CHAPTER 2
KURT STEELE BREATHED out and pressed the trigger, running through the steps of marksmanship on autopilot. Five shots, five holes in the paper target, center mass.
Six.Dead on. Seven.
Pain gripped his lower leg—well, where his lower leg used to be—and his shot went wild.
Next to him, Dan Molina lowered his weapon and gave Kurt a “what the hell was that?” smirk.Then his smile dropped and he tapped his earmuffs before removing them.
Kurt lifted the protection from one ear, forcing himself to stand tall as he took deep breaths through his nose.
“You okay, man?”
“Fine.” Sometimes his friends read him too well. “Just lost focus.”
“Bullshit. You could take that shot in your sleep.”
“It’s nothing. Sometimes I still get…twinges.” Phantom pain, twinges,whatever.
“Twinges.” Dan’s voice was laced with skepticism, maybe concern.
Kurt let the earmuff drop, dismissing his friend, who also worked for him at Steele Security. There were advantages to being the boss.
Talking wasn’t going to help anything, and the pain was already diminishing. After six years, he knew how to work through it, and the inexplicable sensations didn’t last as long or comeas frequently as they had early on.
He raised his weapon and fired. Eight. Center mass.That’s more like it.
The range was quiet midmorning on a Tuesday. He and Dan and the owner were the only people around.
They ran through their ammo and pulled in their final targets. Kurt had to get back to the office for an eleven o’clock meeting, and it would be at least a twenty-minute drive to Arlington.
“Nice grouping,” a woman said from behind him.
He holstered his Beretta and faced her. “Detective Breschi. I’m sure yours would look similar.”
“Thanks, but I wish you’d call me Eva.” He might be out of practice when it came to dating, but even he couldn’t miss the way she leaned in and maintained eye contact, or the hint of a suggestive smile on her wide lips.
“I know.” But he wouldn’t.
Hersmile slipped and she turned away, showing off her tight ass in form-fitting black slacks. “Dan, good to see you.” She chose a spot further down the range, leaving behind a faint cloud of perfume.
As soon as they were paid up and outside in the cool October air, Dan attacked. “Dude, the pretty detectivesowants you. Why don’t you at least take her out for dinner? See how it goes.”
Kurt shookhis head and put on his sunglasses. “She doesn’t want me. She wants to prove to herself she’s a patriot by fucking a wounded warrior.”
Dan glanced back at the building, his expression skeptical. “What makes you say that?”
“Experience.”
“Shit. Sorry.” Dan took a few steps in silence. “But still. Is that necessarily a bad thing?”
“I have no desire to be her charity case.” God save him from well-meaningfriends who were happily married now.
“But if it gets you laid…” Dan leaned against the minivan he and Alyssa had bought after Sophie was born last July. “Let’s say patriotism or some sense of, I don’t know,altruismis her motivation. How is it any different from hooking up with a spec ops groupie?”
Sometimes friends and their long memories were a pain in the ass. “Because I’m not twenty-fouranymore. And I had legs back then. Those women worshipped our strength. They thought of us as heroes, and they wanted some of that to rub off on them.” Or against them, anyway.
Dan rubbed his dark stubble. “I’m pretty sure Eva thinks you’re a hero.”
