Page 66 of Specter Bred

Her eyebrows knitted together.

“What are you talking about?”

I couldn’t believe she didn’t see it. Graves watched her constantly, always seeming to know exactly where she was. He’d crossed half the training field the second Redwood put his hands on her, and every time she got too close to me, his stare turned sharp enough to cut, as if he would kill any man who dared to lay a hand on her.

Me, specifically.

And somehow, she still thought he hated her.

“If you can’t see how much has changed, you’re blind, Firecracker!”

Confusion flashed across her face before sharpening into frustration. Her mouth opened, and I could already see the argument forming, but for once, I didn’t stick around to hear it.

Because her refusal to acknowledge the true dynamic between her and Major Nolan Graves was really starting to piss me off.

Maeve could read a room faster than anyone I knew. She noticed every potential threat, every subtle shift in someone’s posture, and every pair of eyes that lingered a second too long. The woman could probably identify an ambush from a suspiciously placed shrub.

Yet somehow, she couldn’t see Graves watching her like she was the only person on the damn field. She missed the way his fist tightened whenever I got too close, and the murderous silence that followed whenever I touched her.

And, apparently, she couldn’t see me either.

For the first time since I’d met her, I was the one who turned and walked away, leaving Maeve standing there alone.

I told myself my foul mood was entirely justified because Firecracker was being exceptionally dense, and watching an otherwise brilliant woman fail to grasp the painfully obvious was irritating.

That explanation lasted about five steps.

By the sixth, I had to admit I was jealous.

By the seventh, I was forced to acknowledge the considerably more embarrassing fact that my feelings were a little hurt.

Apparently, the woman who could dismantle a weapon blindfolded, survive anything Specter Training thew at her, and spot a threat from fifty yards away, couldn’t recognize that two men were practically waving giant signs that said WE WANT YOU.

Well, Graves’s sign probably just said MINE in angry block letters.

My sign would have been considerably more gentlemanly.

But the point stood.

At this rate, one of us was going to have to spell it out for her, and judging by Grizzly’s communication skills, apparently that poor bastard was going to be me.

Chapter 9: Nolan "Grizzly" Graves

"You're fucking kidding me," Cutter said with a laugh.

"I am not," I said, taking a sip of my beer.

"Well, at least we know the kid's not a pussy," Alvarez said. "Though, he might have a death wish. Somehow standing up to Grizzly like that actually moves him higher in my recruit rankings instead of lower.

"Mine too. What about Archer?" Cutter asked with a smirk.

"What about her?" Alvarez said, leaning back in his chair.

"You buying Grizzly's fraternization theory? Think she’s using the beta roommate as her personal boy toy?"

A bark of laughter escaped Alvarez.

“Not a chance. As much as I’m sure Hayes would enjoy the opportunity, Archer would fucking eat that pup alive.”