Blind Fury by Gwen Hernandez

ally, but she still wanted answers. There had to be another way to find out what she wanted to know, because with or without his help, she was going to get the truth.

CHAPTER SIX

    M ICK ROSE FROM HIS bed after forty minutes of reliving the day of Rob’s death. Enough , he fumed, pacing his bedroom floor, vaguely aware of cars passing by on the parkway eight floors below. Goddammit, why couldn’t Jenna just leave this alone?
    He marched to the bathroom door and turned back again. Okay, he could understand her desire to know. In her shoes, he’d feel the same way. But there was too much at stake. Whoever had targeted him and Jenna—whether the brass at Claymore, or just some rogue team members—wasn’t fooling around.
    Why hadn’t Rob told him what was going on? He’d noticed a change in his friend during their last few weeks in Afghanistan, but he’d figured it was because Rob had decided to go home. Why hadn’t Mick asked more questions? Would it have changed anything?
    God, he hated this whole mess. How he could be so amped up after having run eight miles that morning, he had no idea, but Jenna pushed all of his buttons.
    Didn’t she understand that the truth could put her in danger?
    Somehow, he needed to distract her while he figured things out. Could he give her just enough of the truth for her to believe it was everything? He’d have to think about that. Maybe there was a way. In the meantime, he needed to mend things between them.
    He opened the door, ready to apologize and placate. Instead, the words stuck in his throat. He processed the scene in one glance. Jenna was leaning over a shopping bag, dressed only in tan bra and bikini underwear. She probably considered the color sensible and boring.
    But goddamn , sensible or not, the look was far from boring. She was flawless. Narrow waist, long runner’s legs, and miles of creamy skin. He finally understood the meaning of lithe .
    All of his anger, apologies, and promises twisted into one primal thought: I want her.
    With more restraint than he knew he possessed, he turned his back on her and cleared his throat. Staring at the door didn’t do a damn thing to erase the image of her from his mind.
    “Mick!” she yelped from across the room.
    “I didn’t expect you to be changing out here. Sorry.” Liar. He wasn’t even a little bit sorry.
    The sound of frantic rummaging reached his ears and he imagined her hastily covering up that gorgeous body with the oversized, striped pajamas she’d bought at the mall.
    “Okay,” she said. “Did you need something?”
    He walked casually into the kitchen, avoiding her eye. “A drink. And I figured you might need to use the bathroom.” He snuck a peek at her. Yep. Baggy jammies. Pity .
    She eyed him cautiously, arms crossed over her chest, probably wondering why he was being so nice. “Yeah. I was about to use my finger as a tooth brush,” she said, but didn’t move. “Look, I’m sorry a—”
    “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I overreacted.” Hope blossomed in her pretty eyes, and he had to quash it quick before she got the wrong idea. “And no, I still can’t give you details, but I understand your need to know, I really do.”
    She raised one eyebrow and tilted her head. He felt like he was back at home trying to do the two-step around his mom’s knowing stare. The one she’d pulled out whenever he did something wrong and tried to cover it up.
    “Just know that Rob died with his honor intact, okay? I respected him more than anyone I’ve ever known, and nothing has changed that.”
    Her head dipped into the barest hint of a nod, and then she wordlessly grabbed her cosmetics bag and made a beeline for the bathroom. She stopped in the bedroom doorway, her hand gripping the jamb. “Thanks.”
    He held her gaze for several heartbeats, mentally cursing his team for getting into that firefight, the bastard who fired the fatal rounds into Rob’s chest, Rob for his heroics, and himself for not