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“I have my motorcycle on the grounds but it seems nicer to walk if you’re up for it,” he said.
She envisioned him with solid steel between his thighs, shirtless, his tattoos standing out in the sunlight. Shaking herself from the daydream, she nodded. “Walking is good.”
Walker’s wasn’t far, and the evening wasn’t too hot. She welcomed the sun on her face and bare arms.
“You look beautiful,” he said in his deep tone.
She swallowed thickly. “Thank you. I’m glad you asked me to come.”
“See? A woman like you doesn’t always know what’s good for her.”
That made her bristle. “And you do?” She should be annoyed at how high-handed he sounded, but his words intrigued her. Sometimes she did overwork herself and forget her basic needs. Like human interaction and fresh air.
“You’re having a good time, right?” he asked with a waggle of his brows that made her laugh.
“Yes, this is nice.”
They passed people on the sidewalk, but Ford didn’t speak to any of them or acknowledge them.
“How long have you been on base?” she asked.
“A year. They’re talking about deploying my platoon again.”
Her heart sank a little. “Really? When and where?”
“Afghanistan again. Two hundred paratroopers, by the sounds of it.”
“Should you be telling me this? Is it confidential information?”
He skimmed his fingers over her hand where it was tucked into the crook of his arm. “I’m cleared to share that much. But I might be gone by the end of the month.”
“I’d hate to see you go.” Some soldiers never returned, and that scared her.
He looked down at her, a crease between his brows. “I’d write to you. And call.”
“Yes, you could,” she said at once. The morale of the troops was as important to their well-being as what she did in the triage unit.
He smiled. “Good. Ah, here we are. The renowned bar, Walker’s.” They stopped on the sidewalk to look at the building. It was long and flat-roofed with a black front door and very few windows. She remembered it being dark inside.
“Should we go in?” Ford asked.
“Yes. I’m ready for a drink. It’s hotter out than I thought.”
He opened the door for her to pass through first. A growl sounded from her right, and before her eyes had even adjusted to the dimness of the interior, Ford was lying on the floor, bleeding from a blow to the mouth, and Lincoln stood over him, chest heaving and fists clenched.
∞∞∞
Lincoln was going to end up in deep shit for this, but he didn’t care. Fucking Ford was with Allison?HisAllison?
His heart thundered in his veins, and his throat was tight with the need to roar. Ford lay bleeding, and Lincoln’s knuckles stung from cutting them on the man’s teeth. They were always trained not to go for the face when in a fight—the face was bony and you had a bigger chance of breaking your hand.
Fuck that.
He shook his fingers and made another fist a second before Ford popped to his feet and swung at him.
Allison screamed. The crowd parted to let them at each other, but the bar owner, Liberty, pounded on the bar top with police baton she used to keep her patrons in check. “Break it up, dammit! You two knuckleheads know the fucking rules. No fighting in my bar!”
Ford lowered his head and charged Lincoln. They flew backward in a tangle of locked limbs and fury.
