Wicked as Sin (Wicked & Devoted 1)

She didn’t know Pierce Walker, but one thing she didn’t doubt? He intended to come after her.

“What the devil was that caveman bit about earlier?” Brea turned to Cutter in his big truck with a piqued glare. “You let everyone think I’m your girlfriend.”

He had the good grace to wince. “Mostly Walker. I was protecting you.”

“He was merely talking to me.”

“While he undressed you with his eyes. I told you, he’s no good.”

Brea didn’t understand. Nor did she feel like being the agreeable good girl she’d been her whole life. “He was perfectly pleasant until you confronted him.”

“Bre-bee, you don’t know him. I hate to be crass with you, but the man is only after you for a piece of ass. Besides being a lousy teammate, he’s a douchebag. And I’m using exceptionally nice language for your sake. He takes unnecessary chances on the job, he doesn’t listen to anyone, and he refuses to compromise.”

She slanted him a glance. “You’re no social butterfly yourself, and you’ve always been as stubborn as the day is long.”

“But I would never put myself—or others—in an unnecessarily risky situation because I was arrogant enough to presume I was right.”

“And he did?”

“He does it all the time.” Cutter gripped the wheel like the memories alone chapped his hide.

“Is he usually right?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Isn’t it? You’ve always said people should fight for what they believe in.”

“And they should. But how am I supposed to trust him as a teammate—with my life—when he won’t stick to the plan?” He sighed. “Brea, look…he’s not the marrying kind.”

They’d just met, and she wasn’t expecting a waltz down the aisle…but they had shared something—a moment—and she wasn’t ready to let go yet. “You know that for a fact?”

“Well, I doubt when I saw him at Crawfish and Corsets off Highway Ninety last weekend, coming out of the back room with one of the female bartenders while zipping up his jeans and wearing a smile, that they’d been swapping Bible stories.”

Brea swallowed down absurd jealousy she had no right to feel. “Cutter Edward Bryant, maybe you shouldn’t be casting stones. You haven’t been chaste your whole life, either.”

He squirmed in his seat. “But I have relationships. I usually date women for a while before we take that step. I don’t just nail random females in the back of a bar at one in the morning.”

“No?” She raised a brow. “What were you doing there, then?”

“The whole team had gathered to play pool. Zy beat the hell—I mean, the heck—out of almost everyone. Since Walker isn’t a team player, he decided to use his ‘stick’ for other activities.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t met the right woman yet.”

“Are you thinking that’s you?”

Cutter’s tone made her sound incredibly naive, and it pricked her temper. She crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. “How do you know I’m not?”

He sighed, looking as if he mentally groped for his patience. “Bre-bee, I love you. No matter what our blood says, you’re my sister and I will protect you with my dying breath. If you want me to die early or go to prison for murder, you go ahead and take up with that man. Do you know he’s a killer?”

“What do you mean? You killed people in Afghanistan.”

“Combatants who wanted to end me simply because I was American. I wish I hadn’t been put in that position, and I didn’t relish a single one of their deaths. I’ll even admit I haven’t been without sin or blame since I went to work for EM. The job can force you to make snap judgments about whether or not the enemy feet away from you will really pull the trigger so you should pull yours first. I never do it without due consideration. But Walker? His sole job responsibility is to kill.”

That couldn’t be right. “What do you mean?”

Cutter nodded. “He’s a well-trained military assassin who wants everyone to call him One-Mile because that’s his way of bragging about his longest kill shot.”

The news hit her like a punch to the chest. Yes, Pierce Walker had reeked of danger, but Cutter made him sound like a cold-blooded murderer. “His actions are not for us to judge. That’s between him and God.”

“But you need to know the truth. When Walker is given a mark, he doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t feel compunction or remorse. He doesn’t care about the blood on his hands, and if he touched you with them”—Cutter gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles went white—“if he defiled you, I would have to kill him.”

“I’ve never known you to dislike someone so intensely.”

“That should tell you something.” He stopped at a light and turned to pin her with a stare. “Promise me you won’t ever tell him we’re not a couple. That would be like waving a red cape in a bull’s face. Promise me that when he comes sniffing around—and he will—that you’ll have nothing to do with him.”