Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

He grunted, shaking his head. Crossing his arms, a hint of a smile emerged. “I wasn’t ordered. I volunteered. Now I’m unvolunteering.”

“That’s not even a word.”

He produced a full-on smirk. “Sure it is. We’re in my world now and I’m sure I have lots of words you’re not old enough to understand.”

Asshole. But I bit my tongue because if the magazine fired me, my United States visa ended and I’d have to return to Colombia. “Why don’t you like me?”

His smirk fell away. “Listen, it’s not that I don’t like you. I don’t know you well enough to judge whether I like you or not. But this isn’t the place for you. I’d expected to escort two experienced men who knew what the fuck they’re getting into.”

I hated to admit that he had a point. I probably shouldn’t be here, but the reality was home wasn’t safe either.

I lifted my chin. “Yeah, I’m young and inexperienced, but I know the risk. And it’s my decision whether to take it or not. Your duty is to drive me there.”

That was when my belly flipped and my breath caught in my throat because he stepped closer, the heat off his body seeping into me.

“Oh, I know my duty, ma’am.” He lowered his voice and I guessed it was because a couple guys walked past and eyed us. “It’s not happening. Get over it.”

I grit my teeth then took a deep calming breath. “Jaz already spoke with your commander when we arrived on base. He’s met me and he doesn’t have a problem. And your PR department approved this.” I rarely lost my cool and was always polite, but I was exhausted and he’d pissed me off. “So you’re the one who will have to ‘get over it’.”

He swore beneath his breath and he definitely looked pissed with his lowered brows and narrowed eyes.

He was quiet a minute then he shrugged and said, “Okay, ma’am.”

Huh? That was it? ‘Okay, ma’am.’ Umm, what just happened?

He didn’t wait to see if I followed him as he strode across the yard where they’d been playing football. He stopped briefly to snag his shirt off the back of a folding chair and tugged it over his head.

He must have noticed I wasn’t behind him because he looked back at me and scowled. “You waiting for hand-holding because that’s not going to happen.”

I looked around for Jaz, but he was nowhere in sight. Shit. I slowly walked toward him. “Where’s Jaz?”

“Probably in the mess grabbing chow. We’ll do the same, then I’ll show you where you can crash for the night.”

“Hey, O’Neill.” I glanced to the right and saw two guys dressed in full gear. “What’s with the ice cream? You going to lick that?”

Ice cream? Lick that? My mouth gaped, but O’Neill either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he walked across the yard. His strides ate up the ground and I was forced to jog to keep up with him.

The other guy yelled, “What’s her flavor?”

“C and C,” O’Neill replied without turning.

C and C? Her flavor? What was he talking about?

“No shit!” the guy shouted.

I kept up with O’Neill as he led the way to what he referred to as the mess. By the time we stopped outside a tent, I was resigned to the fact that I found O’Neill attractive. Way attractive.

I knew that the second my eyes landed on him. Any girl, whether she liked men or not, would appreciate a man like O’Neill. Tall with a lean, toned body that he obviously looked after. His brilliant blue eyes made me want to drown in them and his manly scent soaked into every cell and caused them to swell with heat. But it was his grin that ensnared me, and it bothered me that I wanted to see it again.

From the way things were going, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. “What’s C and C mean?” I knew there was a lot of military jargon and Jaz, who’d been reporting for twenty years or more with the magazine, had filled me in on some, but C and C hadn’t been one of them.

He turned to me and there was that twinkle in his eyes just before a slow-forming grin emerged. “Cookies and cream.”

“Cookies and cream?” I pursed my lips together wondering what that meant until I pieced it with the licking comment and realized that he was referring to me as a flavor of ice cream. “Oh, my God. I’m ice cream.”

“It’s a compliment.”

His grin was still there and I was pissed that I found him so damn attractive and at the same time so damn irritating. “You’re comparing me to a flavor of ice cream? How is that a compliment?”

He chuckled. The sound was raspy and deep and to my further irritation, goose bumps popped and my belly leapt off a cliff. “It’s a great flavor. One of my favorites, actually. I’m a huge ice-cream fan, tried every flavor there is. Used to take my sister to the parlor down the street all the time. She never had anything but vanilla.” He lifted the tent flap and said, “After you, Alina…” He paused, brows lifting as he waited for me to fill him in on my last name.