In His Command (Don't Tell) by Warren Rie

Author:Warren, Rie [Warren, Rie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781455574148
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2013-08-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Blondie, fuck!” I bent over him, bullets ricocheting past my head at a rapid pace.

“Get off.” He slithered from under me, hand cupped to his formerly scar-free cheek. Great. Add another wound to my tally, this one mirroring my elbow blow the last time this kind of shit went down. Blood dripped between his fingers, red conduits increasing my rage.

He hissed, “Close your goddamn mouth and get the hell outta here.”

Easier said than done. I’d gone with his plan, and his plan had us surrounded by Corps. We were caught with our pants down, our emotions bared to the subunit.

Blondie’s eyes crackled as he listened to the first round of gay-hate chorusing from the troops, mocking our intimate kiss. I heard them with a hard head, deciding on a new strategy to up the ante. What better way to pump their beef than to serve myself up? A Corps commander proud of his homosexuality. Hell, I had half a mind to kiss Blondie again.

My plan changed in an instant.

Inside the ring of fire, we scrambled toward the trench we’d left, rolling into the dug-out ditch and up the other side. They had their night visors down, their vision crystal clear, but their aim was piss poor. Liz would’ve sheared my neck clean through from that distance. In spite of their victory over the Freelanders, the bulk of these soldiers seemed to be ninety-day wonders, not precision-trained operators. The Corps casualties in the Territories must’ve run deep.

I kept one eye on Blondie, the other across the fireworks, maintaining the brick fucking wall of my body between the wet-behind-the-ears battalion and him. They funneled into the hellish pit while I strode forward, providing the biggest, baddest target.

Blondie’s voice was a distant plea. “What the hell are you doing?’”

I was already handling the SIGS strapped across my chest, drawing more heat from the troops as well as taunts.

“Hands off the weapons, faggot.”

I stopped short of raising my twin buddies. “You might wanna rethink how you address me, soldier.”

With my face clear of shadows, I looked every bit the Alpha Elite tactical commander. I was a big badass motherfucker, and I’d been cameoed on the D-P enough so my status and face were known InterNations wide.

Whispers sizzled, shouts formed, my name clear amid a flurry of gay-bashing insults. Oh yeah, they recognize me.

Silencing his men, the soldier with the medals addressed me. “Commander Cannon. Stand down.”

“Suck my cock, Lieutenant.” I spread my arms and beckoned with my fingers, detailing the distance between the homemade minefield and me, figuring I was right on the edge.

Fingers scrabbled around my ankle. I kicked back, hoping I didn’t hit Blondie’s face this time. My lips didn’t move as I said, “You got a job; do it.”

Unsure of procedure, the troops shifted their aim to the movement behind me. Big mistake. I pulled a Liz move, grabbing my crotch. “Like what you saw, boys?”

Immediately, I was covered in twelve red dots, concentrated on my breastbone and my brain. Better.

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