My finger twitched on the trigger. My jaw tightened. In my ear, my commander instructed me to take the shot. I had a clear line of vision; my weapon was accurate. Take the shot. If I squeezed the trigger, a .338 caliber bullet would rip through several hundred yards of air and thrust into her, devastating every tissue fiber in its wake as it carved a deadly path through her body.
Slowly, everything came into focus and started to make sense.
How she had pursued me.
Encouraged me.
Used my loneliness against me.
How she had come to my room at night and warmed my body with hers.
Take the shot.
All this time she had been lying.
Working against me.
Using me.
Take the shot.
The reason she wanted to meet my friends?
She wanted to kill them.
And me.
Take the shot.
Bitterness tore through me.
My finger grazed the trigger.
Take the shot.
As I squeezed, an almighty eruption lifted me up from the ground and cartwheeled me across the room of the abandoned building. I heard the startled shouts of my unit as the explosion ripped apart our surroundings, turning our world inside out and upside down. I hit the floor, my face smashing against something hard and rough. Heat and fire flashed across the room, searing the uniform on my body and sending a sharp burning pain deep into my skin.
Confusion smothered my brain, suffocating me, disorientating me.
Who was I? Where was I?
And then it slowly came back to me.
I was a sniper in a land far, far away.
And I had taken the shot.
CHANCE
Eighteen months later
I stood beneath the shower stream and let the warm needles of water pound into my flesh. My temples throbbed with pain, but that was nothing new. I’d seen the bottom of more than my share of bourbon bottles, and last night had been no different.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I groaned as the heat of the shower engulfed me, relaxing my muscles and relieving the tension in my brain.
When I’d come home from several months in a military hospital, my family and the club had closed ranks around me. They were worried about the broken soldier with violent scars. To get me out of my shell and back to the old Chance, they’d put me right in the middle of MC life: the clubhouse, parties, drinking. Women.
But I felt none of it.
Wanted none of it.
Ok, maybe the drinking.
But not the parties.
And definitely not the women.
Even if it was just for one night.
I lived at my mom’s when I first got home, but Mom’s relationship with Ari had become serious while I was overseas; he lived with her now. They were really into one another, and even though it was my home and I felt welcomed, it was hard not to feel like a third wheel—especially when you came down the stairs to find your mother and her boyfriend in a passionate embrace. Or worse… when their muffled moans drifted through the thin walls when you were trying to sleep after another nightmare.
I just didn’t need that shit.
So, last night I packed up my duffel bag and moved back into the clubhouse.
I knew it was a mistake the moment I walked in and saw the party in full swing.
They got me hammered.
So hammered I could barely see straight.
So hammered I wasn’t even aware of the girl in my bed until I felt her fingers slide across my naked chest and her arms wrap around me. In my drunken haze, my heart ached with longing because I hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in a long, long time. Not since her. And every physical part of me longed for the comfort and peace and the softness of a woman’s caress.
But my mind was in a state of decay. It fought my heart. Ferociously. It didn’t want her. Didn’t want the warmth of her arms around me. I didn’t deserve it. Not after what I’d done.
So I had untangled her from my body, rolled over and drifted into a disturbed, restless sleep.
She was still in my bed when I woke up this morning with a raging hard-on and a desperate need to jerk off.
Not in the mood for small talk, I escaped quietly to the bathroom and now found peace beneath the stream of hot water, my eyes closed, my cock still hard. I moaned and closed my eyes, feeling my muscles relax and the tension leave my body.
I was about to take care of the throbbing erection between my legs when the shower door opened and last night’s girl stepped in, butt naked and beautiful. Before I could stop her, she rose to her tiptoes and kissed me. It was tender and soft, and somewhere inside me a tiny heartbeat of longing began to beat. She was offering her body to me, offering her kiss and the kindness of her arms around me.