American Made (Against the Tides #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

cracks.
    “I’m a sniper.” She pauses, setting down what little is left of her food down. Staring out the window, she sighs. “Was. I was a sniper. I don’t know what I am anymore.”
    “Respect,” I whisper. She’s changing every thought I had about her when I first saw her and she doesn’t even realize it.
    Emerson’s head snaps toward me. “I’m not proud of the things I did, but I was good at it so I did it. I don’t like killin’ people. Don’t respect me, you don’t even know me.”
    Oh shit, I’ve pissed her off by respecting her. I should have known it was going too well.
    I take a second to think before I speak again because I don’t want to piss her off any more. “If you aren’t proud of what you were doin’, why did you do it?”
    “Because,” she shouts. Taking a deep breath, she calms herself down before saying anything else. “Because I didn’t shoot to kill. I shot to protect people. I killed people that were killing our soldiers or murdering the people that were just tryin’ to live their lives in those towns. I took them out on command like it was nothing so they couldn’t keep hurtin’ people. Now I can’t even do that. What the hell do I do now that I can’t?”
    I ignore her last question because it doesn’t seem like something she actually wants an answer for. I think it’s something she’s trying to figure out on her own so I choose to focus on everything else. I shove the question to the back of my mind for later though because I have an idea.
    “I wasn’t sayin’ that I respected you for killin’ people, Emerson. I respect you for savin’ them. I respect you for puttin’ your life on the line for this country. Even just meetin’ you a few hours ago I can tell that you wouldn’t hurt someone for the hell of it. If I thought for even a second that you would, I’d kick your ass out of my truck and tell you to walk home. My job is about savin’ people so I don’t hang out with people that wanna hurt them.”
    “Oh,” she whispers, hanging her head in shame. Her hair falls into her face so I reach over to move it out of my way so I can see her.
    “What you said, that thing about not shootin’ to kill, but shootin’ to protect people? That right there is why I respect you.”
    Emerson rolls her head toward me as the song on the radio switches. Her eyes start to slide closed as she begins to fall asleep in the front seat of my truck. “I got shot,” she mumbles.
    “What?” I ask, thinking I heard her wrong.
    “You asked what happened to me. We got ambushed. I got shot.” She yawns, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. “And Taylor Swift is right. Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes.”
    I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. This sexy as hell grown woman just quoted Taylor Swift in my truck after yelling at me and I’m not tossing her ass to the curb. Something must be wrong with me tonight. Maybe it’s because I feel sorry for her because she got shot and obviously it did enough damage to get her sent home. Or maybe it’s because part of me wants to see more of her, to know more about her. I’m hoping the Swift reference was a drunk slip but at this point I don’t think I’d care even if it wasn’t.
     



EMERSON
    My head throbs before I even open my eyes and I instantly regret everything I did last night. The things I can remember anyway. Four rounds of shots that were meant to be split between four people ended up in my stomach along with beer and that was all before I went outside. After standing in the rain things get a little hazy. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes as I sit up and almost cry. The pain in my arm is so intense it makes me want to throw up.
    I’m still fully clothed but in my bed and have no clue how I got here. The only thing I can think of is Knox must have brought me home. Aspirin and a bottle of water sit on my bedside table next to a bottle of pain medication. As fast as I can, I swallow the pills and