Hot SEALs: SEAL's Ultimate Challenge Read Online Free PDF Page B

pain in his chest pressing hard against his heart. But he’d started it. “Orphaned at fourteen, in foster care until I finished high school.” He fought the clenching of his jaw to finish. “Joined the navy, became a SEAL, stepped on a trip wire, kicked out of the service, the end.” He turned to her. “Your turn.”
    She bit her lip, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. For a long time she maneuvered through traffic without speaking.
    About the time Reaper thought she wouldn’t respond, he heard her speak. “Large family of cops, majored in criminology in college, worked for D.C. police department, got shot, and like you, medically retired. Retrained and now I’m a physical therapist.”
    He stared, trying to imagine her in uniform. “They let you be a police officer?”
    “Let?” Her brows dipped. “I was a damned good one.”
    Reaper discovered he liked the way Leigha’s blue eyes sparkled when she was angry. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. For the first time in a long time, he relaxed. “A cop, huh?” He shook his head. “Can’t see it.” In his mind, at best, she was a meter maid, writing tickets to people who parked in the wrong place.
    She didn’t rise to his bait, but her lips thinned.
    “Ever shoot someone?” he asked. He’d done his share. As a team sniper, he’d shot a lot of people, many of which he’d never even seen their faces.
    Again, she didn’t respond for a long time. Finally, she said, “I did.”
    All joking aside, he could sense telling him that bit of information had taken a lot, indicating it had been a traumatic experience. “What happened?”
    “The perp shot a man then shot me. Then he and his brother doubled back to finish the job, and I shot him.”
    “Was he the only one?”
    “After four years on the force, in one of the most crime-ridden cities in the country, my first and last was that man.”
    “And the brother?”
    “Locked up.”
    “For how long?”
    She shrugged. At the sentencing, LeVon’s brother Jamal Clayton glared her way as the judge sentenced him. “Ten years. He was eighteen. They went easy on him since he didn’t pull the trigger.”
    Reaper wasn’t as familiar with the D.C. legal system or the prisons on the east coast. But he was familiar with the gang warfare in L.A. Avenging a brother’s death was expected. “How many years ago was that?”
    “Two and a half.”
    “When is he eligible for parole?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “You shot his brother. Aren’t you afraid he’ll get out and come after you?”
    Leigha waved a hand. “He was just a kid. I’m not on the force anymore.”
    “A thug who’s been in the system, around men who have done worse crimes, comes out even harder than he went in.”
    “I have my conceal carry license.” Her brothers had insisted she get one. She hadn’t argued. A woman couldn’t be too careful.
    “Check on his parole.”
    “All right, already. I’ll check. In the meantime, we’re here.” She pulled into a parking lot.
    Reaper had been so caught up in the discussion about her shooting he hadn’t paid much attention to where they were. When he glanced up at the huge sign hanging across the front of a huge steel building, he felt a lead weight settle in the pit of his belly.
    Mid-Atlantic Indoor Range.
    “What the fuck?” Reaper shook his head. “Take me back. You have to be out of your fucking mind.”
    Leigha pulled the keys from the ignition, got out, rounded to his side, and opened his door.
    He refused to get out.
    She leaned in. “You were a sniper, right?”
    The cotton candy scent of her perfume wrapped around him. “ Was is the operative word. That part of my life is gone.” He waved his stump. “Gone with my right arm and hand.”
    “Look, big guy, you have another hand, another arm. In case you didn’t notice, some of the other wounded warriors have neither and would give anything to have what you have.” She pointed to