Page 20 of Mariposa (Queens Command #1)

KADE

Mariposa Traicionera by Mana

S he’s hammered out of her mind.

She’s out of line, drunk , and attracting every single service member in that beautiful red dress of hers and her annoying yet intoxicating, inebriated giggles. I’m on my fourth glass of whiskey, watching her from the end of the bar, laughing and smiling with Booker.

Each curve of her lips has a flame scorching through my chest while Karen keeps the conversation going. She might as well be talking to a wall. A wall that can’t stand seeing Violet flirt with another man.

I haven’t seen her so…free before, and it’s doing something to me. I’ve never been good at accepting when something feels good. If there’s one thing I fear, it’s happiness. Because it means I have something to lose. I’ve never been able to operate with that hanging over my head since my divorce.

“Kade, want to get out of here?” Karen squeezes my wrist. I hadn’t noticed I was gripping the glass overly tight until I loosened my grip, and a pins and needles sensation rippled through my palm.

Opening and closing my fist, I tilt my head back to the television with the NFL game.

“No, I want to finish the game first.”

In reality, I want to make sure Violet doesn’t do anything stupid like sleep with Booker.

Yes, he’s my friend, but I need to make sure she doesn’t do anything dumb tonight, like drink herself to the point where she’s hanging on the edge of a rooftop, about to fall to her death, or wake up in another man’s bed full of regret.

Booker is respectful, but I don’t like the idea of him crossing any lines with her. I might be a hypocrite for having these thoughts, but his job is on the line, as is mine. I have more to lose if I give in to anything regarding Violet.

What am I thinking? There is and never will be an ‘if.’

She throws her head back at something Booker says.

A genuine smile showcases her perfectly aligned white teeth.

Her throat bobs with each laugh, and her long, thick, black lashes flutter as she tries to catch her breath.

Yet when the joke ends and Booker continues talking to her, she returns to that sullen, distant expression.

The mask she likes to wear and play pretend with.

The humor she likes to force doesn’t fool me.

It may slide with Booker and everyone else, but not me.

She said she thinks I’m broken, and it takes one to know one. Why is she ‘broken’? Why does she only let her guard down when she taints her blood with alcohol?

I didn’t report anything the night I found her drunk because I believe in second chances, and tonight, with how she’s going, it looks like she needs someone to look after her.

I used to overdrink myself until I couldn’t feel my past. I’ve been lost since Penny and Adam left—alcohol and painkillers were my home.

Until a few years ago. Cleaning up my act took me a long time.

I knew if I hadn’t, I’d end up drinking myself to death, and Booker helped me through that dark period of a single soldier who had lost his reason.

“Dammit, Kade,” Karen whines. “Why did you ask me out here? I still don’t have your attention. You haven’t said one word to me about anything tonight. Why am I here?”

I bring the bottle to my lips, taking another swig as I stare at the wide, flat television screen. The game is tied, which means it may go into overtime.

Which also means that it is more of an excuse to babysit Violet.

I should feel bad, mainly because I don’t have an answer for her. I’m trying to repent, and maybe burying myself in Karen tonight will remove the lines I crossed with Violet yesterday. This is the most logical solution. To fuck the next woman’s brains out until I don’t see her anymore.

Karen’s flinty, smoldering blue eyes remain on my face as she waits for an answer.

“Looks like it’s going into overtime.” I tilt my drink toward the screen.

“I don’t like football.” She flicks her beer bottle with her nail, causing it to chime.

“I know we made it a rule not to talk about work while outside of the uniform, but things are getting bad where you’re going.

” Her knee starts to bounce up and down erratically as she watches me intensely.

“The things that roll in for intel…it’s bad right now. ” She trails off with a blank face.

“I know what I signed up for.”

Loud whistles and cheers pull both of our attention to the source. As I roll to the side on the barstool, my chest tightens. Wrath blinds me momentarily. I didn’t know how much more pissed off I could get tonight, but lo and behold, Violet found a new limit for me.

I see fucking red…and it’s not the red dress swaying and lifting into the air as Violet dances drunkenly, almost falling off the high table while men circle her and stare at her inappropriately.

She snakes her hands into her hair, on both sides of her head, flames flickering wildly in her eyes.

They gain more flammability when she catches me looking.

My jaw flares when she gives me a taunting look.

Rolling her eyes, she continues to dance and ignores the scathing glower I’m giving her.

I swear to fuck if she rolls her eyes at me again.

Where the hell is Booker? Where is Slater? They wouldn’t leave her alone like this. Booker likes to fool around, but he wouldn’t abandon Violet like this while she’s clearly drunk. He must be out for a smoke or a piss.

A ringtone blares from Karen’s purse, and I try to control my seething.

“I’m going to step out. I need to take this.” She hops off the stool and strides, long and fast, toward the front of the bar. Before returning my gaze to the young woman who is the center of everyone’s attention, I ensure Karen can’t see what I’m about to fucking do.

I pinball my vision at every corner, still having false hope that Booker and Slater will show up and beat me to it, but as seconds that feel like minutes pass by, they are nowhere to be found.

Damn it.

Damn me for caring about her .

I should let her make mistakes so she can learn from them, but here I am. Sifting through my pocket until I find my wallet, I palm cash to cover mine and Karen’s tab with a tilt of my chin before I stand. The bartender, Isaac, smacks it and drags the money away.

Zipping through the crowd, my shoulders and sides bump into people as I snake my way in until I’m standing in front of her with a heaving chest. I pop my knuckles, trying to gather my thoughts and stay indifferent toward this frustrating woman.

She dances terribly, lost in the music. Swaying and moving with shut eyes as men continue encouraging her with oohs and aahs.

It sickens me. Then, one sloppy dance move has her dress dropping enough to expose her breasts.

A man pulls out his cell in front of me and taps the camera app.

This fucking creep is going to take pictures of someone that doesn’t belong to him, maybe even video her making a fool out of herself.

Sure enough, he attempts to do precisely that.

Aiming the photo camera lens in her direction, he swipes to the video setting, and I crack my knuckles.

Of course, Violet continues to sway her hips dubiously and rocks her head vehemently to the beat of “Father Figure” by George Michael, and her hair blinds her to what’s unfolding in front of her.

I smack the weirdo’s phone out of his hands until it thuds on the ground.

“Hey man, what was that for?” the fucker dares to bare his yellow teeth, and the stench of his liquor breath hits me. He is way too close for my liking.

My fist connects to his chin, sending him into the arms of his friends. They catch him as he tries to regain his stance. It’s a group of four young sailors staring at me with hesitant eyes. One of them studies his injury and flicks his stunned gaze to mine.

“You broke his jaw,” he murmurs in a voice that trembles with fear.

Good .

Straightening my back, my muscles quiver for release. They all look at me and then back at him, disappointed.

One of them picks up his phone and escorts him out.

Whipping around, I find a pissed-off Violet.

Her once-straight hair is now in thick waves, tucked behind her little ears.

She scrunches her nose, the wrinkles around the center creasing.

She always makes that face when she’s irritated.

I’ve learned it too well over the year of being her instructor.

The sight makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and rush her into my truck, away from everyone.

I refrain.

“Did you just punch?—”

“Violet, get the hell down from there,” I growl.

“No!”

“Woman, there are people with their phones out, and your…” I shut my eyes tight, and my jaw flexes to stop myself.

Your damn nipples and tits are out . But I stop myself and try a different approach.

I lean into her side to make sure no one can hear what I’m about to hiss.

“You’re someone’s girlfriend, or did you forget that part?”

She stiffens, her face turning cold, and jerks her head toward me over her shoulder.

She gets down from the table, holding her glass of hard liquor in the air so she doesn’t spill it as her feet touch the ground.

She glares at me and walks into the bathroom hallway.

Her arm brushes against mine, and my skin comes alive at her touch.

I follow right after, not caring if Karen or anyone I know is watching anymore.

I step into the dark space with dim lighting coming from fake palm tree lamps screwed into the wall.

Before she can reach another door, I grab her wrist.

“Where are you going now? Another stage to embarrass yourself on?” My question strikes her harder than I meant. My harshness can use some work, but my God, not tonight.

“It’s none of your business what I do in my free time.”

“It is. Adam told me to look after you, and I’m fucking sure he wouldn’t approve of you giving everyone a show!”

She rears back, jaw dropping.