Page 22 of Mariposa (Queens Command #1)

VIOLET

W hat is wrong with Master Sergeant? So what if I want to get drunk and dance the night away? He is not in charge of me anymore. I can do whatever I want. I’m single, and he made it clear that whatever happened in the showers ended there.

Is he jealous?

The woman beside me stands still, swiping her lipstick over her plump lips.

Keeping my eyes forward, I scrub my hands faster with soap as her stare makes me more uncomfortable.

She whips around the sink and clicks her tongue.

She slides her hip closer to mine, sliding it against the white counter.

Closing her lipstick, the sound of her clearing her throat grabs my attention.

“Kade O’Connell was my instructor; he failed me. I made it through the course on my second try with a different set of instructors.”

I glance over to her and quirk a hesitant brow.

“You’re special forces, too?” I ask, turning the knob.

“Yup,” she pops the p. “Kade.” She breathes his name slowly.

“Single dad. Divorced. Walls up higher than the sky. Hot .” She sighs and fidgets on her heels.

She looks up at the ceiling, her pale cheeks flush a deep red.

“Grumpy as fuck too. I tried to shoot my shot with him three years ago, but the man doesn’t date. Only work, work, work.”

Blinking fast, I dry my hands with the brown napkins tucked into a metal dispenser against the wall as muffled “Mariposa Traicionera” by Mana vibrates against the grey stone walls. Shaking my head as I throw the napkins into the trash, I cross my arms against my chest.

“Oh, uh, I don’t talk to or know him like that,” I reply, trying to hide the confusing feelings in my shaky tone.

“Girl, please. Secrets are safe with me. You don’t have to hide that you think he’s handsome.” She stands straight, unzipping her small Gucci purse, and throws her lipstick in. “I saw you guys arguing in the hallway. Don’t worry, I didn’t hear anything, but I wish I had.”

Apparently, I’ve lost the ability to talk because my mouth moves, but no words come out.

“I’m Anna Castle.” She reaches for my hand with hers.

She seems harmless. Blunt for sure, but she carries a friendly aura around her tall and strong frame. Grabbing her hand, I shake it up and down gently.

“Violet Isla.”

After using the restroom and fixing my dress, I wanted to find Kade and argue with him some more for trying to tell me how to spend my free time and punching a guy for looking at me.

“ Fine. I don’t like this. I don’t like it all. ”

His words echo into my psyche the entire time I search in every corner of the bar, and every second I can’t find him only fuels the way he gets under my skin more. Eventually, I gave up when Booker escorted me back to the bartender and ordered me water for the rest of the night.

He went on to explain why he joined Special Forces and asked me for my reason, but I didn’t feel like opening up about my father’s death.

I appreciated that he picked up on those emotions and instead kept the conversation on him.

He said he wanted to serve his country and joined alongside Kade when he was fresh out of high school.

The entire time Booker opens up to me, I keep looking over his shoulder, hoping to find Kade, but he’s nowhere. Did he leave with that beautiful woman? The thought alone pierces me in places I don’t like.

“Hey, where did Master Sergeant go? He’s missing the game.”

I try to act like I don’t care, and I hope it’s convincing.

Why do I care? Why do I want to know what Kade is like outside of the uniform?

He’s not my boyfriend’s dad, nor my instructor anymore.

Tonight will be the last time we’re together, and I should be celebrating, but I’m not.

I’m getting away from the biggest asshole I hate—the one who made my life hell for twelve long torturous months, and he still thinks he can order me around.

I should be happy he’s going back to his team.

I should be .

“I don’t think he cares to watch his team lose. He went to the beach. Probably to smoke.”

So, he’s a fan of the Dallas Cowboys.

“Why is he such an ass?” I blurt drunkenly. A small burp hiccups out of me. There are three minutes left on the clock. His team could still win, and he won’t be here to see it.

My bouncing knee stops when I realize I said it out loud.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Booker’s lips curve into an unbothered smile as he picks apart a peanut shell from the basket between us.

“I’ve known him since we were teenagers.

We’re not friends; we’re brothers, and I can tell you he may come off as a dick sometimes, but he has a heart of gold.

If you need him, he’s there. You got a secret?

He’ll take it to his grave. He’s saved my life countless times overseas, and I’ve saved his.

Sometimes, some people thrive on being alone.

Sometimes , the person you think is a monster is actually the one you want on your side. ”

I chew the inside of my lip. “He doesn’t smile.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

“Are we talking about Kade? He’s such a dick.” The same woman on Kade’s shoulder cuts in, dragging the bar stool with her. She sits beside me, drumming her nails across the counter.

Wait, he didn’t leave with her?

My pulse rockets.

“Well, hello, Karen,” Booker says, avoiding eye contact.

“He’s not so bad,” I blurt. I don’t know why, but I become defensive. “The other night, I was attacked in the showers, and he took care of the situation immediately.”

Karen’s blue eyes darken. She stares at me aggressively before the bartender saunters over to her and takes her order.

A man comes over to Booker and slaps his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Chaos. How have you been? I haven’t seen you here in a minute.”

It’s Max—the man with a prosthetic who thanked Kade for saving his life. He’s wearing an all-white shirt and dark blue jeans with a beer in the other hand. Booker gives me his back as they talk about their tour together in Latvia.

It’s clear to me that Max and Booker have a lot of catching up to do. The euphoric feeling of being inebriated has vanished, and the urge to apologize to Kade for acting recklessly takes hold of me.

Before I know it, I’m out of The Drunken Shell and crossing the street to the beach access right in front of the bar. At first, he’s nowhere to be found. So I keep walking toward the bridge over the water.

He’s there, his broad, muscular back facing me, smoking in the dark, watching the waves underneath the bridge between two tall wooden pillars.

It’s a full moon, and it shines against him perfectly.

The back of his hair is perfectly slicked back, with strands falling over his face.

Curiosity knots and claws inside me. I should go back inside the bar before Booker wonders if I ditched him, but I need to apologize before we both go our separate ways.

Yes, we’re assigned to the same duty station, but that doesn’t guarantee we’ll see each other again.

As I get closer, the detailed, mysterious tattoo of snakes and skulls on his triceps confirms that it’s Kade O’Connell.

“Master Sergeant?” I’m a few feet away from him now, but he doesn't move or acknowledge me. I know he’s able to hear me.

Graduation is done. Is he really going to continue this attitude with me?

“Master Sergeant?” I raise my voice higher so he can hear me better over the crashing waves. I can taste the salt water on the tip of my tongue each time the wind hits me. Electricity sparks and buzzes wildly the closer I get to him.

He keeps his eyes forward on the obsidian ocean, with his hands busy on something that’s not a cigarette anymore.

Then I hear him.

He’s counting.

Why is he counting?

“Beast?”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five…” he continues, his voice shaking with unease. He pulls out a knife, twirling the sharp blade between his fingers. He’s flipping it over and over again as he continues counting, restarting his countdown when he gets to zero.

I call out again, but he doesn’t move. He continues to count, and that’s when I realize he isn’t here anymore. His mind is somewhere else.

Peering over his shoulder on my tiptoes, I manage to glance at what’s keeping his hands busy. He’s carving wood. Before I can get more details, I tap his shoulder.

“Kade.”

Before I can blink, move, or breathe, he whirls and his chest collides with mine, until we’re both wrapped into each other, desperately trying to catch our balance but both failing miserably.

With deep grunts and pained yelps, we’re intertwined.

My lungs take most of the blow when my back collides with the hard sand, and my eyes widen when I realize he’s on top of me, his hand behind the back of my head.

A sharp pinch burns the base of my neck.

I look down to see his knife at my throat.