Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,59

in the center of the room.

Wentworth, the commander of the unit, is husky and freckled, with a thick, reddish beard and pale blue eyes that narrow on me as I kick off my appearance with a sharp salute.

“Sir! Sergeant Drake reports to the commander!”

Wentworth has me hold my position while he runs those keen eyes up and down me. Finally he returns my salute and tells me to sit down.

Then he lumbers up and shuffles over to me. With his limp and his big frame, he reminds me slightly of a wounded bear. He scowls down at me as the other men watch impassively.

I can see his nostrils flaring with his exhalations, see his belly move under his uniform. When he speaks, his voice is a low boom, like a sports announcer’s.

“I was gonna call you in here and tell you you’re in.” His bushy brows wiggle as he sinks a hand into his pocket. “We want you.” He blinks down at me. “Seems like you’ve got what it takes to be an Operator. To be a sniper. In the Unit, we want the best. Seemed you were the best.”

My head hammers. My mouth feels dry as I look up at him, just waiting for the catch.

“Then we found out you’re a liar.” He jerks something from his pocket. It’s a Polaroid picture—one that shows me stopped beside a man who’s lying on a winding mountain road beside a banged up motorcycle.

“Do you know this man?”

I blink, my blood rushing in my ears.

“Is this fellow a friend of yours? Someone you had to try and come and help you?” My mouth opens. He grits his teeth and glares down at me, glaring me to interrupt in self-defense.

“You deviated from your assignment on the field navigation test to help this man and even wandered down the way to one of the road’s emergency phone booths. You made a call to local law enforcement. A Good Samaritan.” Wentworth laughs derisively and shakes his head. The look on his face tells me I’m an idiot, and I don’t even know why.

“You didn’t do the humane thing, Drake. You didn’t stay with him, even though he called behind you as you walked away.”

My face must show some quiver of surprise, because his tightens as his neck and cheeks flush deeper red.

“Did you think we weren’t watching? You think you can do whatever you want? You were not to deviate from the mission!” Spittle flies down at me. “You think you can jeopardize what you do as an Operator for a stranger? Play Good Samaritan and call for help for the guy? You didn’t stay the course! You didn’t even stay with him. He was bleeding, and you left him.” Shame flares through me. “That motorcyclist you came across—the one you threw the nav test away for—he died. You could have saved him, but you half-assed that, too.”

My stomach rolls as he holds his hand up, ticking my sins off on his fingers. “First you leave your course. You use a phone and call police. And then you lack the balls to even follow through and stay with this man as he suffers. He was an innocent civilian, not a war criminal. You have the conscience to help him but you’re too big of a pussy to abandon your mission and stay to comfort this man in his time of need.” He shakes his head. The guilt I’m feeling lessens as I realize he’s rambling. “You have no morals. You’re worthless!”

The insult makes my head feel hot, my fists clench up. Instead of jumping up and throttling the asshole, I hold still, the wheels in my head spinning.

“I wouldn’t have thought a Ranger would be worthless, but that’s what you are, sergeant.”

I take a slow breath. Exhale as he scowls down at me.

I get this. They’re trying to rattle me. Why else would Wentworth chastise me for not staying with the injured biker I came up on during the nav course? My actual orders were not to deviate for anything, so it makes no sense that I’m being chastised for not sitting with the injured stranger long enough.

I take another deep breath. Ride it out. This is a test.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His voice booms, echoing faintly in the near-to-empty meeting room. “You let a stranger die when you have medical training as an Army Ranger. You lied to us—to the cadre members who assumed you had done nothing but chart