Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,60

and travel your route. On top of that, you barely met your check-in time!”

I grit my teeth to keep from barking back. I arrived at the RV in time for check-in, despite having wandered miles out of my way to reach the pay phone that I used to call for help. I made the time cut even though I’ve got a hairline fracture in my ankle.

I inhale again, then exhale and peer up at him.

“What do you have to say, Drake?” His jaw is tight; his cheeks are ruddy; forehead shining. “You think you’re too good to give an answer? Too good to be accountable? You think because you’re a sniper for the Rangers you’re big shit? Do you?”

“No sir.”

“No sir,” he sneers. “You sound like such a brownnoser, such a little pansy-ass. I heard you’re a real do-gooder, Drake. I heard that about you. Stuck-up brownnoser. Son of a doctor. Little kiss-ass. I heard from your boys in Benning that you’re good with a gun but not much else.”

I feel my head throb.

“You think because you’re a Sergeant, because you’ve got the best record for a Ranger sniper at this moment in time, that you’re better than me? That’s what you’re thinking right now, isn’t it? Look at that fat-ass Wentworth, I’m better than him! You think you should be able to determine people’s fates yourself, don’t you? I heard your mother died when you were just a boy. What happened?”

My mind blanks. I have to struggle to work past my shock at the abrupt change of subject and draw in another breath.

“C’mon, tell me, pussy. You want to be an Operator, you want a spot on one of my teams, you will tell me anything I ask.”

I’m shaking my head before I realize what I’m doing. “I don’t have to talk about that.”

“No?” His folds his arms. His upper lip curls. “You do if it’s an order.”

I look up at him, gritting my teeth. Who the fuck does he think he is, bringing my mom into a fucking test?

“Tell me about your mother, Sergeant Drake. Tell me how she died.”

My chest aches, so sharp and deep I have to struggle not to bring a hand up to it. “Cancer,” I rasp.

“What kind of cancer?” he sneers.

I shut my eyes. Even though I know I’m being fucked with, it still hurts to say it. “Breast cancer.” I force myself to look back up at him, trying to detach my feelings from this moment and place.

“Your dad’s a surgeon. What kind of piece of shit doctor can’t save his own wife? Tell me about your old man. He a fan of you?”

My stomach twists. My throat tightens.

“Does he like you? Your father. Does your father like you, Drake? It’s yes or no.”

I blow my breath out. Glare up at him. “No.”

“Were you a mama’s boy?”

I swallow. My throat actually aches, even though my heart is pounding and I’m getting more and more pissed off.

I grit my teeth. Test or not, this fucker needs to shut up.

“Oh, so a little mama’s boy. Mama died, so we want her to be proud, is that it?” I press my lips together. “The way you aborted your mission, got off-track and didn’t tell us. Mr. Good Samaritan, wanting to save everybody that he can save.”

I clamp my molars on the inside of my cheek. I didn’t abort my mission! I stopped for half an hour to help a guy who had a wreck. I grit my teeth again, and Wentworth again jumps subjects.

“We’ve seen you use restraint as a sniper. You’d never go on a rampage, that’s what our white coats tell us. But are you one who might get over-sympathetic? Say, if you were assigned a female target. Could you take a woman out?”

I frown, confused. “I have.”

“But she was old, probably toothless,” he crows. “She had also thrown a bomb that got someone you knew. What if she’d been hot? Someone who looked like Mama. And you watched her for a long time, a little Munich Olympics situation. You watched her shave her legs and watched her cry. You never saw her do anything bad.” He sneers. “Could you eliminate a target like that?” He shakes his head, continuing the theatrics. “We don’t know about you, Drake. Where your sympathies lie.”

“Sir, I’m a sniper for the Rangers.” It comes out before I realize I’ve spoken.

“Aww, so got a kill list. I hear that. I’ve seen it. Im-press-ive,” he says in his Southern