Chapter 4

4

DEAN

S he looked off, like she'd had a rough night. Graduation celebrations could get pretty rowdy, so it wasn't a total surprise. When she sat down in the car, I caught a glimpse of her red knuckles.

Anger rolled through me, along with a feeling of protectiveness. "What the hell happened?"

"I'm walking to my dorm," she replied.

"You're bleeding," I pointed out. "Your hand and you've got a cut on your cheek. I'm going to ask you again, what the fuck happened to you?"

I was ready to go to war for her. For any woman that looked like she'd been beat up.

"Look, I'm drunk and I really want to go home and pass out. Cool? If not, I'll walk."

My knuckles whitened as my grip on the wheel tightened. She had tussled with someone and I wanted to know what happened. Mo had put me in charge of her. Technically babysitting duties didn't start until she got to Columbus, but I took my job seriously.

I didn't take her to the dorms. Instead, we parked in front of the medical building.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "It's closed."

"Not for me."

We got out of the car and I opened the door for us. Most of the lights were off and no one else was around.

"We're not supposed to be here," she said when I wiped away the blood on her face with an alcohol pad.

"Do you know who I am?" I quipped.

"Oh, yes, Ryker, the God of the skies," she joked.

"Hey, I'm the guy taking care of you."

She rolled her eyes at me and looked away as I carefully tended to her wounds.

"You need stitches," I said after a moment.

"No, it's fine. Just bandage it up," she protested.

"And let you walk around with gaping wounds? No way."

"I don't have gaping wounds," she said. "It's a scratch."

She was probably right, but I didn't like the idea of her not getting real medical help. "Does your father know about this?"

"What do you think?" she asked. Her split lip and bruised cheek didn't seem to bother her much as she grinned up at me.

She was going to be trouble.

"What happened?" I asked. "Either you tell me, or I go straight to your father."

"A bar fight," she admitted proudly.

"A bar fight?" I repeated.

She nodded. "Yep."

"What happened?"

"We were celebrating." She shrugged, as if that explained everything.

"Sarah, do your celebrations typically involve you getting your ass kicked?"

"I didn't get my ass kicked."

"How serious was this fight?" I asked her.

"Bouncers broke it up before it got too carried away," she answered nonchalantly.

"So, did she start it or you?"

"She?" she asked with confusion.

"The chick that did this to you."

Her face lit up. "It wasn't a chick. It was some frat boy."

I froze, my hand with the antibiotic ointment hovering just above hers. "Excuse me."

"What?"

"Did you just say a man did this to you?"

She smirked. "I wouldn't call him a man. He sure cried like a little boy when I hit him."

"But still." Rage burned through me like wildfire. My chest felt tight. I wanted to rip this so-called frat boy limb from limb, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. Controlling my emotions was a huge part of being a fighter pilot.

She shrugged again, her smirk turning into a grin. "Don't get all macho on me, Ryker," she said. "I can take care of myself."

"Sarah," I started, my voice low and serious. "You're hurt. A man hurt you."

"And?" She looked at me defiantly. "I've been through worse. And for your information, I wasn't the only one who walked away with a few bruises. He'll think twice before he tries to push anyone around again."

As concerned as I was for her well-being, admiration also swelled in me. This girl was something else. Stubborn, fiery, and dangerous. Dangerous to herself and anyone that fell for those freckles that made her look far younger than she was.

I shook my head at her and smiled. "Your father warned me you were trouble."

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Her eyes were hazel, but I saw more green than blue. Her long auburn hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, unlike the sharp bun she had worn at graduation. She was a beautiful woman. Petite with a natural shine that sparked something within me I had no business feeling.

She was Mo's daughter. Period. Full stop. I didn't get to think she was beautiful or sexy or mine. She was also a graduate on the brink of a bright future in the Air Force. I shouldn't get involved with her even if she wasn't Mo's daughter.

"This kind of thing won't fly in Columbus," I warned her. "You need to put your best foot forward. You can't wear the uniform and run around getting in bar fights."

She shrugged, brushing off my concerns. "And how will you know if I don't?"

I gave her a pointed look. "Oh, I'll know," I assured her.

She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Uh huh, sure," she muttered. "A big shot like you will know what a peon like me is doing in Columbus."

"I'm serious, Sarah," I pressed further, ignoring her sarcastic comment. "Your future is at stake."

"Sure thing, mom," she replied in a singsong voice that had my blood boiling.

"It's not funny," I said. "You could get seriously hurt."

"I can handle myself, Ryker", she said.

"Look, you're representing the Air Force," I told her. "You were a cadet. A young buck with some protection in your comfy little quarters here. But out there, out in the real world, not so much. You will get your ass handed to you if you embarrass or disrespect the Air Force."

"It's not like I was in uniform." She sighed. "I'm not that stupid."

"You risk your career if you ever pull a stunt like this again."

Sarah smirked, her eyes twinkling with a defiant streak that was all too familiar. "It's not like you haven't pulled a few stunts yourself, Ryker. Or have you forgotten your wild cadet days?"

A wry smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I remembered my reckless youth, but I quickly straightened my face. "That's different," I countered. "I learned from my mistakes. And it's not right to compare you to me. Our situations are entirely different."

"How?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"For one, I didn't have anyone to warn me about the consequences. No one to pull me aside and tell me that each decision I make will either further my career or bring it crashing down," I countered.

The memory of my early years in the Air Force was a stark contrast against the current matured version of myself, the high-ranking officer who had fought his way through everything with blood, sweat, and sheer stubbornness. Her father was my guiding light. He was the one that kept me from completely going off the rails and destroying my career.

"But that's just it! You turned out fine." She smiled, acting like she had justified everything.

"You need to be careful," I warned her.

"I know it gets serious. This is my last hurrah before I get sent to Boringville, thanks to my dad."

"What do you mean?"

"I was supposed to go to San Antonio, but my dad pulled some strings and got me sent to the most boring base in the country. He did it on purpose. He is sending me to Columbus because he knows it's dull. Watching paint dry will be the most exciting thing I get to do."

"Why would he do that?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Sarah lifted her chin defiantly. "Because he's scared. He's always been scared."

I didn't need her to elaborate. I knew exactly what she meant. Mo was afraid for his daughter's safety, and with good reason. Her personality—the ego, the confidence, the rebellious streak—was a glaring red flag, a recipe for trouble in the rigid hierarchy of the Air Force. I looked at her and couldn't help but wonder if that was what her father wanted me to protect her from. Was it my job to keep her in line, to shield her from the consequences of her actions? That was a full-time job. I didn't think anyone had that kind of time or energy.

"I think you'll be fine," I said and stepped back. "Might have a little scar, but you'll be fine."

"I know." She grinned. "You were trying to scare me by saying I needed stitches. I've had stitches. This is nothing."

"Did he punch you?" I asked.

"He shoved me," she clarified. "I punched him ."

"You have a mark on your cheek," I said. "That's not a shove."

"There was a lot of action," she replied. "People hitting and shoving and tables getting turned over. I don't remember how my face got hit."

I had to take a second. I couldn't imagine this little thing beating the shit out of a dude. She was way too brave for her own good.

"Come on," I said. "I'll get you to your room."

"I promise not to get into any more fights on my way," she joked. "The fresh air helps clear my head. I don't want to wake up with a hangover."

"I think it's too late for that," I muttered. "You might not be feeling any pain now, but once your liquid courage wears off, you're going to be hurting."

She looked at me, like she was trying to see through me. "Are you saying that because I'm a woman or are you saying that because you believe it?"

"Both." I shrugged. "You're wasted. And because you fought a man."

"That's what gets you, huh?" She grinned.

"Yes. I don't think it's cool. I think it's bullshit you fought a man. I think it's fucked up anyone let it happen. I think it's fucking stupid a dude thought he had the right to put his hands on you. If you want to call me a caveman, so be it. Wrong is wrong. And that's wrong."

A frown crossed her face, and I was certain she understood what I was saying. Then, shaking herself out of her thoughts, she looked up at me with a determined expression.

"I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself," she said, her voice soft but firm.

"I have no doubt you can," I replied evenly. "But that doesn't mean you should have to."

I had a feeling she was going to be one of those people that spent a lot of time in the med bay. More than others. Her ego and confidence were a red flag. Her commanding officers were going to pick up on her behavior. She was going to get bounced out of the program if she kept going at this rate.

She was the kind of young officer that pushed the limits. That could be good and bad. She had to learn how to rein in all that defiance. I knew it would be humiliating for Mo to have his daughter booted out of the flight program, but she could find herself kicked out of the Air Force altogether if she wasn't careful.

"Let me take you home," I said again.

"No," she replied. "I don't need a babysitter."

She walked out and that was it.

I shook my head and wondered what it was I had gotten myself mixed up with. Mo was going to owe me big for this one.