Her Rogue Alpha (X-Ops Book 5) Read Free

he didn’t mind. It was cathartic in a way. And outside of pricks like Powell and Moore, he got to spend a good deal of his time working with field agents who actually cared about being able to shoot straight and hit what they were aiming at. It was damn tough training people to go out on missions when he’d never get a chance to go himself, but it was better than not being involved in anything important at all.
    At least that’s what he kept telling himself.
    The continuous throbbing in Jayson’s back as he stood at the worktable cleaning the Beretta reminded him that he’d pushed himself too hard today—again. The little railroad spike of pain when he’d bent over before was just the frosting on the cake. He was going to pay for all of it tonight. Usually, if the muscles in his back tightened up this much by noon, it almost guaranteed they’d be spasming uncontrollably by the time he went to bed that night. He wouldn’t be sleeping much, that was for sure. No matter what he did, he was in some kind of pain. It was like a shadow that followed him wherever he went.
    Fucking great.
    He had no one to blame but himself. Even though he was walking better now, his doctors warned him to use his cane as much as possible, but he hated leaning on the damn thing when anyone was around. He didn’t want to look weak in front of people, especially assholes like Powell and Moore. Of course, he rarely used his cane at home either, at least not when Layla was there. Of all the people he hated looking broken in front of, she topped the list. Unfortunately, when he pushed himself too hard, he ended up limping a lot, which made him look weak anyway.
    Jayson set down the slide he’d just cleaned and ran his hand through his short, dark-blond hair with a sigh. He still did all the physical therapy as well as the breathing and visualization techniques he’d learned, but those things didn’t mix well with a full-time job. Truthfully, it was getting harder and harder to find the motivation to keep doing them anyway. On good days, he wondered if he was going to be living with the pain for the rest of his life. On bad days, he wondered if what he had could even be called a life—and why he even bothered getting out of bed.
    It was during those dark times that he was glad the doctors had pulled him off the heavy-duty narcotics. He didn’t want to think about where his head would be if he had access to bottles of the mind-numbing crap he’d been living on before he’d met Layla. Right now, he was making do with over-the-counter painkillers and prescription muscle relaxants.
    And Layla’s constant support.
    He wasn’t sure how much longer that was going to last since he seemed to be blowing the only chance he had with her. When she walked out of his life… Well, something told him he wasn’t going to last too long.
    Jayson swallowed hard and picked up the barrel of the Beretta, practically attacking it with the cleaning cloth. He could see himself pushing her away even while he was shouting at himself to stop messing up the only good thing he had going in his life. Yet he couldn’t seem to stop.
    He didn’t understand what the hell was wrong with him. He was in love with Layla, had been since the moment they’d met. He loved every inch of her, from her feline grace and beauty to her quiet strength and patience. But every time he opened his mouth to tell her that, the dumbest shit possible came rolling out. And when he wasn’t saying something provoking and hurtful, he was ignoring her.
    A few months ago, when Layla had first confessed she was a shifter and worked for a secret organization called the DCO, they’d been on the verge of sleeping together. These days they barely talked, much less touched. He hadn’t kissed her like a man was supposed to kiss his girlfriend in weeks.
    He knew she was just about at the end of her rope with him. He was surprised she’d put up with his childish crap this long. On good days, he was an