Wildcard Read Free

First Squad. Sergeant Michael Thrivener, at your service.”
    He held his hand out for a shake as though they’d just met. He leaned over and gave her puppy dog eyes, his expression pleading. “Now can you tell me your name? Pretty please? With a shot on top?”
    Jas chuckled, a deep throaty noise that made her sound like she’d been smoking twenty a day for the past ten years. Steph called it her “phone sex laugh.” Normally it embarrassed the hell out of her. Not now, though. She took his hand and shook it. “Jasmine McDonal…err, Howell. Sorry, recently divorced.”
    As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she winced. Recently divorced—perfect line to get them running for the hills. Watch it boys, desperate divorcee here.
    His expression deadpanned a little. The smile faded and for a second he seemed genuinely sorry for her. “Sorry… Can’t imagine that’s easy to deal with.”
    He picked up a shot glass and took the shot quickly. It was obvious the mention of divorce had touched him a little. His nose wrinkled as he swallowed.
    “Fuck him. Probably was a dirt bag anyway. Bartender, two more!” He gestured with two fingers. At her look, he explained the contents. “It’s called a brain surgery. No clue what the hell is in it, but it sure rides down smooth.”
    He handed her a glass. Inside the yellow liquor there was a thicker red substance that looked roughly like a brain, or maybe a heart, or something. She took it, trying not to look too closely at the contents.
    “Here. To moving on, because the last one was a piece of shit for not seeing how great they had it to begin with.”
    Jas sniffed at the contents and recoiled as the alcohol hit her. “Whoa, that’ll take the hairs off the inside of your nose.” She eyed him for a moment, suspicion coiling in her chest. “If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you’re trying to get me drunk here, Sergeant.”
    “Maybe I am. You’d have to be to deal with the Garth Brooks music. That’s bad enough to take the ears of a drunken sniper.”
    His tone was playful and his eyes warm as he leaned into her a little. Close enough to let the scent of his aftershave wind around her, his posture tempting her to lean forward toward him slowly.
    Jasmine lifted an eyebrow as she considered the glass again. Did she dare? Oh, to hell with it. She was young, free and single… Well, OK, two out of three wasn’t bad. She had a cute guy hanging on her every word, and her friends were just the other side of the bar with strict instructions not to let her get drunk and dance on any tables. Not that she’d ever actually danced on tables, but there was a first time for everything.
    “In for a penny,” she murmured and drained the glass in one gulp.
    “ Nice .” He chimed his glass off hers as if she were one of his buddies. “All right. Atta girl. Next one’s a bit nicer on the liver.” He handed her another glass. “And now to fun times, strangers, and what the night may bring.”
    He lifted his own glass in a mock toast. She was sure it was meant to sound uplifting, but in ways could have been seen as the opposite. Part of her wondered just what it was that made him shift so suddenly. Still, ocean blue eyes, olive skin, and a muscled build or not, he was right. A little fun wouldn’t hurt her too badly. In fact, it could be just what the doctor ordered.
    Three brain surgeries later, Jasmine’s world was spinning around the edges.
    “You, Michael, are a very bad man,” she said with a giggle after his last round of barrack-room jokes. Wriggling to the edge of the stool, she motioned him out of the way so she could clamber down. She wrinkled her nose as she contemplated the climb. At least she’d had the foresight to wear pants tonight instead of a skirt and heels. No doubt if she had, she’d have fallen off the thing onto her ass and flashed her panties to the entire bar. “At my height, you’d think I’d learn not to sit on these things, wouldn’t