Read Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) for Free Online Page B

enough with green recruits to recognize the first time shock of a grisly dead body.
    He crouched beside her and took her face firmly in his hand. “Look at me.”
    Her chin jerked beneath his fingers. He waited until she turned her teary eyes on him. “The bastard’s gone. He can’t tell you a damn thing.”
    Keith released her and shifted the familiar solid weight of the MP5 to his left hand. Then he snatched the dead man’s sidearm off his belt and pressed it into Grace’s palm. “Let’s go.”
    “I need...a minute.” She curled her fingers around the pistol, but didn’t move.
    “We don’t have a minute, Grace. Get your butt in gear.” They may have lost the other gun-toting bastards for the moment, but that kind of luck never lasted long.
    She mutely shook her head, her lips pressed tight.
    He stifled a curse. Grabbing hold of her wrist, he yanked her to her feet.
    “I think I’m going to be sick,” she said.
    Oh, yeah. This was just perfect . “You can be sick later.”
    She reared back, forcing him to tighten his grip on her wrist.
    “Unless you want me to lose it on your shoes, you’d better let go.”
    He dropped his hold on her. “Go.”
    Grace whirled away, stumbled in a wide arc around Uncle Jack, and dropped to her knees in front of the nearest tree.
    He grimaced and, in an effort to give her a semblance of privacy, turned his back on her. Not that it mattered since he could clearly hear her retching. It brought him back to the days of his first mission. The tension, the knot in his stomach that expressed itself in much the same way as Grace once the op was over.
    “I...” From behind him, she cleared her throat.
    He tossed a look over his shoulder.
    Grace dragged the edge of her shirt across her mouth. “I’m ready.”
    She retraced her footsteps until she reached Uncle Jack. She drew a deep breath, her spine stiffened, and focused her eyes on the dead body.
    Her gaze shifted to the house. The faint orange glow of flames mingled with horror in the depths of Grace’s eyes. She dipped her head and her eyelids slid closed. How did it feel to watch a beloved home go up in smoke? Keith would’ve set fire to the shack he’d grown up in if it could have exorcised all the ghosts there.
    The wood crackled, the wind kicked up, stirring the hair that curled around her ears. A sudden whoosh and pop broke away from the roaring of the flames. He grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back as the fire engulfed the roof and the trusses began to collapse.
    She yanked her shoulder out of his grasp, clutched the pistol tighter with both hands, and shot him a look of pure steely determination. “Okay. Let’s go.”
    The raw, whispered words were such a direct contradiction to the resolve in her eyes they struck him dumb for a moment. Her tears had left a trail down her dirt-streaked cheeks, proof that just minutes ago she’d fallen apart on him.
    Thick smoke pressed in on them. He coughed and swiped at his burning eyes, sure he must have misinterpreted the look, but she still wore it. Most of the men he served with took time to learn the necessity of distancing themselves from death and loss.
    Grace set her jaw and took off for the Jeep. He caught up with her, rounded to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. She took the passenger seat without argument.
    “Keys?”
    Her trembling hand passed them over. Keith put the key into the ignition and turned it hard. The Jeep started with a grinding roar. From his peripheral vision, he saw a man dash out of the trees. Their time was up.
    “Get down.” Keith barked the command to Grace and leaned over to shove her head between her knees.
    Perspiration coated his palms; his pulse jumped a notch. He jammed the gear into reverse and stomped on the gas pedal. The tires spun, sending gravel spraying beneath the rubber as the Jeep executed a quick one-eighty. He slammed his foot on the brake pedal and shifted into drive without waiting for the Jeep to come to a