Free Impossible End (Unchecked Book 3) by Sybil Bartel

got pissed off.
    I sighed. “SARC, Marines.”
    “What?”
    “Not a doctor. Trauma medic. Answer my question.”
    “I don’t want to go back there.” Nothing changed in her expression.
    I pushed off the desk, hoping like hell she was telling the truth. “Okay. Let’s go.”
    Her shoulders stiffened. “Where?”
    “ER. X-rays. Your wrist’s broken and I want your cheek looked at. Not to mention the leg you’re favorin’ that you won’t tell me about.”
    “It doesn’t hurt as much as my wrist.”
    “Thank God for small favors. Up.” I held my hand out, gentleman that I am.
    She stared at my hand a moment.
    Then she reached for me and her entire story fell to shit.

    TALON (Uncompromising Series Book One) releases March 1 st , 2016

    Turn the page for an excerpt from IMPOSSIBLE PROMISE , Book One in the Unchecked Series by Sybil Bartel, now available at all participating e-retailers.

IMPOSSIBLE PROMISE
    By Sybil Bartel
    Marine Sergeant Blaze Johnson offered Layna Blair a way out—her freedom, his rules, no questions asked.
     

    G LANCING OVER MY SHOULDER, I crossed the parking lot. I didn’t see them but that didn’t mean they weren’t close. They were always close, but I’d found a place where they wouldn’t follow me. One hour a week—when you had nothing, it was something.
    I breezed into the last pew and kneeled just long enough to cross myself. I wished the gesture still held some significance but I’d stopped believing three years ago. The thought of three years ago made the familiar panic surface. Sweaty palms, shortness of breath, heart clamoring to get out from under my ribs. They were all a precursor to the terror. I dug my nails into my palms, desperate to take my mind away from the past.
    Maybe tonight had been a bad idea. I should’ve stayed hidden in my apartment. Then I wouldn’t be here, studying the side exit, counting the steps, wondering if I slipped out the back how long it would take before they found me. Because they always found me. I wasn’t stupid enough to go far. I glanced at the exit again. No, tonight, I was going to be just stupid enough to give them something to do. I grabbed my purse and stood.
    He stopped in the aisle and fear more familiar than my own name prickled across my skin. His deep, quiet voice hit me a fraction of a second before his scent.
    “This seat taken?” Soap and musk mingled with old church, and blue eyes the color of winter ice stared down at me.
    My stomach in my throat, I shook my head, and he stepped into the pew. When he focused his attention forward, the air whooshed out of my lungs. He wasn’t one of them. They never got this close, not in public, but the fear was ingrained—three years ingrained.
    My exit strategy shot, I set my purse down and snuck a glance at the wall of muscle next to me. Legs slightly apart, hands clasped in front, he stood perfectly motionless. Square jaw, chiseled cheekbones, his features were too harsh to be beautiful and too beautiful to be harsh. His close-cropped haircut screamed military, but the bottom of a tattoo peeking out from his shirt sleeve was the giveaway. USMC.
    For one impossible moment, I closed my eyes. He smelled amazing, like freedom and strength and security—everything I’d never have again. Resigned, to my one hour, to my life, I glanced at the stupid exit and swore under my breath. “Damn it.”
    Quick, precise, the marine turned and locked his gaze on me. Heat hit my cheeks, my mouth went dry and the sweater over my shoulders fell to the seat. Shit. Shit. I quickly looked away but the damage was done. I’d drawn attention to myself.
    For the next forty-five minutes I tried to go through the motions of the service, but the closeness of the marine was making me want to crawl out of my skin. Vibrating with raw power, he was so distracting I wanted to shove him into the aisle…or cower under his huge biceps and hide. And that would be disastrous. Fuck-my-whole-life-up disastrous. I came