Free Impossible End (Unchecked Book 3) by Sybil Bartel Page A

here for an hour of peace, not soapy musk and unleashed strength. I didn’t have time for bullshit fantasies. I glanced at my watch. I didn’t have time at all. My hour was almost up.
    I reached for my purse. Black boots, worn but polished to a high shine, had caged it in. And because I’d done nothing right since I’d walked through the church doors, I let my traitorous eyes sweep up. Hard muscles strained against black cargo pants. A fitted T-shirt skimmed a flat stomach and stretched across impossibly wide shoulders. A cut jaw ticked and cold, knowing eyes waited.
    He raised an eyebrow.
    My leg began to bounce.
    “Everything okay?” he whispered.
    Okay? No, everything was not okay. I was sitting next to a marine who made me wish I was anyone else besides who I was—utterly alone yet followed everywhere. Nothing about that was okay. But before I could do something really stupid, like acknowledge him, the haunting sounds of the organ filled the church and mass ended. I grabbed my purse and shot to my feet.
    But the marine didn’t step out of the pew. He rose to his towering height, blocked my escape and waited for every single person to file out of the church. Then he stepped out and back a foot.
    I told myself not to. I really did, but it was as if this complete stranger had destroyed all of my self-control. So, I glanced up.
    And the marine glared at me.
    Struck dumb, I stared for two heartbeats before self-preservation kicked in. Then I scrambled forward and tripped. Viselike heat gripped my upper arm and I was immediately righted. Stunned by the strength in his hand, I jerked away and rushed out of the church.
    The priest’s crinkly face smiled in my direction then looked past me with concern. “Sergeant Johnson, good to see you. How is your mother?”
    “Not well, sir.”
    I flew down the steps. The last words I heard were his.
    “Who is that, Father?”

I DIDN’T BOTHER LOOKING FOR the men that’d been following me since I’d moved to Gainesville. I never should’ve left Miami but I couldn’t breathe for the memories. Fumbling through my purse, searching for my keys, I didn’t recognize the name being called behind me.
    “Ms. Blair.”
    Where the hell were my keys?
    “Ma’am.”
    My hand palmed my keys the instant recognition hit. Layna Blair was my new name.
    “Ms. Blair, you forgot something.”
    Damn it. I never should’ve told the priest my name. Tempering my rising panic, resigned to getting this over with, I turned around.
    “Your sweater, ma’am.” Anger gone, arm outstretched, the marine studied me.
    I silently took the sweater.
    “In a hurry?” Patient, deep, his voice was almost cathartic.
    I didn’t say anything. What was the point? I’d be gone in ten seconds and I’d never see him again. I flipped the sweater over my shoulders and got one arm shoved in before he reached out to hold the other sleeve. When his fingers brushed over my shoulder, I shivered.
    He frowned. “You’re cold.”
    This was taking too long. Sucking in a breath, I forced out polite words. “Thanks for the sweater.” I turned back toward my car.
    He moved with me. “You’re not from here.”
    I scanned the parking lot. He’d been talking to me too long. “No. Good night.”
    His eyes narrowed and without moving, he seemed to come closer. His voice went even, quiet. “Everything okay, ma’am?”
    “Yeah, fine. Thanks again.” I unlocked my car and reached for the handle.
    The marine’s hand shot out, bracing against the driver’s door. “Wait,” he commanded in a hushed whisper.
    “Is there a problem?” an accented voice asked.
    Shit. Shitty shit shit. I’d lingered too long. Play it off, play it off, I silently chanted. Maybe they wouldn’t do anything to him. I took a deep breath and turned around to face the men who followed me.
    “That depends,” the marine said in his even, quiet voice.
    The shorter of the two men laughed and my skin crawled. They were like all the rest over the