Free Enemy From The Past (Unseen Enemy Book 4) by Marysol James

colossal administrative fuck-up: somebody had pushed his file forward when it should have been kicked right off the desk and thrown in the trash. That he should be back on the family farm in Iowa.
    That maybe I have more in common with fuckers like Ferguson than I do with guys like Dean and Dallas and Chris.
    Jim thought about his quick temper, his suspicion, his inability to trust or connect with anybody beyond the guys. And God, just look at him compared to his friends, right? Dallas was a business owner and one of the best damn snipers that anyone had ever known. Dean also had his own business, and he’d been the LT of their unit. Chris had been a foot-soldier like Jim and was now a mechanic, but he also had that almost magical quality that made frightened women trust him, even after they’d been brutalized by the Taliban. Or by four drunk assholes up in a cabin over two days.
    And who was Jim, what was Jim? Just a guy who did what he was told to do: as a Ranger, as an employee. Dean was, after all, his boss at the tattoo parlour, and even though Jim liked his work a lot, he knew it was all he could do. He’d never lead, never own.
    I’m nothing special. I’m nobody important. How the hell did I end up among the elite? Somebody fucked up somewhere; that’s the only explanation.
    This dark, secret fear had been whispering to him for years, and hearing about Ferguson had now dragged it kicking and howling in to the light. The hard and undeniable knowledge than an abusive man had been pushed and promoted in to the upper ranks was now staring him in the face. And after all, if Ferguson had somehow received what he didn’t deserve and shouldn’t have even been offered, then who’s to say that the same thing hadn’t happened to Jim?
    He finished his beer, went to get a third one, then thought about Kat. She’d wake up soon and God knows, the last thing she needed was Jim drunk and angry. He’d promised to make her feel safe, and he guessed that had to start with making sure she was safe with him. None of his fucking snapping and bad temper.
    Maybe you don’t deserve what you’ve been given, man, but you sure as hell can make sure that Kat gets what she needs… including respect, calm and security. It’s not much, and God knows she deserves more and better, but it’s something you can do. So fucking do it.

Chapter Seven
     
    When Dean and Dallas walked in to Dallas’ house, they were surprised to see Emma and Olivia sitting on the sofa, giggling and swilling Champagne. Dean’s heart jumped, and he hoped this meant what he thought it meant.
    “Hey,” Dallas drawled at them. “Is this a party?”
    “Damn right,” Liv said. “Tell him, Em!”
    “I’m in remission,” Emma told Dallas shyly. “Cancer-free.”
    Dallas stared at her for a few seconds, totally stunned, then he whooped and grabbed her up in a massive hug. She held on to his muscled shoulders, laughing, as he spun her around and around. He set her down again, and just gazed at her like she was the most astounding thing he’d ever laid eyes on.
    “That’s amazing!” he said, then turned to Dean. “Why the hell didn’t you say something, man?”
    Dean looked at Emma, saw the worried look on her face. “Oh, I thought that was Emma’s job, you know? It’s her healthy bone marrow.”
    She looked relieved, and flashed him a big smile.
    “Yeah, that’s true.” Dallas bounded in to the kitchen and grabbed two more glasses. “Champagne, Dean?”
    “Hell, yeah.” Dean smiled back at Emma, happy to finally be able to celebrate the way that he’d wanted to since hearing this amazing news. “You’d better believe it.”
    Two hours later, Dean and Emma headed next door, back home. She was stumbling a bit, and he grinned down at her as he took her arm.
    “You tipsy, angel?”
    “No. I’m actually smashed.” She gazed up at him blearily. “I think my tolerance for alcohol is shot to H, E, double-hockey-sticks.”
    He laughed, thinking