That’s an order!” Wynter’s barked command echoed along the corridor, making several of the occupants, all hurrying along to attend to whatever duty they were on next, turn to look at the trio. Camden strode along beside them as Rennick held her firmly in his arms. Nothing she tried altered his strong grip—not wriggling, arching her back, or even kicking her legs like some damn kid. All she managed to achieve was wearing herself out. With a huff, she leaned against Rennick’s shoulder and ignored the fact that being carried by the big man felt nice. Very nice. Like she was something delicate to be handled carefully, not the battle-hardened soldier she was. Rennick grinned, the low rumble of amusement transmitted to her through the broad wall of his chest. “You finished, little one?” “No.” She glared at him. How the hell had she lost control of the situation so completely? She was the squad’s combat sergeant, superior to both of them, yet somehow she was being treated like she was a bloody invalid.
