Fiddlestix’ day isn’t going well. First, she is given a hell of an assignment, then she finds out that Lieutenant Frieze, who was supposed to be in command, is probably malingering. To confirm this, she goes to the infirmary to find him doped up on pain meds.
“He came in complaining of a pulled muscle. Honest, Stix, I couldn’t find evidence of it, no matter what tests I ran. He didn’t have a bump, bruise, strain or—bulge,” his voice caught and he gasped as her hand moved up his thigh. “Nothing, babe, I swear. He’s as healthy as you or me.”
“But yet he’s doped to the gillies, why’s that?”
“He insisted. Low pain tolerance, he claims.”
“Is that in addition to his yellow streak and cold feet?”
Brant chuckled seductively. He held the same opinion of Frieze and McLain that she did. His hand fell on hers gently, holding…
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