Chapter 33

He’d beat a man unconscious once—he’d been caught forcing a child in one of the little French villages close to the lines and he’d been shot, in the end. But Alec had worked him over first. He’d had to be pulled away by his sergeant. He was ashamed of it. He believed in the rule and process of law, but in France that had been ramshackle at best and he had been as ramshackle as the structure of military discipline within which he’d been working.

The only thing that would empty out the sticky, tarry pit of self-disgust had been violence. Or sex. Or sexual violence. The man underneath him gasped and writhed again and Alec realized he was still putting an almost breaking pressure on his arm and pressing close against his arse. He took a breath and stepped back a little, easing his grip.

“Okay, you bastard!” The man’s language didn’t shock him. “Back the fuck off and let me go and I’ll talk. For fuck’s sake!”