Author: Gennita Low; Marliss Melton; Sharon Hamilton; Stephanie Tyler; Elle James
Date: 2014-02-09 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Military; Romance; Suspense; SEALs
Description: 8 Navy SEAL stories by bestselling authors: Marliss Melton, Gennita Low, Teresa Reasor, Elle James, Delilah Devlin, Stephanie Tyler, J.M. Madden and Sharon Hamilton CODE OF SILENCE by Award-winning Internationally Bestselling author Marliss Melton: Navy SEAL Vinny DeInnocentis has no idea his news reporter wife is keeping secrets. With her hard-won reputation for rooting out corruption, Ophelia can’t let a little thing like her unexpected pregnancy get in the way of exposing Pennsylvania’s lieutenant governor for the liar he is. But will her quest to publicize the truth — and her shocking disc
Publisher: A SpecOpsAuthors Production

SEALed with a Kiss

The Only ALL SEAL Anthology

Eight NYT, USA Today and National Bestelling Authors

Code of Silence

Copyright © 2014 Marliss Melton

Holding On

Copyright © 2011 Stephanie Tyler

Mutiny’s Bounty

Copyright © 2014 Delilah Devlin

Warrior

Copyright © 2014 Gennita Low

Seal’s Desire

Copyright © 2014 Elle James

Breaking Free

Copyright © 2011 Teresa J. Reasor

SEAL’s Lost Dream

Copyright © 2014 J.M. Madden

SEAL My Destiny

Copyright © 2014 Sharon Hamilton

EPUB Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Box Set Contents

Code of Silence
Marliss Melton

Holding On
Stephanie Tyler

Mutiny’s Bounty
Delilah Devlin

Warrior
Gennita Low

Seal’s Desire
Elle James

Breaking Free
Teresa J. Reasor

SEAL’s Lost Dream
J.M. Madden

SEAL My Destiny
Sharon Hamilton

Code of Silence

A Novella based on characters from NEXT TO DIE

Marliss Melton

This novella is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Feb 2014 by Marliss Melton

EPUB Edition

©James-York Press, P. O. Box 141, Williamsburg, VA23187

All Rights Reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including scanning, xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information or retrieval system, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and copyright owner of this book. For information, write to James-York Press, P. O. Box 141, Williamsburg, VA 23187. For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact James-York Press, P. O. Box 141, Williamsburg, VA 23187 or write to James-YorkPress@cox.net

Published by James-York Press

Feb 2014/eBook

March 2014/paperback

Edited by Wendie Grogan and Sydney Baily-Gould

Book Cover Designed by: ©Pistoliqued—Dar Albert

Interior Pages Illustrated by: James-York Press

Interior Design by: BB ebooks

Ebook

ISBN-10: 193873212X (eBook)

ISBN-13: 978-1-938732-12-6 (eBook)

Rave Reviews for
MARLISS MELTON

THE ENFORCER

“If a reader is looking for grass-roots realism, that’s what they’ll find in this well-written tale, steeped in the hardships of those who have experienced the horrors of war. THE ENFORCER is in a league of its own.”

—InD’tale Magazine

THE GUARDIAN

“Well, Marliss Melton does it again. Packs a book full of action, suspense, mystery and romance.”

—Lorelei’s Lit Lair

THE PROTECTOR

“…the kind of intrigue I enjoy, much like Tom Clancy, Vince Flynn, David Baldacci, and Steig Larsen. In my opinion they have nothing on her.”

—Lt. Col. John Lund, U.S. Air Force, ret.

SHOW NO FEAR

“If you enjoy good suspense, lots of action, plenty of plot twists and realistic romance, then Marliss Melton’s Show No Fear is for you.”

—Novel Reviews, Book Reviews

TOO FAR GONE

“Likeable and honorable characters who elicit sympathy and/or empathy…”

—RomRevToday.com

DON’T LET GO

“4 Stars! Another winner in a top-notch series! …”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

NEXT TO DIE

“Melton brings her considerable knowledge about the military and intelligence world to this Navy SEAL series.”

—Freshfiction.com

TIME TO RUN

“Melton…doesn’t miss a beat in this involving story.”

—Publishers Weekly

IN THE DARK

“Hooked me from the first page…”

—Lisa Jackson, NYT Bestselling Author

FORGET ME NOT

“A wonderful book, touching all the right heartstrings. I highly recommend it!”

—Heather Graham, NYT Bestselling Author

Novels by
MARLISS MELTON

THE TASKFORCE SERIES

THE PROTECTOR (Aug 2011)

THE GUARDIAN (Feb 2013)

THE ENFORCER (Sept 2013)

TEAM TWELVE NAVY SEALs SERIES

FORGET ME NOT (Dec 2004)

IN THE DARK (June 2005)

TIME TO RUN (Feb 2006)

NEXT TO DIE (August 2007)

DON’T LET GO (April 2008)

TOO FAR GONE (Nov 2008)

SHOW NO FEAR (Sept 2009)

LONG GONE, A Novella (Nov 2012)

CODE OF SILENCE, A Novella (Feb 2014)

Chapter One

‡

Ophelia Price stared in disbelief at the plus sign on the plastic pregnancy test strip. Oh, my God. She could not have been more astounded if the bathroom ceiling suddenly collapsed on top of her head. She’d taken this same test twice before in the past ten years, and they’d both shown up negative. That plus sign was not supposed to be there, not when she’d taken the pill more or less regularly for over a decade and her periods had come like clockwork, at least until this month. With her period three weeks late, she’d decided to take the test, but only as a precautionary measure, never dreaming that the results would be what they were.

It had to be a mistake. Only it said right there on the box: 98% accurate. And she had been feeling a teeny bit sick every morning for the past two weeks.

I’m pregnant.

Her heart beat a tattoo of denial. An icy numbness filled her heart. The timing could not be worse. In the past five years, her job in journalism had taken off, elevating her to the position of lead investigative reporter. WTKR had stolen her away from WAVY television by offering her an obscene salary to go after every dirty cop, corporation, or politician she could find. For a girl who’d once wasted her degree in journalism by waitressing at Hooters, she’d sure come a long way. And she owed a lot of her success—most of it, in fact—to her new husband, Vinny, and his faith in her. Now she made the big bucks exposing fraud and corruption, and she loved what she did for a living.

I can’t have a baby.

It would ruin everything. The fabulous run on her career would come to a screeching halt the moment she shared her news with anyone. Vinny, she had no doubt, would use her pregnancy as a reason for her to spend more time at home. And then there was her boss who would pull her off the set the minute she started showing—pregnant news reporters weren’t sexy. Maternity leave would be the final nail in her coffin. She’d be relegated to small-time reporting—no more national scandals or multi-corporate shakedowns. And then who would she be? Just a mother, a job she was totally unfit for.

The light knock on the door startled the tester out of Ophelia’s hand. It clattered to the tiled floor, skidding toward the toilet.

“You okay in there, cara mia?” Vinny asked with concern in his deep voice.

Locks had never been a deterrent to her husband. Snatching up the evidence lest he catch sight of it, Ophelia offered up a lie. “Just doing my makeup, hon. I’ll be out in a sec.”

She and Vinny had eloped while on vacation in Bermuda the previous spring. The spur-of-the-moment ceremony performed under a moon gate was just one more reason why his mother had come to resent her. It had taken Ophelia five years to marry her son, and then she’d gone and done it without his mother there to bear witness.

At times Ophelia regretted not having shared that special moment the way they should have, with Vinny’s family and his fellow Navy SEALs present, along with her older sister Penny. But it had felt so right, so romantic, pledging her future to Vinny under the round stone arch overlooking the tourmaline sea. Besides, who had time to plan an elaborate wedding?

Vinny was her soul mate. She’d belonged to him even before she’d been ready to admit it. He knew her better than anyone. He also knew she was lying right then because she always put on her makeup in the car. He had to be rolling his eyes at her lame attempt to deceive him.

“Listen,” he said, making her hold her breath, “how about we go to Mama’s for Thanksgiving instead of her coming down this year? She says her washing machine doesn’t work, and she needs me to fix it. Plus, I’m worried about her health.”

He wanted to go to Philly for Thanksgiving? A spurt of excitement replaced her shock and self-doubt. Wait, could Vinny have guessed her plans to interview the lieutenant governor of Pennsylvania next month? No way. He wouldn’t want them going anywhere near Philly if he had an inkling of what she intended.

“Ah, sure,” she said, swinging a thoughtful look at her reflection in the mirror. “That sounds okay.” She wasn’t going to tell him either, or he’d change his mind about visiting his mother.

“Did you just say okay?” he responded, sounding incredulous. “I said, we need to go to Mama’s for Thanksgiving,” he repeated, enunciating each word.

“Yeah, why not?” Ophelia took one last look at the tester before stuffing it inside the tampon box under the sink.

A subtle click of the lock had her slamming the cabinet shut and straightening guiltily as the door swung slowly open. There stood Vinny peering around the door, his chocolate brown eyes locking on her guilty expression.

“I’ve told you not to do that!” Ophelia scolded. “A woman needs her privacy.”

“I could tell you weren’t on the toilet. What’s going on?” he demanded.

She rolled her eyes. “Why do you think something’s going on?”

He just looked at her in that intent, all-seeing way of his that made her toes curl inside of her high heeled shoes. “You just agreed to Thanksgiving at my mother’s,” he pointed out.

She strove for an innocent look. “Yes, I did.”

Vinny’s eyes narrowed, conveying utter skepticism. Ophelia never could resist those eyes. Rimmed with lush lashes, they sloped just enough that, combined with his hooked nose, they made him resemble a young Al Pacino. “Then you’ve forgiven her for her remark about your skinny hips?”

Ophelia forced a negligent shrug even though the reminder reawakened her resentment. “What’s to forgive? She was upset that she’d missed our wedding. It’s only natural that she would lash out about it. Any mother would be upset about missing her only son’s wedding.”

“True.” Vinny nodded, his gaze still watchful. “But she said some pretty hurtful things,” he acknowledged.

Rose’s exact words had been that it was time she quit her job, put some meat on her skinny hips, and start being the wife that Vinny deserved. “She wants grandbabies,” Ophelia reminded him with just a stitch of resentment left. “Who can blame her?” Guilt pinched her anew as she considered that she could now make Rose’s dreams come true. But she had no intention of sharing that happy news—not yet, anyway.

Vinny’s gentle smile did nothing to ease her conscience as he waded deeper into the bathroom, his arms outstretched. “Yeah, maybe we can work on that before you go to work this morning,” he suggested in a husky voice, pulling her into his embrace. The musky sweat that clung to his T-shirt from his morning run prompted Ophelia to squirm free.

“You’re going to soil my work clothes,” she protested.

“Just a kiss then,” he pleaded, catching her jaw in his hand and turning her head toward his. One touch of his warm, supple lips and Ophelia forgot about escaping.

Goosebumps played tag along her skin as his clever tongue coaxed her lips to part so he could offer her a glimpse of what she’d be missing. By the time he lifted his head, the floor seemed to be tilting and she was seriously considering getting undressed to join him in the shower. She grabbed his wrist to read his watch. “Oh, shoot, I’m late.”

“You’re always late,” he pointed out. “What’s another half hour?”

“No, seriously, I have to go. My new boss is making us sign in.”

“The prick,” Vinny exclaimed.

“Tell me about it.” On the verge of slipping under his arm and out of the room, Ophelia pressed a heartfelt kiss on Vinny’s cheek. “I love you,” she told him, surprised to feel tears sting her eyes.

His dark eyebrows quirked. “I love you, too,” he said.

She fled before he could question her. Vinny knew her like nobody else did, even better than her sister. If he guessed her circumstances, if he knew that their child was growing in her womb, he would move heaven and earth to get her to quit her job and stay at home, where their baby would be safe.

Over my dead body, Ophelia thought, exiting the bathroom swiftly and collecting her purse and jacket from the hall closet. Being the lead investigative reporter was the one thing she did well. It gave her the self-respect she desperately craved. Before her career in journalism, she’d been living with her sister because she couldn’t support herself waitressing and indulging in pastimes that were self-destructive.

And then Vinny De Innocentis had come along. He might have been four years her junior, but he was so totally with-it, with a sound work-ethic, a career in the Navy, and a long-term goal of becoming a doctor. He’d inspired her to improve herself. Finally, she felt like she was worthy of him, but only because of her job.

If and when he found out she was pregnant, that would change—not just because Vinny would insist that she alter her priorities but also because being pregnant would ruin her career.

Maybe she wouldn’t tell Vinny. The thought sneaked into her brain as she backed out of their single-car garage, executing a U-turn next to Vinny’s Honda Civic. She could visit a clinic somewhere and quietly abort—oh, God, no. She dismissed the notion the instant it occurred to her. She could never do that to Vinny or their baby. Not when she already knew what a terrific father he would make. Not when he let her park her car in their one-car garage so she didn’t have to run in and out of the weather. He deserved way better than that. He deserved better than her.

I’m a shitty person. Shame for having even considered an abortion made her swallow hard as she tugged the gear shift into drive and took off down Shore Drive in Virginia Beach, headed for Norfolk. But the fact remained that there were even shittier people out there pulling the wool over other people’s eyes, manipulating the system in their endless quest for power. And if Ophelia Price didn’t call those people onto the carpet to account for their sins, then who would?

Fixing her eyes on the road, she grubbed in her purse in search of the bronzer she usually applied as she drove. Vinny’s chiding voice sounded in her head, arresting her search. Baby, you don’t need to do that. You’re beautiful just the way you are.

Pulling down the visor to look in the mirror there, she studied her reflection critically. Through her turquoise eyes, she admired her smart gray jacket and cream silk top. Back when Vinny had first met her she’d dressed like a hippy, not a professional. Her red-gold hair was pinned up in a loose but elegant knot. She leaned closer to the mirror, spying fine lines around her eyes and across her forehead. Did Vinny, who was all of twenty-five years old now, find her too mature? She would turn thirty in August.

Shutting the visor with a snap, she passed up the bronzer in favor of colored lip-gloss and decided to forego makeup otherwise. If she went on the air later, a makeup artist would put a ton of products on her then. She might be an inherently selfish person, but she didn’t need to risk the secret life inside her for no reason whatsoever.

*

Vinny’s mother still lived in the Italian neighborhood of Bella Vista in the same brick row house squeezed between two others just like it, on a street jammed with cars and sprinkled with debris. Whenever Ophelia took in his old stomping ground, she couldn’t help but marvel at what he’d overcome.

“You’re a saint,” she decided of her husband as he parallel-parked her somewhat new, sunburnt orange Kia Soul between two beaters.

He issued a startled laugh. “Hardly.” He slanted her a funny look. “What makes you say that?”

She just shook her head at his humility. Not only had Vinny resisted recruitment by the local gangs while growing up here, but he’d also helped to raise his little sister when their father ran off and his mother fell ill. “Most people are victims of their circumstances,” she said with a grimace. “But you always take the high road.” Which was probably why she felt like such a loser in comparison.

His purely Italian shrug sloughed off her praise. “Nah, it’s a choice,” he stated. “Everybody has a choice.”

His words echoed in her head as he set the parking brake and punched the button that killed her engine. A frown of worry furrowed his forehead as he took in his former neighborhood. “We should’a brought my car. Someone’s gonna key your car for bein’ so new.”

“Well, that’s why I hit Penny’s mailbox. Now the dent in the fender makes it look like all the other cars.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, that’s why you ran into the mailbox.”

“Yep.” Truth was, she thought she might just need her car to keep her appointment with the lieutenant governor, and she hadn’t learned to drive Vinny’s stick shift—or rather, he didn’t trust her to drive his stick shift.

“And here I thought you wanted your car so you could leave if Mama hurt your feelings,” he replied.

“That, too.”

Vinny squeezed her hand. “She’ll behave herself, I promise. Besides, Bella’s here to distract her.” He gestured toward his little sister’s lime green Escort as he pushed out of the driver’s seat. Ophelia followed suit, rounding the back of the car to help with their luggage. Isabella, now a student at Drexel University, was home for the holiday.

A chilly breeze redolent with the smells of garlic wafted from a nearby restaurant. As they climbed the home’s front stoop, the door popped open. There stood Mama Rose, her doughy arms outstretched to greet them.

“Figlio mio,” she exclaimed, drawing Vinny against her apron-clad bosom as he stepped up to greet her. If his shoulders weren’t as wide as the door itself, the embrace might have swallowed him whole. “Welcome, welcome,” she crooned. Kissing him soundly on both cheeks, she then regarded Ophelia through eyes identical to Vinny’s. The thread of tension between them snapped as she shoved Vinny aside to embrace Ophelia with equal warmth. “Thank you for coming. I cook all day!” she exclaimed, her English as elementary as it had been since Ophelia first met her five years ago. “Come in, come! S’cold outside.”

They hadn’t moved beyond the foyer before the old staircase shuddered and Isabella DeInnocentis, as dark-haired and athletic as her brother, blew down from the upper level, colliding into Vinny at a full run. But he was ready for her, swinging her around to keep from staggering backwards. “Hey, sis! How’s it goin’?”

“Better now that you’re home,” she said breathlessly.

He frowned at her, then looked at his mother. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” his sister said airily. “I’ve just missed you, that’s all.”

“Humph.” Their mother pursed her lips into a disapproving knot. “Your sister has a boyfriend,” she said on a note of disgust.

“Mama!” Isabella rounded on her. “I told you not to tell.”

“Boyfriend,” Vinny repeated, scowling harder. “What the hell do you need a boyfriend for? You’re a student. It’s your job to study, not waste your time on some schmuck.”

“Vinny!” Ophelia elbowed her way forward and threw an arm around her sister-in-law in a show of solidarity. “You can’t tell her when she can or cannot fall in love.” She turned her head to look at Isabella. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“His name is Robert and he’s a philosophy major.”

“Philosophy, hah.” Vinny rolled his eyes. “What’s he gonna do with that degree?”

Bella arched her eyebrows at him. “Go to law school,” she said coolly.

“Oh.” And suddenly Vinny had no more to say on the subject.

“Enough talk,” Mama Rose declared. “Take your suitcase up and come to the kitchen for food.”

“We just had subs on the way up, Mama,” Vinny protested, hefting their shared suitcase and climbing the stairs to his old bedroom. Last Easter was the first time his mother had even let them share a bed. Considering they were finally married—even though she hadn’t been invited—she hadn’t had much choice.

Trailing Vinny into the tiny front room, Ophelia deposited her purse and cosmetics bag. She hadn’t dared to bring her laptop or Vinny would have guessed that she was working on a story. She didn’t need her laptop in any case. All the facts of the case were tucked away in her head. If Vinny had the slightest notion that she was on a deep-sea fishing expedition, angling for a really big prize, he’d have refused his mother’s invitation to Philly and swept her off to some remote island somewhere.

Two hours later, they sat in the narrow kitchen with the sky growing dark outside and Mama Rose stuffing an eight-pound turkey in preparation for tomorrow’s feast. Listening to Bella regale them with stories of campus life, Ophelia waited for the opportunity to finagle time away from Vinny the next morning. She estimated that she would need at least two hours to get downtown, conduct her interview with Lieutenant Governor Rawlings, and get back to the house.

“Let’s watch the Thanksgiving parade tomorrow,” she suggested when Bella’s stories came to an end. The parade was the only good excuse she could think of; unfortunately, it meant involving Bella in her plans. “You know it’s the oldest ongoing parade in the country, right? I’ve never seen it.”

Vinny shot her a considering look. “I’m gonna fix Mama’s washing machine,” he reminded her. They’d discussed it on the way up. He needed time alone with Mama to prod her about her health. She’d been complaining of fatigue and, having battled cancer a decade earlier, he wanted to find out what the doctors were saying.

“Bella and I can go by ourselves. No biggie,” she assured him.

“Yeah, but a parade,” he said reminding her that he deplored large gatherings for the fact that terrorists loved them. “Why don’t you just go to a movie or something?”

“On Thanksgiving morning? The theaters aren’t even open. Besides, a parade will get us in the holiday spirit with the floats, and the drums, and the bands. I can’t wait!”

“Fine,” Vinny conceded. “Just don’t stand by any trash cans or planters.”

Regretting the need to mislead him, she patted his hand consolingly. As much as she hated keeping secrets from her husband, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. He was too protective, too prone to imagine bad things happening to her. This way, she’d conduct her interview and he’d never have to worry.

Later, when she managed to expose Jay Rawlings for the liar that he was, Vinny would realize what she’d done and when she’d done it, only by then it would be too late.

Better to ask forgiveness than permission. That’d been Ophelia’s motto all of her life, and she didn’t see any reason to change things up at this late date.

Vinny stretched out on the length of his childhood bed, his toes hitting the footboard. The double bed felt tiny compared to the king-sized monstrosity they had at home, but he positively loved the coziness of having Ophelia snuggled up against him. Now that they were married, his mother had finally relented and let them share a bed. No more having to sneak Ophelia in after midnight and then get her back into Bella’s room by dawn. “This is so nice,” he purred, sliding his hand up under his wife’s nightshirt and down inside of her panties.

To his confusion, she seemed to stiffen slightly. What was that about? He backed off, smoothing the hourglass outline of her body from her hip to her shoulder. “You doin’ okay, Lia?” he asked calling her by her nickname. Maybe his mama had made some comment that he hadn’t overheard and Lia was gnawing on it, hurting on the inside.

“Yeah, sure,” she said with forced brightness.

He turned his head, seeking her turquoise eyes in the dark. There they were, lit by the glow of the city and the beams of the street lamp slicing through the cracks in the curtains. “My mother didn’t say somethin’ to hurt your feelings, did she?”

“No, not at all. I’m just thinking about the parade tomorrow, looking forward to it.”

“Yeah? Ready to gorge yourself and put some meat on those skinny hips?” he quipped.

The sound she made in her throat told him that his joke sucked.

Besides, her hips weren’t skinny. They were smooth and curvy, and the cool globe of her ass cheek filled his palm to perfection. He fitted his pelvis to hers as he kneaded her backside, letting her feel her effect on him. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” he rasped, sliding his hand up the delicate vertebrae of her spine and rejoicing inwardly as she arched and relaxed into his embrace.

She needed warming up was all. He knew how to do that. Matter of fact, getting Lia all hot and bothered was pretty much what he lived for ever since the day he dragged her to the top of the old lighthouse at Cape Henry. Remembering her astonishment when he’d made her come twice in mere minutes, he applied himself to the challenge of doing it again.

Lia’s hum of pleasure was all the encouragement he needed to toss back the covers, strip off her drawers and replace his hand with his mouth. He nibbled his way to the juncture of her thighs, licking and nipping until she sighed in surrender and spread her legs in a silent plea. Sneaking a peek up the length of her luminous body, he was rewarded by the vision of her nightshirt pulled to her shoulders and her own hands on her breasts. Now that was sexy. He loved her taste, her scent, and her responsiveness. Not a day went by that he didn’t thank God she was his.

Sure, she could be a handful. Sure, she got herself regularly into trouble by butting heads with people in positions of authority and upending the status quo. But, with Lia, there was never a dull moment.

His confidence grew as her skin grew heated. She trembled with excitement under his dancing tongue, her breath coming faster. He backed off intentionally, stoking the embers of her desire by degrees until he finally gave her what she wanted.

He knew the exact moment that her orgasm seized her, and he could only pray that she would stifle her cry of pleasure so his mama and sister couldn’t overhear. She did, biting her lower lip as she rode the storm, then stretching languorously beneath him as he covered her body with his and filled her to the hilt.

Ah, yes. This was home. In her snug, silken warmth, he found his refuge, a place where he could return again and again to encounter bone-deep satisfaction. Wrapping her slim thighs around him, Lia pulled him closer, sought his mouth, and kissed him until he floated in a sea of sensation, their limbs entwined, their bodies merging.

“I love you so much, Vinny,” she confessed between kisses.

She’d been saying that a lot lately. And while he could never hear it enough, the words were beginning to take on a portentous quality. She couldn’t know if something bad was going to happen to either of them, could she? Nah, it was just his paranoid mind playing tricks on him. He pushed the unpleasant thought to the periphery and concentrated on the bliss that was taking his body by storm.

Oh, yeah. Oh, baby. It was like this every time—just too damn good to make holding off a viable option. He let ecstasy geyser through him. Groaning his surcease against her sweet-smelling neck, he acknowledged that he was the luckiest man alive, and nothing was going to change that fact anytime soon, not if he could help it.

“I love you, too, cara mia. Christ, I love you,” he murmured into her ear. And then he promptly fell asleep.

Chapter Two

‡

Ophelia rubbed her hands together briskly, wishing she’d thought to bring gloves. The beat of a bass drum filled her ears, overlaid by the blare of trumpets as a marching band tramped closer. She and Bella had arrived late and still managed to insinuate themselves among the crowd. They stood on the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum, right where the parade ended. As float after float passed them, each one more colorful than the last, Ophelia’s excitement about the upcoming holiday rose. Christmas motifs abounded, lifting her spirits. I’ll tell Vinny about the baby at Christmas, she decided. Wouldn’t that make a nice present!

Now she had a good reason for keeping her secret.

When at last the city council float came into view, marking the end of the parade and decorated with a massive Christmas tree that spired twenty feet into the air, the crowd roared with appreciation. Most of the people in attendance recognized the mayor of Philadelphia, a swarthy Italian whose expressive gestures made him enormously popular. The mayor blew kisses back at the crowd as he accepted their accolades, taking credit for the event that was in its 94th year.

His appearance was Ophelia’s cue to rendezvous with Lt. Governor Jay Rawlings in the office complex adjacent to the museum. They’d arranged for the interview to take place just as the parade disbanded. Rawlings wanted to keep it short. He’d scheduled lunch with the mayor right afterward.

Ophelia leaned toward Bella, who was snapping off pictures with her Nikon camera, and shouted in her ear. “Hey, I forgot to tell you that I’m supposed to interview someone right after this. It’ll take me twenty minutes. Stay right here, and I’ll find you when I’m done.”

Bella’s cherry-colored eyes widened with alarm. “Why can’t I come with you?” she asked. “The parade’s almost over.”

Figuring Bella wouldn’t take no for an answer—those DeInnocentis were so damned stubborn—Ophelia conceded with a shrug and led the way down the museum steps and across the street to an office complex leased by the environmental advocacy group that Rawlings chaired.

As they approached the building number Ophelia was looking for, a man wearing a wool trench coat, his cheeks ruddy from the cold, studied her approach with a hopeful look. “Ophelia Price?” he asked. She had kept her maiden name for the sake of simplicity.

“Yes.” Adopting the demeanor of a top-notch reporter, Ophelia extended a hand. “And you are?”

“Dave Collum. I’m Jay Rawlings’ assistant. He’s expecting you.” His tepid smile faded as his dark eyes shifted toward Bella. “I understood it would only be you.”

“Oh, this is my camera woman,” Ophelia asserted, thinking fast. “With the lieutenant governor’s permission, we’d like to film the interview.”

Collum’s gaze fell to the Nikon camera hanging on a strap around Bella’s neck and he shrugged. “It’s up to him,” he decided, pulling open the door behind him. “Follow me.”

They stepped into a wide, echoing stairwell blessedly warmer than it was outside. Chatting about the weather and the magnificent parade, they climbed marble steps to the second level and stepped into a dark, deserted hallway and through a set of double doors. Ophelia’s gaze lit immediately upon Jay Rawlings, who rolled out of the chair he was lounging in, fixed a plastic-looking smile on his face, and said, “Ah, here she is.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you,” Ophelia apologized, taking a mental snapshot of his overall physique. The lieutenant governor was built like Vinny, only taller. The former Marine claimed the body of a much younger man, with broad shoulders and hewn thighs. While he admitted in his bio to having served in the CIA after his stint in the Marines, he’d never been forthcoming about the type of work he’d done for the Agency.

“Not at all. I just sat down. That was quite a parade, huh?” His astute gray eyes swiveled in Bella’s direction.

Ophelia made introductions. “This is my camera woman, Bella. She’s an intern.”

“I didn’t realize you’d be filming me.” Jay Rawlings smoothed his thinning hair. “I thought this was just a write up for a Virginia paper.”

She’d misled his secretary intentionally. And while Ophelia meant for this interview to be little more than a fishing expedition, filming Rawlings’ reactions to her questions might be just what she needed to convince her boss to grant her exposé extra air time. “Well, no, I work for a news station—WTKR. We’re located in Norfolk with a large military population.”

“I see.” His plastic smile returned as he gestured to the seats behind them. “Should we have a seat or do this standing up?”

“Let’s sit,” Ophelia said, shimmying out of her coat to reveal her striking outfit, one that Vinny hadn’t noticed her leaving in as he’d already been hard at work on the washer in the basement. She tossed her coat over a chair. “Bella, you can stand over there and wait for my cue to start filming.”

Playing right along, Bella moved wordlessly against the wall and fiddled with her camera settings. Ophelia applied herself to putting Jay Rawlings at ease. “Did you bring your family with you?” she inquired. Rawlings’ offices were in Harrisburg, the state capital, an hour away.

“No, they had to stay at home. My son has a bit of a cold.”

“Oh, what a shame,” she lamented. “I bet your little boy would have loved the parade. That Santa Claus was very convincing.”

They chatted for another minute before Ophelia cued Bella with a nod to start filming. “Well, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet me,” she began, crossing her legs and shifting her body to display her cleavage to its best advantage.

“My pleasure,” the lieutenant governor replied, brandishing his false smile. His gaze dipped automatically downward.

She’d worn her sexiest Jones of New York, java-colored wool suit. Tailored to show off her curves, it buttoned just below her breasts, which buoyed over the plunging neckline of her crème silk blouse. Tucking a curl behind one pearl-studded earlobe, she launched into introductions for the viewer and offered up standard questions, which the lieutenant governor answered with practiced ease. He was just beginning to look more confident when she brought up his service in the CIA. “Is it true that you worked for the CIA right after 9/11?”

The split-second pause on his part bespoke of his surprise. “Well, yes. After my service in the Marines, I still wanted to serve my country. 9/11 was a shock to all of us,” he replied.

Another practiced answer, she decided, narrowing in for the kill. “Whatever made you leave the CIA?” she queried.

“Well, I, uh…I decided I could do more for Americans by working in politics.”

“Then your decision had nothing to do with an operation in Basrah that went terribly wrong?”

The glint entering his gimlet eyes had an instant cooling effect on her body as he took a closer look at her, perhaps just now realizing that she wasn’t your average, everyday reporter. He shook his head, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“August of 2002,” Ophelia prompted, laying a hand on her cheek as if searching her memory. “You’d been put in charge of an assassination attempt on Gabir al Baldawi, a radical Islamic leader believed to have dealings with Osama bin Laden. He was supposed to be holed up in a private home on the west side of Basrah. You were working with a small group of Navy SEALs. You raided the building, only al Baldawi wasn’t there, just five or so civilians, including a boy and his mother who ended up dead.”

Jay Rawlings had stiffened with every word coming out of her mouth. “Who told you this?” he growled, fighting to keep his expression pleasant.

Ophelia shrugged. “Like I said, I live in a military community, and that’s the rumor that’s circulating. Can you confirm or deny the story? Maybe you could clarify what went wrong?”

The lieutenant governor’s expression grew subtly harder. “There’s not an ounce of truth to that story. I never headed up an operation like that in Iraq. I don’t know where you get your information, but I’d advise you not to listen to rumors that aren’t true.”

“I see,” Ophelia said, with false sympathy. “So, this is just another attempt to discredit you in the eyes of the public. After all, you’re being considered for the vice presidency.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “It’s amazing what stories the opposition will come up with in the hopes of ruining your reputation.”

“That’s true,” he conceded, seizing on to her excuse. “The opposing party will do whatever it takes to bring me down. I assure you, I have never taken part in any military operation that I wasn’t proud of. Of course, I’m not at liberty to talk about it these days, but my conscience is clear. I don’t believe in keeping secrets.”

“I didn’t think so,” Ophelia said with a reassuring smile. She signaled to Bella to stop filming and uncrossed her legs. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you, sir. I hope we can do it again sometime,” she added, holding out her hand to him. His palm, she thought, felt distinctly clammy as he squeezed her fingers briefly. The next time they spoke, she vowed she would have the proof to call him a liar. Any man that lied about his past had no business becoming the vice president of the United States. “Enjoy your lunch with the mayor,” she added, pushing to her feet.

“Thank you,” Jay Rawlings muttered, following her lead more slowly.

Gesturing with her head for Bella to start for the door, Ophelia retrieved her coat from the chair and threaded her arms quickly through it. “Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, gentlemen,” she said. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

The staff member looked to the lieutenant governor, who nodded his agreement. Obviously, he wanted his man to stay behind so he could talk to him.

Ophelia’s grin broke free as she and Bella stepped into the hall. Bella headed for the stairs, but Ophelia caught her by the arm, shook her head, and dragged her down the hall and around a corner. “Let’s wait here,” she hissed, tucking them both out of sight.

The look Bella shot her reminded her so much of Vinny that she could almost hear him saying, Are you crazy?

“I want to hear what they’re saying on the way out,” Ophelia explained.

“What if they catch us?” Bella’s wide eyes shone with worry.

“We’ll say that you had to use the ladies room.”

“Me?”

“You’re an intern. Interns do stupid things,” Ophelia reasoned.

Bella rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath.

Down the hall, the office door clicked open. Ophelia peeked around the corner and snatched her head back. The lieutenant governor was stepping out of the room with David Collum on his heels, looking distinctly red-faced. Rawlings had taken his wrath out on the hapless man.

“I want to know who’s talking to her.” Jay Rawlings’ distinctive voice echoed down the hallway. “Another one of those goddamn SEALs has broken the code of silence.”

“I thought we already took care of the leak,” his staff member muttered.

“Quiet!” Rawlings grated. “Nobody needs to know about that. Maybe they’re all talking. I don’t know.” Their heels echoed on the stairs, the door clanged shut behind them, and then they were gone.

Ophelia rounded on Bella “Did you hear that?” she cried, resisting the urge to jump for joy. “He just admitted to his involvement. I heard him!” But she had yet to find the proof. That would involve twisting the arms of some of Vinny’s teammates, who had a tendency to clam up whenever she came around.

“We gotta get out of here,” Bella told her with a tremor in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah. In ten minutes, so we know that they’re good and gone.”

Bella turned her eyes toward the ceiling and the discreet, domed camera overhead. “There’s gotta be security in this place, even on holidays,” she agonized aloud. “I can’t afford to get arrested. I’ll be thrown out of school.”

Doubt pricked Ophelia briefly. “You’re the one who insisted on tagging along,” she said, turning the blame back on her sister-in-law. “Fine, we’ll leave right now,” she conceded as Bella started wringing her hands. “The secret is to act like you belong. Shoulders back, head up. Let’s go.”

Together they marched down the hall toward the stairs that the men had taken, but two silhouettes remained visible through the glass inset on the other side of the door. With a gasp, the women retraced their steps.

“Let’s find another way out,” Ophelia suggested, pulling Bella behind her as they searched the maze of hallways for another set of stairs. At the back of the building, they discovered an interior fire exit and took it to the lower level. Ophelia’s gaze alighted on a sign that warned that an alarm would go off if the door were opened, and her confidence wavered.

Bella whirled on her. “Great! What do we do now?”

“We’ll make a run for it,” Ophelia decided. “The streets are crawling with people. Who’s going to see us if we blend into the crowd?”

“Fine,” Bella conceded, but her face paled with worry.

“Listen, we had every right to be in the building, and now we’re leaving,” Ophelia assured her. “It’s no big deal. Come on. Just follow my lead. Act casual.” Throwing her weight into the door, she pulled Bella out into the cold with her. They made a beeline toward the street that was teeming with people. For several seconds, only the sound of voices, traffic, and a flute being played by a homeless woman filled the air. But then the door clicked shut behind them, and a high-pitched wail floated from the building, alerting the world to a breach.

Ophelia snatched up Vinny’s sister’s hand and guided her briskly along with the throng heading toward the Philadelphia Art Museum.

Bella’s fingernails dug into Ophelia’s palm, but no one pursued them. No one shouted, “Hey, wait!”

“See, I told you we’d be fine,” Ophelia said, freeing herself from Bella’s death grip as they picked their way across the steps toward the opposite side of the museum. It was there that they had parked Bella’s car, in the hotel parking garage where her boyfriend worked as a valet.

Bella searched the faces in the crowd before glancing sharply at Ophelia. “Let me guess,” she drawled. “You don’t want Vinny knowing anything about this.”

“Right. And if you tell him,” Ophelia warned, “then I won’t give you the iPad I bought you for Christmas.”

“What?” Bella cried, startling to a halt. “You bought me an iPad?”

Well, she hadn’t done it yet, but she intended to. “Yes.”

“Oh, my God, you are such a great sister-in-law. Crazy but great,” Bella amended, throwing an arm around her as they proceeded to their destination. Her expression grew reflective. “And, by the way, that guy was totally lying about that op, wasn’t he?”

“He admitted it on the way out,” Ophelia reminded her. “Now all I have to do is prove it.”

“You hear that?” Jay Rawlings paused at the point of climbing into his chauffeured Town Car to look up at the high-rise building they’d just come from.

“It sounds like the alarm’s going off,” said his assistant, looking nonplussed.

“Why would the alarm be going off? It never did that before.”

Dave Collum stared back at the building, looking flummoxed.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Jay snapped. “Go shut it off.”

“Sir,” the man protested, turning back to him, “the alarm goes off when the fire door at the back of the building is opened.”

“But that’s impossible. The women left out the front, ahead of us.”

Collum’s eyes widened as he stared over the top of Jay’s car. “Oh, no, they didn’t. Look.” He pointed to the crowd moving across the steps of the art museum. “There she is, right there.”

Jay turned and searched the crowd. Within seconds, he spied the woman’s coppery head as she sought to put distance between herself and the building, flanked by her dark-haired intern. Jay’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. The conniving bitch! She only pretended to empathize with him about the rumor now circulating. She fully believed those rumors. What’s more, she hung around after the interview, hoping to overhear something incriminating. He cast his thoughts back to the words he might have said on his way out.

Oh, Christ, he’d been mentioning the leak he’d already taken care of. He’d even brought up the possibility of another leak.

“Shit,” he hissed. “Don’t take your eyes off her!” Shoving his staff member in the right direction, he leapt into his car. “Follow her on foot and call my cell when you know which way she’s headed. Mason,” he said to his elderly African-American chauffeur, “drive straight ahead, slowly, and await my orders.”

Leaving off his seatbelt to retain a hundred-and-eighty degree visual, Jay gripped the seat in front of him as they eased into traffic. Not thirty seconds later, his cell phone buzzed. “Which way?” he demanded, recognizing his assistant’s number.

“They’re crossing Pennsylvania Avenue, heading toward Fairmount,” Collum relayed, huffing to keep up.

Jay issued Mason the order to hang a right. “Slower,” he added, unnecessarily. The roads were jammed with cars leaving the area. They couldn’t do more than creep forward one yard at a time. “Stay on the line with me,” he ordered Collum. “Don’t fucking let them get away. I want to know where that reporter’s staying.”

“Maybe at the Best Western. She’s headed right toward it. Or, maybe not,” Dave added a minute later. “They’re going into the parking garage.”

Jay raked an eye over the façade of the monstrous hotel in front of him. “Where’s that?”

“Right side of the hotel.” Collum panted into the phone with the effort it took to keep up.

“We’ll wait outside on the street until she exits,” Jay decided. He ordered Mason to pull into a handicapped parking space. Collum would blow it for him if he showed his face. “Don’t let her see you,” he warned into his phone. “If she drives by you, duck behind a car. I’ll be right there to pick you up.”

“Don’t worry, sir. They haven’t seen me yet. Looks like they’re getting into a lime green Escort. You can’t miss them when they pull out.”

“Back off and wait at the opening of the parking garage. We’ll get you on our way by.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jay put his phone away. Blood thrummed through his arteries; a muscle ticked in his cheek. Operation Lights Out had haunted him from the night it totally backfired. He didn’t know if he’d trusted the wrong sources or if the assets he’d courted for six months prior to the operation had betrayed him, but either way, he’d fucked up. Gabir al Baldawi hadn’t been in the apartment building surrounded by his closest advisors. Instead the place had been occupied by nothing but civilians. In his outrage he’d shot some kid who wouldn’t stop wailing. The bullet had gone straight through him killing his mother, too—so what? Shit happened. He’d talked the SEALs he’d worked with into reporting the incident as an accident—either that or it’d be his word against theirs. They’d only agreed to keep silent if he agreed to leave the Agency.

He’d done what they wanted, so why the hell were they betraying him now? Jealousy, no doubt. Maybe they didn’t want him being their vice president one day.

The vision of a lime green Escort snapped him out of his cold sweat. “Follow that car, Mason,” he said, pointing it out.

As his chauffeur pulled away from the curb, Jay spared a glance at Collum, who stood near the parking garage expecting to be picked up. “Leave him,” Jay ordered as the Escort gained speed, threatening to slip out of sight. Ignoring Collum’s look of dismay, Jay focused his attention on keeping the smaller car in sight.

Two intersections away, the women’s car bore right on Arch Street and disappeared. “Drive faster,” he bit out. They turned the corner just in time to see the Escort veering toward South Broad. When they caught sight of it again, it was turning left onto Christian Street, making its way into the old, Italian neighborhood of Bella Vista.

A block ahead of them, it parallel parked in front of a series of row homes. “Pull over,” Jay hissed at Mason. “Don’t let them see us.”

Mason swung the front of the Town Car into the nearest alley, leaving the back end sticking out. Jay craned his neck and watched the two women get out of their vehicle and hurry into the one brick house that had been painted pale yellow. He waited another five minutes to see if they would emerge again. When they didn’t, he instructed Mason to drive past the house.

The number on the door made it easy to find again—769. Now he knew where the reporter was staying.

“Sorry for the detour, Mason,” he apologized, sitting back in his seat. “We can return for Collum now.”

With his jaw muscles jumping, Jay considered what to do about the journalist. If he let her live, she could ruin his bid for the vice presidency. He would have to silence her the way he’d silenced the first Navy SEAL to betray him. And what about the intern? She would have to disappear, as well. He winced at the financial implication. Getting rid of people in ways that couldn’t be traced back to him cost a lot of money. Damn it!

As they slowed at a stop sign, Jay roused from his dark thoughts and glanced at his watch. “Aw, hell,” he growled. “Now I’m late for lunch with the mayor!”

Chapter Three

‡

Vinny stepped out of the basement, intent on washing up for the Thanksgiving meal when the words “former Navy SEAL” had him turning toward the tiny television perched on one end of the counter. Ophelia, Bella, and his mother heard it, too. The kitchen, which had been bustling with activity resulting in the mixed aromas of roasting turkey, boiling potatoes, and simmering cranberries, fell quiet as they all turned to hear the news story.

“…The rash of break-ins attributed to a gang of teens resulted in his death. John Staskiewicz left the Navy SEALs six years ago, returning to Fishtown, the neighborhood he grew up in.” The photograph of a handsome man in fatigues appeared on the upper right side of the screen. “This is the first time that the break-ins have resulted in murder. Staskiewicz was shot in the head while sleeping. Anyone with information pertaining to his death is requested to call the police. Back to you, Chris.”

As the anchorman moved on to a new topic, Ophelia turned three quarters to send Vinny a searching look. “Did you know him, honey?” she asked, probably noticing his incredulity.

He shook his head. “No, not personally.” But he could have sworn he’d just seen that distinct name written somewhere. And then it came to him. It’d been scribbled onto one corner of a rectangular brown box sitting on the corner of his commander’s desk. He’d seen it there two days ago when he’d dropped by to pick up his letter of recommendation for medical school. Having a photographic memory, Vinny was confident that the name was the same. And now the man was dead. But if the police thought some young petty thieves had shot a trained Navy SEAL in his sleep, they were seriously misled. He filed the incident away in his head to discuss with his commander later.

“Food’s almost ready, figlio. Go wash.” His mama shooed him out of the kitchen.

Ophelia trailed him into the empty hallway. “Did you manage to fix it?” she asked about the washing machine.

“Not yet.” He made a face and showed her the grease under his nails. “I gotta get a new part tomorrow when the stores reopen, but at least I know what’s wrong with it.” He massaged the kink he’d gotten in his neck from craning to see up inside the bowels of the old appliance. “It needs a new tub bearing. Then the cylinder won’t wobble like it’s demon-possessed.”

“You’re so clever,” Ophelia praised. Stepping closer, she whispered, “Did she confide in you about her health?”

Fixing the machine had been easy. Getting his mother to admit that she needed to see a doctor wasn’t. Vinny grimaced. “Not really. She said she was afraid the doc would tell her the cancer was back.” His chest tightened at the possibility. “I made her promise to make an appointment next week. How was the parade?”

“Great,” she said a tad too brightly.

Something about the way she said it roused the suspicion that she was hiding something, but he couldn’t imagine what. “Okay,” he said searching her turquoise eyes for clues.

But she turned away, going back to help his mama before he could query her further. With a shrug, Vinny hurried upstairs to shower and change.

By the time he rejoined the women, the kitchen table had been set with a lace tablecloth and his mama’s finest china. The food lay along the counter like a buffet.

“Cut the turkey, figlio,” Mama ordered. “S’time to eat!”

Vinny obliged, slicing up the turkey with a knife in bad need of sharpening. Mama led them in a blessing and then they piled their plates with food and sat down to enjoy it.

Mama Rose sent a critical look at Lia’s plate. “That’s all you eat?” she demanded.

Lia looked down at her plate and up at Vinny. She had loaded up on green beans and white meat, the kind of lean foods she usually ate to keep her figure trim for the cameras.

“She’ll get seconds, Mama,” he assured her. “Have some cranberry sauce on your meat,” he suggested, passing Lia the cut glass relish plate.

Lia took the plate with an inscrutable expression, dished up a spoonful of sauce and plopped it next to her meat.

“Potatoes,” Mama insisted, frowning critically at her daughter-in-law. “How you supposed to make babies when you so skinny?”

“Mama,” Vinny interjected on a warning note.

“I’ll eat her portion of the potatoes,” Bella offered. “And her portion of pie, too.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Lia surprised them all by leaping to her feet and spooning a heaping mound of mashed potatoes onto her plate, then dousing it with gravy. Vinny held his breath as she retook her seat. Was she playing games? he wondered. Calling his mama’s bluff?

To his surprise, she proceeded to eat every last bit of food on her plate. She even ate a bite of his pumpkin pie.

An hour later, they lay across his bed, too replete to do anything but rest for a while. Lia lay with her head on Vinny’s chest, talking on her cell phone to her sister, and then to her three-year-old nephew, Ryan.

“Is Joe there?” Vinny asked, wanting to speak to his commander. With a curious glance at him, she asked Penny if she could put Joe on the phone, and then she relinquished her phone to her husband.

“Happy Thanksgiving, sir,” Vinny greeted his commander and brother-in-law with mixed familiarity and formality. “How’s it goin’?”

“Very well. And you?”

“Excellent, sir. My mama outdid herself this year.”

“So did Penny. We’ve got my folks visiting.”

“That’s what I heard.” He decided to cut to the chase. “Actually, I have a question for you. Did you ever know a SEAL named John Staskiewicz?”

The silence on Joe’s end supplied an answer even before Joe confirmed it. “Yes, we served on Team Three together. Why do you ask?”

“You know he’s dead, right?”

“What?”

Joe’s outburst betrayed shock. “I’m sorry,” Vinny apologized. “I just heard it on the news. He was supposedly killed by some teenaged thugs who’ve been breaking into houses, but I think that’s bullshit.” Realizing that his wife was listening avidly to their conversation, Vinny transferred the cell phone to his other ear to mute Joe’s side of the conversation.

“When was this?” Joe asked him, sounding more concerned by the second.

“Just last night, I’m guessing,” Vinny replied. “I saw his name on that box on your desk.”

His commander heaved a sigh. “Listen, Vinny.” Vinny could hear him withdrawing to a private area of his house. “What I’m about to tell you stays between the two of us. Can Lia overhear us?”

Vinny glanced down at Lia to assess how much she was hearing. She’d closed her eyes with her head on his chest, pretending to doze, but he could tell that she was straining her ears to hear, though he was fairly sure she couldn’t. “No, sir.”

“John and I worked together about ten years ago, along with Senior Chief McGuire and Chief Harlan. I was their OIC in a firing squad sent to Basrah to eliminate a high-profile terrorist. We worked under the direction of a CIA case officer, who must have gotten his intelligence wrong because the target wasn’t in the building we hit, just a bunch of families, mostly women and kids. One kid wouldn’t stop crying and the case officer wigged out and shot him. The bullet pierced the kid and killed the mother, too.”

“Jesus!” Vinny exclaimed with disgust for the man’s brutality. If Lia hadn’t been listening intently earlier, he knew she certainly was now.

“Then he threatened to turn the tables on us if we reported him, so we made him a deal. We’d write off the incident as an accident if he promised to leave the Agency. We thought that would be the end of it. But then he went into politics. He’s the lieutenant governor of Pennsylvania now, Jay Rawlings.”

“No shit,” Vinny breathed.

“And he’s on his way to becoming the vice president. When John realized that fact, he decided to go back on his word and write an exposé. Now you’re telling me John’s dead.”

It was Vinny’s turn to be shocked into silence. It looked like the SEAL had been murdered—not by teenaged thugs but by a powerful politician determined to safeguard his reputation. “So, what are you going to do with that box, sir?” he finally asked, careful not to mention John’s name, lest Lia put two and two together.

“I think I need to turn it into NCIS and let them investigate. Thanks for telling me about John. I think I’ll make some phone calls now to find out when his funeral’s taking place and where. I’d like to attend it.”

“Well, keep me posted if it’s somewhere in the area.”

“I’ll do that, Vinny. Thanks for the phone call.”

“I’m sorry about the news, sir.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty sobering. I’ll see you soon, Vinny.”

“Have a good evening, sir.”

No sooner had Vinny hung up than Lia’s head popped up. She propped a hand under her chin and searched his gaze avidly. “How well did he know him?” she inquired.

Vinny pretended ignorance. “Know who?”

“The SEAL who was killed, of course. Did they work together?”

Vinny shrugged. “He said he’d worked with the guy back in Iraq.”

“Hmm.” She didn’t look too surprised to hear it. With only 2,500 active duty SEALs worldwide, most SEALs had at least heard of each other. “But he hadn’t been informed of this Stasky-guy’s murder,” she accurately guessed. “Did he mention if he had any enemies?”

“Staskiewicz,” Vinny corrected.

She frowned at him. “Don’t change the subject. What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded.

He heaved an exasperated sigh and closed his eyes. “You know I can’t talk about certain stuff,” he admonished.

“But this is a civilian matter,” she reasoned, “because Staskiewicz retired from the teams, and then he was killed. The only reason why you couldn’t talk about his death was if it related in some way to—Oh.” She eyed him with dawning comprehension. “Joe thinks his death is related to the work he did in the Navy.”

“I’m not sayin’ if he does or doesn’t,” Vinny insisted.

“I’ll torture you,” Ophelia threatened, pinching the lean flesh of his abdomen.

“You can’t break me,” Vinny replied with confidence. “I’ve been trained to resist interrogation.”

She nonetheless gave it her best shot, going up on her knees to tickle him mercilessly. He bore her attack for as long as he could stand it, then captured her wrists, flipped her onto her back, and rolled up and over her.

“Oh,” she moaned, the color draining from her face. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

He immediately eased his weight off her, watching with worried eyes as she rolled toward the edge of the bed and covered her mouth. “I’ll get a trash can,” he volunteered, springing from the bed to find it.

“No, I’m okay,” she assured him. Breathing in through her nose and out of her mouth, she sat up slowly. “I just think I ate too much.”

“You didn’t have to do that just to please Mama.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes and gnawed a moment on her lower lip, making him think that she might say something more on the subject of his mama’s overbearing attitude. “I think I’ll take a nap,” she said, instead. “All that turkey made me sleepy.”

“Sounds good to me.” He flopped back down on the bed and gathered her against him.

“You sure you won’t tell me what Joe said?” she asked, nuzzling his neck in a last-ditch effort to break him.

“You’re relentless,” he noted without rancor. “Listen,” he added, changing the subject before she could sink her claws into him, “I’m gonna put that new part in Mama’s washing machine tomorrow morning, and then I think we should head home early to beat the traffic. That okay with you?”

“Sure.” She settled herself more comfortably. “But I promised I’d take Bella to Macy’s tomorrow, so I have to go shopping first. Their Black Friday sales are out of this world.”

“Sounds okay,” he agreed. “Just remember this city is bigger than what you’re used to. You know how easily you get lost.”

“Macy’s is a mile and a half away, and Bella will be with me. I can’t possibly get lost,” she mumbled.

“Keep your phone on, all the same. That way I can find you.”

“Stalker,” she slurred sleepily. In the next instant, she issued a soft snore.

*

“Robert has the day off,” Bella relayed, having just checked the texts on her cell phone. She clutched the phone with a dejected look.

Ophelia was about to pull her Kia Soul away from the curb at Mama Rose’s. With the heater in Bella’s Escort on the fritz, she’d elected to drive her own car. Bella’s regret-filled tone had her shooting her sister-in-law a sideways glance. “You want to cancel our shopping trip so you can be with him?” she asked, hesitating.

“No, that’s okay. Vinny wouldn’t want me ditching you.”

“Hmm.” Considering her options, Ophelia proceeded to pull out, speeding them in the direction of Macy’s. The drooping corners of Bella’s wide mouth made her recall how desperately she had longed to spend time with Vinny back when they were dating. “Well, what if Vinny never found out?” she proposed, arching an eyebrow at her sister-in-law as she neared an intersection.

Bella’s dejection evaporated. “What do you mean?” Her eyes brightened hopefully.

Ophelia slowed at the intersection, looked both ways, and gunned straight through it before realizing she had run a stop sign—again. But then the car behind her did the same thing, making her feel a little less remorse. She was supposed to be turning over a new leaf for the baby.

“How about I drop you off somewhere close to Macy’s?” she suggested. “Robert can meet you there, and you two can hang out while I shop. Then I’ll pick you up again on my way home. Vinny will assume we spent the morning together.” With an impulse to browse the maternity section, she had good reason for wanting to shop alone. “We won’t even have to lie to him.”

“Well, there’s a Starbucks right across the street from Macy’s,” Bella considered out loud. “Maybe Robert and I could hang out there.”

“Perfect,” Ophelia agreed, darting a dirty look at the car that was riding her rear bumper. “I turn right here, don’t I?” she asked as she neared a stoplight.

“Either here or the next light. Are you sure about this?” Bella sent her a searching look. “I don’t want you to feel neglected or anything.”

“Sure I’m sure. I remember what it’s like to be in love.” She waggled her eyebrows at her sister-in-law.

“That’s because you and Vinny are still in love,” Bella pointed out.

Ophelia smiled a dreamy smile. “True,” she mused. Seeing the next light about to turn red, she slowed down instead of speeding up, and the car dogging her nearly plowed into her back end. Watch it, asshole, she almost yelled, but then she remembered that she’d met Vinny by crashing into the back of his Honda. It wasn’t that long ago that she would have done the same thing.

Should she have told him about the baby last night? she agonized. Or was it better to guard her secret just a little longer and surprise him on Christmas morning as she’d planned?

“There’s the Starbucks on the right.” Unaware of Ophelia’s private thoughts, Bella pointed to the familiar green sign looming over the sidewalk up ahead. “You can look for parking in the lot farther up Market Street. If that lot’s full, go around Macy’s and you’ll see a Wannamaker parking lot. There ought to be some spaces left in there.”

“I’ll find something,” Ophelia assured her, slowing next to the curb. “Out you go. Say hi to Robert for me.”

“Okay. Call me when you’re almost finished, and I’ll meet you somewhere. You have my number, right?” Bella leapt out.

“I’ve got it.” She stuck a hand out the window, waving for the driver behind her to go around, but he would rather beep his horn than change lanes. Bella shut the passenger door, and Ophelia swung back into her lane, punching the accelerator.

As Bella watched her sister-in-law veer into the nearest parking lot, a belated sense of uncertainty pricked her. The driver who’d beeped his horn so rudely still followed right on Ophelia’s bumper. Black Friday sales in Center City would make it hard to find parking. Lia, who had an abysmal sense of direction, could probably use her help finding the other lot. All the same, she dialed Robert’s number and held her phone up to her ear.

“Hey, Bella.” His beloved voice distracted her from her private concerns.

“Hey, guess what? I have a couple of free hours,” she admitted, grinning at the prospect of spending time together. “Can you meet me at Starbucks in Center City?”

“Sure,” he said. “Bet I can make it there in under twenty minutes.”

“I’ll time you.” With a light step, Bella turned and waltzed into the café looking forward to his arrival.

Lia couldn’t find a parking spot to save her life.

The same aggressive driver dogged her every move as she circled the lot on Market Street. After three unsuccessful tours of the full lot, she gave up and left in search of the Wannamaker lot. It was right where Bella had described it. At the back of that lot, still tailed by the other car, she spied a tiny space that had gone overlooked due to the oversized SUV’s on either side hemming it in. Careful not to clip her mirrors, she swung her Kia Soul into the aperture, claiming it before the other driver could wrest it away.

“Hah,” she exclaimed, turning off her engine. A glance in her rearview showed no sign of the other driver. “I win.” Snatching her purse off the floor, she verified that her phone was turned on, her ringer set on high, and then she pushed out of her car intent on some serious shopping. A thumb swipe on the exterior handle locked her car up tight. She turned toward the exit for the short hike to Macy’s.

She hadn’t taken three steps when she collided with a swarthy, barrel-chested man rounding the SUV parked to her left. “Oops. Sorry.” Oh, God, it was the angry driver who’d been tailing her. He was probably going to chew her out for stealing the space.

To her astonishment, he threw his burly arms around her, whipped her back to front against his barrel chest, and jabbed something sharp into her upper arm, straight through the material of her lightweight coat.

Ophelia gasped in horror. The burning pinch of a needle made her realize she’d been injected. Sure enough, she looked down and saw a syringe in the man’s hand. Seizing her purse from her limp grasp, he began dragging her back toward her car, her heels scraping over the concrete.

I’m being abducted! The realization preceded a humming in her ears. Darkness hovered at the fringes of her field of sight. She fought its encroachment, keeping her eyes wide open. Removing his hand from her mouth, the stranger unlocked her vehicle using the remote key in her purse to give him access.

Scream! Ophelia commanded herself, but her head lolled, suddenly too heavy to hold up, and a mere whimper vibrated her voice box.

With a dark snow falling before her eyes, she felt herself being lowered across the rear seat of her car. The man grunted, sliding her up until he could shove her feet inside the car and shut the door. Ophelia lay on her side, one foot on the seat, the other on the floor. Stay awake! she ordered herself.

The part of her brain still capable of functioning came to a bone-chilling conclusion. This wasn’t some random abduction. This had to do with her interview with Rawlings yesterday—she just knew it.

He’s going to kill me!

The startling insight preceded utter darkness. Vinny! Her heart cried out in remorse. She ought to have told him the truth—not just the truth about her interview with Rawlings but also the truth about their baby. Now, he would never guess what had become of her, unless Bella told him. Oh, Bella, please tell Vinny. Tell him everything!

Chapter Four

‡

Bella consulted her android, only to frown at the empty display. It was 12:15 P.M., and Ophelia had yet to call her. They’d promised Vinny that they’d be home by noon. At this rate, they would arrive home late, giving Vinny cause to worry for no reason.

“I’d better call her,” she said to Robert, whose grimace told of his disappointment that their time together was dwindling to a close. Dialing Lia’s number, Bella frowned when Lia’s voice mail answered in lieu of a ring. A frisson of concern had her finishing her second cup of coffee in one big gulp. “Something’s wrong. Her phone’s not even turned on.”

Robert gave a negligent shrug. “She’s probably listening to the organ recital. Maybe they ask people to turn their phones off.”

“Doubtful.” Macy’s giant organ, the largest functioning pipe organ in the world, gave a thunderous Christmas recital every two hours during the holiday season. A ringing cell phone wouldn’t begin to disturb the sonorous performance. Bella’s phone buzzed and she immediately snatched it up, only to cringe as she recognized Vinny’s number. “Hello?”

“Yo, where are you girls? You said you’d be home by noon. Mama’s got lunch ready.”

“Uh…” Dread put a cold spot on the top of Bella’s head. “I’m not actually with Lia right now,” she carefully admitted.

“What?” His confusion elicited a pinch of guilt.

“She…she said I could go to Starbucks while she finished her shopping, and I haven’t heard from her since.” The silence on Vinny’s end had her holding her breath.

“When’s the last time you actually saw her?” he demanded, apparently seeing straight through her prevarications.

“When she turned into the parking lot next to Starbucks,” Bella confessed, tucking her chin in shame.

“Then you never actually saw her get out of her car?”

“No.”

“Have you tried calling her at all? Has she answered her phone for you?”

“All I get is her voice mail. Maybe her battery died.”

“She charged it all night. You were supposed to stay together,” he added on a scolding note.

“Well, she’s got Friend Finder on her phone. Can’t we find her that way?”

“The app doesn’t work when her phone’s turned off. It put her last location at the Wannamaker parking lot.”

At least that made sense. “She’s bound to be here somewhere.”

“Tell me you left your keys for the Escort here at the house,” Vinny demanded.

“They’re on my dresser,” she told him.

“Good. I’m coming to pick you up. Wait right inside the door at Starbucks and keep trying Lia’s number. Let me know if you get through to her.”

“Okay.” She ended the call and met Robert’s worried blue stare. “You’d better disappear,” she warned. “My brother’s on his way and you don’t want to meet him right now.”

Robert looked puzzled. “Does his wife do this often?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so. But I have a bad feeling about this.” For some reason, her thoughts kept circling back to Lia’s interview with Rawlings yesterday. If that man harbored a secret he thought Lia might reveal—a secret that could cost him the vice presidency—wouldn’t he take measures to try and stop her? “You’d better go, Robert.” She slipped off her stool, pecked his cheek, and went to wait by the door.

Out the corner of her eye, she could see Robert studying her in the same protective way that Vinny watched her. She dialed Lia’s number again, to the same result. When her Escort drew alongside the building minutes later, she sent Robert an apologetic wave, dashed outside and slipped into the passenger seat.

The set of Vinny’s jaw warned her not to speak unless spoken to. He wordlessly peeled out, turned left at the next intersection and headed for the Wannamaker parking lot. They circled it twice, keeping a sharp eye out for Lia’s Kia Soul. It wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Vinny braked next to the parking attendant’s little hut. “Excuse me,” he called through his lowered window. “Do you remember an orange Kia Soul entering or leaving this lot in the last couple of hours?”

“Uh, yeah actually.” A young man with a bad case of acne leaned out of his window. “Some guy followed her in here. I figured it had to be her husband cause he drove off with her car and left his here.”

“I’m her husband,” Vinny snarled at the young man. “Show me where this guy’s car is. What did he look like?”

A minute later, Vinny was walking around an ugly, beat up Volvo, memorizing every detail about it, and bending to inspect the plates. Bella hugged herself in her seat trying to quell the tremors that had started radiating from her belly. Vinny was calmer than she thought he would be. Being a SEAL must have taught him to control his Italian temper, but she would almost prefer to see him yelling and pitching a fit than looking gray around the gills, his eyes dark with confusion. What, did he think, even for one moment, that Ophelia had run off with another man?

“He switched the plates,” Vinny volunteered, sliding back behind the wheel and gesturing to the back of the ugly sedan. He pulled out his cell phone.

Bella’s gaze flew back to the plates on the Volvo. I XPOZ U. Now, why hadn’t she noticed that? “Vinny, I have to tell you something,” she volunteered, a shiver running up her spine.

At the verge of placing a call, he cast her a distracted glance. “What?”

“I might know who’s behind this.”

His dark pupils seemed to expand as they focused on her. She had his full attention now. “Talk,” he ordered with so much intensity that she had to swallow to find her voice.

With their car fogging up as it idled in the parking lot, she relayed the story of their interview of Rawlings the day before. The words tumbling out of Bella’s mouth made Vinny more tense than ever. When she mentioned Rawlings’ name, he turned as white as a sheet.

“Oh, Jesus,” he moaned when she told him how they’d hidden in the office building and how they’d overheard Rawlings’ assistant say that they’d taken care of the leak. “I filmed the whole interview. I have it at home on my camera,” she added.

Vinny scrubbed a hand over his face. She thought he might call 9-1-1 as soon as he recovered or drive like a bat out of hell to their mother’s house. Instead, he accessed his contacts on his phone and placed a call. “Sir,” he croaked in a voice that radiated alarm. “Tell me you didn’t give the book to NCIS yet,” he pleaded.

Bella had no idea what book he was talking about.

“She interviewed him yesterday,” he blurted, relaying what she’d just told him to someone she figured he worked with. “And now she’s missing—gone. Some guy grabbed her in a parking lot a couple of hours ago while she was out shopping. He took off with her in her car, but her phone’s turned off, so I can’t find her.”

Vinny couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. He had to be dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time the risks Ophelia took left him bathing in a cold sweat. But if this was a dream, he wasn’t able to rouse from it.

His CO’s voice seemed to be coming at him from a great distance. “Call the police,” Joe Montgomery urged, his calm, implacable voice helping to steady Vinny’s thudding heart. “Tell them Lia’s missing. Have them put out an APB on her vehicle and look for evidence, but don’t tell them your suspicions about Rawlings or he’ll find out that we’re on to him. I was planning to fly up there for Staskiewicz’s funeral tomorrow,” Joe added, “but now I’ll grab the first hop out of here, bringing Senior Chief McGuire and Chief Harlan with me. We’ll come straight to you. In the meantime, I have an idea that should keep Rawlings from hurting Ophelia. I’ll text you his response as soon as I get it.”

“Thank you, sir.” The phone clicked in his ear. In his shock, it took Vinny a second to recollect what to do next. With fingers that shook, he dialed 9-1-1.

Oh, God, Ophelia. Where are you?

To an apathetic operator, he reported Lia’s abduction, said he would wait in the Wannamaker parking lot for the cops to come, and hung up.

Too overwrought to do anything but stare up at the overcast sky, it occurred to him that his whole world was falling apart, and he was helpless to do anything about it. The sound of Bella stifling a sob wrested him from his self-absorption.

“This is all my fault!” his sister wailed, burying her face into her hands.

He palmed the back of her head and pulled it toward his chest to give and receive a much-needed hug. “It’s not your fault,” he assured her while realizing that Bella might have been kidnapped, too, if the women hadn’t gone their separate ways.

Hell, if anyone was to blame, it was Ophelia herself for refusing to recognize when she was out of her league. Exposing corruption was almost every bit as dangerous as killing or capturing terrorists. But whereas Vinny claimed the advantage of training and teammates, Ophelia worked utterly alone. Even when she ought to have told her husband what she was up to, she kept it to herself for fear that he would interfere.

Damn right he would have interfered. What the hell had she been thinking trying to pull Jay Rawlings off the pedestal he’d built for himself? Powerful men did not take lightly to having the skeletons pulled from their closets. Just look at what had happened to Staskiewicz. But then she probably hadn’t made that connection between Rawlings and the former SEAL. He couldn’t begin to wonder what was happening in her head right now. She had to be terrified…

He slammed a lid down on the errant thought that she might not even be alive. Of course she was alive. And if he and his commander had any say so, she was going to stay alive.

And if Rawlings dared to silence the wife of a Navy SEAL, then he would soon wish that he was dead.

*

“You have a personal call on line three, sir.” The voice of Jay Rawlings secretary and lunchtime playmate purred over the intercom on Jay’s office phone in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

Personal call? Working his way through proposed legislative revisions, Jay tore himself from the tome before him. His heart gave a funny flip as he considered whether the call might have anything to do with Ophelia Price’s disappearance—of course not. No one would have connected him to her abduction, and Collum would have called his cell phone, as he’d done earlier to report that only Miss Price had been abducted. She and her intern had split up, forcing their hit man to pursue just Miss Price. He would have to go back for the intern later.

“This is Jay Rawlings,” he said, shaking off his prickle of concern and answering the call.

“Jay, this is a blast from the past. Joe Montgomery here. We worked together in Iraq when I was with SEAL Team Three. You knew me as Monty, remember?”

However friendly-sounding, the baritone voice of the golden haired lieutenant who’d followed his orders in Operation Lights Out doused Jay in an icy shock. “Monty,” he stammered, finding with difficulty his usual glib tongue. “How the hell are you?”

“Well, I’ve been better, Jay. Don’t know if you heard about it, but one of the guys in our old squad was murdered just down the road from you, in Philly—John Staskiewicz. Remember him?”

“Sure, I remember John. I hadn’t heard that news. How awful. What happened?”

“Some thugs broke into his house and caught him off guard.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, I’m on my way to his funeral. It’s up in your neck of the woods. Now that you know, maybe I’ll run into you there.”

“Oh, well, I’ll have to think about it. Awfully nice of you to pay your respects, though. I take it you and John have stayed in touch?” Christ, had all the SEALs collaborated against him and not just John? Was that how Ophelia Price had come to hear the rumors she’d mentioned? The phone went slippery in his sweating hand.

“No, not really,” Monty said, leaving Jay weak with relief. “But, you know, we’re a tight-knit community, which is probably why John left me this book that he’d written. I’m not sure what to do with it.”

The blood in Jay’s veins turned to ice as his greatest fears took fearsome form. That exposé that John Staskiewicz had threatened to write if Jay became the lieutenant governor must have made it farther than his computer, stolen and destroyed the night he’d been killed. Jay hadn’t taken precautions soon enough. “Oh?” he said, his voice cracking.

“It’s all about that op that went bad, Operation Lights Out,” Joe added, confirming Jay’s guess. “He described you as a cold-blooded killer, Jay. You know we SEALs take the code of silence fairly seriously, but John didn’t care much for your politics. It’s pretty clear he intended for his book to halt your ascent up the political ladder.”

Jay swallowed against his dry throat. “What are you going to do with it?” he croaked.

“Well, that depends.” Monty’s answer made his heart thud uncertainly. “As it turns out, you’ve got something I need. Maybe we can come to an agreement.”

“What have I got?” Jay swam in a cold sweat. The smooth talking SOB dared to blackmail him?

“The journalist, Ophelia Price. I’ll give you the manuscript in exchange for her safe return.”

“I’ve never heard of her.” Jay pretended bafflement, even as the walls of his office seemed to shimmer like sand in the desert. How the hell had Monty put two and two together so quickly? Obviously the four-man firing squad he’d directed in Iraq had kept in touch all these years. What’s more, they’d planned to expose him all along, involving the journalist to help them publicize their allegations.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Monty insisted. “Unfortunately, what you didn’t know when you arranged to make her disappear, is that Ophelia Price is my sister-in-law.”

“What?” Jay clapped a hand to his damp forehead.

“And as much as I’d like to honor John’s memory by seeing his book published and your career go up in smoke, my wife would throw me out if I didn’t get her sister back safe and sound. So here’s the deal, Jay…”

With the phone clasped to his ear, Jay stared dazedly out the window praying for an acceptable ultimatum.

“You show up at John’s funeral with Ophelia Price safely ensconced in your car; I’ll show up with the manuscript, and we’ll do a trade. How’s that? You get to salvage your career, and I get to salvage my marriage. Fair enough?”

Jay gave one more stab at protesting his innocence. “I don’t know what in hell you’re talking about,” he growled.

“Well, in that case, you leave me no choice. I’ll make copies of the manuscript right now and mail them to The New York Times and The Washington Post. You’ll be dead in the water by this time tomorrow. When Ophelia’s body is found, you’ll be faced with the death penalty, which I understand you supported in your bid for lieutenant governor. Good talking to you, Jay.”

“Wait!” Jay blurted the word before he’d made a decision as to what to say, what to do. “How do I know you haven’t made a copy of the book already, or that you won’t expose me later?”

“Gee, I hadn’t thought of that,” Monty said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “I guess you don’t know. Either your career goes up in flames today or sometime further down the road. I’d guess the timeline’s up to you. You have my number,” the man noted. “Call me if you change your mind.”

Pride kept Jay mute. He flinched as the phone clicked in his ear, signaling an end to the call. Numb with shock, he lowered his arm until the receiver clattered into the cradle.

His knees jittered as he stood staring at the gray sky outside. What do I do? There had to be a way to keep the past from haunting him, some way to alter records so that the exposé, if published, would look falsified. Jay still had friends in the CIA. Maybe one of them, with the right inducement, could hack into the mission files and alter the details, making Staskiewicz’s allegations look like big fat lies, even if three other SEALs elected to corroborate them. But until Jay found an ally in the Agency willing to help him out, he had to get his hands on the manuscript before Monty sent it to the press.

With a shaking finger, he stabbed the intercom button. “Michelle,” he rasped. “Get the last caller back on the phone with me, will you?”

“Of course. Just a minute, sir.”

Brutally efficient, she got back to him in half that time. “Sir, I have Commander Montgomery on line one for you.”

Jay snatched up the phone, hit line one, and with a bracing breath stated, “I’ll see you at the funeral.” With that, he hung up and lunged for his cell phone. His hands were shaking too badly for him to text David Collum, so he called him instead.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“What?”

“Call Fernando and tell him not to dispose of the package as planned. I need him to bring it to Philly on Saturday and hand it back to you.”

“To me, sir?”

“Shut up and listen. Have him meet you at the usual spot at 8 A.M. Then bring the package to my Philadelphia apartment. I want it back in one piece with no marks on it, understand?”

“I guess.” Collum sounded utterly confounded.

Jay ended the call. He could care less what Collum thought. For several minutes all he could do was to stand in one spot overcome by doubts. The jangling of his cell phone made him jump. “What?” Jay snapped, recognizing his assistant’s number.

“He says his price is the same whether he brings it back or not. I said I would check with you first.”

Jay ground his molars together. The same? Ten thousand dollars was a helluva fee for babysitting. But what choice did he have. He needed that manuscript. “Fine,” he spat. “But only if the package is in pristine condition. And he can’t be late.”

“I’ll tell him,” Collum promised.

With a growl of rage, Jay hung up and hurled his cell phone across the room where it landed, by luck, on an armchair, bouncing harmlessly onto the Turkish carpet. Would this nightmare never end?

Air Force bombers dropped bombs on the enemy population and never got in trouble for it. So why should his knee-jerk action prevent him from attaining the vice presidency? It shouldn’t. But silencing Ophelia Price the way he’d silenced Staskiewicz wouldn’t keep the news of his actions out of the public eye, not anymore.

He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he would have to find some other way to protect his reputation.

*

The sound of a rough male voice roused Ophelia from a drug-induced sleep. By sheer force of will, she slit her impossibly heavy eyelids, managing to glimpse the dark head of her abductor in the driver’s seat before her eyelids slammed shut.

The man had been holding a cell phone to his ear. She could hear him talking. “My price is the same,” he insisted, speaking with a Spanish accent.

His price. He was discussing his fee for disposing of her. Oh, God. I’m going to die.

A stifled whimper escaped Ophelia’s unresponsive lips. The car seemed to lurch at the tiny sound she made. Fear gave her the strength to peer through her lashes again. This time she could see the driver angling his rear view mirror to look back at her, ascertaining whether she was surfacing from her sleep. She quickly shut her eyes again, playing possum.

How will he kill me? Quickly and painlessly, she hoped. Or would he torture her first to elicit the names of her sources? Of course, Rawlings already knew who the other SEALs were in Operation Lights Out, but he might wish to know if others knew. What could she say? She’d gotten her information by eavesdropping at her sister’s Halloween party, where Joe and his senior chief had been reminiscing about past operations, not knowing that Ophelia lurked just around the corner, her ears pricked in hopes of hearing a juicy story.

As long as he doesn’t name us in his book, John can say whatever he wants to, Joe had been pointing out. What’s he got to lose now that he’s retired?

True. And someone had better drag Rawlings off his mountain before he climbs any higher. The senior chief’s voice grew rough with disgust. I never dreamed he’d go into politics. Christ, I’ll never forget the way he just turned and shot that kid and his mom like it was nothing.

I hear he’s on the short list for Vice President, Joe grimly volunteered.

Oh, Christ, no, Senior Chief protested. Tell John to go ahead and write his book. Hell, I’ll hand-sell it for him. We thought Rawlings was dangerous when he was working for the CIA? Wait until he’s next in line to be our fucking Commander-in-Chief.

Sudden insight cast a spotlight in Ophelia’s head on a previously unrealized fact. This John that the SEALs had been talking about—could he be John Staskiewicz, the Navy SEAL who’d lived near Vinny, the one who’d been murdered? Was the world that small?

Oh, Lord, it was, wasn’t it? In that case, they had all been on the op-gone-bad—Rawlings, Staskiewicz, Joe, Senior Chief, and one other SEAL. And when their target, Gabir al Baldawi hadn’t been present in the building as expected, Rawlings had blown his top, shooting and killing some poor kid, along with his mother.

The SEALs had reluctantly agreed to cover up the truth. John Staskiewicz, the first to break his code of silence, had ended up dead.

Which meant that Rawlings would stop at nothing to keep the truth out of the public eye.

I am so dead, Ophelia thought.

Terror gave rise to a wave of nausea. Battling the urge to hang her head off the edge of the seat and vomit, she held as still as possible. If she so much as moved, her abductor might pull over and hit her with another crippling injection. God only knew what was in that stuff and what it was doing to the fragile little life in her womb.

My baby! Oh, God, she couldn’t let her baby die with her.

As the car veered off the highway, banking onto a tight turning exit ramp, she adjusted her position surreptitiously. Their speed slowed, giving her hope that they would pull up to a gas station. But then she remembered—Vinny had topped off her tank right before arriving at Mama Rose’s, three days earlier. Her gas-sipping engine wouldn’t need fuel for several hundred more miles.

The car turned right, then left, before gaining speed and merging back into traffic. Had they switched directions, heading back the way they’d come? It seemed so, but that was unlikely. After all, her captor had a job to do, and he would see it through to its gory finish. The most that she could hope for was the chance to escape when he finally stopped.

Chapter Five

‡

At the sound of Vinny’s cell phone ringing, the kitchen fell quiet. The eyes of the three Navy SEALs who’d just entered Vinny’s mother’s kitchen focused on Vinny as he glanced at his phone and took the call. “Hello?”

“Mr. DeInnocentis?”

“Yes.”

“This is Sergeant Presti with the Philadelphia Police Force.”

“Yes, sir.” Vinny held his breath, praying for good news.

“Uh, unfortunately, there’ve been no reported sightings of your wife’s vehicle. We can’t treat this as a missing persons case until forty-eight hours have passed.”

They didn’t have forty-eight hours, but Vinny couldn’t assert that without bringing up Rawlings’ name. Thanking the officer for the call, he shooed his mother and sisters out of the kitchen and gestured for his teammates to sit. “You want any leftovers?” he offered belatedly, and they all shook their heads. He sent his commander an imploring look as they sat. “There’s gotta be something we can do.”

“There is,” Joe Montgomery assured him. Lacing his big-knuckled hands on the table in front of him, he leaned in and pitched his voice lower. The SEALs had rallied around Vinny within hours of Ophelia’s disappearance. A ray of late afternoon sunlight sliced through the window over the kitchen sink and emphasizes the disfiguring scar on Monty’s otherwise handsome face. “Rawlings wants John’s manuscript badly enough to trade Ophelia for it,” he conveyed, causing Vinny to cover his eyes briefly to conceal his relief.

“Can we trust him to keep his end of the agreement?” he asked hoarsely.

Senior Chief gave a snort of derision.

“We don’t have much choice,” Joe replied, darting his senior chief a quelling look. “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to sit here with our thumbs up our asses. I’ve got a friend in the FBI—you know Hannah Lindstrom. She’s monitoring Rawlings’ phone calls as we speak. He’s been talking to his assistant, David Collum, every few hours. Hannah suggested the three of us take off to Harrisburg tonight to keep tabs on both men. If they do anything suspicious, then we film them. It’ll take convincing evidence to put a powerful man like Rawlings behind bars.”

Vinny’s temples throbbed. “I’m coming, too,” he insisted.

“Negative.” Joe fixed him with a stern look. “You’re going to stay right here and protect your sister. Think about it: Rawlings has a motive for wanting her out of the picture, too. If he had Ophelia and Bella followed this morning, then he knows where Bella lives. You need to stay here to protect her.”

Joe’s observation pushed Vinny’s concern to new heights. His commander was right. He had to think about his sister’s and mother’s safety, too. “You’ll keep me updated,” he pleaded.

“Absolutely,” Joe assured him.

Vinny nodded. “Does Penny know what happened yet?”

“Not yet.” Joe regarded him steadily. “You want me to tell her?”

Vinny pictured Lia’s sister’s reaction to the news. “No,” he decided. The fewer people who felt as miserable as he did, the better. “We’ll tell her tomorrow, when it’s over.” That was assuming everything went as planned—which it would, Vinny assured himself.

Joe sent him a sympathetic grimace. “I know what you’re going through, buddy,” he reminded his brother-in-law. “Believe me, when Penny was kidnapped by that thug working for the ricin thief, those were the longest twenty-four hours of my life. But if she managed to outsmart her kidnapper, who knows what Lia can do? She’s hell on wheels when she makes up her mind to be; you know that.”

Oh, he knew. And while Joe meant for his words to be reassuring, they only notched his anxiety higher. It would be so like Ophelia to undermine their rescue attempt by trying to escape on her own. The very real possibility that she could end up getting hurt, even killed, pushed tears of distress into his eyes.

Joe flicked a glance at his watch. “We should probably get going.” He shoved his chair back, signaling to the others to do likewise. The diminutive kitchen could barely contain the four large men standing shoulder to shoulder.

“We’ll see you at John’s funeral.” Senior Chief McGuire threw an arm around Vinny’s neck in an uncharacteristic show of affection.

“Keep this,” Sean Harlan said, pulling a Sig Sauer P226 out from under his T-shirt and laying it gently on the table, along with two boxes of extra ammo that he fished from his pockets.

Vinny reached for the weapon, still warm from Sean’s skin, and tucked it into his waistband against the small of his back. “Thanks,” he said, “all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Hell, you wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for us,” Joe pointed out.

That wasn’t exactly true, Vinny ruefully reflected. It was Ophelia letting her professional ambition get the better of her common sense that had gotten them all involved.

Trailing his teammates down the hall to the door, Vinny let them out. He watched them slip into their government-issued sedan and drive away before shutting and locking the door and killing the lights.

Creeping up the stairs, he found his mother and sister consoling each other on his mama’s bed. The picture they presented, crying and hugging each other, reminded him so forcibly of the night his father had abandoned them that he shut the door so he didn’t have to see them. Then he made a perch for himself at the top of the stairs and waited. If Rawlings did send someone tonight to try to silence Bella, Vinny would be ready for him.

*

It’s wearing off again.

Ophelia blinked away the sticky weight that kept her eyelids shut. She lay face down across a soft surface, drawing on fractured memories of the last time she’d been conscious enough to make sense of her present situation.

She remembered the car stopping. The second the engine died, she’d sat up, determined to catch her captor off guard. Only, she hadn’t moved fast enough. One minute she’d been pawing at the door handle, fumbling to release the lock, and the next she’d fallen into his arms. A light snow had flecked her cheek. She’d gleaned a fleeting impression of tall pine trees and cold mountain air just before the sharp prick of a needle pierced her shoulder for a second time. The last thing she remembered was being hauled out of the car and tossed over her captor’s broad shoulder.

Where am I? A thread of faint silver light shone between two dark panels suggesting the presence of a window. Turning her head the other way, she spied a brighter beam of light at the bottom of a closed door. From beyond it came the sound of a television program, complete with canned laughter. The blanket under her nose emitted the odor of mothballs.

Given the bits of information at her disposal, she concluded she’d been driven to the Pocono Mountains. Was this where her captor meant to kill her, in some remote cabin where no one would hear her screams? If so, why hadn’t he done it already? Perhaps he was waiting for her to regain consciousness. That made sense if he was after information.

Not going to happen.

She tried to move. Her limbs felt inordinately heavy from the drug still cycling through her veins. She discovered her feet bound, her hands also, with what felt like long plastic garbage ties. A numb fire licked up her arms to stab at her shoulder sockets. It was that pain that had roused her.

Stifling a moan, Ophelia rolled onto her back, jackknifed to a sitting position, and took closer stock of her whereabouts. The room appeared small but decently appointed—a dresser, a bed, and a mirror. Perhaps there was something she could use to cut herself free?

An object resembling her purse had her looking back at the dresser. Would her captor be so careless as to leave her purse, with her phone inside it, sitting right next to her?

Vinny! She could call for help.

Moving slowly, so as not to let the bed squeak, she stood up, not altogether certain her legs would hold her. When they did, she gave a little hop, and then another, leaned over the dresser and caught her purse between her teeth. She discovered the snaps hard to open without hands. The two halves of her purse parted at last beneath her wriggling jaw. She nosed her way into the main pocket, searching desperately for her phone. But it wasn’t there. Her abductor must have removed it. He’d probably turned it off, too, so she couldn’t be traced.

He wasn’t careless after all. Or was he?

Seizing the whole bag with her teeth, she pivoted and dropped it on the bed, causing the contents to spill out. Then she sifted through them with her nose—makeup, checkbook, lipstick, ah ha! Fingernail file. She sat next to it, groping behind her back to pick it up. She would use it to cut herself free.

This looks a lot easier in the movies.

But hope and desperation lent her dexterity. Back and forth over the plastic strip she sawed, cutting through it one millimeter at a time. With a snap, the cuff around her wrists broke. Swallowing a cry of hope, she went to work on the strip that bound her ankles together. Outside her room, she could hear the television program give way to advertising. At any moment, her captor might get up and check on her.

Having injected her twice now, he was clearly cognizant of the fact that the drug only worked for a specific period of time. He was probably gearing up to inject her yet again—or worse yet, keep her awake for questioning and torture.

If it comes to that, I’ll pretend I’m versed in torture like Vinny. But it wouldn’t come to that if she could help it. She was getting the hell out of here before her captor could lay his hands on her again.

With another snap, the flex cuff dropped from around her ankles. Ophelia pushed to her feet. Straining to hear over her galloping heart, she dropped the file back into her purse along with the rest of her stuff, picked her purse up, and tiptoed toward the window. Discovering her coat hanging on the bedpost, she dove into it, fingers fumbling to button herself up. It would be cold out there.

She had just crossed the room to the window to further her escape when the television fell silent. Terror spiked, causing her to freeze like a thief, her ears pricked to the sounds beyond her door. Her captor seemed to be listening, also. Any minute now, he would get up to check on her. She couldn’t afford to tarry.

Stretching out a hand that shook, she felt beneath the heavy curtain for a window latch. There it was, in the middle of the window, icy to the touch. The mechanism was simple and familiar. With a push of her thumb, she flipped it open, eliciting a scraping noise. On the other side of the door, the slow thud of approaching footsteps goaded her into reckless action. Now, Ophelia! She yanked aside the curtain, put both palms against the frosty pane, and pushed upward. At first it stuck. But then, with a pop, it rumbled upward, admitting a gust of frigid air that took her breath away. At least there was no screen to contend with.

The doorknob turned. Should have locked that, she realized in hindsight.

With the silhouette of her captor filling the opening door and his shout of warning abrading her ears, Ophelia threw herself head first out the opening, diving into the darkness. More than halfway out, her upper thighs caught on the windowsill. For a terrible second, she hung suspended, purse dangling from her elbow, her head mere feet from the dark earth while the man sought to grab her failing legs and drag her back inside.

With a mighty kick, Ophelia freed herself. Her captor’s shout of pain echoed in her ears as she crashed onto the hard ground, hands outstretched to break her fall. A shooting pain radiated up her right arm just before the top of her head struck frozen soil. She tucked her chin, rounded her spine and rolled the way she’d seen Vinny do when he wrestled with her nephew.

To her amazement, she rolled right up on her feet. But she’d lost her purse in the tumble. No time to pick it up now. Clasping her right arm to her chest, she ran blindly into the shadows, only to discover that they were trees with sharp branches that clawed at her clothing and her hair as she wended her way through them.

The earth rose sharply under her Keds, forcing her to ascend a densely wooded slope, one with unseen boulders that jutted out of the earth causing her to trip. She fell to her knees, landed on a bed of pine needles, and struggled up again.

Behind her she could hear a door slamming and the tramping of feet.

As expected, her captor was coming after her. He’d seen which direction she was fleeing. She could hear him crashing through the forest in her wake, gaining on her steadily. She lengthened her stride, but he was frighteningly fast. Hide! She cast her gaze about, looking for a bush to squirm beneath, but the underbrush was tragically thin. Hearing him just feet away, she darted behind the wide trunk of a tree and froze.

He slowed, no doubt scanning the area, searching for her.

Ophelia fought to silence her panting. She could hear Vinny in her head, teaching her how to breathe the way Navy SEALs did—Inhale for the count of three, through the mouth, hold for one second, slowly exhale. But her chest convulsed in fear, causing her exhalation to come out in the form of a sob. Twigs snapped right behind her under the soles of her captor’s shoes.

“Thought you could run?” He pounced without warning, prompting her scream of terror. “Shut up, puta.”

The slap came out of nowhere, sobering her with its force.

“Come here.” He grabbed her with impatient hands, whipping her around and prodding her back in the direction of the house. “You gonna get me in trouble,” he groused in his accented English.

With her last shred of hope, she sought to outsmart him. “Whatever Rawlings is paying you, my husband will double it,” she offered.

“I don’t know who’s payin’ me, and I don’t care.”

“He’s the lieutenant governor, Jay Rawlings.”

“Shut up. I don’t want to know nothin’. I just do what I’m told.”

“Then you’re nothing but a coward,” she retorted.

“I said, shut up!” He gave her a push that sent her stumbling face-first into the nearest tree trunk. Rough bark scraped the side of her face, leaving it stinging. The injured hand she’d used to catch herself gave a throb of protest. “Maricón,” he hissed, hauling her upright. “You gonna hurt yourself and I’ll get the blame.”

Mulling over his words, she winced as he grabbed her by the hair and propelled her toward her makeshift prison.

The cabin looked like something seasonal that a hunter might use. There were no other structures in sight—no signs of any other human inhabitants anywhere.

What did he mean he would get the blame for hurting her?

He shoved her through the open door, kicked it shut behind them and slammed her against the refrigerator. “Don’ move,” he warned, turning away to paw inside of a plastic case.

She touched a finger to her stinging face and realized it was bleeding.

When he turned around, her captor was sucking clear liquid from a capsule into a syringe.

“Oh, don’t do that,” she begged him. “You’re going to hurt my baby with those drugs.”

Dismissing her words with a sneer, he seized her shoulder and stabbed her through her coat like he’d done two times previously.

In the next instant, Ophelia slumped against him. As the room turned gray then black, it occurred to her that he was keeping her alive. But why?

Chapter Six

‡

“Eat your sausage, figlio,” Vinny’s mother insisted.

“I’m not hungry, Mama,” he said, ignoring his breakfast plate. He had stayed up all night guarding his family, and he still seethed with restless energy. With his mother puttering around him, he watched Ophelia’s interview with Rawlings on the Nikon’s previewer, unable to take his eyes off Rawlings—the slimy piece of shit. The man looked so clean-cut, so upstanding. To think that he could shoot a kid in the head just because he got on his nerves was bad enough; to have abducted Lia—Vinny’s clever, glittering Lia—made Vinny want to wrap his hands around the man’s neck and slowly squeeze the life out of him. Hell, that’s what Rawlings was doing to Vinny, who couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even eat his goddamn breakfast because his wife was in peril.

Swallowing a bitter taste in his mouth, he wished that someone had tried to hit his house last night, after all. Not that he’d wanted Bella or his mother in harm’s way, but he’d been stewing for a fight. Still was.

“Are you going to kill him?”

The fearful question brought Vinny’s attention back to the present. He’d forgotten that Bella was sitting in the chair beside him, playing with her food. The dark smudges under her eyes and the pallor in her cheeks told him she had hardly slept a wink herself. “No,” he told her, “’course not. I’m not a murderer. He’s the murderer.”

Bella nodded, her eyes watering.

“Hey,” he said realizing she still blamed herself for everything. “This ain’t your fault, Bella. No matter what happens, you remember that. Lia does what Lia does. You didn’t force her into anything, did you?”

She shook her head, unable to answer him.

Just then his cell phone buzzed and he snatched it off the table, his pulse kicking to see that Joe was calling him. “Whatchu got, sir?” he demanded in lieu of a proper greeting.

“I saw her. She’s alive.”

“What?” Relief flooded his system, making him sink more heavily into his chair. “Where? How’d she look?”

“I’ve been tailing Rawlings’ assistant, Dave Collum, while the others have been watching Rawlings.” Considering how little sleep the CO had probably gotten, he sounded as sharp and on-the-ball as ever. “Collum left Harrisburg early this morning. I followed them to a warehouse over in South Philly, where a guy pulls up driving Lia’s Kia Soul. The tags were different, but that dent where she backed into my mailbox is unmistakable. The assistant gets out, pays the other guy off, and then transfers Ophelia into his vehicle.”

Vinny swallowed hard and repeated his second question through a tight throat. “How’s she look?”

“Fine,” Joe answered rather vaguely. “But listen up. I called the cops to report a sighting on the Kia Soul, so hopefully they’ve arrested her kidnapper by now. Chances are, he was the same guy Rawlings used to murder Staskiewicz. In the meantime, I’ve tailed Collum’s vehicle to Rawlings’ Philadelphia address. It looks like Rawlings plans to go through with the exchange.”

Vinny scrubbed a hand over his face. His eyes burned with relief and the need to have Lia safe and sound and in his arms again, but it wasn’t that easy.

“I want you to wear Harlan’s dress whites at the funeral. Harley will be hiding so he can film Rawlings’ actions during the exchange. The more evidence we can stack against him, the less chance he can get out of the charges we level against him later.”

“Are you sure Lia’s okay?” Vinny interrupted. Joe’s refusal to elaborate earlier made him fearful. What wasn’t Joe telling him?

“She’s fine, Vinny. She appeared to be unconscious, which means he’s probably got her drugged. There’s a scrape on her face that Rawlings’ assistant looked upset to see,” he added on a side note, “but other than that, she’s in one piece.”

“A scrape. How bad of a scrape? Was she beaten?”

“I couldn’t really tell. I was too far away. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll see you before the funeral. We’ll stop by your house to pick you up and head over in one car.”

Severing the call, Vinny looked up to see his mother and sister staring at him with identical expressions of foreboding. “She’s okay,” Vinny relayed in a voice that was thick with relief. To his chagrin, he couldn’t maintain his composure any longer. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed with relief. She was going to be back in his arms, back where she belonged by sundown. He could go on breathing.

Thank you, dear, sweet God!

*

Lia surfaced from a deeply unconscious state, fighting the poison in her bloodstream long enough to determine where she was and what was happening to her.

Why am I naked?

Her sudden sense of vulnerability, a breath of cool air prickling her skin, heightened her awareness. She couldn’t open her eyes—her abductor had clearly upped the dose of the tranquilizer—but she didn’t have to see to know that she was being wiped down.

A wet cloth, smelling of urine and soap, moved briskly along her upper thighs, causing her to lurch reflexively. The surface under her back felt smooth yet hard, as though she lay on a sheet draped over a table.

“All done here,” said a mature woman with an African American cadence to her voice. “Turn her over, Mason, and we’ll clean her up from behind.”

Appalled, Lia felt herself being flipped onto her stomach by hands that felt large yet feeble in contrast to her abductor’s. Who is touching me and why?

The suspicion that she’d soiled herself made her face flame with mortification, but as she lay face down, those attending her didn’t seem to notice. The woman resumed her no-nonsense job of tidying her up. “There. Now we can dress her again. Try not to stare, dear. What you ought to be doin’ is asking yourself what this comatose woman is doing in our house.”

“All I know is she’s a reporter,” answered an older man’s voice. “She must have been trying to frame the boss or something.”

The woman sniffed. “Well, if he don’t have nothin’ to hide,” she pointed out, “then why’s he doin’ something like this? It’s immoral, is what it is.”

“Hush, now. The walls have ears,” the man named Mason muttered. “He probably just means to teach her a lesson, is all. He’s lettin’ her go today. That’s why we’ve got to dress her in clean clothes.”

“Well, I will say this, Mason: Jay Rawlings ain’t the man his father was. I think it’s high time that you retire. I won’t have you livin’ out your days in prison, you hear? Now hand me those clothes and help me put them on her.”

Ophelia seized upon the words the man had spoken—he’s lettin’ her go— and clung to them like a life raft. But then the weight of the drugs fouling her system tugged at her mercilessly, pulling her back under, into a sea of unconsciousness.

*

As the gleaming, mahogany coffin began its descent into the gaping hole in the ground, the bagpiper, wearing a kilt that left his bare knees ruddy in the cold, drew a huge breath, inflating his instrument and filling the late afternoon stillness with a heartfelt tribute. A stiff autumn breeze forced the last golden leaf from the maple tree behind the bagpiper, sending it spiraling toward the grave and onto the lid of the casket, like Mother Nature’s silent coda for the fallen soldier being laid to rest.

If anyone besides Vinny thought it odd that a man of Polish descent should be buried in a Lutheran cemetery to the strains of Danny Boy, they kept silent on the subject. For his part, Vinny was too busy trying not to jump out of his skin or vomit from anxiousness to question the strangeness of the proceedings. Standing by the graveside next to his CO and the senior chief, wearing Chief Harlan’s dress whites and trying to appear calm, Vinny found this particular stakeout far more nerve-wracking than any mission he’d ever been on. The clear sky and the crisp November weather ought to have reassured him. Rawlings had arrived late to stand at the back of the assembled guests. Members of Staskiewicz’s family had no idea that the man responsible for John’s murder was even in attendance.

Throughout the ceremony, Vinny had fought the urge to shoot Rawlings malevolent glares. He’d satisfied himself by searching for Chief Harlan, who was staked out under a bush with the Sig Sauer P226 safely back in his competent possession. In lieu of the high-powered scope he usually used, Harlan lay at the viewing end of Bella’s Nikon camera. Anything Rawlings said or did would be used to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law.

At last, the coffin settled with a thud in its final resting place.

“Ashes to ashes,” the pastor intoned, leaning over to pinch a bit of dirt between his fingers and toss it into the grave. “And dust to dust.”

The family members lined up to follow his example.

With the bagpiper still wailing out the poignant melody, Vinny saw Rawlings offer a glib word to the man next to him and separate himself from the standing mourners. Vinny nudged his brother-in-law, who said out of the corner of his mouth, “I see him. Wait a bit.”

Vinny ground his molars together. If he waited any longer, every black hair on his head was going to turn white.

The lieutenant governor had parked his car on the other side of the cemetery, far away from the other mourners. Joe waited for the man’s silhouette to disappear behind a sarcophagus before muttering, “Now.”

Together, he, Vinny, and Senior Chief McGuire broke away from the crowd and ghosted across the manicured grounds. The thud of Vinny’s pounding heart echoed off his eardrums, muffling the crunch of dead grass beneath their feet as they threaded their way between the headstones.

Would Rawlings try to pull a fast one? Missing the reassuring weight of his MP5 submachine gun, Vinny wiped his damp palms on his thighs. This wasn’t combat, but he felt the same way he did at the start of every op—sick to his stomach. Anything could go wrong, affecting the outcome of his life, dictating his destiny, threatening his identity as Ophelia’s husband. His heart lurched with panic at the thought of losing her forever.

As a unit, they zeroed in on Rawlings’ black Town Car, their steps measured and determined. The lieutenant governor lounged against his vehicle striving to look relaxed, but his gaze locked on Joe and then Senior Chief, and recognition flared in his gray eyes.

“So,” he called when they ventured close enough to communicate, “we meet again.” His voice dripped with disdain and with the condescending tone he must have used when guiding their actions ten years ago. “I always knew one of you would go back on your word.”

“Is that why you had Staskiewicz killed?” Joe inquired for the benefit of Chief Harlan and his camera.

Rawlings sent him a sneer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he retorted. His gaze slid to the taped box tucked under Joe’s left arm. “Is that the book?”

“Yes, it is.” Nothing about Joe’s voice betrayed his tension.

“Toss it over. Then I’ll give you what you came for. And just so you know, if you plan to screw me over in the end, I’m taking you both down with me. You’re both still active duty.” He gestured at Joe and Senior Chief’s uniforms. “How’s it going to reflect on your careers if I allege that you were the ones who killed the kid and his mother? It’s my word against yours, fellas, and I’ve got power on my side.”

“I want to see Ophelia first,” Vinny blurted. He didn’t trust Rawlings not to jump into his car and take off, nor did he give a shit about what happened ten years earlier. He just wanted Ophelia back in his arms again.

Rawlings gestured for the book, and Vinny watched Joe toss the box onto the ground at the lieutenant governor’s feet. Satisfied, Rawlings looked at Vinny as if seeing the young SEAL for the first time. “She’s over there.” He gestured to a looming statue of a shepherd holding a sheep.

Vinny pivoted, catching sight of a laced shoe peeking out from behind the statue and recognizing Ophelia’s Keds in an instant. “Lia!”

He took off, not even waiting for Joe’s permission, and raced with his heart in his throat toward the sprawled figure. She lay against the statue’s base, her eyes half-open and glassy looking. One side of her cheek bore bruises and lacerations, although someone had done a fine job of cleaning her up. Her coat was buttoned to her chin, but he could see her shivering as he threw himself onto the cold ground, wrapped one arm around her, and reached at the same time for her pulse.

“I’m here, cara mia,” he crooned, only vaguely registering the sound of Rawlings’ car door slamming shut. An engine roared to life and faded into the distance. Guided by his training as a medic, Vinny fixed his attention on the faint pulse at Ophelia’s wrist. Finding it swollen and bruised, he switched to the other arm. At the same time, a glance into her eyes confirmed that she’d been drugged.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she sought to focus on him.

“Vinny,” she whispered. The tragic quality of her voice arrested him from counting her heartbeats. A single tear sluiced out of the corner of one eye. “I’m so sorry,” she added, her words slurred.

“Hush,” he exclaimed. “It’s over. You’re safe now, baby. No one’s going to hurt you again.”

At his assertion, her face crumpled into a picture of misery. With a cluck of dismay, he gave up trying to take her pulse, gathered her into his arms, and lifted her off the ground.

That was when he saw the blood. It had soaked the dead grass beneath the spot where she’d been lying. Horror electrified him. He searched automatically for a gun wound. Finding the hem of her coat drenched, he lifted it and realized she was bleeding down there. Jesus God, what had Rawlings done to her?

He turned a stricken face toward the SEALs who had already reached him, enclosing the grim scene of husband and fallen wife; Chief Harlan arrived a moment later looking uncertain as he clutched Bella’s camera in his square hands.

“Call an ambulance,” Vinny croaked in a voice he scarcely recognized as his own. “She’s bleeding.”

Commander Montgomery already had his phone out, his eyes sliding to the scarlet smear now staining the yellowed grass.

Chapter Seven

‡

Lia kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep, even though the effects of the tranquilizer had finally worn off. Her sprained right wrist throbbed within the bandage that now kept it immobile. The sounds of the bustling hospital, audible through her closed door, reassured her that she was safe, no longer staring at her own imminent death.

Her pregnancy, however, had not survived the trauma, a fact that dragged her spirits down into a dark, muddy place where her conscience pointed the finger of blame squarely at herself.

She didn’t have to open her heavy eyes to know that Vinny was sitting in the chair next to her bed, his brooding gaze on her face. She could sense him there, staring at her, willing for her to wake up so they could talk. Except, she didn’t want to talk because then she’d have to accept her guilt and deal with it.

Talk to him, you coward, her conscience commanded.

It wasn’t fair to Vinny to leave him just sitting there, awash with confusion. She owed him an explanation. She owed him way more than that, but it was too late now.

Dreading the conversation to come, she drew a bracing breath, forced her eyelids to open, and turned her head to meet his bloodshot gaze.

God, if he looked that bad with deep brackets around his mouth and dark circles under his eyes, then she had to look a total wreck. “Hey,” she greeted him, in a voice scratchy with disuse.

His gaze seemed to tunnel through her eyes into her mind. “Hey, yourself. How’re you feelin’?”

“Sore,” she admitted, swallowing against a dry throat. “Could I have a drink of water?”

He handed her the large plastic cup off the wheeled tray, and she whispered her thanks, nursing the chilled water from the straw while she formulated what to say to him. She thought she recalled apologizing at the cemetery when they’d been reunited, but one apology scarcely atoned for the enormity of her sins. She didn’t know where to start.

“How long did you know?” Vinny demanded, diving right in. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he awaited her answer.

The reminder that the precious little life she’d been guarding was gone drove a shaft of pain straight through her heart. She lowered the cup to her lap and stared down at it, devastated. She had tried turning over a new leaf. She had wanted to put the baby first, and now it was too late. “Almost two months,” she admitted, too ashamed to even look at him.

Stunned silence followed her reply. “Two months,” he finally repeated, in a voice that resonated with betrayal.

“I was going to tell you,” she rushed to assure him, “but I was afraid you’d force me to quit my job and I wasn’t ready…” She cut herself off, dismayed by how petty she sounded.

“You weren’t ready.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his hands gripping the edge of the chair he sat in, as he fought to rein in his incredulity. “Is that all you ever think of—yourself? What about the baby?” he demanded with controlled rage. “What about me? I haven’t slept or eaten or breathed in thirty-six hours because you didn’t tell me what you were up to. If I had known you were interviewing Rawlings, I would have recognized his name and realized what you were up against, and I would have protected you. None of this would have happened!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Remorse twisted through her, wringing tears from her heart. “I was going to tell you.”

“Really?” he scoffed, his volume climbing. “After all the secrets you’ve kept from me, how do I know you had any intention of telling me at all?”

She gasped at the hurtful words, wrenching her gaze up in a desperate bid to convince him. “I was,” she insisted. “On Christmas day, I was going to put the pregnancy strip in your… stocking.” Her voice broke at the realization that that would never happen now. The poor little life inside of her had never stood a chance. She’d endangered it by continuing with her risky plan, knowing all the while how villainous a man Rawlings truly was. “Is he—did he get arrested yet for what he did to me?” she asked in a desperate bid to shift some of the blame off her own narrow shoulders.

“Not yet.” Vinny sprang to his feet and stalked to the window, his agitation a clear sign that Rawlings’ continued freedom chafed at him. “The cops and the district attorney want to make sure he won’t find some kind of loophole to get around the charges.”

An aching silence fell between them. Vinny kept his back to her. She watched his shoulders rise and fall as he fought to bring his emotions under control.

“I swear, Vinny,” Ophelia said, in a last-ditch effort to elicit his understanding, “if I’d known what Rawlings would do to me, I would never have taken chances with our baby.”

He turned his head at her assertion. But the look in his eyes wasn’t even one that she recognized. He looked at her as if he’d never seen before—or like he was seeing for the first time who she really was. The look encased her heart in ice.

He had finally realized what she’d known all along—that she did not deserve him. That she wasn’t the woman he thought she was.

“What else do you swear to?” he demanded, turning to face her, his hands curled into fists by his side. “That you never once considered aborting our baby? Is that why you didn’t tell me you were pregnant?”

She longed to deny the accusation immediately, but the memory of considering abortion even for a fraction of a second kept her mute.

“I gotta get out of here,” he declared, snatching his jacket off the back of the chair, “before I say something I’ll regret.” With fingers that shook, he jammed his arms through the sleeves as he walked to the door. Feeling lower than a worm crawling deep down in the earth, Ophelia could only watch him walk away.

As he reached for the latch, someone knocked.

With a scowl Vinny snatched the door open.

“Is she sleeping?” asked a familiar voice.

He held the door wordlessly ajar.

Stunned by the remote look on Vinny’s face, Ophelia scarcely noticed her sister, Penny, peering around the door. With a dismissive look that made Ophelia’s veins shrink, he slipped past Penny without another word.

“Hey.” Penny divided a curious look between them as her son Ryan tugged her into the room. “Sorry it took so long for us to get here,” she apologized. “Our flight was delayed.” She sidled up to the bed, dismay registering on her pleasant face as she looked her sister over. “Oh, honey, you look awful.” Blue-green eyes took stock of the cuts on Ophelia’s face.

“I feel awful,” Ophelia managed to whisper past the huge lump in her throat. Her gaze trekked to the little blond head standing at the height of her bed, near her elbow. Ryan peered up at her through rounded, worried eyes. “Hi, buddy,” she crooned, sitting up straighter so as not to alarm him further, and willed herself not to cry in front of him. “Why don’t you come sit up here?” She patted the space beside her hip, prompting Penny to lift him onto the mattress. “Fifi needs a hug,” she added, using the name he’d bestowed on her.

As naturally compassionate as his mother, Ryan leaned into Ophelia, wrapped his sturdy little arms around her, and squeezed her hard. With her nose buried in his bright hair, it occurred to Ophelia that she would never get to cuddle her own baby like this. She’d failed to protect the little life the way she should have. Her face crumpled with misery.

“You hurt, Fifi?” Ryan asked, running a gentle hand over the bandage that encased her wrist as he peered up at her.

She tried once more to hide her tears from him and failed. “I’m hurt,” she admitted in a voice thick with grief.

But it wasn’t Rawlings whom she blamed; it was herself. She’d asked for every ounce of the misery filling her heart. She didn’t deserve her loving husband. She didn’t deserve a happy marriage. Not even the loss of her baby was punishment enough. It was about time she owned up to what a selfish, shallow creature she was. Time she showed some accountability for her actions. Just how she would accomplish such a feat, she didn’t know, but it needed to be done. It was time to make some serious atonement.

*

Vinny slanted his wife a worried look. Seated next to him in the passenger seat of her reclaimed Kia Soul, she’d spoken scarcely more than a word since checking out of the hospital that morning. He’d brought her by his mama’s house so she could say good-bye to his mother and sister, both of whom had been nearly as subdued as Lia. And now they were an hour outside of Philadelphia with hours to go before they reached Virginia Beach. He’d hoped putting distance between her and the man who’d nearly had her killed would bring some color back into her waxen cheeks, a little of that devil-may-care sparkle back to her lackluster eyes. But she remained silent and subdued, almost…penitent, if such a word could be used to describe her.

“You warm enough, cara mia?” The slate colored clouds were starting to dust I-95 with shimmering snowflakes. He had set the heat on high, but Lia still looked like she was freezing. She sat there hugging her injured arm like a bird with a broken wing, suppressing visible shudders. Was it the shock of having nearly been murdered or his harsh words that were eating at her?

“I’m fine.” She stared unseeing at the road before them.

If Rawlings was the problem, maybe she only needed reassurance that he would be brought to justice—and soon. “I told you the latest update from Sergeant Presti, didn’t I?” he asked, recalling that he had, but maybe she hadn’t heard him.

“About the chauffeur?” she replied, proving as astute as ever. “Yeah, you told me.”

Rawlings’ driver, questioned by the police in relation to Lia’s abduction and reappearance, had bolstered their case by rendering statements that implicated his employer. More than that, Lia’s abductor, arrested for car theft, had stowed a Glock in his own car that was linked to the bullet that had killed John Staskiewicz. Finding himself facing murder charges, the kidnapper had fingered Collum as the man who’d hired him to abduct Lia. Phone calls between Collum and Rawlings, retrieved by the FBI, had sealed the lieutenant governor’s fate. The man was being held without bond.

“Rawlings isn’t going to get away with what he’s done, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“It’s not. Actually,” she said, in a distant voice that did little to reassure him, “I could care less about Rawlings.”

In that case, it had to be his behavior yesterday that had made her erect an invisible wall between them. “Look, I know we’ve got some stuff to talk about. Finding out that I was a father and I didn’t even know it until the baby was gone—that was a mind fuck. I just don’t understand why my wife—my most trusted friend—would keep something like that from me. I’m sorry if I snapped, okay? I’m just a little on the defensive here.”

To his astonishment, Lia socked him in the shoulder. “Don’t do that!” she railed.

“Do what? What’d I do now?”

“You’re apologizing! Why the hell are you apologizing when I’m the one who screwed up? I deserved every ounce of your anger and every harsh word you had to say to me.”

“Baby, don’t do this—”

“No, I have to. Right now I hate myself, and I’ve decided to move out for a while,” she added.

What? The words were so unexpected that the steering wheel wobbled in his grip. “What do you mean ‘move out’?” he asked, panic spiking his pulse.

“I just…I need some time alone, away from…us.”

Us? He had to tear his horrified gaze off her profile to keep from crashing into the guardrail. Stabbing on the hazard lights, he swung her Kia off the highway and into the breakdown lane, where he turned in his seat to reason with her. “I don’t understand. You gotta know I love you, no matter what.”

“I know that.” She turned her head to look at him. “But right now I don’t love myself. I kept you in the dark when I shouldn’t have. Because of my selfishness, I got our baby killed—”

“Lia.”

“Let me talk. I don’t deserve you, Vinny. I never have.”

“Don’t say that,” he begged, his heart thudding with dread that she really meant what she was saying. “Of course you deserve me. That’s bullshit.” He tried groping for her hand, but she pulled it away and hugged herself harder.

“It’s not bullshit. It’s the truth.” She turned her face away from him to stare into the trees beside the highway. “I’m going to move in with my sister for a while,” she said dully.

“How can you say that?” Vinny demanded. “When Rawlings took you away from me, I couldn’t even breathe, Lia. Don’t you understand? I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t even want to.”

“You’ll be better off,” she insisted.

Taking in her stoic demeanor, he realized she was serious.

“Sweetheart, we can work this out,” he told her. “We’ve always worked things out.”

Her solemn expression offered him no hope. “Not this time,” she said simply.

Shocked into silence, Vinny turned his attention to the cars tearing past them. They had four more hours on the road before they got home. Something told him that four hours wouldn’t be enough time in which to change Lia’s mind—probably not even four days or even a week. They’d come upon a huge, unforeseeable knot in their bond as husband and wife, one that made him quail for how convoluted and complicated it appeared.

Being a SEAL, his first impulse was to tackle the problem head-on, to unravel the knot, and smooth things out between them. But his gut whispered that this problem wasn’t something he could fix. Only Lia, given time to heal and the space to remember how much they meant to each other, could untangle the knot from her end. All he could do was relinquish her in the hopes that she would realize they were better together than apart.

With his heart sinking like a stone, he merged back into traffic resigned to the fact that, for an unknown length of time, he was going to have to go through life without Lia right beside him.

Chapter Eight

‡

“Dat’s a licorice card,” Ryan stated, pointing a pudgy finger at the spot where Ophelia’s gingerbread man was about to land. “You have to skip a turn.”

“Are you sure?” Ophelia reached for the licorice card and turned it over. “Huh, you have the cards memorized,” she marveled.

He had trounced her at a memory game earlier that day, and she didn’t even know how he played those games on his Nintendo DS. At only three years of age, Ryan’s situational awareness reminded her of Vinny. “I bet you have a photographic memory, too,” she wagered, realizing now why she constantly lost to a three year old. “You’re cheating,” she added under her breath.

Ryan looked up sharply from the board that lay on the living room floor between them. “I not cheatin’!” he said, his little eyes ablaze with indignation.

“No, of course not,” she soothed, cursing her quick tongue. “That’s not what I meant, honey. It’s just that your eyes take pictures and your head stores them, so you never forget anything you see.”

Duh. The look on Ryan’s face conveyed plainly that this was obvious. He probably thought it was the same for everyone. Ophelia snorted at his expression. Nothing amused her more than the looks on Ryan’s face. They made her wonder if her own baby would have been so amusing, so precocious, so damn smart. Of course he—or she—would have. Any child of Vinny’s was bound to be a prodigy.

For the fifth time that day, she caught herself reaching for her cell phone. Don’t call him. She was the one who’d insisted that they live apart. She’d refused to be the thorn in his side, the weak link in their marriage, any longer. She had walked out of their life together because he was better off without her. Calling and talking to him like they were friends would be counter-productive.

Except that she missed him so much that she physically ached for him. She dreamed about him every night. She ate like a bird, with little appetite to speak of and had timed how frequently she thought about him—every three minutes, or less. All that had been going on for four weeks now.

She wanted so badly to tell him about the steps she was taking to improve herself. Even with her wrist still healing, she went to fitness classes three times a week and to church with Penny and Joe every Sunday. She had volunteered with Penny at the homeless shelter for veterans. She’d cut back on her hours at work in order to look after Ryan so Penny could save on daycare. It was the least she could do since Penny and Joe had taken her in on a moment’s notice. Best of all, she’d discovered that she wasn’t such an awful role model, after all. Even Joe had said she had a special way with little kids—though come to think of it, that might have been Joe’s idea of a joke about Vinny’s age and relative height.

No, she was good with Ryan. If she weren’t, he wouldn’t want to hang out with her all the time. She would make a good mother, after all. And she was dying to tell Vinny about her epiphany.

Except that Vinny hadn’t called. And Ophelia had her pride. She rolled over onto her back, stared up at the family room ceiling, and sighed. What if he’s waiting for me to call him?

“I winned,” Ryan stated, matter-of-factly.

“Of course you did.”

His piquant face loomed over hers. “Is I good today?” he demanded.

Being good was high on his list of objectives since Santa Claus would know if he wasn’t, and Santa was due to bring toys in just two days. “You were an angel,” Ophelia declared.

He frowned his disgust. “I wanna be a dinosaur.”

“Well, then you’d have to be a dinosaur that doesn’t eat other dinosaurs.”

“Like a stegosaurus.” He leapt to his feet, grabbed the book on dinosaurs off the coffee table, and plopped down with it.

Seeing Ryan engrossed in the book, Ophelia teased the phone out of her pocket and stared at the empty display. She could call Vinny and leave a friendly message. That way he wouldn’t just forget about her. What if he never thought about her the way she thought of him? What if he found somebody else!

She’d dialed his number before she realized what she’d done. Just to hear his voice, she told herself. He was probably at work anyway, so she’d just end up getting his voice mail.

“Lia.” The sound of her name being said with so much warmth and welcome brought a lump to her throat. “How you doin’, cara mia?”

The endearment made her eyes sting. “Good. Great, in fact. Really good. You?”

“Oh…I’ve been better.”

The sorrow in his voice strummed her heartstrings. “Why, what’s wrong?”

A bitter chuckle sounded in her ear. “Nothin’ now, cara mia.”

Relief buoyed her heart. Did her call mean that much to him? God, she hoped so. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted, aware that Ryan had pulled his head out of the book and was now looking at her.

“I’ve missed you more,” Vinny said, causing her heart to leap with joy. So he hadn’t forgotten about her. “How’s the wrist?”

“All better. Are you at work?” she asked.

“At the commissary. I’m lookin’ for something to take to the XO’s Christmas party—you know, the one he has every year?”

“Of course.” Her heart clutched at the memory of past parties and the fun they’d had together.

“I thought I’d get some crackers and cheese. Maybe veggies and hummus.”

“I thought you didn’t like hummus.”

“I like anything you like.”

She seized his olive branch with a rush of gratitude. “Well, I like dressing up and going out,” she hinted heavily. “I haven’t gone out in forever.”

“Then why don’t I pick you up at eighteen hundred hours tomorrow, and we’ll go to the party together?”

She would prefer to go anywhere else in the world than to a party where his teammates were bound to regard her with contempt. Still, beggars could not be choosers. “Okay,” she agreed.

“See you tomorrow then. Bye.”

The phone clicked in her ear making her wonder if Vinny was as eager to get together as she’d initially perceived. Perhaps she’d projected her desire onto him? Either way, the dark cloud that had been hanging over her head just minutes earlier had disappeared. Suddenly, the future looked worth living.

*

Vinny frowned at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he wrestled with his necktie. The gaunt, narrow face of the man looking back at him testified to how miserable he’d been without Lia in his life. Not feeling like he had the right to call her, not hearing the sound of her voice for weeks on end had nearly killed him. Sure, he’d been away from her plenty of times before for work, but he’d always managed to do sporadic video conferencing and the occasional phone call. The knowledge that she was waiting for him had made separation bearable.

Remembering her phone call yesterday, he marveled at his restraint. He’d wanted to sob with relief that she’d finally called him. Instead, he’d held it together long enough to secure a date with her the next night and then he’d quickly hung up before his emotions betrayed him. His patience had finally paid off! Christ, giving her the space to grieve their baby and to realize how much their marriage meant to her had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. And Vinny had faced some enormous challenges.

I’ve got her now, though, he assured his harried reflection. “Fucking tie.” He tugged it apart and started over.

Tonight was the turning point in their present situation. Nervousness fizzed in his belly. He hoped to God he’d gotten the details right, or she might yet slip from his grasp again. To bolster his confidence, he considered the news he had to share with her, confident that it would help to bring her home. She’d soon be back in his life, back in his bed, right where she belonged.

*

“Won’t we be late for the party?” Ophelia asked as Vinny pointed his Civic away from the beachfront toward Norfolk.

“Nah, they’re starting later this year. I wanted to take you somewhere else first.” His dark gaze trekked in her direction, lingering with appreciation on her figure-hugging, fire-engine red velvet dress.

She was glad now that she’d dressed to kill. Looking like a million bucks, as her sister said, gave her the confidence she needed to portray herself as the changed woman that she was, a woman worthy of her husband.

For his part, Vinny didn’t seem to have too much to say. She studied him surreptitiously as they screamed down Highway 264. Looking debonair in his black suit and bright red Christmas tie, it was nonetheless apparent that he’d lost some weight. Did that mean he’d been as miserable as she’d been?

Ten minutes later, he drove his car onto a ramp exiting toward the Norfolk Waterfront. “Just where are you taking me?” she inquired, her curiosity growing.

“Can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

Anticipation bubbled in her breast. “Something tells me we’re not going to the XO’s party,” she wagered, admiring the pretty Christmas lights twinkling on the boardwalk. Even on Christmas Eve, Town Point Park and Waterside Mall attracted a healthy crowd of visitors.

“What makes you say that?” He swung into a parking lot near the marina and killed the engine. “I thought we’d just take a walk first.”

He popped out of the car and was opening her door before she could question him further. “Button up,” he said, taking it upon himself to fasten the top two buttons of her coat. The brush of his knuckles against her chin made her heart melt. Penny and Joe tolerated her company, but only Vinny ever coddled her. When he reached for her hand, it was all she could do not to hang onto him like a teenager in her first crush.

He drew her past a row of brightly lit specialty boutiques and a restaurant emitting a delicious aroma, but he didn’t slow his pace until they neared the marina where sailboats rocked gently at their moorings. Their masts, strung with festive Christmas lights, swayed back and forth. The Spirit of Norfolk cruise ship gleamed like a porcelain gravy dish floating on the dark river. “Let’s go on board,” Vinny suggested, stepping up to the ticket kiosk.

Ophelia pulled back and looked at him. “We’re going on board?” She’s suspected Vinny of having a plan up his sleeve, but a Christmas Eve cruise in lieu of the usual SEAL team party surpassed her wildest expectations.

“I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of making reservations. DeInnocentis, party of two,” he told the booth attendee, who handed him their tickets.

“Oh, Vinny.” The last time they’d taken this particular cruise together, he had proposed to her, going down on one knee in front of guests and crew. That had been the best night of her life. “You shouldn’t have,” she pretended to scold while inwardly celebrating.

“Well, it’s too late to cancel now,” he reasoned, hustling her up the gang plank to the first deck.

The night of his proposal, they had sat with a large group of people unknown to them. Tonight, the hostess led them to a table for two, right next to the window. Vinny pulled her chair out and Ophelia sank into it, her heart clutching at the sight of a rose bouquet and a bottle of champagne. Tears of gratitude stung her eyes. After all she’d done to sabotage their marriage, he still wanted her back.

The hostess expertly opened the bottle and poured them each a glass of chilled, bubbly liquid, wished them a romantic evening, and walked away. Ophelia peeked outside, watching the crew free the cruise ship from its moorings. In the next instant, a whistle sounded and the ship powered into the moonlit river.

She sat back in her chair and looked at him. She might have been the catalyst behind Jay Rawlings’ indictment on kidnapping and murder charges and his immediate removal from the list of vice presidential candidates, but she had put her husband through hell and nearly destroyed everything precious to both of them in the process.

With her eyes, she sought to convey how sorry she was for putting him through the wringer. Holding her eyes, he sent her a pained smile.

The waitress laid an appetizer of shrimp cocktail before them, but it remained untouched as they nursed their champagne. Vinny struck her as oddly quiet—nervous, almost.

“The guys on the team made you somethin’ for Christmas,” he suddenly recollected. Pulling his cell phone from his jacket, he accessed an app and handed it across the table to her. “It’s a video,” he explained at her puzzlement. “Hit play.”

Bemused, Lia tapped the triangle, and the video began. A scene opened onto four of Vinny’s teammates sitting around a bonfire—Chief Harlan and three more men. The camera zeroed in on Harley, whose bright blue eyes reflected the firelight. “So, Lia,” he said, addressing her directly, “we’re having this pow-pow because we want you to know how much you mean to us and to Vinny. It’s true that we don’t always see eye to eye. You get him into trouble now and then and you take him away from us when we want to hang out.”

Haiku, a Japanese-American SEAL leaned in. “And I’ll never forgive you for spilling your beer on my pool table.”

“Right. But we want you to know that we think you’re pretty cool, otherwise,” chimed in Teddy, the only African-American SEAL in Team Twelve. “And without you in his life, Vinny is pretty damn useless to us. He’s a liability to the team and he’s no fun to hang around with, anyway.”

“Yeah, so we need you to forgive him for whatever he’s done and come back to him,” Haiku added.

“We’re begging you, Lia,” Chief Harlan pleaded. “And you know how hard it is for us to be humble. So, Merry Christmas, and here’s to a better year next year with you and Vinny back together.”

The cameraman gave a thumbs up, making Ophelia suspect that Vinny had been the one filming them. “You set that up,” she accused.

“Nope, that was Senior Chief. The video was totally their idea.”

His assertion brought a lump to her throat. She shook her head and heaved a sigh.

“What’sa matter, baby?” Vinny reached across the table and caught her hand. The warmth of his touch, his tenderness, made her want to throw herself onto his lap.

“You didn’t tell them why I left,” she pointed out. “They thought it was something you did.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s none of their business.”

Again, he’d covered for her. “I still don’t deserve you,” she realized, blinking back tears of frustration.

“Don’t say that,” he insisted, sounding suddenly agitated. “I need you in my life. I can’t do this without you.”

His heartfelt words encouraged her. “I’ve been working really hard to be a wife you can be proud of,” she volunteered through a tight throat.

“I was already proud of you,” he protested.

“As a person, I mean—not just a newswoman. I only work part time now. I’ve been babysitting Ryan every morning, and I’m good with him. I really am, Vinny.”

“Of course you are. I never doubted that.”

“I go to church now, and I exercise, and I even volunteered at a homeless shelter—”

“Sweetheart, you’ve got nothin’ to prove to me,” he insisted, squeezing her hand harder. “I’ve always loved you for who you are. I don’t want you to change.”

Tears of relief rushed into her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Just promise me something,” he implored, his gaze delving deep into her eyes.

“Anything,” she agreed, dashing away the tear that slipped between her lashes.

“Promise me you won’t keep any secrets from me, ever again. There isn’t anything in the world that we can’t face together. I want to be able to protect you next time.”

“I promise,” she told him, nodding her understanding. He’d wanted to protect her and she hadn’t let him.

“So, you’ll come home with me tonight?” he asked with a pleading look that she had never been able to resist.

She felt herself grinning for the first time in weeks. The thought of sleeping in Vinny’s arms on their California king instead of Penny’s firm guest bed filled her with a heady longing to be there right now. She almost wished the cruise ship would turn around now, taking them back to the harbor so they could get home all the sooner.

“I want to come home,” she agreed, threading her fingers through his. “I’ve missed us so much.”

“I’ve missed us, too,” he said gruffly.

The waitress reappeared just then, bearing their main course. With Vinny distracted, Ophelia toed off one of her high-heeled shoes and slid a stocking-clad foot up the inside of his leg. Watching him fight to keep his composure as he shook out his napkin and reached for his fork made her ribs ache with contained laughter.

“Is this my Christmas gift?” he inquired after the waitress moved away. The glint in his dark eyes warned her that she was asking for trouble.

“M-hmm,” she confirmed, caressing his powerful inner thighs with her dexterous toes.

“I got a surprise for you, too.” He carved a bite out of his steak and chewed it carnivorously. “But it’s not what you think,” he added, intriguing her with that bit of information.

“It’s not?”

“It’s news,” he added waggling his black eyebrows, “that you’ll have to extort from me before the night is over.”

“Oh, I’m good at extorting information,” she purred as she stroked his thigh.

“I know you are, baby. Eat your food.” He gestured to her plate with his fork.

She took an obliging bite of steak and found it tender enough to melt in her mouth. When was the last time she had felt like eating? “Mmm, so, about this news,” she began, turning over thoughts in her head. “Might it have anything to do with your application to medical school?” She’d been dying to hear the verdict since he’d first applied for early consideration.

“God, you’re good.” He shook his head.

Her fork clattered from her hand onto her plate. “You got accepted?” she cried in delight. “To where? Which one?”

“MCV in Richmond.” It had been his first choice.

She had to clap a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream.

“There’s a caveat,” he warned her. “We’ll have to move this summer.” He sent her a searching look. “Which means you’ll have to quit your job and find a new one.”

Her momentary panic came and went. “No worries. Corruption exists in every city. I’m sure I can find a new job.”

“I’m sure you can, too,” he stated.

She considered the news as she chewed thoughtfully. Her career was not the only one that would change. “So this is it,” she marveled. “You’re actually going to leave the Teams.” She searched his expression for signs of regret.

“It’s time,” he said with certainty. Having enlisted at the tender age of 17, his two four-year terms had made a man out of him, guiding his decision to become a medical doctor.

The realization that she wouldn’t have to fear for his life, day in and day out, filled her with bottomless relief. Their future together had never looked brighter. If only they weren’t stranded on a boat now headed past the Norfolk Naval Base. Turning her head, she sought the stairs that gave access to the other levels.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” Vinny drawled. “I don’t think we could get that lucky twice.”

They’d found an empty pantry on their last cruise and made the best possible use of it.

“Besides,” he continued, pitching his voice lower, “tonight, I plan to take my time.” He leered. “I haven’t had you to myself in weeks.”

She arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Since when have you ever taken your time?” she quipped.

“Do I hear you complaining?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.”

The only thing in the world Ophelia could possibly have complained about at that moment was the speed at which their ship was moving. She could not wait to get home to their condo on Shore Drive to continue the life they’d started together five years ago.

Epilogue

‡

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” Ophelia greeted Vinny at the door in a red lace teddy, matching garters, black stockings, and five-inch heels.

“Jesus, God,” he exclaimed, running a stunned gaze down and up her body and shutting the door hastily behind him, lest every man on Shore Drive get a peek. “Sorry I’m late.” He thrust a bouquet of long-stemmed roses at her. “I had to run over an old man and steal these from him ’cause the store was all sold out,” he asserted.

She clucked her tongue. “Poor old man.” Accepting the bouquet, she took a long dreamy sniff. “They’re lovely, thank you. How was work?” she inquired, as he shrugged out of his winter BDU jacket.

“Busy,” he said tiredly. But suddenly, seeing her like this, he didn’t feel tired at all, even though he’d been on the job since five. He reached for his wife, unwilling to talk about work, when the smell of something burning hit the back of his throat. “What’s that smell?”

“Dinner,” she said with a shrug. But for once, instead of it seeming to bother her, she swiveled on her bare feet and sashayed ahead of him into their kitchen.

He realized with a rush of tenderness that, as always, she’d done her best to make the evening perfect. So what if she couldn’t cook. “Smells great,” he lied.

“The scallops didn’t come out the way I expected.” Running the rose stems under the faucet, she reached for scissors.

He stepped up behind her, searching for supportive words. “That’s okay. It’s the effort that counts. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“Doubtful,” she replied, snipping an inch off the stems and sticking the roses in the vase that sat on the windowsill.

Vinny put his hands on her bare shoulders and turned her around to face him. “And if you don’t ever get it right, then we’ll eat takeout every night,” he persisted. “As long as we’re together, I don’t care.”

Her gaze trekked to the table where he saw that she’d set it with their best china, a bottle of wine, and a lacey tablecloth. “I wanted to make it perfect,” she admitted.

“It is perfect.”

“Well, the salad turned out okay,” she said a little more brightly.

“I’m on a diet anyway.” He slid another appreciative gaze over her lingerie-clad body. “You want to eat now or later?”

“Later,” she said with a slow smile. “Right now I have a present to give you.”

Figuring he knew what kind of present she had in mind, Vinny scooped her up, ignoring her shriek of protest and carried her into the living room, where the drapes were drawn. A gas fire flickered warmly in the fireplace. She’d draped a fur throw over their L-shaped couch.

“Nice,” he commented, depositing her gently on top of it. His lips, like a heat seeking missile, closed unerringly over hers.

“Mmm. Wait,” she said against his mouth. One hand pushed against his shoulder, urging him off her. The other sank into his short, crisp hair, pulling him back for another sultry kiss.

“What do you want?” he asked, confused by her mixed signals.

“I mean I really have a gift to give you first. It’s right there on the end table.”

Peering over the arm of the couch, Vinny spied what looked like a box of chocolates wrapped in red cellophane and topped with a white bow. “You want me to open it now?” The dusky suggestion of her nipples peeking up at him proved distracting. “I’d rather unwrap you first,” he declared, lowering his head to lap at the firm nubs through the gauzy fabric.

“Later then,” she decided breathlessly.

At her encouragement, he slipped to his knees beside the couch and proceeded to divest her of her enticing garment, inch by tantalizing inch.

Many minutes later, Vinny collapsed along the length of the couch, pulled her into his arms, and flipped the throw over their naked bodies. He kissed her forehead. “God, I love our life together,” he mumbled.

She smiled like a cat that had eaten the canary. “I’m glad you said that.” She lifted her head off his shoulder and reached for the gift he’d left for later. “Open it now.”

What he’d thought was a box of chocolates proved too light. Bemused, Vinny tugged off the bow, lifted the lid, and peeked inside. A white plastic test strip with an unmistakable plus sign looked out at him from a bed of velvet. First surprise, then astonishment, then euphoria broke over him in successive waves, rendering him speechless.

“I’m six weeks pregnant,” Lia announced, her eyes dancing with joy. “Looks like we had our own Christmas miracle.”

“Holy shit.” Vinny had never doubted his ability to get Lia pregnant; he’d accomplished everything he’d ever set his sights on. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

“You’ll just be starting med school, and I’ll be working at a new job when the baby’s born,” she added, revealing a trace of her old self-doubt.

“Hey,” he admonished. “Just love our baby the way you love me, and it’ll all work out. There is nothing you and I can’t handle together. Remember?”

“I remember,” she said, brushing away happy tears.

After what had happened to her at Rawlings’ hands, she would never forget it.

“I love you, Lia.” He slid his arm beneath the throw and placed a large warm palm over her bare stomach, right over his child. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “This is the best Valentine’s Day present I could ever get.”

“Just wait until the birth,” she murmured, with a touch of wryness.

“That’ll be a pretty damn great gift, too.”

*

About the Author

Marliss Melton is the best-selling, award-winning author of a seven-book Navy SEALs series and the critically acclaimed Taskforce series, plus related novellas and short stories. Daughter of a foreign services officer and wife of a retired Navy veteran, Melton relies on her many contacts in various government agencies and in the Spec Ops community to pen realistic and heartfelt romantic suspense. Be sure to friend her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Goodreads. Get inspired with a weekly blog about heroes, qualify for monthly prizes, or sign up for a newsletter at www.marlissmelton.com.

SEAL Team 12 series (7 novels, 1 novella, 1 short story)

Taskforce series (3 novels)

Echo Platoon SEALs series (coming soon)

Holding On

Stephanie Tyler

Copyright © 2011 Stephanie Tyler

EPUB Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

About the Book

Jamie Michaels is an FBI Agent, married to a Navy SEAL…and about to give birth while her husband’s deployed.

Navy SEAL Chris Waldron’s been on some impossible missions before, but getting home in time for the birth of his son might prove to be the toughest—and most rewarding mission of all.

This is dedicated to all the men and women who’ve served—thank you.

A Quick Note from Stephanie

This story is set approximately six and a half months from the end of HOLD ON TIGHT. So many readers asked about what was happening with the Navy SEAL brothers from the HOLD series (HARD TO HOLD, TOO HOT TO HOLD, HOLD ON TIGHT), I thought this was the perfect opportunity to catch everyone up.

This story has also been featured in the anthology, SEAL of My Dreams.

“The only easy day was yesterday.”

—US NAVY SEAL saying

Chapter One

‡

Virginia Beach 2 days before Christmas

“We’re going to be delivering this baby,” she heard Nick say, and his brother’s answer was in typical Jake fashion, “You’ve got to be kidding me with that shit.”

Jamie Michaels looked up from the book she’d been halfheartedly reading and smiled. Jake was finally home after being gone a month, and it was nothing he wouldn’t say to her face, which was one of the many things she loved about him and Nick both.

“No offense, but I do not want to be the midwife,” Jake continued. “Dude, that’s Chris’s job, legally bound and all that crap.”

She shifted to catch sight of him. He wore his jungle cammies, evidence of paint still on his face and neck.

He’d rushed, and she was grateful. She’d be more so if she heard from Chris at all over the past month. Under normal circumstances, she’d be optimistically concerned, her FBI past clouded by the fact that she was waiting on the man she loved.

The nine months pregnant part of her was a hormonal mess she barely recognized, waiting for her Navy SEAL husband to come home. Nick, also a Navy SEAL, as was Jake, had been home with her for the past week, treating her like a live grenade. If one pregnant woman could bring terror to a SEAL, why weren’t they put to better use during wartime? She contemplated this as she heard Jake continue to mutter to himself as he walked through the house.

Earlier, she’d spoken with Jake’s wife, Isabelle, who was headed back to Virginia from visiting her mother in DC. Nick’s girlfriend, Kaylee would be there shortly as well, along with Jamie’s sister, PJ and Kenny, who was the father of the three SEALs. They would all be together for Christmas—the baby’s due date—except for the possibility of Saint and one other extremely important person.

Her husband. Her midwife. Legally bound and all that crap.

She was getting cranky again. As if Nick’s radar was in tune with her mood, he called from the kitchen, “Do you want more of that soothing tea stuff?”

“No,” she snapped. Never wanted tea again in her life. “Ice cream?”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“Never stopped you before,” he murmured.

“I heard that.”

“Meant you to.”

“Whoa.” Jake stopped in the doorway and gaped at her. “You’re goddamned huge.”

“Not smart,” Nick told him over his shoulder.

“It’s the truth,” she groaned. Her belly stuck out precariously from her slim frame. “Have you heard anything?”

Jake stared at her, his gray eyes stormy. Even if he had, he technically couldn’t share. Wouldn’t. She had to trust that everything was good and that she was in the more than capable hands of Chris’s brothers and the rest of the crew.

Since marrying Chris months earlier, she’d moved into the big house that had once been Kenny’s, where the men had grown up. There was plenty of space and it was rare that more than two of them were home at the same time.

That would change in a few hours.

“We all set for the storm?” Jake asked Nick now.

“Put in the generator last week,” Nick said.

“Going to be worse than they thought,” Jake continued.

“Hadn’t told her about that yet,” Nick muttered.

“Is that why you wouldn’t let me turn on the TV?” she asked him.

“Reading’s good for the baby,” Nick said.

She threw the book at his head and both men ducked.

“Not so good for you, brother,” Jake said. “Jamie, let’s go for a walk.”

She struggled up, refusing the men’s offers of help. Maybe Jake would tell her something about Chris outside. He kept a hand on her lower back as they walked. The streets were clear, the air cold—snow was a given.

They talked for a few minutes about the storm. Isabelle. Anything and everything but the topic she wanted to know most about.

“Somalia’s really a hot zone again,” Jake said and she froze for a second, but Jake’s hand pressed her and she kept moving.

Somalia. Of all places. But somewhere inside, she’d known, had watched the beginnings of the new uprising on the news with dread in her throat, had been aware of Nick steering the conversation—and the television stations—to happier things. Chick flicks.

She should’ve been suspicious when he didn’t bitch and moan about watching reruns of bad reality TV on a continuous loop over the past few days. But when it came right down to it, she was grateful for Chris’s brothers. She’d hold herself together—for Chris and for the baby.

Now, she paused against to look up at the sky, Jake at her side. She put her hands on the swell of her belly, remembering how Chris knelt and kissed it before he left that morning, two months earlier. How she’d prayed it was a training mission but knowing in her heart it wasn’t.

“It’s okay, baby boy. Daddy’s going to be here in time,” she whispered to the bump. “You just hang in there.”

Somali Republic, East Africa

Chief Petty Officer Chris Waldron waited, belly down on the top of a low-lying building in a decidedly unsafe zone. Keeping his eye on the goddamned prize. The doorway of the windowless dwelling where one of east Africa’s most wanted al Qaeda militants the SEALs had been sent to take out had hunkered down to wait out the latest U.S. Troop invasion.

They’d been in country for sixty-seven days and thirty-six hours on this particular op at last count. His CO, John ‘Saint’ St. James was next to him, taking his rest. They’d been spelling each other the entire time. Chris was the sniper, Saint his spotter, although either man was fully prepped to take this shot.

But Chris was a master sniper—the best of the best, they called him.

The men’s only movements had been head up, head down, even when the skies opened angrily to produce a warm rain that left the air sticky and full of godforsaken mosquitoes and tsetse flies.

“Son of bitch,” he muttered as a fly bit the shit out of his neck through the netting he wore. He was sweating, jonseing for a cigarette but keeping the rest of his mind purposely blank.

You’d go crazy if you didn’t, and he was already halfway there.

Chris checked his scope and then he froze, not from anything in his vision but from that familiar feeling that had been a part of him for as long as he could remember—some called it sixth sense, his father called it the sight and Jake called it that psychic Cajun bullshit and no matter what it was, it had saved Chris’s ass more time that he could count.

Now, it would do so again. Next to him, Saint’s head jerked up like he’d sensed the problem as well.

“Incoming,” Chris told him quietly. It wasn’t surprising—they’d learned of the Al Qaeda militant’s location from a Somalian warlord who was paid for his cooperation. Now, the warlord would no doubt start an attack so it wouldn’t look like he sold the operative out.

Everything in this part of the world was tricky, touch and go and no one could be trusted for very long. This trust lasted longer than most.

A short moment later, the series of explosions started, came from both sides of their building without actually harming it, tearing down the walls of one structure next to them and upending an old Land Rover on the other side.

It hadn’t been meant for them, but they weren’t the only ones with a bounty on the militant’s head. Still, if they didn’t pull out now, they’d be headed back to their makeshift base and command center under the line of direct fire.

If they pulled out now, Chris would lose the shot.

It took a second of eye contact between the men and the decision was made.

“Get the shot and we’re gone,” Saint said, and since it was his direct order, Chris would follow it. He settled back in behind the scope to wait for the militant to evacuate.

With the heat sensor, he could make out shapes through the covered window and the stone and mud mixed walls. But he’d prefer not to expect a bullet to go through stone. And they’d been told to get a clean shot and Chris wanted nothing less.

“He’s not coming out the front,” Saint mused.

“Front or back, doesn’t matter—I’ll still get him,” Chris muttered. His finger curled around the trigger as that hazy sense of right now shot through his brain and he fired seconds before the target turned to face the street for a brief moment. But those seconds of clarity for Chris were like an early warning system, much like the lag in a digital camera, which gave the bullet the precise path it needed.

The bullet landed cleanly, probably nearly silently, between the militant’s eyes.

Chris barely had a second to feel the satisfaction of a job well done when the explosions started, no doubt the US’s way of counteracting the warlord’s attack.

He took out two of the militant’s bodyguards cleanly while Saint, covering him, took out six more a little less so. In seconds, he and Saint were off the building that had been their home sweet home for two straight days and ran down side streets, weapons at the ready, stretching muscles screaming from hours of underuse.

His feet were all pins and needle for the first half mile but finally his entire body cooperated as the shelling and the blasts from overhead began. Caught between friendly and not so friendly fire, plus impending darkness made it imperative that they get the hell out of the danger zone.

Far more dangerous to find themselves cornered at night with barely any ammo and no supplies.

He’d done this more times than he cared to count, his body on autopilot while his brain measured every ounce of risk and danger.

Made split second decisions imperative to his and Saint’s safety. Not that Saint wasn’t doing the exact same thing. He fired a few rounds from his M-14, even as pain shot through his side, adrenaline keeping it tamped down so he could take the next shot. Took down two rebels and heard Saint firing from behind him.

They were partially surrounded with no extraction team. Running and stealth were the best options. They were getting blasted, even as they ran for cover, Saint shoving him down as they came to a low wall.

“Stay here, just a second,” Saint told him as they crouched down and let the chaos rein behind them. “How hard were you hit?”

Chris looked down at his side—the blood came through his cammy jacket, ran down his side although he was pretty sure the bullet hadn’t hit anything major. “I’ll live.”

“Good to fucking know. We’ll make a run down the alleys toward the base. If we can get close, they’ll pick us up.”

No choice. Like his old Master Chief used to say, pain is just weakness leaving the body. And Chris hoped it would leave really goddamned soon.

Chapter Two

‡

Saint muttered in Cajun French the entire time the doc stitched up his shoulder. Chris, who understood every word his CO said, lay on his side with a way bigger piece of him taken out, but he wasn’t telling Saint that without a running start.

“Any word?” Chris asked as the man checked his phone for the thousandth time.

“Just the same sit around and wait.”

He stared at the ceiling, the way he’d been for the last two hours since they’d arrived after being picked up a couple of miles from base by a truckload of Marines.

The wait would kill him this time if he let it, especially because he was so close to being homeward bound.

Except no helo was coming this way again for days. Normally, the prospect of spending Christmas OUTCONUS was perfect—had been since his mother died.

But not this year. He didn’t want to do that to Jamie.

She’d deal with it, he knew, but that wasn’t the point. She’d dealt with way too much in her life not to have this go right. She deserved it. But the little boy was breech—he could feel it. Happened sometime last week, and Jamie would find out about it today during the doctor’s appointment.

He’d insisted she visit traditional docs, would have whether or not he’d been home the entire pregnancy. He knew his brothers were back stateside, which was a comfort. Although they were adopted, they couldn’t be any closer if they were blood. Together from the age of fourteen, along with Chris’s mom and dad, they’d moved to Virginia and attempted to settle down.

Until his mom, Maggie, was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and died nine months later. All of them still felt that loss acutely.

Finally, the doc finished with Saint and headed toward Chris, who pulled the blood stained packing gauze from the wound and turned to give the doc a better angle with the stitches. “I could do this myself—” Chris started.

“Yeah, but then I’d be in the middle of this godforsaken country for nothing,” Doc drawled. He was from Mobile, Alabama, in for fifteen years—and probably until they forced him out.

Chris knew he wasn’t a lifer, but the teams had been good both to and for him.

The hospital was old with ancient looking equipment compared to what they had in Virginia and Germany. The sandstorm had blown through just after they’d arrived, trapping them there for hours. It was over now, but neither he nor Saint was crazy enough to drive around here in the dark unless it was absolutely necessary.

And unless there was a tank involved. He could definitely hot-wire a tank if he could find one.

“You all right?’ Saint’s Cajun drawl cut through the tension.

“Fucking fantastic,” Chris muttered.

There was silence for a long moment and then Saint said, “There’s a helo set to pick up some Deltas at 0400, about twenty miles from here. It’s our best bet.”

Chris glanced up at him. “Do they know we’re coming?”

“Reid says he’ll wait as long as they can.” Saint looked out the window. “A couple of Land Rovers out there look like they might make the trip.”

They would have to. Chris would make sure of it. “Well take it as far as it goes.”

*

The nightmare grabbed Jamie by the throat and refused to let go. It was six months ago and she was back outside the school, and PJ and Kevin were trapped inside by the man who’d made her life hell since she was little… they were trapped and she couldn’t help them. And Chris was nowhere to be found and she was completely panicked.

She woke with a start and grabbed her belly, as if to reassure herself that things on that front were fine. She hated that dream, more so because it was all real except for Chris being missing. He’d been the one to save them all that day and rescue her and PJ from a man who’d been trying to kill them their entire lives.

The man who’d adopted her and PJ, Kevin, had admitted that he’d been to blame for some of what had happened, indirectly, and while she and her sister had forgiven him, he still kept his distance, his guilt too great to overcome at the present time. He’d come around eventually, she knew that. And she’d stop having nightly reminders of the past, too.

“You don’t need to be saved,” she said firmly, out loud, trying to convince herself. “Baby boy, we’ll be fine if you come out now. Daddy will be home soon.”

The baby gave a resounding kick and then promptly fell asleep.

“Great. Stubborn.” Why she should be surprised at that, she had no idea. She also wondered how long Chris had known about the fact that their baby was now in breech position and unlikely to move back at this late date, considering how big he was.

Which meant C-section. But she knew Chris could do miraculous things with babies—she’d seen some evidence of it firsthand, had listened to stories from Jake and Nick about how Chris worked magic, like he was channeling his midwife mother, Maggie or something.

“Help me out here, Maggie.” She put her hands on her belly, tried to imagine the baby turning, but the little one seemed determined to sleep.

It was two days until Christmas. For the first time since Maggie died, there was a tree in the house. Nick had dragged it inside by himself, grumbling the entire time but it was a perfect fit.

It remained undecorated—that would be up to her and Izzy and Kaylee, Nick informed her darkly. But didn’t seem all that displeased overall.

Now, she got up, the baby sleeping and her still restless and unsettled from seeing her past played out in her nightly dreams. She wished she could blame the nightmares on not knowing where Chris was, but really, it was more her problem than any deployment or mission he was on.

Every deployed spouse or family member had the same worries, no matter the brave face they put on. Jamie had come into a ready-made family with four military personnel to worry about.

Her sister, PJ, was engaged to Chris’s CO, Saint. Isabelle and Jake married months earlier and Kaylee and Nick would no doubt just show up one day married. For now, they were happily discussing adoption and Chris told her he’d never seen either brother so happy.

PJ took a job piloting private jets for private contractors—it kept her in just enough danger to satisfy her and not enough to make Saint drag her home and chain her to the couch.

Jamie smiled, because she was guessing Chris felt the same about her. Desk work wasn’t exciting, but she could still help people by getting them comfortable with the process of witness protection before they were turned over to the US Marshals. After the baby was born, she’d continue that way because Chris’s job was enough danger for one small baby.

Chris had been away for a lot of her pregnancy. They Skyped whenever possible but she’d known the nature of his job as a SEAL even before she’d met him. She was part of the FBI and had spent the majority of her life in Witness Protection as well, up until several months earlier. She wasn’t a wuss by any means.

They’d fought about that very thing right before he’d gone away this last time, about how they both couldn’t be in the line of fire. She knew he was right. Having grown up in danger, she knew that better than anyone. But being told what to do was never her style. It made her bristle. She thought Chris knew that, but since all of this happened, it had been tough settling back into normal for all of them.

None of them had ever really had it. PJ seemed to be handling it the best of all of them, relishing in having a place of her own. Well, Saint’s own, but he didn’t care what PJ did as long as she remained happy.

And it appeared she reciprocated the favor to Saint, because according to Chris, the big, Louisiana born and bred CO hadn’t been this happy ever.

Neither had she, but it was hard not to be when surrounded by love and heroes.

Chapter Three

‡

There was no radio in the car but that didn’t stop Chris from singing “Rock of Ages” not as loudly as he would’ve liked to out of respect for Saint and the fact that they couldn’t afford to draw any extra attention to themselves.

He was so tense that his entire body ached and he wouldn’t relax until he touched down in Virginia.

You’re gonna have a kid—no more relaxing for you, anyway.

They’d made it twenty miles along precarious roads before the car started breaking down.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered, ran his hands along the steering wheel like he could cajole it into staying alive.

Didn’t work. After another several miles and a sputtering, smoking engine, the Land Rover finally gave up the ghost.

“Not like we didn’t expect it,” Saint said. “On foot.”

The two of them were out of the jacked up Land Rover and moving stealthily and fast along the side of the road, just out of view.

They could attempt to hitch, but in these early morning hours before the light of day, trusting any random vehicle along the way to get them there faster would be risky as hell.

The hit of his boots against the soft dust was the rhythm in his head for the next four miles. He’d had harder runs, with heavier gear and more danger but none of them meant anything close to what this one did.

He didn’t care about the sweat or the fact that his stitches stopped holding somewhere along mile two. Saint pushed him along at one point when Chris got lightheaded and then he got a second wind.

But they both stopped dead in their tracks when they heard the familiar rat-tat-tat of AK fire.

“That’s near the LZ,” Saint cursed, checked the SAT phone. “Battery’s dead.”

Chris listened for any other sounds over the din. “Which way would Reid go if this started?” And then he answered his own question like he knew it to be the truth. “North. There’s room for the helo.”

“The soldiers being there is just dumb luck.”

“For our sake, hope there’s a lot of that going around.”

As he finished, Saint was already headed back out to the road. “Come on, man!” he called and in seconds, Chris was scrambling into the back of a truck that barely slowed to let them on board.

Didn’t matter—they were traveling in the right direction and away from the gunfire.

Didn’t matter even when he heard the squawking as the sounds of shots receded, turned to discover they were riding with the chicken cages. It was crowded and it stank and Chris didn’t care. Saint did, muttered the entire next few miles that Chris and his child were going to owe him. That Jake and Nick already did, owed him more than any human could possibly hope to payback but Saint would make sure they did.

“We’re not stopping on this next stretch of road,” the passenger called back to them a little while later.

“We’ve got to get off here,” Saint said after they’d gone a decently quick five miles. Hell, they’d jumped from higher into worse and Chris followed Saint as they jumped and rolled away before they could be spotted by other cars.

“Six klicks,” Saint confirmed and they went down the hill and into the jungle until they finally hit a clearing big enough for a helo to land, which it had. The big bird sat silently and Chris sighed thankfully as he and Saint made their way toward it, signaling the pilot they were the men he’d been waiting for.

They boarded and the pilot started the engines. Take off would be quick and dirty and they headed toward the back before they were thrown.

“Maybe we have to start giving the SEALs more credit,” Reid called, his drawl apparent even as he yelled over the roar of the helo.

Chris shot him the finger and hunkered down on the floor to check out how much blood he was losing. It was freezing but he stripped down and let Delta’s medic deal with it while he slept or passed out or some combination of the two.

When he opened his eyes, it was time to refuel. “Phone?” he croaked.

“Dude, you have an infection,” the medic told him.

“Dude, I need the phone.”

Saint handed him one as the medic frowned and Chris dialed Jake’s number.

“Dude, where the hell are you? Because your wife pregnant is scarier than Saint,” Jake said in lieu of hello.

“Tell him I heard that,” Saint barked. “Comparing me to a pregnant woman.”

“Is she all right?” Chris asked, ignoring them both. “I’m six hours out.”

“She’s hanging in. Worried. A storm’s coming through.” Jake paused. “You hurt?”

“A little. I’ll be fine by the time I get there. Just keep her calm.”

“We’re all here for her, man. Just get your ass home safely.”

“Tell her—”

“I know what to tell her. Don’t get all goddamned sappy with me,” Jake said before hanging up, right on time, too, because the roar of the engine started a second later.

Chris handed Saint back the phone and let the medic do his thing with IVs and antibiotics. Slept a little and woke himself up when he realized he was dreaming about that night at the school when he killed a man to save PJ—and ultimately, Jamie. Because although he harbored no guilt over taking out a criminal, the scars Jamie would bear from the entire ordeal would never leave her. He could only hope to lessen them with time.

Chapter Four

‡

Jake hung up with Chris and paced until Isabelle’s car pulled into the driveway maybe ten minutes later. He was out the door in seconds, because that smile, that fucking smile of hers lit him up from the inside.

She hugged him tight, like she was saying, I’ll never let you go.

She wouldn’t, he was sure of it. And neither would he.

“Missed you,” she murmured against his neck. “Traffic was horrible.”

“I offered to come get you.”

“You couldn’t land.”

“Climbing the rope’s not that hard. I would’ve helped,” he chided lightly.

“The scary part is, I know you’re completely serious.” She threaded her hand in his. “How’s Jamie?”

“Freaked out and trying not to show it.” He let go of her so he could grab her bags. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

“Wait. I have something to tell you—about Africa.”

The memories that country brought back flooded his mind, some good, some painful. She’d been back to Africa for Doctors Without Borders once since they’d married. And it had been with him.

She’d agreed, since they really didn’t want to spend any more time apart than his job allowed, and they were going back again next year. Together.

He kept his voice neutral “What’s up?”

“We might have to cancel.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” he demanded, his hands on her like he could feel what the problem was. But she took his wrists and put his palms on her belly.

It took him about five seconds to catch on. He breathed in sharply and then again because he felt a little dizzy. And then he met her eyes and Isabelle’s floodgates opened.

“I had no idea. I’m three months along and it’s twins. Girls. Never had them in my family and your know I’m on the pill…”

“Hold up.” Jake stared at her, one hand reaching up to brush away a few stray tears. And this was a woman who rarely cried. “Twin girls?”

“Yes.”

“Are they sure?”

“Pretty sure, yes.”

“God help me,” he muttered as the earth shifted beneath his feet.

“Jake, I’m really freaked out.”

Join the club, baby. But before he could stop it, a huge smile spread over his face. “We’re going to be fine. We’ve handled so much worse than this. This is the good stuff—and we deserve it.”

He hugged her and her arms threaded around his shoulders—she was laughing, relief evident in her voice. “You’re not upset—really?”

“Not at all.” He kissed her as the snow started to fall around them, until all he wanted to do was get her alone. Picked her up as she protested, carried her through the house and up to the second floor, because he could tell his brothers and Jamie later.

But right now, it was just for the two of them.

*

“Storm’s coming,” Kenny murmured to himself as he looked up at the night sky and tried not to connect with Chris. It was too hard on both of them, especially when his son was deployed.

The psychic Cajun bullshit, as Jake deemed it years ago, came in handy at times. This was not one of them.

All the missions Chris went on were important, but this one… it made Kenny’s heart heavy. He wasn’t sure if it was the time of year or the impending birth but dammit, his son needed to be here, for so many reasons.

“Maggie, you’ve got to help them,” he said quietly. “Have to help me, too.”

The wound of her loss was still so fresh. Watching his sons find the loves of their lives brought him more comfort than he’d ever hoped to have.

“The baby’s breech,” Jamie said softly from behind him. “I just came from an ultrasound. Maybe I should—”

“Give him time,” Kenny told her, turning to put his arm around her shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen to that sweet bebe.”

She smiled when he slipped into Cajun cadence.

“Chris was breech—shouldn’t be surprised,” Kenny continued. “Maggie and her momma, they fixed it all good.”

He didn’t tell her that Maggie nearly died giving birth. Obviously, Chris had wisely chosen to spare Jamie that information as well.

But Jamie was insistent on a home birth, wanted Chris to deliver the baby. He’d tried to steer her toward a hospital birth without scaring her, but she would not be deterred.

Of course, that was before the baby was breech. Now, he knew he would have to convince her to get to the hospital at the first signs of labor if his son didn’t arrive in time.

*

Jamie and Kenny ended up sitting in the kitchen for a while—he heated her up some of the gumbo he’d made earlier, which she loved, and being connected to Chris like this made everything all right for that little while.

“Hey, anyone here?” PJ called after letting herself into the house.”

“Kitchen!” Jamie called back.

Her sister walked in and dumped her bag before hugging both her and Kenny. “I brought extra clothes, because I don’t think I should leave you during the storm.”

“Good idea,” Kenny told her. “We have plenty of room.”

“Hopefully you have a lot of food, too,” Kaylee said as she walked into the room, Nick behind her, holding onto her hand.

“Always,” Kenny said as he hugged her too. And then Jake came in, with Izzy by his side and yes, the house was filling up. It wasn’t exactly a typical Christmas, but hers growing up had always been fairly quiet.

PJ looked at Jake. “Have you heard anything?”

“They’re on their way home, I think.”

“What does that mean?”

“He and Saint left the hospital—”

“Why were they in the hospital?” Jamie and PJ demanded in unison.

“And they’re fine,” Jake finished.

“Because you say so?” Jamie asked.

“Yes,” Jake said coolly.

“Can we get back to the hospital thing?” PJ prompted.

“No. I’ve said too much already.”

“Now what?”

“You were in the military, so you should recognize this part. We wait.”

PJ snorted. Jamie felt her belly tighten into what she hoped was only one of those Braxton Hicks contractions. “I’m going to go lay down for a while.”

“You okay?” PJ asked and Jamie nodded, avoiding Kenny’s face. She didn’t want to upset him any more than he already was, and so she went into the rooms she and Chris had been using on the first floor, more like a private suite with a living area and separate bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her legs a little so she could stare at her swollen feet.

She’d done research on the Internet about how to turn the baby naturally—there were several techniques, including acupuncture—and she’d try any of them.

They’re on their way home, I think.

Chapter Five

‡

Jamie couldn’t sleep hours later, found herself pacing restlessly as if on guard. It had started to snow hours before and it was a heavy, blanketing blizzard with diagonal icy hail that scratched the windows and rattled the house with its fierce winds.

She rubbed her hand on the glass door that led out to the back terrace as if that could help her see through the snow. She started a little, blinked, then stared a little harder as she spotted something—someone—moving through the blowing snow.

A mirage. A fantastic, tall mirage, his jungle print cammies cutting a path through the white stuff. As he got closer, she saw the blood and dirt and once he came close enough, paint on his face.

She was the one who remained frozen because was so sure this was a dream. The best kind.

And then, after what seemed like hours, he was at the glass door. He saw her, cocked his head as if waiting for her to realize this was all very real and finally—finally—he opened the door and stepped inside.

She took several steps back to let him in. Cold air enveloped her, refreshing, like some kind of renewal. And then he shut the door behind him and said, “Hey.”

“You look—”

“Wet,” he finished and she laughed softly, not wanting to break the spell. She reached up instead and uncovered his head first, the wool cap giving way to reveal the ever-present green bandanna he wrapped his hair in every time he was on a mission. “I walked ten miles in the snow, uphill. And don’t think this kid will ever hear the end of it.”

His different color eyes stood out in stark contrast to his very tanned skin. She reached out and stroked his cheek, just to make sure he was real. “You just got in?”

“About an hour ago. Roads are impassable.”

“Not for you.”

“Not for you,” he countered as her fingers skittered over the buttons on his jacket before skimming the icy material off him, letting it falls to the floor.

He stood patiently, this familiar act becoming something of a ritual between them. It was like she had to catalogue everything when he came back—every smile, every scratch—and he let her, without complaint.

Her pace quickened as she touched the cold skin on his biceps. She needed to get him warm, wanted him skin to skin with her. At this moment, that was her only mission and the only one that mattered.

She pulled the shirt over his head next, his dogtags clinking and coming to rest on his bare chest, and saw where the blood had come from. The gauze that covered his size was large, but clean.

“It’s nothing,” he told her and she didn’t press even as she continued to memorize the other, numerous bruises and scrapes littering his upper body. He wore them as if they were nothing. He bent and took off his boots, but only because she couldn’t. And then she helped him off with his pants next—he eased them off and laid them on a chair carefully because they were heavy with some of his gear.

“Rough trip home?”

“Not so bad,” he said.

“Why are there chicken feathers coming out of your pocket?”

“Just be grateful the walk home in the storm washed away the smell.”

“Most of it,” she teased.

“Fuck, you look beautiful,” he murmured, a hand on her swollen belly.

“Big.”

“Gorgeous,” he corrected, and he meant it.

“Let me clean you off,” she murmured. “Come on.”

He followed her to the bathroom, sat on the edge of the bathtub while she wet a washcloth and wiped the paint and dirt from his face gently, like she was uncovering the real him again, like she did every time he came back.

It would never be that easy—coming home rarely was for these men, she’d learned—but this helped connect them again.

He let her finish with his face and neck, both knowing he needed more than a washcloth, but he wasn’t complaining. He’d stripped completely before he sat down and it was warm enough to where he’d stopped shivering.

“Thanks,” he said when she was done, and she cupped his clean face in her hands as time dropped away and it was their first time together on the plane or the second in Africa before things went bad and it all blended together in a wonderful way. Their history.

He made her sentimental; she’d never been that way before. “Why don’t you take a nice, hot shower and then—”

“Later,” he said, the way she’d hoped he would before standing and pulling her close.

And then she couldn’t wait—had never wanted anyone more. No words were necessary—he was on her the way he’d been from day one. Logistics were of course trickier but the man and his body seemed to bend in ways that were superhuman. Chris’s hands were weapons all their own—the fact that they roamed her body with such gentle and purposeful need made it all the better. And when he took her, all was right in the world again. His mouth covered her skin, his kisses hot against her neck as he trailed his tongue in a way that made her squirm with pleasure. She exploded, then melted and he was far from done.

She hadn’t known how badly she’d needed this. Beyond the sex, she’d simply needed to be in his arms.

*

Jamie held him the way she always did, an embrace that had a meaning all its own. Her touch had always said more than she’d allowed herself to verbalize, especially in the beginning. She was different now, but he still relied on the old ways to reconnect.

Coming back was hard. He felt different—was different—but this was the same, with Jamie’s soft skin and the scents that were uniquely hers, the way she moaned under his touch. The way she let go like she never had with anyone, that was all his. Her nails scored his shoulders as he shuddered against her, finally letting himself go after making sure she was more than satisfied.

You’re home, he told himself. In more ways than one, in Jamie’s arms, he was.

*

Chris massaged Jamie’s belly as they lay there, naked, sated. It was Christmas morning now, but she didn’t mention that, or his birthday, because neither were particularly happy memories.

Today, with them all together, they’d try to change that. But his mind was somewhere else, his hand splayed out now like he was feeling the shape of the baby inside of her.

“Can you turn him?” she asked.

“It’s going to hurt you if I try, Chere. What about just going to the hospital?”

“You would try with any other random woman, but not me?” she asked and then narrowed her eyes. “And why aren’t I in labor? Why doesn’t your crazy labor mojo work on me?”

“Hush, bebe,” he told her with a smile, bent his head to her belly and began to sing—it was a lullaby in Cajun French he’d sung to her belly before, but this time it was all for the little boy. He held his hands so they hovered just above her bared skin in a Rieke formation, like he’d told her his momma taught him when she was a midwife.

She closed her eyes and listened to his voice as everything flashed in her mind. Their first meeting, the downed plane where this baby boy was conceived, against all odds, and they’d survived despite all of it. The hospital in Djibouti where she’d been scared to see him again. The school in Brooklyn where he’d saved her and PJ in a standoff with a killer, ending the nightmare they’d been living with since they were young.

Everything had worked out so well, despite the many times she’d thought they never, ever would. She had to believe now, too, because everything Chris did seemed to be touched by a certain kind of magic she’d never known existed.

All she needed to do was believe. Concentrate. Felt Chris begin the actual manipulating of her belly as the life inside of her began to shift.

It hurt. The pain was almost to the point of unbearable. But she squeezed her eyes tight and she dealt with the pain and she just breathed. Because, in the end, that’s what life was really all about—breathing and holding on.

She was doing both.

“Jamie, it’s okay—you can open your eyes.”

“Did it work?” she asked.

“I think so. His head is here.” He put her hand on her exposed skin and she felt the bump, where it was supposed to be. Except now, she felt a lot of pressure. “That’s normal.”

“Normal, but not exactly fun.”

“It’s going to happen any time now, Jamie.”

“Let’s try to get through Christmas first. Your dad cooked so much and Nick brought in the tree,” she said. “I hope that’s okay. I just thought—”

“It’s more than okay.”

There was a knock at the outer door, and Jamie slid a shirt on as Chris pulled on sweats and padded to answer it. She was surprised they’d waited this long to check—and she heard Saint’s voice in the background as well.

Chris hadn’t walked here alone.

“Wait a minute, you mean the one woman not affected by your baby mojo crap is your own wife?” Jake was demanding as she walked into the other room. He pointed to her. “She’s like a hundred years pregnant for Christsakes. Help her.”

“Jake, leave him alone,” Isabelle told him, took his hand. “And as long as we’re not in any rush to labor, I have some news.”

“Oh my God,” Jamie said before Isabelle could speak again and she and Kaylee were hugging her, because they just simply knew.

“’Bout time,” Chris told Jake, who snorted, but the pride was evident in his brother’s face. Nick’s eyes were wet, his voice rough when he said, “That’s good stuff, man. Really good.”

Kenny’s voice boomed out, “And I, for one, can’t wait for payback. Because, my boys, you are going to be her bitch for many, many years to come.”

Chapter Six

‡

It was the nightmare again, but even though it was as scary as ever, it soon turned around. Because Chris was there, right there next to her, with his rifle and his sniping magic and he was saving the day… saving her…

“Can you please breathe?”

A voice—Chris’s voice, in her dream. She turned and saw him, and that’s when the contraction hit.

“You’ve been in labor for half an hour,” he said.

“I guess this is some kind of delayed reaction,” she grumbled after the worst of the pain hit her.

Chris wasn’t listening, instead rummaged through the black doctor’s bag his team had brought him as a gag gift. Of course, that was before they’d realized that his delivering of babies was more than a one-time thing.

It was Christmas Day and Chris’s birthday, too. She’d come in here to rest before dinner and was now in full-blown labor if the look on Chris’s face was any indication after he did a quick check.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Jake said he’d get us to the hospital if we need to go—he’s got a truck with chains and he and Nick are plowing now, just in case.”

“Good. That will help with the karma,” she murmured.

“You’ve also got me.” She opened her eyes and saw the man the brothers called doc standing by the bedside. “I owed him one.” He nodded in Chris’s direction.

As she watched, he set up a portable fetal monitor and ultrasound.

“So far, it’s all looking good. He’s not in any distress, and he stayed turned,” doc said. “Are you going to deliver your baby now?”

Chris cocked his head at her and she smiled. “Go ahead. Don’t break your record now.”

*

In the end, Chris wouldn’t be able to say he remembered much. As usual, it was a blur of making sure mom and baby were both okay during what became an almost frighteningly fast birth. Jamie had some choice words for him as she couldn’t take much in the way of pain meds since she was so close, but for the most part, she was stoic.

He and Isabelle and Doc worked together to make it as stress free as they could. And when the time came, he called Jake and Nick in, because, in cases like this, they were typically his wingmen, the ones who would hold and clean the baby while Chris attended to the mom.

He didn’t see a reason to change things now. And when his boy was delivered and took his first breath and then howled, he put him on Jamie’s chest for a few moments and passed the baby to Jake first. Watched for a few seconds as his brother cradled his nephew gently, cleaned him and checked him with a quick, silent efficiency Chris had always admired, but never more so than now.

“He’s pretty damned perfect,” Jake said, his voice rough with emotion. He passed the baby to Nick who teared up but didn’t say a word, just kissed the baby on the forehead and smiled before bringing him back to Jamie.

Yeah, things were exactly the way they should be.

“She looks good,” Doc told Chris when all was said and done, and everyone left them alone for a few minutes.

“You have to bring your dad in,” she told him.

“You won’t see that baby again tonight.”

She laughed softly as the baby snored against her. “Love you.”

“Love you,” he murmured back.

“Guess you have to share your birthday with Christmas and your son,” she pointed out.

“Not a bad deal. Not a bad deal at all.”

*

Kenny held his grandson, looking at the snow, grateful for the full circles life brought him.

“Lucien, you’re a lucky boy,” he said softly, and at the sound of the good Cajun name, the baby’s eyes fluttered and opened, stared at him like they both shared some deep, dark secret.

The men in his family passed down the sight to the males only. Luc or Lucky, as they would no doubt end up calling the boy, would no doubt have it, the way Kenny’s own great-grandfather, also called Lucky, did.

Lucky would also have family. Lots of it. And that had gotten all of them to hell and back.

He enjoyed watching Isabelle and Jake together, knowing their girls would soon be coming, and Kaylee and Nick, committed and content. Kenny had no doubt they’d come home one day and causally announce they’d married in a quick civil ceremony on impulse. That suited them—they both had that impatience and dislike of conventions and rules.

As for him, he held the next great love of his life in his hands.

They had a new reason to celebrate Christmas, and he was so sure Maggie would be pleased as anything.

*

About the Author

New York Times Bestselling author Stephanie Tyler was a Secondary Ed teacher for grades ranging from middle school to college while she pursued a PhD in English Literature, all while trying to convince herself that she would get back to her dream of writing as a career eventually. When her daughter was born with serious medical problems, Stephanie found inspiration in the fighter her child proved to be—and found her own way back to writing. She’s published in a variety of genres, including romantic suspense, new adult and paranormal romance, and she also co-writes erotic paranormal romance under the name Sydney Croft. She lives in New York with her husband, her kids and her crazy Weimaraner, Gus, and they’re all cool with the fact that she’s permanently on deadline.

You can contact Stephanie through her website: www.StephanieTyler.com for more information on the Hold series and her other books, for news on upcoming titles and more!

Mutiny’s Bounty

Delilah Devlin

Copyright © 2014 Delilah Devlin

EPUB Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Chapter One

‡

“Sweetheart, the sharks are down there.” Ice blue eyes wrinkled at the corners as the man bending over the side of the olive-green skiff pointed a finger into the clear blue depths beneath her.

Did he think she’d missed seeing the swarm, or flock, or whatever the hell you called a group of freaking sharks? They were busy ripping into the grisly bundle of fish parts and guts the dive crew had dropped to the sea floor in a wire basket—which was why she’d hurried over here.

“Exactly! Like any sane person would purposely swim with sharks?” She let her voice frag, then crimped her lips to keep from saying anything else that made her sound like she was twelve. Lace McElhannon was glad she hadn’t given him a snarky wag of her head while she’d said it. But seriously, who would blame her for being snotty? Great White sharks were swimming thirty feet beneath her toes and he wasn’t doing anything about it!

When her yacht-mates had blithely donned their snorkels and goggles then fell backward into the water without a care, she’d only hesitated for a moment. How scary could it be? And the dive team had seemed professional, assuring them the spotters’ job was to watch for any trouble, and they would swoop in to the rescue or drop fresh bait to distract the sharks.

Not until she’d glanced down and seen a dozen huge, sleek bodies—with rows and rows of jagged teeth—circling had she’d freaked out, leaving her ship-mates bobbing on the surface like live bait while she’d struck out toward the skiff.

Fighting for breath, Lace dog-paddled, then swam faster against a rising wave that sent her closer to the skiff’s hull. Salty water splashed into her mouth and she gulped without thinking, coughing and spitting, knowing she looked like an idiot, but her poor swimming skills didn’t have a thing to do with her breathless state. Fear froze her body, making expanding her lungs impossible.

Yes, she’d paid to swim with sharks. Or at least she’d paid for the plane ticket to get here to the Bahamas. But maybe she shouldn’t have watched Susan’s Shark Week DVDs beforehand. Her friend, and partner at the travel agency, had tried to dissuade her from choosing this particular adventure vacation, knowing she’d only ever swum in a heated pool. But who could pass up a week in the Bahamas? She’d had visions of watching the excitement through the window of a glass-bottom boat. But now was not the time to wonder why she hadn’t paid closer attention to Jake Halloran’s description of his “little ocean jaunt.”

“You have to help me up,” she said, sliding up her goggles to let the smirking hunk see her terror-stricken eyes. “I have a cramp.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. “We’re not here to rescue clients from their own bad decisions.”

“Make an exception.” She pushed the mouthpiece of her snorkel to the side so he could see the determination thinning her lips.

“Better pull her up, Dex,” another voice above her drawled. “The way she’s splashing, those whites’ll think she’s a fish in distress.”

Dex. So that was his name. But she didn’t have time to savor the mystery that had taunted her since she’d boarded the Clementine three days ago for one of Halloran’s daily jaunts. Despite the amenities aboard the 160-foot motorized luxury yacht behind her, she’d been much more interested in this man than the rock-climbing wall near the upper deck. On their first day aboard the yacht, he’d been introduced as the commander of the guard team providing security for the high-end adventure vacation. Unfortunately, he spent most of his time on the much smaller and faster escort boat which accompanied them while they sailed. She’d really hoped for a chance to get to know him. Everything about him had attracted her—his size, his muscled frame, his icy-cool gaze that landed like a hot laser, making her melt.

Funny how that calculating stare didn’t have the same effect when she was scared.

A rope ladder rolled over the side of the skiff and she swam for it, reaching out and gripping the first rung, doing her best to haul herself up. But she’d been swimming for a good while and her limbs felt like lead weights. She dangled on the rope, half in-half out of the water, catching her breath and staring down to make sure her toes were curled in case the big fishes thought they were sausages. But she’d also watched Jaws. Sharks could lunge upward. Her breath caught in her throat, and she cast a wild glance above her.

A thickly muscled arm shot downward. A steel grip wrapped around one wrist and pulled her up, not releasing until she lay draped over the side of the boat.

She tried to get a leg up and over the side, not caring her ass was on display, but didn’t finish the motion because strong hands gripped her waist and lifted her, setting her on her feet.

She swayed, not having to exaggerate her sigh of relief or the weakness in her knees to get a chance to lean against the firm, hard body she’d been ogling for days. “You saved me,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

His head shook side to side, his chin rubbing her hair. “You weren’t in any danger. Or wouldn’t have been if you’d managed to remain calm. The sharks really are more interested in chum than you.”

Lace shivered and snuggled closer, reminded she wore the teensiest bikini in her bikini wardrobe and she was getting him soaking wet. She’d hoped for a moment like this when she’d seen him in the powerful little skiff, his dark tee hugging well-muscled arms and a lean torso, lightweight black cargo pants doing nothing to hide the thickness of his sturdy thighs, dark sunglasses giving him an added, irresistible air of danger. And he wore combat boots in a boat. How sexy was that?

Her friend Maya had just such a man, someone who’d put himself in the line of fire to keep her friend safe. And why couldn’t she find a hero of her own? Maybe because she was on vacation and only had three days left in the Bahamas? But a lot could happen in three days if a girl wasn’t too fussy about appearing a little desperate, and she and her fellow passengers were heading back to the villa that night for a cozy dinner party.

A throat cleared.

The boat really was small, and three other hotties sat nearby with their gazes trained on her and Dex. But the one who’d dared interrupt them wore a dazzling smile and gave her a wicked waggle of his blond eyebrows.

“Ma’am, you might enjoy watching the sharks from the swimming platform. Stand in the spotter’s cage and look down. The water’s so clear you’ll feel like they’re closer than they are, but you’ll be safe.”

Lace wasn’t interested in the sharks swarming in the water. She liked the one standing so close the heat from his body warmed her head to toe.

But Dex only cupped her elbows, and she’d given him ample opportunity and implicit permission to touch so much more.

Now that the quaking had stopped, she felt her face grow hot. Lace drew away and began to offer him a small smile of apology, but his slitted gaze made a quick trip down her body. Oh. Maybe she hadn’t blown this first encounter after all. Could she use that hint of attraction to wrangle an invitation for drinks after they reached the villa’s dock?

She licked her lips and pouted them. “I guess I should be getting back to my boat…”

“No more shivers?” His voice was deep and slightly husky.

“Only where it counts,” she whispered, arching a brow.

His mouth twitched, but he set her back, his hand trailing from her arms ever so subtly.

Her breath hitched, and she was glad she was already soaking wet because her body was warming, and the evidence of her desire could have been embarrassing.

Dex shot a glance over his shoulder. “Bring the boat around to the platform.”

The engine fired. The escort boat made a slow circle of the yacht, Dex’s large hand at the small of her back to keep her steady. When they bumped softly against the rubberized edge of the platform, he held her hand, not letting it go until she’d stepped safely up onto the lower deck platform. He dropped his hand and began to turn.

Lace reached across and tapped his shoulder.

His face slowly turned, his jaw jutting to reveal a stern, hard line.

Good Lord, that mean look made her hot. “Can I offer you a drink…later…seeing as you saved my life?”

Soft laughter came from his equally well-built friend. Blond brows rose over dreamy brown eyes, and he gave her a slight shake of his head.

She wasn’t deterred. Instead, she steadied her gaze on the dark-haired man with the glacier eyes. “I promise I don’t bite.”

“We’ll see,” he said, then turned away from the platform.

His firm voice didn’t give her an ounce of hope he was serious. Sighing, she turned, giving him a look that conveyed her disappointment, and then walked away. So maybe the sway of her bottom was anything but natural, but since she was wearing a thong, she knew exactly where his gaze went.

Lace wasn’t giving up. That attitude wasn’t in her DNA. When she wanted something, she went after it. And she wanted him. Yes, every one of his security team members was equally lovely, but he’d challenged her. She flipped back her red hair, but the effect was spoiled as water-soaked tendrils slapped her shoulder.

The sound of the skiff’s motor roaring into life again gave her Dex’s direction. A plan began to form.

One of the crisply uniformed crewmen stepped forward with a towel. “Is there anything else I can bring you, miss?”

Grateful for the distraction, she gave the crewman a smile. “A martini. Very dry. And I want a chaise moved to the high deck.” The skiff was currently bobbing beside the starboard side of the yacht. She’d drink her favorite cocktail atop the upper deck platform—very slowly—and make sure Dex knew she was watching him. And maybe she’d take off her top—to catch the late afternoon rays. None of the wives or girlfriends of the wealthy men who’d actually paid for the trip—she’d been given hers gratis—had been the least bit shy about stripping. So, she wouldn’t be breaching any of the boat’s rules.

The potent drink would give her a little Dutch courage. And maybe he’d think the blush that washed over her skin was solely due to too much sun.

Dexter Haygood didn’t have long to wait before he caught flak.

“Mmm-mm. Don’t know how you passed that up,” Justin Walsh, the team’s combat medic, said, his face reflecting disappointment in his friend.

Seated at the side of the skiff, Hank Jones, their machine-gunner, shook his head. Always silent, the big man’s expression spoke his disgust. His dark face was screwed up in a frown.

Dex snorted. “I’m not part of the amenities.”

“Halloran gives us free rein of the villa. And he didn’t say a thing about keeping away from the passengers. I think he likes giving them the thrill of rubbing elbows with ex-SEALs. And…we have our own cabanas.” Justin gave another irascible waggle of his brows. “You could invite her for a little some-some and no one would bat an eye.”

“We’re here to do a job,” Dex said, feeling annoyed that he hadn’t managed to hide his attraction to the redhead from his team. Now he’d never hear the end of their teasing. Not something he was accustomed to, as he rarely protected beautiful women in his line of work.

Which made him wonder again what the hell he was doing on this assignment. Protecting the Clementine’s passengers shouldn’t have required more than a couple of onboard guards, which Halloran employed regularly, not a four-man combat-ready rapid response team in an armed escort boat, and a second on-the-ground team patrolling the estate. And the machine gun stowed under a bench in the boat rather than secured in the gun turret underscored the fact this wasn’t their usual mission.

“Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” Justin gave him another cheeky grin. “This job is a vacation. We’re in the Caribbean, not the Indian Ocean. Maybe the powers that be thought we could use a little R&R.”

From his position behind the wheel of the powerful boat, Johnny Turtoro gave Dex a pointed glance. “Yeah, boss. You’d think you’d be happy we aren’t taking fire from Somali pirates.”

Dex frowned. When had his team gotten so chummy they thought they could chime in on his love life? “There’s more money on that boat than on any transport barge traveling the Strait of Malacca. It’s target rich. Halloran is right to be cautious.”

“Whatever. I think you’re smitten.” Justin lifted his head, staring at the raised upper deck of the Clementine. His jaw sagged for a second, and then his grin stretched, white teeth flashing. “Yo, Dex. Think she could wear any less?”

Dex shot a glance upward and sucked in sharp breath.

The redhead sat on the edge of a chaise next to the low rail of the boat, a martini glass in one hand, dark glasses shading her gorgeous green eyes. However, her cat-like smile wasn’t what held his attention.

He cursed under his breath, knowing he was going to cave and do the one thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t—get tangled up with a rich girl, someone whose expectations he’d never meet no matter how hard he tried.

But the expanse of ivory skin, too pale to ever tan, angered him. Not because the minx was giving his buddies a show, but because she was risking a sunburn on the prettiest set of breasts he’d ever seen. Nicely rounded. Firm. Nipples a pale, rosy pink.

And he’d already had an eyeful of her long legs and firm ass. His fingers still tingled from the lingering urge to fill his hands with those sexy curves. “Dammit,” he said under his breath, but not softly enough.

The team erupted in soft chuckles.

He swiveled his head to give them all a hot glare. “That’ll be enough. Tuturo,” he bit off the word, “take the boat around the other side.”

With his crew’s light-hearted complaints ringing in his ears, Dex turned, fighting a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her unsubtle efforts to get under his skin had worked. She’d gotten to him.

Red hair, eyes as green as soft Kentucky grass. A body made for hot loving.

She wasn’t Lenore, the general’s daughter he’d dated on the sly who’d liked to run her hands over muscles newly honed by weeks of BUD/S training, but who’d been engaged all the while to her daddy’s Aide-de-Camp. And he wasn’t in his twenties and lovesick for a pretty girl.

After one last glance at the nearly nude beauty giving him a wave, he made himself a promise. He’d have her once. Then he’d walk away. One night ought to be enough to smooth his rough edges and prove to her the last thing she wanted was some ex-SEAL who didn’t have the time or inclination to be anyone’s play-date. This didn’t have to be a big thing. Just a hook-up with a bored beauty.

So why in hell was his body tightening with excitement? Why was his chest expanding, dragging in sea air that somehow felt fresher than it had minutes ago? The sun beat down, but its merciless heat wasn’t what warmed him. The thought of plundering her long, lithe, pale body made him feel like a pirate. A marauder. And he didn’t like the satisfaction that fanciful vision gave him. Dex liked to be in control. Liked to take the lead, be the one to initiate contact and the one to fade away when things got sticky. Instinct told him the redhead might harbor those same inclinations. And he didn’t like the thought she believed she was leading him in this dance.

As the skiff cut a path through the waves to the other side, away from the tempting view of the woman he’d fished from the sea, he rocked his head side-to-side, easing the tension knotting his neck. He’d have her, then he’d concentrate on his mission, the job he was being paid the big bucks to do—however unlikely it was that danger might find them here in paradise.

Chapter Two

‡

“I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy our little adventure today.”

Lace forced a carefree smile as she glanced at the dive master, Troy Bennett. He was a handsome man—a slightly aging surfer with sun-bleached brown hair that was a tad long for his angular face. Dressed in a pale blue Hawaiian shirt and beige linen trousers, Troy wore clothing that fit in well with the casual attire worn by the wealthier guests mingling on Halloran’s veranda.

“I panicked. I’ll admit that. The water was so clear the sharks looked like they were swimming closer than they were.” She shuddered delicately, but instantly regretted the motion when his gaze was pulled downward to the deep cleavage of her tangerine silk halter dress.

The halves of the halter top bared the sides of her breasts, and the silk was thin enough the tips of her nipples dragged against the fabric. She’d foregone wearing a bra, hoping to draw another man’s gaze, but he had yet to arrive at the intimate gathering on their host’s wide, teak-wood veranda.

Drinks before dinner, the invitation slipped beneath the door of her private cabana had read. She’d arrived early, eager to thank her rescuer, but now she hoped he wasn’t avoiding her after she’d all but thrown herself at him.

“Will you be ready to dare the cage tomorrow?” Troy took a sip of his bourbon.

“Experiencing a cage dive is why I’m here.” Somehow, she’d get past her fear to give it a try. Just once. “I’d like to be able to describe it to my clients.”

His gaze held, and his brows dipped. “Clients?”

“I’m a travel agent.” At the narrowing of his eyes, she said, “Oh, did you think I was a paying guest?” She smiled. “My agency recently added adventure-style vacations, and we’ve gotten buzz from the news coverage of one of my partner’s recent adventures. We have more business now than we can handle. Everyone’s eager to try an extreme vacation. Mr. Halloran opened this adventure to me because he’s thinking about buying a fleet of yachts for high-end shark-diving cruises here.” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Like he needs another venture, but he’s very excited about the possibility. He says it’s his part of paying it forward to the locals who’ve been so welcoming since he moved to the island.”

Troy’s expression grew neutral, his smile a little stiff. “So you’re a travel agent. That’s nice. If you’ll excuse me, I need a word with our host.” He moved away, walking toward Mr. Halloran, but paused beside the wealthiest of their guests, a young entrepreneur who’d made his fortune in video games.

Obviously, he’d dismissed her the moment he realized she wasn’t one of the big fishes. Or maybe Halloran hadn’t shared his plans for the business, and he was attempting to hide the fact he was miffed. Was Troy worried he’d have competition? She arched a brow and took a sip of her tall mojito, letting those thoughts flit away as she stared out at the long strip of private beach her benefactor owned. This little corner of the island with its natural lagoon was paradise on earth—lushly tropical, with palm trees bordering the sand and calm blue sea for as far as could be seen. The sun dipped on the horizon, a huge orange ball amid lavender wisping clouds. The air was muggy and hot, but the fans circling above them from the porch rafters kept the temperature bearable. What must living like this 24/7 be like? Would one grow inured? Somehow, she didn’t think she would ever take this lifestyle for granted.

Footsteps on the polished teak planks behind her had her stiffening. The tread was heavy, coming straight for her. Without turning, she knew who stood right behind her because he held still while the heat of his body and his musky, masculine scent wrapped around her. A smell that fired every one of her hormones.

“You should have used more sunscreen,” came a deep, graveled murmur right beside her ear.

Warmth flooded her body. Her eyelids dipped, just for a second, while she enjoyed the way her heart skipped a beat and her blood surged. Nothing was more delicious than the chase—even if she wasn’t sure who was doing the chasing.

She drew a deep breath before turning slowly to meet the tall man’s gaze, careful not to bump against him. Not because she didn’t want to rub against him like a cat, but her nipples were already spiking hard, and she didn’t necessarily want the entire room to know of her intense attraction. That would be unprofessional.

Although she teetered on tall, strappy sandals, she still had to tilt her head to meet his cool gaze. “No one was around to lend me a hand with the sun block.”

His gaze dropped to her cleavage, and he arched a dark, knowing brow. “And what about the parts you could reach?”

“The sun made me tingle,” she said huskily, then licked her bottom lip as she eyed the dark polo shirt that stretched across his broad chest and the dark trousers that didn’t mask his muscular thighs or the nicely bulging knot at their juncture.

His lips twitched at the corners. “Are you always that reckless?”

“I’m not reckless,” she said with little toss of her head. This time, her hair fluttered around her face, and then settled on her shoulders. “But I like my little pleasures, and I never let anything get in the way of what I want.”

His mouth pursed and his eyelids dipped. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

A dark brow arched. “Now that’s a damn shame.”

The sexy undertones of their conversation caused her belly to tighten. “Shall we?” she whispered, glancing at him flirtatiously from beneath the fringe of her lashes.

The moment she issued her bold invitation, he took over—sliding her glass from her fingers to set it on waiting tray, then cupping her elbow to lead her through the veranda’s French doors and straight down the corridor leading to a side door and the flagstone path outside. When he halted in front of her cabana, he stared, an unspoken question in his eyes.

One last chance for her to change her mind. Instead, she reached for the key she’d put on a golden chain around her neck because she hadn’t wanted to carry a purse. She lifted the chain over her hair, the action somehow making her feel as though she’d surrendered control. The shivers were back. That hint of danger surrounding him kept her slightly breathless.

Without a word, Dex held out his hand.

She pooled the chain and key in the center of it.

His fingers curled around them, and then he reached out, sliding a hand around her and drawing her closer.

Her breasts met his chest, and she sucked in a deep breath, lifting her head, inviting his kiss.

His mouth descended, pressing against hers, and then it moved, dragging against her lips, pulling in small circular motions until she slanted her head to follow the ebb and flow of his movements and stood on her tiptoes to deepen the luxurious splendor of this first intimate act.

She liked kisses. Light ones. Flirty ones. Ones given without expectations. Ones inviting more. They could be sweet or a prelude to something deliciously naughty. Playful foreplay. But kissing had never affected her like this. Dark, delicious…carnal with a capital C.

And then he bit her lower lip.

She gasped, and his tongue swept inside, plunging her deeper into The Carnal Zone. The way he held her, rock-hard arms enclosing her, bold hands molding her curves, his firm lips forcing hers open to receive him… Good Lord, it was just a kiss…but it wasn’t. The act was so sexual. Every bit as intimate as fucking. A plundering of the first order.

Her hands crept up to his shoulders, and her nails dug deep to cling to his body as her knees weakened.

And then the intimacy was over before she’d registered the taste of him—a lingering hint of whiskey and mint. By the time he drew back, he’d stolen her breath and her composure. She pushed back her hair and gave him a trembling smile, wondering if she’d bitten off more than she could chew with this man.

He unlocked the door then guided her quickly inside.

Needing to get her bearings, she glanced around at the comfortable overstuffed and polished furnishings, the shining teak floors. She’d left on a lamp on an end table, but otherwise, dusk was settling, deepening shadows in the room’s corners.

The moment they were locked inside, she braced for his touch, but he moved away, heading to the window overlooking the long white strip of beach only steps away from her front porch. Already, moonlight silvered the crests of the rolling waves.

But he wasn’t interested in the view outside. He leaned his butt against the sill, his glance sweeping slowly down her body. “Perhaps we should start with introductions.”

Her eyes widened, and her tongue touched her swollen bottom lip. “You don’t know my name?”

“I know everyone’s name associated with this junket. But the exchange of names is polite, don’t you think?”

He wants polite? “I’m Lace McElhannon. I’m from Chicago.”

“Lace, I’m Dexter Haygood. I’m from San Diego, but I haven’t been there in years.”

After a long pause, she blurted, “I understand you were a SEAL.”

He nodded. “I was. Until a couple of years ago when I was hired by a company that provides protection to ships, and now I guess, yachts,” he said, with a wry curl of his lips.

“This must seem like a frivolous assignment, guarding rich men and their wives.”

“I understand the need.”

She gave a nod, searching for another question so she could hear his rough voice. The tone of which made need swirl in her belly. “So…protection for ships. Are you talking protection against pirates for transport ships?”

“Yes.”

Anyone who’d watched the news in recent years knew just how dangerous his job was. Before she could stop it, a shiver ran over her skin. “But you’re off the clock right now?”

“My men are patrolling the dock and the grounds. As are Halloran’s own men.”

“So we’re safe. From pirates,” she said, arching a brow.

He shrugged. “Not many operate in these waters, and they prefer to conduct their business at sea. Ships…yachts are more vulnerable. Access to an estate like this calls for more manpower. And escape can be trickier.” His head dipped in a short nod. “So yes, we’re safe here.”

“Good to know.” She lifted her chin. “We shouldn’t worry about interruptions then. Are we done with introductions?”

Not moving, he studied her, his gaze narrowing on her face. “You should know something about me.”

She held her breath, something in his stillness telling her she’d better pay attention to what he said.

“I’m not polite,” he said softly. “And I get to be a little rough.”

Sucking in a quick breath, she took a step closer. “I’m not so hung up on manners, Dex. And I’m not fragile.”

“I’m safe for you to be with.”

“Safe?” She shook her head. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“You know what I mean. I’m clean, Lace.”

“So am I.” She shrugged, echoing his casual movement although casual was the last thing she felt. Wired, hungry—now, there were two emotions she could seriously relate to. “Doesn’t mean you’re going without. Condoms are in the bedside table…just so you know.”

His lips quirked. “I wasn’t angling to go uncloaked. I just thought you should know you don’t have to worry. Also, once we start, I won’t ask for a thing. I won’t allow any modesty.”

She took one more step, halting a foot in front of him. With him seated, for once she had the advantage of height. “Thought I made it clear this afternoon, I’m not shy.”

His gaze dropped to her chest. “Then you won’t have a problem untying the knot at the back of your neck and letting that scrap of silk drop.”

The way his voice rasped caused quivers to ripple down her abdomen. Her knees wobbled, but she reached slowly behind her neck, keeping her gaze locked steady with his ice-blue eyes, and slipped the knot free. For a couple seconds, she held the fabric against her chest as it loosened, not out of modesty, but to tease, then slowly pushed it downward, exposing her breasts.

“Drop it to the floor.”

When she spotted his eyebrows drawing together in a frown, her body shuddered. Electricity sparked; blood surged. Gooseflesh prickled on her skin, and her nipples dimpled. If just the razor edge of his voice could do this to her, what reactions would he wrest when his hard hands roamed her body?

She pushed the dress down over her hips and held still. The flare of his nostrils and the intensity of his sharp gaze as it fell on her bare mound reassured her that forgoing any undergarments had been the right choice.

“Turn around.”

With her arms at her sides, she turned as gracefully as she could manage on rubbery legs. A moment later, a callused palm cupped one side of her bottom, lightly smoothing over her skin before it lifted to touch the other side. Tingles erupted where he touched her.

“Turn again.”

She complied, facing him, knowing her expression gave away her desire for him to continue touching her.

This time, she watched as he lifted a breast, hefting its weight. A thumb scraped her nipple, and she gasped, unable to hold back even the slightest reaction. She was intensely aroused, every nerve firing, waiting…

With a casual move, he slid a hand into a pocket of his trousers and pulled out a length of black silk, skinnier than a tie. Then he stood and walked around her. Hands glided down her arms. Fingers cinched around her wrists and brought them together.

She drew a deep breath, but didn’t complain as he bound her wrists behind her. Her posture changed, breasts thrust forward, and the firm globes hardened.

Then, cupping her hands, he led her to the soft linen-covered sofa. “Bend over it while I undress.”

“Why can’t I watch?”

A hand tapped her bottom. “Am I in charge?” he whispered by her ear.

Lace closed her eyes for a second. “Yes.” For now.

“That’s good.” Then he moved away.

Since she didn’t hear any rustling of clothing, she guessed he waited for her to obey. Frowning, she bent forward, draping herself over the top of the sofa. Then because she was a little annoyed with herself for being this meek, she scuffed apart her heels, widening her stance to expose her sex. She wasn’t some submissive mouse. Sure, she liked a guy to take charge, but only because she loved the challenge of bucking against his authority.

A soft chuckle sounded behind her, and his steps moved away.

The swish of curtains reminded her the windows had been open throughout her little striptease. She groaned. “Do you think anyone saw?”

“Why are you worried? You’re not modest.”

“I’m also not usually moved to public displays.”

“Anyone passing by wouldn’t have seen much more than you were eager to display on the Clementine today.”

Her pulse raced. “You’re an ass.”

“I’m not nice. I thought we already covered that.”

But he was closer now. A clink sounded as a belt buckle hit the floor. More soft shuffling sounds indicated he was stripping. How she wished she could turn and have a look. It wasn’t fair. He’d seen every inch of her body, but he denied her the tiniest peek at his.

“Don’t be impatient.”

Had he heard her huff? “I’m not. I’m bored.”

Fingers stroked her sex.

Her pussy tightened.

“No, you’re not.” His fingers slid away.

She sagged forward, burrowing her face into the seat cushion. He was driving her crazy. Just one more thing she found irresistible about the cranky man. Too bad they were unlikely to ever cross paths again. A man like this might be worth keeping.

Dex stood naked behind the woman who squirmed so impatiently on the sofa. He raised his hand and licked the fingers he’d glided in her moisture. His nostrils flared, taking in her musky, sea-fresh scent and he nearly groaned. She smelled like heaven.

Lace McElhannon was exactly the sort of partner he liked. Sass-mouthed and stubborn. So beautiful she made his teeth ache. Funny and smart.

And completely out of reach. A pity this party wasn’t lasting longer. His plan to enjoy her company for just one night was revealed for the lie it had always been. After only a few minutes together, he wanted so much more.

He’d been hard since his first sight of her slender back, bared by the little orange number that had held the attention of every man on the veranda. And she’d been oblivious to her appeal. The changes in the way she held herself as he’d approached, her shoulders going from relaxed to tense, told him she’d been waiting…for him. Why he’d cooled his heels so long, he didn’t know. He’d dressed, then wondered if he should go at all. But in the end, the picture of her seated on the upper deck with her naked breasts, set so high and ripe, had drawn him outside.

Every argument he’d given himself flew right out the window the moment he’d found her being chatted up by that sleaze, Troy Bennett. Jealousy had burned through him. The instant the other man moved away, Dex had strode in to stake his claim. His shoulders had bunched; his fists had curled. He’d had to fight to relax before he said a word to draw her attention.

But Halloran hadn’t missed Dex’s dilemma. The sly old bastard had given him a grin and a two-fingered salute, knowing full well he’d have two less people at his dining table that evening.

Halloran wasn’t the usual sort of rich guy. He’d made his money gambling big on investments, losing millions, gaining billions. Never seeming to sweat the market, always wearing a cocky grin. This adventure was typical of his nature. He’d invited wealthy friends as well as strangers to join him, offering a chance, not to show off his wealth, but to widen his circle of friends. And he’d made them pay for the privilege, donating all the funds to local charities, but his thinking was they’d appreciate his invitation more if they were invested.

Maybe he was right.

When Dex and his team had arrived before the guests, Halloran spent the evening wining and dining them, asking so many questions about their pasts, so easily pushing past barriers military men tended to erect to keep their secrets buried, that Dex had admired his flair.

The host’s interest was genuine. He didn’t care that they didn’t own much more than the gear they carried. He was respectful of their skills and experiences. When their own private quarters proved to be just as luxurious as any of the guests, Dex’s respect had grown even more.

And Dex knew Halloran wasn’t worried about what might be happening between a hardened warrior and a beautiful young woman. Dex was free to explore this attraction. No division existed between staff and guest, just an invitation to pleasure—so long as the work still got done.

Before he’d sought out Lace, Dex had made sure the patrols were set, and that the men watching the security cameras set around the estate were rested and alert. Now, he was free to play. With Lace’s sweet round ass pointed his way, he knew exactly where he wanted to start.

His cock was full, heavy. But he ruthlessly ignored his own arousal. Striding toward her, he reached out, trailing a hand over her back, curving a palm around her side, noting the supple muscle beneath her silky flesh. At the flare of her hips, he raised his other hand and cupped the notches at both sides, already imagining gripping her just like this while he took her from behind, holding her steady as he plowed her slippery depths.

But there was so much more to explore. He knelt and lifted one of her feet, sliding off the tall sandal and then lifting her foot to rub his cheek against her tender instep. Her gasp and muffled giggle made him smile. He turned to her other foot and stripped it, then slid both hands up the backs of her thighs, his thumbs massaging the inner curves, moving upward until he slid them into the crevices framing her engorged pussy.

Her breaths were short, shuddering through her tense body. She waited for him to make a move. To take her with his mouth. And because that was exactly his intention, he bent toward her, inhaling her fragrant sex before he opened his mouth and pulled her thickened outer lips inside to suck.

Her legs trembled, making him smile again. He stroked her sex with his tongue, giving her a flat swipe from her clit, across the center of her folds, and then higher, continuing until he touched her small rosette with the tip of his tongue.

Her reaction was perfect—a slight jerk, a tightening of her bottom and long, toned legs. She was unaccustomed to being touched there, and he couldn’t wait to sweep past any inhibitions she might harbor. But for now, he centered his attention on the ripening bud he’d detected at the bottom of her folds.

Pursing his lips, he sucked her clit, pulling on it, tapping it with his tongue while he drew harder and harder, reveling in the breathy moans he elicited as he tortured her with his targeted nips and laps and tugs. Her thighs widened, the muscles of her ass bunched, and when he felt the throbbing pulse against his mouth, he thrust two fingers inside her channel, pleased to find her drenched.

But he didn’t want her coming this way. Not their first time. He sat back on his haunches, dragging in deep breaths, slowing his heart and fighting his desire to lunge upward and plow deep inside her.

She wanted it. Expected it. And that was precisely why he wouldn’t.

Dex stood and gripped her shoulders, helping her to stand and holding her against his chest.

She shivered, rubbing like a kitten against his skin, her head thrown back. Her bound hands curled upward and gripped his balls.

A challenge he chose to ignore. But need dove deep in his gut.

Smiling, he reached around and cupped her breasts, lightly tweaking the nipples. He bent and kissed her cheek. “I want a soft bed beneath you before I take you.”

“You know where it is,” she said, her breathy whisper too soft to be sassy.

Something he was sure annoyed her. Dex plucked at the silk bow he’d tied, freeing her hands. “My rules. Whatever I ask.”

Her head turned, her shoulders sliding sideways across his chest so she could meet his gaze. Her eyes were narrowed. “And if I disobey?”

God, he hoped she would, but he gave her a thin smile. “Then there will be punishment.”

“And that’s supposed to keep me in line?” Her mouth stretched into a wide grin. “I like you, Dexter Haygood.”

Not the response he’d expected. And one that made his chest expand. “I like you, too,” he said, which was a truth he realized as soon as he said the words. “But I still expect obedience.”

“Why? Do you really want women to cater to your every kink?”

Dexter dropped his head to hide his wide grin and gave her shoulder a kiss. “Try me. I’ve given you fair warning.”

When he raised his head, her expression was naked. Filled with desire and a little fear. She wanted him. Wanted everything he’d bring. And she needed him to strip away her inhibitions, leave her without an artifice to hide behind. Make her vulnerable.

Something he craved to do, but worried that doing so would open his own heart a little wider than he was willing. But his cock throbbed. Her body melted against his. Damn, if it wasn’t already too late to keep an emotional distance between them.

He turned her inside his arms, cupped her butt and drew her upward.

Her legs rose, encircling his hips with a strong grip. Her arms came around his shoulders. He didn’t dare kiss her again now, even though her swollen mouth was tempting, or he’d fuck her where he stood.

Instead, he turned toward the short hallway and strode to her bedroom. With every step, his body grew harder. He’d have her now. Take her in every way he’d imagined since he’d first seen her aboard the Clementine. He hoped she was ready.

Chapter Three

‡

With his long, hard shaft rubbing against her open sex with every step, Lace felt her anticipation ratcheting upward one stride at a time. She had yet to see his entire body, but the feel of his thickness trapped between their bodies was enough to make her swoon. Or maybe it was the fact she was panting, her breaths coming fast and shallow while her body trembled with excitement.

Everything he said, everything he did, tightened the tension coiled inside her belly. Even the way he held his jaw as he marched—taut, hard. Sweet Jesus, she knew he was as turned on as she was, just as desperate to fuck. But would he make them both wait…again, stretching out foreplay until they were both at a fever pitch? Or would he toss her down and have at it? Because hey, they were both more than ready. Either way, she didn’t care.

Oh, that was a lie. She wanted him up inside her fast. Wanted him churning his hips to whip up some sexy cream. Cripes, she didn’t usually think of sex like she was the star of a porno movie, but with him, she wanted to rise to whatever challenge he issued—be the centerfold in his dreams when he jerked off.

Which meant she had to fight him going too fast. She needed to make an impression, make sure she was the best he ever had. She narrowed her eyes, searching for a response in his. But for a girl who didn’t usually think a lot when she was doing it, planning any sort of strategy to seduce was impossible, as scattered as her thoughts were now. Her need for an orgasm was just too great.

And he’d already reached her bedroom, was approaching her soft bed. He halted beside it, and she lowered her legs. But her knees were weak, her muscles loose.

She dropped down, kneeling in front of him. With her face level with the object of her lust, she followed her instincts, reaching up to cup his balls again and give them a gentle tug. The hard stones were the size of ripe plums, his love stick was thick with a slight upward curve, reddened, and with a tracery of blue veins.

As pretty and perfect as any dildo in her pleasure chest.

She leaned closer and rubbed her cheek up one side of his shaft and down the other, all the while breathing deeply to inhale his spicy, masculine musk.

When his fingers dug into her scalp to make her rise, she resisted, sticking out her tongue to lap at his balls, then quickly pulling one into her mouth where she laved it with her tongue, over and over, her lips surrounding it to pull and caress. No man she’d ever been with could resist a hungry woman bent on giving him the blowjob of his life.

For a moment, his fingers eased, then dug deeper, forcing her to inch upward.

Which she was happy to do. She opened her mouth, rubbing her lips and tongue along the side of his cock before she curled her fingers around his shaft and dragged it downward. When she rubbed the cap of his dick against her wet mouth, she knew she had him because he gave a deep, growly groan.

She almost smiled, but quickly locked her lips around him and sucked. A drop of pre-come smeared on her tongue and she swallowed, enjoying the salty flavor while noting the tension of his fingers and his muscled thighs crowding closer. She sank deep, taking him to the back of her throat while her fingers ringed the base of his cock. She liked his girth, his length. Her heart did a little happy dance because she’d never been with a man this well-made.

Fingers pinched her earlobe and twisted.

She opened her jaw and leaned away, her head canting to ease the sting. “Ouch.”

“Enough, Lace. I want you on the bed.”

He let go of her ear, and she rubbed it, giving him a scowl—not because he’d really hurt her—but again, to show that while she might follow his order, she wasn’t without a little backbone.

His expression didn’t change. If anything, his eyes grew colder, narrowing.

Was he counting in his head? Seeing how long she took to scurry up on the mattress? She moved deliberately slowly, rising fluidly and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Besides, anticipation kept her revved. Then she sat at the edge of the high mattress and scooted backward, trying not to rush even though she couldn’t wait for what came next.

Dex was faster. He crawled quickly onto the mattress, pushed her to her back, and came down atop her, covering her from her shoulders to her feet, his strong legs pinning her as neatly as the weight of his torso.

She couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. His cock pulsed between them. Still, she kept her breaths even, her chin tilted in defiance.

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured, his mouth hovering just above hers.

“Anything you want, I’m guessing. It’s not like I can fight you,” she said it innocently, eyes wide, but then the corners of her mouth curved. “Anything, so long as you slide this up inside me.” She rolled her hips to rub his cock.

He grunted. “I’d like nothing better, but then, you’d win. And I can’t let that happen.”

She arched a brow. “You do know sex doesn’t have to be a game, right? That we can both be winners.”

He shook his head. “I don’t see sex as a game, but you’ve been bucking me since we met. You consider it a challenge, getting a guy exactly where you want, to do exactly what you want.”

“Not true,” she whispered. “Not what I’m after, at all.”

“Then tell me.” His voice softened. “Remember, no pride. No modesty. It’s just you and me.”

She licked her lips, then drew a short breath, turning her head so he couldn’t see her eyes. Because hadn’t he already seen too much? “I want you to make me.”

“Make you what?”

“Make me obey. Let me fight, but never let me win.”

After a long pause, he asked, “Forcibly?”

The heated air from his single word brushed her cheek, and she nodded, holding her breath. His neutral tone hadn’t given her a clue what he was thinking. Her request wasn’t something she’d ever revealed to another man: her need to be taken. Because then, wouldn’t the guy think she wanted to be dominated in every other part of her life and their relationship? With Dex, she knew he was physically strong enough to give her what she needed, but they only had three days, and then they’d never see each other again. Her wish was a safe one. She could ask this and not fear him taking her over her life. Something she’d experienced with a boyfriend in college and would never risk again, thank you very much.

A finger traced a line across her cheek then rubbed her bottom lip. “Look at me.”

Stealing herself, she turned and met his gaze, surprised at the smoky heat she met.

“If you give this…power… to me, I won’t let you change your mind. If you get scared, you’ll have to work through it.”

She nodded, excitement causing her heart to thud inside her chest. “You don’t mind? Don’t think I’m crazy?”

“We all have our fantasies, Lace. I have a few of my own.” And then he kissed her.

A soft, hot brand on her mouth. Over too soon because he was moving away, kneeling beside her as he raked her body with a hot glance.

His hard gaze swung back to her eyes. “Open your legs.”

Sensing he’d already started the game, she shook her head and clenched her legs together, getting her elbows under her body and scooting toward the headboard.

She didn’t even have time to gasp before he was on her, his hands gripping her ankles and spreading them.

He quickly inserted his knees between hers to hold her open.

A gasp escaped. She jackknifed up and shoved both hands at his chest.

But he manacled her wrists and pushed them behind her back, holding them there with one hand, keeping her still while he put his free hand between her legs and cupped her mound. “This is mine, Lace. However I want.”

She panted, shaking her torso, trying to free her hands, panic mixed with arousal—so heady a mix she felt as though her heart might explode. “Let me go.”

He shook his head, one corner of his mouth curling upward, lending him a menacing look.

Fuck, she loved that look. Knew it meant he was into this game. But she sensed he’d never hurt her, and he hadn’t so far. She was restrained, but his fingers didn’t bite her wrists. Her awkward position, sitting with her legs spread around him, made it impossible for her to move away while he cupped her. She was wet. Soaking his palm.

Then suddenly she was free, but only because he wanted to toss her onto her belly. He pulled up her hips and dragged a pillow over to push under her. When she tried to rise up, he planted a hand in the middle of her back and forced down her shoulders. Again, he caught her hands behind her and held them easily in one of his own.

Bent over and starting to sweat, her ass high, Lace wasn’t so sure she liked this game anymore. He was all over her, then moving away, restraining her so easily she couldn’t help but be irked. “Let me go, Dex.”

“Or what? What are you going to do, Lace?”

“I’ll scream the house down. Someone will come running.” And wouldn’t that be a pretty picture? She nibbled on her lower lip.

“They’re my team,” he said, tracing a finger along her back. “They might breach the door, but once they see I have things under control, they’ll be out of here. They know me. Know I wouldn’t give you anything you don’t really want.”

“I’m tired of this game.”

“But it’s not a game, is it?”

He said it so softly she was caught off guard. He was right. This wasn’t a game. Something inside her still wanted this desperately.

“Go ahead and cry and scream, but I’m on this, Lace. I won’t give into you.”

Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. She jerked her arms, but his hold was firm. She tried to scoot sideways on her knees, but he had those bracketed too with his hairy thighs.

And she’d only managed to widen her stance. Her pussy was open. Cool air wafted against it. She couldn’t help clenching against the pleasure.

Dex shifted behind her. Fingers stroked between her folds, circling her entrance then thrusting two digits inside. He curled them slightly and rubbed the front of her channel.

The moment he found her G-spot, she made a sound—a rasping sigh. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

His fingers stilled as a wash of her arousal flooded her channel. Then he swirled them, adding the pleasurable scrape of his thumb against her clit.

Lord, she was going to come like this. Her hands held behind her back, him working her pleasure spots with confident strokes of his fingers while she lay helpless, pinned to the mattress.

And she loved it. She made noises like she didn’t, whimpering and gasping, interspersing a few faint No’s. She struggled to tug her hands from his, but she didn’t really want to be freed. Everything he was doing was magic. Just right. Her pussy gave his fingers rhythmic clasps. Her thighs trembled. Her core tightened. She was close to the most explosive orgasm she’d ever had. She just knew it.

And then he released her hands and moved away.

Her eyes popped open and she pushed up, glancing behind her shoulder to give him a hot glare rather than blurting her outrage. What could she say? I was almost there? From the amount of moisture she’d leaked onto his hand, he already knew that. But then she noted the plastic packet in his hands. She watched while he tore it open, and then rolled the snug sheath down his length.

When he’d finished, he lifted a brow. “Turn over. Now.”

Ooh, so authoritative. She opened her mouth, then clamped it tight. Instead, the look she gave him said, Make me.

He shook his head once, sharply. “You already know I can. If you want me, turn now.”

Her lids dropped to form angry slits. Just for show. She dragged the pillow out from under her hips and tossed it with enough force, something outside her peripheral vision shattered. Then she flipped over to her back, her knees rising as she slammed her feet against the mattress.

He tsked then gripped his cock, giving himself a stroke, drawing her gaze downward to watch. He was huge, the shaft red, the cap broad and blunt. “Raise your hips,” he commanded.

She hesitated, but only for a moment, and then did as he said, her thighs quivering.

Dex edged closer on his knees, still gripping himself, his hand moving to the base of his cock, and then he slapped her open sex with his length. Thuddy taps sounded against her moist folds, reinforcing her image of his strength and power.

Her pussy clenched, making a lewdly moist sound.

“Do not touch me. And don’t lift your legs.”

He held her gaze until she nodded. Her breath caught in her throat.

“And do not come until I say so.” And then his large hand moved up the thick column. He dragged it down to place it at her entrance. He bent over her, his torso supported on his arms.

With so much space between them, she had an uninhibited view of his cock as he slowly pushed inside. The sight was pure torture. She couldn’t help clenching against him because she was primed to accept his thrust, her body ready to pull him inside. When that fat, blunt head pushed against her entrance, her folds and intimate muscles prevented him.

“Use your fingers. Spread that pussy for me.”

With both hands stretching downward, she parted her folds around him, tugging them apart and up to expose her clit to the air. When she glanced at his face again, she caught him staring at her sex and spotted his clenched jaw. Oddly, she’d never felt sexier or more feminine as she spread herself, inviting his intrusion.

He moved so slowly, every action was noted, senses and emotions given time to process.

He pushed again, and the cap breached her, stretching her. He sank an inch then pulled out.

So full. She felt the ridge around his cap caressing her entrance. “Dex… Please more.”

He gave a rough shake of his head, his features darkening, tightening as though he fought his own impulse to plunge. Instead, he began shallow pushes and pulls that juiced up her channel, but didn’t satisfy.

The action was maddening. He was maddening.

“Bastard,” she whispered, lowering her bottom to the bed. There was so much of him to enjoy, why was he teasing? They both wanted this. She slicked her finger over her clit, sending a shudder through her body.

Dex pulled free and leaned over her, settling his cock against her, riding her slit. “Every rebellion deserves a punishment.”

Her mouth dried. Her eyes filled. But she remained silent, slipping her hands from between their bodies and placing them on the bed beside her head, signaling her surrender.

“Too late,” he whispered. Dex moved down her body until his head was level with her breasts. Her nipples were already tightly beaded, but he didn’t touch them. Instead, he kissed and sucked the soft flesh around her areolas.

His touches made his point—that pleasure was his to give…or not. She held still, barely breathing, waiting for him to capture her nipples, excited but also afraid because the tension in her core had wound so tightly she might come if he drew hard enough.

But he nuzzled the underside of her breast, bit the fleshy sides, then he glanced at her face.

She wondered what her expression betrayed, because he gave her a look filled with promise, a tender reassurance. And then he dove for one nipple, toggling the tip with his tongue before latching his lips around her darkened areola and sucking.

He drew hard, just as she’d feared, and her knees pulled up, hugging his torso. “No, Dex. Stop. Please, please.” Not because she didn’t love it, but because she was so aroused she might shatter like the vase she’d just broken.

After a final tug, he let go of the nipple and moved across to the other one, this time chewing gently on the ripened bud and tugging it until it lengthened. “Your breasts are beautiful, Lace. But you know that. That’s why you bared them.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, feeling shame for the first time for having tempted him in that blatant way. She’d done it out of childish rebellion because he’d spurned her. “But I wanted you.”

“Do you always get what you want?” He leaned back, blowing air across her wet tip.

Her breasts hardened, and she pushed them up, inviting his mouth to continue pleasuring them. “No. But I’m stubborn. It’s a fault, I know, but you made me angry.”

“I didn’t like that every man on my boat was ogling these beauties,” he said roughly. “Because I knew I wouldn’t have cared if it had been anyone else but you.”

Jealousy? Her breath caught at his admission. “I wasn’t offering myself to anyone but you.”

Dex kissed her nipple then came down on his elbows.

His weight and heat enveloped her. A comfort she didn’t expect.

“We have different lives, Lace. And just three days.”

Her eyes stung, but she gave him a smile. “We’ll make them count.”

His teeth flashed. “Then let’s start now.” Once again, he pushed up on his arms. The tip of his cock eased inside her, and then thrust deeper than it had been before. With gentle strokes, he came deeper and deeper still.

Lace began to quiver, her belly jumping, her legs shaking. She ignored his previous stricture about not touching him, because now, she had to. With a light touch, she slid her arms around his back and feathered her fingertips up and down his deeply indented spine. She felt every ripple, every tense and release motion. And deep inside, she felt her own body easing around him in lush, wet invitation.

He stretched her, but not uncomfortably so. He filled her in ways that weren’t entirely physical. He stole her breaths, or rather, he commanded them, every gentle inward drive causing her to inhale, to drag air deep into her lungs.

When, at last, he was fully seated, their bodies meshing below, he paused. His eyes closed for a moment, and she understood what he was feeling. Connection. Intimacy. Closeness to another human being.

Emotions she’d never allowed, but with him were so natural. Why that should be, she didn’t know. But she wrapped her arms around him and held him.

His sigh pushed against her chest, and he gave her a crooked smile. “I have you now.”

She returned his grin. “Seems you do.” She kept silent the wish that they could linger in the moment. But she felt the pulse of his sex inside her, and knew that in moments, he’d have to move and give in to the urge to reach completion. The thought made her lips twitch, and she kissed his shoulder and nuzzled into the corner of his neck. “You can stay, you know.”

“Right here?” he said, a smile in his voice.

“In my cabana. For the night.” At his deep inhale, she realized she’d brought the outside world between them.

His head rose, and he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I have to check in with my men.”

“No worries. I just meant…”

“I know. This is nice.” His gaze held hers.

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not nice. This is…” She lifted her shoulders. “I like this…with you.”

“So do I. I don’t want to leave.”

“But you can stay for a while…” Did she sound too needy? She hoped not. But she wanted him to know he was welcome here with her.

“I’m here now, sweetheart.”

Such a simple word. One she’d been called before and which she’d used with other boyfriends, but this time, hearing it made her feel special, even cherished. In that moment, she realized what she’d been missing in previous relationships, what her friend Maya had found. A true lover, not just a play partner. Someone who mattered.

How sad was it that this man, nearly a stranger, exposed a nerve like that. But she tucked away that little bit of insight to ponder later, because he rose again, fitting her legs higher on his hips, arranging her body for his pleasure. Spotting the re-harshening of his features, she knew this was it. That he’d bring them both to orgasm, no more playing around.

There was no readying herself, no clear expectation of what that might feel like, because, yes, she’d had sex plenty of times, but she’d never been consumed by a man. And Lace knew this experience was going to be different and so much more.

She eased back, laid her hands beside her head and held his gaze, letting him know she was his, for as long as this lasted. Perhaps she’d have to pick up the pieces later, but she’d savor every moment. Starting now.

Chapter Four

‡

Dex hadn’t thought it was possible for her to be any more perfect, but her abject surrender, the trust gleaming in her green eyes, made him ache. She was beautiful, and that in itself was a gift, but he’d had beautiful before. However, he’d never met a woman capable of humbling him.

He wanted to be perfect for her, as well. But his raw desire was already taking over his mind. He’d drawn out this encounter to the point that his balls were painfully hard and tight, his cock ready to blow.

Resting on one palm, he tucked a hand beneath her ass and began to rock, slow in and out lunges that had her channel caressing his entire length with gentle ripples. He began slowly, wanting to savor every stroke, but his urgency quickly built.

Her own expression was changing, her eyelids dropping as her pleasure grew. Her cheeks reddened, perspiration made her skin glow. He had to be closer.

Coming down on her, he clasped her hands, interweaving their fingers while he rocked.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she gave him a warm smile. “I could come right now.”

“But you won’t.”

Her fingers tightened. “I won’t.” But a flare of doubt was there in her eyes.

Not that he minded. She wanted to obey. Wanted to wait until he was ready. So he quickened his thrusts, making them shorter, harder, liking the way her breaths gusted at the end of each stroke and the way her fingers curled and her nails bit into the backs of his hands. His pulse raced.

He read her desperation to hold on in the widening of her eyes, and leaned down, kissing her cheek. “It’s okay, baby. Now. Let me watch.”

Her gaze locked with his, and then she bit her lip, making a humming sound.

He stroked harder, deeper, pumping his hips, jostling her body now, waiting as she let go.

At last, her mouth opened. “Oh, oh, oh…” A whining whimper stretched out. She was there, her pussy clenching down on him, her orgasm exploding, releasing moisture that eased his thrusts.

Dex repositioned his knees and thrust harder, faster, the friction causing his own pleasure to grow and grow. Her cries grew louder, and he was determined to draw out her orgasm as his own consumed him. He slipped a hand between their bodies and found her clit, plucking and rubbing it while he pounded against her. “That’s it. Ride it out, baby. I’m there, too. Fuck.”

He jerked back his head and shouted, fucking her harder. Shoving her up the bed, and following her, unrelenting until his balls tightened and released, and come jetted, spilling out in hot bursts.

When the storm passed, he continued rocking, sliding his hand from between them, and reaching down to frame her face to kiss her. His mouth rubbed hers. She opened to him, and he swept his tongue inside, sharing tastes of her and him.

Finally, he stopped moving and eased down her legs. He spread his thighs and clamped them around hers, trapping his cock inside her. “I’d like to stay like this a while.”

Her smile was tired but happy. “You won’t smother me.” Her arms came around and hugged him.

He rested his face against the corner of her shoulder, inhaling the sweet floral scent of her perfume and shampoo, and the stronger scent of her musk. A perfect blending of sex and woman. “I have to leave,” he whispered.

“So you already said. Don’t talk about it now.”

He felt a pinch in his chest. She was reluctant to break their embrace, too. He came up on his elbows and traced the curve of her cheek, then moved down to her mouth. “No bad moments?”

Her smile stretched wide. “You were perfect. I was only a little afraid.”

“Do me a favor, for my peace of mind.”

“Anything. You’ve earned the privilege.” Her fingers trailed over his shoulders.

“Don’t ever ask another man to do that.”

Lace swallowed, her smile fading. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough to ask. Thank you, by the way.”

“I mean it. When you give away that kind of power, you can’t ever really know what you might unleash. I wouldn’t trust another guy like that.”

Lace breathed deeply and laid her palm against his cheek. “Not that you’ll have any say in what I do in the future, but I do hear you. I’m not stupid. There’s a reason that was one unfulfilled fantasy of mine. Something like this, but not as wonderful, happened a long time ago.”

Anger flushed through him. Since she’d revealed that so casually, he’d let it go and trust that she didn’t really want him to hunt down someone who might have hurt her. If she asked though, he would.

He closed his eyes. She was absolutely correct. He hadn’t a right to demand anything. For her to share her past or her future plans. But she could have lied to appease him. Then he looked at her again. “I’m glad you asked me.”

*

The following morning, Dex wasn’t in the best of moods when Halloran pulled him aside on the dock. He’d been hanging back, waiting for a glimpse of Lace, but she was late. She might not make the sailing, something that disappointed him in a way that didn’t bear examination.

The guests were boarding, arriving in a leisurely manner. His skiff crew stood by, ready to board so they could take a quick trip around the lagoon and beyond to check for anything out of the ordinary.

One last glance around the beach assured him that the men tucked behind palm trees and the two guarding the docks were where they should be. Halloran’s two guards were already aboard the yacht.

He turned his attention to his employer, trying not to wince at the mostly pink Hawaiian shirt Halloran wore atop white knee-length pants.

“Dexter, I’d like you to sail aboard the Clementine today.”

He gave the older man a closer look, wondering what the glint in his eyes meant. “You have two men aboard already. Are you worried that’s not enough?”

“Of course not. You planned well. And my men blend in, making the guests feel secure. I thought you might like to take a day off. Be my guest today.”

Dex stopped his automatic frown. “It’s kind of you to offer, but—”

“Agreeing would please me.”

“I’m not exactly dressed…” He waved a hand at his dark shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots.

A shaggy gray brow arched. “Spare swimsuits are in the cabins. We’ll be using the shark cages today.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I noticed Ms. McElhannon was pretty frightened yesterday. She might need a hand to hold when we drop her over the side.”

Something Dex had worried about, too. He and Lace had talked about the dive last night as he’d dressed, but the issue had been left annoyingly unresolved.

“You don’t have to get into the cage, Lace.”

Her chin had shot up. “You’re not really the boss of me.”

That gesture was one he was coming to adore. The way she said it, slowly and very precisely, told him she was testing. Perhaps she was waiting to see whether he thought her surrender in the bedroom meant she ought to accept his control outside of it. “Lace, I’m not telling you what to do. The choice is yours. But consider what happened today. You were panicked.”

“I’ll have steel bars between me and the fish.”

“Not just fish, sweetheart—Great Whites. They’re huge, and they’ll be much closer this time.”

Her chin lifted another inch. “Troy’s been doing this a long time. He’s never lost a client.”

“Troy’s an overgrown surfer who’s doing what he does because he can’t hold down a grownup job.”

Her lips twitched. “That was kind of harsh. He seems…nice.”

He shot her glare meant to singe.

She only wrinkled her nose. “I’ll think about it, and see how it goes with a few of the others before I go into the cage.”

He drew a deep breath, hands on his hips, but in the end let it go in a long sigh. “Just be careful.”

And then she strode toward him, still nude, her body flushed, her skin red from whisker burn in several interesting places. She came up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his mouth, leaning into him until he placed his arms around her and gave her a hard squeeze.

“Promise,” he growled.

“I’ll be careful.”

But her wide smile hadn’t reassured him.

He tapped his earpiece. “Anyone see her?” he barked, then winced. Not the most professional thing he’d ever said over the comm channel.

Laughter sounded from the skiff. He glanced over and gave his team a deadly glare, but it didn’t stop their chuckling.

“I see her,” came an amused voice in his ear—one of the guards patrolling the beach. “She’s holding her sandals and running like hell. Must have woken up late.”

At the thought of potential injury, Dex cursed. “Give her a shout. Tell her she doesn’t have to run. We won’t sail without her.”

A throat cleared behind him, and he glanced back.

Eyebrows raised, Halloran grinned. “Guess you’ll be with us today.”

Dexter shook his head but returned the grin, feeling suddenly lighter, happier because she was on her way. “Yes, sir.”

And then there she was, wearing a sheer red knee-length cover over another of her minuscule bikinis, a large beach bag slung over one shoulder and her sandals held in her hand. Her hair was a wild, curly mess. She was impossibly beautiful.

He noted the catch in his breath as he watched her slow her steps as she approached him, a shy grin tilting up the corners of her mouth.

“Good morning, Mr. Haygood.”

He arched a brow. Really? She was going with “Mr. Haygood” when there wasn’t a soul surrounding them who didn’t know what they’d been doing last night? “You’re late. Thought you’d decided to give the cage a skip,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Not a chance. It’s why I’m here.” She looked around him to Halloran. “Hi there, Mr. Halloran. Looks like we have a nice, sunny day for the dive.”

“The ocean’s calm. I’d say we’re in for a perfect day, Ms. McElhannon.”

Blowing out a breath, Dex offered her his arm.

She blushed as she slipped her hand into the corner of his crooked elbow and leaned close. “I forgot to set an alarm.”

“Must have had something on your mind last night,” he murmured.

“I had something very large in my bed.”

He shook his head, but didn’t miss the shaking of Halloran’s shoulders as he strode away. So much for conducting his affairs in private. He paused beside the skiff. “Looks like you’ll be short a man today.”

Hank shook his head. “We’ve got this covered, man.”

Justin opened his mouth to say something, but Dex killed the thought with a warning glance. Instead, the blonde man smiled and waved at Lace. “Keep him out of trouble.”

Lace laughed beside him, and he strode away before his friends could manage to say anything too blue. If the blush pinking her cheeks was any indication, she was embarrassed enough. “You pack sunscreen?”

“Loads. You need some?” She batted her eyes. “I can help you with all those hard-to-reach places.”

“Halloran said I could borrow a suit.”

“I have a cabin assigned to me. I’m sure he’s already got something waiting there for your use. He seems to think of everything.”

A cabin. “Should take an hour to get to the dive spot near the reef.”

“Long enough.” She bumped the side of her hip against his, then reached up to tap his earpiece. “Hey guys, mind if he loses this for a while?” she said, leaning up and talking right into it.

Laughter sounded behind him, but rather than any of the crew responding over the air, the skiff’s motor roared into life. As it sped past them, his men gave him broad smiles. Maybe they were a little jealous of his good fortune, but they’d never begrudge him the chance to be with her. Besides, they had plenty of juicy fodder to haze him about in the months to come. Especially after he’d learned that Justin had been lucky enough to pass a certain window at dusk the previous night. And SEALs, even ex-SEALs, loved nothing better than a little good-natured razzing.

They strode aboard the ship, heading up a flight of steps to the middle deck. She led him straight to a cabin door and pushed down the door handle. Inside was a perfectly appointed bedroom, a far cry from any digs he’d ever had aboard a ship. A king-sized bed covered in a purple-and-cream cover dominated the room. A shower stall tiled with river rock and sporting clear glass doors filled one side of the room. A loveseat and two armchairs sat opposite, next to a balcony. The curtains were pulled back, flooding the bed with sunlight.

His gaze went to the artwork on the wall, recessed lighting providing a perfect spotlight. He’d bet money the piece was worth more than ten years of his salary, and that every single stateroom aboard the yacht sported something just as precious.

“Our host doesn’t skimp on the luxuries,” Lace said, bringing two wine glasses and a chilled bottle of the red stuff from a sideboard table.

“If he plans to outfit his new luxury boats with masterpieces like that, he’ll have to run background checks on every one of his passengers.”

“I imagine the boats will be smaller, more scaled back, and will have prints on the walls instead of the real thing.” She handed him a glass.

He sat on the edge of the bed and patted each side of the mattress. It was soft, made for lingering. When Lace crawled over his lap, her knees sliding to either side of his hips, he smiled. “Now, how are we going to manage through all these layers?”

She grinned and handed him her glass. “Hold this.” Her smile widened as she rose on her knees and pulled his belt open, unbuttoned his waistband, and slowly slid down his zipper. Without any help from him, she soon held his cock in her hand. She caressed his length, pulling on it, encouraging it to lengthen and fill. When she was satisfied, she arched a brow. “Don’t spill anything.”

Feigning nonchalance, he took a gulp from his glass, but only smiled.

Lifting her sheer cover, she tossed it away, then pulled aside the slim triangle that covered her sex.

“Does he have more of those teeny suits in the closet?”

“Just my size. I tried them all on yesterday.”

“Hold these. And don’t spill a drop.” He transferred the glasses to her, then fingered the thin elastic bands at either side of her hip. He grunted. Too thick and stretchy to tear. So he reached behind him to the knife sheathed on his belt and unsnapped it. With a single flick of a button, the blade sprang out.

Lace gasped and her eyes shot wide.

“Don’t worry; the sharp edge won’t touch your skin.” He slid the blade under the elastic and sliced through it. He did the same to the other side, and then slowly dragged the scrap between her legs. The wine in the glasses sloshed.

“Careful there,” he whispered.

She was breathing harder and came down on him, her folds aligned with his sex. She handed him a glass. “Want to toast something?”

He shook his head. “You really want to take that much time to think?”

In a single gulp, she poured the contents of her glass down her throat.

The faraway hum of the boat’s engine rumbled through the room, providing a gentle vibration.

Her nostrils flared. “I think I’m going to like doing this at sea.”

“We haven’t pulled away from the dock yet.”

“Whatever. You haven’t finished your wine,” she said, giving him a sexy glide of her hips.

He felt her moist response. Felt her shiver. Glad she’d only put a small amount of wine in their glasses, he finished his then reached toward the floor to set down his glass, followed by hers. Then he wrapped his arms around her body and held her snug against him. “An hour,” he said softly.

“Should be long enough, don’t you think?”

“We’ll have to shower and change.”

Her auburn eyebrows drew together into an adorable frown. “Better hurry, then.”

“Condom,” he growled. “Wallet, left pocket.” When she dug into his pants, he growled again. “Your other left.”

“Geez, you’re grumpy.” One side of her mouth kicked up in a smirk, but her hands shook as she took care of business.

When she rolled down the condom, Dex cupped the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss. Electricity sparked. The engine hummed, the boat beginning a gentle sway. They’d left the dock.

The chatter in his ear confirmed it. His crew gave the all clear to the captain on the bridge.

Shutting out the sounds, he concentrated instead on the thud of the heartbeat he detected at the side of her throat as he smoothed his lips over her soft, creamy skin.

When she pushed up, he didn’t stop her, smiling as she reached between them and guided him inside her body. Only when she’d lowered herself, and their coupling was assured, did he move, rolling them both, shoving her body upward, crowding her with his knees to keep the connection as he settled them in the center of the bed.

Her hands glided up his chest to his shoulders. “You have on too many clothes.”

“But you don’t,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”

She reached down and shoved at his pants, but he was already moving. His clothing was trapped beneath him, but he didn’t care. He was naked where it counted, surrounded by her wet, slippery depths.

“You didn’t take out your earpiece.”

“Don’t worry about it. They can’t hear us.”

“Maybe I’d like it if they did.” The lift of her brows revealed a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

Dex shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t. I’m not the one who’ll be making all the noise.”

Chapter Five

‡

A little while later, Dex rolled away, settling beside her on the sumptuous mattress. He stripped off the condom and tossed it into the wastebasket beside the bed.

“Wow,” Lace whispered.

He was tempted to echo the sentiment, but didn’t have the breath. Dex lay beside her, holding her hand until the riot in his chest grew quiet. “We should join the others. You’ve got a safety briefing to attend.” He turned to look at Lace, who lay sprawled beside him, and tugged a lock of hair to get her attention.

Her eyelids blinked dreamily open. “Mmm…I have to shower first.”

“In less than an hour, you’ll be jumping into the ocean.”

She wrinkled her nose. “So?” But her smile was sweet as she stared back at him. “You have to find a suit.”

“Why’s that? I’m not the one getting into a cage.”

“Seriously? You’d let me go alone?” Her hand waved in the air. “What if I panic?”

“Think you won’t if I’m there?”

Her mouth pouted. “I trust you to keep me safe.”

Dex came closer, his face right beside hers on the pillow. “Then don’t go.”

“I have to.”

He shook his head. “Stubborn. Guess you’ll have a dive partner.” Something he’d planned to do all along, but she didn’t have to know he’d been worried about her. The cages were relatively safe—he’d checked out their construction himself—but she’d be pulling in air through a long plastic tube and having to remember to exhale through her nose. Since she could barely swim, he worried she’d forget the technique.

Not that they’d be very far beneath the surface. The dive cage would be barely submerged, just deep enough to dangle a chum basket beside it and wait for the sharks to search out their meal.

Lace sighed and rolled into him, snuggling against his chest.

His body reacted predictably to her warm, sweaty skin rubbing against his—his heart kicking up its pace, his breaths deepening. His cock regained a little stiffness with a gentle nudge from her knee.

And then her hand skimmed his chest and roamed downward. She wasn’t just looking to snuggle. Smiling inwardly, he caught her hand before she reached his cock. “We’ll be cutting it close.”

“We only have a couple more days…” A shadow entered her eyes, but she gave him a quick smile, likely to deflect any thoughts of their parting.

He was having the same difficulty, not wanting to think about their goodbyes, because he’d miss her. Already, he feared his memories of her would be tinged with regrets. He cupped her hand and held it over his heart. “Let’s make this quick.”

“Make me,” she whispered.

Those two words, from her alone, packed a charge like dynamite, exploding through him. Quick as lightning, he came over her, his thighs straddling her hips and his hands stretching hers above her head.

Heat burned away the shadows in her green eyes and sent a flush across her cheeks. She bucked beneath him, but he twisted, gliding one leg down to trap hers, not allowing her leverage to lift her hips again.

Holding her wrists easily with one hand while she wriggled and tugged against him, he skimmed a palm over a breast, pausing to give the nipple a decidedly ungentle pinch. “Should have thought to pack some things. I’d love to put a clamp around this tip and tighten it up until you whimper,” he whispered, giving her another twist.

Her breath caught, her mouth dropping open. “I’d like to see you try,” she gasped.

The sound sent blood pumping through his body. “Oh, that’s only where I’d start. I’d bind your arms, your legs, and attach them to the furniture—keep you spread-eagle and helpless.”

She licked her lips, her eyelids dipping as once more he pinched her, and then scratched down her quivering abdomen.

“Then what?”

He slapped the side of her breast, a tap really, but the deep breath she sucked in released in a ragged gasp. “I’d use a flogger and stroke it right over these pretty, puffy cones.” He bent over to suck her nipple into his mouth.

He drew hard, waiting until he felt her shudder, listening as she mewed like a kitten. Releasing her, he deepened his voice to a rough growl. “I’d lay stripes on your ass and thighs.”

“Not very SEAL-like, forgetting to prepare for every contingency.”

“I have a hand, don’t I?” he said, giving her swats on her breasts, her belly. He eased off the pressure of his thigh locking hers closed.

Her legs widened. “Shouldn’t leave a mark where anyone might see…”

Gliding his hand down to cup her mound, he suppressed a grin. “You have a point.” Dex lifted his hand and slapped her pussy, his palm coming away wet. “Like that, sweetheart?”

She groaned and widened her thighs, sliding her heels up the bed to curl her hips and give him more of a target, her silent plea made all the more apparent when she bit her lip and held her breath.

This time, he gave her a harder smack. Her pussy was red, her lips engorged, still raw from their earlier play, but moistening fast. “Like that? Want more?”

Her head thrashed. “Yes, please. Again.”

He spanked her folds, harsh pats that warmed her sex and his hand while she arched and bowed, her body twisting. He made a note to himself to hit a sex shop on the island to buy fetters and floggers, a paddle—hell, he’d empty the store buying things he wanted to use to torture her.

With his cock digging hard into the side of her hip, Dex tucked two fingers inside her slick cunt and held them still, waiting until she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I don’t want to move to get another condom.”

“We’ve already established that I’m safe and you’re safe. I’m okay with this.”

He shook his head. “When I let you up, I want you to turn around. I want your pussy on my mouth.” He gave her a nudge with his cock. “This will keep those sweet lips of yours busy.”

Her smile stretched wide. “I like your dirty talk, sailor.”

He narrowed his eyes in a mock glare. “Don’t make me wait.” Then he pulled back and lay on the bed, reaching up to toss the pillows away as she angled around, slid a thigh over his head, and then with his hands on her ass, centered her cunt above his head.

Dex drew in their mixed scents, rubbed his raspy cheek into her moist folds as she lowered her torso and came to rest on her elbows, her face hovering over his cock. Her warm, excited breaths gusted over his shaft.

He brought his hands between her thighs, bracing them, his thumbs spreading her folds and dove in, sucking her lips into his mouth, lavishing them with strokes of his tongue, nips of his teeth. He burrowed his nose between them, scraping the shadow sprouting on his cheeks against her tender pink flesh. He felt her body tremble and gave her clit a nip. “Go down on me, Lace,” he growled. Again, he nipped her little bud.

Her body stiffened, and a moment later, moist heat surrounded the crown of his dick.

Growling again, but with pleasure this time, he lapped at her inner folds, drinking in her sea-salt flavor. Pointing his tongue, he sank into her entrance, wriggling and swirling as deeply as he could stretch.

Lace murmured around him and took him deeper into her mouth, her hot tongue giving his shaft wild caresses while her lips tightened. She sucked so hard his toes curled, nearly making him forget his end of their pleasurable activity.

Withdrawing, he licked downward, forked his fingers to tug down and expose her clit, and then latched his lips around it while he thrust two fingers into her clasping channel. His fingers fucked her, plunging deeply while he lolled his tongue on her nubbin, then tapped it, increasing the strength of his own suctioning, pulling on her clit until it was hard and round and escaped its hood, which freed his fingers for other pleasures.

Looping an arm around her hips, he slid his slick fingers between her buttocks and inserted one into her tiny, furled hole.

Teeth scraped his shaft, and he grunted then gave her inner thigh a gentle bite to remind her to be careful before returning his attention to the hard little knot.

Lace sank again and again, wetting his shaft, her fingers gripping his balls and rolling them gently, adding a tug now and then, perhaps to keep him alert, but he didn’t need the reminder. He was fascinated with the changes in her body. Her tension melted away, her hips flowing up and down. Liquid spilled from inside her, and he paused to lap it up, groaning because now he wished he hadn’t been adamant about that condom.

Her mouth was a delicious prick-tease—bobbing slowly, gliding down, then sucking off, again and again, but not nearly fast enough. He planted his heels in the mattress, raised his knees and lifted his hips, waiting for her to adjust to accept his plunges deep into her throat.

With his balls tightening inside her grasp, he pumped upward, keeping with the quickening rhythm of the fingers stroking into her channel and ass. He pulled his hand free of her cunt, added a third and then fucked faster.

Their bodies ground together, her hips coming down, thighs shivering around him as he sucked hard enough his lips gripped the base of her tiny bud. His tongue rasped and swirled, tapped and curled.

At last, he felt her thighs tense, her hips halt. Dex closed his eyes, trying to split his concentration between bringing her to orgasm and his own building pleasure, but she sank so deeply, every inch of him was encased in heat, her tongue floating along his shaft. The suctioning grew stronger, and he surrendered, his tight balls exploding, shooting a load of come down her throat.

His hips jerked, again and again, the pleasure so exquisite he gave a tight groan and held still, his mind consumed as wave after wave of orgasm had him rocking both their bodies. When at last the pleasure ebbed, he renewed his efforts, loving the way she curled atop him, her face resting beside his spent cock, her hands roving over his thighs and sex, fingernails digging into his skin when he sucked harder, plunged deeper, at last feeling those gentle convulsions clench around his fingers.

Long moments passed. Slowly, Lace lifted and moved around to his side.

He drew her against his body, until they rested chest to chest on their sides.

Her face was pink, her mouth a swollen mess. Knowing that he too must look like he’d just had the best sex of his life, he grinned. “Wow,” he whispered.

Her chuckles shook them. “I have to say, even without floggers and fetters—you’re the best I’ve ever had.” Her laughter quieted, and her gaze clung to his.

Dex drew a deep breath and cupped her cheek. Then he leaned in to kiss her mouth, afraid to give her back her words in case he blurted ones of his own. Hell yeah, she’d blown him away.

The captain’s whistle blew over the intercom, followed by, “Passengers, please make your way to the lounge. The safety briefing begins in twenty minutes.”

Relieved at the interruption, and ashamed he felt that way, Dex made a rueful face. “We could ignore that.”

“And fuck away the afternoon?” She wrinkled her nose. “I would, except this was a once-in-a-lifetime invitation. I really do have to make this dive. I have clients I need to assure about this being a safe and fun kind of vacation.”

The “clients” part confused him, but Dex gave her a quick kiss and unwound his arms.

She gave him another quick buss against his cheek. “I’ll shower first.”

But she didn’t turn away quick enough for him to miss the disappointment in her eyes. Lying back as she padded away from the bed, he sighed. Too bad Chicago was a world away from any port he ever visited. The thought of never seeing her again left his chest feeling hollow.

*

Sitting in the lounge in her swimsuit, Lace listened to Troy’s briefing with one ear tuned to the doorway, wondering if Dex would grace them with his presence. She’d left before he’d finished showering. She’d needed to escape. Things were getting sticky with the handsome ex-SEAL, and no amount of self-directed warnings could convince her heart to stop falling any deeper into whatever it was she was beginning to feel for him.

She didn’t want to even think the word love. Doing so made her chest hurt and her tummy roil. There was no future for them. Their lives were as far-removed from each other’s as any two lives could be.

Damn, did he have to be so handsome? Such a wonderful lover? Everything he did, every sound and touch and expression, pulled her closer, deeper into whatever this was. Not love. Couldn’t be love. Not in the short time they’d been together.

Lust. That was all. Dirty, steamy, vacation sex. She’d indulged before, and this was no different, she told herself. So why did she feel as though she was shattering? Yearning so strong it tugged at her heart and swept through her.

Maybe she should break it off now, before she sank in any deeper.

And then she caught a movement beside the door.

Dex strode inside, his hair wet, wearing a pair of boxer-style swim shorts and a tee that hugged his physique, drawing more than just her gaze. Every woman in the room checked him out. Even without his dark security uniform, no one glancing at his frame would mistake him for anything other than what he was—a man built to protect, his honed muscles a formidable weapon. Delicious, masculine chum to the women seated near their pudgy, pasty-faced husbands and boyfriends.

Her back stiffened until he caught her gaze and gave her a small smile, one that anyone else seeing it would know was charged with the knowledge of everything they’d just shared.

Her body warmed. So did her face. Her chest swelled with happiness, and she returned his smile, waving him toward the empty seat beside her. Inwardly, Lace shrugged at her capitulation. There was no fighting this. She might as well squeeze as many memories out of their liaison as she possibly could.

He leaned toward her to whisper. “Did I miss anything?”

“Just his walk-through of what happens when the cage is dropped. And he wanted to know if we all felt comfortable snorkeling, to make sure we could apply the same concept to the breathing tube we’ll be using.” Her gaze swung his way. “You snorkel, right?” she asked, her tone wry.

He gave a snort. “I won’t need a tube. I’ll use diving gear.”

“Big bad SEAL afraid of trusting anyone else with his air?”

“Hell yeah.”

When Troy cleared his throat to draw their attention back to the briefing, they both turned, Lace giving the other man an apologetic smile for her lapse.

Dex’s hand landed on top of hers where it rested on the arm of the chair, and for the remainder of the briefing, they kept quiet, Lace enjoying the casual way he’d staked his claim. Somehow, just that simple touch calmed her, kept her connected.

On reflection, Lace realized she’d only been fooling herself, and that her angst was wrapped up in her denial. She was in love. Hopelessly, deeply, and forever. Oddly, that unexpected little tidbit of self-knowledge didn’t come with any pangs of regret. All she felt was gratitude toward the universe for giving her this gift—regardless of the fact it came with an expiration date.

Chapter Six

‡

After the briefing and the announcement of the order of the dives, the passengers drifted away, seeking lounge chairs on the upper deck or a meal in the galley while they awaited their assigned turn in the cage.

Since Lace was third on the list, Dex decided to check with the dive crew about borrowing scuba gear. No way was he going underwater without carrying his own air. As he approached the crew, he noted the way they checked him out, posture stiffening. Something about their attitudes didn’t sit right.

“Going to take a turn in the cage?” Troy asked, coming up beside him.

Dex gave the older man a glance. Troy wore a long-sleeved tee over dive suit shorts and flip-flops. His smile was open, but didn’t quite reflect in his eyes. “I’ll be going in the water with Ms. McElhannon.”

Troy nodded. “Good idea. She freaked out yesterday. Not that she should have worried. The sharks were a good thirty feet below her, and I’ve never had one bite a client.”

“Your equipment’s good,” Dex murmured, eyeing the large heavy aluminum and steel framed cage sitting on the deck beside the small crane the crew would use to lower it. “Why a submersible?” he asked, noting the enclosed top of the cage.

“Some folks prefer dropping deeper to get swarmed. We have scuba gear for those who are experienced divers; for the rest, we’ll dangle the cage right below the surface. They’ll be using hookah tubes to breathe through.”

Dex nodded. “I’ll want a tank even though you won’t be dropping the cage deep.”

“You got it.” Troy waved a hand at the line of buoyancy compensating jackets stacked against a wall. “Choose a BCD and grab a tank and regulator. I know you’ll want to check out your gear before you go in.”

“Thanks, I will.” Dex turned at the sound of laughter as an older couple strode down the deck. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

Troy gave him a two-fingered salute and laughed, then approached the couple who were first on the dive list.

Dex strode aft and glanced over the side of the boat to the escort skiff bobbing on a gentle sea.

Justin raised a hand to wave.

Dex touched his earpiece. “How’s everything going?”

“No worries. Except Johnny thinks something’s up with the engine. It’s been hiccuping a bit.”

Damn. Dex blew out a breath. “If he’s worried, radio back to shore to muster another boat. Halloran has a cruiser we can put to use.”

“Will do. Is your lady friend nervous about the dive?”

“Not too much.” Dex grinned. “She’ll have me in the cage.”

“No worries then. No Great White’s a match for a SEAL.”

Dex gave the men another wave then pushed away from the side. There wasn’t a cloud in the clear blue sky. The sea was calm. Shrugging off his momentary frisson of unease, he went in search of Lace. She’d be his focus throughout this adventure. Still, he ran up the metal steps and entered the bridge, eyeing the captain who gave him a little wave and the other white-suited crewman who was one of Halloran’s guards.

Dex nodded toward the screen, free of any blips. “No other boats in the area?”

“Screen’s been clear since we left the island. We’ve got it covered. Enjoy the dive.”

The other man’s grin was friendly enough. Unworried, Dex nodded then headed out the door. The other white-suited guard was probably serving drinks while keeping watch. All the activity of the staff and the dive team seemed to be business as usual. Dex didn’t know why his gut was telling him something wasn’t right, but he trusted his instincts. Always.

After taking more steps to the highest platform where a couple of guests were sunning themselves, Dex gazed out over the ocean. The water was calm and a deep, dark blue. Still, nothing on the horizon. Looking down, he spotted Lace, holding onto the rail while she made her way toward the back of the yacht. Likely, she was beginning to get jittery about the dive.

Shrugging off the bad vibes, he took the stairs to the lower deck. The cage holding the first pair of divers was being winched up. They dropped their breathing apparatus and grinned at Troy and his crew, the female bubbling an excited, “It was awesome!”

Dex glanced at Lace. She stood in the raised, caged platform, the spotter’s cage, gazing downward, likely counting fins. While her attention was drawn there, he went to the diving gear, chose a BCD, and then grabbed a tank, regulator and weight belt. He checked filters, attached the regulator, then checked the tank’s pressure, assuring himself he had plenty of air for the short dive. He inspected the regulator and the alternate, checked inflation and deflation of his BCD. Everything was in order, all the equipment well-maintained. He stripped off his tee, toed off his shoes and placed his earpiece atop the folded bundle. Gearing up, he noted Lace heading down the ladder from the spotter’s cage and walking over to Troy.

Dex joined her, giving her a quick grin. “Still time to change your mind.”

She shook her head. “I watched the others. The cage is sturdy. And I have no wish to stick my hand outside the bars to try to pet them.”

Troy laughed. “We’ve got tiger sharks and whites. Should be a good show.” He turned to Dex. “You ready?”

Dex gave him a nod, and then handed Lace goggles and a weight belt. “This will keep you from floating to the top of the cage.”

Her smile stretched across her face. “I actually think this will be fun. I didn’t much like swimming above them, but the cage is almost like wearing armor.”

Minutes later, the second couple exited the cage, and one of Troy’s team opened the cage door and signaled for them to enter. Dex followed Lace as she ducked through the entrance. Once inside, she donned her goggles and belt, and then reached above her for the hookah tube with the mouthpiece.

“Anything goes wrong with the air in the tube…” he held up the alternate regulator, “I have this. Just remember to breathe in through your mouth, exhale through your nose.”

“Got it,” she said, her expression tense but happy.

Dex glanced behind him just as the cage door swung closed.

Troy stood outside the cage, giving him a hard stare. “You take care of her and no one gets hurt.” He turned the latch to close it.

Dex cut a glance around him, noted that the dive crew members were opening plastic tubs, pitching aside spare BCDs and pulling out firearms, pistols and rifles. Dread clenched his gut. Trapped inside a cage, he couldn’t make a move.

Lace’s fingers curled around his wrist. “What’s happening?”

Dex’s gaze locked on Troy’s grim smile. “They’re taking the boat. My crew—”

“Will be busy fishing you two from the bottom of the sea,” Troy said. “They won’t be able to follow us because their engine’s about to seize. While they’re occupied, we’ll be rounding up Halloran and his rich friends, and inviting them to wire funds to our accounts. By the time that second escort boat headed this way arrives, we’ll be long gone.”

Lace curled her body against his. Automatically, he grabbed her waist.

“You’ve got another boat coming,” Dex guessed, his heart beginning to race as he realized there wasn’t a thing he could do. Already, the chain holding the cage was tightening, lifting them off the deck.

“Like I said, if your men don’t try anything stupid, everyone lives. I’m not a murderer. I’m just looking out for my retirement.” Troy gave another grin, one that was tight. His eyes gleamed beneath lowered brows. “Stop worrying about what’s happening up here. You’re gonna have your hands full.” He angled his head toward Lace.

The cage rattled and shook as the crane swung it out over the water. Another chum bucket was lowered over the side. Dex’s attention went to the sharks circling beneath them, and then to the woman standing beside him, her eyes wide as saucers and her body beginning to shake. “Grab tight to the cage, baby. Hold your breath as we go down. Soon as we’re in the water, I’ll share my tank. We’ll be okay.”

With the cage poised above the water, Dex knew what was about to happen. He grabbed the rail and sank to his knees.

Lace did the same, staring back at him.

The moment the crane released the cage, chain rattling through the winch, they dropped into the water. A second later, they were fully submerged and lowering fast, Lace’s eyes widening behind her mask, her lips pinched closed and cheeks billowing as she held her breath.

Counting the seconds of their descent, Dex cleared his mask, put his regulator into his mouth, purged the water from it, and sucked in air. Then he slid his hand down the hose to the alternate regulator. With the cage still sinking, he held the rail with one hand and moved toward her.

He held up the yellow alternate regulator, but before allowing her to put it in her mouth, took out his own, showing her how to insert it, then hitting the purge button to let out water, before exaggerating an indrawn breath.

Lace followed his lead, at last breathing through the alternate. The panic in her face lessened as she breathed, and they both gazed upward. The chain rolling out, snagged at the end, then released. The cage free-floated the last few feet to settle in the sand at the sea bottom.

Above them, the yacht’s hull was a dark shadow. The much smaller skiff’s hull was on the far side of the boat. More than a dozen sharks, large and larger still, circled near the rear.

Dex could imagine the scene aboard the yacht as passengers were herded to the lounge and forced to clear accounts to shift money to Troy’s. The man had seemed adamant about not harming anyone, but he and his crew were armed. Anything could happen. Dex assumed they’d already neutralized the two guards aboard the ship, but how had they done it? Was his team even aware of what was going down?

Not willing to waste oxygen waiting for an answer, he reached outside of the cage to the latch at the front of the door.

Lace smacked his arm then pointed. A chum basket floated down beside them, stirring the sand as it landed not fifteen feet from them. The sharks above them gracefully turned and followed the basket, swarming it in a growing frenzy as they shredded fish, fighting each other for food.

The latch wasn’t locked. Troy had likely banked on Lace being too terrified by the sharks feeding so near them to venture out of the cage. If the pirates aboard the yacht were efficient, they should be gone well before the tank ran out of air. But Dex couldn’t rely on Troy’s efficiency any more than he wanted to rely on being rescued by his team. Safest route was to get themselves out of the cage and figure out how to reboard the yacht or his crew’s skiff. Retaking the yacht seemed a stretch right then, but he wasn’t one to give up.

However, their first step was to escape the cage. He glanced at Lace. She held so still, he knew she was waiting for him to signal his plan. She was far from an experienced diver. The fact she hadn’t already drowned was a damn miracle, but to expect her to swim to the surface, past hungry sharks, might be too much to ask.

Dex gripped her shoulders and leaned toward her, pressing his goggles against hers and meeting her frightened gaze. They could do this. She could do this. But she had to trust him.

Maybe he didn’t realize it, but his fingers dug hard into Lace’s shoulders as he bent toward her, trying to convey something with that cool, steady gaze. The air was nice. The mouthpiece tasted old and metallic, but after holding her breath for nearly a minute, she was grateful. Panic was receding. Sure, the cage sat on the ocean floor. Sharks swum close enough she could see their beady black eyes and rows and rows of triangular teeth. Blood and fish bits dirtied the pristine water beside them as the sharks fought for every scrap of chum. But she and Dex were safe for the moment, crouched inside the steel dive cage. Someone above would come for them. His team, hopefully.

If they even knew they were sitting at the bottom of the freaking ocean.

Okay, so she was still panicking. She forced herself to steady her breaths. There couldn’t be a limitless supply of nasty-tasting air in the tank. Afraid to touch him and somehow crimp a hose or bust a connection, she kept her fists in tight balls at her sides while he watched her through their goggles until she gave him a slow blink to let him know she was back in control.

The sides of his eyes wrinkled. A smile, of sorts.

If he could smile, she could keep from being another source of worry for him. No doubt he needed all his attention on getting them out of there. Soothing her fears shouldn’t be another problem.

So, she’d ticked through all their problems, or at least, the ones they faced down there. Wondering what kind of hell had broken loose above wasn’t something she was willing to consider right then. But what advantages did they have?

They possessed a single tank of air, steel bars between them and the sharks, and she had a SEAL crouched right in front of her. The last advantage being the most important. This was a guy who’d been in scary places before. She’d follow his lead. Whatever he wanted, she wouldn’t balk.

Dex leaned away, pointed between them, then straight above them.

Automatically, Lace shook her head, then met his gaze and gave him two blinks, hoping he’d read her code. Hellz no!

His eyes narrowed.

No, not that look, not now. Even with enlarged goggle-eyes, he was sexy as hell.

Again, he jabbed an extended finger toward the yacht.

Although it was the last thing she wanted to agree to, she gave him a slow blink.

Not giving her time to rethink the order, he reached outside the cage and opened the door.

Heart pounding, Lace cast a frightened glance toward the sharks, but they were still distracted with their feeding, now bumping each other, teeth bared as they swam in tight circles and lunged toward the fish bits sticking out from the sides of the basket.

Dex tugged her hand. He was poised to exit the door.

She sidled closer and waited as he exited, then carefully followed, no choice there, really, because her air line wasn’t very long.

He touched a button on something hanging from the hoses and she felt an upward tug. They began their ascent.

Careful to never look behind them, she held still, letting him do the swimming for them both, one-armed as it was, because he wasn’t letting go of her hand. The hard squeeze was reassuring, as was his long, muscled body. They were weaponless, as vulnerable as two people swimming in shark-infested water could be, and they were nearing a boat overtaken by pirates.

She’d come to the Caribbean, wanting an adventure. Well, one had certainly found her. Next time, she’d settle for a cabana on private beach.

Chapter Seven

‡

Dex kept under the hull of the boat, hoping any spotter Troy might have placed on the deck would be angled such that he’d never see them coming up. The fact the chum bucket sat closer to the boat than the cage might work in their favor, masking their ascent. The bubbles of air rising from their breathers might not be noticeable. So many mights and maybes.

He had to shove aside his doubts and keep moving upward, pressing a button every now and then to inflate his BCD so they rose slowly. He glanced once behind them, and was reassured by the determined expression in Lace’s eyes. She was with him and holding steady. Beyond her, he noted the sharks were losing interest in the chum basket. They must have devoured it by now. A few trailed away, but one Great White swam beneath them, not angling upward, but clearly interested.

Shark attacks against divers were rare. Not his biggest worry. However, if Lace saw the creature…

Dex squeezed her hand and drew her attention, pointing toward the end of the boat right beneath the swimming platform. Again, he hit the button to add air to his BCD to buoy them higher. Just beneath the platform, he unstrapped the vest and handed it to her, keeping his regulator in his mouth for the moment, but held up his hand to let her know he was ready to give her a signal.

He pointed at her, and then placed a hand on the ship’s hull. Stay.

Her large green eyes blinked twice. No.

He spat out his regulator, patted the hull, then swam backward, putting some distance between them. He held up a hand and spread his fingers. Five minutes.

She glanced around and then down, noted the shark swimming beneath them, then raised her gaze to his, shaking her head faster.

Five minutes. His chest tightened and he forced calm into his thoughts. He swam nearer and cupped the side of her face. Did she think he wanted to leave her here alone? But he had to see what was happening above them.

Her eyes filled, but she blinked once, planting a hand on the hull, telling him she’d stay put.

Relieved, he picked up the regulator, purged it, then took two deep breaths. And then he swam toward his skiff, keeping beneath the curve of the yacht so that anyone above wouldn’t see him in the water. When he glanced up at the skiff, what he saw made his stomach drop.

All three of his crew sat facing the ship, their hands clasped behind their heads. Without needing to see what was happening above them, he guessed one of Troy’s men held a gun on them. He surfaced, raising just his head above the water and dragged in a shallow breath.

Justin’s gaze lowered, one side of his mouth quirked up. “’Bout damn time,” he said softly.

“How many on the platform?”

Justin kept his gaze trained above, but said softly from the side of his mouth, “One’s all I can see. Another is on the bridge with the captain. The rest are with the passengers in the lounge. They made an announcement, got everyone there.”

“The replacement boat?”

“Last time I spoke to them, they were thirty minutes out.”

“Where’s the guy above me?”

“At the rails. I’ll keep him distracted.”

Plan set, Dex dunked beneath the water and swam back toward Lace. The shark had moved off, but she was still staring beneath her, legs curled close to her body.

Dex reached out and touched her leg.

Her head shot up, and she passed him the regulator.

He breathed, then signaled, pointing to her eyes, then toward the ladder leading up to the dive platform. Five minutes.

Her brows drew close. Concern for him, rather than fear.

Dex reached for her hand and cupped it inside his, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Then he released it, spat out the regulator and swam away. As he neared the ladder, he wished like hell he had a knife, or something he could use as a weapon. Careful not to make any splashing sounds, he eased up the ladder, then peeked over the edge.

A man stood near the far rails, a beefy arm wrapped around one of the female passengers and a gun pressed to her side.

That’s how he’d gotten Dex’s men to surrender. But how the hell was he going disarm the guy without harming the woman?

He edged onto the platform, listening as Justin started one of his riffs. As he moved, he noted the man holding the weapon on the woman was only a few steps from a set of stairs which were out of sight from the bridge above.

“So, you know how you’re gonna spend your money?” Justin’s voice drifted from below. “Man, if I had millions, I’d head to South America. You check out extradition treaties…”

Dex slipped behind the crane, keeping hidden from the windows of the bridge. No one patrolled the upper decks as far as he could see. Troy had taken the boat with only a handful of men.

He worked his way around the edges of the open platform, found a knife in a box of gear the dive team must have used to cut up fish for baiting, and then moved nearer the man whose attention was claimed by Justin’s unending patter.

“I told you to shut up.”

“I’m just curious, man. Never had the balls to do something like this.”

“Shut up.” With a stiff move, the man lowered his pistol, aiming it toward the skiff.

Dex leapt from cover, coming up behind him and sliding the knife against his throat, his other hand clamping on the wrist holding the weapon. “Let the gun drop.”

The man’s body tightened, his weight shifted slightly to the side.

He was going to make a move. Dex clipped the side of the man’s head and his body sagged. Thankfully, he hadn’t gotten a shot off.

The woman wriggled away, dropping to her knees beside him and sobbing.

“Quiet,” Dex said, lowering the man to the deck not looking her way. “Find a cabin. Lock yourself in.”

She pushed herself upright and ran without looking back.

Dex shot a glance over the side. “Justin, Lace is under the boat. I’ll handle the man on the bridge.”

Scooping his hands under the man’s arms, he dragged him backward, pulling him under the stairs to hide him. Then he raced up the stairs, hoping Troy’s man on the bridge was equally as un-trained as the one he’d just taken. If he radioed to Troy inside the lounge, things might get complicated fast.

When he reached the bridge, Dex hunched beneath the window, making his way swiftly to the door. There, he peeked into the window to see the captain standing at the far side, facing away while looking at a blip on the radar.

The gunman holding him hostage stood behind the captain, looking at the same screen over his shoulder. Whether the captain had deliberately pulled away his captor’s attention from the drama on the deck, Dex had no way of knowing, but the coincidence was damn lucky. He opened the door and slid quietly inside, and then paused, prepared to rush him.

The burly man in a tied-dyed shirt glanced back, eyes widening. He spun and raised his weapon.

Behind him, the captain shoved.

Dex came in low, plowing into the guard’s belly.

The man reached out for the gun, but the captain stomped on his fingers.

Dex and the pirate wrestled on the floor, but although the other man was in good shape, he wasn’t a disciplined fighter. Within seconds Dex flipped him and slipped an arm around the guy’s neck, cutting off his air until he sagged. “Got some rope?”

“This a boat?” the captain said, grinning.

“Where’s your guard?”

The captain pointed his chin toward a corner where a man in a white uniform sat with plastic ties around his wrists and ankles. “He’s not a SEAL.” He jerked his chin to the man Dex had subdued. “Bastard there got the drop on him.”

“The blip on the radar their escape boat?”

“Yeah, how do you want to handle this?”

Dex glanced out the window to the diving platform. His men were boarding. He paused, not letting out a breath until Lace came into view. Justin climbed up behind her, holding the BCD and tank.

Dex looked back to the captain. “If you use the open radio to contact the shore, Troy will know we’ve got the bridge. He’ll barricade himself inside the lounge.” He cursed under his breath. “We can’t take them there. They have weapons. Troy says he’s not a murderer, but we have to hope he’s smart enough to know he can’t win this.”

He gripped a hand on the control deck and locked gazes with the captain. “My men will warn away the getaway boat. You radio the shore. Do you have anyone in the engine room?”

“Yeah, the crew below locked themselves inside as soon as we were overrun.”

“So you can get this boat moving?”

“Sure.”

“Do it. Head back to port. Radio ahead for an escort and to make sure we have law enforcement meet us at the dock. We’ll let them handle cleaning out the lounge.”

The captain nodded. “Good luck.”

Dex picked up the pistol from the floor. “Hate to leave you without any firepower.”

“I’ve got a flare gun.”

Without looking back, Dex left, speeding down the stairs to the middle deck where the lounge was situated. His men, uniforms dripping on the deck, raced toward him.

Behind them, Lace was fast on their heels.

“We have the bridge,” he said, passing Justin and giving his shoulder a quick pat. The other two of his crew leaned away, knowing he was heading straight for the woman whose face was pasty white and whose eyes were as large as a puppy’s.

She launched herself into his arms and wrapped hers tight around his neck.

Dex hugged her against his chest, holding her just as tightly, and swaying. When he let her down until her feet touched the deck, he gave her quick kiss. “I’m getting you to a cabin. You lock yourself inside. Don’t come out until we give the all clear.”

Easing her hold, she shook her head. “I won’t get in the way. I’ll do whatever you ask me to do. Just don’t leave me behind again. Please.”

Dex gave her a quick kiss. “Baby, this is what we do. I need to know you’re safe.”

Lace drew a deep breath. “Why can’t we all hide?”

The men around him chuckled softly.

And yeah, he wore a grin too. “We’re not storming the lounge, guns blazing. I promise you. We’ll cut off their escape. That’s all.” Above her head, he caught his men’s amused glances. “Their getaway boat is about ten minutes out. We’re going to encourage them to run for it.”

He set Hank and Johnny guarding the doors leading from the lounge, then he and Justin headed back down the stairs. At Lace’s cabin door, he gave her a gentle shove. “Go now. Lock the door behind you. Don’t open to anyone but one of my crew.”

She gave a nod and went quietly inside.

A moment later, he heard the snick of the lock. Then he and Justin raced back to the lower deck. They ransacked the dive crew’s stash and found an AK-47, a Glock, and ammunition. By the time Dex finished loading his magazine, the sound of another boat approaching could be heard above the yacht’s engines, which were starting up, humming under their feet.

Dex laid the barrel of his weapon over the rail. Sighting down it, he saw two men in a nondescript but powerful little racing boat. He fired a shot over the bow that shattered the glass in front of the two men, purposely between them.

The boat veered right, then made a wide circle around the yacht.

Justin and Dex moved around the boat, watching to see if the pair made the smart choice. One more circle around, and then they sped away.

“That felt damn anticlimactic,” Justin drawled.

Dex gave his friend a shove. “I’ve had enough excitement for the day.”

“We left that skiff adrift.”

“It’s got a GPS. We can send someone out to retrieve it after we get back to port.”

A whistle sounded. “Skiff off the starboard,” came the captain’s voice over the loudspeaker.

Dex and Justin ran to the other side of the boat. Dex lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, but the silhouette of the boat, a man standing behind the driver and holding an automatic weapon, reassured him.

Justin let out a whoop. “It’s ours.”

Dex waved up at the captain. For the first time since the cage had dropped into the ocean, he relaxed.

“Think our HQ already knows?” Justin asked.

Dex raked a hand through his hair, his mind ticking through his company’s protocols. “They’ll be sending in a replacement team. A mop up.”

Justin leaned against the rail, staring out at the boat that was coming at a fast clip. “We let them get the drop on us.”

“Troy and all his crew checked out. I don’t know what else could have been done.”

“Guess that’s for the suits to figure out.” Justin’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “They’ll be using us as a case study for years.”

Dex gritted his teeth. The least of his worries was the fact they’d been caught flat-footed. Still, the failure stung.

“Your girl’s got grit.”

Your girl. The words stabbed him. Dex swung his face toward Justin. “She was scared.”

“Kept her cool, though. She was sitting pretty under the boat, clutching that jacket and the tank. When she saw me, I know she thought something had happened to you. She went still. First words topside were, ‘Is he okay?’ Not a worry for herself. Wouldn’t let me ditch her while we ran to join you.”

Shouts rang out from the skiff as it pulled up alongside the swimming platform.

Dex slung his rifle over his shoulder and reached for the rope they threw. He tied off the skiff and waited silently while the team leapt to the platform, one at a time. Half a dozen of his men followed his instructions to begin searching for crew and passengers who might be hiding aboard the yacht. He added guards to the doors of the lounge.

“Guess it’s time to have a conversation with Troy,” he muttered.

Justin snorted. “Now we’ll see how smart he really is. He might like swimming with sharks, but he’s never had to deal with a boatload of SEALs.”

Chapter Eight

‡

Lace swirled a finger in her mojito as she leaned against the bar.

Mr. Halloran was throwing a victory party for his guests and the uppity-ups from Black Spear who’d descended on the estate shortly after dark.

Halloran’s guests were in high spirits. They’d had the adventure of a lifetime, something to tell their friends back home. Troy Bennett and his dive crew were sitting in a Bahamian jail. A team of investigators had taken statements from everyone, and accountants were busy returning funds to the passengers’ accounts. Troy had folded and provided the passwords to his Cayman Island accounts as a gesture of goodwill to prosecutors eager to appease the wealthy visitors to their island. What losses the passengers might take would further be covered by Halloran’s insurance. “All’s well that ends well,” he said, raising his glass for a final toast.

Lace lifted her glass and took a long swallow. She hadn’t seen Dex since he’d shoved her inside her cabin. Back at the estate, she’d watched from a distance as a helicopter landed, disgorging Black Spear representatives and taking on a team of black-uniformed passengers, Dex among them.

He’d left without a word. No doubt something his company required. A fresh crop of security guards now roamed the property.

“Do you think you’ll speak well of my little venture?” Mr. Halloran asked, sliding into the seat beside her.

She gave him steady look. “Why would you care? I don’t mean to sound rude, but you don’t need my recommendation.”

“I enjoyed your friend’s blog about her adventure in Central America.” He smiled and gave a wink. “Such an exciting experience. And I’m rooting for you. You’ve all come such a long way. A brand new office opening in Miami. Plans for expansion. Once upon a time, I was an entrepreneur just like you. I’ve been very lucky, and I believe in karma.”

She eyed him, curious where this conversation was going. “You had another motive for inviting me, didn’t you?”

His smile widened. “I did, indeed. What do you think about opening an office here? In the Bahamas?”

“People tend to book their travel with local agents.”

“This is the digital age, my dear. That’s old-school thinking.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Another of your plots to help the local economy?”

“Maybe. Say you’ll think about it. I could help with seed money. Find you an appropriate office space…”

She drew in a deep breath then let it go with a little laugh. “That’s a lot to take in.”

“You still have two days left to enjoy your vacation. Although, I’d guess the last thing you want is to take another excursion into deep waters. Enjoy my estate. Do some sightseeing. And if you’d like to take a few days more, please, be my guest.” He patted the counter, then rose, chuckling to himself as he walked away.

“He’s like Santa Claus,” came a familiar voice from right beside her.

Lace’s breath caught, and she closed her eyes. “I thought you’d left.”

“I was ordered to head back to the home office. That’s true. But I had unfinished business here. Personal business.”

She opened her eyes and twirled on her stool to face him.

He was dressed more casually than she’d ever seen him, wearing light linen trousers and a loose, short-sleeved shirt. From his quick perusal of her body, she was happy she’d made a little effort with her own appearance, having donned a black silky sheath that ended mid-thigh.

The urge to reach out and touch him was strong, but she resisted, simply enjoying the sight of him standing so close. He was looking at her, something gleaming in his eyes, a banked excitement that caused her to blush. She shook her head and laughed. “I should be angry with you. You’ve been here all along, and I’ve been worried sick.”

He held out his hands. “I had b—”

“Business to attend to, I get that. But you couldn’t have passed along a message? The Bahamian version of a SWAT team rousted me from my cabin and herded me together with the rest of the passengers. Hours passed before we heard that everyone was safe. I didn’t know what had happened to you.”

He raised a hand, fingers spread.

“Five minutes?” she asked, not understanding.

Gaze intent, he held out that same hand, waiting until she slid hers across it. Then, pulling her from her seat, he led the way through the big house, out the side door to the pathway lit by tiki torches.

They halted in front of her door, and once again, she slipped her key over her head and gave it to him. He unlocked the door, and then turned to her, scooping her off her feet to carry her over the threshold.

The action was romantic, wonderful—for all of five seconds, but then her anger flared. She kicked, scissoring her feet. “Put me down.”

He gave a grunt, but kicked the door closed behind him, not saying a word and certainly not lowering her to the floor. Inside, he strode straight down the hallway to her bedroom door.

“I’m not playing now. Put me down.” She landed with a flounce in the middle of the large mattress and quickly scrambled to her knees, ready to jump off the bed. After one look at him, she froze.

He wasn’t looking at her. His hands were on his hips, his gaze on his toes, and his breaths were steady and deep, as though he was gathering them, maybe gathering his courage.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, concern tightening her throat.

He shook his head, still not meeting her gaze.

“Dex…”

He held up a finger. One minute. His jaw tightened, and then he raised his head, spearing her with a hot, dark glance. “I’m sorry, Lace. So damn sorry.”

So, this was how he was going to break up with her? She dragged in a deep breath, ready to let him have it, but that breath caught on a sob. She lifted her chin, her eyes beginning to well with tears, which pissed her off even more.

They’d made no promises. He didn’t have to do this. She’d known all along he was bound to walk away.

“This was my fault. You were incredibly brave. That’s the only thing that saved you.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But I should have suspected Troy would do something like that. I’d had a bad feeling from the moment I walked up on his guys on the deck. But I was distracted. They wanted to neutralize me as a threat and knew exactly what my Achilles Heel was.” His gaze bored into her. “They knew I would do anything to keep you safe. Sacrifice my mission. Only by dumb luck did they decide there wouldn’t be any casualties, not if they could help it.”

Letting out a slow breath, Lace sat back. “Dex, I don’t blame you. Your own people don’t blame you. They ran background checks on every single soul aboard that yacht.” This she knew from the investigators who’d interviewed her. “This wasn’t your doing. It was Troy’s. He got greedy. Saw everything Halloran had, everything his guests took for granted, and he wanted it for himself. Why would you take his bad decisions on your shoulders?”

Dex shook his head, his jaw clenching so tight a muscle rippled along the sharp edge. “If you hadn’t followed my lead, hadn’t held your breath so long, had gulped even once, you wouldn’t have made it…” He swallowed hard. “I can’t stop thinking about that.”

She crawled closer on the mattress and reached out, grabbing one of his hands and pulling it to her chest, holding it there. “But we made it. Troy and his men are all in jail. Hell, they even found the getaway boat. Mutiny’s over. Everyone’s happy.” Not everyone. She wasn’t. He wasn’t. Her chest was tight, her eyes burning. But she held his gaze. “What’s this really about, Dex?”

He blew out a breath, his shoulders dipping, and then he sat on the bed beside her, holding her hand, his thumb rubbing the back. “I’m done. I quit. No more trips to the Indian Ocean. No more fucking pirates.” His head lifted and again, he stared into her eyes. “I’m staying here. Halloran offered me a job heading up his security—for this estate, for the businesses he’s started all over the islands.”

Hope blossomed in her chest, and her mouth began to curve. That wily old devil. “Do you think you don’t deserve this opportunity?”

“I get that Halloran’s happy we didn’t go in guns blazing.”

“He said you had Troy pegged, knew he would surrender once he realized he’d failed. No one was hurt. He was impressed.”

“But he shouldn’t have been.” He sighed, his mouth relaxing into a crooked smile. “My guys are all coming on board. The offer was good.”

She grinned, sniffing and teary-eyed. “Guess you’re set.”

“No, I’m not.” He squeezed her hand. “I want you to think about something. I’m not going to disappear; this doesn’t have to end, baby.”

Her heart beat fast. Suddenly breathless, she blurted, “What are you saying?”

“I know I’m just a regular guy working for my pay, but I’d like to see you again. I don’t want what we have to end, Lace.”

She frowned. “You think I’m not a ‘regular’ girl?—Ah.” This time her smile stretched wide. “Baby, I’m not rich, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not out of your league, although there wasn’t a woman on that boat who wouldn’t have traded shoes with me to enjoy a minute in your arms. I’m a travel agent. That’s all. And funny thing is, Halloran wants me on this island, too. I hadn’t considered the possibility seriously when he said it, but—”

Dex’s kiss was blistering hot and hard. His arms crushed her against his chest.

When she finally stole enough air to stop the room from spinning, she laughed. “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

His palm cradled her cheek, and his gaze focused on hers. “You’re telling him yes.”

“I am?” She arched a brow.

“We’ll get ourselves a bungalow on the beach.”

“We will?”

With a wide grin, he nodded. “You’re going to marry me.”

“A girl likes to be asked,” she whispered against a suddenly dry throat.

“But you don’t. You like to be told.”

“I do,” she breathed.

And then he kissed her again. When he pulled away a minute later, his glance cut across her silk dress. “It’s a pretty dress.

“A one-timer, I’m thinking.”

His grin stretched, just like the seams of her LBD once he inserted his hands at the hem and began to pull. With a loud rend, the three hundred dollar frock she’d bought just for the trip was reduced to rags. But she didn’t care.

He gathered her into his arms, moving her to the middle of the bed. Then kneeling, he ripped apart his own lovely linen shirt. Buttons rained, pinging on the floor and off her belly.

She laughed. Gone were the shadows that had deepened when she’d thought they were done, that they’d never stand a chance, and would continue living on opposite sides of the planet. Now, they had a chance to explore, to figure out if what they had was really lasting. Despite his command, she was going to make him wait.

Dex looked down at her, confusion mingling with desire. “We’re really going to do this.”

She lifted her arms, inviting him closer. “Make me.”

*

Hands settled on her shoulders a second before a kiss brushed her cheek. “Hi, Susan, Maya,” Dex said as he settled on the chaise beside Lace.

Images from the screen of her friends blowing kisses at her new husband had Lace’s smile widening.

“Hi, cutie! Love the boxers. Told you, Susan,” Maya said from her desk in Miami.

Susan rolled her eyes. “It’s so not fair. You’re all so…married!” she said, shuddering delicately. “What I envy is the weather. How’s the cruise?”

Lace waved a hand. “The new yacht is fabulous. Mr. Halloran gave us the honeymoon cabin.”

The pretty blonde leaned closer to the screen, a fine brow arching. “You planning to swim with the sharks?”

“Hellz no! This trip’s strictly an island hop. We’re sightseeing,” she said, turning to eye the wide expanse of Dex’s bared chest.

Her friends laughed.

“Guess the business meeting’s over,” Susan said, a hint of envy in her voice. “Enjoy the rest of your honeymoon!” Her hand lifted, her forefinger hovering over her keyboard in the chat window, and then she was gone.

Maya leaned over her desk. “No worries. Keep her off her laptop, Dex.” And then her image too was gone.

Dex reached for the laptop and closed it, setting it on the table beside Lace’s chaise. He fingered the strap of her bikini top. “That for their benefit?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she lifted a brow. “I’m a married woman now. I can’t be flashing your friends.”

A chuckle shook his chest. “They’re lowering the anchor in five.”

“And…”

“I have a picnic basket packed. They’ll drop us on the beach. How’s that sound?”

Her interest sparked. “Will we be alone?”

“Completely.”

“For how long?”

“Until I call for a skiff to pick us up.”

“Long enough then.” Lace slid her tongue across her top lip.

Dex laughed.

She liked seeing him this way, happy and carefree. The adjustment from his high-stress job escorting transport ships to a corporate security honcho had happened effortlessly. Only rarely did he don commando gear to escort a yacht, and only because he liked keeping in touch with his clients and his crews.

Her own adjustment, opening an office in a spare bedroom of their bungalow and selling vacation packages via the Internet, had been just as easy. She and her partners were still seeking office space somewhere on Grand Bahama Island, but there wasn’t any rush. Plus Mr. Halloran repeated his promise to help grease wheels whenever they were ready.

For now, she was content with her life and with the much-slower pace. More often than not, she and Dex spent their off-hours aboard a boat, island-hopping with their friends. He was in the process of purchasing their own boat and slip.

She marveled over the changes in their lives these past three months. The most wonderful was discovering that their love wasn’t something transitory. It deepened every day. “I’ll need plenty of sunscreen,” she said slyly.

“In my favorite flavors. Already packed.” He slipped his hand into a pocket of his swim trunks and pulled out his latest, favorite accessory. The rubberized alligator clamps were strung together on long chain, perfect for a tug at just the right moment.

Nipples already tingling, she accepted his hand as he stood.

He dragged her straight into his arms. “I love you, Lace Haygood.”

“Can’t say that often enough, can you?” she drawled.

“Yeah, you had to know Lace McElhannon-Haygood was never gonna fly.”

Yeah, her SEAL was a tad possessive. Dominant in ways she was secretly thrilled to discover.

Fifteen minutes later, they waved away the skiff and walked slowly down the long, pristine strip of beach, watching birds run from the gentle waves, warm sand sifting through their toes. They found the perfect spot to spread a blanket behind a rock outcropping. Near enough to hear the waves lap at the shore, but secluded from anyone with a pair of binoculars who might be keeping tabs on them from aboard the boat.

Lace held her hair to the side as Dex untied her bikini top. A minute later, he tossed away her bottoms. She laid back on the blanket, shaded from the bright sunlight by his large body settling over hers. “I love you,” she said, never tiring of saying the words.

Dex smiled and rested on his elbows, his naked body growing aroused against hers, but they were both content to take their time. They had all the time in the world. The rest of their lives together.

Lace’s languor dissipated quickly as his arousal grew more insistent. She raked her nails down his back, digging into his firm buttocks.

His knowing eyes darkened. He leaned to the side and slid a hand between them, caressing a breast before sliding downward until he cupped her sex. Fingers spread her folds, and his thumb toggled her clit.

She drew up her knees, her inner thighs clenching his hips. “The first time can be fast. You won’t hear any complaints.”

He chuckled, hips flexing as he found her entrance and slowly pushed inside. With an easy rocking motion, he began the dance, his gaze noting every gasp and shiver as he quickened his thrusts.

“Did you ever think we’d wind up like this? Here?” she said, shuddering when he tunneled deeper.

He shook his head and came to his knees, his arms hooking beneath hers to lift her butt off the ground. Now he had complete control as he stroked.

With a sigh, she melted around him, gazing up at him, thankful she’d met him, happy as she’d never been before. She’d landed herself a hero, a man who’d fight for them, but who preferred simpler pleasures. Ones centered around her and the promise of family she held deep inside her womb.

“I hope he looks like you,” she whispered as she watched his features tighten.

“She’ll be beautiful, like her mother. Smart and brave.” He powered faster, his head dropping back as he slid in and out of her body, pumping faster.

Tears pricked her eyes, just looking at him, so strong and proud. She’d never take for granted this gift of love, this bounty of quiet joy.

*

About the Author

Delilah Devlin is an award-winning author of erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing edgy stories with complex characters. Ms. Devlin has published over a hundred twenty stories in multiple sub-genres and lengths with Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Kensington, Kindle, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing. In 2014, she will add Grand Central to her list of publishers when HER ONLY DESIRE releases! Learn more about Delilah at www.delilahdevlin.com.

Check out the prequel to her story, Mutiny’s Bounty:

Dangerous Liaison

Warrior

Crossfire Series Book Five

Gennita Low

PUBLISHED BY:

GLow World

The Warrior (Crossfire Series)

Copyright © 2014 by Gennita Low

ISBN-13: 978-0-9914742-0-2

EPUB Edition

Cover Photo by HotDamn Romance Covers

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

Warrior (Crossfire Series). Copyright © 2014 by Gennita Low. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Gennita Low and GLow World e-books.

To Father and Mother

Ranger Buddy, my Warrior Friend

Stash, my Secret Warrior

Dedicated to all the warriors, those in the crossfire,
who bravely served or are serving.

Special thanks to Sandy Stills who witnessed the birth of Cumber
in the pink room and Karen King for copy editing.

PART ONE

Chapter One

‡

He could hear the story being passed around his team now. The Stooges pretty in pink. The Stooges spent a night together on a pink four-poster bed. The Stooges had pink bathrobes and slippers.

“Ya gotta admit, Cumber, pink is sexy.”

“I prefer them on my women, hidden away for my pleasure,” he said.

“True, but maybe this room was meant to be inspiring, right, Dirk?”

“Mink, if you’re sporting a boner, you get to sleep on the floor.”

Lucas Branson, AKA Cucumber by his SEAL team mates, came from a family of warriors. His father was an Airborne Ranger of the 173rd, the biggest, baddest fighting group of men ever. His cousins were scattered around the world, playing war games in special operations and doing what warriors do best, bringing down the enemy. He came from a family of tall men, big hulks descended from, as his father liked to tell him when he was a kid, giants who ruled the earth. And he’d grown up believing his father as he grew up towering over shorter men and taking lessons to become the next warrior-in-line in a family fueled by competition and medals.

And now he was a SEAL, the U.S. Navy’s special operations force specializing in sea, air and land where the biggest, baddest group of boys resided. His team mates were his best friends and part of the family, and he didn’t let anybody get to him. They called him Cucumber—Cumber for short—because he always kept his cool, no matter the situation.

But not tonight. Tonight, he was thinking about killing his sister. He loved her very, very much, but yeah, he might just strangle her.

He stared up at the bright pink canopy above him with its frilly lace and big bows and drooping flowery shit with children’s faces inside them, all smiling down on the bed’s occupants. Strings of pink pearls dangled, waving gently.

It had to be a slow death. Because he knew she was laughing her ass off right now. A slow, painful…

“Hey, Cumber, how big is your dick?”

“I’m in a fucking pink bed with two men in a fucking pink room. My head is resting on a fucking pink pillow the shape of a pink flamingo. I’m not discussing my dick with you.”

“But what else can you talk about on a pink bed in a pink room?” Dirk insisted. “Unless you want to chitchat about the pearls and bows. Or the cupids around the pink mirror. I was mesmerized by them while using the pink hairdryer.”

Mink sighed loudly. “I need a dose of manhood. Let’s talk about Cumber’s dick. A huge dick should cure us from an overdose of estrogen. Come on, Cumber, how big is your dick?”

Lucas ignored his friends. His sister…what was the best way for revenge? Maybe he could sit on her till she begged for mercy. Except, she had a black belt and as a big brother, he’d taught her quite a few moves to protect herself. He used to hide her favorite toy, but at their age he needed something a bit more…painful.

“You know he’s got the biggest dick of all of us,” Dirk said, “so why the need to know?”

“If it’s so damn big, why didn’t he have the balls to say no to the Pink Room?”

Lucas closed his eyes as his two friends, having made their point, roared out laughing. They were very close buddies—they were often called the Stooges—so close they could ad lib a whole comedy routine without a script on the spot. He’d known one was coming the moment they’d stepped into the Pink Room, the “most popular” suite at his aunt’s B&B.

The laughter went on for a good minute, till his friends were holding their stomachs and choking. He lay there, waiting for it to subside. He could turn on the TV, except holding on to a pink sparkly remote would just set them off again. He stared resolutely at his feet at the end of the bed, peeking out of the dark pink comforter. Yeah, if he had time, he’d sew up Lulu’s sleeping bag so the next time she went out camping, she would get a nice surprise when she tried to crawl in and stretch out after a long day hiking. Except that kind of revenge took too long to realize. He wanted to get back at her now.

“You know, Cumber,” Dirk finally gasped out, “when she said, ‘The Pink Room will be perfect for you and your gentlemen friends to relax in,’ I was having visions of your stately aunt being the madam of a secret boudoir, especially when she added, ‘You’ll find lots in the room for entertainment. Enjoy yourselves, boys!’ I thought maybe she was pulling our legs or something. I never expected this!”

Dirk spread his arms out to include the whole room. Mink, lying in the middle, pushed one arm away.

“Watch it. You’re encroaching on my pink space.”

“Yeah. She gave us one four-poster bed, dude,” Dirk continued. “What was she thinking?”

“The place is booked up. This was the only suite available,” Lucas said. “My aunt probably thought we would be happy with the biggest room she could put us in.”

“Man, didn’t she know we sleep on submarines? We can crawl in one of her closets and take our naps there,” Mink said.

“Yeah, but we wouldn’t be tucked in and enjoying our pink featherbeds, yo.”

“Look, I know you two are doing me a favor using our time off to help my aunt and sis move furniture, so I’m taking your digs without retaliation,” Lucas said, affecting a yawn. “What’s the big deal? Just fucking close your eyes and pretend you’re lying in a muddy river already. Me? A bed is a bed. We’ll be out of this place in two days, tops. Then we can go party somewhere for 24 hours before we head back. Now turn off the damn lights.”

“I can’t. I need a drink first to get the smiling pink cherubs from haunting my dreams tonight.”

“Cucumber, go get us a drink. You owe us. The pink fridge is at your side of the bed, anyway. And oh, the pink bottle opener is hanging…”

The sound of the door unlocking cut off the rest of Mink’s sentence. Lucas turned his head, full attention on the door. Someone outside kicked it wide open. His sister popped her head in and a big flash blinded him.

“Surprise, pink SEALs!” He heard her yell out as she ran off. “Picture is on ‘My Friends Space’ page!”

Lucas jumped off the bed and chased the shadowy figure as she made off, laughing, down the corridor. He heard Mink and Dirk behind him, following along.

Must get back that camera.

Must. Kill. Sister.

The B&B was a big mansion, with many hiding places. His sister, like Lucas and his team, was barefoot, her feet making barely a sound as she climbed the stairs. He took the steps three at a time, hoping they wouldn’t creak too much. The chase must be done on the quiet. They had their aunt to consider. And the guests, too.

Going up was good. That meant she was heading to the private section, away from the guests. The only obstacle was his aunt’s apartment also being up here, so if his sister managed to slip in there before he got to her, she would be home free. No way was he going to bother his sleeping aunt, what with him and his team mates shirtless and wearing only shorts…shit…he just remembered Mink had only his underwear on. Fuck. Please God, don’t let Aunt Clementine walk out of her rooms. Because he didn’t want to explain to the family how a naked SEAL buddy sent their proper, very Southern aunt into a conniption fit in the middle of the night.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mink in his tighty whities scaling to the next story using the wooden banisters. With him snapping at her heels and Mink cutting off her escape route, his sister was going to be trapped between them any moment now. She reached the top of the landing, saw her problem, tried to dive through Mink’s legs, got tangled and up-ended him. Lucas heard muffled ouches and oomph’s as he reached them. He took a step nearer to apprehend their target.

A door suddenly opened and a shadowy figure jumped on top of Lucas’s back with a “Hoo-ah!,” startling all four of them who were already out there. A puny arm curled around his neck, trying to force him back. The new attacker weighed less than a sack of flour but Lucas realized Dirk, who was covering his six, wouldn’t know that. Not wanting to hurt his sister’s sidekick, he curled his arms under the assailant’s knees, twisted sideways against the corridor wall and sat down, thus imprisoning the assailant. One thing registered quickly. Whoever it was had very nice, silky smooth, bare legs, which were now paddling hard like a panicked creature, trying to kick him. The puny hand around his neck reached down and grabbed a handful of his chest hair.

“Ow!” Lucas growled, tugging at the hand. He slid his hands up from under his prisoner’s knees and grabbed a handful of silky smooth ass. His assailant squealed.

“Get off, you goof!” He heard his sister’s demand coming from a few feet away.

“No way,” came Mink’s reply. “I think you have something that belongs to…”

Another door opened. The landing was suddenly flooded with light. Cucumber blinked. Everyone froze.

“Lucas Samson and Lucille Belle Branson! What’s going on out here? Oh my goodness! Mr. Mink!”

Lucas closed his eyes. Aunt Clementine in curlers and pearls. Definitely a sight that would doom any warrior’s rage.

*

In hindsight, Kit admitted she shouldn’t have run out of her room, yelling “Hoo…ah!” at the top of her lungs, and jump on a big SEAL. And was he big. Lulu had said her brother was much taller, and Lulu was almost six feet tall. Lucas Branson wasn’t only taller, but he was broader too. Riding on his back felt like she was mounting her uncle’s prized bull, and one whose bare back she was squished against and tasting right now.

Her hand, lost somewhere around his chest area, found hair. She pulled hard.

“Ow!”

In retaliation, a big hand cupped her rump and squeezed. She squealed and took a bite at the naked back. Argh. What was the man made of, granite?

She heard muffled voices—one of them Lulu’s—and tried to peer from behind the warm body…how many of these guys were there? Lulu had told her over the phone she had a mission to prank her brother tonight, but she’d thought he was here alone. When she’d arrived, Lulu was already in excitement mode and ready to make her move, giving her the bare-bones details of her plan as she made off with a flashlight and her phone.

Right now, it sounded like a game of twister going on, with body parts squished and tangled and people making noises. Suddenly, the hall light came on.

“Lucas Samson and Lucille Belle Branson! What’s going on out here? Oh my goodness! Mr. Mink!”

Oh-oh. It was Miss Clementine. Eeek.

The hard body holding her prisoner shifted, although, she noted, his hand was still grasping her ass. A low male voice rumbled through the wall of flesh.

“Sorry, Aunt Clementine. Why don’t you…uh…go back to bed? We’ll straighten up out here.”

“But why are you all on the floor outside my rooms? And why is Mr. Mink without any pants on?”

What? Kit tried to budge the muscled wall trapping her. One of them is naked? And Miss Clementine got to see him and she didn’t? Move, you lug head, move!

“I’m sorry, Miss Clementine, truly,” she heard another male voice say, sounding slightly sheepish.

“I think you should get off Lucille and make yourself decent, Mr. Mink. And I may be old but I can see your hands hanging off my banister, Mr. Dirk. How long do you think you can hide like that without falling and causing damage to my staircase, young man?”

There was a small pause. Then a creak and a thud.

“Sorry, Miss Clementine.” The third male voice sounded meek. “It’s all Cucum…I mean, Lucas’, fault.”

“I will get to him in a moment. Miss Kit-Ling, is that you behind Lucas?”

Oh, now she was in deep doo-doo. Miss Clementine was going to be aghast at her attire. She moved her head, resting her cheek on the back-that-would-not-move.

“Yes, it’s me,” she replied. “I can explain, really.”

“Lucas, can you tell me why you’re sitting on Miss Kit-Ling? I don’t even think you’ve met.”

Finally, the-back-that-would-not-move came alive. It shifted, giving her some space.

“We…just met, Aunt Clementine,” that deep voice rumbled. “It was just an accident. It was dark and someone fell and we all sort of tried to catch Lulu quietly so she wouldn’t wake you up. Totally failed operation, that’s all. It was actually all Lulu’s fault.”

“Hey, don’t get me in trouble,” Lulu protested.

“You started it!”

“You didn’t have to send your boys to do the dirty work of…oh, I give up. Aunt Clementine, go to bed. It’s my fault. I tripped and fell.”

“Humph. That doesn’t explain the inappropriate attire. You’re all acting like…” There was a soft sigh. “We courted differently in my days, that’s all. I’m going back to bed. We’ll have a talk in the morning. Can I expect better attire?”

“Yes, ma’am,” everyone mumbled.

Kit cocked her head, listening. When she heard Aunt Clementine’s soft footsteps move through her doorway, which then clicked shut, she tapped Mr. Granite-Back on the shoulder.

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting about the spider I’m squashing,” Lucas mocked, getting up.

Air. She took a deep breath. Goodness, that body was hot. She blinked and looked up at the whole man. Miles and miles of man. She exhaled loudly. Oh, my goodness. That body. Was. H-h-hot.

She’d seen Lulu’s brother in some photos before. Graduation, some camping trip with Lulu’s family, a bearded and scruffy guy with a backpack—she hadn’t really paid much attention. Her own father and brothers were Airborne Rangers, so she’d seen enough military guys not to notice much beyond their short haircuts, neat uniforms and tendency for machismo. Lucas Branson was just a name, her friend’s brother who was in the navy.

However, Lucas Branson in person? Wow.

There were miles of legs to admire. And above those shorts, a narrow waist that broadened into a hairy chest. Whose hairs she’d pulled. She tilted her head back and met a pair of amused eyes.

“You thinking of sleeping there tonight?”

Dammit. He’d caught her looking. His hand was extended, offering to help her up. She placed hers in his. He pulled her onto her feet with ease.

“I was catching my breath,” she explained huffily. “Something heavy was cutting off all my air.”

“I wasn’t leaning back too hard,” he said. “Besides, you bit me.”

“You pinched my…” She cut off the word “ass” and looked around. “…me. Oh, no wonder Miss Clementine sounded so horrified.”

There was a mostly naked SEAL on top of Lulu. And he was holding her down as if he was never going to let go. He was smiling down at her friend, though, who was looking spitting mad.

A flash of light. Kit turned her head. Another man was standing by the stairs with his smart phone in one hand.

“Yeah, tit for tat. Now if she posts, we can put this pic up.”

“Ha, you think that’s going to scare me off putting up a pic of three SEALs snuggling in a pink bed?”

“Maybe we should dangle her by her feet over the banisters. That should be scary enough,” Mink suggested. “What do you say, Cucumber? Permission to dangle your sister till she cries for mercy, sir!”

Kit blinked. Cucumber?

She glanced back at the man beside her and suddenly realized he was still holding her hand. And also looking at her as if he wasn’t going to let go. Something dropped like an anchor in her gut.

“You do what you have to, Mink,” Lucas said, his gaze still holding Kit’s, “although I suggest keeping it on the quiet side. We don’t want my aunt out here witnessing the pain and torture.”

“Don’t worry. Lulu isn’t going to make much noise. She can’t have anyone witnessing her humiliation. Where shall I take the prisoner, sir?”

“Don’t care. No longer interested. You take care of the problem for me, Mink and Dirk.”

Kit found herself pulled away from the wall toward the stairs. “Hey,” she said. “Where…are we going? I’m not…dressed!”

Her protest brought those hypnotic eyes to her body. The night was warm and she was wearing her camisole and matching panties.

“Me neither,” Lucas said. “Dare ya to come along. I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”

“You aren’t leaving me here with Mink and Dirk!” Lulu protested. “Mink, you let go right now or I swear I’ll hurt you the moment I’m free.”

“I want to hear pleas of mercy, not threats, from my prisoner,” the guy on top of Lulu said, a big smile still on his face.

The man—Mink?—seemed to be having a lot of fun, but maybe she should come to her friend’s aid. Kit tried to shake her hand loose. “I should help Lulu. Besides, I don’t even know you.”

“If you know my sister, she has a black belt and can take on Mink.”

“Ha, I would but I don’t want to break any bones!” Lulu said.

“You see, that doesn’t help your situation at all,” Mink said. “Next you’ll threaten to kill me and then where would that leave us? I’d have no option but to tie you up and do bad things to you. Hey, got some rope, Dirk?”

“I’m out of here,” the man by the stairs said. “Third wheel and all that. Things look pretty much in control here.”

Third wheel, what? She wanted to get out of there too and just forget about the whole thing. It was bad enough to be caught by Miss Clementine out here with “improper attire” on. She was sure it would be mentioned to her mother and then her father would hear about it. That was all she needed, another long talk with her already paranoid parents.

“Hey, uh, no,” Kit interrupted. “I…I really think we should all just go to bed. Oh shit. I didn’t mean that! Not that way!”

Her face felt as if it was on fire as all three men started laughing. Even Lulu was cracking up.

Lucas scratched his chin. “What way?”

Kit sniffed. She looked down pointedly at her hand still in his. “You can let go now.”

“What if you jump on my back again and pull my chest hair?”

Lulu snickered. “Next time, Kit, pull some out.”

Kit rolled her eyes. Her hand felt strangely cold after having been in his warm grasp. “Okay, getting in the middle of sibling fights was obviously a mistake. Bad habit from having my own pack of brothers. Lulu, I so wanted to help you, but you look quite…happy…right now. So I’m off. Really, I’ve got to get some rest because we’re moving furniture tomorrow bright and early, remember?”

That was why she was here, to help Lulu out. Miss Clementine was getting up in years and had decided to leave her favorite niece the B&B as her inheritance. Lulu was super-excited because she had loved the old restored mansion and her aunt was going to show her the ropes of running a B&B. Kit was excited for Lulu too. Her friend had a great deal of talent at management and creative decoration, and a B&B like this would be perfect for someone who loved to micro-manage as much as Lulu.

“Hey, don’t leave me with them!” Lulu pleaded now. “You heard their threats. They’re going to dangle me off the rails! Mink, if you don’t let me up, I swear I’m going to post that pic all over the place and then you’ll be sorry.”

“Ha, I think this one needs more convincing she’s no longer in control, Sir!” Mink said.

“And stop addressing my brother and asking permission for everything! I’m going to—”

“You have my permission to torture her,” Cucumber interrupted. “Of course, leave no marks and make sure she can still carry some furniture in the morning.”

“Aye, sir!” Mink got to his feet, hauling Lulu up in one swift motion and pulling her toward another door. “Come on, you and I are going to work out your form of punishment unless you give me that camera.”

Lulu kicked out. Mink jumped back. Lulu opened the door to her room and ran in. Mink dived through it before the heavy door closed with a thud. Silence.

Kit coughed. “Umm. My brother would never allow another guy to manhandle me like that.”

“Have you ever taken a picture of your brother in The Pink Room?”

Kit’s eyes widened. Lulu put three SEALs in The Pink Room? She couldn’t help herself. She grinned. “Nope. But now I’m going to have to.”

“If you did, would he retaliate?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but he wouldn’t send two of his friends after her.”

“Hey, I’m not in there,” Dirk interrupted. “In fact, I think I’m going to head off to The Pink Room to stare at some pink cherubs.”

Lucas was looking at Kit so intently she was starting to feel uncomfortable. “I think you should go too,” she said softly.

“I’m giving Mink five minutes,” Lucas stated, just as softly.

Kit rolled her eyes. “I hope Lulu is kicking his ass.”

Lucas’ slow smile made her feel hot and cold at the same time. He leaned one big shoulder against the wall.

“Let’s not talk about my sister and Mink behind that door,” he said. “What’s your name and I like your nightie very much.”

Kit had worn less at the pool but this man’s hot gaze made her feel totally exposed. He was too close, and knowing how hard his body was against hers added to the odd tension in the air.

She stuck out her hand, trying to make things normal. “I’m Kit, a friend of Lulu’s. It’s actually Kit-Ling but most people call me Kit.” She chose to ignore his second remark about her clothing. “And you’re Lucas, the brother.”

He took her hand but he didn’t shake it. “Kit-Ling. I like that. Moi malenkei kotonok.” His smile was slow and devastating. “Very fitting.”

“Huh? Moi what?” Kit frowned. It must be the late hour that was making her do dumb things because she had just given him her hand again. “What did you just say?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “Not telling you till you agree to go out with me.”

She swallowed. “You’re quick.”

“I could be quicker, if you like. But mind you, we’re still outside my aunt’s door.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Mink will be coming out soon. Give me an answer.”

“Hey, a girl needs to think about these things. We’ve just met.”

“You climbed my back. I like the feel of your…you…against me. Let’s kiss and see how we like that.”

She stared at him, then narrowed her eyes. Boy, the man had a one-track mind, didn’t he? “You went from asking me for a date to a kiss. Not very subtle, are you?”

He shook his head again. “Subtle doesn’t work in life. At this moment, the way you look, subtle is the last thing on my mind.” He took a step closer, a gleam in his dark eyes “What do you say, a kiss, and if you like it, a date? I bet you’re going to like both. Very much.”

She cocked her head. Confident devil. She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Correction. Confident and handsome devil. “My brother has a name for SEALs like you. He’s Airborne, you know.”

Lucas flashed her a wicked grin. “My sister calls me names too. Do you think I’d worry about what an Airborne cupcake calls a SEAL?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ooooh. Nice. Airborne Cupcake. I’ve got to remember to use that and tell him who passed on that nickname to me. I’ll bet he’d want to make you his cupcake, then.”

“Nah, not into pissing contests.” His voice lowered. “I’d rather be your cupcake. Come on, take a bite.”

It was so awfully tempting. Kit knew a lot about SEALs, having interviewed and talked to them in her job. Being a public information associate for a web-based broadcasting service had its perks. But her interaction had never been this up close and personal, and in the present surroundings, in her current state of undress, it was very difficult to pretend to be professional.

She stood on her tippy-toes.

And bit him on the lower lip gently.

He pulled her closer and his lips caught hers. Her free hand came up against the rock cliff that was his chest. She felt his free hand on the small of her back. She opened her mouth in protest. His tongue delved in. And in a split second, there was no space between them. Like she’d said, he was damn quick.

*

Lucas was never one to wait too long about anything. His lifestyle didn’t promote that kind of philosophy. Live for the moment. Do it now; you might not have a second chance. Enjoy the things a man should enjoy—pretty women, good food, simple things.

People might say that was a really shallow way to live. Well, yeah, tote an AK-47 and fifty pounds of ammo up and down mountain terrain or run through the desert on one can of water while going after people who shoot back, asshole. Then come talk to him about simple things and shallow living.

Normally, cupcakes weren’t his style. For one thing, they were often too small and sweet and gone in one bite. But damn if this particular cupcake didn’t taste fine. She wasn’t too small for just one taste either. She fitted his body fine too. He could think of a dozen naughty ways of fitting inside her and sinking his teeth into this delectable morsel.

She was kissing him back boldly. He liked that. In fact, he liked a lot about this woman so far. She had a saucy tongue and the way she’d joined in to help Lulu suggested someone who didn’t think too much before jumping into the fray of things. If that was true, the next couple of days looked very promising indeed.

He slid her hand down his chest, enjoying the feel of her nails scraping lightly across his skin. She made a sound in her throat and snuggled closer. He explored the curve of her back and moved lower. She arched against him. Oh yeah.

The sound of a door opening interrupted his amorous line of thought.

Damn, damn, damn. Not Aunt Clementine again.

“Ahem.” It was Mink. Then, a little louder, “ahem, ahem.”

With great reluctance, Lucas lifted his head. “I heard you the first time,” he said.

“Sorry,” Mink said, “but Lulu is coming out in a sec and I thought you’d better not tempt her to take another photo with her camera.”

Lucas cocked a brow. “Is the mission accomplished?”

“Oh, yeah. Deleted. Rechecked. And the perp properly punished.” Mink grinned his trademark flash of a smile, teeth white against his tan. “Very properly.”

Hmm. The few times they’d been together, he’d noticed Mink showing signs toward his sister. “I see,” Lucas said. “I hope you didn’t cross the line. You are, after all, in your underwear and were in a room with my sister.”

“I’m still in my underwear, aren’t I?” Mink pointed out solicitously.

A tap on his shoulder. Lucas looked down. “Yes, Cupcake?”

She frowned. “No, that’s what you are, remember?” She reminded him politely. “You’re the cupcake and I was invited to bite you.”

Oh yeah. He ignored Mink’s smirk. He had to remember the woman had a brother and probably knew many insidious ways to get back at men. And that brought back Mink’s warning. Lulu. He let go of Kit reluctantly.

“I’m doing this under duress,” he told her in a soft voice. “Another time, I’d insist on a bigger bite.”

Her face had a pretty flush, even though she rolled her eyes. Before she could answer, the door behind Mink opened and Lulu came out, looking defiant as she gathered her hair into a ponytail.

Lucas turned, crossed his arms and gave her his best big brother look. “Are we done playing?” he asked. “Because you know you’ve lost this one.”

“Oh, I’ll get another chance,” Lulu said airily. She gestured to Kit. “Come along. We have things to discuss.”

“Umm. Can I just go to sleep?” Kit asked, in a hopeful voice. “It is pretty late.”

“Traitor.”

Kit put up her hands in surrender. “Okay. Nighty-night. Not going to stand out here all night.”

“Yeah, you’re keeping Aunt Clementine awake,” Lucas chimed in.

His sister took the bait. “Oh no, you’re not making me out to be the bad guy, brother. This was for what you did the last time and I’m going to tell Aunty Clementine all about it.”

Lucas grinned. The seeds of future vengeance had been planted. He turned to Kit. “Goodnight,” he said, letting his gaze do the talking.

He couldn’t see the exact shade, but her eyes were a pretty lighter color. There was amusement in them and then she winked, as if she knew what he was up to.

“’Night.”

He sent Mink a look and they started down the stairs. Behind him, the girls were speaking softly.

“Traitor,” his sister reiterated, although she didn’t sound indignant. “You sided with my horrid frog brother.”

“Aw, he’s a cupcake.”

Lucas’ grin widened. He was already hungry for breakfast. But first things first. The moment they were out of hearing, he casually asked, “Now, what did you do to my sister again?”

Mink scratched the back of his neck. That was usually a sign that he was skipping a few things in his story.

“I tackled her and snagged the camera. Then I sat on her while I deleted the photo.”

Lucas glanced at his friend briefly. “You know my sister can take down a man twice your size, right?”

Mink shrugged. “I sat on her hard.”

They reached the Pink Room. Lucas turned to Mink.

“I know she’s a grown-up now, but I feel obliged to give you that big brother warning, you know? Don’t mess with my sister’s feelings, man.”

Mink shook his head. He turned the door knob. “Hey, I’m taking it as slow as she wants, dude.”

Lucas put out a hand, stopping the door from opening wider. “Gotcha,” he said. “You have been messing around with my sister.”

Mink shrugged. “Your sister is a fine woman and I wouldn’t just mess around with her.” The light streaming out of the Pink Room caught the gleam in his eyes. “Is that the right answer?”

“Hey, you two having a secret pow-wow outside the door or what?” Dirk called out. “It’s freaking cold on this fucking giant bed without you two to cuddle next to. And the pink’s slowly killing me here.”

Lucas shook his head and let go of the door. “God help me and all lonely SEALs,” he said as he walked in. “Can we turn off the lights and get some shut eye now? Then we won’t see the pink till morning.”

“Sure, you two had your fun and I’m the lonely stooge cuddling up to the cherubs in here,” Dirk complained in a mournful voice.

“We’ll find you a real angel,” Mink promised.

“Lights out,” Lucas ordered.

“Hey, Cuke,” Mink said, in the darkness.

Lucas gave a loud sigh. He had hoped for some reprieve. But these were his buddies and he knew what was coming.

“Cupcake is a cutie,” Mink said.

“Cupcake?” Dirk asked.

“Yeah, he called her Cupcake.”

“Cucumber and Cupcake. Sounds like a fucking tea party.”

Ignoring the male chuckles, Lucas closed his eyes and stretched. Life was either hell or a party. Either way, he always had his best friends with him.

Chapter Two

‡

It was just a kiss. A very nice one, with a very hot-looking guy. That was all.

Kit tried to put it out of her mind as she got ready the next morning, but it was tough when Lulu kept teasing her about last night.

“So, what do you think of my brother?” She asked.

“Big dude. Moving furniture should be a piece of cake,” Kit answered, keeping her voice level.

“Uh-huh. He’s single and as far as I know, has no girlfriend. And you’re single too. Lucas is much better than that clueless guy you dated a month ago.”

Lord. The Bransons did not skirt around a topic.

Kit stuck out her tongue. “Are you trying to set me up with your brother now?”

“Hey, I’ve been trying to give him away since forever. Want him?”

“No, thanks. I have my own big brother to fight with.”

“Yeah, you two were fighting last night.” Lulu laughed as she ducked the pillow Kit threw at her.

Breakfast was going to be a noisy affair. Aunt Clementine kept everything very informal and the guests usually showed up between 7am and 10am for a buffet style Continental breakfast which was included with their stay. With five extra mouths, though, Kit and Lulu came down early to help in the kitchen, but Mrs. Talbot, the longtime cook, had everything under control. All they needed to do was set the tables outside and make sure there was enough fresh coffee made.

“My brother loves coffee. A dash of cream,” Lulu told her, as they moved around the tables in the dining room.

“And you’re giving me this tidbit of information why?” Kit asked, as she placed the cups on the serving platter.

“For your file, you know, the one you’re keeping for your project about military men.”

Kit snorted. “You’re just jealous I’m going off to spend some time researching about military stuff.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” Lulu mocked, putting the vase of fresh cut flowers by the window.

Although she aimed for informal, Miss Clementine wanted an Old World feel, so there were no plastic platters or containers, no paper napkins, nothing that “looked too modern.” The only concession she’d made were the very modern coffee pots sitting on the hot plates, but even those had pretty pink dollies underneath them.

Kit grinned. Miss Clementine must love pink.

Sounds of male voices carried down the corridor into the dining area. Even from here, she could guess to whom they belonged. They came in, looking disgustingly male—clean shaven, hair slicked back, alert eyes taking in their surroundings.

She studied the tallest of them surreptitiously. Okay, it was tough to be surreptitious when the specimen was at least six foot three and was standing only a few feet away. He was just as impressive-looking in daylight. Dark-haired, strong-jawed, tee shirt stretched to display broad chest, muscular arms and a narrow waist, followed by those memorable long legs in fitted jeans. It wasn’t just the good looks, but the whole impact of his absolute maleness—in his prime, strong, dominant. One couldn’t help but stare at the darn man. Nobody should look this delicious. Especially for breakfast.

To her chagrin—and secret delight—Lucas Branson was looking straight at her, with that unsettling intent-filled gaze from the night before. She made herself look busy, turning nonchalantly to Lulu to ask a question, but her girlfriend, it seemed, had eyes only for that other SEAL, Mink.

“Lulu,” Kit said. “Where are the smaller plates?”

Lulu blinked. “Oh. Umm, yeah. Let me get them.” She hurried off, leaving Kit alone with three hungry guys.

“Good morning,” Lucas greeted, a slow smile forming. “How was your night?”

“Good,” Kit replied. “Breakfast is buffet-style, so just get whatever you need, boys. Miss Clementine had an extra batch made just for you all. She said she knows how much you eat.”

Lucas sniffed the air appreciatively. “Yeah. We tend to eat a lot. Are you joining us?”

“In a bit.”

“Good. You look nice in pants too, even though I prefer last night’s outfit.”

Not as nice as he looked in shorts. “Don’t you ever stop flirting?” Kit asked, handing him a plate from the stack.

“I don’t flirt. I just state it like it is. Don’t I, boys?”

“Yeah,” Dirk agreed, as he scooped scrambled eggs onto his plate. “Lucas is all about statements.”

“Lucas’ statements are like bumper stickers,” Mink said, blowing on his coffee. “Every statement has style.”

Kit sniffed. “Did you take a shower? You two are full of it already and it’s still early.”

“Hey, now, we smell good!” Dirk sniffed at his shoulder. “Mink squirted me with some pink…what was that stuff you sprayed on me, bro?”

“French toilet water,” Mink said helpfully. “Pink French toilet water.”

The two of them laughed.

“Be careful, boys, she has Ranger brothers,” Lulu said, as she came in, arms loaded down with plates.

Mink got up and went to help her. “Yeah, we heard. That’s why your friend keeps sniffing so suspiciously. Rangers are notoriously smelly.”

Kit grinned. She was going to have some great lines for her brother when he got home. “No wonder he calls you guys cupcakes. Afraid of a little dirt.”

“What? I’ll have you know…”

“Remind me to let you smell my…”

“I’ll show him my cupcakes…”

The men all protested together after that and Lulu and she exchanged grins as they rolled their eyes.

“So easy,” Lulu mouthed. Aloud, she said, “Aunty Clementine said to join in and eat, Kit. Everything’s been taken care of already.”

Kit went to serve herself. Honestly, this place ran like clockwork and there wasn’t much she could do to help out. The hard work would come when they started moving the furniture. Lucas pulled out a chair across from where he was seated.

“Thank you,” she said. “How’s breakfast?”

“Good,” He helped scoot her chair in, leaned down and continued, “I like the tattoo on your lower back. How did you get it and what do you do for fun?”

His tone was low and intimate. It made her heart go pitter-patter. There was no polite back-and-forth inane conversation with this guy. “You know, there’s such a thing as social niceties,” she said and secretly grimaced at how prim she sounded.

“48 hours don’t allow for social niceties.” He leaned closer. “I want to get to know you better. That’s being nice, right?”

Kit spooned sugar into her coffee. “Nope. I call that rude. Desperate, even. Are you a desperate man, Lucas?”

“Sometimes.” He went back to his seat. “But I’m not there yet.”

She studied him as she took a sip. He gazed back at her, a serious expression betrayed only by the tiny quirk of his lips. Most women would find that directness very unsettling, but it was a refreshing change for her. Her job required her to use words carefully, to interpret what others meant when they said things a certain way. There were no such games with this man.

“Forty-eight hours?” she asked. “I thought you were in town for three days.” Lulu had supplied that piece of information.

The small quirk of his lips was now an amused curve. “It was my secret weapon. I was keeping the third day for desperate measures.”

She laughed and took a bite of her bagel. “Or maybe you’d be resting up, tired out by all the moving.”

His smile widened even more. He had beautiful straight teeth. “It depends on how much moving we do.”

Gulp.

Thankfully, Lulu appeared with a tray and sat next to her. She deposited some toast onto her brother’s plate, then turned to Kim.

“The trick is to keep his mouth occupied at all times. Then he can’t bother you with inane conversation.”

“You know, Mink tells me the same thing about you,” Lucas said.

Mink was drinking his coffee and started choking. Dirk helpfully thumped his back. Lulu tossed all three of them a glare, daring them to continue the conversation, but Lucas just ignored her, catching Kit’s amused gaze with his. Laughter lines crinkled the corner of his eyes, betraying his enjoyment of his sister’s discomfiture.

“Do you have the same problem with my sister, Kit?” he continued. “Yak, yak, yak, yak, yak.”

Lulu reached over and smacked his arm. Just then a couple of guests came into the dining room.

“Good morning!” one of them greeted.

There was a chorus of ‘good mornings’ and everyone settled back to eating. Kit breathed out a sigh. It wouldn’t have been good if the regular guests had come in a few seconds later in a middle of a sibling food fight.

As if reading her mind, Lucas said, in a low voice, “Don’t worry. We really know how to behave.”

Lulu snorted and whispered, “Yeah, like Kit’s going to believe you after last night.” She smiled at the guests. “Make yourselves comfortable. Sit anywhere you want.”

From then on, the boys were on their best behavior, charming two older women in their sixties who came and sat by them, asking them questions and joking with them about going out dancing.

Kit listened quietly, enjoying the friendly camaraderie and thinking about her job. Her request to broaden her public information role to include some field reporting had been approved and she was excited about the next meeting with the board so she could listen in on the plans for the next few projects. It would be great if she could work with Sean Castro and his ongoing assignment.

“You seem far away,” Lulu said, interrupting her reverie. “Planning your next reports?”

Kit shook her head. “I finished those before coming. Don’t want to do homework when I’m on vacay!”

Lulu smiled. “You consider helping me move a holiday?”

“Hey, good company, good food and hopefully, a night out with my girlfriend—that’s vacation, right?”

“True.” Lulu buttered her toast. “Once the boys move the heavy stuff, I can take care of the rest. We’ll go out then, ’kay?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, what about us?” Mink chimed in. “Don’t we get to have a night off?”

“Are you angling to be part of our girls’ night out, pack mule?” Lulu asked.

“Did you hear that? We’re nothing but pack mules,” Mink said.

“I think she’s calling you an ass, dude,” Dirk said.

“Maybe because she got her ass kicked last night,” Mink pointed out.

“What?”

Oh, oh. It’d started again. Kit looked across the table at Lucas. Her pulse raced into a gallop. He was watching her, totally ignoring his friends and sister. Everything around them seemed to recede into the background.

It’s just a look, Kit.

She wasn’t a shy person, never considered herself special in any particular way, but that look. Oh God. Focused. Intimate. Her insides churned and melted from the heat in his eyes. It made her feel very shy. And special.

This close, she could see his eyes weren’t brown or black, like she’d assumed. They were dark gray. The color of his tee shirt brought out hints of blue in them. Every time they settled on her, she was compelled to look back, wanting to know more about this man’s secret thoughts.

That made her want to laugh out loud. Lulu would tell her that men, and especially her brother, had no secret thoughts. She’d often scoffed at how easy it was to read men. Kit didn’t explain to her friend it was so for her because she was leggy, curvaceous and model-gorgeous. Lulu had this self-image that she was a regular tomboy and that was part of the fun of being her friend, watching Lulu wonder what was up with all these guys talking like nervous teenagers around her.

“Hey, Cumber, you didn’t answer. Are we doing anything as exciting?”

His eyes never left hers. “I’m making plans.”

“Umm, do they include us?” Dirk asked wryly.

“Maybe. Depends.”

Kit glanced down at her food. Food. Her light-headedness must be from the lack of food.

“You aren’t planning anything until you get to work,” Lulu interrupted her steamy thoughts. “And pack mules don’t get lunch if they don’t get started soon. Go on, shoo. Get the van unloaded.”

“Can I finish my coffee first?”

“Tough woman, man.”

“I think she just needs someone else to push around so we’re left in peace.”

“You volunteering, Mink?”

“Oh, sure, suddenly I’m relegated to become a target.”

“No, target is lunch, dude. You’re just distraction fodder. With Cumber’s permission, of course. Right, Cumber?”

“Humph. I’m getting tired of this asking for permission stuff,” Lulu interrupted the men’s banter. “I’ll be in the back, unloading, when you guys are ready. You coming soon, Kit?”

Kit took a quick swallow of the rest of her juice and got up. She snapped a salute. “Oh yes, right now, ma’am.”

Escape seemed like a good idea. Let the boys eat and then she’d deal with Lucas Branson later.

“See you guys later,” Kit said.

She deliberately didn’t glance at Lucas’ direction as she followed Lulu out, but felt his eyes on her all the way. She stopped to get an apple off the buffet table.

“Target escaping, dude,” she heard Dirk mocking Mink. “You should be the first to go help out the lady. You know she’s expecting you to run after her.”

“I’m playing hard to get,” Mink said. “Hey, Cumber, pass me the salt.”

Kit grinned to herself. Luckily, Lulu was out of hearing distance.

“What do you say, Cumber? Let the girls decide what stuff to move around first or go out and take over the whole operation?”

“Let’s wait a few minutes,” she heard Lucas say as she headed out. “I’m enjoying the view from here.”

Chapter Three

‡

Two nights later

“That woman is an organized taskmaster, dude!” Dirk said, giving the waitress a smile as she put the mugs of beer in front of them.

“She’d make a good sergeant,” Lucas agreed. He took a long gulp of the frothy brew. “Ahhhhh. Been wanting that all day.”

They had moved Lulu’s furniture into her suite of rooms the first day. Tricky business, maneuvering beds and desks up and down curvy wooden staircases. Getting the old furniture down from the upper rooms took a bit of brain and muscle. They had bought some tough ropes to lower some of the pieces over the banister. The heavier oak was a slower process, requiring a fair amount of quiet cussing.

After that, it was bringing up Lulu’s stuff. They had to disassemble her big work desk and part of her bed so it would fit through one of the smaller doorways. There were a couple of bookshelves and what seemed like five million boxes of books and clothes.

“How did they do all that moving in the old days, anyway?” Mink asked. “I know they had servants but that old oak furniture we moved down was massive and damn heavy. The girls would never have been able to do that themselves.”

When the truck which was supposed to pick up the older stuff for some charity didn’t show up, they had to move all the furniture from the curb to the back shed in the evening. Not a problem for the guys but the delay had caused extra work.

Dirk flexed a bicep and pointed to it. “Muscles. Just like the way we did it.”

“I bet they needed more than three men. We got Cumber. He’s worth at least two in strength.”

Lucas lifted a brow.

“Okay, three,” Dirk amended.

“Better,” Lucas said, amused.

“I don’t know, dude. ‘Men were like real men back during the wahr,’” Mink said, affecting Aunt Clementine’s soft Southern accent so accurately, it made them laugh.

Aunt Clementine had been something else. She was determined to “chaperone” the girls as much as she could and was constantly telling them tales from ‘back during the wahr.’ Lucas was never sure whether she’d meant the Civil War or the World Wars, but one thing was for sure, ‘during the wahr,’ men had been stronger than any today, more handsome, more courteous, more manly. Her aunt’s voice was dreamy when she had talked about her first love and how he’d courted her, and afterward, Lucas and the Stooges had jokingly wondered whether this lover was also from the Civil War.

“Well, what do you expect in Charleston? Many women I meet here have this thing about the Civil War. And then they look at me and don’t see Rhett Butler,” Mink said, putting two straws in his nose to make a mustache and then added, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a…gosh be-darn.”

“You are such an ass. Do you think Miss Clementine sees us as men?” Dirk asked.

“I’m sure she knows we go out and fight in wars,” Cumber said, “but I think she romanticizes the Civil War and sort of gets them all mixed up in her head. I’d imagine it gets like that when you have to tell the same Civil War history stuff about the mansion to your guests every day.”

“Man, I sure hope your sis doesn’t get to be like that when she runs the place,” Mink said. “Don’t want her to get those kinds of romantic notions about men and war.”

Lucas squinted his eyes at his friend who was still fiddling with his Rhett Butler imitation mustache, half-amused at the way he was trying to cut the straws with his pen-knife to the right length to fit above his lip. “Speaking of romantic notions and my sister, what kind are you contemplating with Lulu?”

Mink and Lulu. He’d had suspicions for a while now but these last couple of days had confirmed it. Mink had his eyes on his sister, and surprisingly, she didn’t seem to mind. He’d never thought about his sister being interested in his best friends and wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

“Oh-oh,” Dirk said and held up his mug. “Should I leave the table for this private brother to brother-in-arms warning?”

“Nah. I’m just asking,” Lucas said. “Well?”

Mink looked down at his beer. “Well, nothing. You know what I think about romantic notions. They’re for women. No offense, man. Your sister and I are just flirting, nothing more. She has a mansion to take care of and I have battles to fight.”

“Hey, sounds like a Civil War story to me,” Dirk quipped, then waved his mug at Mink. “Hey, joking here, Rhett.”

“Just don’t hurt my sister’s feelings,” Lucas said. “I don’t want none of that big brother must beat the shit out of his best friend crap in the future, you hear?”

“I think your sister can beat the crap out of me without your help, Cumber,” Mink pointed out dryly. He put on his straw “mustache” again. This time, they fit perfectly. “Scarlett O’Hara she ain’t.”

That was true. Lucas signaled to the waitress for another round. “Fine. Subject closed.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. Romantic notions, baby. How about Miss Kit there, big fella? We see you doing more than making eyes with her the last two days.” Dirk batted his eyes and affected Aunt Clementine’s accent too as he added, “Lucas, can you come back here and help Kit carry this? Oh, yes, Lucas, it’s such a beautiful evening, go take Kit for a walk.”

Mink snickered.

Lucas grinned. Kit was something else too. She’d found ways to slip from Aunt Clementine by putting the ideas into the older woman’s head. Dirk was exaggerating but he didn’t mind the teasing. He’d enjoyed the moments alone with Kit.

He looked behind Dirk and saw Lulu and Kit coming to their table. He made a small signal to his buddies.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the three stooges,” Lulu said. She turned and stared hard at Mink, who still had the shortened straws sticking out his nose. “What in the world is that above your lip?”

“My Rhett Butler mustache,” Mink said.

Kit laughed out loud. Lucas got up to bring a couple of extra chairs over.

“That looks disgusting. They wiggle when you speak.”

Mink half-closed his eyes. “I’ll have you know, Rhett Butler was considered dashing, sexy, manly, masterful, confident…”

“Arrogant, roguish, insufferable…” chimed in Lulu.

“Oy, adjectives give me a headache. I need more beer!” Dirk interrupted.

On cue, the waitress appeared with a tray of mugs. She deposited them and turned to get the women’s orders.

Mink nudged Lucas. “Notions tonight, yes?”

Lucas gave Mink a long look. “I don’t want to hear about your notions if it involved you-know-who, clear?”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

“But we want details on yours.”

Ignoring his two friends’ meaningful smirks, Lucas picked up his beer and turned to Kit. “It’s our last night together. Let’s do something memorable.”

She had on a pretty long-sleeved top with swirly patterns. And her hair fell in waves around her shoulders. He wanted to take her outside and be with her alone. He knew his friends wouldn’t mind, but his sister might, seeing that it was their “girls night out,” as they called it.

“I think these last few days have been pretty memorable,” Kit said, with a slight smile. She folded her thumb and fingers as she counted. “The Pink Room and imagining all three of you in that bed, Mink in his underwear, Dirk hanging off the balustrade, you carrying that huge armoire with that lampshade on your head, Miss Clementine’s shocked face when she caught you boys wearing the beads and laces, and now Mink with his Rhett Butler mustache.”

Her chuckles were infectious and they all joined in.

“Hey, it was Lulu who put the lampshade on Cumber’s head. He couldn’t do a thing because he had his arms full of that damn oak tree.”

“It’s an armoire,” Lulu corrected. “And he looked very nice wearing a lampshade.”

“And so did a dozen of your friends, seeing that you posted that picture online,” Lucas said wryly.

Lulu grinned. “I wish it was the first picture, in the pink bed with them.” She looked at Mink and Dirk. “Now, that would have been soooooo funny. Ah well, the pink lampshade will have to do.”

Lucas wagged a finger at her. “Payback is a bitch, sis,” he threatened softly. He put his hand on the back of Kit’s chair and noted her stiffening ever so slightly, betraying her awareness of him. “But not tonight. I’m in a good mood and not going to let you spoil it.”

He had enjoyed himself these few days. Downtime with family was rare and he savored every moment. His job as a SEAL was a demanding and dangerous one. Each operation abroad could be the last one, so he tried to see his folks every chance he got.

This time, he’d managed a lunch with his parents before heading to Charleston to help Lulu. Plus, he’d met Kit, someone he would like to see again, and hopefully, vice-versa. Family, friends, and meeting Kit. All in all, a damn good visit home.

“What did you have for dinner?” Kit asked. “Lulu took us to a seafood place.”

Lucas shrugged. “Meat and potatoes. Then we wandered around King St. and hung out at a couple of dive bars. Drank some at the Upper Deck. Ended up here because we can talk and have snacks.”

“Lulu said you guys would be in this bar.”

Lucas smiled. “You looking for me?”

She had a really sweet smile, with a big dimple on one side. “Yes. But only because you’re such a cupcake.”

He leaned over and put his mouth against her ear. “Want another bite?”

“More than one, please,” she said.

Lucas’ smile widened. She was his kind of woman.

*

Kit couldn’t believe it. Usually, it didn’t take long for the investigative reporter in her to figure the whys and wherefores she liked or disliked anyone, especially a man. It was in her nature to listen and probe, to analyze and make connections with their stories. But somehow, in the last three days, Lucas Branson had disconnected that little bit of wiring in her head.

She’d done completely un-Kit-like things. Her brother had warned her about spec ops. operatives on leave, that they were coming down from a high and were sometimes looking for a good time before returning to the field. Heck, her brother exemplified that behavior constantly with his many female acquaintances. Being the snoop she was, she’d once stolen his little black book (she’d rolled her eyes at the whole cliché of it all—a little black book, seriously?) and thumbed through all the female names and phone numbers. She’d even considered playing a mean joke and calling all of them to meet “him” at the same place but had thought better of it. She had, however, led him to believe she did.

She still grinned at the memory of the horrified expression stuck on his face. Oh, brotherly rage was always a fine sight.

Being brought up in a household of protective males had its setbacks too, of course. Her dates were often intimidated to the point of never staying around too long. Her father alone had scared away most of them, but then her brothers all grew up and a couple of them had followed her dad into the army and geez, dating life, bye-bye. She loved her family to pieces and understood they had her best interest at heart, but life with overbearing men could drive one crazy after a while.

That was why she really enjoyed her friendship with Lulu, who had the same type of family. However, her pal was also an Amazon Queen who took charge of her life. Her father and brother, from what Kit could see, gave her room.

Kit studied Lucas, who was, at that moment, bantering with his sister. On one hand, he was exactly like a big brother to Lulu; on the other hand, not once had he intruded on his sister’s privacy by asking her about Mink. She thought of the other night when Mink had been in the room alone with Lulu. In his underwear. Her own brother would’ve torn down that door. Yet, Lucas had just waited outside. Sure, there was brotherly protectiveness there but there was also trust that his friend wouldn’t go too far.

She had been intrigued. Was still intrigued.

“I’d rather not hang out here all night,” Lucas said, turning to her. “What do you want to do?”

She glanced over at Lulu, who shrugged. “I’m game for anything. What do you have in mind?”

“Some alone time.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “We can all meet back here later. Mink and Dirk, you’re not to let Lulu out of your sight.”

“What?” Lulu protested. “You’re leaving me with them and kidnapping my friend?”

“Only for a little while. Here, go see a movie. The guys are funny at the movies.”

“You suck!” Lulu said while snatching the money Lucas threw on the table. “Bribery doesn’t work with little sister anymore!”

Kit laughed because Lulu loved going to the movies. This was the classic big brother bribe.

“And babysitters should be paid too!” Mink chimed in. “I mean, the girl needs two babysitters. Right, Dirk?”

The two SEALs high-fived each other.

“You okay with this?” Kit asked Lulu.

Her friend smiled and waved her away. “I know how to get into trouble on my own,” she said, then winked. “Besides, who wants her brother along when she has two SEALs to play with?”

Kit grinned. True.

“Okay, we meet back here later. Text us when the movie is over,” Lucas ordered. “And don’t get my men in trouble, Lulu. We’re due back on duty first thing and I can’t break them out of jail.”

Lulu snorted and gave Kit another wave before turning to Mink and Dirk. “Boys,” she said in silky tones, “I’m in the mood for a romantic comedy.”

Lucas shook his head and gestured to Kit to exit the noisy scene, made more so by the howls of protests from the two SEALs at the table. She grabbed her jacket and purse and walked with him out of the bar.

The night air was cool and felt good after being in a crowded place, so she didn’t put on her jacket. They climbed down the steps and headed away from the lights and noise. She had no idea where he was taking her but figured it would be somewhere quiet and a little more private. She hoped so, anyway.

It was the last night she was going to see this man. Not forever, perhaps, but other than the fact that they shared a mutual attraction, she had no idea what was ahead. Did he want to see her again? Why was she even thinking about this when she should be concentrating on her new career plans? For all she knew, she was just a passing fancy, someone to flirt with while he was in town. Too many questions. Why was she always asking so many questions when she should be enjoying this moment, this man?

“Looking forward to getting back to work?” she asked, to break the silence.

“Why do you say that? Trying to get rid of me already?”

His tone was light but she couldn’t be sure in the semi-darkness.

“Well, moving furniture around can’t be as exciting as toting machine guns and taking down enemies,” she said.

“Sometimes boring stuff to normal people can be interesting and exciting to those of us who live a pretty rigid lifestyle,” he told her. “We get to appreciate little things as meaningful and important.”

He squeezed her hand. It felt natural, walking with him like this, with the cool breeze from the river blowing against her face, and the lights from the bridge twinkling not far away.

“So, what meaningful thing did you get from moving furniture?” She was curious how he viewed things in general. In her experience, from watching her family and interviewing returning military personnel, they were, more often than not, unable to function normally for a while.

“I met you.”

His swift reply brought a smile to her lips. Military men also flirted a lot.

“Okay, besides that.”

There was a short pause. “I’m not good at explaining things,” he finally said, adding, with some ruefulness, “at least, without using a lot of curse words. I try not to do that back home so much but when I talk too long, they slip out sometimes.”

“My brother is…”

“…a fucking Airborne Ranger,” he finished for her and laughed quietly. “You keep saying that like a shield.”

Surprise stopped her in mid-stride and she stumbled, since he’d kept on walking. His arms came around her, pulling her close. His scent—a mixture of maleness, leather and cologne—played with her senses.

“A shield?” She repeated. “That’s ridiculous. I was just trying to explain I’m used to hearing bad language around me. Believe me, my brothers don’t censor much.”

“Mmmhmm.”

He didn’t seem interested in whatever she was saying at the moment and she shivered a little when his hands slid up her hips and under her sweater. His warm hands caressed her lower back as he pulled her close.

“Lucas,” she began. “There are people around us.”

Not that many, but still. She was kind of afraid if he started kissing her, she was going to embarrass herself by climbing all over him. The revelation of how strong her attraction for him was both startled and unnerved her.

“Yeah, and then someone you know would probably take a picture of us, plaster it all over some social media and then your Ranger brother will show up on my ship demanding to defend his little sister’s honor,” he mocked. “Quaking in my boots here.”

She giggled at the thought. “That was a mighty long sentence and not one cuss word,” she mocked back.

His hands traveled higher, molding her body against his. “They’re all in my head right now,” he said huskily. “Pages and pages filled with words like fuck and tongue and…my something something inside your something something. Lady, you don’t know how hard I am right now.”

His self-censorship made her burst out in laughter. Recklessly, she reached up and grabbed him by the collar with both hands, pulling his head lower.

“Show me,” she invited. “Let’s get a room and show me those pages and pages.”

“Who’s being quick now?” he teased.

“You did ask for a memorable night,” she told him.

He bent his head lower. Just as she’d known, the moment his lips touched hers, it felt as if she was one of those fireworks being set off. She responded fiercely, unthinkingly. His tongue slid against her, invading like silky honey. She felt the sexual heat snaking its way down her whole being. She hardly knew this man, but she knew she desired him with a burning intensity. She snuggled against him, wanting more.

“Get a room!” A passing stranger yelled out in an amused voice.

Kit laid her forehead against his chest when he released her lips. Her ears were buzzing, her lips felt swollen, and her heart was doing gymnastic tricks. She knew it. She knew she would forget where she was once that gorgeous mouth met hers. Anticipation had only fueled her passion.

“Yeah, I think we will,” Lucas agreed in a low, sexy voice.

Chapter Four

‡

When it came to romancing a woman, Lucas preferred nice and slow, mostly because he usually liked to get to know the person first. His job was all about precision, planning and practice. War might be nasty business but a SEAL team incision was all about stealthy attacks.

He’d applied this philosophy in his pursuit of female company—methodical and somewhat predictable because he was, after all, a SEAL. It’d never cross his mind that he wouldn’t succeed.

That wasn’t happening with Kit.

From the moment he’d set eyes on her, there was this urgency to go after her. Male instinct told him to claim and to claim quickly. He didn’t question why. From the get-go, he just knew this wasn’t going to be nice and slow.

He prided himself as a pretty uncomplicated male. Don’t just talk. Do. Don’t just explain. Show. Don’t beat around the bush. Make it clear, mow it down.

Yeah, he didn’t have much use for words.

He could sum up his current thoughts in a couple of caveman sentences. Want Kit. Take Kit. Claim Kit.

A nice hotel room would just have to do instead of a cave.

Actually, this woman was leading the charge. She took the keys from the desk clerk. She led him to the room. She turned the key and tugged at his hand to come in after her.

Okay, he kicked the door shut. But that was it. He quite enjoyed letting a woman order him around. Their jackets were already on the floor.

“Take off your shirt,” she said.

He obediently did so, pulling it over his head. Her smile made him want to rip her sweater off her but he stayed still as she ran bold hands through his chest hair.

“Lower, please,” Lucas requested.

“I like your chest hair. I like to play with it.”

“They don’t give me the same pleasure as other parts of me,” he explained. He placed his hand over hers and slid it down over the steely bulge in his pants. His cock expanded some more, eager for more pleasure. “See? This part of me has hair too. And there is something there for you to play with.”

Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “And what could that be?”

“Something big. Hard. And I heard, quite enjoyable.”

“Take off your pants, then.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said, and did what came from years of training—unzip, tug, kick pants away. All SEAL, all commando. And his team’s motto: standing and ready for action.

She looked down for a long moment, then her gaze came back up to meet his. Her eyes were very wide. She licked her moist lips.

“Is that why they call you Cucumber?”

Lucas smiled slowly. SEALs’ nicknames were given to them by their own platoon, usually after a physical attribute or an embarrassing moment. His came from a combo of both.

“Kinda. Do you really want me to tell you a bedtime story now? I’d rather have you undress so I can tuck you into bed.”

She lifted her arms. “Go for it, sailor.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Her top came off in one swift pull and he threw it over his shoulder. She had on some frilly black bra. She unbuttoned her pants and they fell to the floor, then she turned and ran towards the bed.

He watched her luscious ass for a long moment. Praise the Lord for inventing thongs. And after his brain cells settled back down, he leapt after her.

She bounced onto the bed. He dropped on his knees behind her, and tucking an arm around her waist, he stopped her from turning over. That sexy ass was too beautiful a sight.

“Don’t move just yet,” he said, fitting his hands on the round cheeks.

So smooth. He bent down and took a nibble. His hand, tucked under her, slipped inside the flimsy thong. She gasped as he cupped her.

He slowly slid the elastic aside, intimately brushing against her, priming her. He was a big guy. It was important to get a woman really ready for him. She was wet already. He teased her some more while he took his time nibbling the back of her thighs and the gorgeous silky-smooth ass until he had her squirming.

“Cupcake, I’m going to taste you first,” he murmured, slowly turning her around.

He pulled the thong aside with one finger. Beautiful. The kind of rosy pink he liked. Her wetness beckoned, whetting his appetite, and he slid another finger down slowly, exploring her slickness. She made a strangled sound and fell back on the bed. Yeah, like that. Just the way he wanted, with all the juicy parts within easy reach. He put both hands on her thighs and spread her legs a little more, then leaned in, placing his mouth on the exposed pink flesh.

He heard some muffled sounds from her as her lower body jerked up. His firm hold on her thighs kept her from escaping his lips. So lusciously wet. So deliciously sweet. Her soft moans and thrusts to his face sent electric jolts right down to his rock-hard cock, impatiently waiting its turn. A woman was meant to moan like that for a man.

He tongued her slit and pushed upward, looking for that nub. Yeah, there it was, the little pearl waiting for his attention. He kissed it and rolled his tongue around, adjusting the pressure on her clit as he checked her reaction.

“Lucas!” She squirmed at one point.

Jackpot. He wanted her squirming and moaning his name.

“What?” He whispered, in between licks.

“Lu…cas! I’m…going to come.”

He laughed quietly. “Ladies first, baby.”

He went in for the kill, sliding one finger inside her as he continued stroking her with his tongue, this time not bothering to answer her when she choked out his name again.

Her rapid breathing became little throaty cries. He gently sucked the hood hiding that little pearl between her legs. Her hands gripped his hair as she came hard. Then she went limp. Her damp release excited him unbearably and he gave her one last flick with his tongue before getting off his knees slowly and going to get his pants.

She lay there panting, looking at him as he sheathed on a condom over his very hard, about to burst, erection. He strode back to her.

“My turn, babe,” he said.

*

Kit languorously stretched, and using her legs, slid higher on the bed, opening her arms to invite the tall, impressive-looking man to come to her. Oh God, but he was a big, muscular hunk. Everything in her world had turned into small, unimportant stuff since they’d met.

All the advice her brothers had given her.

All her careful planning about taking her time with relationships after the last fiasco.

All the usual “don’t give the guy what he wants or he won’t come back” girlie chitchat.

Whoosh. Out the window. She wanted Lucas Branson in a way she’d never felt before. It started as a hot flush of awareness, that initial attraction, which then bloomed into a cloud of heat and desire that seemed to weigh down on all the calm, oh-so-sensible advice in her brain. All Lucas had to do was put his arms around her, enveloping her with his irresistible male scent, and that cloud had exploded and she’d let all her wants and needs rain down on her.

Free. Uncaring. Total abandonment.

She wanted this man and she would have him.

His erection stood proud and straight as he put on protection. Something squeezed tightly in her loins. She wanted a taste of that later, but right now….

She unsnapped her bra, freeing her breasts from the cups. His dark eyes looked on, mesmerized by her movements. Then she wiggled her index finger, beckoning him.

He climbed over her, his nakedness emanating heat, his cock looking even bigger this close. He groaned when she reached down and circled her hands around his erection.

“Don’t squeeze too hard, Cupcake,” he said, as he leaned forward, caging each side of her with his big, muscular arms. “You don’t want me to come before I’m inside you.”

She lifted her legs, angling her body beneath him. “Hurry, hurry, hurry,” she breathed.

His thrust was slow and steady. She wriggled, gasping as the pressure of his entry expanded her vagina. He slid out and thrust again, this time going in deeper. He repeated. Deeper. Oh, God, deeper even. Her neck snapped back when he gave another thrust, his thighs hitting her ass as he pushed in all the way.

“You okay?” His voice came out in a growl.

She chuckled. “Is that all you got, big boy?”

He just shook his head and leaned forward more, shifting his weight to his elbows, rolling her lower body higher until she had to wrap her legs around his waist. He pushed so deep inside her, she felt faint from the intense pressure.

“More?” He whispered.

She was never one to back away from a challenge. “I thought SEALs could go in much, much deeper,” she whispered back, “when they plan to detonate something.”

He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming in the half-light. “Saucy woman. So many ways to detonate, so little time. Cupcake, prepare to explode,” he told her as he started to move.

Kit hung on to the broad shoulders, feeling the tensing of muscles as he demonstrated how deep he could go and for how long. She’d never thought herself very sensitive down there but now she felt everything. Each stroke massaged sensitive nerves she never knew existed, making her clench her internal muscles in delight. The sensation of being taken excited her tremendously and his little bites of her neck, right under the ear, weakened her so, building the heat between her legs.

Every time he pushed inside her, his thick length rubbed against her clitoris and some other secret part inside. Her whole body sang with pleasure at each slide and the tension from the need to release grew like a hot-air balloon being filled. Any moment now, she would take flight. She could hear herself crying out his name again until her words were just incomprehensible syllables.

The bed creaked under them as he continued the sure and steady pace. She wanted him to hurry but he seemed intent on just prolonging the building ecstasy. Her eyes closed as the tension built and built from the pull and push of his thrusts.

Now.

Now!

Her whole body tightened and arched up. Then her whole being let go and it felt like a free fall through space. His pace became faster as he matched her frantic urging. She heard his deep groans and his body, slippery with perspiration, enveloped her as he climaxed with her.

Seconds went by. She couldn’t move at all. Not that she could, with him sprawled on top of her, his face buried in her neck. What a lovely, lovely feeling, to come together like that.

She had been wrong all this time, thinking sex was just Tab A fitting Tab B, with some fleeting feeling from the connection. Absolutely, wonderfully wrong.

Kit smiled contentedly. There was so much feeling. So much heat. All along, she just needed someone she really desired, someone with a marvelously big cock. The thought of him leaving made her sigh. She wished she could keep him to herself.

His hand was between her legs again, lazily stroking her. She jerked up because she was still sensitive.

“Shhhh.” He crooned in her ear. “Don’t fight it. I can take you higher, baby. This time, you’re going to scream for me.”

It was an unbearable teasing as he made sure she stayed relaxed. Every time she tensed up, his stroking slowed down to a gentle glide. Everything became focused on where he was touching, how slowly he stoked her fire, each slide of his finger like an expert cellist making his instrument sing. And did she ever. She couldn’t stop the throaty cries escaping her lips as her lower body burned with desire. Every upward sensation brought a mounting ecstasy and every descent made her shiver with anticipation. And when he finally pushed two fingers inside her, she screamed, her orgasm finally bursting into full flames. His mouth covered hers as his fingers continued their magic.

Much, much later, wrapped in Lucas arms, she heard her cell phone’s familiar text whistle. She tried to get up and the arms tightened.

“Where are you going?” His sleepy, satiated voice tickled her ear.

“Read my text message. It’s probably Kit and the boys, wondering where we are.”

He heaved a sigh, then turned over. “Guess I better check mine too, then. What do you want to do? Get back with them or stay in bed and party on our own? I opt for more Cupcake.”

Hmm. She wanted more Cucumber. “You’ll be too tired to get back to work tomorrow,” she teased.

“I’ve been up all night before, babe.”

His husky laugh made her shiver with its sexy promise.

She got off the bed and headed for their pile of clothes. She searched his pocket and then came back to bed, handing him his phone.

“I’ll tell my guys DND,” Lucas told her.

“DND?”

“Do not disturb.”

“They’ll know what we’re doing for sure, then,” she said, as she looked at her phone. “Yup, it’s Lulu, telling me the movie is over and…”

She laughed, shook her head and texted back.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

She put the phone on the night table and flung herself on top of that hot body. “Everything’s fine. Let’s see how long you can stay up all night.”

She reached for him. He was hard already. She slid lower, giving him an idea what was coming.

“My guys won’t tell Lulu what DND is. What did you text to her?”

“You sound a bit…strained. Are you sure you can stay up all night? Maybe you want to rest up?”

There was a short silence as she took the head of his cock in her mouth and rolled her tongue across it several times.

“Test me,” he finally said. “Continue what you’re doing.”

She grinned. She thought she could distract him from asking too much about his sister. Lulu was busy. Her text had made her laugh because it read, “DND, Kit. Distract my brother for me!”

DND. She wondered whether Lulu got that term from being around SEALs too long. She had a fair idea with whom she was busy right now.

She slowly took the full erection deep in her mouth, carefully coming down as far as she could. He was so big, she doubted if she could take it all in, but she did her best, grasping the thick shaft and swallowing deeply. A very male groan followed that. If she could have smiled, she would. Because she wanted to give the man as much pleasure as he’d given her earlier, she tried something she’d never done before. Massaging his balls, she gave a very light tug and at the same time, relaxing her throat, she took him deeply into her mouth. She was immediately rewarded.

“Fuck. Baby. I…Hot…God…Baby!”

She let go, inhaled, then repeated what she just did.

“Uh. Gooooood, man-fuck-take-umm-unngh-more-FFFUCK!”

Kit wanted to laugh. Reducing the always-in-control Lucas Branson into incoherent mumbling was fun. Oh, she didn’t mind the task of distracting him at all.

PART TWO

Chapter Five

‡

Four weeks later.

Pakistan-Afghan mountainous border

Seven seconds. That was how long a SEAL usually had to distinguish between the bad guys and the good ones in a small space and do the appropriate damage.

Lucas had done numerous recon raids, but he noted this was the first time he’d assaulted an enemy first by the smell of chicken and god-knows-what shit. He, Dirk and Mink had crawled into the target’s courtyard through a hole in the animals’ barn and had found themselves underneath some kind of long chicken cage. The space was so low, they had to remove their helmets to stop from clacking the bottom of the coop. They startled a few birds as they did a long belly crawl among sleeping chickens, picking up all the slimy bird poop on their clothes, face, hair…everywhere. And startled birds pooped some more. Warm stinking stuff slid down his unprotected neck as he maneuvered his big body through the tight space, not uttering a sound as something that smelled really bad splattered on his nose.

He supposed it could have been worse. Could have had to swim through a pig’s trough. They made their way silently towards the front. It wasn’t very dark; the light from outside shone through the cracks in the building.

The darkness in the barn was punctured as they kicked down the door leading to the courtyard where their targets were having some kind of barbeque party. The first gasps at their appearance weren’t exactly blood-curdling screams of pain or panic. Nope. The four people near the entrance to the barn gagged at the smell of excrement emanating from the three intruders.

Yeah, a SEAL had all kinds of deadly weapons at his disposal at any given moment. He liked the idea of killing a few enemies by just smelling them to death.

Seven seconds. In that flash, his brain quickly registered the screaming women and a couple of kids running back towards the main house, away from the area around the barn. He knew, from hours and hours of prep as well as close quarters target identification training, in the mountains, the womenfolk usually sat away from the men. So he quickly adjusted, pointing his weapon the other direction.

Their insider had been right after all. The team had scratched their heads over his instructions to attack near the animals. Wouldn’t the wedding be inside? But like Dirk had suggested, maybe it was a barbecue party. This made their attack easier. Their Intel had also noted that the other male family members who lived there would be attending the ceremony, thus all the other quarters nearby would be empty. The gathering was the perfect time to surround the hostiles in one spot, giving the SEALs the advantage of taking them down and bringing in their target.

“Team Bravo reporting, infiltration completed. Males to your right,” he spoke into his mic, informing his commander the needed information for direct insertion. “Team Charlie, males at seven o’clock but females are at five o’clock.”

“Team Alpha, go!” Hawk, his leader, gave the command over the mic. “Team Charlie, go!”

Lucas, Dirk and Mink’s first role was to distract the outside guards and enough inside targets so the other two teams could climb up the wall surrounding the courtyard. Hawk, Zone and Turner were Team Alpha; Jazz and Joker were Team Charlie.

Lucas popped off the first two men who had picked up their-nearby weapons. He knew Mink and Dirk were taking care of his six so he walked forward, looking for the target, Yakob, whom they’d given the codename “The Cob” for communications.

Their insider Intel had been very clear. Their target would be in ceremonial clothing, bright with lots of gold. He should be easy to find.

“The Cob sighted, over,” Lucas reported.

Team Alpha was already on top of the wall ahead. Lucas could see Hawk rappelling down while Zone was taking out the few guards nearby.

“I see him, over,” Hawk said in his ear piece.

“I’ll cover you.”

The rat-tat-tat of gun fire multiplied exponentially in the next seconds. In an extraction raid, the element of surprise was the most important advantage. Go in, hit your targets, let the chosen teammate do his job as extractor, get out. There should be no pauses at all to allow the other side to regroup.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucas caught sight of something bright where Team Alpha was situated. It should be dark over there. He swung his weapon around, ready to come to his teammate’s defense.

And paused.

It was a—

“Don’t shoot. Female climbing our rope.” It was Zone, still positioned on the wall.

A bullet zinged past, causing Lucas to jerk away reactively, and a knife embedded itself on the weapon strap around his waist. It stung.

Like hell if he was going get himself shot dead with bird crap all over him.

No time to think. Back to the business at hand. Zone could handle one lone female.

Lucas charged forward, using the ceremonial tables and brightly wrapped poles as protection, as he took out the enemy with surgical efficiency. He rolled under a table to get to the other side, closer to the main participants of the ceremonial party. His instructions had been clear—if Team Alpha failed in its attempt to nab The Cob from behind the group, his team had the responsibility to get to the target from the front side. A more difficult goal at the moment because of the obstacles strewn between them and the target.

“Team Charlie reporting. Exit secured and open, over,” Jazz’s voice announced over the mic.

“Team Alpha reporting. We got the Cob. Cover us, over,” Hawk said. “Cumber?”

“Ready!” Lucas confirmed.

Lucas pulled down the special gas mask that had been secured under his thin hood to protect it from being pulled off by the wires sticking out from under the chicken cages. Thank the Lord for some quick thinking there or they’d have been smeared with bird crap too.

A flashbang was discharged. It exploded in the central courtyard, the noise and sudden light creating panic among the partygoers. Lucas rolled two small CS canisters into the targeted area.

There was a quick barrage of gunfire and then an odd silence as all the male hostiles were momentarily incapacitated. Everyone in the vicinity without a gas mask was down. And then the coughing and choking began.

They had used a minimal dose of CS gas, just enough to create panic and confusion so they could make a quick escape. There were too many women and children around to take down all the men, even though the women of this culture were traditionally separated. Also, not all the men belonged to the terrorist cell the SEALs were after, only those around the Cob.

“Alpha, Team Bravo got your back, over,” Lucas said. “Mink, flank left. Dirk, to the right. Confirm positions, over.”

“Affirmative,” their voices said in unison.

The familiar figures of Hawk and Turner jogged past them, each dragging a prisoner. Lucas’ team followed, guarding the rear.

Jazz and Turner beckoned from the open exit and they disappeared through it with the prisoners. Lucas and Dirk fired shots to keep any attackers from behind at bay. Mink threw a fire pellet into a bale of hay near the entrance, setting it on fire—distraction for those who might run after them. Zone appeared out of nowhere, having left his position on top of the wall at some point. He was alone. No time to question him about that strange female who climbed the rope.

The team had mapped out the escape route from the compound after the first recon to check out the terrain. The path, well worn by horses and carts, veered off precariously and wasn’t suitable for a quick run with two reluctant bodies. They had instead chosen the river as transport and had made the necessary arrangements.

Lucas followed his SEAL squad, constantly turning around to eye the rear. The dark was their friend as the enemy would need lights to search for them. Easy to detect. They were making more noise than usual, though, what with dragging along two reluctant men. Neither was calling for help. Hmm. Hawk must have taken the time to gag them.

Lucas grinned in the dark. He would have to ask his commander whether he had given the bride a kiss since he appeared to have plenty of time to gag the asshole.

Jazz whistled softly and not far away, a whistle replied back. An engine rumbled to life. The shadow of the Special Operations Craft-Riverine boat they had ordered appeared out of the darkness, illuminated by only one pinpoint of light.

Lucas’ team hurriedly boarded. It wouldn’t be long before any nearby Yakob men and allies who might be rushing toward the courtyard heard the SOC-R and start signaling their river guards. Recon extraction over. The fun had begun.

Hawk and a few others shoved the two prisoners into the boat and the shadow crew on board pulled them up. They were members of Special Boat Team 22, all elite Special Warfare Combatant-craft Crewmen. Lucas and his team had worked with them before and relied on their water-navigating skills many a time while on hydrographic recons.

One of them patted Lucas on the back—three taps—signaling his identity. Lucas returned the greeting with a familiar nudge of his elbow as he positioned himself and his weapon. No words needed. River Devil was one of his close friends from the Naval Academy. Good to have him by his side in combat.

They zoomed off into the murky darkness. The noise they were making would only give them enough time to get far out enough—glints of lights to the left, moving shadows and yeah, Lucas fancied he could hear a lot of shouting going on—before the situation became noisy.

“Showtime,” Mink shouted into his ear.

Lucas crouched low.

The SOC-R was equipped with five guns that could go 360 degrees. Good luck, terrorist dudes. In the face of enemy attack, the SWCC response, in military speak, was usually “violence of action.” No finesse at all, Lucas mused, but hey, it got the job done, so no complaints from him.

“Contact!” A voice he recognized as Devil’s shouted. That was standard command for ‘Yoohoo, bastards, here we come!’

A deafening torrent of gunfire pounded all around them. Water rose up like a moving magic curtain from the spray of bullets. There was some return fire but Lucas doubted that would last too long.

In front, Zone and Turner pushed the two prisoners down as shell casings from the tremendous show of firepower started to fall all around them. The fog of smoke from the weapons burned the back of Lucas’ throat. He helped to feed the ammo, his gaze following the plumes of smoke on the bank, signifying the demolished targets. The river wasn’t very wide so the best defense was to keep shooting. One never knew whether there were hostiles crawling along the banks. With the help of night-vision goggles and high-tech equipment, the lookout man gave directions and warnings of sighted targets.

Lucas shoved away a pile of spent slugs and bullet casings that had landed at his feet, making room. The boat began to speed up, taking off down river. The thumping of gunfire became less and less sporadic. Wedding party over, folks.

The rest of the trip went without incident. Everyone was still on high alert, with no small talk other than greeting and acknowledgement. Lucas could hear his commander, Hawk, speaking quietly with the boat crew commander, then watched curiously as they walked back and pulled the Cob—he recognized him by his shiny clothing—into a sitting position before placing a hood over his head. As soon as he was secured that way, the other prisoner sat up without help and Hawk leaned over and cut his ropes. The man rubbed his wrists, shaking away the stiffness, but neither man exchanged any words.

What the hell?

“Separate the prisoners when we arrive and ship them to the assigned detainment cells,” Hawk said. “No communicating with anyone where each prisoner is to be held.”

“Yes, sir!”

Lucas watched the freed prisoner hand his commander a note. Clearly, the order just given was bullshit being fed to the Cob or he’d eat his shoe. Lucas made a face. Okay, not his currently shit-infested shoe, but one that was sitting on a shelf back home. Home made him think of Kit-Ling. He immediately shut that door mentally. Think of that wild woman and he’d get his pants tight from a hard-on. He had done that so many times since Charleston, he was beginning to wonder what was wrong with him. One couldn’t afford to lose focus out here in the field or chance being killed.

The rest of the trip back to base was uneventful. The well-guarded US-controlled canal was a welcome sight and Lucas found his tenseness dissipating. He cricked his neck and relaxed his grip on his weapon. If he were lucky, he could actually get a shower tonight. He sniffed himself. Right now he’d settle for a quick dip in the canal.

They gathered as a group, both his team and the special ops boat crew. An interpreter met with Hawk and after an exchange of instructions, the Cob was marched off, with guards holding him on both sides. Interestingly enough, the other prisoner just stood there with his guards. He was definitely local but much taller, more Lucas’ size, actually. And he seemed very comfortable standing there, quietly taking in the scene with an impassive face. Lucas doubted any of his team mates were deceived by the easy stance. This man knew how to fight.

Someone called out his name. He turned and high-fived his buds. Mink and Dirk did a chest bump. His friend, River Devil, looking appropriately devilish with his face streaked in green and black and tufts of his red hair falling out of his head gear, gave him a fist bump.

“I’d hug you, man, but not with that fucking garbage truck stench,” he said, grinning. “What did you do, frogman, swim in their sewage?”

The others laughed as they studied the three men from Team Bravo.

“Stooges, you look and smell like shit,” Jazz remarked, sniffing the air. The tall and lean Cajun grinned wickedly. “Can’t wait to hear your report.”

“You have a knife sticking out of you, Cumber,” Hawk pointed out conversationally. “Must not be hurting too much.”

Lucas looked down. Sure enough, that darn blade was still embedded in his belt and yeah, part of it was still inside him.

“Not hurting at all, sir,” he told his commander. “Blade’s barely in.”

“His big balls deflected most of it,” Mink explained and they all laughed again.

Hawk turned to the “prisoner” who still stood there in silence. “He’s out of hearing. Thank you for all your Intel. Did you get what you wanted?”

Ah. He was their inside guy.

The man nodded. “I got the name of the buyer from Yakob. I’ll need to use a satellite feed to pass it on to Number Nine.”

Lucas’ ears pricked up. Number Nine. Wasn’t that the COS Commando they’d met in Asia, the one with the strange eyes? So this dude was part of that outfit. These COS commandos and his team had crossed each other’s paths a lot lately. Not surprising, since they were fighting the same people, only with different goals.

“You can use my private one,” Hawk offered.

“Thank you.”

“Everyone meet up in thirty minutes at Debriefing. Cumber, if you need to sew that up first, let me know, but definitely wipe off some of that shit before entering the war room.” Hawk’s serious expression broke into a smile. “All three from Team Bravo. Miss Hutchens would appreciate it.”

Amber Hutchens was Hawk’s fiancé and also an Intel asset, supplying information on illegal weapons dealings and their international routes. Not too long ago, she’d played a major role in helping the SEALs locate some caches of weapons hidden in Croatia. That’s where she and Hawk had met and Lucas had known, from the look in his commander’s eyes whenever Amber Hutchens was around, that his bachelor days were numbered.

“Aye, sir!”

“I’ll see you all in thirty, then. Follow me, Shahrukh, Jazz.”

The insider, Jazz and Hawk walked off.

“Someone’s wedding party sure ended with a bang,” River Devil remarked. “You guys made quite a noise. We were thinking the Cob’s men might be closer to the river to get you guys when you ran so we set some traps, just in case, bro.”

“Aw, you river cowboys were worried about us. You do care!” Mink joked.

“Nah. We didn’t feel like working too hard tonight rescuing your frog asses,” someone quipped back.

“It’s good to have everything work out as planned,” Lucas agreed, “except for the damn chicken cages.”

“Phoowee. Get the fuck out of here and take care of that wound too, will you? Fucking gagging me to death, you three,” Turner said.

Zone shook his head, poking Mink with a stick and holding up some smelly piece of crap that had been dangling over his shoulder. “Trust the stooges to get themselves in shit.”

Lucas shrugged. He didn’t mind being made fun of—they got the job done. That was all that mattered.

“See you in a few. Peace out.” He, Mink and Dirk were heading to the clean-up area when he remembered. “Hey, I forgot to ask Zone about that girl climbing up the wall. What was that all about?”

Dirk shrugged. “Beats me. I saw Zone helping her up.”

“She didn’t come with us, though,” Mink said. “Nice strong legs.”

“You had time to look at her legs?” Lucas asked.

Mink grinned. “Hey, I looked over there and there they were.”

“You’d better not boast about that too loudly, bro. The native men will kill you for insulting their females”

“Yeah, watch your mouth,” Lucas said.

“I know, Cumber, I know. We’ll talk about other things, yes?”

They bantered on as they undid all the weaponry and gear strapped to their bodies. Lucas yanked the knife out of the strap around his waist, studying the short blade for a moment before throwing it in the pile. They stripped off soiled clothes in record time, kicking them under the shower, letting the water wash away as much of the animal crap as possible.

“Shit, man, you need stitches for that,” Dirk said, pointing down.

Lucas checked. The knife had gone through the strap sideways, embedded in the skin near his waist between his belly button and hip, deep enough to cause a little damage.

“Meh. Just give me a Band-Aid.”

“Dude, you’re bleeding. Take care of it.”

“Don’t want to miss the meeting. I’ll let you sew me up later.” Mink was the medic on their team. “Then you can tell my sis you saved my life and she’ll kiss you again.”

Mink gave him a wink. “You’re a generous brother. I’ll tell Kit you nearly died and she’ll kiss you better too.”

“Damn, I feel all lonesome without someone to kiss me,” Dirk said, throwing a bar of soap at Mink. “Here, wash my back and make me feel better.”

*

“How are you doing?”

Kit looked up from writing an email on her tablet in a moving vehicle. They would soon be out in the countryside and wireless connection would be spotty. She wanted to reply to Lucas’ email—if you could call a three-word sentence mail—before she took a nap. Normally, she would look out of the window and take in the view but it was pitch black outside and the others had advised her to sleep because tomorrow would be a busy day.

Sean Cortez sat across from her, long legs stretched out. The light from his tablet illuminated his face, making his watchful dark eyes gleam. Kit wished she had half his energy—the man was seemingly indefatigable, always up and about interviewing people, making plans for clandestine meetings and taping reports for the news service for which they worked. She was determined to copy his non-stop pace, even though almost everyone on the team had assured her she wasn’t the only one having a tough time keeping up with Sean and that he didn’t expect them to follow his schedule.

Other than talking to the man on the other side of the camera when she was in the States, she’d never met the celebrated road journalist in person before. Face-to-face, he was just as she’d imagined—bigger than life, intense about his work, and a demanding teammate. She’d applied to be on his team this time as part of her expanded work load precisely because of his focus and passion about his projects. Working on his team would teach her a lot more about international field work as a journalist.

So far, he’d kept her busy reading up on the Afghan-Pakistan border and its history and people. When they had a few spare moments, he’d quizzed her knowledge, always pointing out her wrong assumptions about people and culture. So much so that now, every time he asked her anything, she would give his question detailed consideration before replying.

“As in how am I at this moment?” she asked. “Or, how am I doing at my new job? Or, how am I doing in a general life sort of way?”

He laughed quietly. “You have a different answer for all three conditions?”

“Of course. Unless you just want the standard ‘I’m fine, thank you’ reply but then why ask in the middle of nowhere, right?”

“Right. So, should I reply for you myself or are you going to answer me?”

Kit looked down at her tablet. Some men were so prickly. No sense of humor at all. Not like Lucas Branson, who made her laugh so much for three days.

I miss Cupcake.

That line made her want to giggle again. What a ridiculous nickname. Besides, that was the name she used on him; somehow, it’d ended up being hers. Of course, how did one top Cucumber as a nickname? Well, she too could be short and sweet.

She typed: “I miss Cucumber” and hit send, then looked up at the man still studying and patiently waiting for her to say something.

“At this moment,” she said, “I’m just chilling. As for my new job, I think I’m doing quite well, getting the hang of working in a culture where women are second-class citizens. As for my general well-being, I don’t think it’s of any interest to you. Satisfied?”

“Of course your general well-being is of interest to me,” Sean said. He looked down, frowned and tapped on his tablet. His attention still on his screen, he murmured, “If it weren’t, I wouldn’t ask. You seemed so at ease with your new responsibilities. I’m very impressed with your prep work and the way you handled talking with the locals.”

Surprised, she stopped checking her Inbox. From just a few weeks with him 24/7, she knew praise coming from Sean Cortez was a rare thing. “Thanks,” she said.

“You told me when we started you wanted to learn about international field work. Are you ready to dip your foot in the water?”

“I thought that’s what I’ve been doing.” Part of her job had been scouting where the women folk gathered and seeing who indicated an interest in talking to the journalists.

“We’ll be out of the Swat Valley district tomorrow. There won’t be much contact with the locals because they’re more traditional in the mountains, especially with foreigners. Do you know why I picked you as part of the team? Besides your excellent resume and ability to communicate as a public info officer, of course.”

Her tablet was buzzing. That was quick. Lucas was sending a private message.

“I’m not as dumb as you think. You picked me because of my looks.” Kit grinned. “That came out wrong.”

Sean smiled back, amusement stamped on his face. “I think you like to tease, Kit.” He shifted in his seat. “But you’re right. You blend in with the locals, especially when you wear their clothes, and I wanted to take advantage of…your looks.”

“Ha. Knew it.” No doubt about it, because of her mixed Asian facial features, she had been able to get the Pashtun women to feel comfortable enough to talk to her through a female interpreter. She glanced down at her tablet again.

I can’t talk tonite. Debriefing. Not that kind.

She quickly typed back.

Aw. I’m not dirty-minded like you. I can’t talk either. No Internet soon. On field work. Will you text me soon?

Doing anything interesting?

They couldn’t talk much about their work, especially him, so everything was always vague.

I’m flirting with my team top guy. What about you? Anything interesting to report?

Someone soaped my back.

Oooh. You win. I hope to do that to your back one day soon.

Keep that thought, Cupcake. Got to go.

TTYL.

Kit signed off, feeling satisfied she got to talk to Lucas. Wherever he was, he had been busy, doing what SEALs do. It’d been almost a week since they last had a chat. She missed their quick back and forth texts. They had even Skyped a couple of times so they could have longer conversations, which tended to become hot and heavy after a while. Their mutual attraction hadn’t dissipated at all. A smile from him, even from a laptop image, would brighten her day. It was scary and exciting to feel this way about someone again.

“That’s not a smile about work, I bet,” Sean said dryly.

Kit looked up, startled. She’d totally forgotten about him.

“Sorry. I was multi-tasking, doing last minute stuff since I’m sure we won’t be able to find a wireless hotspot out in the countryside.”

Sean pointed to his tablet. “Same here. Were you talking to your boyfriend?”

Kit frowned. Boyfriend? Lucas and she were…what were they? Somewhere between friends and lovers. Or maybe more. She would like them to be more.

“Just a friend,” she replied instead. “And also emailing my mom. She’s a bit protective and if I don’t tell her I’d be incommunicado for a few days, she’d be sending a search party.”

Sean chuckled. “It’d be tough to look for you in these mountains. Swat Valley is a beautiful touristy place but the mountains, it’s a different story. Your mom would need a different kind of search party out there.”

Yeah, like my brother. He’s a—and she grinned because Lucas’ voice came to her mind loud and clear—fucking Airborne Ranger. Oh, she was in so much trouble. That man was haunting her thoughts.

“You haven’t met my Mom. She’s very tiny but she always gets things done her way. The men in my family fear her wrath.” She laughed. Her mother was so typically cliché Chinese dragon lady, she suspected it was mostly an act. “She’s very good at wheedling information out of my brothers and me.”

“So you got that from her.”

Kit looked at Sean again in surprise. “Hey, full of compliments tonight. I’ll take it, Mr. Cortez.” She cocked her head. “Now, tell me what information you’re wanting me to try to get.”

Sean leaned forward and beckoned her to do the same so he could lower his voice even more. Curious, she did so.

“The teenager we’re going to meet with tomorrow—Minah—I need you to ask her about her groom, or rather, groom-to-be.”

“The interview would cover that, right?” Kit asked. Because of an opportunity presented by one of Sean’s sources, they’d decided to include swara, the custom of giving away a girl as payment for an offense, in their investigative report on the recent killing of a famous Pashtun singer by traditionalists. “We have the names. What else?”

“The name interests me. I need you to delve deeper into the crime committed by her family against the groom.”

“Okay.”

“Go beyond what she’s going to tell you. I want more information about the groom, his clan, his whereabouts.”

“How would we connect our feature on the murdered singer with his background?” The Pashtun woman, popular among the city and country folks, and her father were gunned down. “I know her death was an assassination ordered by her former husband, who, from my interviews with the women, made me understand he’d felt humiliated and needed to restore his honor.”

That was why they were going to meet with this young girl, who, reportedly, had just been given away to an older man to restore family honor. They were going to weave the themes together as part of the investigation. The plan was to tie both stories to show how marriages were arranged and their consequences to the women involved.

“Latifah’s death might have been officially attributed to her husband. Although there’s no proof, I have reasons to believe the murder had Taliban-connected elements and I want to look at it from another angle.”

Whoa. “That would change the focus of our investigation.”

Sean shrugged. “I’ve changed my mind before. My sources told me this young girl’s husband, or whatever you want to call him, has radical connections. Some kind of middleman for the warlords and that he has many other side-dealings that had to do with all the skirmishes in the war zone.”

“But what about the women’s plight?” That was Kit’s main reason she had wanted to be on this team, for this particular project. The subject matter was different from the usual political topics. “What about Latifah’s story? And all the other women’s stories that I’ve gathered?”

Sean eyed her quizzically for a second and leaned over so close, his breath was hot against her ear. “You can have total control of that part of the report, if you get me the information I want from our girl tomorrow.”

Then he straightened back up and sat back against his seat, eyeing her contemplatively. Kit stared back at him, not at all sure what this all meant.

“Sleep on it,” he continued. He turned his attention back to his tablet and tapped a few times. “We have time.”

From then on, he appeared to be immersed in his work and Kit didn’t feel like asking more questions in loud whispers. The two interpreters were sleeping in the far end of the van, where they had arranged their sleeping bags over the longer seats. The cameraman and photographer were sitting in front with their guide. She could hear the murmurs, indicating they were still awake. Their own quiet conversation was a normal thing for the others because they had to conduct many of their meetings this way. Once they were out of the more touristy areas, being seen together in public too much would only invite trouble since none of them were married to each other, nor did they have any chaperones. All they had were international guides who arranged their meetings and were expected to sit in as “chaperones.” So when necessary, they had mostly used their laptops and cameras as a way to hold their more private get-togethers about details they had gathered, but that still hadn’t felt secure enough.

In the morning, they would be exchanging vehicles, going in two, rather than one, so as not to offend the Pashtun elders who were at the camps set up by the Red Cross and international peace organizations for displaced Pashtuns. These people were without homes due to the many bloody skirmishes in the region. Kit and her team’s plan was for the men to stay in the male side of the camp and take photographs while she and the female interpreter met with the women bringing the young girl. They were told there was a small building where they could set up a formal interview too.

Kit got up, pulling out a small pillow from her rucksack. She made herself as comfortable as she could. Letting her mind wander as she relaxed into sleep, it went to her favorite topic of fantasy these days—Lucas Branson. She wondered where he was—must be somewhere civilized, since he mentioned soap. Of course, he could have been lying. Sleepily, she hoped he was just kidding about someone soaping his back, since that would mean a woman was around to do that. She didn’t think he would let Mink or Dirk soap his back. She grinned in the dark at that image. Now, that would be a great blackmail photo for Lulu.

In spite of the challenges of being in a long distance relationship, she and Lucas had grown to know quite a bit about each other. They’d planned on meeting again as soon as he was able to take a few days off and this time, they were going to spend some private time without their gang of friends. She looked forward to that a lot. It was crazy, but she missed touching him.

She’d learned quite a bit more about him through their communication too. He always asked her what she was doing at that moment. When she’d asked why, the answer was, as usual, simple and direct.

Want to see you in my head, especially doing something normal.

Why? She’d asked again.

It relaxes me after a day of shooting at someone.

Kit yawned, letting go of consciousness with a final thought. Whatever would he think if he knew she was in Afghanistan among government insurgents and mountain warlords? He wouldn’t be so relaxed then, she would bet.

Chapter Six

‡

Lucas looked around. The war room was crowded, with two teams coming in—four or five actually, if one counted the contract agents—and seemed more so once the large screen filled up with the bigger-than-life video feed of Admiral Madison. There were only two women in the room—termed contract operatives over here, since some of the men weren’t familiar with them. Amber Hutchens and Vivi Verreau-Zeringue, members of the Joint Task Force which Admiral Madison had formed some time ago to get better Intel for his SEALs, were there. Ever since compromised Intel from the CIA had caused a SEAL squad to be killed in action, the admiral had taken to working with even more underground networks.

The move had paid off, netting Dragan Dilaver, the one responsible for the SEAL deaths, among other international crimes, with the help of Amber Hutchens. She was what Lucas would term, one hot chica. And she was also Hawk’s fiancée. His team commander had met her during the Dilaver operation and had fallen in love.

Not only beautiful, but one hell of a fighter too. Lucas recalled when the team had learned how she’d saved Hawk’s life all by herself, with a big bag of weapons and some grenades. Right now, she was bent over helping the tech get the live feed to work properly, giving the roomful of appreciative male eyes a nice view of…Lucas looked away, pulling a chair out, and nodding at Mink and Dirk to join in. They were gazing raptly at Miss Hutchens too and he gave them a meaningful look. They shrugged and came over. Okay, so it wasn’t politically correct to check out any women in the war room, especially one his own commander was about to marry, but thank the Lord for hot and capable women, anyway.

Mink echoed his thoughts. He leaned over and whispered, “Pity we can’t make remarks about both women. Taken.”

Dirk nodded. “Taken down,” he said, in a mournful voice. “All casualties on our side too, dammit. Miss Hutchens has Hawk’s number. Jazz went down easy. And there’s Joker pining for his hot mama. Zone’s revealed he’s going out with a senator’s daughter. Cumber’s got Kit on his mind. We’re being taken down one by one.”

“Kit and I just met,” Lucas pointed out. A month could be a lifetime out here in the arena, though.

“Yeah, and got you texting her non-stop whenever we’re near a hotspot.”

“Maybe she’s his hotspot, ever think of that?” Mink quipped. He looked at the front of the room, and added, “At least she’s normal, not like Miss Hutchens and Mrs. V-Z with their penchant to play with guns and take out gangs of thugs.”

They had all agreed to call Jazz’s wife, Mrs. V-Z. Verreau-Zerringue was just too big mouthful. BZVZ, actually. Because that GEM operative sure kept their other commander, Jazz Zerringue, on the move, hopping continents chasing her in between missions. He finally caught her, though, and they’d recently tied the knot. Their wedding had been a huge celebration—all the SEALs and even the admiral attended, not to mention Jazz’s eight sisters and his best friend Hawk’s large family.

Needless to say, the stooges had a good time. Lucas grinned, remembering all the fun chasing the sisters and partying all night.

Taken down. Damn. Dirk was right. His team was losing its bachelors one by one.

The large screen flickered for a few seconds and then Admiral Madison appeared. Everyone stood at attention. ‘Mad Dog’ Madison was Lucas’ personal hero.

The man was a legend. Every young trooper had heard the story of young Lieutenant Mad Dog’s heroic rescue in Operation Canyon Blitz of 4 SEALs, 3 army Rangers, 3 CIA operatives and 25 civilians who were cornered by the enemy, whenever war stories were brought up. Every Navy SEAL wanted to be like the young tough SEAL, Mad Dog Madison.

Now in his mid-fifties, the Admiral was well-respected by everyone, Army or Navy. War hero, famed combat commander, leader of the US Special Operations Command, good friend of the President, perhaps heading for the top seat of Supreme Commander.

Lucas stared up at his idol. Once upon a time, they even had a song about him to which to march. He still remembered mouthing the words while trying not to eat sand during BUD/s. He wondered whether his team mates had the lyrics in their heads after one of Mad Dog’s pep talks.

We wanna be tough like Mad Dog Madison!

How tough is Mad Dog Madison?

He eats lightning and craps thunder

We wanna eat lightning and crap thunder

Just like Mad Dog Madison!

“At ease,” Admiral Madison’s smooth voice came through the speaker. “Congratulations on a successful mission, ladies and gentlemen. Good job.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hawk said.

“Our Joint Mission was a success because we all did our parts. Miss Hutchens’ Intel about Yakob’s involvement with sales of parts of the fallen Stealth has proven correct. And our inside man’s tracking of Yakob’s whereabouts was also important. Without them, our operation wouldn’t have come about. Thank you, Miss Hutchens, thank you, Mr. Kingsley.”

“My pleasure, Admiral,” Amber said, “but everything depended on Shahrukh’s being actually inside and pinpointing where the ceremony was being held. That made it easier since it saved the men valuable time. Your presence was mostly our good fortune, Shahrukh.”

“Our operations crossed paths. It happens a lot these days,” someone up front said. It was the man they’d “captured” along with the Cob. “Number Nine contacted me and I managed to stay longer. What with so many attending the ceremony, no one suspected.”

“I appreciate COS’ help. I hope your operation was just as successful?” Admiral Madison asked.

Shahrukh nodded. “Yes. With your taking me in as prisoner, there won’t be any suspicions until I reappear again somewhere. By then, Number Nine should have taken care of some details.”

Lucas had heard a bit about the COS commandos, of which there were nine, from conversations with Hawk and Jazz. Everything was hush-hush about them. Their orders were to not ask too many questions when other outfits were around, thus, curious as he was about the “crossed paths” component of the mountain search and seize mission, none of the SEALs nor he said anything. Their focus was on getting the Cob, anyhow. Now it was up to other people to question the prisoner and find out about the sold Stealth parts and the various terrorists organizations. Hopefully, the information would prove useful for their battle against the enemy.

Jazz reported the barebones details of what went down. He had a bird’s eye view from the top of the wall before securing the front entrance for the SEALs’ quick exit. The boat crew Chief gave his. Lucas took notes for future reference.

“Again, excellent job tonight. I’d like to hear questions from the rest of the men,” Admiral said.

“Why is everyone calling it a ceremony and not a wedding, sir?” Joker asked.

“You should ask Cumber that question,” Hawk replied.

Lucas looked up, surprised. “Me?”

“You and the stooges crashed through that barn door in such a timely manner, just as the whole thing was getting started, so I thought you’d know the reason,” Hawk pointed out.

“Yeah, especially since you and the stooges knew part of the ceremony was to first roll around in bird poop before crashing through the barn door. Hell, you guys looked like zombies.”

“Smelled like zombies too.”

“Still do.”

The place roared. Lucas shook his head and gave his buddies a side ways glance. They were never going to hear the end of this one.

“We are SEALs. We use all means,” he deadpanned. “But, no, Joker, can’t answer your question, but I suspected there was something odd going on, since you’d think they wouldn’t hold a wedding outside an animal house.”

“It’s not a wedding,” a quiet voice, with a slight French accent, interjected. Everyone turned to Mrs. V-Z. “It’s a ceremony because a girl is being given away as part of an offering for some crime that had been committed towards Yakob’s family, usually as a way to replace a dead relative. It’s called swara. When Shahrukh reported back to Center about staying longer to help Admiral Madison out, he told T and the commandos about what was taking place and how he could be there without being noticed. T, of course, passed on the information to me.”

Lucas had wondered about Vivi V-Z’s role in the operation, but it was clear now she wasn’t actually part of it at all. Vivi had a very, very soft spot for girls in trouble. She was currently in charge of some UN-funded organization for young women who had been victimized by international criminals, such as those who had escaped the sex trafficking cartels.

“That explains the young girl who climbed the rope,” Zone said. “She sure made it up the wall like a champ.”

“What happened to her?” Turner asked.

Zone shrugged. “Don’t know. I pulled her up. She thanked me in English and she took off down the other side of the rope. I’d say she knew where she was going.”

“That’s my fault,” Shahrukh said. “Once she told me she could climb very well, I told her the very moment there was trouble in the yard, to look in the direction where Team Alpha would be coming down. I advised her to wait till the men had climbed down before running there and scaling the wall. She was not to wait and explain anything to you guys because you would be busy and she needed to be out of sight of her immediate family.”

“Thank you for taking care of her for me, Shahrukh,” Vivi said.

“Our missions also crossed paths,” Shahrukh said, with another small smile. “And T was persuasive, as usual.”

All these crossed missions were giving Lucas a headache. That was the problem with joint missions. Everyone was busy taking care of their own agenda. All these people Mad Dog had brought in were mysterious as hell, always in some deep covert operation. Their last one big joint venture had the aforementioned T and Vivi running their own thing while his SEAL team had to explode a bridge.

A success, sure. But still, these women sure brought along a whole handful of other problems. For himself, he liked the KISS principle—keep it simple, stupid. As if reading his mind, Vivi V-Z looked in his direction, straight at him, a smile forming on her face.

“You must have taken a page from my tactical book, Cucumber. I had goats. Now I hear you attacked with chickens.”

“Correction, madam, the stooges were wearing the chickens,” Turner chimed in.

There were more chuckles.

“Lieutenant Commander Zeringue once told me, you do what you have to do,” Vivi said. Her eyebrows came up. “Sometimes, simple things get the job done.”

Lucas frowned. Damn if these GEM operatives couldn’t read minds. Hawk had warned them they were trained in some kind of behavioral testing and manipulation or some such mumbo jumbo. It even had a name—NOPAIN—but he hadn’t really paid much attention to remember what it was all about. He shuffled his feet and shrugged. Let’s see whether he could read minds too and guess Mrs. V-Z’s mission.

“I hope saving the girl who ran off would be just as simple for you, ma’am,” he said.

Vivi shook her head. “Unfortunately, my job is a little bit more complicated since it involves women in a patriarchal-ruled region of the world.” She sighed. “But you and the SEAL team gave me a good running start and for that, I thank you.”

Bingo. He’s got mind-reading skills too.

“Joint missions require clear communication,” Admiral Madison said. His blue eyes flashed some emotion as he continued, “Remember our fallen brothers. They died because every damn agency wasn’t sharing. Meanwhile, the rats stole our weaponry and secrets and sold them around the world. I’m here in DC still trying to untangle this damn mess. One thing is clear. I do not want a repeat of our men coming back in body bags because of greedy traitors. You have questions, go to your leader. They’ll communicate your concerns to me. We’ll try to double check all Intel through our joint missions. Are we clear?”

“Hooyah!”

Heard, understood, acknowledged. Everyone in the room was solemn as they remembered their fallen comrades. It had recently surfaced that traitor rats and sleeper agents had, for the last ten years, been infesting the CIA and FBI. It was going to take years to undo all the damage. The admiral had told them they were in the crossfire and all must be prepared at all times.

Lucas was up to the challenge. He had chosen to be a SEAL because, like his father, he wanted to serve and protect. All these joint missions might be confusing, but the admiral always laid out the big picture. He appreciated that most of all. What was important, what was the honorable thing to do, what was the stuff that made a warrior a warrior.

Hooyah! As always, he silently hummed the Admiral Madison song in his head.

*

Shahrukh liked this group of men and women. A bit too rowdy, compared to his smaller group of commandos, and yet, strangely, a bit too disciplined, what with their rules and standard operation procedures. But then, a military should be rigid, with obedient warriors who would act with courage, or everything would be chaos. If everyone started to question every order, there would be no action at all.

These SEALs in the war room were definitely warriors in his book. He’d seen them in action and admired the precision they had in executing their raid and capture of Yakob. Everything went smoothly, down to the last minute decision to have himself captured too, so that he would have a way out of there without drawing suspicion. They’d done so without asking questions and like good warriors, made a difficult mission seem easy.

On the other hand, these men would never fit in with his own covert group of commandos, better known as Viruses. A specially hand-picked nine, his unit had been trained to subvert and invade insidiously. After all, that was what COS Command stood for—Covert Subversive Command Center.

Shahrukh had no illusions about what his unit was. Their kind were silent killers. None of this “Hooyah” and “Yes, sir, yes!” stuff yelled out in unison. They were the shadows, the scary ones who could be monsters. Center had created them, experimenting more with some or, like with him, picking him for his vast knowledge of weaponry and poison. He was a relatively new addition to the Virus Project, brought in as a replacement for one of the few who had been murdered in a series of planned explosions. At first, he was “borrowed” from his former organization, but he’d chosen to stay on. He was intrigued by his new friends—this silent group of warriors who didn’t quite own their own souls.

Of course he’d been intrigued. He had met his own kind.

Again, he studied those around him in silence. Their world was, by necessity, black and white. They functioned in direct action, looking for direct results. It wasn’t a bad way to live, really. He imagined most civilized people liked to think the world moved that way. And young people, when they joined to be part of an army, should have this outlook—black was black, white was white. Simple.

If only.

With the meeting over, he should take his leave. He had much to do. He thought about the bag of opium seeds hidden away. He smiled, a small self-mocking lift of the lips. He didn’t think these young warriors would like his next—very gray—move.

“Cumber, stay for a few minutes,” he heard Hawk say.

The big guy from the back nodded. “Aye, sir.”

A hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his attention to Vivi Verreau. Now, her kind, he was familiar with. GEM operatives were devious and worked in the shadows too, although Vivi Verreau, now married to that SEAL with the Cajun accent, were a lot less devious and secretive than her other sister GEM operatives.

“T wanted to make sure you have all you needed before you depart. What can I do to help?”

Shahrukh lifted his brows. “T must be worried. Or needing another favor.”

Vivi smiled in acknowledgement. “You know T, always multi-tasking.”

“Tell her this trader needs a good horse.”

“I can arrange that. She also told me you might want to head to Karakoram and if you do, she’ll need you to trade there for information.”

Karakoram, the Silk Road. Everyone traded there, legally and illegally. Shahrukh had an idea what he’d be trading.

“All trade roads lead to Karakoram,” he acknowledges. “It’s very beautiful there. You should go sometime,” he said. “You’ll find certain vehicles full of girls who are sold as wives for desperate Indian families.”

He understood the information Vivi was looking for. She had the biggest heart when it came to young women.

“I see.” She handed him a card. “Call this number.”

He took and pocketed it without reading it first. “I know T’s busy running so many operations. I report back to Jed but from talking with the others, his head isn’t one hundred percent in the game at the moment. Since I haven’t seen him, I’d like T to tell me directly. She’s better at analyzing the situation at Center than anyone else.”

He wasn’t really concerned about Number Nine yet, but it was always helpful to listen to outside opinion, especially from an expert people manipulator like T. If there was anything wrong with Jed, T would be the first to take charge of his current mission. He smiled slightly, thinking of another one of his Virus teammates, Number One, who had recently returned to the fold because of T. That had caused some friction. Perhaps he was wrong in his assumption on who would be in charge.

Nothing black and white. Nothing rigid. No standard operation procedure in his world of shadows.

“How many do you want me to purchase, Vivi?” Shahrukh asked. “You can’t save all of them, you know.”

“My husband once told me, we do what we can to save the world.”

“Interesting. An old soul.” Shahrukh gazed in Jazz Zeringue’s direction.

As if he knew he was talked about, Jazz joined them. “Everything all right, chou-chou?”

“Yes. Can we get a horse for Shahrukh?” she asked.

“This late at night?” Jazz asked, amused. “What is this, a farm? Chickens, horses, goats. This is a war room.”

“We have horses here. Our mountain guides are sleeping, though,” Hawk, walking by with Cucumber, said. “I’ll have Lucas get you one after I’ve signed some papers. It’ll take about half-an-hour, Mr. Kingsley.”

“Call me Shahrukh. Thank you.” Shahrukh turned to the big man who had been the brunt of most of the jokes. “That cut from the knife. Does it burn?”

Lucas shook his head. “Negative. I’m fine.”

“Take care you let a medic take a look. We sometimes dip our blades in poison around here. I don’t think you’re in trouble but the knife might still have traces of poison to cause some infection.”

Shahrukh studied the other men’s reaction. Jazz and Hawk were looking at their man closely. Lucas Branson, after stiffening at the information, had released a breath and looked back at him calmly. Good man. Panic just made the poison, if there were any, work faster.

“I’ll go get the horse. You go let Mink take a look ASAP, Cumber,” Hawk ordered.

“I’m feeling fine,” Lucas said.

“Better safe than sorry. ASAP, sailor.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Shahrukh didn’t back down from the eye-to-eye challenge Lucas gave him. For a SEAL, he was a big guy. They were about the same height and Shahrukh was six feet three. He didn’t think the other man had actually been poisoned but he wanted to test these SEALs, with their tough-guy reputation.

“You could have mentioned it after the Cob was marched off,” Lucas challenged.

“It slipped my mind,” Shahrukh said mildly. “I couldn’t think properly with my ears ringing from all the gunfire.”

It had been very noisy. They sure had used up a lot of ammo to capture one man. Such a strategy wasn’t Shahrukh’s style but he didn’t run an army of men who had plenty of toys that went boom.

“Do you dip your blades in poison?” Lucas asked, looking him up and down.

“Sometimes,” Shahrukh replied. “Nevertheless, there might be traces left on unclean blades. I assumed you’ve had your tetanus shots through the military.”

Lucas nodded curtly. “Tetanus and other various shots.”

“That’s good. But like your commander says, better safe than sorry. If you feel anything unusual during the next forty-eight hours, report to your medic and get to a hospital.”

“Right, in the middle of the mountains or jungles,” Lucas replied dryly. “Just dial 9-1-1.”

Shahrukh dipped his head in acknowledgement. “There is the possibility of your inability to get help while on a mission. Better stay on base.”

“Fuck that.”

“Branson,” Hawk cut in, his tone quiet.

“I apologize,” Lucas said curtly. “I’ll take your suggestion under advisement.”

Shahrukh nodded again. “Apology accepted. It was just conjecture. Probably nothing.”

Deliberately, he caught Vivi’s gaze long enough that she nodded imperceptibly. He was the foreign-looking entity in this room and probably not fully trusted. He didn’t blame them. His file, if they had any dossier on him, probably wouldn’t vouch for him being one hundred percent the good guy. But Vivi would make sure her husband kept an eye on the big SEAL.

Worrying about other people was the least of his concerns. He had his own duties to take care of and a few family obligations. He’d thought perhaps life would be easier if he put revenge out of his mind, that the past few years in his new environment with the COS commandos with their intensive experiments and mind subversive tactics, he would easily put away his former life. He had been wrong. Drugs and mind control experiments only worked in limited fashion. Unfortunately, his lifelong acquaintance with herbal drugs and poison had given him a certain level of immunity.

“I’ll walk with you,” Hawk said. “You can pick out the best available horse. Cumber, go to see the Medic. Mink! Go with Cucumber. I want a report of his status by morning, if not earlier.”

“Aye, sir,” Mink said, walking over, his gaze on Shahrukh. “What’s the matter, dude? Feeling sick?”

“Nope,” Lucas replied.

Shahrukh gave a slight smile. “Cucumber?” he repeated softly. Was that Lucas Branson’s nickname? These guys were funny. “Is that what you’re called?”

“To my friends, yes,” Lucas replied tersely, his eyes narrowing. “Do they give out nicknames in your culture?”

“I have several, actually. Mostly, they’re exaggerated promises, like Magnificent Bearer of Good News, a name I’ve yet to live up to.”

“Huh. Well, there’s nothing exaggerated about Lucas’ nickname,” the SEAL Hawk had called over, Mink, said. “Just a big promise.”

Shahrukh noted the easy demeanor—intelligent eyes, friendly smile, alert stance. He suspected this one was the charmer of the group.

“That’s good then,” he said smoothly. “Cucurbitacin C, found in cucumber, can both be a toxin and an antidote to some poisons. I would say your nickname might be a lucky one.”

Mink frowned, then shook his head bewilderedly. “Ohhhhkay. Let’s go and let us check out that wound, bro. If we stand around here all night, I’ll have to cucurbitacin somebody.”

As the two men turned away, Shahrukh handed Lucas his card. “Here. My number. If you ever need any advice about poisons and weapons, feel free to call me.”

“Uh. Thanks,” the other man said, a puzzled look in his eyes.

He watched them walk off. It was an impulsive gesture but something told him this man and he would cross paths again in the future. After all, how could he ignore an old woman’s prophesy which had sounded so crazy a decade ago but suddenly now came to mind, triggered, of all things, by a stupid American nickname?

To find your diamond, my child, three guides. In your dealings, be aware of toxins. In times of danger, move like the spider. In your search, you must make sure the cucumber flourishes.

His crazy grandmother, “seer” of his tribe, was long gone, along with much of the tribal fortune. But her words, seared in his memory, had surfaced with that silly nickname.

“Ready?” Hawk asked, interrupting his reverie. He too had a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“Of course,” Shahrukh answered. Enough playing the strange foreigner talking about poisons and potions. He’d probably spooked half the people in this room. Back at Center, he was known to be the quiet but mostly sane one. Sully would probably have had a good laugh at seeing how his attempt at small talk had devolved into too much interest in another man’s little flesh wound.

Chapter Seven

‡

“Change of plans, Kit.”

Kit looked up from the dictionary and translation she was trying to decipher. “Why?” She adjusted the mic in her ear. “What’s wrong?”

They were in separate vehicles, getting ready equipment and notes before meeting with the girl. Sound checks, video feed, battery, foreign phrases, things like that. Then she and the female interpreter would put their head scarves on and make their way to the women’s side of the camp to meet with the worker from Save The Children and the camp comptroller. Meanwhile, Sean and his photographer would walk around and take some photographs and interview those who ran the camp. Then once they’d gotten permission, they would meet at a public place to get few pictures of the girl.

The refugee camp was one of the poorest in the area, so they had prepared bags of clothing, food and toys as a gesture of goodwill. Kit was looking forward to finding out more about the displaced people here. Her research had shown Afghan refugees in Pakistan, especially around the borders, were the highest in the world. Yet, most media had only concentrated on the war and the politics, not on the plight of the homeless inhabitants here. Kit wanted to know more, first-hand.

“Minah is being sought by her relatives and she’s in hiding. We can’t interview her in the open,” Sean told her.

“I thought she was getting help from a few of her relatives,” Kit said.

“Yes, I thought so too, but according to the camp comptroller, things didn’t go according to plan. A runaway from one camp to another was one thing, but a runaway from a swara while the ceremony was taking place is humiliation to her family. Everyone’s out looking for her.”

“Where is she?”

There was a pause. “Alone?”

Kit checked. “Yes.”

“Take Joanna with you to the back of the camp,” Sean instructed. “The comptroller sent someone to lead you to Minah. I’m on the other side of the camp and will come behind you with another guide. We have to take it slow and easy, as if nothing is wrong.”

Kit pulled up her backpack from under the seat and began stuffing things she thought she might need. “We’ll bring some of the gift bags to distribute. That way, it would look as if we were just moving among the women.”

“Good idea.” Sean said. Then, he added in a quiet voice. “Be careful, Kit. The comptroller warned that the relatives looking for her are armed.”

A shiver of alarm went through her. “They aren’t…going to hurt her, right?”

Another pause. “I don’t know. You have to get that information about the groom before anything happens. Do you follow?”

Kit frowned. A young girl’s life was hanging in the balance and all the man cared about was information about the groom? The guy the girl hated so much she was actually running away from him and his family?

She opened her mouth and then closed it. There was no time for debate right now. She had no idea what she was going to do but was determined to save Minah, wherever she was.

Joanna was also a seasoned photo-journalist, snapping pictures and making her way through the small crowd of women as Kit handed out the little bags. The ladies, some of whom spoke English, were gracious, thanking them for the packages. In spite of the need to hurry, Kit felt good at the small sparkle of delight she caught in the women’s eyes when they looked inside their bags. There were even some squeals from the accompanying children when they saw the toys. Joanna recorded some of those moments with her digital camera.

One of the women tugged at Kit’s sleeve, pointing in one direction. “There are some children over there, taking their lessons in the classroom. Perhaps you have more toys for them?”

Kit looked and saw that it was to the back of the camp, just as Sean had told her. Taking her cue, she smiled and nodded. “That would be great. Can you take us?” She picked up another box of goodies. “Let’s go over there now, Joanna.”

“All right,” Joanna said, smiling down at the children. “See you later! I’ll be back to show you some of these photos, okay?”

Waving at the others, they followed the woman. Kit tried not to appear to hurry too much, just in case someone was watching. She wasn’t even sure what to expect, really. An armed family looking for one of its daughters was beyond any scope of her experience.

“This way,” said their guide. “The children are anxious.”

They stepped into a corridor along which were several open doors and Kit saw another woman’s face peering out of one of them. Her blue head scarf was off, tied around her neck.

“That’s Fatimah,” their guide told them and waved. “Assalamu alaikum was rahmantullah.”

“Wa alaikum assalaam,” the other woman returned the greeting.

Kit had been practicing the two formal phrases, translated loosely as “Peace be with you and may Allah bless you” and “upon you be peace.”

“Assalamu alaikum,” she said, a little hesitantly.

The other woman’s serious expression broke into a welcoming smile. She returned the greeting softly and beckoned them to join her.

When Kit entered the room, she found it filled with young girls, probably between nine and fourteen, sitting quietly on the floor. They looked up at her expectantly.

Quietest classroom ever. Kit turned to their guide. “Can you introduce us and tell them that these bags are for them?”

“Yes. And while Fatimah is passing them out, you have to come with me.”

“Of course.” Kit turned and smiled at the girls sitting so sedately. “Hello, there!”

Joanna took a photo of them during the introduction. The girls’ smiles of delight were worth everything. They were too well-behaved to rush to her, though, remaining seated and waiting for their teacher to give them permission.

At Fatimah’s order, they all chorused, in English, “Thank you very much, Miss Kit and Miss Joanna.”

While the teacher was passing out the presents, the guide tugged at Kit’s sleeve again. Kit nodded and she and Joanna waved and walked out of the classroom.

“You never told me your name,” Kit said.

“Hamidah.”

“Thank you for doing this,” Kit said.

The woman shook her head. “It’s not my wish but she needs more help than I can give her.”

She must be talking about Minah, the missing girl. Kit wondered how the women had gotten Minah here without everyone knowing. The girl’s school was the perfect place to meet and her bringing the gifts certainly provided a way to tour the classrooms. Thank goodness for good ideas.

They entered a room in the back. A lone girl sat there, so still she could have been part of the furniture. Her head scarf was down too, revealing tumbled dark hair tied to the side, framing a small face. She stared at them, her features drawn in tense lines.

“You must hurry,” Hamidah told them, and then addressed the girl sharply in Pashto, adding, in English, “I also told her to do the same. Minah, this is Miss Kit and Miss Joanna. I’ll stand outside the door to make sure no one interrupts.”

Joanna said something in Pashto which appeared to relax Minah into a shy and uneasy smile. Although she appeared uneasy, her dark eyes held a grim purpose. She said something back and Joanna indicated her camera and recorder. Kit recognized a few of the words. Reporters. Film.

Joanna beckoned to Kit. “She said she wants her story told before she dies.”

Kit frowned. No one was going to die. Not on her watch. She had meant to start out gently, thinking she had to coax the details out of a girl who could hardly have had any experience about adult matters. The person sitting here, though, with that determined gaze, didn’t need coaxing at all.

After a quick set up, Joanna indicated she had everything ready. Minah had been watching raptly. She leaned forward, as if eager to begin talking.

Kit pressed the record button. “She can tell her story in her own words,” she said. In Pashto, she added, “Just start, Minah.”

An avalanche of words tumbled out from the young girl’s mouth

*

“Dude, I don’t like how red that wound looks.”

Lucas paused in the middle of putting on a clean pair of socks. “Stop looking at my body then. Besides, you’re the one who sewed me. It’s probably all red from your tugging that thread through my abs of steel.”

Mink grinned and got off his bunk. He leaned down. “The stitches are beautiful. Like Picasso’s work.”

Lucas snorted and returned to his task. “Oh yeah, exactly like Picasso’s.”

Dirk’s head appeared from the top bunk. “Have you actually looked at Picasso’s paintings, man? Big headed, one-eyed, weird shit.”

Mink reached out and touched Lucas’ stitches. “Geniuses are never appreciated,” he said absently. “Hmm. Soft.”

“Hey, you’re making me nervous,” Lucas growled, elbowing him away. “And stop pulling on the stitches.”

“I’m barely touching them. Heightened sensitivity. The bruising looks normal, though. Did you take the drugs the doc gave you?”

Lucas shrugged. “He said, if the pain was getting to me. It wasn’t.” It was just a knife wound. No big deal. He’d had injuries worse than this one. “Slept like a baby.”

“Actually, you didn’t,” Dirk said. “I heard you tossing and turning quite a bit.”

“Yup, me too,” Mink agreed.

“What are you guys, my babysitters?” Lucas waved them away. “That Afghan insider’s words got in your heads, clowns.”

Mink pointed a finger at him. “I’m watching you closely today, pal. I know how you are. You’ll fall over before you admit you’re in pain.”

Lucas got off the bunk. Mink knew him too damn well. “Yeah, yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “I’m putting on some clothes and heading off to look for food. You two can squabble about who gets my big balls when I die from this little scratch.”

He stalked off, feeling restless. He hadn’t lied. He did sleep. Just not well. But he’d always had a difficult time going into full relaxed mode after a night of action so a bit of tossing and turning in bed didn’t bother him one bit. It wasn’t as if the bunk bed was as comfy as, say, Kit’s bed.

Kit. Hmm. He was hungry for Kit. He wondered what she was doing right now. She did mention being out on an interview job where there were no hotspots for texting. Too bad. He had the sudden urge to ask her what her bed looked like.

He grinned. Now, he wouldn’t mind having his abs and other body parts checked out by that woman. She had the most arousing way of smoothing her hands up and down his body. Half massage, half teasing promise. She had first done that to his back, from his shoulder blades all the way down his ass and over the back of his calves. Then, when he’d turned over at her soft request, she’d done the same to his front side, from his pecs, down his tightened ab muscles, over the top of his thighs…and then her mouth had come down between his thighs and…man, now that woman was Picasso with her mouth and tongue. Lucas growled again. Dammit, he was going to walk around with a telltale hard-on with two concerned bros at his heels.

Coffee. Lots of coffee and some protein. That was all he needed.

Fortunately, Dirk and Mink dropped the subject and went about like they normally did, bickering and talking about plans. There were a few other people eating with them and he chose to ignore the little digs about their adventure under the damned hen house. The moment the Stooges joined their table, a few of them started sniffing the air and plugging their noses, complaining about the odd stench.

One of the men clucked like a chicken and the others laughed.

“Pussies,” he said mildly, as he started spooning food in his mouth.

Being alive was good. He could deal with a few good-natured ribbing from guys who had gone through a firefight with him, no problem. It was healthy just to let loose for a bit, even a few minutes, because too soon, one would be back on alert, taking care of the business of war. So he appreciated whatever time there was that gave these guys to hang and be human, and if it was his friends’ and his balls they wanted to bust this morning, well, his were plenty big and they knew it.

“I’m still wondering about that strange dude with us at the end. You know who I mean,” one of the men on the boat crew—Callahan—said, salting his food with the exuberance of a man who didn’t think much about high blood pressure. “Wonder what else he gets out of it.”

“What do you mean?” Lucas asked. “What are you doing, trying to ferment your breakfast?”

The other man grimaced. “Hey, just trying to make my food edible. Anyway, about that dude. You know how these double agents are. They don’t do nothing for free.”

“I don’t think he’s one, though,” Mink said. “More like, undercover.”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty calm through all that commotion on the boat, like he’s familiar with big caliber guns shooting around him. I’m just curious, that’s all. Not used to Joint Missions with so many different sides. Usually, we just pick you crazy SEALs up or drop you off, that’s it. This time, we have to transport those female agents around too. Kind of effed up, if you ask me.”

Lucas’ ear pricked up. “Transporting them? Up and down the river?”

“Yeah, and at low speeds. They had their high-tech binoculars out looking for something or someone. Like I said, effed up.”

This was all said quietly among them, since they were giving opinions about higher command. Lucas hadn’t questioned the presence of Vivi and Amber, but he remembered how uncomfortable his team had been when they had their first Joint Mission experience with Vivi and her outfit. Not that they were women, because capable women in combat situations were fine with them, but because they were so damn secretive and no one appeared to know what they were up to. Hell, Vivi’s role during their Joint Mission in Asia almost gave his two commanders simultaneous heart attacks when they found out. Too late, by then, of course, thanks to the wily woman who had known to keep her plans close to her chest until it was too late.

Lucas had admired the bold plan, though. Vivi had brought her A-game, letting the team do their job while she accomplished her mission. He liked her very much and she’d gained enough respect that neither he nor his team had even thought about what her role was in this particular mission. But, of course, the boat crew hadn’t met her or Amber Hutchens before, and they were showing the same signs of uneasiness about working with strange people from outfits they’d never heard of.

Lucas thoughtfully studied the men as he chewed and swallowed his food. “Our team has worked with them. They’re very capable,” he finally said. “Whatever they’re up to, they know what they’re doing and won’t jeopardize your lives unnecessarily. They aren’t sight-seeing, I bet.”

“I know they’re scouting or looking for someone or something, but out in the open like that? Dangerous,” Callahan said.

“Yeah, they’re great looking women, but we aren’t looking for hood ornaments for our boat,” another of the guys chimed in.

Lucas grinned. Oh, man, Vivi V-Z and Amber Hutchens were going to have a fit if they knew they were being seen as hood ornaments. He felt compelled to defend them. It was his duty, since they were both, respectively, wife and fiancée of his commanders.

“One of them is actually an experienced tracker,” he said. “She’s probably looking for something that had to do with routes. As for the other, the first time I met her, she was disguised as an old lady and arresting military personnel left and right. I didn’t even know that old lady was her when I met her again. Trust me, dudes. These women know what they’re doing.”

“Yeah,” Mink agreed. “There are more of them too. All deadly, like Bond chicks. They all snare men like they snared our commanders.”

The guys at their table snorted and laughed some more.

“If you’re reporting back to your C.O.s, I’ve nothing against women in the military. These two, though, are more CIA-type, all close-mouthed about their agendas,” Callahan said, “and you know how much they don’t share.”

Lucas nodded. CIA tactics had backfired before because of the agency’s habit of not sharing vital information about their work at the most frustrating moments. “Agreed. All I can say is Admiral Madison is trying to change things by opening up different channels, using other networks. You guys know we lost some SEAL brothers precisely because of an operation that went FUBAR and it was all due to bad information, deliberately fed by rats in the CIA.”

“Who doesn’t know about it? The shit hit the fan last year and was all over the papers.”

Lucas nodded again. He should know. He’d had a hand in the capture of Gorman, the traitor who had been selling secrets for ten years. There was a huge scandal in D.C. and heads were still rolling.

“Action speaks, right?” He asked. When the others nodded, he continued, “Then, look at what’s happening. Mad Dog made a promise to get things done right. He’d gone to DC and headed up some independent hearing, spending all this time back home to get those bastards who are responsible for not just our brothers’ lives, but so many others, by selling information and moving weapons to our enemies. Since he’d started pulling in these independent contractors and double checking information feeds, Mad Dog had scored us Dilaver, the main guy who had our SEALs killed. The Joint Mission netted us a kill and several important caches of weapons that had been missing from our storage facilities. Success and survival. That’s all I care about, dudes. Fuck the paperwork and passing around of useless info.”

“Hear, hear!”

“Amen.”

“Seeing that you’re tight with River Devil, and he speaks highly of you, I’ll take your word about those indie contractors’ capabilities,” Callahan said with a smile. “I still can’t see them jumping into the arena, weapons a-blazing, though, so can’t even imagine how Mrs. Zeringue could have been with you guys during your stint in Asia, mowing down Triad brothers.”

Lucas exchanged glances with Mink and Dirk. They were all remembering Vivi’s herd of goats and how she had single-handedly divided a contingent of trucks in half for the SEAL team. They started chuckling.

“Callahan, you have to see it to believe it,” he told the guys as he downed the last of his coffee. Pushing back his chair, he stood up. “I expect we’ll be needing your assistance again soon.”

“Yup. We’ll get wet and party, as usual.”

Lucas grinned. Damn river cowboys. They loved their boat and they loved to make a hell of a noise while in it. If he hadn’t made it in BUD/s, he’d have tried to make it into the Special Warfare Combatant-Craft boat teams. An SWCC was in the league of Rangers, Green Beret and the SEALs, after all.

“Tell Devil to give me a buzz,” he said.

“Gotcha.”

Lucas, Dirk and Mink walked off, with Mink grabbing a handful of cookies and popping a couple into his mouth. The rest he put in his pocket.

“You’ll just get cookie crumbles if you’re keeping them for later,” Lucas said.

“Oh, like it’s going to be still there later,” Dirk said. “Mink has the sweetest tooth this side of the world, man.”

“Sweetest mouth,” Mink corrected. “Sweetest tongue too, I’ve been told.”

“Cumber’s got the biggest balls. You’ve got the sweetest tongue. I must be the one with the longest dick.”

Lucas snorted. “There, we’re set to please all the ladies.”

“Talking about ladies, you didn’t sit in the corner passing love notes with Kit this morning. What’s up with that?” Mink asked.

Lucas gave Mink a sideway glance. “Maybe you’ve got the nosiest nose.”

Dirk threw back his head and laughed. “Maybe you should shut that sweet mouth or you’ll also get the blackest eye.”

Mink popped another cookie into his mouth, crunching it noisily. “Maybe you two are just jealous because I’ve got the nicest—Morning, Sir!”

They all stood at attention and saluted Lieutenant Commander Jazz Zeringue. He returned the salute. His wife, Vivi, was with him, dressed in camos.

“Good morning, Ma’am!”

“Stooges,” he said, his grin betraying his amusement. “You know your voices carry down the hallway. I’m sure Vivi is thinking your looks are all you guys talk about.”

“Our apologies, ma’am,” Mink said.

“No need. We women enjoy your male banter,” Vivi said, smiling.

“Going off already, Ma’am?” Lucas asked, eyeing the small suitcase Jazz was carrying.

“I have to pick up somebody and then I’m off.”

“Last night’s little melee brought out all the tribal family branches looking for that girl. Vivi wants to get to her before they do. I’d like the three of you to come with us. While she’s doing her thing, I want you all to get to talk to some of the men there, see if you can get any info about the Cob’s network. I’m going to talk to the jirga.”

The jirga was the elected tribal heads. Getting on the jirga’s good side was always the key to cooperation with the tribal families. Right now, they needed some of them to look away while they conducted some searches for the stolen Stealth parts.

“Aye, sir! We’ll meet you outside with our gear.”

Chapter Eight

‡

Kit had done her research for their investigative report. Intellectually, she understood the concept of swara. In this part of the world, the Pashto people had a custom called pashtunswali—taking revenge to maintain honor. This was viewed as justice.

Their investigation into the Pashto singer’s death report was based on the suspicion she was murdered because of this custom. She had publicly divorced her husband a year ago and went back into performing publicly, something deeply conservative Afghan and Pakistani men deemed as unseemly. Therefore her death came as no surprise to many people here. Although she was an immensely popular singer, the opinion that her murder was justified was accepted, with little moral outrage.

Sean Cortez had told her he wanted to dig deeper, to get the investigative piece to resonate about culture and deep tribal beliefs, and how change was difficult for Pashtun women. The topic was a timely one because of the recent push by Afghan and Iranian women for small changes, such as driving a car by themselves and even getting an education. Also, the one incident of the girl who had bravely fought against her elders because she wanted to go to school had made international headlines. Sean wanted to show more, to get the readers’ imagination fired up about how these women were committing acts of bravery everyday by doing what would seem normal and mundane for those living outside this culture.

Kit was just as eager to use their Internet radio program as a platform for international women’s issues and had studied her butt off on the subject. However, no amount of research prepared her for the words pouring out of Minah’s mouth.

The girl looked so young. The matter-of-factness with which she told her story was chilling and disquieting. The first part was how she became a young bride. Her brother killed a rival family’s son, whose father was also related to one of the tribal elders. The bad blood between the two clans escalated quickly. Finally, the other side demanded that his death must be avenged to stop more bloodshed. After the elders of her clan discussed among themselves, it was decided she was to be given as payment. She told Kit and Joanna that one day, when she was playing with her toys, her mother had sat down and told her she was going to be a bride of swara, as payment for her brother’s crime. She was to be held in dishonor for the rest of her life and must prepare her life as someone on whom her new family would look down. For the rest of her life, she would be a reminder of the member who was lost and would be treated accordingly.

Minah stopped every minute or two so Joanna could make a quick interpretation and give Kit time to ask questions, but Kit found herself turning away to hide her tears. She felt so sad for the girl and helpless regarding her plight. Besides the interview, what could she do?

“What do you want to do now?” she asked, through Joanna.

*

Kit nodded. Such simple answers, yet so many obstacles. Her mind was working furiously, laying out any options for the young interviewee. Could she perhaps make her the focus of the article and get international attention for her plight, just like Malala? But it had to be done quickly because of her circumstances.

The laptop buzzed an incoming signal. Sean must be checking in. Joanna leaned over and clicked open a window on the screen. Sean’s face appeared, slightly blurred from the bad lighting and odd angle from his tablet.

“I’m not too far away but the jirga is insisting I talk to them first. You need to ask about the husband or intended. Not sure whether they’re formally married or not,” he said.

“Okay,” Kit said.

“I’ll check in now and then. The jirga’s information is useful too.”

He cut off before she could reply. She turned to Minah. “Your escape,” she said, trying to lead the girl to the ceremony itself. “Tell me how it was possible. I’d imagine it must have been very difficult to run off.”

“I thought so too, but it was actually quite easy,” Minah told her. Her voice became excited, her gaze animated. “There was this man from the other family. Unlike the others, he was kind to me. He gave me something to eat, asked how I was. I told him I didn’t want to be there because everyone hated me. I wanted my toys. I wanted books. He was very kind. He brought me a book and then he asked me how good I was at climbing ropes.”

Kit frowned. “Why did he ask you that?”

Minah shrugged. “He came one more time after that and told me if I wanted to run, I must follow his instructions. He said, when things go crazy during the peace agreement ceremony, when my family and my….” She paused, looking away for an instant. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “When my family and the other family come together, there would be a lot of things happening. He asked me to keep looking at the wall to the back and when I see a rope coming down, I was to wait until the men climb down. Then when everything is happening, I can climb up and make my way down to this camp.”

Kit and Joanna exchanged glances. “He gave you all these instructions,” Kit reiterated. There was something more happening here than just a peace agreement between two tribal families. When the girl nodded, she asked, “What about the men climbing down from the wall? Were they your friends?”

The girl shrugged again.

When she didn’t say anything, Kit tried a different question. “So, from your story, this man who helped you. Did he have a name? No? Okay. He obviously helped you, right? So what did these men do for you?”

“They were men with weapons. Many of them. There was a big fight. Bang! Bang, bang, bang! I wasn’t afraid. I’ve heard guns go off before. My mother has shot guns before too. Big. Men. Big. Guns.” She said the last four words in English and looked at them proudly.

Ah. There had been some kind of skirmish. “And they helped you run to the wall and you climbed it,” Kit said.

Minah shook her head again. “No, they were fighting. I just ran. No one helped me.” She paused, frowning, as if remembering something. “No, the man on top of the wall, he helped. He pulled me up. And he was a Westerner. Not local.”

Whoa. Kit leaned forward. She glanced over at Joanna. “Ask her whether all the men who helped her were Westerners.”

The girl nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, they were Westerners. Dressed all in black, with black guns and face all streaked like fierce warriors. I don’t know who they are but they were after some people. Not from my family.” She said the last sentence firmly, as if to affirm she wasn’t part of the other tribal group. She gripped her scarf nervously, tying and untying it. “Everyone is angry with me now. My own family, the teachers here, the jirga. They told me being disobedient like this is very bad and I bring shame to my family, running off. Is it wrong? Do you think everyone hates me?”

“Of course not. We don’t hate you,” Kit said. Haltingly, she pointed to herself and said in Pashto, “I will help.”

Joanna turned to her sharply. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. How are you going to help her?”

“International exposure. Something. We have to try, Joanna.”

“Yeah, I know, but you can’t tell her that. She’s too young to understand how long that might take.”

Minah grabbed her hand and said, in English, “Thank you. Want go school. Malala, my heroine.”

She was nodding at Kit and Joanna, waiting for their confirmation that they understood her English and she beamed when they nodded back.

“Ask her where she can stay while we get help for her. I mean, her family is mad at her. What’s her family name? And the other family too. We’re going to have to make sure we don’t accidentally talk to the wrong people.”

Kit wrote down in her notebook. The names are all so long and difficult to remember. Malala, the girl about whom Minah was talking, was the name of the brave little girl who lived in the Swat Valley, who was shot because of her activism promoting education for women. Kit was now more than a little worried about the same fate happening to Minah.

She muttered to Joanne. “Back home, we’re trying to get our girls to stay in school and not marry young. Over here, it’s the complete opposite. They shoot at girls who want to go to school!”

“Education is dangerous, my friend. And an educated female is even more so,” Joanna murmured back.

“I’m going to make that the headline of our piece,” Kit told her.

The laptop screen came back to the live feed, with Sean’s face peering in, his voice urgent. “Get out of there. Over. Get out of there, Kit. There are two vehicles heading your—fuck!”

There were some fuzzy images—houses shown sideways, running feet, scenery going by at odd angles—on the screen, like someone holding on to a moving cam and running. At the same time, Kit heard high-pitched voices out in front and the unmistakable squealing of tires. Then—a crash. People were shouting and screaming. Then, angry male voices.

They all jumped out of their seats. For one second, Kit stood there, her mind blank, indecisive.

Hamidah’s head popped in, her eyes filled with fear. “They are here for her!” She pointed at Minah. “You have to go with them before they kill us all!”

Kit snatched up her laptop and backpack. She looked around her. There were no windows from which to climb out.

*

The moment Jazz made the turn and entered the refugee camp area, they all smelled it. The acrid smoky smell of burning. Something was on fire.

Everyone was running in one direction, pointing and shouting—men, women, children. Lucas hung his head out of the window, craning his neck to look beyond the gathering crowd.

“I suppose there’s no fire department to call,” he commented.

“We’re supposed to meet with the comptroller at the office,” Vivi said. “I’m sure no one is there right now.”

“We’ll follow the crowd but the vehicle is moving too slowly. Cumber, you guys get out and see what’s going on. If it’s a big fire, ‘com’ me. I’ll radio for help.

*

“Is there a back door?” Kit asked, striding towards Hamidah.

“Yes,” the woman replied. “In the kitchen.”

Kit grabbed Minah’s hand. “Let’s go!”

Once they were out of the classroom, the shouts were louder, followed by horrific crashes, as if people were kicking down doors and furniture. There were shrieks from the women and children. Kit recognized some of the words.

“Stop!”

“Help us!”

What was happening out front? Surely Minah’s family wouldn’t hurt innocent women and children.

The three of them rushed along, following Hamidah. There seemed to be an endless array of corridors leading to the back. Turning a corner, their flight came to an immediate halt. Black smoke wafted out of the doorway in front of them. The kitchen was on fire.

*

Lucas looked over the heads of the men in front of him and swore.

“That’s the school,” Lucas told Mink, lengthening his strides. “Radio back to Jazz. Tell them the school’s on fire. I overheard Vivi saying the girl she’s picking up is inside. Come on, let’s get over there.”

He pushed several onlookers out of the way. Some of the men were pulling out hoses. Others were standing in line with buckets.

As he ran nearer, he gave the surroundings a quick inspection. He didn’t like what he was seeing. There was a big truck blocking the front of the school building. Another smaller truck had rammed through what looked like the remains of the entrance. A pile of wood was burning near the front steps, but that couldn’t be what was causing so much panic among the screaming women.

As he reached the fence, the damage to it let him know it too had been rammed by something large—like a truck, for instance. And at the same instant, he saw the weapons in the men’s hands.

“Mink,” Lucas said, pulling his weapon out.

“I see them. Informing Jazz right now,” Mink said, from behind him.

“Counted about ten. Three are defending the entrance. A few of them don’t look Pashtun,” Dirk observed. “They look…different. Body language is different.”

“I say we go up there and make it three less,” Lucas suggested. The people around him were already parting for them, as if asking them to do something.

“Jazz says fire truck is coming but it’ll take a bit. It’s at nearby village. Careful, though, bro. We don’t want to cause an incident,” Dirk said.

A shriek from behind interrupted them. A woman was running towards the school. “Oh, my daughter! My daughter’s inside!”

There was a loud pop, then an explosion. Everyone, accustomed to sudden explosive devices, immediately jumped for cover. Lucas started running.

“That came from the school,” he yelled over his shoulder. “I think that clarifies an incident is in progress.”

*

Heart in mouth, Kit swerved around, pulling Minah along, with Joanna and Hamidah running behind them. Did the women use gas to cook in here?

“Run! We’ve got to get out of here.”

“But the men in front!”

“There isn’t any other way, Joanna! If they have gas back there—”

They retraced their steps. Hamidah was in hysterics, praying and sobbing. The smoke was already getting thicker and soon they would be choking on it if they didn’t hurry. Kit grimly wondered whether she was going to make it out alive.

*

By the time Lucas reached the entrance, the small explosion had broken up the fight. One man was still valiantly struggling to get passed two others who were brandishing their weapons at him. Tall and tan, he didn’t look Pakistani or local. Why weren’t they firing their weapons?

Perhaps because there were too many women and children cowering behind overturned furniture and carts. Or perhaps they had a specific target. One of the attackers appeared to grow tired of just pushing back and went for his weapon slung over his shoulder. No time to figure things out too much. Lucas jumped into the fray.

Fighting hand-to-hand wasn’t a problem for three SEALs but there was a disadvantage with the other party having the bigger weapons. This wasn’t an ambush, though, and these men weren’t acting as if they were here for battle. In fact, a few of them were just leaning against the truck, smoking cigarettes and watching the whole thing and not taking part in the melee. They seemed to be waiting.

Lucas couldn’t worry about that. An explosion meant a fire and more explosions. He could put two and two together quickly enough. Obviously, they were after the runaway girl from last night, the one whom Vivi was intending to save, and—he winced as a punch connected with his stab wound. He turned and smashed a fist into his opponent’s face.

Everything was happening very fast but in his mind’s eye, he could see everything in slow motion. He caught glimpses of Mink and Dirk fighting back to back, punching and kicking. He knew they were running out of time because sooner or later these guys would change their minds about using their weapons and things would turn violent in a bad way.

Another small explosion rocked the building and the ground beneath their feet roiled like they were on deck in a bad storm, causing all of them to stumble about for a few seconds. Lucas fell against a pillar, his head making contact with something hard. He shook away the pain, looking about.

The whole place was a mess. He could see a pile of burnt paper in the smoldering fire that had first caught their attention. So that was what these fuckers were burning. Doors and planks lay around him, along with guys who had been thrown off their feet. The windows spat out smoke and dust. The men who had been throwing buckets of water through them had fallen onto their backs.

The small pause of inaction lasted only long enough before another set of loud female voices—he recognized English being spoken and Pashto—punctuated the air as well as sounds of some kind of struggle coming from within the building near the blown-out doors. Lucas steadied himself against the pillar.

He squinted his eyes as a group of people, all tangled together—arms, legs, hair—appeared. What the fuck—is that Kit?

Chapter Nine

‡

Lucas gave himself a mental shake. If that wasn’t Kit yelling and kicking at a Pakistani punk over there, he would eat his boot. There seemed to be a tug of war contest going on—a young girl in between Kit and the man.

“Kit!” Someone yelled, running into the fight. It was the man who had been trying to get by the two guarding the entrance.

“Sean! Help, don’t let him take her!”

Everything happened at once. Lucas took a step forward. The punk hanging on to the young girl kicked out at Kit. The men who had been standing by the truck started spraying bullets. Everyone around dived for cover. Panicked screams. Running feet. Confusion everywhere.

Kit!

Uncaring about his safety, Lucas ran towards where the struggle had been, his eyes looking for Kit. She was on her knees, trying to get up, still yelling at the top of her voice.

“Stop those men! Stop! Sean, get off my legs!”

“Stay down, you idiot!” The man holding her down ordered angrily. “They’re shooting at us.”

“Let go! They’re taking Minah away!”

Intent on getting to Kit, Lucas pushed some bodies standing in his way, watching as she got on her feet to run down the steps after the assailants. By the time he closed in on the half-toppled porch, she was fifteen feet away, running hard after the truck which had already begun to rumble off.

“Stop! Stop!”

Her voice, with that edge of desperation, cut at Lucas. “Kit!” he called out.

But she either didn’t hear or she chose to ignore him. His heart dropped into his stomach when the sound of gunfire came from the departing vehicle. His idiot girl kept going, ignoring the splattering dust from the bullets hitting the ground. Apparently, these guys didn’t want to kill anybody here, shooting at the dirt instead of people. But still, stray bullets could ricochet off anything and hit somebody. Kit didn’t seem to care about that.

He had no choice. He had to run after her.

He took off without a backward glance. If Mink and Dirk were close by, they would have his back, taking charge until Jazz and Vivi arrived. He didn’t think there was anyone to rescue back there. Whoever had started the fire—and he had a fair idea about their identities—had whom they were after and were getting out of the camp. Mink and Dirk just needed to get everyone to a safe distance from the school.

Ahead, Kit was yanking open the door to a van and sliding inside. Lucas sped up even more. The few seconds it took for her to turn on the engine gave him just enough time to reach the other side, pull the passenger door open, and jump in. She stepped on the accelerator and turned to him.

“Sean, we have to—” Her eyes rounded at the sight of him, her jaw dropping.

“Cupcake,” Lucas said. He reached out and turned her face toward the windshield. “Keep your eyes on the road or you’ll hit some kid.”

There was a slight pause as she adjusted her speed. “Lucas? What are you doing here?”

“I can ask you the same thing but obviously you’re in fucking disguise as Wonder Woman.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

The truck ahead was heedlessly speeding off, not even honking at anyone in its way. People were jumping to the left and right to avoid being hit. At least that gave their vehicle some leeway to speed up too.

“Wonder Woman?” Kit repeated.

“Yeah, you think you can deflect bullets with your wrist bands? What the fuck were you thinking, running after that truck? Those guys have weapons, or haven’t you noticed?”

The van bounced violently as it ran over a big rut in the road. Lucas put a hand on the dashboard to prevent his head from hitting the windshield.

“I don’t know. They weren’t shooting at me, anyhow. Just at the ground or in the air so people wouldn’t interfere.”

Lucas shook his head. “How do you know that? And what are you doing now?”

Kit gave him a brief glance. “Can’t you tell? I’m chasing after the truck!”

“You have no plan!” Lucas yelled back. “What are you going to do, follow them home?”

In reply, Kit sped up, closing in on the truck ahead. They were out of the camp site and Lucas could see they were heading towards the mountain trails.

“If they’re going into the mountains, they have to stop somewhere for horses,” she told him stubbornly.

They were indeed making their way very quickly up the trails into the mountains.

“And then what? Are you going to ask them politely for the girl and have them nicely hand her over to you?’ Lucas asked.

“I don’t know! I needed to do something! What would you have done? Let them take her?”

“That’s different.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m a man and I have weapons.”

“Yeah, I’m a woman and I have weapons too. Big deal.”

He felt like pulling his hair out. The woman had no concept of danger. She sped up even more as the truck ahead kept going at breakneck speed away from the village camp. Higher and higher they climbed. He had to stop her or they were really going to be out of reach, and they were only two against a truck of angry men. He was about to yell something caustic at her when his attention was diverted by the flap at the back of the truck opening up. A figure appeared. He steadied himself in the speeding vehicle as he adjusted a weapon held high against his body.

“Oh, fuck,” Lucas said quietly.

It was unmistakable what it was. Lucas had carried one numerous times. A lightweight grenade launcher.

“RPG! RPG ahead!” Conditioned by his training, he yelled out. It was reflexive—usually, he had his team or a bunch of men around him who would be expecting shouts alerting them of danger ahead. He realized his mistake instantly, how useless his grim warning was. He was all alone with a civilian female. Kit wouldn’t understand what to do next.

He reached out to grab the steering wheel, but found her shoulder instead. He turned his attention from the guy in the truck. Kit was leaning all the way forward, eyes staring straight ahead. The van’s engine revved as she floored the accelerator.

“HOO-YAHHHhhhh!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Lucas stared at her, then grinned. Love sure had lousy timing. He turned back to face death instead.

They were so close he could see the tribal man’s face broke out into a sneer as he took aim. Another stupid thought whooshed by in his head. Death was coming fast and furious, baby.

Smoke from the grenade leaving the launcher.

The longest second in his life went by.

Then, a horrendous crunch as metal met metal, a high-pitched grind as their speeding vehicle took the hit and their bodies absorbed the shock of the impact. He could hear the tires and brakes squealing as the vehicle swerved out of control. Kit swore a blue streak as she tried to get it back in control. They swayed from one side to the other, and he could have sworn the damn van was on two wheels at one point.

He gritted his teeth as they went airborne, then landed like a pile of junkyard metal back onto the road. The acrid smell of wires burning filled the air. The van careened out of control, finally coming to a grinding halt, facing the direction they’d just come from.

Silence.

Lucas found his hand still gripping Kit’s shoulder. Hers were still clutching the wheel for dear life, her knuckles showing white. They were both panting hard, as if they had been running a marathon. His own heart thumped painfully against his chest and it took an effort to unclench his hand that was holding her so tightly.

He slowly, deliberately, wiped off the bead of sweat trickling down the side of his cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m thinking we didn’t get killed with that hare-brained move.”

The grenade did hit them. He felt it. Which made them sitting here, still in one piece, an impossibility.

“It worked.” She turned. Her big smile would have lightened up a dark night. She put her arms around his neck. “It worked! It worked, it worked, it worked!”

“Stop bouncing the damn vehicle, babe. It’s likely to explode,” Lucas said. Much as he wanted to celebrate, there was still a grenade embedded in the van. “Let’s get out…slowly.”

When they stepped out to the front of the car, Lucas whistled. Half the small grenade was stuck right into the front grill.

“Fuck,” was all he could say.

“It was a gamble,” Kit breathed out. “He was high on a speeding truck and aiming down at us. If I drove the car near enough, the grenade wouldn’t have the necessary rotations in the air to achieve its velocity. It would either bounce off us or…”

She waved at the sight of the grenade sticking out.

“How did you know what to do?” Lucas asked, a little awed at how calm she was.

“My brother is a fucking Airborne Ranger, that’s how,” she said, then broke into a laugh. “Listening to his buddies and him telling war stories paid off!”

Right in the middle of nowhere at the Pakistani-Afghan border, arms crossed, Lucas watched as Kit started to do a victory war dance, as if she’d just made a touch down in a game of football. She was covered in dirt from head to toe. There was a backpack half-hanging off her back. One shoe was gone, so the dance was actually sort of a limpy jiggle.

He was so going to marry this woman some day.

PART THREE

Chapter Ten

‡

He looked yummy in uniform.

What a stupid thing to think about at this moment.

Kit couldn’t help it. He looked so damn good—all big and tough, dirty and savage. That glint in his eyes that always made her imagine doing naughty things to his body. He was larger than live and she wanted to kiss him so badly.

She looked away, trying to gather her wayward thoughts. They had just witnessed a miracle. She shouldn’t tempt fate twice and get distracted by her hormones. Hopefully, there would be time to do all that later. But right now, they had a problem. She looked in the driver’s side window and retrieved her shoe.

“This thing is dead,” she said, as they circled the damaged van. “I don’t have my cell phone anymore. You?”

“Nope. But what I want to know is, how come you’re here? I thought you were back home.”

She still couldn’t believe they had been texting each other in the same country. He must have some sort of secret program that gave a default location because whenever she tried to find out where he was texting from, it always gave the location as Langley. Yeah, right. She had so believed that. But still, she hadn’t suspected he would be so close.

“I told you I was at work,” she told him.

“As a public info officer, starting a new project.”

“Yeah, well, this is the new project. I’m with a team interviewing female victims of the tribal warfare in this area.” She stopped pacing and turned to look up the road. “We have to find a way to go after Minah. She’s only thirteen and is being forced to marry some stupid warlord. Those men are from her tribe. The one who pulled her away from my arms was her brother. She told me when she caught sight of him.”

It had been scary inside the smoke-filled building. She had been a lot more frightened in there than just now, in the truck. The smoke and ensuing panic were disorienting and it didn’t help she was unfamiliar with her surroundings. And then Minah’s relatives had shown up and went for them—well, Minah, really, but she wasn’t going to give her up without a fight. That was a losing battle, though, with her holding on to a mere child while fighting off two big thugs. Joanna helped by smashing one of the guys on the head with a picture from the wall, but Hamidah and Minah were just too frightened to do anything.

“I see. My commander’s wife was going to meet with her to help her.”

Kit turned back in surprise. “What?” Minah never mentioned that. “Nobody said anything. I was under the impression she didn’t have anyone to turn to.”

What was a bunch of SEALs doing here picking up a young village kid, anyway? Minah mentioned a skirmish of some sort that had allowed her to escape. Were Lucas and his team involved?

“Don’t know. We were heading to the comptroller’s office when we smelled the fire and then heard all the commotion. Come on, let’s get off the main road. I don’t trust those guys not to turn their truck around. Let’s walk down the road a bit.”

“I can’t leave this van. It has all my team’s stuff in it. Equipment, maybe even important papers.”

Lucas spread his arms. “We can’t stay out here in the open. I’m in uniform and you’re a lone female. We’re in Taliban-controlled territory.”

He was right, of course. If they were seen together by the wrong people, they would either be shot at or taken hostage. Kit looked at the van, trying to remember all the things she’d left inside.

“Well, at least let me gather stuff like passports and the weapons.”

He cocked his head and gave her a long look. “Weapons. You have guns in there?”

Kit snorted. “Of course. Not big weapons. Just some stuff to defend ourselves with in case things get rough.”

Lucas shook his head. “Cupcake, I don’t think I like you at this job.”

Kit opened the door of the van. “Oh, please, we’re in Pakistan. Or Afghanistan, depending on which inch of dirt you happen to be standing on. They have border wars all the time. Do you want me to walk around without protection?”

“The point is, you shouldn’t be walking around here at all.”

Kit rolled her eyes. “What, you want me to walk around at home in the kitchen?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

She glared at him, her temper rising.

“Next you’d want me to wear a burqa and not show myself in public,” she said. “That’s precisely the male attitude that started this. Women are oppressed all over the world because men want to tell them where and when to walk, and marry.”

All of Minah’s words during the interview came back, refreshing all her previous feelings of anger and helplessness at the young girl’s fate. Damn if she was going to let a man—even a hunk in uniform like Lucas Branson—tell her what to do.

“I don’t need to deal with another male chauvinist pig,” she told him. “Not at this moment.”

*

Male chauvinist pig! What the hell! He was concerned about her safety. She was talking about taking up weapons and fighting fucking war-seasoned tribal lords who wouldn’t think twice about blowing themselves and even their women up just to make a point.

“You’re being unreasonable,” Lucas said. “I’m not telling you about when and where to walk. Just not… here. It’s dangerous here.”

“To everyone!”

“Yes, but to women in particular. A lady can get herself killed running around here!”

She stopped stuffing her backpack. She took a deep breath, then straightened to her full height. She obviously thought that wasn’t enough because she kicked over a small plastic stool that had fallen out of the van and stood up on it. Now they were almost at eye level.

“I’m going to cuss at you in very unladylike terms in a few seconds.”

He grinned. “That’s funny. Are you going to be carrying a stool around with you all the time so you can cuss at me to my face? You look cute when you’re mad.”

She leaned close. “One, you don’t get to call me cute when I’m mad at you. Two, you don’t get to order me around at all. I can fly off to wherever I want and you can’t stop me.”

Lucas frowned down at Kit. The woman just refused to be reasonable. “Oh, yeah?” Putting his hands on her waist, he lifted her off the stool a few inches. “Try flying now, Wonder Woman.”

He’d expected her to kick out at him. Instead, she just lifted a dark brow. “Your big size doesn’t intimidate me at all. I refuse to hurt you in the balls because I have use for them later.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. She had a way of handling him that few did. She made him laugh.

“What am I going to do with you?” He wondered out loud. He still couldn’t believe she was here, right in front of him.

“I have plenty of suggestions, but the most pressing one was to get important stuff out of the van and head downhill so we could get back to the camp.”

She was right, of course. Why did women have a way of making things so complicated? Disappear into the trails, hike down the hill, get somewhere he could make contact with his team. Instead, he was out in broad daylight with a hard-on telling Wonder Woman what to do. Giving the surroundings a quick check, he lifted her up for a quick kiss before reluctantly setting her back on her feet.

“I’m sure my commander and teammates will be along once the fire and the crowd are under control. There can’t be that many dirt roads off the main one. They’ll take the one with the freshest tire marks or witnesses might tell them,” he told her.

She licked her lips and smiled before turning back to the task at hand. He stood outside, keeping guard as well as watching her ass longingly as she crawled around the inside, pulling things out from under the seat pockets. He really, really wanted to just get into the van and close the door.

“Hopefully, Sean would follow them in his vehicle. Then we could get back here to unload the rest of the stuff before they disappear.” She sighed. “I think that’s all I can stuff into the backpack and this bag.”

Lucas took the bag from her. “You purposely chose a pink one,” he accused.

She grinned back mischievously. “Revenge is sweet, Cucumber dearest. I know how to deal with macho military men.”

Lucas shook his head. Cucumber dearest. That had to be a first. She’d better not ever use that in front of the guys. Not that he could say that, or she probably would. He should have remembered, but things happened so fast just now, what with the fire, suddenly having Kit at his side, and not to mention, staring a grenade coming at one’s face. Handling his sister taught him the first no-no thing about women was not to tell them to not do anything. Because they would go ahead and do it just to show you they could.

Damn, but he couldn’t wait to show the guys the photo Kit took of that grenade inside the grill. Holy frog’s hair, but that was close. He couldn’t believe they had both lived to see another day. He glanced at the woman walking by his side. She was something else. Not one sign of stress on that pretty face at all. The guys would never believe what she did. He wished he could kiss her again—not a peck like just now, but a long, satisfying sensual exploration—just to convince himself all this was actually happening.

She looked at him. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re staring at me and grabbing at your side like you have a stitch.” She pointed. “Are you hurt?”

“Huh?” He looked down. Sure enough, he’d unconsciously been pressing his hand to his side. He turned it over. “What the…”

“You’re bleeding!” She exclaimed, coming to a stop. “I can’t tell with all the stains on you. Are you badly injured?”

“I’m fine,” he told her. He frowned at the dampness in his hand. “The stitches must have broken, that’s all.”

His wound ached a little, just a slight cramp. He hadn’t even noticed it until now.

“Stitches? What happened?”

Lucas shrugged. “Just a little cut. Let’s walk on. It’s really no big deal.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “A cut from what? Did one of the tribal men slash you last night when you raided their peace offering ceremony?”

He stopped walking and grabbed her elbow. “How the hell did you know what happened?” he demanded.

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m an investigative reporter. I know these things.”

“You don’t know anything.” He shook her arm. “Not a damn thing gets out in print or media, you hear me?”

She frowned. “I can’t promise that.”

“Kit, I’m serious here. You can’t report that. Stick to your women’s right stuff, but leave our raid out of it.”

“How am I going to do that? It’s part of the story of how she escaped,” she pointed out.

Lucas was at a loss for words. This was serious, but how could he explain to her without revealing more information? He’d never been any good at expressing himself in a diplomatic way.

“You can’t write about it and not expect consequences,” he said.

“Wait a minute. Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not. But I don’t want the raid out as public news. It could jeopardize our other missions. Do you want that to happen?”

There was a pause as they trod on. He glanced over hopefully. She was biting her lower lip, her expression serious.

Finally, she spoke up. “As an army brat, I know how important this is for you, but as a reporter, I can’t just shut up about it, Lucas. Do you understand what I’m saying? It’s my job to investigate and report the facts.” She put up a hand when he tried to interrupt. “Wait, let me finish. It doesn’t mean I’m not on your side. It doesn’t mean I won’t be careful with my reporting, but if what your team did save this girl’s life, I can’t just ignore that.”

“Of course you can,” Lucas said, exasperated. “Just omit it.”

“I could, but even if I do what you ask, my immediate boss might not. He’s going to listen to the audio file of my interview with Minah, you know. And the interpreter was there with me. Do you expect her to keep quiet too? Lucas, it’s not possible.”

He stared ahead. There was a bad feeling expanding in his gut and it wasn’t his stab wound bothering him either.

“Your boss, is it this Sean fella you keep asking about? Is that the guy fighting with the men outside the building?”

“Yes,” Kit replied.

“Well, maybe I can have a talk with him.”

That made her turn her head. “Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not going to have a talk with Sean about what to or not to report!”

“Why not? Man-to-man, maybe he’ll understand.”

Lucas realized his mistake immediately. There was a fire in her eyes that would probably burn him into dust if it were real. Damn him and his big mouth. He’d just committed the second no-no crime.

“Man-to-man?” She repeated, a dangerous undertone in her voice.

He let out a long sigh. “Okay, that came out wrong.” Say it, Cumber, say it. No one but Kit to hear it. “I’m sorry.” He’d been reduced to apologizing for saying what was on his mind. Forcefully, he added. “But I still think you’re…inappropriate…to reveal my team being here. Or any special ops, for that matter.”

She gave him a terse look for a moment, then walked off ahead of him. He studied her stiff shoulders, which started shaking. As if…

“Hey, are you laughing at me?” With a few long strides, he caught up. Oh yes, she was trying not to laugh out loud. “What’s so funny?”

She gave up and chuckles bubbled out of her. “Oh, my God. You’re so funny when you try to be nice and not cuss. Inappropriate,” she mimicked his look of disgust at having to apologize. “You sounded like Miss Clementine!”

Lucas gave her another pained look. “Look at what you’ve done to me. Next I’ll be wearing pearls and chasing you around in a pink…condom.”

She choked, her mirthful glance accusing. “Take that back! You’re just trying to get back into my good graces.”

“Who’s talking like Aunt Clementine now?” he mocked, then affected his aunt’s Southern accent. “Get back into my good graces, you bad, bad boy!”

Lucas breathed a quiet sigh of relief. When one couldn’t win with words, one could always fight back with humor.

*

Kit was glad Lucas changed the subject, as they continued their way downhill at the side of the dusty “road.” It was an easy guess and he’d all but confirmed she’d been correct. She didn’t want to argue with him, not about this, anyway. The thing was, she could see why he would be concerned. Navy SEALs did a lot of secret missions and some of them not koshered. If this was one of them, her reporting it could get his team in trouble.

One problem at a time. Her main thing now was to get back to her team and figure out how to reach Minah. She glanced at Lucas and frowned. He looked and acted okay but his breathing was ragged, as if he was a tad out of breath. There was no way he was tired. She’d seen him throw furniture around like they were toys without even breaking into a sweat. That sheen of perspiration on his face right now—was it from the afternoon heat or something else? She looked down at the stain near his waist. How injured was he?

“They should be looking for us by now,” she said.

He squinted at the distance. “Yeah. Maybe there were some injured people and they’re helping to get them out of the way. There were many children milling around, but they’re pretty hardened, even for kids. Fire and men shooting weapons hardly faze them.”

“That’s sad. Those men should be punished for burning a school. They didn’t even care that there were people inside!”

Lucas grimaced. “You’re lucky they decided not to shoot. Their objective was to get the girl, but you’re right, those guys have very little respect for females in school. They see it as a revolt against their wishes, you know. Those girls and their parents have my respect. The Taliban thugs have been known to throw acid at girls walking home from school as a deterrent.”

“That’s insane!” She shook her head, horrified at a sudden thought. “We have to hurry back. I’m even more worried about Minah now.”

She felt stupid for not having thought ahead. She’d prepared for everything—how to dress and behave, bringing the gifts, practicing some Pashto, researching on the custom of pashtunwali. Why hadn’t she thought about the possibility of the young girl’s relatives suddenly appearing? By the time that realization came, it was too late.

Although Lucas didn’t say anything, she knew he was thinking the same thing, though. How were they going to get to the girl in time?

“I hear a vehicle coming,” Lucas said quietly. The sound of its engine echoed through the mountainous terrain. “Not going to be here for another five or ten minutes, though. There are no footpaths, nowhere to hide.”

“Okay,” Kit replied wrapping her head scarf more securely. She slowed down her gait and let Lucas stay in front of her.

“Been reading up on the customs around here,” he said, approvingly.

“Don’t get used to it,” she warned. Over here, women walked behind the men. Intellectually, she accepted the cultural differences, but it was still tough emotionally. She had seen it with her own eyes how, when they’d first landed in Karachi, the men leered at women who were alone, sometimes walking very closely to make her uncomfortable. They would even peer into any cars that had a lone woman in it, as if they had a right to check her out. Sean had told her they didn’t do that so much in Mingora, the capital of Swat Valley, where they’d been heading, where women were more traditional.

Lucas gave a low chuckle. “Trust me, Cupcake, I’d rather be behind you watching your pretty ass.”

Her first glimpse of women walking around covered from head-to-toe, with the magnificent mountains as a backdrop, was a cultural shock. How on earth did they not trip over, carrying children and shopping bags, and not being able to see? And yet they looked perfectly natural, walking around in the fields or following their male relatives if they were out in town.

“I really hope it’s either your men or my team,” she said, looking at his back.

There was already a slight change in his demeanor. Straighter stance. Bigger presence. So damn male, even while carrying her pink bag.

Chapter Eleven

‡

Shahrukh read the instructions from T’s note, which Vivi Verreau had passed on after the meeting in the US war room. Out of habit, he stroked his chin as he considered his options. The beard had to go soon. The merchants he was meeting at Karakoram wouldn’t be expecting a dirty mountain gun-slinging insurgent-type buyer. For some reason, they expected those men to want the bigger things, not the small sophisticated item in their possession.

He leaned back against the brocade pillow and took a sip of the coffee set on the low table next to him. He savored its strong, pungent taste, took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. A few hours’ sleep would be nice.

“Tired?” A woman’s voice floated from the direction of the door.

Shahrukh opened his eyes. He studied the figure at the entrance. “You look so docile, so traditional, Zerya.” he finally remarked, replying in the same Kurdish dialect she used. “Maybe time can change a person.”

She smiled and she suddenly looked the same, in spite of those world-weary eyes. “That’s funny coming from a man who is looking more like his Kurdish self than the usual suave New York image he’s adopted.” She came closer, the bangles on her wrists and ankles tinkling. “Yet, I know you haven’t changed. Still looking for broken pieces of treasure. Still playing the game, I bet.”

Shahrukh shrugged. He hadn’t been in “The Game” for a few years now. There was no harm in letting Zerya think he was still with the treasure hunting organization. His “new” life with the commandos at Command Center the last few years had been even more secretive than when he was one of those working for The Temple.

“Life is a game,” he said.

Zerya shook her head. “No, it is not. But we forgive you, since you’ve been brought up by frivolous Western ideals. Your adoptive parents have taken your soul away from the Kurd people.”

Shahrukh laughed. He’d heard that line so many times since his teenage years when he was “returned” to his people, it no longer hurt him. He had nothing to prove any more, except maybe to keep a promise to an old woman.

“All Kurds away from Kurdistan have lost a little of their souls,” he agreed in his usual non-committal fashion when dealing with family matters. “As have you. Being among a smattering of Kurds while surrounded by Pathans is hardly your style.”

“Is that the reason for your visit, then, Rukh? Just curious why an old lover is hidden away here?”

Shahrukh leaned back further into soft backrest, contemplating the woman standing so serenely. There was a time he’d been in love with Zerya. She was everything he wasn’t—absolutely sure of her place in the world and intensely dedicated to family and honor. He was the total opposite, feeling out of place among his own people and not as sure about his place in a family who had lost him in a war, and now that they’d found him, demanded things from him he didn’t understand. Growing up with his adoptive parents, he’d wanted brothers and sisters with whom to play and quarrel. Then, fate had given him back his lost family and he’d returned—with the blessings of his parents—and he’d found himself among brothers and sisters with whom he’d no emotional attachment. Zerya, the neighbor’s daughter, had been the only one who understood him. Or, so he’d thought.

She casually sat down, leaning over to refill his cup. “Or maybe,” she continued softly, switching to speaking French-accented English, “you’re, as usual, looking for other people’s treasure instead of your own?”

Shahrukh smiled. “Sharp as ever,” he said, in English. “Always using everything as a weapon. I half-expect you to be carrying a machine gun under that skirt. Tell me, why aren’t you in Paris with the rest of your unit of Peshmerga fighters?”

Warrior blood flowed in generations of Kurds. The Kurd Resistance allowed women to join their ranks and as a people, they’d been at war for centuries, fighting for a land for their people. Peshmerga—those who confront death—was the fighting force beloved by the people and feared by the enemies.

“The CIA has informed us there was danger ahead, that some leaders are targeted for assassination. I was one of the few ordered by my superiors to disappear for a while.” Her voice held a trace of bitterness. “So, here I am, in the middle of nowhere, unable to do much but…entertain.”

“Liar,” Shahrukh softly chided back.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, relaxing further into her seat as she bit into a pomegranate. “This is Afghanistan. As a woman, all I can do is stay inside here and be protected. What else could I be doing?”

“Documenting pieces of a Stealth airplane that is being slowly dismantled, perhaps? Trying to either sell or buy parts in the great bazaar of Karakoram, perhaps?” Shahrukh asked.

She slowly chewed the fruit, licking the juice on her shapely lips. Her almond-shaped eyes held amusement as she searched his for clues. “Ah. The downed Stealth at the border. Like I’ve asked before, why do you keep going after someone else’s treasure and yet never profit from it? All those treasure hunters you work with, aimlessly running around picking things up and exchanging information—do you ever want to use them for yourselves? Or your people?”

And there lay the core of contention between his old lover and him. She was all about their people and fighting for land. It was something noble, a way of life to which their clan was dedicated. He’d not lived up to her dreams of being a clan elder’s son, one who would pick up the mantle of blood and glory for revenge and justice.

“Actually, I have,” Shahrukh said. “I used The Temple’s many treasure quests as a way to look for the lost diamond.”

“Bah. You listened to your grandmother’s silly stories about diamonds and maps instead doing something tangible.” Zerya sighed then propped her head up with a hand. “Quests. Those people call it ‘The Game.’ You joined a bunch of mercenaries who called themselves treasure hunters, looking for antiquities for collectors. Life, death, and honor, Rukh. No game in those three things.”

He couldn’t blame her for sneering at his former job. It wasn’t quite as shallow for him. The Temple had roots with an ancient tradition that went as far back as the Kurds; in fact, their histories were intertwined and that was one of the reasons Shahrukh had joined them. Surely, with all the treasure quests these people were looking for, they would have some clues to help him find his diamond.

But he wasn’t here to explain about history and the Templar Knights to Zerya. Explaining that it was his way of returning honor to his family and clan would be a waste of time. Zerya never believed his grandmother’s stories, anyhow. And if she ever found out he was actually now part of the US government, she would probably see it as a betrayal.

“Treasure is all about value,” he said. “It’s my quest to find what is of value to me, hence my way of life.”

“And Stealth parts are valuable to you, how?” Zerya asked, amused again.

“Not all its parts. I want to know the name of the seller to look for a certain part.”

After Shahrukh had reached the site and given the mortally wounded pilot a password, the dying man had imparted a secret with his last breath. There was a special missile on board, painted with a newly-designed cloaking paint that made it untraceable to radar. That was the weapon he needed to find.

“Is that why you were seen with Yakob?” Her smile was sweet. “Don’t worry. No one but us knows you’re anything but an ordinary Pathan trader.”

Spies. Everywhere. He wondered whether she knew Yakob had been detained and perhaps was now trying to negotiate his freedom by giving back some of the parts he’d stolen or bought. Everything technological taken from the Stealth, big or small, was worth something in the market and everyone wanted to make a profit. Some for revenge. And yes, some for honor.

“Yes,” Shahrukh replied easily. “He told me he was going to buy it at Karakoram. You have the name of the seller and I need it.”

Zerya leaned over and placed a hand on his thigh. Her kohled eyes gleamed with feminine invitation. “And what do you have for me and my freedom fighters?”

*

Lucas scanned the area. They weren’t exactly in the danger zone but it was the Afghan-Pakistan border, where the situation was nebulous. If he was right, they were close to the crossroads, where everyone with vehicles had to travel through, from mountain passes to the cities, and vice-versa. On any given mile, one might bump into Pakistani border troops, Afghan soldiers, tribal warlords who had been de facto rulers in these mountainous regions for centuries, and freedom fighters from various factions, all moving around traveling merchants, refugees, herders and border farmers.

This was, in his opinion, the most eff’ed up place in the world, with a people living on two sides of a border trying to survive. They had been doing it for thousands of years, it seemed. Why not another thousand? He’d been in the military most of his life, so warfare was nothing new, but he did feel for the normal, everyday folks who had to go through their daily lives facing possible bombs from any and every side.

A truck with a cloud of dust behind it came into view. He motioned to Kit to stay off the trail and stick by the thick bushes. If they were Pakistani soldiers, they would leave an American soldier alone. Certain tribal militia would most likely pass by without more than a glance because they had made agreements with some of the US commanders who had visited them. There would also be the assumption he was probably not alone, which was a good thing.

The truck slowed down as they came nearer. The dust made the sunlight hazy as it floated all around them. A figure jumped off the truck and started charging, screaming an almighty war cry.

“Get down!” Lucas shouted back at Kit, hoping she was already hiding somewhere.

If these people had wanted to kill him, they would have shot him already. He crouched lower, waiting for the running man, and slowly straightened up in surprise as the dust settled and the running figure loomed larger…, or actually, smaller. It was a child coming full speed at him and it wasn’t a war cry. It was more like, “Yah! Yah! Yah!”

A woman screamed. Then another figure jumped off the back of the truck.

“Daner! Daner!”

There was an urgent stream of Pashto and some other language Lucas didn’t recognize but since the man was unarmed, he stayed where he was. No sudden moves to panic anyone in the truck.

The kid stopped a few feet away and his big green eyes stared up at him.

“Meri-kan!” He yelled at the top of his voice. “Meri-kan! Meri-kan!”

“Hey, hey, no shooting. Friends! Friends!” The man coming after boy finally reached them and scooped the boy into his arms. He looked at Lucas apologetically and said, in a heavy accent, “Sorry! He’s just boy. Play with soldiers, always stupid. Sorry!”

The boy’s expression was earnest. He made the sign of a gun with his forefinger and thumb. “Bang! Bang! Me-rikan! Me-rikan dead!”

The adult said something sharply at him but the boy was obstinate, repeating his phrase.

“Sorry! We go now!” The man backed away.

Lucas frowned. “Hey, wait. What language did you just speak?”

The man just shook his head, while continuing to back away. “We mean no harm. We are from small tribe and my son, he is too friendly with soldiers.” He paused, looking behind Lucas. “But you better go fast. It’s not safe for you and the woman. Taliban behind us.”

The boy started struggling. “Taliban! Bang! Bang! Me-rikan dead!”

“Wait! Why does he keep saying Me-rikan dead?”

The man shook his head again. “He’s a boy. Nonsense, you know? Go now. We all have to go!” Then he added in Pashto, “God be with you.”

As the man hurried back to the waiting truck, the boy looked over his father’s shoulder and pointed his “gun” at him again. His green eyes were fierce.

“Bang! Bang! Taliban! Forty-mike-mike! Me-rikan dead!” He covered both his ears as if he was hearing something, then shouted back in perfect American English, as if he’d heard the phrase hundreds of times, “You tell Me-rikan, ack-ack, bang bang!”

Lucas stiffened. What the—Those were military slang words! “Hey! Hey!” He yelled.

The man turned his head and spat. His expression was just as fierce as the child. His English came out in staccato notes. “You stay away! Go back to your friends! Taliban coming, you understand? You cannot save my son. Get lost! Bastard!”

The man threw his son into the arms of a waiting woman in the back of the truck and hauled himself up. Seeing the boy starting his struggles afresh, Lucas kept coming after them. The woman was talking in a stream of urgent sentences to the child, her tone full of admonishment. The truck started rumbling off again. The little boy shook his head and looked back at Lucas, his expression obstinate and determined.

“Tell Meri-kan! Ninety-nine! Incoming! Incoming! Boom! Ack-Ack! Alpha Mike Foxtrot! Ack-ack! Seventy-Fiff!”

Unable to catch up, Lucas stood there listening as the sound of the boy’s voice became further and further away, still shouting military terms over and over at him. “Incoming! FPF! Tell Meri-kan! MIA! The Unit! Seventy-Fiff! FPF! FPF! Where in world is Raven? The Unit!”

He cursed out aloud in frustration. He should have been able to catch up with that fucking truck. That kid was trying to tell him something, he was sure of that. He impatiently wiped off the sweat dripping into his eyes with his sleeve. Fucking damn it. He couldn’t even keep up with a fucking—

“Lucas!”

He took deep breath. He’d forgotten Kit was all by herself. Cursing again, he turned around and strode back to her.

“You were supposed to be in hiding,” he said shortly.

“I was but I came out when I saw the kid,” Kit said. She frowned. “Why are you so angry?”

“Because it could have been a kid with a weapon. Or an explosive device. You have to listen to orders, Kit!”

“I was listening to orders. I only came out when I was quite sure he wasn’t going to blow you up.”

Lucas continued shouting, “That man coming over could have started shooting. Anything could have happened. The people in the vehicle—”

“I assessed the situation before I came out from behind the bush,” Kit cut in, very quietly. “And you’re still shouting at me. Stop it. Why the hell are you so angry?”

“Because the kid was trying to tell me something and I can’t…catch…a damn truck.” Lucas leaned forward, putting his hands on his thighs. “I’m fucking out of breath. What the hell—I’m fucking out. Of. Breath.”

“Lucas? Lucas!”

*

Kit ran to Lucas when he fell on his hands and knees. She watched in horror as he started retching.

“Lucas!”

“I’m okay. Turn around. Don’t loo—” The rest of his words were expurgated in a series of horrible retching noises.

She ignored his hand trying to push her away and squatted down beside him. His face had a greenish hue. He thumped a fist against his chest, as if he needed to dislodge something. Then he leaned further forward and vomited.

Ugh. Kit had to look away for a moment. She stood up to take off and unzip her back pack, pulling out a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, she put it in front of his face. He snatched it from her and put his lips on the mouth, sucking down the liquid like a man dying of thirst.

“Slow down! You’ll puke it all out again!” Kit punched the muscular arm to get his attention. “Slow down!”

His head was tilted back, exposing his brown throat, and she noticed for the first time he was perspiring profusely. Even his hair looked damp. Something was definitely wrong.

When he was done with the bottle, it fell to the ground. He leaned forward, putting his hands back on the ground. His eyes were closed. He was still panting, his breathing erratic.

“Lucas?” She squatted down again. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay,” he said again. Then determinedly, he repeated, “I’m okay.”

“Fuck your okay shit, Lucas Branson. You just vomited a pile of yellow blob in front of me. You tell me what’s wrong with you right now or I’ll kick your ass all the way down this mountain.”

Her threat brought a tiny lift to his lips. He took a few deep breaths. “Let’s get off the road first.” He slowly stood up, as if assessing his condition. “Behind that bush again, Kit. I don’t think those people were speeding away from us.”

She nodded. “Come on.” She slipped under his armpit. “You’re swaying, so don’t say you’re okay. Lean on me. Walk!”

“I’m not leaning on you,” he said firmly, unhooking his arm from around her shoulders. “I can walk to that bush. No problem.”

Frustrated, she let him do it. She had had plenty of experience with macho males who refused to admit they needed help. When her father broke his leg, he’d acted exactly the same way. She watched as he carefully made his way to the nearby shrub, his gait stiff and measured.

“Yeah, sure you can, Frankenstein,” she muttered.

She made a face at the puddle of puke on the ground before following Lucas to the small area behind the shrub. With the heat coming on, it was good to be in the shade. She was worried at how much Lucas was perspiring. At this rate, he was going to be dehydrated in no time.

“I want you to drink more water,” she told him, crisply, as she rummaged in her backpack. “Here’s some mouthwash too, if you want to gargle.”

“I don’t need—”

He stopped in mid-sentence when she spun around and glared at him. Eyes narrowing, he took the mouthwash, obediently gargled and spat to one side. When she continued to stare him down, he took the small bottle of water and took a swallow from it.

“You aren’t well. I don’t want to hear your protests. Your face tells it all, mister,” she said, keeping her voice as matter-of-fact as possible. “So, we have to come up with a plan.”

He growled something back under his breath. His face told her it was probably something with some curses and he just didn’t want her to hear the words.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Me scared of Big Baby. We’ll rest five. You tell me what you’re feeling or I won’t budge for ten minutes.”

“I’d rather talk about that boy and that truck. They’re running from someone and we need to prepare for those people coming behind them.”

She nodded. She understood what he was implying but nothing was going to matter if he couldn’t walk straight, much less defend them from any coming danger. “That too. But first things first. Come on, time’s a-wasting.”

He gave a grunt of frustration. “I must have eaten something bad this morning,” he said and gave a shrug. “When you travel as much as I do, the tummy often doesn’t agree with the food.”

Kit frowned. “If you have food poisoning, then you’re going to be weak and dehydrated. You’re also perspiring a lot.”

Lucas impatiently wiped his forehead and studied the wet patch on his sleeve. “Yeah,” he said, sounding surprised. “I’ll keep drinking liquids, okay? But right now, if those people are really being chased by Taliban insurgents, we have trouble ahead. They’re going to see our van and if they stop to investigate and see any signs that we weren’t captured, they might decide to backtrack to look for us.”

“I took everything of value I could think of,” she told him. “Passports, licenses, the tablets, cash, weapons—”

Lucas shook his head. “Weapons! Why are they in the damned bag? We need them where we can easily access them.”

“Relax, babe, they’re in my backpack side pocket. See?” She showed him. “They aren’t powerful toys like yours but they’ll have to do.”

She handed the 9mm to him. He checked it and then gave it back to her. “I’m assuming you know how to use it,” he said.

She nodded. “Pretty good, but only target shooting.”

“Okay, but in a firefight, there is no controlled environment. They’re shooting back at you, so you won’t be thinking calmly about which part of your target to aim. Got that?”

She nodded again. It seemed so strange to be calmly having a conversation about shooting someone. “Are we…really…going to be in a firefight?”

He touched her lower lip with his forefinger and smiled. “In spite of your Wonder Woman status, I’m hoping to avoid that. I have my .45,” he said, “but ammo is low. If there is a firefight, we’re toast. All we can do is be prepared. The first thing is not to walk down the road until they pass us. Damn it, I wish we had some way to get hold of my team.”

“What do you think they’re doing now?” She asked.

“Hawk would take the team down to the camp once he knows there had been an altercation. There are several scenarios. If the fire was serious, Jazz, Mink and Dirk would be helping to put it out until the firefighters show up. They might leave then and come looking for us, which would be good. But there are several forks through the mountain borders. Unless he gets some help from people who saw us, he won’t have a chance guessing and will try to get Hawk to get some air support to see if they can find our vehicle or that other truck.”

“My team will come looking for me too,” Kit said. Sean would be worried about everything in the vehicle and want to retrieve them. “Surely they’ll search one route while your team goes the other.”

“Yeah. And they both might be searching the wrong routes while we’re here trapped with the Pakistani Taliban. It’s crazy in these mountains, babe. Everyone is fighting everyone. Who knows why they’re after that kid and his people, but what that kid was yelling to us was all military slang, like he had a message.”

“Lucas, he’s only a kid. Maybe he picked up the terms at camp and was just running through them because he saw a soldier in uniform.” She’d to admit the kid was scary intense with the delivery, though. “Just a thought.”

“But there was no doubt they were deathly afraid of their pursuers. Who are coming this way.” Lucas slumped against the tree, holding his stomach. “Fucking hell.”

Kit moved towards him, only to be pushed away by a big hand. He turned and disappeared into the thicker side of the bush. She shuddered at the horrible sounds of vomiting, followed by sharp, deep breaths, like a man trying to get air.

“Lucas?”

“Yeah. I’ll be out there in a sec.”

She lifted her head, listening. “I hear rumbling.”

His breathing was quieter. “I hear it too. Stay…where you…are.”

“Are you okay?” Stupid question. He obviously wasn’t and of course he was going to say he was fine.

As predicted, he said, “I’m fine.” He sounded hoarse, as if he was having difficulty moving and talking at the same time. “Stay where…you are. I can see…the road from where I am. We’ll know soon…whether it’s just another vehicle or…something else.”

Kit didn’t like way Lucas was talking so haltingly. She tried to look through the branches but the shrub was very thick. The partial gap she found gave a bird’s eye view of the road in front. The vehicle coming whooshed into view and was gone before she actually saw anything other than the fact that it was one of those huge SUV-like vehicles and there were two men hunched over the top with weapons. As soon as it went by, she made her way carefully into the darkened area Lucas had slipped into. It smelled acrid and she had to pinch her nose to stop from gagging. Then she saw him, slumped against a tree in a weird position. She suddenly realized he was unconscious and hurriedly stumbled towards him.

His face felt fiery. “Lucas!” She lightly swatted him on the cheek. “Lucas!”

No response. He was much too big for her to even attempt to move. She had to get him up and about. Uncapping the bottle of water she had in her hand, she poured it over his face and bent down.

She needed to do something. She couldn’t let her fear for Lucas win over logic. There had to be a way. Closing her eyes, she channeled her father, the drill sergeant, and shouted, “Cucumber! Get on your feet, you lazy bag of bones! Why are you lying on your back? Get up! Get up before I put my boot so far up in your ass we’ll both end up in the hospital! Cucumber! Up on your feet and attention! What fucking kind of SEAL are you, anyway?”

She almost fell on her back when Lucas flipped over and jumped to his feet. He saluted and yelled back, “Standing and ready, Sir! We are standing and ready SEALs, sir!”

She didn’t know what SEAL team he was on, so she just made it up, substituting her father’s Airborne unit, “Hey SEALs from left to right, Hey SEALs, we’re out of sight, we’re trained to fight, we’re trained to kill, if you can’t do it, we damned sure will! Motivation, dedication, graduation, teamwork! Left! Right! Left, left, right!”

To her relief, her on-the-spot cadence worked. Lucas started—she wouldn’t call it marching—putting one leg forward and then, the other. But he was following her lead back out into the open air, where she could at least check on his status.

“Come on, soldier, left, left, left, right, left! I don’t know but I’ve been told! Green grasshopper has a red asshole! One, two,” she sang, still channeling her father, “sound off, three, four, sound off, one-two, three-four!

“Who the hell taught you that?” Lucas asked.

She glanced back at him. His face was pale and his eyes were intently on her feet, as if he needed to follow her footsteps.

“No, don’t answer me,” he continued, “And don’t break out into any fucking Airborne Ranger cadences. I’ll vomit again. Violently.”

“Hey, army brat, you know. My dad’s a drill sergeant and boy, did he know how to get my brothers and me out of bed. Well, not with the bad language, of course. That came from hanging around army folks too much.” She stopped at a spot that was still shady but was a bit higher than the previous one. “You’re going to sit here and drink more liquids while I climb this tree.”

He frowned. “Why? Are you planning to hide us there if those guys decide to backtrack? Because we’re going to need a hiding place. I counted eight of them in that ATV, maybe nine. At least four were carrying machine guns.”

She swallowed and tried not to show her fear. “You saw all that and fainted from fright?” she quipped.

He grinned. Her heart did a slow somersault. He managed to look sexy-hot even though he still seemed ready to fall over any second.

“Smart-ass,” he said. “I was so unfazed by those guys, I decided to take a nap, that’s all. But some loud howling about a boot up my ass woke me up. That kind of threat usually gets a man’s attention, you know.”

Kit felt her face heating up. She did yell out some horrible threats, all courtesy of watching and listening to her brothers beating each other up.

“Did its job,” she said. “I’m climbing up the tree to see where we are. I have a tourist map in my backpack—”

“We aren’t going on a scenic tour, Cupcake,” Lucas cut in. “We need to get out of here.”

She shook her head. “Will you let me finish? I have a map that someone local has marked for me all the places to avoid. I remember he mentioned caves that have been abandoned by the Taliban that were near the camps. If I can see one of the tourist landmarks from up high, I can figure out how close we are to them.”

He stared at her for a moment. “There’s nothing to see up there but more trees and the main road,” he told her.

“I know, but I’ve also done research on the web. Aerial research because I enjoyed the view of the Swat Valley rivers. I bet, if I can figure out where the river is, I’ll recognize a few things I’ve looked at from those aerial views. Then I can locate them on the tourist map and we can…oh, will you just let me do this? It’s going to take them half an hour to reach our van and if they stop to search…we have just enough time. Okay?”

He sighed. “Go ahead. I’ll just lean against this tree and hold it up.”

She grinned at him. Freaking macho man wouldn’t admit it, but she wasn’t going to let him know she suspected he was having a hard time standing on his feet right now. “Don’t…take a nap while I’m up there. That’s an order, sailor,” she said.

She pulled off her skirt. His dark eyes narrowed at sight of the pair of tight boxers underneath.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “Those legs have my full attention.”

Chapter Twelve

‡

SNAFU. Situation all fucked up. Lucas looked at the pair of luscious legs climbing above him. Long, silky legs. Toned and tanned. Attached to a pair of pink boxer thingies that clung to hips and other female parts. SNAFU turning rapidly into FUBAR.

He banged his head against the tree. What the hell was he thinking, letting her climb up a tree, her ass all but naked, in the middle of the freaking Afghan-Pakistan disputed war zone? He must be out of his fucking mind.

He looked up again and caught a glimpse of Kit’s ass as she wriggled through a tight spot. He closed his eyes for a second. He was letting that woman get away with every hare-brained idea without even putting up a fight.

And his food poisoning excuse was only half the problem. He knew full well something was fucking up his system and bad food wasn’t the cause. He rubbed the area where he’d been stabbed the night before. It was radiating heat while the rest of his body felt icy cold.

His whole head hurt as if something was eating his brains out. He tapped his forehead against the tree trunk again. He could not afford to lose focus. He couldn’t believe he fainted. Fucking hell. He was leaning against the damn tree for support. He straightened up stiffly, using one hand to steady himself.

Kit was right. They needed to get to some sort of shelter before he lost all ability to protect her. Then what? He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

If those fuckers stopped to check the van—and they would because of the grenade—it wouldn’t take them long to make some educated guesses about who had been in the vehicle. He’d glanced around while helping Kit pack. There were tons of clues they’d left behind. English-language newspapers. Music CDs. Articles of clothing. Kit said she’d gathered most of the important stuff in her bag, but still, in their hurry, they could have left something.

He nudged the small pink suitcase with the toe of his boot. He frowned, trying to remember whether Kit climbed the tree with her backpack on her. She did, didn’t she? Why didn’t she leave it down here with him? Granted, it wasn’t a huge sack, but it would certainly impede her movement. And if she slipped…. He looked around for it. Nowhere in sight. Damn it.

Cucumber, you’ve got to start thinking ahead or you’re going to get both your sorry ass and hers killed.

He was the experienced one here. She was counting on him to get them back to that camp. He had to stay vigilant, have eyes on the back of his head. Kit had never been in this country, where everything could blow up at any second, where there were so many factions fighting one could end up making the fatal mistake of helping the wrong side. Like that truck being chased. Who was that kid and why did he yell out those odd messages that most American troopers would understand? Was he just crazy from this sickness or did he hear some kind of warning in that boy’s voice? And why the hell was the Taliban chasing after them if the kid was just mouthing nonsense?

He needed to try to decipher the words and see if they made sense. This fucking pounding in his head wasn’t helping. He slammed the side of his fist against the tree trunk in frustration. Think hard, you jackass. Anticipate ten steps ahead. Act towards goal.

One thing was for sure. Kit and he couldn’t walk down the main road. He was sure his team was out looking for them already so it was just a matter of staying safe until they saw Jazz’s truck. Or maybe they’d radioed in for choppers, especially if they’d taken the wrong route and couldn’t find them. Of course, they wouldn’t know the two of them were now on foot. Their first assumption would be that he and Kit were still going up into the mountains.

He frowned. No, surely his team would also know, sooner or later those assholes would shoot at the van to stop them from following. Maybe they’d expected him to turn around and so they were waiting down there. Except they knew Kit was the one who had been driving.

His gut tightened from nausea. Unless he stopped feeling like this, it was best to get them out of the main road and just sit and wait. He would just be a liability to Kit.

Kit. His little Drill Sergeant Cupcake, leading a pussy asswipe who couldn’t stop puking his guts out because of some damn infection.

Now she wanted to head to the caves. He knew about them, the abandoned ones by enemy insurgents after a crushing defeat by Pakistani and US forces. They were put under surveillance by the local government for a while but that was two years ago. He knew the local government troops weren’t that vigilant, so that area wouldn’t be one hundred percent secure. But there could be some kind of way of communication there, if they were nearby. That was the problem—he had no idea how far away they were. It wasn’t a bad idea, except Kit thought she could find them. By climbing up a tree. In her boxer panties.

He groaned out loud.

This was so, so fucked up.

*

Shahrukh studied the cloudless sky. The mountain view was spectacular today and from this privately-hewn ledge, he could see for miles. Some of Zerya’s Kurd guards had recognized him and given him a lot of freedom to roam here. To them, he was still one of the chosen sons of the famous elder who had won all those glorious battles for them. His father was descended from royal blood and had expected Shahrukh to carry on, even though, as a youth, he’d never even known what life outside the United States was when he came to live with his people.

Shahrukh nodded at the guard and waved him away. The other man disappeared into the background without a word. He gave a small reluctant smile at how quickly his wishes were obeyed among relative strangers. Just because they saw him as something akin to their leader. Just because his father’s legendary exploits gave them the impression his lost son would have the same qualities and the same inclinations. Even though he’d been gone for a few years, the oral tradition of passing down history and bloodlines made it impossible to be invisible among his own tribe. They knew of him and would treat him accordingly.

He took out his small satellite phone, turning the switch from cell to satellite signal. In these mountainous regions, where quick communication was impossible, it was probably one of his most valuable assets. His was issued by his agency, specially built to look inconspicuous, with an ability to scramble signals as well as other special capabilities. Here, in the hidden caves near the beautiful Swat Valley, using the device to talk about secret operations, special weapons and government agents made him feel like he was Batman. Amusement bloomed and the corner of his lips reluctantly lifted. Prince Batman. He’d have to request that as his code name when he returned to Center. So much more cool-sounding than boring Number Four.

“T,” he said, without any greeting.

“I’ve been waiting for your call.” The feminine voice at the other end came in clearly, velvety and sultry, like its owner.

“How did you know I would call you and not Number Nine?” he asked.

“It’s my job to anticipate everyone’s moves,” she replied. “And you call because you need him for a task but needed confirmation from me about his state of mind.”

As usual, the woman was perceptive. Everyone at Center had been watching his unit’s main man very closely. After all, the infamous Ice Man was showing emotion.

“I heard there was a violent fight between him and One. First, who won? Second, can Nine handle any assignments?”

Number One was Alex Diamond. If Jed couldn’t perform, Shahrukh would report to him instead of Number Nine, even though what he needed done needed the latter’s expert touch. But Diamond had just returned from his self-imposed sabbatical and although he liked the man, Shahrukh didn’t know him that well.

“I wouldn’t call it a violent fight, darling, but yes, your concern is valid. As far as I can tell, Jed is handling everything normally.” There was a slight pause. “Perhaps a job taking him away from here would be good. He’s stalking the Medic floor like a wild animal and that only makes the staff nervous.”

Jed stalking. Jed in love. The very notion made Shahrukh smile again. Jed in love and stalking the Medic Center for updates on his lover were definitely interesting developments he wished he could witness for himself.

“Have you ever heard of the parable of the old lone wolf who found his life mate?” he asked, amused.

There was a tinkle of laughter. “No, but I hope it has a happy ending and the mate doesn’t die because if that happens, said lone wolf is going to be a dangerous lone wolf.”

“Oh, indeed,” Shahrukh agreed. He glanced down at the scenery below and added, “Is he dangerous?”

“Darling, he always is. Now, if you mean whether he’s in control of his emotional well-being to cancel someone for you, yes, I believe you should get him out of here for a while. I have too many stalking men around here at Center and not enough whips.”

T was the current operations chief for the mission. No doubt she had her hands full dealing with Jed and Alex Diamond at each other’s throats, what with Helen injured in Medic. He hoped she would make it. But these matters weren’t his top priority right now. His mind turned to his own operation at hand.

“I located the dealer in Karakoram. I had to exchange a favor,” he told her. Several, actually, but those were personal ones. “I need Jed to meet me to cancel a target.”

There was a small pause. “We don’t actually lend our operatives out for target cancellation, Number Four,” T finally said, her voice a little cooler. “There are certain rules by which we must abide. Center is not a Dial-An-Assassin service.”

He wanted to point out the experiments the nine commandos went through were called the Virus Project for a reason. They were all assassins functioning from within a cell, structured to destroy elements one by one. But it wasn’t in his nature to argue about semantics.

“Just get Jed here and he can decide,” he said, in his most reasonable voice. “I’m sure in the end, there’ll be a connection to some government sanctioned mission one way or another.”

There was another soft laugh at the other end. “You know that kind of manipulation doesn’t work with me, Rukh.”

His senses rang out a warning at the sound of his name. T was about to make her mental sniper move.

“I’ll give Jed your message but I think you need to take care of some business first,” she said.

Here it comes. “What is it?”

“Vivi called and told me the girl you helped has been caught by her family. I need you to use your negotiation skills to find out where they have her. Now, a family blood feud isn’t going to be settled by money. I’m sure your Kurd familial connection has some weapons to be a little bit more persuasive, Rukh.”

Bullseye. T knew about the Kurd weapons. Shahrukh breathed out a quiet sigh. “The Kurdish battles have nothing to do with this war, T,” he said.

“Perhaps not directly, but you’re asking me to make a government connection, remember? We can’t interfere in a local blood feud now that the SEAL team has achieved their objective, which was capturing the Kob. But if your…contacts…would release the weapons they’ve taken from the caves when the insurgents ran off, now all targeted parties would listen and negotiate and we have a—how did you word it—sanctioned government mission.”

She had the exact reasonable tone he’d been using earlier. He could only admire the intelligence behind the tactic, how she struck a deal without his actually agreeing to it. NOPAIN, her GEM organization called this technique. Nonverbal Persuasion and Innovative Negotiation. Not having been long with Center, he had yet to master this art of war. One day, perhaps.

“And what will my contacts and their group get in return?”

“Shahrukh, they’re female Peshmergas. Our GEM operative in France has access to certain information and people, and thus can help find out who is targeting the top female leaders. I’m sure your contacts will be interested.”

He might as well admit defeat before he gave away even more. “I should just leave the wolves in your care,” Shahrukh remarked. “They could fight to the death while you claim a bloodless victory.”

T’s soft laughter made him smile in spite of the enormous responsibility she’d put on his shoulders. He supposed he deserved it. After all, he’d asked for a life to be ended.

“Rukh,” she said, “I must find some fun in my situation any way I can. Jed will get hold of you. Talk to you soon.”

*

“They’re tracking us. I can feel it.”

Kit glanced behind them. They’d been moving steadily down the mountain but now that they were off the main trail, their speed was impeded by foliage, rocks and detours.

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it in my guts.”

“You puked them all out already,” Kit quipped, “so you must be wrong.”

He was perspiring so much, she was worried he wouldn’t make it. He hadn’t talked a lot, trekking without giving away his obvious discomfort, only stopping to heave that awful noise, which he tried to muffle with a wad of clothing. He needed to sit down and rest, but his paranoia of being followed pushed them along.

“Come on, lift them feet, left, left, left, right, left,” Kit urged. “We’re not far from that back entrance, according to my map.”

“If your map is right,” Lucas muttered.

Kit hoped so too. Where else could they go? The main road was unsafe in his condition. The river was too far away and, according to him, had numerous tribal route lookouts. At least the caves were either going to be guarded by some government militia or abandoned, so it would be an ideal place for Lucas to sit in while she continued down to get help. She’d purposely kept that last part of her plan out of their discussion, of course. He would never agree to it and she didn’t want to argue while they were heading there. He would see soon enough that she was right.

The local guide she’d talked to had told her he’d once worked as an interpreter for the US army, going out with different outfits to communicate with tribal chiefs and villagers. Of course, when he recognized the division her brother was in, they’d quickly become friends and he was more open, telling her about different adventures. Sean had listened in with interest and later told her she was an asset to her crew because of her way of getting people to talk and do things for her.

She checked on Lucas again, who continued to be strangely obedient. When they were moving furniture at Miss Clementine’s, he was the one directing them all and refusing to budge when the girls insisted on moving some heavier items themselves. This quiet and submissive side, going left when she said left, even allowing her to climb the tree when he’d have done it if he were himself, was how she knew the big guy was suffering.

He caught her gaze and his mouth lifted at one corner. “Don’t worry, Cupcake. I’m keeping guard from the rear.”

His voice was hoarse. She frowned, inspecting him closer.

“We’re almost there,” she told him.

They walked around a large rock formation with shrubs and suddenly there was a clearing. She stopped short and stared. The “cave” was nothing more than a hole on the side of the mountain, covered with some dense shrubs.

“It’s manmade,” Lucas told her quietly. “It’s the back end of the main caves. An escape tunnel, dug in a maze inside, I bet. I’ve heard about it from other units. Who told you about this again?”

Kit looked at the large hole again. She didn’t mind the dark or even the idea of rodents, but crawling through tight spaces underneath the earth wasn’t quite how she envisioned a cave.

“Some guide who used to work with the units,” she replied. “He didn’t say anything about it being just a big hole. I mean, a cave is…you know…” She opened her arms wide, and added, with a shudder, “He told me the insurgents hid in these places, hiding for days. How is that possible?”

“They probably lead to bigger caverns inside. An escape tunnel like this has advantages.” Lucas rubbed his chin. “This being the back end, it would eventually lead to the front. We can crawl our way inside and see if we can find our way out on the other side. That way we can do what those who escaped did, skipping the main route when it wasn’t safe for them.”

“But if our side’s looking for us, they wouldn’t know we’re in there,” Kit said, kicking at an exposed root. “I mean, they’re probably heading for the front side.”

“How do you know that?” Lucas asked. He dragged a branch that was in the way of the tunnel’s mouth, then swore softly, holding his side.

Kit knew he was getting weaker. He was pulling at the limb with both hands. “Let’s rest a bit, then…”

“No. We’re going inside ASAP. But first you tell me how you know they’re looking for us at the caves.” He narrowed his eyes. “You did something else up that tree.”

Kit nodded. “I spray-painted my scarf.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“You mentioned they would be sending out the choppers sooner or later and that little kid shouting all those acronyms gave me an idea. I spray-painted it with BOLOCAVE. I figure Mink would know it means ‘be on look out for cave’ and it’s just logical to assume I’d mean nearby caves, which would be these here, except I meant the other side.” Kit sighed. “I hate small dark spaces. Why are you looking at me like that?”

He was giving her that dark intense look that always made her heart do crazy somersaults. If he didn’t look so ill, she would have certainly considered doing naughty things to that sexy body.

“Because you’re the most awesome of camping companions. Spray paint.” He gave her a tired grin. “What the hell do you have in that backpack anyway?”

“Emergency stuff.” Wait, what did he call her? “Did you say I was awesome?”

“Yeah. The most awesomest of cupcakes,” he answered softly. “I wish we were somewhere else and I could do the stuff I always do to sweet cupcakes.”

Her heart bounced from the pit of her stomach, did three flips, and landed somewhere in her loins. Or at least, it felt that way. “In that case we’d better get going and be rescued,” she said. She pulled out a flash light from her back pack. “Tada! That will at least make it less scary crawling in there. But I’m going to be holding on to your pant leg all the way in, if you don’t mind.”

Lucas picked up the bag. “A fine sight Mink’s going to see at the other side. A puking SEAL with a pink bag dragging a claustrophobic woman hanging on to his leg.”

*

The last time Lucas felt this weak was when he contracted influenza in college that progressed into pneumonia, which had landed him in the hospital. It was so bad, he’d withdrawn for the rest of the semester. He remembered having no strength to perform the simplest tasks.

Right now, he had no feeling in his legs and it took all his concentration to go down on all fours to start crawling into the hole in the ground. From the look on Kit’s face, she was worried about him as well as afraid at the idea of going inside the ground. For her sake, he must stay strong and effective. He had to stay prepared. His SEAL training had given him the ability to draw on his reserves and conceal this wretched nausea and pain from her as much as possible.

He was so proud of her quick thinking and bravery he wanted to kiss her, but he doubted she would want that from someone with a bad case of puke breath, even though he’d dutifully used her mouthwash. But damn, the woman turned him on even when he was almost out of man juice.

He could feel her hold on his ankle tightening as they went in deeper, leaving the sunlight behind them. It was very dark and he waited till his eyes adjusted before continuing. The small flashlight illuminated enough that he could see the hole widening ahead. There were probably roomier caverns beyond that.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Her breathing was erratic. “No,” she said, in a very tight tone of voice. Her grip was a vice. “I’m trying not to scream.”

“I’m right here,” he said.

“Okay.”

They went further for another minute.

“Lucas, I can’t breathe. I’m going to…to….”

He was too big to turn around to comfort her. They couldn’t afford her losing it right now. He must somehow distract her before her fear took a stranglehold.

“Kit! Listen to me. Are you listening?”

“Y…yes…”

“Remember you were leading the way and singing cadences?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m going to sing and you’ll repeat my lines after me, okay? Do you hear me, Cupcake?” He changed his tone of voice to more matter-of-fact.

“O…kay,” she said, her voice a little higher than usual.

“Right. I’m moving forward, right leg, then left, and I’ll sing a line. I expect you to repeat. You copy that?”

“Yes.” Her breathing was shallow but she sounded more in control.

As they made a slow progress toward the widened area, Lucas started to sing, waiting for her to follow before continuing: To his relief, after starting in a breathless, squeaky tone, her voice became stronger with each line. His own crackly voice came out like someone who had been smoking six packs a day.

Chant-singing his favorite song made him feel stronger. He repeated the refrain:

“We wanna be tough like Mad Dog Madison!

How tough is Mad Dog Madison?

He eats lightning and craps thunder

We wanna eat lightning and crap thunder

Just like Mad Dog Madison!”

The tunnel opened up unexpectedly into an area high enough to sit up straight. He turned around, and in spite of the sharp pain to his side, he pulled his woman to him. She fell into his arms, hugging him tightly, and began to sob quietly.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Lucas said gently, stroking her hair. “See down below? There are sunlight streaks, which mean they dug air holes. It’s just dark, honey. You can breathe. See?”

“I’m sorr…sorry,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “Stupid. I was okay until I star…started to pan…nic.”

“You’re very brave. It’s just a mental thing, crawling into a hole.”

A minute went by. Her breathing became more normal. “Sorry,” she apologized again. “Thanks for making me sing with you. It took my mind off being locked up in pitch darkness.”

“Shhhhh.”

He massaged her neck and stroked her back. It felt good to finally be holding her this close again. His body was very happy right now, enjoying her soft weight against his, absorbing the female heat. In spite of the sun, he’d been cold all day.

Maybe a few minutes of rest would give his tired body a reprieve. It was all mental. He just needed to convince himself he was fine and could run another ten miles, drag a boulder, make love to a hot woman for hours—He leaned back against the cool rock wall.

“Lucas?”

“Hmm.”

“Your hand is up my skirt.”

“I know.”

“You’re a sick man.”

“That’s the only reason why I’m not kissing you,” he told her.

“I didn’t mean that kind of sick,” she said. “I’m not scared any more.”

He didn’t stop caressing her. “Do you want me to stop?”

“In a minute or so. But not yet,” she murmured. “A little higher. Right. There.”

He chuckled softly. His Cupcake must be feeling better. “My hand is dirty from all the stuff we’ve been doing. Geezus, baby, your panties are wet through already.”

Somebody was playing a joke on him. He finally had her where he wanted and he was not in any condition to touch her. He made a little growl of frustration and she giggled.

“Bad timing,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He touched the soft flesh between her thigh and panty line. “I want to get in there so…badly.”

She moaned softly as he ran a fingernail across the wet material. Damn. It was irresistible. He explored and when she stiffened, he knew he connected with the right spot. He started to rub a little harder.

“Lucas…” she said, her body pushing against his hand. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, amused. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Feeling lightheaded, he closed his eyes but his fingers determinedly continued pleasuring her through the flimsy material. He didn’t care how he felt, he just wanted to hear her moan. Like that. Softly, in his ear. It turned him on, like sexy music. He would gladly die just to make her come in his arms.

She was grinding hard against his hand now and he obligingly stroked her harder. Her hand flirted with the front of his pants but there was no way she was going to get in there, not in this position. Instead she covered the bulge that was trying desperately to push a hole through his clothes and squeezed lightly. He grunted but didn’t relent from his ministration. Her panties were totally wet now, soaking his hand. He slid his other hand down into the back of her panties and cupped that delicious ass, so silky smooth and round. He snuck one finger a little lower, allowing him a tiny, flitting touch. That was just enough to push her over. She shook in his arms as she came.

“You’re crazy and I love you,” she said into his ear.

He smiled lazily. Now he got the lady where he wanted. In love with him. Next step was to get her to marry him. If he survived whatever was eating up his system.

He pushed it out of his mind. Couldn’t do anything about that right now. “You’re crazier. You attacked a grenade launcher,” he reminded her.

“I think I want to attack this one now,” she said.

That naughty woman’s hand somehow slipped inside his pants over his very aroused, very unprotected warhead. At least one major part of him didn’t think he was that sick. He laughed at himself silently.

“Lucas, you’re not wearing underwear!”

“I’m not a fucking Airborne Ranger. SEALs don’t need no fucking underwear,” he told her, lifting her by the waist.

He could run ten miles. He could carry a big boulder. He could make love for hours to a hot woman. Only one way to find out if he was up to the task. Yup. Standing and ready, sir!

Chapter Thirteen

‡

Shahrukh didn’t interrupt the woman pacing back and forth in front of him. Zerya wasn’t yet calm enough for a discussion. She swerved around to face him suddenly, her eyes glittering with emotion, her lips pursed in anger.

“You ask too much,” she said. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

“Am I talking to one of the top officers of the Peshmerga warriors?” Shahrukh countered. “Or am I talking to Zerya?”

Her chin went up. “Are you challenging my position? I asked a favor, yes, but it wasn’t official. Obviously you’re trying to wiggle out of it by changing our agreement. I gave you the names you wanted and you said you’d take care of the traitor.”

He shook his head. “No, I said I’d find a name to do your task but he comes with his own price.” He lowered his voice. “Perhaps you were being more Zerya at that moment because we were negotiating in bed.”

He had no illusions about that part of their relationship at all. Zerya was a Peshmerga warrior first, in or out of bed, but they had also been lovers a long time ago, before she gave her life for a cause, before words and actions became mere items of negotiations.

Her expression softened for an instant before resuming the tough mask. “Rukh, you made it sound like he was going to cost me money. Not going into another battle for him or giving up our stockpile of weapons!”

“You know I deal with, as you call them, treasure hunters. They like…assets,” he said. “Some of your weapons, that’s all, and a group of men for me to take with me for a small mission. Once that’s done, my man will take care of your problem.”

Or he would, if Jed didn’t agree. It didn’t matter now.

“It’ll expose us, Rukh. I was ordered here for a reason.”

“I understand. I’ll protect our identity. Yes, you lose the weapons, but in exchange, you’ll be rid of a pest and can go back to France where you’ll be free to do battle. You aren’t the type to hide and covertly move things around, Zerya. You’ll wither and die.”

He spoke the truth. Zerya couldn’t last in this country, where everywhere she went, she’d had to hide her true self, playing a submissive role to those she was in command of, just because she was a woman. She had always been a woman of action and a willful one at that. A mountain lioness could not be a lamb for long.

“This young girl you want to use my weapons for…are you in love with her?”

Shahrukh shook his head. “It’s a favor.” He thought of how brave the child was and how well she took his escape advice. “Yet, she is a young girl whose life I’d like to spare. I have to get to her quickly before she’s out of reach, and this is the fastest way to get them to talk to me. Look at it this way, a life for a life, and perhaps a future warrior woman is saved.”

Zerya stared down at the papers on a nearby desk, an obstinate expression on her face. He could tell she was trying to find another way. Those weapons, left by insurgents who had run off during the border skirmishes, had been a boon. Transporting them into the hands of other Peshmerga agents outside the country, however, had been one of her major obstacles and having to do so in small numbers at a time had really affected her mission. Shahrukh was offering her another way, but the price was half her stockpile. This was his way of getting what T had referred to as the “government connection” in this whole damn affair. A whole shitload of weapons would do, all right.

He’d done many such negotiations when he was a Temple operative. Such missions were called H-A-X, Hostage/Arms Exchange. Like a game of chess, every one of his moves must be calculated. Sacrifice was sometimes necessary.

“An innocent life is irreplaceable, Zerya,” he continued to persuade softly. “That cache of weaponry is cheap in comparison.”

And still she hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of his proposal. Shahrukh didn’t hurry her, even though time was of the essence, because hers was an equally heavy responsibility too. If exposed, her small army of fighters here would be in even more danger, surrounded by insurgent groups left and right. The Kurds, as a people, had suffered ethnic cleansing and genocide for generations; they had no loyalty left but to their own cause, which was self-survival and statehood. Although his being brought up in the States alienated him from the cultural aspects, these were his people and he understood their fight for recognition and dignity. Those years back with his father and clan had given him both a sense of loss and reunion at the same time, a relationship that pulled at his soul yet simultaneously pushed away his heart.

She finally looked up, revealing the intense storm clashing inside her through her large dark eyes “Those are our people’s weapons. I’m going to call Paris and talk it over with them. Give me twenty-four hours.”

His heart sank. Twenty four hours. A life time. That little girl’s life meant so little to this woman. It was time to use his trump card for the H-A-X. Just as he was about to speak, a series of quick knocks at the door interrupted them.

“Enter,” Zerya said in their native dialect.

A man strode in. “Our cameras detected movement, Lieutenant. Two interlopers tripped our wires while moving in the forested area toward our tunnels. Two men with Taliban clothing and they appeared to be looking for something. What do you advise?”

“Can we get to them before they reach the tunnel?” Zerya asked.

“No, we’re too far away and someone had removed the shrub covering from it without our noticing it.”

“What?” Zerya angrily walked past Shahrukh, snatching the printed photo from the man’s hand. “How can that be?”

“The battery in the main camera must have gotten wet. It rained hard last week.”

“You expect to use that excuse when the council asks you?”

“No, Lieutenant. I’ll take full responsibility.”

She slapped the papers back into his hand. “That’s good but now we have a big problem. If they find our tunnel, they can call their people and we’ll be exposed.” She bit her lower lip, then added, “There is no choice. We’ll have to head down there and destroy our cache. If we can’t have it, no one can.”

That he couldn’t allow to happen. He wasn’t going to let a young life be destroyed because of ego. Once upon a time he might have hesitated about using ruthlessness to fight ruthlessness, but that was before a few years with his unit. He was now a COS Commando, trained to infiltrate and kill from within.

Time to use his trump card. “Zerya,” Shahrukh cut in. When she turned to him, he said, “As my father’s heir and as head of the clan, I’m ordering you to relinquish your command of your weapons. This is a clan order.”

Then he invoked the order using the royal incantation passed to him by his father. The silence in the room thickened with tension as the other two occupants stared at him.

“You’ll do as I say in this matter, Lieutenant Zerya.”

“You dare—”

“It’s done,” he told her gently. He turned to the man who immediately saluted him and then giving him the clan show of respect to their elders; he bent slight from the waist, a clench fist against his chest. “Get the necessary contingent ready. And do not blow up the weapons without my say so.”

“Yes, Excellency.”

*

Kit shone her flash light around the cavern they had entered. Now that they were no longer in a confined space, she felt much better. The little shaft of sunlight from the air holes here and there gave the darkness a strange shadowy glow.

“There’s a maze of them in here. Are they really all manmade?” She took out her small camera and took a few pictures. She might be able to use this in the article. “You’re lucky I have yarn in my backpack. We’d be totally lost in here, with no way out!”

“Too bad that backpack doesn’t have a pair of ruby red shoes, Dorothy,” Lucas said, shining his downward and ahead. “Watch out here. Don’t trip.”

She stuck a tongue out at the broad back in front of her. He had to bend his head so as not to hit the jagged cave roof. Other than pausing to look around, though, he appeared to be all right. “How do you walk so surefooted, anyway?”

“What, Ranger brother didn’t teach you to walk in the dark? Awww.”

“You sound so much better,” she mused. His voice was still strangely hoarse, though, and he wasn’t walking very fast. Maybe the coolness in the cave was helping. “Almost back to your old self.”

“Maybe you have the magic touch, Cupcake.” He sounded amused. “Sexual magic.”

“I bet all cavemen used that line,” she said, mockingly lowering her voice into a Cumber-growl. “Hey, baby, want to cure my sickness? Let’s get it on.”

He chuckled softly. Then he halted so suddenly, she ran smack into his back. She suddenly found herself flattened against the cave wall behind Lucas’ back. He’d moved so quickly she hadn’t even managed a squeak of surprise.

“Shh,” he said, turning off his flash light and peering around the wall. “If there’s anyone there, they’d have heard us but just to be sure….”

“Why do you think there’s anyone around?” She whispered.

“I can see piles of stuff all over in the next cave. Nobody there, though.”

She squeezed from behind him and peered around the wall too. At first, all she saw were glints reflecting back from different piles. “What do you think they are?”

Lucas clicked his light on again and swept it to the odd-looking mounds. She felt his whole body tense up.

“Weapons,” he said. “Hella lotsa weapons.”

Her eyes widened at the sight of the number of weaponry. “I thought this place was taken up by our side and searched.”

“From what I know, there are networks of tunnels leading to different caverns. They might have missed a few. But damn, this cave holds a hell of a lot they missed.”

He cautiously stepped into the cave, waving the flashlight here and there. “Just making sure it’s okay to go further, babe. Hang on. Follow me very carefully, okay?”

They made their way to the first grouping.

“Here, shine down on them so I have better lighting,” Lucas continued. He went on one knee, held his slim flashlight between his teeth and picked one of the weapons up. He examined it for a minute. Then he looked at another. And another. “Shit.”

“What?” She asked, looking over his shoulder.

“They’re all well-maintained, newly oiled down. The last border skirmish I read about was a few years ago.”

“I remember reading that in my research,” Kit said. “It was a huge deal with lots of news articles. They found the insurgents’ hiding place and all their weapons. Supposedly. That guide I told you about said he saw quite a bit carted off by the government, so why are there some here? Another group hiding out here?”

“Possibly,” Lucas said, his voice grim.

“But the guide said these caves were regularly monitored by the authorities now.”

Lucas sighed. “Yeah, well. Let’s just say the government here doesn’t monitor as closely as we would like.” He stood up. “We have to find the tunnel out of this cave and get to one that’s connected to the main ones your guide and all the others know about. If we’re lucky and Hawk sent out choppers and saw your message, they’d be heading there and looking for us.”

“All right. So, how do we look for this tunnel?” She stared around her dubiously. “It looks impossible.”

“Let’s start by checking out the sunlight shafts. It’s got to be close where they can have air. Someone or some ones come by here often enough to maintain these weapons so let’s look for any piles of cleaning cloths and bottles, that sort of thing.”

“How about a desk?” Kit asked, pointing to a far off corner. “They might need one to use for cleaning. I bet there will be lots of oils and cleaners near there, if not on it.”

He tweaked her hair. “Very good, Watson.”

She grinned. “Pfft. I’m Holmes, you’re Watson,” she declared.

She was right. As they got closer, their light revealed a working space, with a shelf to the right, stacked with bottles and pails. She quickly took several photos while Lucas checked everything out.

“I’m hoping there is an entry near here. If they’re using tunnels like the one we were in, logically, they would enter from wherever, light this lamp hanging here on the wall so they could see, wait, I feel some kind of breeze…voila!” He pushed aside a crate, revealing a small entry way big enough to crawl through.

Kit crouched down and felt the air coming from the hole. “Shall we crawl through and—”

A crack sounded behind them. She turned and caught a quick glimpse of shadows and reflection of metal from their flashlights before Lucas pushed her out of the way. A single gunshot exploded, its echo reverberating over and over. She laid on the floor in shock for an instant, then rolled away, looking for a place to hide.

Lucas! Where was Lucas? Was he shot?

She pulled out her gun. She heard a familiar grunt to her right and turned her head, searching for his silhouette. The shafts of sunlight looked like little strobes of dust as shadowy figures fought. Somehow Lucas had managed to run to the other end of the small cavern, disarm one of their assailants and was now engaging in hand-to-hand combat with him on the floor. The other man lifted his big weapon and butted the side of Lucas’ head with it. She had no time to scream a warning. Without thinking, she aimed and fired. Dropping his firearm, Lucas’ attacker yelled in pain, then fell over.

She clapped a hand over her mouth at what she’d done. The man was in the shadows, rolling around in pain. She shivered and stared at her hand holding her weapon. She’d fired one in self-defense before, when she’d surprised a burglar at her apartment in college. At that time, she was being attacked and she’d gone for her firearm after being chased into her bedroom. The burglar had run off at her first shot and was subsequently caught by the neighbors. This was different and it was frightening how she’d just shot a man as a target.

She took a deep breath. Stay calm. It wasn’t the time to be hysterical about it. Her father had told her when he’d taught her how to shoot—“you’re in or you’re out when you use this. Don’t hesitate.” She stood up and charged towards Lucas, who was still wrestling on the floor. He was at the bottom, after falling over from the hit in the head. She kicked away the offending machine gun lying nearby.

“Hoo-yahhh!” She yelled and launched on top of the enemy pounding on her man.

She pulled at the man’s hair and punched him in the throat. Scratched. Gouged. He was howling and turning around to grab her fists.

Someone pulled her off from behind. She struggled valiantly but didn’t have the strength. The person grabbed her arms and pulled them back. She yelped in pain and twisted back and forth, trying to free herself.

Lucas must have heard her because he let out a roar of anger and somehow stood up, with his attacker still attached on him, and half-leapt-half-stumbled onto her assailant. Then, yet another pair of arms grabbed her. Only then was she aware of many voices surrounding them. How many of them were there? She’d only seen two when Lucas was fighting.

She watched Lucas tackle one man and another jumped in from behind. Punches flew. Lucas threw one body across the room. She screamed his name and struggled as yet another shadowy figure appeared and another, till she couldn’t see him under so many bodies.

Someone yelled something out in Arabic. Kit blinked from the sudden light. There were men everywhere, some of whom were holding lanterns. Except for a howling man still rolling on the floor and another being held at gun point, these were in military uniform. To her surprise, a woman appeared, in camouflage shirt and pants. She studied Kit for a second then turned toward the men on the floor.

“Five of you against one man?” She asked, in perfect English. “We must be getting soft.”

In the brighter light, Kit could only see Lucas’ leg and she anxiously waited as the male bodies on top moved out of the way, leaving one man pointing a weapon straight at Lucas. She whimpered at the sight of blood on his face but dared not move or say anything, in case it’d set him off.

He appeared calm, though. He slowly turned his head.

“Kit.” His voice came out in a hoarse growl.

“Here. I’m okay,” she hastily assured him.

The woman stepped forward. “It’s okay, soldier, I’m Lieutenant Zeravich from the 210th Division. I apologize to have mistaken you as the enemies. We’re here to transport you.” She turned to her men. “Take the two prisoners out of here.”

Kit frowned as the men obeyed her orders. Although all of them were in fatigues, Arab head gear covered much of their faces. She was quite sure not all of them were Americans. After putting hoods over the two who had attacked them first, they tossed the injured man she’d shot—she breathed a sigh of relief he was alive—over one man’s shoulder and led the other out, using the trail she and Lucas earlier had been on. While that was happening, someone else searched Lucas for weapons, pulling out his pockets and patting down his pants. That didn’t seem friendly protocol either.

After a minute of silence, Lucas confirmed her suspicions. “There isn’t a fucking 210th Division. Who are you?” he asked, still lying on the ground.

“Again, I apologize,” the woman said. “When I saw you were Americans, I needed to give our prisoners the impression we’re on the same side. A woman in charge ought to convince them, don’t you think?”

Her smile had a glimmer of amusement.

“I repeat, who the hell are you?” Lucas asked.

“Not your business, soldier. Let’s just say for now we’re the owners of these weapons.”

Kit hoped they weren’t going to search her too. She didn’t want to lose her camera and important things. The man holding her prisoner seemed satisfied with just twisting her arms behind her back, though.

“Lieutenant, I found this card on him. Read the name on it.” One of the rough-looking men who had been searching Lucas’ pockets held up a scrap of paper.

The woman took it from him. After a moment, she said, “Why am I not surprised?” She turned towards one of the waiting men. “Tell him he can come in.”

The underling went off to one side and Kit watched him disappear behind what looked like a protruding piece of rock. How many tunnels were there in this place?

“Except for the bump on his head, he is not injured, Lieutenant,” the searcher said.

“Let him sit up. I suggest you obey orders, soldier. No sudden lunges. Remember, we also have your woman friend here as a prisoner.” The Lieutenant turned at the sound of someone re-entering the cavern from the rocky protrusion. Kit fancied she heard a thread of anger in her voice as she greeted the man who appeared. “Excellency, I believe this man has your card, so perhaps you know him.”

Kit looked up and her eyes widened. Whoever the new guy was, she could tell he was in charge. He was tall, like Lucas, with fierce-looking dark eyes, assessing the situation with one sweeping glance. A machine gun slung carelessly over one shoulder. And was that…yikes…a sword? A big-ass shiny out-of-medieval-times sword with a curved blade. In the muted lighting from the lanterns, he looked imposing and dangerous.

A small smile appeared on his lips when he saw Lucas on the floor. The light caught the gleam of an earring as he swung his gaze toward her. She swallowed, meeting his eyes. Then again wished she had her camera handy. It would so cool to have his photo on her tablet wallpaper.

“I know Lucas Branson here. Who are you?” He asked, his American accent making her blink in surprise.

“Kit,” she replied. Did Lucas really know him? “Who are you?”

His smile widened. “An American woman in a Pakistani dress running around in a cave with a weapon. I was watching you on the camera. You should be a GEM operative.” He nodded to the man behind her. “Release her.”

“A what?” Kit asked.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, turning to Lucas, who was still watching him, he said, “Why are you here, Branson, and where is your team? I notice you’re not on your feet. May I ask if your wound is bothering you?”

Kit inhaled. Lucas was indeed holding his side again. How badly was that cut he said he had? She frowned. A new worry gnawed at her. Had he been lying and it wasn’t food poisoning that was making him sick like that?

*

Lucas shook his head. This whole damn day had been like riding on a rollercoaster. He was all for action, but everything usually made sense, especially about which group belonged to which side. And now, here was the same fucking dude from last night. Then he was just some middle-man with connections. Now, he was all dressed up like he was some warlord with his own tribe. What the hell?

He examined him up and down. He looked cleaned-up and certainly better groomed than his own current self. AK-47 over one shoulder. Was that a freaking broad sword? Did people even use that anymore? Rounds of ammo criss-crossed his chest. There were knives sheathed in his belt and the sides of his boots. What, did the dude think he was fucking Rambo?

He was beyond pissed-off at the moment. He couldn’t get over how weak he was. Yesterday, he would have handled a dozen of these assholes without hesitation. Right now, he was out of breath and his side was burning a hole into his stomach. He refused to be sick in front of these guys, whoever they were.

“Give me the 411 on what’s happening, Shahrukh. I’m not talking until I know who these fu…people are,” he demanded.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be asking questions, soldier!” the woman who had clued him in on everything being a ruse told him sharply.

“He’s a SEAL, Lieutenant Zerya. They prefer to be called sailor,” Shahrukh corrected mildly. “Branson, they’re my people. You’re in the middle of an operation I’m running.”

“Weapons? In insurgent-infested caves? Your story stinks.”

“Does it matter? All I need is to call Hawk to confirm. But first, you have to tell me why you’re here.”

Lucas shook his head again. No way was he going to be specific. “Long story, but it has to do with the girl at that wedding thing we…attended. Do you remember?”

Shahrukh cocked his head, a frown forming. “Minah. Yes.”

“You know Minah?” Kit asked, leaning forward eagerly. “Do you know how to find her? She is—”

“A friend,” Lucas interrupted. “We’re trying to get hold of her. But first, we must contact Hawk and Jazz. We need to tell them our location.”

“No need,” Shahrukh said, pressing a finger in his ear, listening. Lucas realized he must be wearing a wire. “Ah. Choppers very close by. Lieutenant Zeravich, please leave me four men and follow my earlier orders. Lucas, you and Miss…Kit can come with me. It seems they somehow have tracked you down. How?”

“Kit sent them a message,” Lucas said. “We found the back way instead of the front entrance and were making our way there when we found your little cache here. What do you intend to do with it? Because I’ll be reporting it to my commander.”

The snooty woman, Lieutenant Zeravich, made a rude noise and said something in a language Lucas didn’t recognize. Shahrukh replied likewise. The woman answered and turned her back on him rudely. Shahrukh just nodded to the men and they started heading toward the different piles on the floor.

Lucas tried to stand up and barely made it without stumbling back on his knee. “You better have a good explanation where you’re taking them, Shahrukh,” he warned.

Kit came running over. He hoped she wouldn’t bring up the fact that he wasn’t one hundred percent, although he had a feeling the other man had his suspicions.

“I’m okay,” he assured her.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She turned to Shahrukh. “Excuse me, did you say you know Minah? And that people are here to rescue us?” She glanced at Lucas again. “I really, really need to get hold of Minah. Please.”

“I know,” Shahrukh said. His voice was gentle. “I’ll get to her soon, I hope.”

Lucas looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just get your commander’s attention first, shall we? There isn’t time to lose.” He started toward the bigger opening, the one with rock protrusion. “Coming, or not?”

“Yeah,” Lucas replied.

What choice did he have? He needed to get to Hawk or Jazz, but he was certain by the time he conveyed to them about the weapons in this particular cavern, they would be gone. He glanced back at the men efficiently picking them up. There was a shitload of them. If he hurried, maybe his team could stop them. He took a step. And another. Fucking hell. His legs felt like he had 100lb weights tied to his ankles.

He looked down at Kit. Those pretty blue eyes showed so much worry, he wanted to kiss her and tell her he was okay. Instead, he just smiled and gave her a thumbs up. “No cadences, please,” he teased, hoping his smile didn’t look like a grimace as pain gnawed one side of him.

He was a SEAL. He wasn’t going to show he was in trouble. Dig in. Walk straight. Deep breath. Power on. He’d noticed if he shouted and let adrenalin take over, the nausea and pain would become worse. If he kept his head straight, he should be A-OK until he was back at base.

“So I’m gathering the yarn was your idea of not getting lost?”

“Yes. But I was getting worried, with so many tunnels, whether I’d have enough!”

“Then I arrived just in time.”

“Yeah! Those two other men…I shot one of them because he hit Lucas in the head. What’s your name again? And what exactly do you do?”

“You’re a good shot. I’m just a friend of Lucas and his team, that’s all.”

“You must give an interview to me and my team.”

“And what exactly do you do, Kit?”

Kit and Shahrukh seemed to be getting along like a house on fire. Lucas didn’t like it at all. Not one bit.

As they continued, he could hear the thump-thump-thump outside. Ahead, a small crack of light. He concentrated on it, watching it getting bigger and bigger as he struggled to walk without stumbling. His commander, Hawk McMillan, was already off the chopper heading towards the mouth of the cave when they slipped out of the cool darkness. Lucas looked around. Thank God. Familiar faces.

Lucas snapped a salute. Hawk returned one and put a hand up to halt the situation report he’d formed.

“One moment, Cumber,” he said, then turned to Shahrukh. “You’re damn quick. T contacted me while I was in the air regarding your situation and your current operation. Tell me you didn’t know about these weapons beforehand before I give you my help.”

Lucas blinked. Damn, he didn’t even have to tell anything and those COS commandos and GEM operatives had already taken over.

“I didn’t know about these weapons,” Shahrukh said.

Hawk’s gaze was laser-direct and a bit skeptical. “You have thirty minutes, tops, before the authorities of either side of these borders reach here.”

“We have enough to convince you and your counterparts to buy me time to set things up.” Shahrukh gazed up the mountain trail. “You have to release the weapons to me for now.”

“His men are already removing them, Sir!” Lucas volunteered the information.

“Shahrukh, it’s against protocol to move weapons around and then recollect them at another checkpoint,” Hawk said. “Those weapons are important to show how much the insurgents around here are preparing for battle.”

“I’m sure Mrs. Zeringue and Miss Hutchens would disagree about the amount of importance weighed against a girl’s life,” Shahrukh said calmly. “It is a girl’s life we’re trying to save, is it not? And in the end, you’ll get your weapons, with a little fire power, to show the other side you mean business. If we succeed, then you’ll have weapons and a recorded battle to show for it. What good is a find if you’re without a group to which to point a finger in your many reports?”

Lucas noted Shahrukh’s demeanor never changed through his argument. He sounded like a logic professor, giving the details to reach a projected conclusion. The dude was a great strategist but how good was he in a real war, with many variations to a scenario? He was sure his commander was considering all the possibilities of things going wrong now as he too glanced up the mountainside.

“And what are we going to do for distraction?” He asked.

“You’ll need to move your copters toward the target. I’ll call and let you know where and when. I have the advantage of being on horseback and getting to the area to…set things up. We also have two men, one injured. You may want to keep them for questioning, although they’ll tell you they didn’t have any knowledge of the weapons. But they’re local Taliban fighters and it’d be a good idea to keep them behind bars for a while. Your people here,” Shahrukh continued, pointing at Lucas and Kit, with a quick smile at her, “surprised them. Kit shot at one of them.”

Hawk turned to Kit. “My co-commander talked to your media crew. Sean Cortez is burning a hole through the floor back on base. I’m not sure whether it’s out of worry for you or because I forbade him to come along on our Chinook.” His flash of amusement suggested the latter. He added, “Jazz found your van. When he searched around it, he found newspaper articles about a certain bin Yakob. We have quite a number of questions for Mr. Cortez.”

Lucas caught his commander’s gaze and gave him a shrug, indicating he had no idea. But this Cortez fellow must trying to sniff out details other than the plight of Pashtun women. He remembered Kit saying something about Minah’s description of a raid during her interview. If Cortez listened to that recording and investigate further, he’d realize the Cob had recently been secretly captured by the US army. He needed to let Hawk know about the interview back at the school.

“Oh, Sean! I totally forgot about him and the others.” Kit turned to Lucas. “You can go back and let him know I’m okay, right? You can take my backpack and the suitcase to him. Tell him the passports and important stuff are in there.”

Lucas frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re coming with me. You can give them to him yourself. I’ve never met the guy.”

Kit gave him an impatient wave and approached Shahrukh. “Mr. Shahrukh, sir, can I ride horseback with you to wherever it is you’re planning to get Minah? I’m so worried about her and besides, the firsthand information will really help the news piece I told you about. We could conduct the interview afterwards too.”

She spoke so earnestly, no one could deny that sweet plea in her voice.

Oh no. Oh hell, no to the nth. Not. Nein. No way.

Lucas took a swift step forward, swept a surprised Kit over one shoulder, glared at Shahrukh, and practically ran toward the chopper. He ignored Kit’s “Hey!” and quick protests. Oh no. She wasn’t going to go anywhere with that commando without him around. He could see she was all smitten with that stupid broad sword and Rambo attitude.

He reached the Chinook and Mink was there. Depositing her in his friend’s arms, he climbed up quickly, pulled her back into his arms, then turned sideways and gagged for a full minute.

“You look like shit,” Mink remarked.

“Long day, dude,” Lucas managed in between gasps of air and coughing.

He kept a firm hold on a very mad Cupcake, then grinned. In his hurry, he’d forgotten to ask permission from his commander to leave. The woman was all sorts of trouble.

He returned her to Mink.

“Don’t let her go. That’s an order,” he said, then jumped off the copter again, gathering all his reserves to make it back to Hawk to stand in attention. His commander and Shahrukh were looking at him like he was an idiot. “Pardon me, sir! That woman is under the illusion she’s an Airborne Ranger, sir!”

“An Airborne Ranger?” Hawk asked, amused, looking back at the Chinook. “She’s cussing you out like she’s one, Cumber.”

“I’d admit she’s been tough. She single-handedly stopped a grenade exploding by accelerating the speed of our vehicle. Said she heard about it from her brother, an Airborne Ranger.”

“Is that what happened? Jazz sent me a picture of that baby stuck in the grill. Damn lucky. Or maybe not, if Miss Kit had planned it.”

“She’s amazing,” Lucas told him proudly, then straightened again, adding firmly, “But she isn’t going anywhere with Shahrukh.”

“I was going to say no,” Shahrukh said, humor in his voice. “But when you lauded her warrior abilities like that, I might need her quick thinking and reckless bravery. After all, I did see her coming to your rescue back there, against those two insurgents.”

“Two insurgents,” Hawk repeated. His gaze turned sharp. “Branson, you shouldn’t have any trouble with two hostiles. What’s the matter?”

Lucas stared straight ahead. He wasn’t going to admit any weaknesses in front of the other man. “Nothing, sir. I was fighting in the dark and got slammed in the head with a weapon. Kit just joined in. She needn’t have. She’s under my charge and I’m determined to return her in one piece back to her friends.”

Hawk studied him for a second. “You’re full of it, Cumber,” he said, softly. “I’ll take her back myself. At ease. Let go. I’ll take care of her, I promise.”

Lucas finally met his commander’s eyes. He’d have argued if he could, but the ground was rocking under his feet as if there was an earthquake in the area. He just wanted to make sure Kit was going to be safe. Hawk would make sure of that.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. He let out a sigh.

Without another word, he pitched forward, watching detachedly as the ground rose up to meet him. Damn, there was something else. But it was too late. Everything went black.

*

Kit couldn’t believe it. Did he just caveman her? She glared after his broad back as he walked to his commander and Shahrukh. She twisted and turned but Mink refused to loosen his hold. She called him a few choice names.

“Sorry, Kit. I’m on orders to keep you with me,” he told her, flashing his trademark grin at her.

“Lucas! I’m so going to…dammit, let me go! Mink, I’m going to hurt you so…Lucas!” Kit let out a small gasp when she saw Lucas falling forward and both his commander and Mr. Shahrukh hurrying forward to catch him. “Lucas! Mink, you have to let me go. Lucas needs help!”

“Damn. What’s going on?” Mink put her down on her feet. “Come on.”

They both ran toward the group, followed closely by Dirk. When she got to him, Lucas was out cold. Mr. Shahrukh was checking his pulse.

“Lucas!” She knelt down beside him. “He told me he had food poisoning. He’s been coughing and vomiting the last few hours. He passed out once already.”

“Food poisoning?” Hawk asked.

She nodded. “Some bad breakfast, he said. I kept giving him water to stay hydrated but I could tell he wasn’t feeling well. He panted a lot and was too quiet when we were hiking through the brush. I knew something was wrong because he even let me lead the way a time or two, until he realized it, then he would take the lead again.”

“Couldn’t be breakfast,” Mink said. “Dirk and I ate the same stuff and we’re fine.”

“Fine! I hate that word! That’s what he would say every time I asked him. ‘I’m fine, don’t worry,’ ‘It’s just some bad food, I’m fine, Cupcake,’” she mimicked Lucas’ deep voice in disgust. “I knew he was lying. Knew it.”

“He just wanted to get you to safety,” Hawk said. He glanced at Mr. Shahrukh. “What you said last night about his wound. He went through tests but the results didn’t show anything.”

“Herbal poisoning is hard to detect,” Shahrukh murmured, kneeling down beside Kit.

Wound? Poison? Kit grabbed Shahrukh’s sleeve. “What are you talking about? He told me he had a little cut.” She frowned, remembering. “He kept grabbing his side. And it was bleeding again for a while but he assured me it was because the stitches broke.”

She started pulling up Lucas’ shirt. Shahrukh helped her, parting the material. The sight of the “cut” made her gag.

There was an open wound, like sliced raw meat, at the side of Lucas’ body, just on the inside of his hips. A huge bruise surrounded the crater, which was oozing blackish looking liquid. There were nasty white blisters forming like little islands inside the bloody mess. It didn’t look like a regular wound at all.

“Fuck,” Mink said quietly. “It was just a mere puncture wound when I sewed it. Let me get the first-aid kit.”

As he ran back to the helicopter, Kit pulled off her backpack and rummaged through it. She found what she was looking for—rubbing alcohol and some wads of cotton. Shahrukh took the bottle from her and undoing the cap, he poured it liberally on the wound.

“The poison worked its way into his system, first infesting the wound and then infecting his blood,” he said, carefully examining the open wound, his fingers prodding the flesh here and there. “That’s why he was vomiting. Without the blade that cut him, I won’t know what poisoned him.”

Mink came back with a box. Dirk was with him and gave Kit a grin of acknowledgment. He leaned over to look and shook his head in disbelief.

“I saw him with it this morning,” he said. “Check his side pockets. He might have stuck it in one of them,”

“Iodine?” Mink asked, pulling out medication and a needle. “Would an anti-fungal shot help?”

“Mr. Shahrukh’s men patted him down and took all his weapons,” Kit said. “I don’t remember a blade.”

“Try his ankles,” Mink suggested. “Cumber would have made sure to have a hidden weapon.”

Hawk, who was kneeling at the far end of Lucas, rolled up the pant leg. A handle of a small knife in a soft leather holster stuck out from the top of his sock. Pulling it out, he handed it to Shahrukh.

“It wasn’t all embedded into him or anything,” Dirk supplied the information. “It went through his belt. That’s why he wasn’t too worried.”

Shahrukh examined the knife and sniffed at where the handle and blade met. He nodded. “I can smell it. Sweet clover and castor oil. Give him that anti-fungal injection, it can’t hurt, but you’ll need my antidote. I have a salve but that’s just external. In his condition, you’ll need to wake him up and feed him the antidote every hour for the next six. I can’t be there with him, so I’m leaving that one of your responsibilities.” He gave them all a swift encompassing glance. “If you leave him in the care of the medics on base while all of you go off on mission, there is no guarantee they’ll follow my instructions because it’s not hospital medication.”

“We don’t have time to go back to base,” Hawk said. “Our plan was to meet you up there with the help of our river crew. No Chinook. They’ll just shoot us down. We’ll strike when you give the signal.”

“But what about Lucas?” Kit asked. She was beginning to feel afraid for him.

“We’ll have to take a chance and leave him in the Chinook if he doesn’t wake up.”

“I hope you’re aware that castor oil is one of the ingredients in ricin,” Shahrukh said, “He needs my antidote hourly or he’ll go into kidney failure. And he needs to be awake to drink it.”

Kit could feel her anger reaching boiling point. The big lug. The macho idiot. She took out her camera and snapped photos of the horrible looking wound.

“What’s that for?” Mink asked.

“Hey, he’s got to see this so he won’t ever lie to me again when I ask him whether he’s all right. I’ll just whip this pic out and show him the last time he thought he was fine!” Kit told him. Also, it would be part of her news item about warriors in the Pakistan-Afghanistan border. She glared down at Lucas, put her face right next to his and busted out her Sergeant voice. Hands on hip, she yelled out, “Cu-Cum-Ber! You lazy sod of a Navy SEAL, if you don’t get up and take these meds like a man, I’ll start singing Airborne Ranger cadences at your funeral and make you squirm in that fucking casket. Come on! Get. Up! I wanna be an Airborne Ranger!”

She didn’t pay attention to the stunned men around her as she coaxed her guy to wake up. If he didn’t, he was going to die.

What was that song he’d been singing to her? “We wanna be tough like Mad Dog Madison! How tough is Mad Dog Madison? Come on, Cucumber! How tough is Mad Dog Madison?”

A groan escaped Lucas’ lips. His eyes still shut, he slowly turned and started to get on his knees.

“He eats lightning and craps thunder,” he mumbled.

“I. Can’t. Hear. You!” Kit shouted. “What do we want to do?”

Lucas stood up straight and stood at attention. His eyes were half-opened. “We wanna eat lightning and crap thunder!” His voice came out in a growl. Then his eyes snapped wide open and he sang, “Just like Mad Dog Madison!”

Another moment of stunned silence.

“Hawk, sir, we have to hire her,” Dirk said in admiration. “She can wake and command an army of Zombie Cumbers.”

Chapter Fourteen

‡

Shahrukh nudged his horse forward. The last glow of daylight played an eerie dusty trail across the sky. It was a photogenic shot, the kind one would see in a magazine, with the majestic backdrop of craggy mountains and lush green valleys. A world the people here claimed as the real location of the Garden of Eden.

He enjoyed the magnificent sight for a moment. It wouldn’t be long before such peace was shattered by another world, one created by humans, as they’d done for thousands of years over this piece of land. A world where the ancient warfare of horse and swords met with the high-tech wizardry of machine gun and satellite communications.

The tribal wars here were mostly ignored by the authorities from both sides. The prevailing wisdom was a “let them kill each other” attitude. It was also a strange combination of clan loyalty since both Afghanistan and Pakistan had Pashtun and other ethnic heritage and they understood the long history of the tribal traditions.

Pashtunwali, the code of honor by which all Pashtuns lived. Shahrukh turned his animal around and waited for his men bringing the prisoner. Well, prisoner was too strong a word. Perhaps, temporary guest, since he was given no choice for this meeting.

“I’m honored to have a chance to talk to one of the elder of the jirga,” he told the older man in perfect Pashto. His kind had mingled in these parts long enough to be assimilated into the culture. “I apologize in the manner you were brought here but this is an urgent matter that will affect the lives of those in your clan and I have no wish to start a war with yours.”

The man had his poker face on, merely lifting his white brows slightly. “I’m not a guest. I’m here without being asked. How is that a good start to anything?”

Shahrukh bowed his head slightly. Being a guest in pashtunwali had many meanings. “My apologies again. I don’t have time on my side. Your clan has an ongoing badal with Yakob’s people. He has had a few of your own family murdered. You have also done likewise to some of his clan. Yet, you’ve ordered a young girl from your side named Minah to be given to Yakob, as swara, to end the badal. I know she ran away and one of your relatives caught and returned her to Yakob’s side. Yakob isn’t with them any more. As you are aware, he has been kidnapped by the Americans.”

“So many kidnappings. What is it to you?”

“His clan isn’t happy about this and suspects a betrayal on your side about his presence at the ceremonial home the other night. They plan to continue the badal, even though they now have Minah.” Shahrukh pointed in the direction of the other man’s tribal stronghold. “Even as I speak, they are planning to burn down some of your homes.”

The other many visibly stiffened. “I see. And why are you telling me this?”

“Yakob has used me and my good will. After procuring weapons from me, he betrayed me. I intend to exact my own revenge for the dishonor he’s caused. I need you to facilitate the delivery of these weapons as part of your exchange to end the badal between your people and his clan. Once my men have entered, you may leave and not look back. Your badal ends there. As a further show of my gratitude of your helping me restore my honor, I’ll pay for the restoration of your burnt homes and will send a year’s worth of food for your immediate family.”

The last bit was important. Food was a much needed item in many of the mountain villages.

If the old elder agreed, once his side had delivered the weapons, the US troops would have a reason to attack that stronghold. It would be his chance to enter into the fray and find Minah. He already knew where she was probably kept. A swara marriage, the bride given away as a replacement, meant she was no higher than a yard animal. Her new family would not be treating her well. The poor girl would be kept in the barn, just as her marriage had been conducted outside one. In pashtunwali, one member must bear all the honor and the other must bear all the shame. It didn’t matter if the latter was an innocent party.

The elder looked up thoughtfully into the sky. “I agree,” he finally said. “If you see my granddaughter, kill her. If she runs back home, she would start another round of violence. I have told her this but she’s obstinate, that one.”

Shahrukh thought of the young girl who had so bravely trusted his advice that night not so long ago. The desperation in her eyes had made his heart hurt. She was too young to understand her ties with her family were gone, yet already old enough to know if she didn’t take a chance then, she’d be forever shackled as an animal.

“Consider her dead,” he grimly told the elder.

*

Lucas swallowed down the vile potion Kit handed him. He didn’t need to say a word. Her eyes told him if he didn’t do exactly that, she would think of a way to make him comply. Besides, his team was on her side. Somehow, within the short span of meeting them, she’d gained their admiration.

“Don’t look so smug,” he told her. “They’re just in awe of the goodies in your backpack.”

It was true. Inside the Chinook, they’d gathered around while she pulled out some of her loot. Camera, guns, knives, spray paint, small medical kit, mini tablet laptop, utensils, shoelaces, yarn, notebook, mini recorder, chocolate, energy bars, deodorant, socks…the list went on. Lucas had explained how she’d used the yarn and Mink had told him they’d seen her spray paint on the scarf waving like a flag over the top of the tree. She had also added a large frog, with four legs spread out, so there was no mistaking it was a message to “froggers.” That was what finally persuaded them to take the risk and go to the nearest caves.

“Damn clever, Kit,” Mink said, with a smile.

“Isn’t she?” Lucas said, proudly.

They met the rest of the team waiting with the gunboat crew. From the quick briefing given by Hawk, he understood there was no time to waste. They needed to speed off to the best possible vantage point, where Amber had mapped out from this morning, for this second mission. It was now obvious to those who had questioned about her being on their boat now recognized her importance. Through her CIA channels, she’d pinpointed which tribal lookout point belonged to the Taliban and which one would look the other way if necessary because of age old enmity and power struggles. Tonight, they needed one of those lookout points because of the large collection of men and weapons being confiscated from Point B to Point A.

Everyone was ready. He could feel the bite of anticipation in the air as last minute orders were taken care of and satellite calls came and went, updating Hawk and all the men on what was happening in the mountains as well as at the US Central Command, where Admiral Madison was getting all the generals and the upper echelons of the political stage on one page.

He hadn’t really trusted the undercover operative, Shahrukh, much when they’d first met, but the man sure knew how to get things done quickly. The immense responsibility he was currently carrying was sobering. He had to satisfy all political fronts, enabling a US deployment of power by timing a weapons delivery so they could be captured. The cache would in turn placate the ruling Afghan and Pakistan parties, especially since they were from a Taliban controlled area.

Also, Shahrukh had to prevent any misunderstood flare-up between yet another local warlord and the US presence. Lucas wasn’t sure how he managed to get someone to deliver the weapons without arousing suspicions, but from listening to his co-commanders communicate with him and each other, he’d achieved that objective. Lastly, and perhaps the most important of all, he was in charge of bringing back the missing girl. If things did come in threes, Lucas wished the man every success in that last endeavor. The latter was putting his life at risk, personally going in to make a rescue of someone he didn’t even know.

Knowing from experience how dangerous such an act was, Lucas’ respect for the commando had grown exponentially. Also, he owed him his kidney, if not his life. He hadn’t had a chance to properly thank him.

Right now he felt like he’d had gone a few rounds with a champion boxer. He’d already caught hell from both his commanders and his woman. He supposed he should have shown more concern about that cut, especially when Shahrukh had warned him, but it was such a small nick. How was he supposed to know it would get all infected like some kind of alien bug had crawled into his body? He’d examined it and secretly admitted it looked horrific. The salve Shahrukh had placed on it had helped ease the fiery burn and he seemed to be able to think clearer. Maybe that unpleasant potion he was forcing down his throat was really some kind of antidote.

While the others went off to take their positions, he’d been given the lighter duty of sniper post, where he didn’t have to move out of position.

He gave Kit a stern look. “You stay in that hatch. You don’t come out. You don’t take pictures. Or I’ll tie your hands up and you can spank me later.”

Her eyes narrowed. Then she grinned. “You promise?”

He gave her a reluctant grin but resisted flirting back. His friends were watching and the Stooges were elbowing each other.

“Kit, don’t put others’ lives at stake because of a few pictures,” he said instead.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I’ll do as I’m told. My brother is—”

“A fucking Airborne Ranger!” roared the Stooges and a few others.

Obviously, they’d all been filled in with the details. They chuckled as Kit gave them the finger. A minute later, his commander gave the signal and they started upriver, the huge boat slithering like a shadowy monster under the darkening skies.

When they stopped, Lucas glanced at Kit. She nodded and after handing him yet another vial of antidote, she quietly climbed into her hatch.

“And now, we wait,” Hawk mouthed.

*

Shahrukh climbed off his steed. He’d already given the signal to Jazz Zeringue. His men inside had their orders. The first explosion and they were to fan out in different directions. Their job was to compromise the exits, then allow the SEALs and the other military outfits with them to do their jobs.

The Kurdish blood in him demanded he join in but he had another assignment. His men were war-conditioned, experienced in the art of stealthy attacks. They would take advantage of these insurgents and disappear into the night.

He already had messages passed around through the hotbed of insurgent tribes. Whispered through the channels, the news would spread about this particular mistake by the clan.

Who would be so stupid as to take in weapons when they had just been attacked the previous night?

Didn’t they know they were being watched? Surely we could not trust them to be in our network.

They’re Taliban. Of course the US would watch them and attack. We must not join forces with them.

Shahrukh had no problem with the border wars. That was for the people to decide. But the Taliban, with their subjugation of unwilling people and their association with Al-Qaeda, was a different animal altogether. Fewer insurgent groups joining them would be a good setback for a while.

The first explosion hit the front wall.

It had begun.

*

Kit heard the distant boom and knew the attack had started. She’d never felt so tense in her life. She wasn’t afraid—not really—but her heart was beating hard and her senses appeared to have fingers, reaching out for and grasping every sound, smell and taste, until they echoed like rolling thunder in her brain.

The hatch had some kind of battery-operated lighting and she could peer out through the slight crack of the small entry way. Nothing to see, really. But the noise fed her imagination.

*

Shahrukh remembered how the first group of SEALs snuck inside during the initial attack and seizure, through the hole under the barn. He wondered whether Yakob’s people found it. It might not have occurred to them, since the invasion happened so quickly. He recalled a hole through the ceiling that had been shot out by somebody. There was a chance they’d thought the attackers had broken inside that way.

He circled the wall in the dark, heading toward where the barn was situated. That Branson fellow was a big man and if he could fit through that hole, Shahrukh would too.

A small grenade exploded behind the wall and a body fell to the ground nearby. He kept on going. His men would open up the side entrance soon and there would be plenty of mayhem.

*

“Cumber, position, over.” His commander’s voice came over his helmet mic.

“Position 3, over. I have my eyes trained for the Shah,” Lucas replied quietly. They’d given Shahrukh that moniker. “I’ll cover him if he’s successful.”

He tried to stay positive. He didn’t doubt his team and the few gunboat crew members would win and retain the weaponry Shahrukh had used as bait, but he had his doubts about the latter’s finding a young girl in the melee. Sure, he’d recognize her and she might even attempt to escape again, but this time, the risks were higher. If she were running around in that big area where the men were engaging in deadly combat, chances are she’d get caught in the middle of some heavy artillery fire.

Shahrukh had told them the women would probably be in hiding in the main house, although the Taliban did sometimes have a nasty habit of using their women as shields or even as weapons. But that was mainly when they planned some kind of attack, such as strapping explosives on a woman to act as a human bomb in the market place.

Still, Lucas hoped Kit was mentally prepared she might not see the young girl alive again. She’d spent the whole day totally invested in her safety and well-being. Losing her when she thought all might end well would be devastating.

The explosions were getting more numerous. His comrades had already taken off, running towards the entrances illuminated by the fires inside. His eyes scanned the terrain, looking for signs of hostiles and Shahrukh.

*

Shahrukh went down on his hands and knees. That hole was still there and it was damn small. Those three SEALs must have crawled on their stomachs, which accounted for all that foul animal offal stuck on their uniforms that night. He remembered the smell all too well. He would have to leave most of his weapons and hang on to his main one while crawling in.

He stood up to unstrap his belt and rounds of ammunition. The sound of heavy breathing caught his attention. A small hand reached out from the hole and grabbed his shoe. A shriek followed and the hand receded. Without losing a beat, he was back on his knees, reaching in with his long arm and finding a limb. Determinedly fighting biting teeth and sharp nails, he tugged hard and pulled a screaming, struggling body out of the hole.

He covered her mouth. The skin felt slippery from all the muck she’d crawled through.

“It’s me,” he said in Pashto, shaking her. “Ahmin.”

That was his Pashtun name when he mingled among the clans.

She was sobbing, almost hysterical. “Ahmin, Ahmin, Ahmin,” she chanted.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Help me. They caught me again. Help me.” She threw herself on him, her voice filled with a desperation that would haunt him later.

“I’m here to help you,” he told her. “Be that brave girl again for me. Stop crying. We have to go but you must stop acting like a child and be brave now.”

She was crying so hard, her tears soaked through the front of his shirt. His hands were wet. Her neck felt slippery. Her hair was a mass of wet tangles and goop stuck to it. Her breathing sounded very raspy, as if she was having difficulty breathing through her sobs. He frowned. Something wasn’t right.

“I will stop crying. I will stop crying.” She kept repeating the line.

But her breathing remained horrible, sounding like she was suffering from asthma. Shahrukh quickly restrapped his weapons and then tugged on her arm toward the shrubs and line of trees leading to the hidden pathways. She stumbled behind him. He recalled she’d been more nimble last night. Had she been beaten? Was she injured?

He paused and turned her face toward the illuminated destruction behind them. A curse escaped his lips. He had difficulty checking the tide of anger engulfing him as he stared down at the young face.

They had cut off Minah’s nose.

*

Lucas aimed. Fired. No outside help. That was Shahrukh’s suggestion to Hawk. He’d told them his sources would spread the word it was a tribal warfare. Many would stay away if there was a blood feud, but there would be some who might be clan related coming in to assist.

Joker was on the opposite side doing the same thing. The walled area, which housed the main living areas and the storage facilities, was bursting out in flames all over. There were shouts and war cries, sounds from fleeing panicked horses and people running out. The firelight made it easy to see the men trying to escape.

A lone figure on horseback charged up the dark trail. Lucas aimed his weapon at him. He seemed to know his way, heading toward the meeting place, not far from where the rest of the river crew waited.

It was Shahrukh.

And he was being followed by three other men on horses. One fired his weapon. Shahrukh’s horse continued its way through the night towards where Lucas was in position. The three men continued the chase.

Lucas took careful aim and fired.

*

When his steed entered the clearing through the shrubbery, Shahrukh let out a whistle, then nudged his horse back into the shadows. Minah was hunched over in front of him, her hands grabbing to the mane for dear life. He patted her back gently, then jumped off his horse.

“Minah, you can let go now,” he told her in a gentle voice. “It’s safe to let go. Jump down.”

She’d been very quiet since his outburst, as if his fury calmed her. She unclenched her fists and slid into his arms. He carried her like the child she still was—should be—and not some married woman to a warlord three times her age.

A whistle came back. Then another from the river.

All clear.

He started toward the boat. Same procedure as last night. He regretted he hadn’t been able to snatch the young girl somehow then. She wouldn’t have had to go through her ordeal then.

The same crew met with him and helped him get the rescued girl into the craft.

“Hawk came over the radio. They’re coming back in five, with the seized boxes of weapons. How’s the girl?”

Shahrukh recognized the voice. It was the one they called River Rat.

“She’s going to need medical attention,” he said.

“Serious?”

“I’ve placed something on the wound to stop the bleeding, but she’s lost a lot of blood. Get ready to transport her where she can be out of harm. I don’t think the base will be able to take care of her injuries. Is everyone on the team coming back?”

“Affirmative, no injuries. Yet.”

Shahrukh nodded and tucked the girl closer for a few moments, pulling his coat over her tightly. She was refusing to turn her head.

“Minah, these people will need you to speak in English where we are going. It’s okay if it’s just a little English because I’m sure they’ll have interpreters. They’re going to help you. I cannot stay, do you hear me?”

“Why can’t you stay?”

“Because I have something I have to do. You will let the Americans take you away from here and live a happy life. You will be safe.”

There was a pause.

“Okay,” she finally said, in English. “Will…I…see you again?”

“Insha’Allah,” Shahrukh replied. “God willing.”

He opened the hatch. There was someone there.

“Ah, Kit,” he said. “I have someone for you but you mustn’t frighten her with your questions right now.”

“Minah! Thank God.” Kit moved things around. “Put her here. I’ll take care of her.”

“Kit?” Minah sounded grateful she recognized someone else.

“Please do not scream when you see her,” he continued in a low voice. “And…maybe ask permission before you use that camera.”

“What?” Kit asked.

He placed Minah next to Kit. “They cut off her nose.” He could feel Kit’s shock in the silence that followed. He continued, “She’s all right but she needs medical attention as soon as possible. Don’t make her cry again. She’s trying to breathe through her mouth and not her nose. It’s clogged up. Can you handle this?”

“O…Okay. All right. I…yes,” Kit said, her voice growing stronger. “Yes, close the hatch. I’ll take care of it.”

“Good. I have full confidence you can handle this.”

After all, he’d seen how determined she’d been, taking care of that SEAL of hers when he should have been out of commission hours and hours ago. Yet, the man was alive and out there doing his duty.

Lucky fellow.

Meanwhile, he had his own duty. He was going to kill the bastard who cut off Minah’s nose himself.

*

The boat ride back to base was uneventful. Lucas was glad Kit opted to stay where she was. Safer. One never knew when a hostile decided to appear by the banks and start shooting. They stayed mostly quiet, keeping a watchful eye. They had a whole load of seized weapons to show any inquiry into their decision to attack the insurgents again after last night’s successful raid to retrieve The Cob.

That episode seemed so long ago. It was the nature of life in the theatre, though. Things could move fast; lives could be taken just like that. Or, things could slow down to a plodding pace, hours that would turn into days of waiting for action. The last forty-eight hours fell into the former bracket.

River Rat had filled him in on what Shahrukh had told them before he left. That poor kid. He hadn’t really checked in on their female passengers since they were in a hurry to get out of there. He’d knocked on the entryway and Kit had confirmed they were fine. He couldn’t imagine the horror and pain of being thirteen and being disfigured like that. All of the guys who had been out in the battle zone had grown silent when they heard the report. He had a feeling he knew where Shahrukh had gone off to and he fucking approved.

Back at the secured area of the river, they disembarked quickly. It was already lit up and a larger than normal group was waiting for them. Medics. Vivi V-Z and Amber Hutchens. Other personnel to help account for the “confiscated” weapons. And some civilians he didn’t recognize.

Hawk signaled the men to move a bit further away to give Kit and Minah room to get to Vivi. The medics, having been alerted of Minah’s condition, were ready with beds and equipment. Jazz and a few of his team mates went to stand in front of the civilians and Lucas could hear some arguments coming from that direction.

Kit emerged from the hatch first, dirty, disheveled and so damn beautiful. He wanted to snatch her up and kiss her for a good long time. Then the young girl with her stood up very slowly. Since he was still on the boat to help them out, he was the first to see her face.

He stopped himself from uttering the angry curses that rose to his lips. He clenched his jaw and willed himself to look normal as they approached. Where her nose used to be, there was just a bloody mess with two black holes. Someone had wiped most of the blood off but the red dried smears were horrific evidence of the torture she went through. Quickly he pulled out a hanky from his pocket and handed it to Kit. She shot him a grateful look before turning to Minah.

“Here you go. My friends will take care of you, okay?”

Minah nodded, holding Lucas’ hanky in front of her disfigured face.

The moment they stepped off, the medics took over. Lucas stood to one side as Vivi, Amber and an interpreter took over. Urgent orders passed between the medics as they put Minah onto the bed and began checking on her vitals.

“Hey, Kit! Kit!” Someone called out.

Lucas turned in the direction of the civilians. Kit also swerved around.

“Sean? Sean!” She glanced quickly at Lucas and mouthed ‘be right back’ before trotting off to her colleagues.

So that was Sean and her media team. He vaguely remembered them at the morning fight now. He frowned as he caught the gist of the argument going on. Sean was protesting the fact Jazz wouldn’t allow them closer to Minah.

“This lieutenant won’t let us talk to Minah and take photos,” Lucas heard him say to Kit. “It’s part of the interview. Go take some pictures.”

Kit shook her head. “No, Sean. It’s not the right time,” she said. “Minah is very traumatized. I think…we’re going to need permission from her to take any more pictures.”

“She’s all bloodied up, Kit! We need the visuals to show in our article. You know it’d help our readers to understand the problems of…”

“Sean!” Kit interrupted. “Not tonight. Believe me. The article will be horrible enough without the pictures of Minah’s condition.”

“What if I make it an order?” Sean asked.

Lucas walked toward them. He wasn’t going to allow this Sean fellow to threaten Kit, although he seemed more frustrated than angry.

“Is that a threat?” Kit asked.

Sean sighed. “No. It’s been a fucking long day, waiting and not knowing whether you’re all right. But we’re missing a good story here, Kit.”

“We aren’t. We have a lot of material and I have a first person account. Me.”

Sean nodded, then looked at Lucas standing behind Kit. He gave a small smile and pointed a finger. “Well. Is that a threat?”

Kit looked back, gave Lucas a frown, and turned back to Sean. “No.”

“But I could be,” Lucas said in a mild voice.

“Ah, more like a guard dog,” Sean said, his head cocked slightly as he studied the two of them. “You must be the SEAL who ran off after Kit. I was told you two know each other. How about an interview about a certain raid? No names, of course. I’ve talked to your Lieutenant here and…”

Kit shook her head. “Sean, go stand over there and we’ll discuss this in a few minutes. Please.” Then she turned to Lucas again. “You aren’t well. You go back there with the waiting doctors and let them take care of you. And here, you’re supposed to drink this down. Now, please. It’s been over an hour since your last one. You have quite a few more of these to go.”

“Go, Cumber,” Jazz, who had been quietly watching, said, amusement thickening his Cajun accent. “You should follow orders. After all, I was ordered by my wife to come here to prevent the reporters from interrupting her. Look, Hawk’s heading over here now. He’s probably been sent by Amber to stop making a racket. What are we SEALs to do but obey the women?”

The little jibe brought the level of tension down considerably.

“I heard that,” Hawk said, when he reached them. “Cumber, you heard your orders. Don’t worry. Kit will be there soon because she has more vials to feed you.”

It was said in that easy, relaxed way his commander always conveyed, but it was nonetheless an order. He was to report to Medic. Lucas sighed. He’d hoped to avoid another fucking check-up, especially now that he felt one hundred percent better. The looks his two commanders gave him were loud and clear, though.

With a sigh, he waved his surrender to Kit, turned and trudged off to the waiting medics.

An hour later, he was still being checked by the base doctor. He sat impatiently, waiting for Kit. She was supposed to show up with the next vial of that magic cocktail. He didn’t care about that. He just wanted her there with him.

“How long, doc?” He asked.

“Your heart rate is irregular. We don’t like the second test results, so this is going to take a while, Branson. Lieutenant McMillan told me you’ve been drinking some kind of herbal concoction, that the base of this poison is castor oil, is that right?”

Lucas shrugged. “Right.”

“Castor oil is also the base ingredient used to make ricin. You’re showing similar symptoms of ricin poisoning.”

“I didn’t ingest the poison,” Lucas quickly pointed out.

The doctor nodded. “I said symptoms. I don’t have any idea what the poison is and we have to get a biopsy to be more conclusive.”

“Of my wound? Shit.”

“What? You get stabbed and called it a nick. Now you’re acting like a pussy because we want to nick some bits of flesh off you? Should be like a paper cut, right? What’s the hurry? Is it your girlfriend you’re having a hard-on for?”

“Absolutely,” Lucas drawled back. “Just move my big hard-on out of the way before you start cutting anything, okay?”

The doctor laughed. “That’s the Cumber I’m used to.” He took off his gloves. “I’ll go get ready for the…minor…procedure. Meanwhile, your girlfriend is outside. I’ve taken a sample of that concoction of hers for testing too. I’m going to talk to your commanders and teammates to tell them you’ll be here overnight for a kidney flush. Also, no pissing. You know that means a tube up your dick, right?”

Fucking asshole wanted to hear him cry. “Yeah, right, okay, thank you. Please tell Lieutenant McMillan I need to talk to him.” He needed to report to Hawk about that other truck and the little boy. But first, please, just send Kit in here before he ripped all these needles out of his arm and get to her. He wanted to make sure she was okay.

After the doctor left, Lucas glared at the shut door. The doorknob finally turned and Kit burst in. She had cleaned up and changed her clothes. She took one look at him and burst into tears, running to the side of his bed. He held her with his free arm.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, now truly worried.

Her tears were hot against his bare chest. “Just seeing you,” she replied.

“I don’t look that bad. Hey, it’s okay.” He stroked her hair. Must be delayed shock. It’d been a long day for his girl. “Everything’s going to be fine, even for that young kid. Facial reconstruction would take care of her nose, you’ll see. I’m sure…”

“It’s not just that,” Kit said, her voice muffled. “Just seeing you here made me realize how close I was to losing you. Don’t lie about your condition like that again.”

“It’s part of my job, baby. Everything is dangerous.” Including a knife shallowly. embedded in his belt. “We could have died from that grenade coming at us, remember? I was terrified about your safety all day.”

Actually, he remembered feeling euphoric after the grenade hit the van and didn’t explode. He would always remember Kit dancing her victory hustle. He’d wanted to marry her then.

“Well, like you’re so fond of saying, I’m fine. I can take care of myself too. I took care of you,” she told him airily, then dangled the vial in front of his nose. “Drink this down, get better, and maybe we can do a lot more spelunking.”

He choked. “Spelunking?”

She grinned slyly, her cheeks still damp from her tears. “You know, cave exploration.”

He laughed. The woman was his soul mate. “I love you,” he told her softly.

“Is this the part where I tell you I love you back?” She teased.

“No, you’re to say, ‘I love you more and will never sing Airborne Ranger songs to you ever again.”

She laughed and snuggled closer. “Can I stay here all night? I don’t want to go out to deal with Sean until tomorrow.”

She could stay forever by his side. Lucas moved over. She climbed up next to him. “Stay,” he said, lowering his head, “and that’s an order.”

“I do love you,” she whispered.

She lifted up her pretty face and met his kiss. He pushed his tongue inside her soft mouth, taking his time to taste her. Her tongue explored his as her hands reached up and laced behind his neck. The sweet taste of her was all the antidote he’d ever need. He reached around and cupped her soft breast—a perfect fit for his hand, he noted—rubbing the material over the nipple. He groaned. Braless.

Damn doctor better not return that quickly. Or like he’d promised earlier, his hard on was going to be in the way.

*

Shahrukh pulled at the yarn, breaking it as it meandered through the cave passages. He bent down to pick one end and started rolling the thread into a ball. A noise alerted him and after a pause, he continued his task.

“I see you’ve picked up a new hobby.”

The husky voice, unexpected as a sudden breeze, floated from the shadows, away from the lantern light. It could move or freeze people, that voice. He’d yet to learn how to do that. Number Nine’s effect on people made him a fascinating weapon to study.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, concentrating on his chore. “Sending you here to clean up was a mistake.”

He had just done his own version of cleaning up. That undertaking was eminently less peaceful than rolling yarn into a ball. He heard movement again and then the shadowy figure appeared. He stopped and studied the man, who returned the favor.

“You look strange in our native garb, Jed,” Shahrukh observed lightly, “but the stubble does add a movie-star quality.”

“And you look a lot less than your usual serene self,” Jed said, his strange silver gaze sweeping him from head to toe. Besides the blood on his clothes giving away his recent activities, he was sure Jed had his ways of finding out what had happened. “Killing in cold blood doesn’t settle well, does it? Was it the clean up you sent me for?”

Shahrukh shook his head. “No. It was personal.”

“Even more dangerous to the soul.”

A very profound statement from an assassin. Shahrukh looked at the other man for another long moment. “It had to be done. This other assignment can wait. Like I said, I’ve changed my mind.” He thought of the woman lying in a coma back at Center, the one person who had started to make his friend feel again. “Go home. Be with her. She needs you.” When Jed turned and walked away, he continued, “What if Hell dies while you’re doing your job? You’ll regret it. Don’t you…care?”

Jed paused in mid-step but didn’t turn around. “Rukh. It’s a pattern in my life. My hands are too bloodstained from death. They contaminate those I…care about. There is no better punishment, so I’ll just do my job. I’ll catch up with you in Karakoram. I think I might go and watch your friend Zerya for a while. An interesting woman.”

Shahrukh didn’t stop his fellow COS commander as he strode off down the tunnel. He would return soon enough because he was Number Nine, the one in his unit who finished a Virus mission. He knew Shahrukh would give him the assignment sooner or later. That last jibe was meant to distract him from probing any further about his mental condition.

Zerya was in no danger and she was capable of making decisions and taking care of herself. Besides, Jed’s mind was on another far more interesting woman, one who could move a cold bastard like him.

Punishment? That word carried a lot of emotional baggage. His friend was in worse shape than he’d thought.

“Karakoram,” he murmured in agreement. Where the soulless go to trade.

Chapter Fifteen

‡

Charleston,

Two months later

Kit took pictures of her friend Lulu and Mink sharing a huge glass of some kind of blue mixed drink. Sitting across the booth table, they both had their lips pursed on the rim of the glass in between them. Right at the moment she clicked the button, Mink made one of his godawful faces, his mouth grotesquely wide open, one eye half-shut. Predictably, Lulu squealed.

“Can’t you just take a normal photo with me?” She asked in disgust. “Every photo we have together looks like I’m sitting next to a monster.”

Mink grinned. “I think I look great in those photos.”

“Kit, do something!” Her friend pleaded.

Kit shook her head. Mink was a gorgeous man, with a killer smile that could melt snow, but he was a member of an elite Navy SEAL team. She suspected his playfulness was partly because of his job and an unwillingness to have his face identified and partly because he loved to tease Lulu. Maybe mostly the latter because she noticed Mink had the biggest smile whenever Lulu got riled up.

“Please, Mink,” Kit said, smiling sweetly. “It’s Valentine’s Day, not Halloween. Let’s make an exception and give Lulu a photo to remember this day, without the faces. I know about your fear of your perfect model looks being captured in a still, but I promise, this one will be in a private album for just us girls.”

“Aw, Mink, relent a bit, dude. Kit is begging,” Dirk, who was leaning against the far end glass window so Kit could take her picture, said. “Also, hear my pleas. I’m hungry.”

Mink let out an exaggerated sigh and looked across at Lucas, sitting next to her. “With your permission, sir, may I have a smiley photo with your sister?”

“Hey!” Lulu huffed. “Why do you always ask him first, dammit?”

“Well, seeing that it’s Valentine’s Day,” Lucas drawled. “You have my permission.”

“Thank you, Cumber,” Mink said then grinned at Kit. He pushed the big glass away and scooted closer to Lulu. Putting an arm around her shoulders, his grin turned into a charming smile. “Hurry up, this one’s free. Next one’s going to cost ya.”

“Okay!” Kit said. “Lulu, say ‘cheese!’”

She leaned closer to get a closer shot and just as her forefinger came down to click on the button, Mink turned Lulu into his arms. A startled Lulu grabbed his shoulder to steady herself. He leaned forward and planted a deep kiss on her friend’s lips.

Click.

“Oh my! Rhett! You do give a damn!” Kit teased, affecting Miss Clementine’s very southern accent. “Classic pose! Looks good, Lulu!”

Her friend straightened up and pushed Mink away. Her face was flushed and her voice, just a little breathy. “The last time he was Rhett Butler he had two straws up his nose for a moustache. One cannot unsee that in one’s brain.”

“The kiss was meant to befuddle you, my dear.”

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn,” Lulu sniped back pertly.

Everyone chuckled. Kit set her slim camera on the window ledge, along with her smart phone. With those two children across the table, she didn’t want to chance any of her of electronic stuff getting wet.

This Valentine’s Day was perfect. The Stooges had the rest of the week off and had come to town and she’d just finished her interview with Minah, who was still in a special military hospital in Virginia. Lucas had kissed her senseless the moment she’d arrived at the airport.

They’d gone off to say hi to her mom and dad who had met Lucas when he was rehabilitating in the hospital in Germany. They got on great, although dad managed to slide in a couple of SEAL jokes which Lucas had politely taken in good humor.

Yay, both sets of Parental Units had given their approval.

They had all first met in Germany. They’d actually flown there to see Kit when she’d called them up about not coming home with the media team for a few more weeks. After hearing her story and how Lucas’ poisoning had a setback and needed more sophisticated care, Kit’s father had called in some favors and before she knew it, both her parents were knocking at her room in the military hospital. It so happened Lucas’ parents were by his bedside too and their families had the chance to bond over her boyfriend’s injury.

She leaned against Lucas’ arm. It’d been a month and a half since his hospital stay but she was still worried about him. The doctors had assured her his kidney wasn’t badly damaged but still, they hadn’t known about the dangerous aftereffects of the poison, so how could they know if he was one hundred percent?

Lucas, of course, was just glad to be out. He hated everything at the hospital. He hated being the only one on his team sick and was the worst patient ever. He hated the hospital food. He hated being confined in the room with needles sticking out of him. He hated to be in the hospital skirt, as he called it. Boy, hate was not a strong enough word.

All she cared about was he was here with her. But just in case, she’d kept that card Mr. Shahrukh had given her. Whoever he was, he’d saved Lucas’ life and even if she might not need to ask him for any antidote potion any more, she did want to thank him.

It was so typical of the Stooges, though, to choose Chinese food for Valentine’s Day. The restaurant had a Valentine Special and the owner, who came out to greet them effusively like they were old friends, placed all the orders himself.

Lucas had just shrugged and said, “Bring it on. I need real food after the last two months.”

When the food arrived, Kit wanted to giggle. Everything was served on pink plates. There were artfully cut and arranged pink vegetable and fruit at the side of each dish. The guys were hugely amused and Lucas didn’t seem too bothered.

“Pink cucumber, dude!” Mink said. “You’ll never live it down.”

“Look at that pink pearly thing. Are those peas?”

“If you wait a bit, all the dishes will be out soon,” the owner said. “In China, it’s tradition to have all the dishes in the middle and everyone shares the meal, like a happy family.”

Lucas nodded. “Everything looks great. I love it,” he declared.

Kit stared at him. He seemed normal. Actually, he looked freaking hot in his shirt and pants. His hair had grown longer and was slicked back. She loved the way it curled around the collar and wished he didn’t have to cut those pretty locks off ever again. Being in special operations had some advantages. The men sometimes had to blend in with the local fighters and her brothers had returned home looking very unmilitary a time or two before.

As they waited, conversation drifted to the usual banter and then the men were deep in discussion about the call that just came in from Hawk. She knew, from what Lucas divulged, it had to do with that strange little boy who was shouting at them. Something about a message and deciphering it. Because the kid was yelling military slang, Lucas could remember most of them. Hawk had agreed that it merited a closer look and would point it out in his report to the Admiral. Was that boy really giving some kind of message? She smiled secretly. Lucas didn’t know it but she’d jotted down a lot of what sounded like military slang coming from that boy into her notebook. She’d have to sit down and look through her pile of notes and find it. Perhaps there could be a new story in there.

Already, Minah’s story was becoming a sensation. Sean had insisted on giving her a lot of the credit even though the prep work was a team effort. She’d become part of the story now and a connection to Minah, who had bravely given her permission to take photographs of her face. The young girl was still without a nose but her attitude was amazingly positive. Her caretakers and staff of doctors had taken the effort to make her comfortable and she was excited about finally being in the United States and perhaps meeting Malala, the other Afghan girl who was shot in the head by the Taliban.

The next article in the series would be about Minah’s future. There had been thousands of emails and letters offering help and adoption. As Sean said, “one hell of a story there too.”

Her own account, minus certain details, had also been broadcasted on several Internet news service. She’d declined many of interviews about herself, preferring to concentrate on Minah’s and her fellow countrywomen’s plight. Even Sean had agreed to hold off putting the details about the weapons cache after Admiral Madison had personally called him at the office. She found out later that he’d been promised to be part of the next SEAL-related operation as an embedded journalist. She’d like to meet the Admiral one day. That song Lucas had taught her had made her very curious about his background.

So many amazing stories to tell, her cup runneth over. She was learning, though, to let her story speak through imagery. She might hold back a few details, but her photos documented the truth. Minah’s face. The blotches of blood on Lucas’ uniform. The deep new scar he now had on the side of his body. The dark and narrow cavern. The burnt-out shell that was the school. Contrast those with the magnificent beauty of the Swat Valley she’d taken from the treetop. The smiling children accepting their gifts. The picture she took of the hustle and bustle in the Mingora marketplace. Sean’s stories were hard-hitting, brilliant pieces but she felt she’d added a more intimate perspective to their article.

Kit looked around at her friends. When the food arrived, she wanted to take a picture of all those gorgeous dishes to remember today. Lucas was with her and these were his and her best friends. Perfect moment. As she reached for her phone, her elbow hit her tiny camera and sent it off the ledge. She tried to catch it but it bounced off the plastic seat and fell between the booth and the wall.

The others didn’t notice as she tried to push her hand in the small space to get at her camera. Damn it. She couldn’t find it. Not wanting to disturb their conversation and without much thought, she slid down the booth seat in one nimble move. Being small had its advantage. She could fit anywhere.

On her hands and knees, she peered down but found there was no opening under the booth, just solid wood. A moment of panic assailed her. How the hell was she going to get her camera out of that? Then she caught sight of the vinyl string that was attached to the side of her camera. Thank God. It was just jammed between the seat and the wall and if she was very careful, she could get it out of there before it fell all the way down inside the booth.

She curled two fingers into the crack and used her nails to slowly coax the string forward. It wobbled towards her unsteadily.

“Come to mama,” she crooned. “Yes, yes. That’s a good boy. Yes!”

Her camera back safely in her possession, she turned and slid back up on her seat. Easy-peasy. The whole thing couldn’t have taken longer than a minute and the others wouldn’t even noti…silence greeted her.

Kit glanced around at her friends. Every pair of eyes was on her. Even the waiter and the owner, who were standing by the table with bowls of rice in their hands, ready to serve, were looking at her bemusedly.

Lucas was giving her the most amused smile, an eyebrow cocked above eyes shiny with laughter.

“What?” Kit asked, holding up her camera as explanation. “I was just…”

Huh. The others had heard her telling something to “come to mama,” followed by her excited “yes, yes yes.” Oh, Lord. She blushed.

“What was all that about?” asked Mink slyly.

“That was my ordering today’s special,” Lucas replied, his smile turning sinfully wicked as he gave her a wink.

Everyone started to laugh. Kit turned redder.

“Oh, my God, Kit,” Lulu choked in between fits of laughter. “If only you had seen our faces when we heard you under the table. You’ll be hearing about this for a while.”

Kit stuck out her tongue. “Shut up,” she said rudely and spooned some chicken onto her rice. “Shut up and eat.”

Lucas chuckled and his big hand scratched her back. “One day—”

“Don’t even think about it and don’t say your dirty thoughts out loud,” she ordered, knowing the direction of his mind too well. She took a bite of her food. “Oh, wow! This is delicious, guys.”

That managed to change the subject, something for which she was eminently grateful. Not that they would forget the incident. She was sure it would be brought up as a reminder of that Valentine dinner with the pink dishes.

Everyone happily devoured the food. Even the fortune cookies were pink and she took a picture of them because it was just too funny. Lucas was going to have a big bill, but when she offered to help out with it, he just gave her one of those male looks. He pushed a fortune cookie onto her plate, cracked his open and read it out loud.

“Do not insult man who eats pink cucumber,” he said. “What does yours say?”

She picked hers up. As she broke hers open, she saw the flash from Lulu’s camera and looked up at her friend.

“Hey, tit for tat,” Lulu said. “I want a picture of you and Lucas staring at a pink fortune cookie. Come on, hurry up!”

Kit looked up and smiled at Lucas because she wanted to have a nice picture with him. He had an odd little smile on his lips, like he was enjoying what he was looking at, and it sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Oh, they had better be alone very, very soon or she was liable to attack—

She glanced down at her cookie with a frown. What was this? She unwrapped the small piece of paper.

“Oh, my God,” she said.

She looked up at Lucas. His smile had turned tender. She looked down at the diamond ring, totally speechless.

“Read your fortune,” Lucas said, his voice soft and impatient.

She picked up the paper and read out loud, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, I will,” Lucas replied and pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Kit-Ling, my Cupcake, moi melenkei kotonok. I want to be with you always. Come to papa!”

She just laughed and wrapped her arms around the muscular body. “Yes!” she yelled out. “Yes! Yes! Yes! And you never told me what that phrase meant.”

“It’s Russian. You’re the nerd, go Google it,” Lucas said. “Kiss me and I’ll tell you later.”

Kit complied, ignoring her friends’ hoots and teasing, locking her lips passionately with her very own SEAL. He kissed her possessively, taking his time, as usual, showing her with action rather than words how much he loved and wanted her.

“A perfect Valentine all caught on video,” announced Lulu smugly. “SEALed with a kiss! Haha.”

“Dude, check out that rock.”

“I did. I helped steam the darn cookie open, you idiot, while you and Lulu were fooling around.”

“Hey, we were in charge of—”

Everyone was talking at once but Kit didn’t hear a thing. She was too busy kissing her warrior on the most memorable Valentine’s Day ever.

*

From the Author

I hope you enjoyed Lucas and Kit’s story. If you want to read about the other SEALs, here are their titles:

Jazz and Vivi’s story is in PROTECTOR

Hawk and Amber’s story is in HUNTER

Reed (Joker) and Lily’s story is in SLEEPER

Zone and Rebecca’s story is in (Her Secret) PIRATE – a short story

Research Notes

1) *Malala Yousafzai’s story can be found in many news articles. She was a student activist advocating education when the Taliban shot her in the head. She has written a book about her life.

2) Many women in Afghanistan and Pakistan and their shared border remain uneducated and dependent. There have been some positive changes, including the recent appointment of a female elder in the jirga, but there are still many violent crimes committed against young women. Through newspaper accounts and research, I’ve weaved my own stories about the victims, but the crimes are real, with very little justice handed out.

3) The Kurdish Peshmerga troops do allow women into their army. I am very fascinated by these strong and fiercely independent women. Their stories call out to be told. The recent assassination of three female leaders brought worldwide attention and of course, many conspiracies abound around their deaths.

4) The references to The Game is from my serial stories about a secret treasure hunting organization called The Temple. The books are titled The Game and The Pawn. You will find unexpected connections of “Ahmin” and Lucas Branson in those stories.

5) Downed Stealths and stolen Stealth parts are, unfortunately, real. A paint with a radar-cloaking agent is also real. My conspiracy theory putting those two items together, hopefully, not so real.

6) Moi malenkei kotonok is anglicized Russian for “my little kitten.” Wait until Kit finds out and calls him “my big pink Cucumber” in Chinese. But that’s another story, I’m afraid.

About the Author

Gennita Low writes sexy military and techno spy-fi romance. She also co-owns a roof construction business and knows 600 ways to kill with roofing tools as well as yell at her workers in five languages. A three-time Golden Heart finalist, her first book, Into Danger, about a SEAL out-of-water, won the Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award for Best Romantic Intrigue. Besides her love for SEALs, she works with an Airborne Ranger who taught her all about mental toughness and physical endurance. Gennita lives in Florida with her mutant poms and one chubby squirrel.

To learn more about Gennita, visit www.Gennita-Low.com, www.rooferauthor.blogspot.com and www.facebook.com/gennita.

Other Books by Gennita Low

BIG BAD WOLF

~ ~ Crossfire Series ~ ~

PROTECTOR

HUNTER

SLEEPER

HER SECRET PIRATE (short story in SEAL of my Dreams) & also available separately

WARRIOR

~ ~ Secret Assassins (S.A.S.S.) ~ ~

INTO DANGER

FACING FEAR

TEMPTING TROUBLE

~ ~ Sex Lie & Spies Serials ~ ~

THE GAME

THE PAWN

~ ~ Super Soldier Spy ~ ~

VIRTUALLY HIS

VIRTUALLY HERS

~ ~ Children’s books as “Gennita” ~ ~

A SQUIRREL CAME TO STAY

Seal’s Desire

Elle James

Copyright © 2014 Elle James

EPUB Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

From the Author

As a member of the armed forces, we were required to attend an annual briefing on human trafficking. Most people don’t realize what a huge issue this is. Every day men, women and children are stolen from their homes and sold into slavery, held captive, tortured, raped and murdered in the business of selling human flesh.

As a concerned citizen and a human being, be aware of your surroundings so that you do not fall victim to these atrocities, and report suspicious behavior. You might save a life.

I’d like to dedicate this book to those people who ferret out the truth and bring the monsters who commit these crimes to justice.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please consider taking the time to leave a review on your favorite retail or reader review site. Authors appreciate your thoughts about the books you read and love it when you share them with others.

Escape with…

Elle James
aka Myla Jackson

Chapter One

‡

Remy LaDue stuck his key in the lock and twisted, pushing open the door to the apartment he hadn’t see in four months. As he stepped inside, half of SEAL Team 10 2nd Platoon followed. Much as he loved his teammates, he had been hoping for a few quiet moments to himself. Having just completed a mission in the hills of Afghanistan, he was ready for some quiet time to gather his thoughts and plan his next operation: a Valentine’s Day date with Mitchell Sanders, the one woman he’d never been able to forget.

“So, what’s it going to be tonight? Steak, beer and football? Or are we just going to hit the rack and sleep away the jetlag?” Big Bird flopped his long lanky frame onto the couch in Remy’s apartment. Though his own apartment was two doors down, he and most of the team hung out at Remy’s, the usual gathering place for 2nd Platoon when they were on leave in Little Creek, Virginia.

“Man, we can’t sleep or piss away the night.” Dustman crossed his arms over his broad chest, the tattoos on his bulging biceps. “Tomorrow is fuckin’ Valentine’s Day. We didn’t fly halfway around the world to sit at home. Let’s go out and find us some women or we’ll be dateless on V’Day.”

Dustin Ford, aka Dustman, didn’t know a stranger. No matter where he went, he always found a willing woman. Partly due to his masculine physique, but more due to his open, outgoing personality. The man could talk a virgin out of her underwear in public. He was truly gifted.

Remy held up a hand. “You guys will have to do without me on this one.” He dumped his duffle bag on the floor and shrugged out of his jacket. After the long flight and little sleep, all he wanted at that moment was a hot shower.

“That’s right, all you talked about in the hills was getting back here to implement your Valentine’s Day backup plan.” Irish backhanded him in the belly and turned to the others. “Our man Gator is going after Mitchell.”

“I’m not going after Mitchell. She and I made a promise that if neither of us had a date come Valentine’s Day, we’d go out together. As a favor to Brewsky.”

Every man in the room grew still for a moment, a silent tribute to their fallen comrade.

“Amigo, you’ll only be disappointed.” Nacho broke the spell. “Brewsky’s been gone a year. Mitchell’s got her another man. With her blond hair and blue eyes, and…” he waved his hands in the shape of a woman’s curves. “She’s bound to be taken. You might as well throw your towel in the ring.”

“Wrong,” Remy argued, though he’d been worried about the same thing. She was gorgeous, smart and tough. Any man would be lucky to have her. “We’ve been in touch by Skype and email. I told her I’d call when I got back. You guys can go without me. I’ll join you if things fall through.”

“Come on, Big Bird.” Swede offered his hand and jerked the big SEAL from his comfortable position on the couch. “Let the man suffer his humiliation in private.”

“We’ll be at the Naughty Ladies Lounge around ten o’clock tonight.” Dustman rubbed his hands together. “Of course, after a thoroughly satisfying meal of steak and baked potatoes slathered in butter, sour cream and bacon bits, chased with a pitcher of beer each.”

Irish groaned. “Can a guy have a foodgasm?”

“Beats the hell out of MREs,” Fish noted.

“If I never eat another meal ready to eject, it’ll be too soon.” Nacho hung back as the others trailed out the door. Once everyone had gone, he turned back. “Really, if Mitchell’s not available, you should meet up with us. Sucks to be alone on Valentine’s Day. If you don’t give yourself at least a day of hunting, you won’t have a date for the big day.”

“Thanks, Sanchez. I’ll keep that in mind. Now…” He gave the man a pointed look.

“I get it. You’d like to call in private.” Cesar Sanchez, the compact Hispanic member of their team with dark hair and broad shoulders, backed out the doorway and closed it quietly behind him.

Remy sighed. This moment was the first time that day he’d been alone. Hell, it felt like the first time in months he’d been by himself. His pulse picked up and he grabbed his cell phone, hitting the saved number for Mitchell Sanders. His best friend, Derek Brewer’s girl. A stab of sadness with a chaser of guilt always accompanied any contact with Mitchell.

While Derek had been dating Mitchell, Remy had fallen for the strong-willed, beautiful NCIS agent. Had she been dating anyone else in the world besides one of his teammates, he’d have gone after her and to hell with the guy.

But among his teammates, there was a code of honor. SEALs didn’t poach on another SEAL’s girl. The last mission Gator and Brewsky had been on together went south. The intel they’d gotten had been faulty to the point Gator suspected it was a ruse to gain their trust long enough to blow them away.

That ruse had cost the lives of three of their platoon. Brewsky, when he threw himself over a grenade during a village sweep. Two other men from their team had been gunned down by the reported “unarmed” villagers. The rest of the team had to pull out and regroup before they could return and mop up the insurgent mess.

Remy waited for the phone to ring on the other end, his mind going back to Brewer’s funeral. Mitchell had been there, dressed in a black dress, something she rarely wore, and carrying a single red rose. After the eulogy was given and the coffin lowered into the ground, she tossed in the red rose. At that moment, the tears she’d held back released.

Remy had gathered her in his arms, never able to stand the sight of a woman in tears. Especially when that woman was Mitchell. She’d always been more of a tomboy. Her career with NCIS had been her focus, and she’d told them both that she had a lot she wished to accomplish before she settled down. Maybe she never would.

As SEALs, they understood the sacrifices people made to the greater good of others. Remy also knew that if you didn’t take the time to grieve, the raw emotion would come out in other ways. So he let her cry on his shoulder.

That night she’d asked him to stay with her. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. In love with her and hurting for the loss of his friend, he couldn’t have left had he wanted to. What started out as holding her while she cried changed. Soon, they were tearing at each other’s clothing in a desperate attempt to assuage their mutual loss.

He’d made love with Mitchell. God, it was the most beautiful experience of his life. When the passion ebbed, he’d lain with her in his arms for a long time. At first, he’d thought she was asleep. When she finally spoke, she’d voiced his own thoughts.

“That wasn’t right.” She pushed to a sitting position, wrapping the sheet around her body. “We shouldn’t have done it.”

He’d sat up beside her and reached out to take her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But he couldn’t. The guilt crushed him. “What do we do, now?” he’d asked.

Her eyes awash with tears, she said, “You have to go.”

He’d nodded, got out of bed, dressed and grabbed his keys. Still, he couldn’t leave her like that. “Just so you know, I don’t regret making love to you.”

Shaking her head, she pressed her hands over her ears. “It was wrong, so wrong. Derek’s dead. We were just at his goddamn funeral.”

Remy pulled her hands away from her ears. “Look at me,” he said in a quiet but stern tone. “I don’t regret what we did, just the timing. You’re right. The timing was wrong. We both loved Derek. We were both hurting. Don’t hate me for needing comfort.”

She’d stared up at him, tears clouding her blue eyes. “I don’t hate you.” Her bottom lip trembled. “I hate myself for letting this happen.”

“No, baby.” He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms, running a hand over her smooth back. “Don’t beat yourself up. Give yourself time.”

Time.

Over a year had passed. He’d kept in touch with Mitchell through email, texting and Skype, depending on where he was in the world. He’d been deployed several times and she’d been busy with her work with the NCIS at the Norfolk, Virginia, field office.

They’d grown closer in some ways by talking through their texts and emails. But they hadn’t actually seen each other since the night of Derek’s funeral. But that was all about to change.

In their last email, they’d agreed that if neither had a date on Valentine’s Day, they would not spend it alone.

Remy’s gut had been in knots since that message over two weeks ago. They’d been apart long enough for the grief of losing Derek to subside, and the guilt of having made love the night of his funeral had faded.

To Remy, a lot rode on this “date”. He’d been in love with Mitchell since before Brewsky died. That love had only grown stronger over the past year of separation.

His heart twisted as the phone rang on the other end. He counted five rings before voicemail picked up.

“Hi, this is Mitchell. I’m not available right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Mitchell, it’s Remy.” He had to clear his throat, it was so tight. “I just got back in town. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I don’t have a date. Call me.”

As he hung up, he worried his message sounded too pathetic. Too late to change it. The message was on her voicemail whether he liked it or not. Now all he had to do was wait for her call.

For the next five minutes, he jumped at every sound, finally realizing he was being ridiculous. She probably had to work late at the office and she’d call him as soon as she could.

Rather than hover over his cell phone, he’d be better off grabbing a shower. If she wanted to meet that night, he wanted to be available.

Setting his cell phone on the counter in the bathroom, he turned the faucet handle to warm, stripped and climbed into the shower. Heaven was warm water and water pressure. After a good fifteen-minute soak under the pulsing showerhead, he turned off the water and stepped out onto the bathmat to check his phone.

No call.

Afraid she might leave her office and eat on her way home, he dialed her office number. Her phone rang seven times, before it rolled over to the operator.

“How may I direct your call?”

“This is Navy SEAL Lieutenant Remy LaDue. I’m trying to reach Mitchell Sanders, but she’s not answering. Could you connect me to her supervisor, Barry White?”

“Yes, sir.”

Her supervisor answered on the first ring. “White speaking.”

“Barry, Remy LaDue. I’m in country and was trying to get hold of Mitchell.”

“You and me both, buddy.” Her boss paused. “She walked in a couple days ago and requested emergency leave. I granted it and haven’t heard a word from her since. You haven’t either?”

“No.” A twinge of unease knotted his belly. “Last time I heard from her was two weeks ago. We’ve been downrange until twenty-four hours ago when we flew back to the States.”

“Sorry. A friend of hers went missing, and she wanted to take time off to be with the family. Or so she said. I checked; her friend didn’t have any family that we know of.”

“I see.” The knot in Remy’s gut tightened, disappointment and concern washing over him. If she hadn’t been in contact with her supervisor, she probably wouldn’t be calling him anytime soon.

Remy almost decided to order out pizza and stay at his apartment for the night. At the last minute, he changed his mind, threw on a shirt and jeans and hurried out the door to catch his teammates. Steak sounded better than pizza. He set his phone on vibrate and put it in his pocket. If Mitchell called, he’d feel it.

*

Mitchell adjusted the skimpy costume. The sequined bra barely covered her breasts and the leotard with more decorative holes than fabric stretched over her shoulders and ass so tightly she was afraid one bad move and the holes designed into the costume would join each other, and the entire leotard would pop off her like a giant rubber band. Wincing, she plucked the back out of her butt crack.

“Honey, let it ride. The smaller the costume, the bigger the tips.” Dixie Lee adjusted her leopard-print G-string so that the triangle covered her Brazilian bikini wax and tucked her size triple-D boobs into the tight-fitting matching bikini top. Patent leather high heels completed her outfit. With makeup caked on her face to cover the fine lines that too much liquor, drugs and smoking had etched into her skin, she was ready to take her turn on the stage.

Mitchell swallowed hard to keep her nerves from getting the better of her.

The music came to an end on the stage. Men whistled and hooted, yelling for more when Candi pranced in, plucking the dollar bills from her bra and G-string. “The men are horny tonight, ladies. A whole group of military guys just walked in, fresh from deployment with fistfuls of cash. Who’s up?”

“Who do you suggest, Candi?” A gravelly male voice sounded from the backstage door. Rocco Hatch, the bar owner, entered, wearing a black suit jacket over a black shirt and black trousers. His dark hair was slicked back with enough product to make him the envy of most women, and he wore enough cologne to make Mitchell gag.

The man wasn’t very tall—maybe five feet nine inches. But, his ego was bigger than the floor space of the bar. He strolled through the strippers, his hand sliding over a breast here, an ass there until he came to a halt beside Candi.

She sneered at the others and draped an arm over Rocco’s shoulder, rubbing her breasts against his suit. “I think you should send the new bitch out there, Rocco baby.” She pressed her lips to his neck and slid her hand into his suit jacket.

Rocco’s brows rose and he directed his stare to Mitchell. “CC? It’s a full house out there. Think you’ve got what it takes to keep their attention?”

Mitchell pushed back her dread, reminding herself that this was the man with the connections. If she wanted to find Kelli, she’d have to play his game. Plumping her breasts, she let her eyelids drift low and her lips curl up slightly on the corners, striving for a confidence she wasn’t feeling. Though she loved to dance, she’d never pole danced or stripped in public. Her stomach clenched. If she wasn’t good enough, the customers would eat her alive and she’d lose her chance of capturing the boss’s attention.

“I’ve got it.” Using the steps she’d practiced in front of her mirror at home, she vamped her way through the other ladies in the dressing room and stopped in front of Rocco, gave Candi a brief, dismissive glance and walked her fingers up Rocco’s chest. “You won’t be disappointed.” Leaning forward, she gave him an eyeful of cleavage.

His nostrils flared.

Candi’s eyes narrowed and her hand slid down Rocco’s belly to caress his member that had swelled beneath his zipper. “Go on, then. Let’s see what you have.”

Mitchell winked at Rocco and stepped out on the stage. The bright lights blinded her, shining up into her eyes. She counted them as a blessing. What she couldn’t see couldn’t hurt her, could it? Hopefully, she wouldn’t spot anyone she knew out there.

As she danced across the stage, Robin Thicke’s song Blurred Lines blasted through the speakers. Hesitant at first, Mitchell stared out at the crowd, glad she couldn’t see the individual faces. But this dance really wasn’t for them. She’d convinced Rocco that she was a professional club dancer and she could hold her own on the dance floor. If she wanted to remain in the bar and get closer to Rocco, she had to put her money where her mouth was and dance.

Pushing back her shoulders, she strutted across to center stage where a pole stretched from floor to ceiling. She wrapped both hands around the pole and dropped to her haunches, her knees flaring out on either side of the hard metal, her pelvis pumping in rhythm to the song.

Hoots from the men in the audience emboldened her and she raised her hips, her hands low on the pole until her ass stuck up in the air, her butt cheeks probably glistening in the lighting with all the glitter she’d sprinkled over them. Straightening, she wrapped a leg around the pole and leaned back, giving them a good flash of boobs.

More hooting and dollars flew onto the stage.

She spun, dropped her leg and arched her back to the pole, dropping into a squat, her knees wide, giving the men a good view of her crotch. This display of blatant sexuality for money made her skin crawl. It went against everything she’d worked so hard to overcome in her life. As an NCIS agent, she’d taken all kinds of crap from men. But this undercover operation was completely off the books. Even Barry didn’t know what she was attempting.

And she wouldn’t be doing it, if they’d assigned a better agent to investigate Lt. Kelli O’Neal’s disappearance.

Kelli had been her friend and roommate when Mitchell went through the Naval Academy. Though they’d gone their separate ways after graduation, they’d kept in touch.

Mitchell completed her four years’ active duty and had taken a position with NCIS, gone to Quantico for training, and had been assigned to the Little Creek field office.

When Kelli had gotten orders for Norfolk Naval Base, Mitchell had been happy to see her friend move to the area. The timing couldn’t have been better. She’d come two months after Derek’s death and had helped her through the grief of Derek’s loss, and her guilt over sleeping with his best friend the night of Derek’s funeral.

Then two weeks ago, Kelli disappeared. Vanished. She’d been reported AWOL from her duty station and NCIS had been contacted to conduct the investigation. Because Mitchell was a close friend, the case had gone to Brendan Wallace.

Mitchell hadn’t been satisfied with how slow he was moving. The longer Kelli was missing, the lower the chance of them finding her. After numerous attempts to get Brendan to work faster, she’d gone to Barry and asked him to oversee the investigation personally. He’d stepped in all right. But he’d told her she was interfering with the case, and if she didn’t back off, he’d put her on administrative leave.

Knowing she was too close to the victim, Mitchell couldn’t help feeling Brendan wasn’t looking at the case from the right angle. She’d gotten into the files and reviewed the witness testimony and none of the statements added up.

As far as she was concerned, time was running out for Kelli. If she didn’t do something soon, her friend might be lost forever, maybe even dead. So she’d asked for leave and started her own investigation.

Which led to this bar. A bar Kelli would never have stepped foot into—at least, willingly. But the man Kelli had been seeing just happened to own it—Rocco Hatch.

Mitchell glanced to where she’d left the man standing backstage. Rocco wasn’t there. She rose to her feet, swiveled her hips and rocked them, suggestively soliciting more wolf calls and dozens of hands in the air waving dollar bills.

Rocco stood at the bar, away from the frenetic shouts of the young men lining the stage. He expected her to act like a stripper. To get close enough for the men to stuff money into the strings holding up her bottoms and into the bra of her top. She was glad for the leggings, even if they had holes all the way up her thighs and over her hips; the garment gave the men more places to tuck money. The crisscrossing strings holding her leotard together at the front also held her bra in place. No one could easily rip it off her and she wouldn’t be expected to strip all the way down to nothing. When applying for the job, she’d emphasized she was a dancer. “I don’t take off my clothes in public,” she’d said and winked. “I save that for the privacy of a bedroom.”

To prove that fact to Rocco, she danced toward the edge of the stage, turned and dropped to her haunches, exposing her bottom to the nearest men. Hands groped her ass and tucked money anywhere they could.

Fighting to keep from slugging them, she pretended to enjoy the attention and straightened as soon as she could without looking as if she was running away. Before she could walk back to center stage, she felt big hands grab her hips and drag her backward.

A gasp escaped. She teetered on her heels, lost her balance and felt herself falling into the sea of male faces.

Young men, short haircuts, and bulging muscles spelled military. And all yelling at once, all horny, all groping for their ounce of flesh.

“Hey, baby, over here.”

“I could use some of that.”

“Whew, mamma. That’s what I’m talking about!”

One voice stood out among the rest.

“Mitchell?” Navy SEAL Remy LaDue’s face swam into view before she was lifted and slammed into the broad wall of a chest belonging to a man who could have wrestled gorillas at the local zoo. He leered down at her and reached for one of her breasts.

A fist flew at his jaw and landed with a bone-rattling thud. The ape barely reacted, his hand grabbing a handful of her right boob and squeezing hard.

Mitchell fought to get her feet under her while prying at the massive paw clutching her. “Let go of me,” she demanded.

“Finders keepers,” the big guy said, his voice deep enough to lead ships through foggy waters.

Based on his long hair and big gut, he wasn’t one of the military men.

Mitchell bit her lip. Military men, she could handle. But a big, hulking redneck, now that was another situation entirely.

“The lady asked you to let go,” Remy’s voice sounded above the noise of the crowd.

“I will, when I’m good and ready.” The gorilla grinned stupidly and squeezed her like a stress ball. “I’m not ready.”

“Let her dance,” a man shouted behind him.

“Yeah, let her dance,” another sailor yelled.

The room erupted in a chant of “Let her dance!”

Rocco’s bouncers muscled their way through the crowd of men. Before they could reach her, Remy kicked the gorilla in the knee. The man loosened his hold long enough for Mitchell to get away. With the help of the men in the crowd, she was lifted back up on the stage, a few dollars heavier and with a bruised breast.

The music switched to the Katy Perry song, Peacock.

A group of men lifted Remy out of the crowd as well and handed him up on edge of the stage in a straight back chair. The chant started again, with “Lap dance!” Soon, the entire club had taken up the chant.

Remy sat in the chair, his brows drawn together in a severe frown. Every time he tried to rise from the chair, someone jerked him back onto his butt.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he shouted over the music.

Mitchell shot a glance to the point she’d last seen Rocco. His brows had dipped as low as Remy’s and he was following the bouncers through the crowd, making little headway among the rowdy SEALs.

Knowing she only had a moment to get her message across, she danced over to Remy, straddled his legs and gave him the lap dance the men demanded. She leaned forward, shaking her breasts in his face. “Grab my ass. Look like you’re enjoying it, for Pete’s sake!”

She smiled and rubbed her breasts across his face, then bent to nibble at his ear and said in a voice only Remy could hear, “You don’t know me. I’m undercover here. Don’t make a scene.”

When she started to get up, she felt him grab her hips and hold her in his lap. That’s the spirit. Mitchell winked at him and ground her bottom against his groin, pretending to ride him like a stallion. “Yeehaw!” When she bent forward, she whispered, “Please, don’t blow my cover.”

Remy said with a low growl, “I won’t stand by and let someone maul you.”

“At least look like you’re having fun, damn it.” She arched her back and let her long curly hair drape down over his knees.

A second later, Remy buried his face in her cleavage while gripping her bottom.

Heat flared between her legs, her crotch grinding against the hardness of his erection. God, it had been too long since she’d made love to a man. Too long.

As his head came up, he smiled, his gaze direct and intense. “Meet me at the back door when you get off work.”

By that time, Rocco and the bouncers had pushed through the men and climbed up on the stage.

With a flippant smile, she winked. “It’ll cost you, baby.” Mitchell rose, turned and bent to touch her toes, shining her bottom in Remy’s face before dancing away. She trailed her fingers across the first bouncer’s chest and paused at Rocco, cupping his cheek. Then she patted it, forced a sultry smile and returned to center stage where she hooked her leg around the pole, and arched her back, her arms above her head, her gaze following Remy off the stage.

Holy shit!

She’d come so close to blowing everything she’d worked for the past twenty-four hours.

Though joy surged at Remy’s reappearance after more than a year, dread tempered her happiness. If he knew what she was up to, he’d go all macho and refuse to let her go through with her plan. She had to talk to him. But she knew she was being watched and Rocco would be close, following her every move. The man hadn’t gotten away with the horrible things he’d done by being careless.

Chapter Two

‡

Remy had gone to dinner with his teammates, glad for the good food after months of MREs in the sandbox. He’d almost passed on the strip club, but the thought of returning to an empty apartment when he’d had such high hopes for the night was too much to consider. So he’d gone to the Naughty Ladies Lounge and watched as the guys made fools of themselves over the women dancing, drooling over the women waving their asses and boobs in their faces.

He almost hadn’t recognized Mitchell when she’d come on stage. She’d bleached her straight hair a much lighter shade of blond and made it kinky curly. What had thrown him most was the thick makeup disguising her eyes. She appeared to be an entirely different woman. Not until he’d seen the tattoo of a rose on her left hip had he known for certain. Thank goodness, none of the others put CC Hart and the down-to-earth, girl-next-door Mitchell Sanders together.

“Hey, this place is shutting down in thirty minutes.” Irish stopped in front of his table. “The guys want to hit an all-night diner before we go sleep it all off. You comin’?”

Remy stood and stretched. “No, I’m still full from dinner. I’m headed home.” Not a complete lie. He was headed home. After he had a talk with Mitchell. And if all went well, maybe he’d bring her along. “See you guys tomorrow, sometime.”

“You gonna watch the game with us?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Irish touched his shoulder. “Sorry things didn’t work out with Mitchell.”

Remy shrugged. “Yeah. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“How are you getting home?”

“I’m going to walk for a while and catch a cab when I get tired.”

Irish’s brows rose. “You sure? This isn’t the best part of town to be hoofin’ it alone.”

“Thanks. But I can handle myself. And I need the air.”

Irish, Fish, Nacho, Swede and Dustman jostled each other as they left the club, each talking about their favorite dancer and wishing they’d gotten phone numbers.

Following them out of the bar, Remy headed down the sidewalk, pretending he was walking home. When his buddies drove past hooting and hollering, he waved, slowing his steps until they were out of sight and switched back.

He leaned against the corner of a building, sticking to the shadows, and watched the door to the lounge as customers exited, and the bouncer closed the door behind the last one.

When the neon lights blinked off, Remy left his corner and rounded to the back of the club and hid behind a large trash bin, out of sight of anyone leaving. And he waited for Mitchell.

Several ladies, dressed in jeans and lightweight jackets or sweaters left the building in a group, hurrying toward their respective vehicles and calling out good nights to each other as they climbed in.

A lone woman stepped out of the back of the building, pulling up the collar of her leather jacket around her neck. She glanced left, then right and back over her shoulder before stepping out, walking with a determined gait.

From where he stood, with nothing but a dark body moving through the gloom to go on, Remy could tell the women was Mitchell. He’d watched her so often from a distance when she’d dated Derek that he knew the subtle sway of her hips, the way she walked with her shoulders back and her long legs eating up the distance. She wasn’t very tall, but she walked tall, and looked sexy as hell.

Though moving forward, Mitchell kept looking back over her shoulder. When she came abreast of his position, she spoke in a low voice, “Fall in step with me and pretend you’re purchasing my services. We’ll be followed.”

Remy started to turn, fists clenched, ready.

Mitchell hooked his arm and led him toward her vehicle. “Don’t look back, just walk.”

His arm tensed in hers and he whispered, “What the hell is going on?”

“I’ll tell you later. Get in.” She hit the key fob, unlocking the door to a car he didn’t recognize. One that looked like a rental.

Once inside, she leaned across the console, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Not a welcome back kiss, but a I-wanna-fuck-you kiss.

Taken off guard, Remy returned the kiss, his cock hardening instantly. He cupped her shoulders and held tight, blood pounding in his ears. For a few seconds he forgot it was all for show. He was kissing Mitchell and she was kissing him back. How many nights had he lain awake dreaming of a moment like this?

When she broke away, she touched her hand to her mouth, dragged in a deep breath and backed out of the parking space. She turned and pulled onto the main road, switching on the radio to rock music.

“Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

Flashing a smile, she raised a finger to her lips. “Just wait. You’ll have the best night your money can buy.”

Remy started to say something else. Before he could Mitchell turned up the radio louder.

While glancing her way, he noted headlights behind them. When Mitchell turned, the vehicle behind them turned. She’d said something about being followed. But by whom?

Maintaining the speed limit, Mitchell drove to a seedy motel in a shady part of town.

He glanced out the window and his gut clenched. The motel was the kind that rented by the hour, the neon sign was no longer lit, the tubes having burned out long ago. The only light shined through the dirty office window.

Mitchell parked in front. “Stay here. I’ll take care of everything.”

When he saw her getting out, Remy’s hand went to the door handle.

She bent and looked across the seat at him. “Please stay. I know what I’m doing.”

Not liking the situation at all, and with several questionable characters loitering in the shadows, Remy kept his hand on the door handle, ready to jump out and take care of business.

After a moment, Mitchell returned with a key to one of the rooms. She got in behind the wheel, drove to the end of the building and parked.

At the sight of her reaching for the door handle, Remy grabbed her arm. “We’re not going in there, are we?”

“It’s expected. We can talk once we’re inside. Please, play along.”

She grabbed her purse and climbed out, fitting the key in the door lock. The carpet was stained and the wallpaper was peeling, but the sheets looked clean, if a little threadbare.

He stomped into the room behind her. “Now, are you going to—”

“Wanna listen to some music, sweetie?” She pulled an IPod out of her purse, attached a mini speaker and set it on loud rock and roll music.

Past being patient, he gripped Mitchell’s arms. “Tell me what’s going on now.”

Pulling him close, she wrapped her arms around him and nibbled his ear. “Mmm, you smell good,” she said in a loud voice and then whispered, “I’m working undercover to get close to Rocco Hatch.” Mitchell reached for the hem of his shirt. “I need him to think I’m a working girl, if you know what I mean.” She lifted his shirt up over his head and dropped it on the bed. “He’s very cagey and seems to know more than a casual observer. I think he has his own surveillance equipment and he doesn’t let anyone close to him.”

“I don’t like this.” He planted his hands on her hips, needing the connection.

“You don’t have to.” In a louder voice, she announced, “It’s one hundred for a quick fuck. You have to pay me upfront.”

“What the—”

“Pay or we don’t play.” She held out her hand, her brows rising.

Feeling as if he’d stepped into a bizarre dream, Remy pulled out his wallet, extracted a one-hundred-dollar bill and handed it to her.

“Now the fun begins.” She shimmied out of her jacket and tossed it over a chair, then moved to the music much as she’d dance that night on the stage.

Despite the strangeness of the situation, Remy couldn’t stop his body’s reaction to her. She wore a low-cut rib knit blouse, short, tight skirt and high heels. It was the heels that had him. They made her long legs even longer and sexier.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m not liking it.” Well, he did, but that very fact bothered him.

“You think I like playing the whore?” She pushed him backward until his knees bumped into the bed and then attacked his belt buckle. “At least, I’m not doing this with a stranger.”

“Why are you doing this?”

After unbuttoning his jeans, she slid them down his legs, helped him out of his boots, then jeans and straightened.

Fully naked now, his cock stuck straight out, hard as fuckin’ nails and ready for whatever game she was playing, as long as it ended up inside her.

“Say something sexy and loud enough to be heard over the music,” she said as she nibbled his earlobe, yet again.

Sexy? His mind went blank and the only thing he could think of was, “Want some of this baby?” He lowered a hand to his cock and hefted it.

Mitchell laughed. “Really?”

Remy dragged her against him, wincing at the pressure. “I’m at a disadvantage here. I don’t know what you’re up to. I don’t like being kept in the dark, and I really don’t like the fact that someone might be listening in.”

“Sorry. But you walked right into my operation.”

“If you’re in an operation, where is your backup?”

“There’s the problem.” She bit her lip, pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips. Then she slid her skirt up over her ass, and tugged off that darned G-string that had been under her less-than-there leotard earlier. “I don’t actually have a backup,” she whispered. Louder, she said, “You got some protection, honey?” Leaning over the edge of the mattress, she reached into his jeans pocket, removed his wallet and plucked out a condom packet. Her voice dropped below the music volume. “And this isn’t a sanctioned operation.” Sliding the condom over his dick, she tossed the foil packet to the floor. “Now, big boy, fuck me like you mean it.”

Mitchell rose up on her knees and sank down over him, poised to take him inside. Her gaze connected with his and held. “No, really, make love to me like I’m a bought-and-paid-for whore.”

Despite the circumstances, which he wasn’t happy about, Remy couldn’t deny his body’s reaction to hers. Hell, what red-blooded male would? With the tip of his cock nudging her entrance, he could barely breathe, much less think. “I didn’t picture this night ending like this.”

“Me either, but I had to talk to you. The only way I could and look legit to Hatch was to do you. Now, do it.”

Chapter Three

‡

When Mitchell had first heard Remy’s voice in the crowd, she’d almost lost her focus. Over a year had passed since that horrible night when she’d temporarily lost her mind and made love to him.

She still hadn’t forgiven herself for her brief lapse in judgment. Derek had loved her, had expected to come back from deployment to marry her. The whole time he’d been gone, she’d pretended everything was all right. But it wasn’t. She’d loved Derek… but not like he’d wanted her to. Her feelings for him had been less and less lover-like and more and more brotherly. As dumb as that description sounded, that was how she’d felt.

Knowing how difficult their missions were and the dangers they faced in the deserts of Afghanistan, she couldn’t tell him over email, Skype or text. She’d waited, knowing that when he got back, and as soon as he was rested up, she’d tell him she couldn’t marry him. Derek was a damned good guy and he deserved a woman who loved him with all her heart as a lover.

The problem was, she’d been attracted to Remy, and not in any way, shape or form in a brotherly fashion. No, she’d wanted to have hot, raunchy sex with him, to ride him like a stallion and make love to him until neither of them could see straight, and then do it all over again.

Nothing about her break-up with Derek was going to be easy. And she really didn’t think she’d stand a snowball’s chance in hell with Remy once she broke his best buddy’s heart. During her lowest moments, she’d actually wished Derek were out of the way so she could pursue Remy without guilt.

Then Remy had come back with Derek in a body bag.

The shock had been instant and complete. Derek couldn’t die. She really did love him and hadn’t wanted him dead. The reality was like losing the brother she’d never had, a family member she treasured, and he’d been such a nice guy, deserving a long happy life.

Guilt warred with grief as she watched them lower his body into the ground. His parents had been there, his mother sobbing and inconsolable. And Mitchell had stood silent throughout the eulogy, her heart sore, her chest aching with her loss.

Remy had been at her side. He’d put his arm around her and she’d leaned into his body, needing the warmth and strength he represented.

When he’d driven her home, he’d offered to sit with her, to be with her until she didn’t need him.

In something of a trance, she’d led him into her apartment, sat with him on the couch and wrapped her arms around him. The next thing she knew, she was kissing him, unbuttoning his shirt and stripping her dress off her shoulders.

She’d shimmied out of the dress, panties and bra and straddled him on the couch. For a moment, he’d hesitated, opening his mouth to say something.

Mitchell hadn’t let him, refusing to break the trance and face reality. She slid down over him, taking him into her, as if by filling her so intimately, the act would fill the gaping maw created by their shared loss.

For a short time, she forgot they’d been at a funeral, forgot her boyfriend had died, and forgot that making love to his best friend before the grave had time to settle was wrong.

But damn it, Derek hadn’t come back to give her the opportunity for the closure she’d so badly needed. Angry at him for dying, she wasn’t thinking straight. She wanted to hurt him for leaving her and she wanted to forget the pain.

When she took Remy inside her body, tears spilled down her cheeks. Angry at herself for giving in to grief, she drove her body faster, harder, her fingernails digging into Remy’s skin.

They’d made love on the couch, their joining, hot, desperate and uncontrolled. She’d begged him to spank her, knowing she deserved to be punished for giving in to her baser desires after burying the man she was supposed to love.

When making love on the couch wasn’t enough, she’d dragged him to his feet. Still hard, wet and throbbing, Remy had bent, scooped her up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Mitchell and Remy did it in the living room, against the wall on the way to the bedroom and finally collapsed into the bed where he’d slowed the pace and caressed every part of her body with a gentleness she didn’t deserve. By the time he came inside her, she was crying again, silent tears, streaming down her cheeks.

He rolled to his side and gathered her close, holding her until her sobs subsided and she came to her senses.

Then she’d booted him out of her bed and her apartment and refused to see him, the guilt too much to bear. A year had gone by and the guilt had faded. One day, she’d answered an email from Remy. He’d texted her and she hadn’t deleted it. Soon they were talking electronically and on his last deployment, she’d emailed him every day.

She’d let herself believe they might finally get past Derek’s death and the terrible thing they’d done. They’d gone so far as to promise each other that if they didn’t have a date for Valentine’s Day, they’d go out together.

Mitchell knew she wouldn’t have a date. She hadn’t been seeing anyone in the year since Derek’s death. But Remy was a very attractive, sexual man with needs. She couldn’t expect him to go a year without dating someone on redeployments stateside. Still a slim hope that he’d call when he returned from deployment had remained firmly rooted in her mind.

Then a week ago, Kelli had disappeared and her boss had given the case to an incompetent ass. Mitchell had to go rogue undercover in hope of saving her friend.

Now she was trying to salvage a mission she’d assigned herself, and Remy was there, holding her, sliding his throbbing cock into her. Sometimes she thought fate was playing cruel games with her life.

As she sank over him, her memories of the last time they were together ebbed and flowed though her. Her body knew his as if their one night together had only been yesterday.

She lifted his hands to her breasts and arched her back, pressing them into his palms. If she let herself, she could almost forget that one of the most formidable mobsters was outside their door, with listening and infrared devices, checking her out, making certain she was who she said she was. A whore, who’d take money for sex.

Mitchell rode Remy, the firm thickness filling her; the added danger of her situation made her even more turned on than she could imagine. That someone could actually see the heat images of her and Remy getting it on made her pussy tighten.

Remy stilled, his hands on her hips, then he lifted her off him and flipped her onto her back, coming up over her. He leaned down. “Do you really think he’d be watching us?”

“Yes.” Mitchell wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “He doesn’t let anyone close, and he checks out all of his dancers.”

His brow wrinkled in a frown and he paused in mid-thrust. “Why?”

“I think he’s responsible for some of the women who’ve gone missing from the Virginia Beach area. I think he’s either selling them or drugging them and forcing them into prostitution.” She tightened her legs around him. “Don’t stop. We have to make this look convincing.”

Resuming his pace, Remy moved in and out of her, his dick hard, thick and long.

“Oh, yes!” she cried loudly, in case Hatch or his henchmen were listening into her session with Remy. “Fuck me, baby. Harder!”

“Do you like to play rough, little girl?” Remy popped her thigh with a cupped palm. The sound was much louder than the pain, the sting setting off electrical currents throughout her body.

“Yeah, baby. Do it again,” she cried, only half-acting now. She liked it when he played rough. Derek had been tame, too gentle and unimaginative in bed, treating her like a porcelain doll, rather than a hot-blooded woman with needs and desires more kinky than most.

Mitchell had always been tough. Her father had been a big influence in her life. She’d never done anything half-assed and always liked to play rough with the guys.

“Ride me, baby. Give it to me hard,” she said in a breathy voice.

He leaned over her and kissed the side of her neck. “Really? You want it rougher?”

She grasped his face in her hands and kissed him, capturing his lips between her teeth and pulling. “You’re the john, make it real.”

He sucked in a breath and blew it out. “You got it.” He reached behind him, unlocked her legs from around his waist and pulled free.

“Where ya going, honey—”

Before she could say more, he flipped her onto her belly and dragged her ass up into the air. “You want it rough, here it is.” Holding her hips in his big hands, he slammed his cock into her pussy, driving deep.

Her face buried in the sheets, she gasped. “Yeah!”

“Like that?” He pulled almost all the way out and slapped her bottom. “Tell me how you like it.”

“Hard. So very hard.”

“Beg for it.”

“Please,” she called out. “Please, let me have it.”

Remy slapped her bottom again.

The pain was deliciously sexy as he rammed his big cock into her tight channel. Her muscles contracted around him. “Please. Do it again,” she cried.

“I’ll give it to you,” he said, bending over her and grabbing her breasts as he took her from behind.

He moved inside her again and again until her nerves stretched to the screaming point, her body tensed and she came apart, shattering into a million pieces.

Remy thrust again, his fingers tightening on her breasts as he buried himself as deep as he could go. His body shuddered, his dick pulsing against her inner walls. He was breathing hard when he finally loosened his grip on her boobs. “Did you like that?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, big guy.” She stretched out beneath him and he lay on top of her for a moment before drawing free of her and rolling to his side on the bed.

“As good as it was, I have to be going.” She popped up and rolled off the side of the bed to her feet.

“That’s it? That’s all I get?” he asked, stretching out an arm.

Mitchell leaned over him and whispered in his ear, “I’ll come by your place later, after I ditch my tail.”

He pulled her down on top of him, his hand roving over her curves. “Are you sure you’ll be safe?”

“If you don’t see me in an hour, call my boss, tell him Hatch has me and send the cavalry.” She cupped his cheek. “One fuck. That’s all you get for your money, sweetheart.”

Remy ground his teeth as Mitchell drove to the nearest twenty-four-hour convenience store.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

He snorted. “You’re asking me?”

She dropped him off and drove away without looking back. The car that had been following her parked across the street from the convenience store. Remy went inside, purchased a candy bar and a bottle of water, hoping they’d leave before he came out of the store.

When he walked out, the car was still on the street. Glad they hadn’t followed Mitchell, Remy was still annoyed they were watching him. Good. Let them.

He walked away from the convenience store, not really caring which way he headed, more testing whether they’d continue to follow him than anything.

They did, inching along the street behind him. At the next corner, he turned and walked faster, ditching his cell phone and wallet next to a bush. If they caught him with them, the data inside could lead them to his apartment and possibly to Mitchell if she really did show up later.

The street he was on wasn’t as well-lit as the one the convenience store was on. Remy knew he was taking a chance, but he wanted to get a feel for what he was up against, and who these people were following Mitchell.

As he predicted, the vehicle turned the corner behind him. They weren’t even trying to hide the fact they were following him. When they slid to a stop beside him, he figured confrontation was next on their list. Two men jumped out onto the sidewalk.

“Hey, you,” the bigger guy said.

Remy recognized him as one of the bouncers from the club. He figured he had two choices. Run and save his hide a possible beating, or stand his ground and find out what they wanted. He could probably take both of them. Bigger didn’t always mean better.

Wanting to appear compliant, he raised his hands. “Look, I’m just walking home. I don’t want any trouble.”

The two guys grabbed his arms and slammed him up against the brick wall of the building behind him.

“I told you, I don’t want any trouble. I’ve got a twenty-dollar bill in my wallet.” He didn’t resist their holds and kept his gaze downcast. “If you’re gonna mug me, take it and let me go.”

“We don’t want your money.”

While the bigger man held him, the smaller one frisked him, patting down his body, checking his back pocket for his wallet. “Where’s your wallet?”

“In my back pocket.”

“Try again, moron.”

“Fuck. I must have left it at the store.” He struggled half-heartedly. “Let me go. I have to go back to the store and get it before some dumbass finds it.”

“Your problem, not ours.” The smaller of two goons pressed his elbow against Remy’s throat. “What do you know about the bitch you were just fucking?”

Remy ground his teeth together and clenched his fists tight to hold onto his temper. They were talking about Mitchell and he didn’t like the way they were doing it. But this was her operation and her cover to portray a stripper and a whore. Tamping down his rage, he grinned. “If that’s all you wanted, why are you jacking me up? What do you want to know? How much she charged me? Was she good?” He narrowed his eyes. “Or are you her pimp and want to know if she’s on the up and up, giving you your cut?”

“How do you know her?”

“I picked her up at the club.” He attempted a shrug against their grasp. “Hell, if I’d known I’d get roughed up, I’d have passed. I mean she was good and all that, but not worth this.”

“Back at the club, you acted like you knew her.”

Remy snorted. “I thought I did. She reminded me of my ex-girlfriend. The bitch took all my stuff. She still owes me. You think I’d have paid her for sex if she still owed me? Fuck, no.”

“You from the navy base?” the talking goon asked.

“Yeah. Just back from deployment, looking for some release, if you know what I mean. Surrounded by guys for months, makes a man…you know.”

“Do yourself a favor and stay away from CC.”

“Why?” He widened his eyes and snapped his gaze between the guys. “Oh crap, does she have some STDs or something?”

The arm under his chin pressed harder until Remy could barely breathe. If he had to, he could fight his way out of this. But he resisted, playing the part of some dumb GI with a hard on and no brain cells.

“Just stay away from her.”

“All right, all right. You’ve made you point.”

The men let go of his arms, backed away and climbed into their vehicle.

As the doors opened and the overhead light blinked on, Remy caught a glimpse of a listening device like spies and private investigators used to creep on people. And if he wasn’t mistaken, a pair of high-powered night vision goggles lay beside the listening device on the front seat. Whoever could afford to buy those kinds of toys must have a lot at stake.

The doors shut behind the goons and the car swept away, spitting gravel from beneath the tires. Remy shook off his nerves and anger and started back toward the convenience store. When the vehicle turned another corner, he scooped up his wallet and cell phone and called a cab to pick him up at the store.

Adrenaline pumping and ready to smash some heads, he had to talk himself down before the cab got there. Every instinct inside him had wanted to break bones. Preferably of the men who’d manhandled him, looking for information on Mitchell.

What bothered him most was, even though Mitchell was tough and could probably hold her own one-on-one with a man, she couldn’t defend herself against these two men if they decided to rough her up.

What the hell had Mitchell gotten herself into?

Chapter Four

‡

Mitchell headed for the apartment she’d rented in the same rundown building where Dixie Lee lived. After a few blocks, she knew she was no longer being followed. Which meant Remy was. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. She worried about making him a target of Hatch’s thugs, and almost turned around to head back to the store to check on him.

As she slowed to turn into a parking lot, she thought of Kelli. If Mitchell went back to help Remy, who most likely could take care of himself, she could blow her hard-earned cover and Kelli would be lost. Time was not on Kelli’s side. Strengthening her resolve, Mitchell reminded herself that Remy was a trained combatant. SEALs were not only strong, but smart. They knew how to get out of tight situations, using any means they had to. If he wasn’t at his apartment when she got there, she’d alert his team and they’d help her find him.

Taking the longest possible route, checking and double-checking her rearview mirror, she eventually pulled onto a street two blocks from the apartment complex where Remy lived. The same place he’d shared with Derek until Derek’s death. She hadn’t been there when he’d cleared Derek’s personal effects. She supposed he’d shipped them all to Derek’s parents in Pennsylvania. At the funeral, they’d been devastated by his death and opened their arms to her in their grief.

After sleeping with Remy, Mitchell had cut all ties with Derek’s folks, guilt driving her away.

In the year since Derek’s passing, she’d driven by the apartment complex several times, tempted to break her vow to stay clear of Remy. Once, she’d actually stopped and climbed the stairs to his unit. His neighbor had been in the hallway and told her that Remy had been deployed. Then they’d started emailing and texting.

Time and distance had done nothing to ease the ache in her heart or the desire she’d harbored all that time. Their conversations had been about nothing, but the communication had meant everything and they’d grown closer with each letter.

Last month, she’d agreed to do an online video chat. Seeing him again resurrected all the same feelings she’d had before, if not more intensely. Remy had looked thinner, the lines around his eyes more pronounced, and the smudges beneath his eyes darker. But he was still the ruggedly handsome SEAL she remembered and had accidentally fallen in love with when she’d been his best friend’s girl.

Parking her rental car in an empty lot, she climbed out and ducked into the shadows. She checked all directions before striking out for Remy’s apartment, taking the short cut through an alley and pushing through hedges to emerge in the apartment complex’s parking lot.

Forty-five minutes after she’d dropped him off, she knocked softly on his door and waited. Her heart rate kicked up a notch and she glanced over her shoulder. The hallway was empty but she hated feeling exposed. Using the key Derek had given her so long ago, she inserted it into the lock and turned it. The door opened. She slipped inside and eased the door closed softly.

The only light in the room shone through the front window from the security light in the apartment building’s parking lot.

Just to be safe, Mitchell performed a quick search. Remy wasn’t there, nor was anyone else. And from the looks of the empty spare bedroom, he hadn’t taken another roommate since Derek.

Crossing to the large picture window in the living room, she stood to the side and peered through the blinds at the lot below. Ten minutes passed and Mitchell paced the living room, bit off a fingernail and returned to the window, unsure at what point she should call it and bring in the rest of his team. Maybe she was being paranoid, but Hatch had a lot of bad people working for him. Remy was capable of taking care of himself, but against how many?

Resigned to waiting another ten minutes, she paced the room several more times. Nearing the end of the second ten minutes, she stared down at the parking lot and out past it to the street beyond. She could see all the way to the next street corner. A cab with its yellow light on top slowed at the entrance to the parking lot.

Mitchell held her breath and prayed the vehicle held Remy. When the cab drove by, she swore beneath her breath. It looked as though she’d have to call on his buddies to go bail him out of the mess she’d gotten him into.

From her position on the second floor, Mitchell could see the cab turn down the next street. The brake lights glowed bright red and the vehicle stopped. A moment later, the brake lights dimmed and the cab moved on.

Her heart beating faster, Mitchell leaned closer to the window. Something moved in the shadows, heading toward the apartment complex. At one point, a dark figure detached itself from the corner of a fence, crossed to the apartment building and disappeared from her view.

Mitchell closed the blinds, moved away from the window and waited, all her concentration focused on the front door. Butterflies erupted in her belly and her breathing grew shallow. She rubbed her palms on her skirt, amazed at how damp they were.

Though she’d made love with him only an hour before, seeing him without the threat of Hatch’s men lurking nearby was like seeing him for the first time in over a year. Before Kelli had disappeared, she’d dreamed of their reunion. In her imagination, the event was nothing like the reality. God, had she really asked him to play the john to her prostitute? As the full impact of the situation hit her, her cheeks burned.

Metal scraping metal made her jump and she pressed a hand to her chest, as if that would slow her racing heart. She edged back into a corner and dropped behind the couch. If the person on the other side of the door wasn’t Remy…

The door swung open and a tall dark, broad-shouldered figure stepped in. By the way he moved with purpose and determination, he could be none other than Remy LaDue.

Suddenly reluctant to break the silence, Mitchell remained crouched behind the arm of the couch.

The door swung shut, he twisted the lock and then reached for the light switch.

Mitchell stood. “Don’t.”

His arm, arrested in mid-motion, dropped to his side. “No one followed me.”

“Humor me. I can’t afford to be careless.” She stepped out into the open. “Can we talk in the bedroom? It’s as far from the street as we can get and there are no front-facing windows in there.”

“Fine. But I want the full scoop. Everything.”

“Fair enough.” She led the way into his room.

Remy followed and closed the door behind him. “Can I switch on the light in here?”

“Of course.”

The click of a switch sounded and the room was flooded with soft lighting from the ceiling fan hanging over the bed.

Mitchell blinked, squinting in the sudden glare.

Remy leaned his back against the door, crossing his arms. “Okay. Start talking.”

With a deep breath, Mitchell began.

After fifteen minutes of detailing out all she’d done to position herself in Hatch’s organization, Mitchell stopped and stared up at Remy.

His gut twisted and Remy’s fists clenched. “You’re setting yourself up to be hurt or killed.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I know. But I couldn’t let Kelli languish in whatever hell Hatch has her in. I’ve seen what happens to women who are forced into prostitution. They’re drugged, sometimes chained to filthy beds in the nastiest, bug-ridden, diseased places imaginable. I was in on an operation that exposed a small sex den nine months ago. One of the women had died chained to the bed. She’d been shot up so many times and overdosed after being raped by who knows how many men. If Kelli is in a place like that…” She shook her head. “I couldn’t live with myself if I stood back and did nothing.”

“What exactly is your plan?”

“You’re not going to like this.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out, then stated, “I’m the bait.”

Remy’s blood pressure shot up. “No fuckin’ way.”

She stepped close and laid a hand on his arm. “Hear me out. Multiple agencies have suspected human trafficking was going on in this area. In the past six months, at least one woman a month had disappeared. Two college coeds, a couple of prostitutes and some teen-aged girls known to have a drug habit.

“A week ago, a friend of mine became the seventh woman that we know of who has disappeared. Navy Lt. Kelli O’Neal was reported AWOL from duty at Norfolk Navy Base. I’d had dinner with her the Friday before she didn’t show up for work on Monday. They got NCIS involved because Kelli is Navy but the case was handed to an imbecile, Brendan Wallace.”

“Why not you?”

“Because she was my friend, and I couldn’t be objective.”

“Who would have more incentive?”

“My point exactly.” A hand slapped her chest. “I knew how important it was to move quickly. In missing persons’ cases, the longer they are missing, the more likely the trail will go cold. Brendan was moving too slow, so I did some checking on the side, ran the stats through the crime databases and discovered the pattern of missing women. Hit up a few contacts in the FBI and found out they’d been looking into the possibility of a human trafficking ring. They suspect Rocco Hatch, but have no solid evidence to substantiate. They’ve had a couple witnesses claim he was up to something, then the witnesses disappear, too.”

Remy pushed a hand through his hair. He knew how she felt about finding her friend. He’d have been as concerned if the missing had been one of his teammates or Mitchell. “Why don’t you turn over what you’ve found to Brendan and ask your supervisor to follow through?”

“I tried. He wants Brendan to do all of the legwork, starting with what I’d already done. He told me specifically to stay out of it, since I couldn’t remain objective and he didn’t want the evidence tainted if they had to take it to a trial.”

His lips quirking on the edges, Remy said, “I bet that went over well.”

Mitchell’s lips twisted. “Right. I told the boss that if I couldn’t at least assist on the case, I wanted to take two weeks of leave. He denied me access to the case, and granted my request for leave.”

“How did you come to the conclusion Hatch had anything to do with this?”

“The Friday before when we’d had dinner, she’d told me about this man she’d met, and what a gentleman he’d been. He’d taken her out to dinner at an expensive restaurant in his limousine and basically treated her like a princess.”

“And the man was Hatch?”

She nodded. “I warned Kelli to be cautious and not trust the man until she got to know him better.”

Remy’s mouth tightened. “Or not to trust them even when you know them well?”

“I also warned her not to rely completely on her own judgment.” Mitchell gave him a sad smile. “We all have regrets for decisions we’ve made. It’s how we learn and grow.”

Remy reached out to take her hand. “I’ve never regretted making love to you.”

Mitchell squeezed his hand. “Me either. But I have regretted the timing. It’s something I’ve had to live with. I still have a hard time forgiving myself.”

“I had hoped we’d have gotten past it by now.”

Mitchell held his hand a moment longer, then let it go and walked away. “Whatever is between you and me is secondary to getting back Kelli alive.”

“True.” Remy gave her the distance she needed, but he wasn’t done breaking past the wall of guilt she’d erected around herself. When they resolved their current situation, he’d take time to scale that wall or knock it down. “Go on.”

“Kelli is a damned good navy officer, but she can also be too trusting.” Mitchell paced the length of the room and back. “When she didn’t show up for duty, her commanding officer called me as her emergency contact. She doesn’t have any family. I’ve been to her apartment, questioned her neighbors and more or less canvassed the area before Brendan was even assigned the case.”

“What did you learn?”

“The last person to see her was the woman who lived in the apartment beneath hers. She saw Kelli leave to go jogging Saturday evening before sunset. She said that was Kelli’s usual routine. She’d jog before sunset and return right before dark. Only this time, she didn’t return.”

“Anything else?”

“I used my credentials to review some surveillance camera footage on prospective jogging routes leaving from her apartment. I found her jogging by a convenience store and that was about it.”

“Again, why Hatch?”

She glanced away and hesitated. “It’s not scientific, and hardly logical, but it’s a gut feeling.”

“That’s not much to go on.”

“Before I left my office at NCIS, I’d run a scan on him through the DMV and got an address. I staked out his home and followed him to the Naughty Ladies Lounge.” She shoved a hand through her hair. “I learned from neighboring business owners that he owned the club, and they weren’t too happy about him as a neighbor. Apparently, he has quite the reputation for strong-arming people to do what he wants.”

Remy’s fists clenched. “Nice company you’re keeping.”

“I didn’t want to start asking questions in the club and hit a stone wall, if his people were instructed to keep quiet about his affairs. I knew the only way I could get close enough to learn anything was to work for him. I auditioned yesterday. Tonight was my first night dancing at the club.”

Remy nodded at her clothes and hair. “Thus the disguise.”

“I couldn’t afford to be sloppy. Whoever is involved in the human trafficking chooses women who don’t have family close by, or who won’t be missed for a couple days. Most of the missing women were blond. I told him I was new to the area. When he asked about family, I said I didn’t have anyone holding me down or judging me.”

“What have you learned from the inside?”

“Not much.” She waved her hand in the air. “They’re all a bit close-mouthed with me being the new girl. There are a couple who look like they’ll share if I don’t seem like a threat. Hopefully, our …performance tonight…” her cheeks flushed a bright pink, “will lend credibility to my cover.”

“How did you know they’d use surveillance equipment? Which, by the way, they did have listening devices and night vision goggles.”

“You saw?” Her eyes widened and she moved closer. “They followed you, didn’t they?”

He nodded. “And they stopped me to ask questions about you.”

“Oh my god, Remy.” She touched his cheek. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

He cupped her hand over his cheek. “No, they didn’t hurt me. But they tried to scare me.”

Mitchell snorted. “You? I can’t imagine.”

“You’ve seen Hatch’s bouncers. They outweigh me by at least fifty pounds each.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it before saying, “Yeah, but they’re dumber than a bag of rocks.”

Remy smiled. “Yeah. I let them think they had me, and played the surprised customer. By the way, you owe me a hundred dollars.” Eyebrow crooked, he held out his hand.

“I’ll pay you back. For now, I need it in case Hatch demands a percentage.”

“So, is he your pimp?”

“I’m not sure what he is. All I know is that he’s bad. If he has Kelli locked up somewhere, she’s in a bad place. The sooner we find her, the better.”

“So how was this plan going to work if you were setting yourself up as bait with no back up?”

She dug in her purse, pulled out a paper and extended it. “I intended to drop this in the mail to my boss tomorrow and tell him that if he didn’t hear from me in a couple days to crank it up and look for me.”

He held the paper in his hand, glancing over a web URL and a password. “What’s this?”

“The website and passcode to the remote tracking device I had implanted under my skin.”

His body stiffened. “Sweet Jesus, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

She tried to take back the paper. “Let me have it, unless you plan on delivering it to my supervisor.”

“No way in hell. You can’t do this.” His jaw clenched and he let out a breath. “If Hatch is as bad as you think he is, who’s to say he won’t kill you if he so much as suspects you of being anything but what you’ve told him?”

“If I don’t do something, Kelli might die, or worse.” She stared into Remy’s eyes. “If one of your teammates was in trouble, would you leave it up to someone else to bail him out?”

“No, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be the Lone Ranger and ride into the middle of the snake pit without a backup plan.”

She lifted her chin. “I have a backup plan.”

“A letter in the mail.” Remy shook his head at the potential things that could go wrong. “What if it gets lost? What if you didn’t make it to the post office tomorrow?” He folded the paper and tucked it into his jeans pocket. “Now, hear this. You’re no longer alone on this insane operation.”

“I can’t ask you to be a part of it.”

“Sweetheart, seems like I already am.” He rested his hands on his hips and shot her a grin.

Mitchell’s gaze bored into Remy’s. “I didn’t mean to get you involved.”

“But now that I am, you’re stuck with me.”

“I can’t let you blow my cover.”

“I don’t plan on it, but I will be close by in case your plan goes south.”

“And what if they suspect you’re following me? You’re the only one with my information.”

“Have you forgotten? I have friends in low places.” He winked. “Besides, you were pretty damned hot on stage. All the more reason for a return visit to the Naughty Ladies Lounge.”

“I can’t ask you to involve your team.” She wrung her hands and paced across the floor before facing him again. “I’d never forgive myself if someone else is hurt because I’m breaking all the rules.”

“Again, you can’t do this on your own.” He drew her into his arms and held her close, smiling down at her. “Damn, you’re cute when you’re agitated.”

She swatted at his arms. “There’s nothing cute about this situation.”

His grin slipped. “I know you like to be tough and self-reliant, independent and all that, but sometimes you need the help of your friends. Do you think our team operations would go as well as they do if we went off individually guns ablazin’?” Remy shook his head. “BUDs training taught us that we work as a team and survive as a team.”

“Yeah, but that’s your team.”

“Well, now I’m part of your team.”

With a sigh, she leaned her cheek against his chest. “What if I’m wrong and Hatch isn’t responsible for Kelli’s disappearance?”

“Then we’ll think of something else.” He slid his hand down her back and up again. “The important thing is, you’re not in this alone anymore.”

“What about when you have to report back to duty?”

“Not to worry.” His grin returned. “We’re just back from deployment. We have two weeks off before reporting back to headquarters.”

“Two weeks.” She ran her hand over his chest. “Two weeks isn’t much to you and me. It could be a lifetime for Kelli.”

He nodded and pushed a strand of light curls behind her ear. “I never knew you could dance like you did tonight.”

Angling up her chin, she met his gaze, a smile playing around the corners of her lips. “We’ve never danced together.”

His heart squeezed. “Something I hope to remedy in the near future.”

Mitchell tapped his chest. “I never knew you had a kinky streak.”

“I could say the same.”

She sighed. “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”

“And yet, we ended up in bed together. Twice now.”

“Under unfortunate circumstances.”

“True, but is it wrong that I kind of liked what we did tonight?” Remy bent and scooped her up in his arms. “In fact, I might need a few pointers on the spanking part.”

Mitchell laughed and draped an arm around his neck. “I think you have that part down. My ass is still stinging.”

He rubbed his hand over the spot. “Really? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Only in the very best way.” She captured his face in both hands. “I wish you could have seen your face when I told you to fuck me.”

His jaw tightened. “I hope you hadn’t planned on taking another john to that hotel. Speaking of which…how did you even know it existed?”

“We’ve done investigations centered around it. And, for the record, I’d hoped to avoid taking anyone there, relying on my dirty dancing abilities rather than my slutty prostitute persona. But when you showed up and started to make a stink, I had to do something and fast.”

His hands tightened on her. “Better me than some asshole.”

“Look, Remy, this isn’t how I imagined our reunion. I’m not exactly sure what I thought it would be, but I didn’t plan on hopping right back in bed.” She brushed her lips across his. “But I’m glad it was you tonight.”

He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and pulled gently then let go. “I still get the feeling our timing is off.” He loved holding her, his fingers brushing the side of her breast, her smooth thighs draped over his forearms as he carried her toward his bed.

“In our lines of business is there ever a good time?” Mitchell smoothed a lock of his hair from his forehead.

As a SEAL, he wore it longer on deployment and had yet to cut it since he’d returned. He was glad he’d taken time to shave off his beard. “Tell me, Mitch. If Derek had lived, would there have been an us?”

Her eyelids drifted down over her eyes. “I had planned on breaking up with Derek after he’d returned from deployment.”

“Why? Derek was a great guy.”

“I know. I didn’t want to hurt him. That was what made it so hard, and why I waited for his return.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “I loved Derek, but I was beginning to think of him as a very good friend. Not a lover I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I knew I wasn’t right for him, and that he deserved to find someone who could love him with all her heart.”

Remy laid her on the bed, reluctant to slip his arms out from under her. “Derek died before you could tell him that. He was probably better off not knowing.” Remy shook his head. “And us?”

“I have to admit, part of the reason I wanted to break it off with Derek was because of you.” She stretched up and kissed him again. “I found myself attracted to Derek’s best friend. And I knew my feelings were wrong. Even if I broke it off with Derek, I couldn’t date you. It wouldn’t have been fair to Derek, and that would have put a strain on your friendship, as well.”

“You planned to walk away from both of us?” Remy slid onto the bed beside her, still fully clothed, watching the changing expressions on her face. He hated seeing her so sad.

Mitchell turned on her side, facing him. “I couldn’t give Derek false hope when he deserved more than I could give.”

“So the death of our friend freed you to see me.” His mouth twisted into a wry grin. “And we made love the night of his funeral. I can’t tell you how bad I felt, the guilt I carried for nearly half of this year.” He gripped her hand in his, unwilling to take it further, not with the full force of their year-old transgression still lingering between them.

Threading her fingers with his, she brought his hand to her cheeks. “A year is a long time to hold onto guilt and grief.” She guided his hand along the curve of her neck to the swell of her breast. “The last time we talked, I’d made up my mind to see you and take it from there. If we both could move past what happened the night of Derek’s funeral, I was ready.”

Hope swelled in Remy’s chest and the heat of her body filled his hand. He’d dreamed of the day when they could be free of Derek’s ghost. “I’d prayed for the same.”

Mitchell chuckled softly. “It’s past midnight.”

“And?”

Her eyes glittered. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“I have to admit it started out exciting.”

Seeing the melancholy leave her face left Remy’s heart lighter, some of the guilt receding to the far corners of his mind. He’d never forgive himself for dishonoring his best friend like he had. At the same time, he and Mitchell had been grieving his loss. Thus, the reason for seeking comfort in each other’s arms.

Comfort. He brushed his thumb across the fabric of her top.

Her nipples peaked beneath and her back arched, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand.

Remy’s groin tightened in response. “Where to from here?” he dared to ask.

“I’m thinking it’s pretty obvious.” With a sly smile, she dragged his hand lower to the juncture of her thighs. “We’ve shot past the awkward stage of feeling each other out, and gone straight to reunion sex.” His lips quirked. “I don’t know about you, but I found it pretty damned hot.”

Mitchell lifted the hem of her skirt and pressed his hand to the triangle of material covering her sex. “I figured you for the more dangerous, bad-boy type, which was one of the reasons I was so attracted to you, but I didn’t know you had a kinky side.”

His palm heated. He slid his hand beneath the silk of her panties, parting her folds to stroke the flesh between. “Neither did I.”

“Until tonight.” She pushed his hand lower, and with her finger, guided two of his into her warm, wet juices. “This time, we don’t have an audience.”

“Such a shame. I’ve discovered, I’m at my best on stage.” His cock already hard as a solid walnut board, he pressed it against their hands.

She gripped his zipper and dragged it down, his member springing free. Mitchell grasped it and slid her fingers along its length down to the base, rolling his balls between her knuckles. “I don’t see any difference in performance with or without the viewers.”

“Sweetheart, we haven’t even begun.” He rolled her onto her back and started at her lips, kissing, nipping and tonguing her mouth, then trailed down the smooth line of her jaw, the graceful length of her neck to the tops of her breasts. “Too many clothes,” he muttered. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it up over her head, loving the demi-bra she wore beneath, pushing her generous breasts into glorious mounds. He pressed a kiss to each and reached behind her to unzip the skirt he’d hiked up earlier. Though earlier the encounter had been all about the hot, visceral sex, now he wanted to see her. All of her naked body. All the time she’d been with Derek in the other room of their apartment, he’d lain in a heated sweat, imagining he was the one driving into her. He’d promised himself that if ever they were lovers, he’d make her scream.

He pictured Mitchell as a she-cat in bed. Aggressive, unashamed and willing to try different things, maybe even a little BDSM. He’d never heard her cry out with Derek.

Ripping the skirt down her legs, he dragged the panties down next and then sat back on his haunches staring down at her lithe, beautiful body, curvy in all the right places. His heart pounded.

She raised her arms above her head as her gaze swept over him, pausing at his engorged cock. “Are you going to make me beg?” Her blue eyes flared and a quickly indrawn breath made her chest rise.

“I might.”

“And, if I don’t, will you spank me like you did earlier?” She sucked in her lower lip.

“That’s a distinct possibility.” Then he planted his hands on either side of her and kissed her neck below her ear. “First, I want to make you as crazy as you make me.” He brushed his lips along the curve of her shoulder and skimmed the tips of her nipples before dropping lower. “I want to make you scream.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“That’s a promise.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

He chuckled, his breath warming the skin beneath her breasts as he inched lower down her body. “I do believe I’m up to it. And then some. Hold onto your vocal cord, you’re in for a treat.”

Chapter Five

‡

Mitchell arched her back, her body and soul on fire, ready for anything Remy had to give her. Free for the moment of worry about Hatch and his henchmen dogging their steps, she let go of her fear, pushed back her guilt and opened herself to the man she hadn’t been able to forget.

As Remy worked his way down her body, tension built at her core, sending shivers of delicious anticipation throughout her body. When his lips reached the narrow mound of curls at the apex of her thighs, she parted her legs, letting him slide his broad shoulders between. Sighing, she wove her fingers into his dark hair, urging him lower.

When he spread her open and tongued her there, she whimpered, her breath catching in her throat.

Again, he touched her with the tip of his tongue, flicking the nubbin packed tightly with highly sensitive nerve endings. And he paused, blowing a hot stream of air over her damp entrance.

Mitchell gasped and dug her heels into the mattress, lifting her hips. “Oh, sweet Jesus. Don’t stop now.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“All of it. Give it to me.” She tried to breathe, but her lungs were locked down. “Please.”

He scooped her bottom in his palms and parted her folds with his thumbs. “How much do you want it?”

“More than I want to breathe,” she said. “Please.”

He tongued her entrance, swirling the tip around before rising to the spot that had her entire being wound into a knot. When he flicked her clit once, then again and again, she came apart, her senses shattering into a million sparks, shooting from her center outward to the tips of her fingers and toes.

Her breath released on a scream. She stiffened, riding the crest of his assault to the very last shudder.

Spent, shaking, her insides throbbing, she dragged at his shoulders, craving the ultimate fulfillment only he could give her. “Inside me,” she demanded. “Now.”

“Bossy, aren’t we?” He climbed up her body like a Conquistador claiming his riches and thrust into her channel.

After the initial stretch, her muscles contracted around him, claiming him, suctioning him back when he pulled out to ram into her again.

She jammed her heels into the mattress and met him thrust for thrust. “Harder, frogman. Give me all you’ve got.”

He powered into her, slamming so hard, the headboard banged the wall and the bed frame squeaked in protest.

She held on, her fingernails digging into his skin, desperate to bring him closer, as if she could make him a part of her. Mitchell flung back her head and cried out as Remy thrust one last time, burying himself deep inside.

As she floated back to earth, he dropped to the mattress beside her, turning her with him, maintaining their connection, his cock still hard and stiff inside her body.

She lay for several minutes in his arms, savoring the warmth of his embrace but knowing she couldn’t stay. “I have to go.”

His arms tightened around her. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t.” Mitchell pried his arms loose and stood beside the bed, staring down at his naked male form, tempted to hop back in and cuddle against the warmth of his brawny body. But she couldn’t. “If Hatch or one of his snitches is watching my place, they’ll begin to wonder why I haven’t come home. I need to be there.”

Remy leaned up on an elbow. “I have your GPS data. You’re not running this op alone.”

She nodded. “I don’t want you hurt in the process.”

“I can hold my own.”

“These guys are dangerous.”

“And Al-Qaeda isn’t?” He chuckled, his face ruggedly appealing, the sparkle in his eyes making her want to kiss him again.

Her chest contracted and she squeezed her fingers into a fist, refusing to give in to desire again. “You do realize that I can’t text, call or contact you. Too risky.”

“I understand.” He stood and brushed a strand of hair from her face then pulled her into the circle of his arms. “Take care of yourself, darlin’. I don’t want to lose you, now that I’ve found you again.”

“Goes both ways.” She leaned into him, reveling in his heat. His hands were so big, rough and yet gentle. Mitchell could get used to having them all over her body, all of the time. If everything went according to her plan, she hoped she’d get that chance. Soon. “We have so much to talk about when this is all over.”

“Damn right we do.” His kissed her lips and whispered, “I’ll see you at the club tonight.”

She frowned, pushing him to arms’ length. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Didn’t Hatch’s men warn you to stay away from me?”

“I’ll think of something. Maybe a disguise.”

After grabbing her clothes from the floor, Mitchell strapped her bra in place and slipped her shirt over her head. “Be careful. I’ve seen some of the corpses his men left behind.” Her belly knotted. “They weren’t pretty and forensics tells me they died painful deaths.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Having been up against the Al-Qaeda who are as ruthless to their women as they are to their enemies, I think I can deal with a few thugs.”

Mitchell paused in pulling on her skirt. “Don’t go playing hero. If I disappear, you take that information to my boss. Let the NCIS call in the FBI and whoever else they have to contact.”

“I will. But I can’t let you go alone. If I show up at the club tonight, I can be close enough to provide backup should you need it.”

“Unarmed?”

An eyebrow winged upward. “Honey, I’m trained to fight with or without a weapon.”

She propped a fist on her hip. “Cocky much?”

He shrugged.

His sexy nonchalance made her pulse hum at the same time as a chill slithered across Mitchell’s skin. His casual indifference about the threat worried Mitchell. “These men have weapons. Big, bad, ugly guns.”

“They’re not the only ones.” Strutting naked across the carpet, his ass tight and sexy, Remy flung open his closet. “SEALs like guns so much we collect them.” Inside the closet was a gun safe taking up most of the space. He twirled the tumbler right, then left and back to the right and opened the handle. Inside was an arsenal of weapons from several handguns to an AR15 semi automatic.

Holy crap! “Okay, so you have weapons. Do you have a concealed carry license for the state of Virginia?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Still, I’d feel better if you just turned everything over to my supervisor and let him handle it.” She adjusted the collar on her shirt. “He’d be mad I started this, but he’d know who to call in for support.”

“What was it you said? In the case of kidnappings, the more time that passes, the less likely you are to find the victim.” Remy shook his head. “I’ll call them, but I won’t wait around for them to respond.”

Mitchell gnawed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid. I’ve lived through six deployments to hostile countries. I know how to conduct myself to stay alive.” His brows dipped into a frown. “I’m more concerned about you.”

Mitchell zipped up the back of her skirt and grabbed her high heels. “I’ll be okay. It’s Kelli I’m worried about.”

Remy stood in front of her, his naked muscles rippling with every movement, tattoos laced across his bulging biceps. He was beautiful, rugged and sexy as hell.

Intending a quick goodbye, she leaned up on her toes and planted her lips on his. “I really have to go.” As soon as her breasts pressed against his chest, she melted into him.

He returned the kiss, his arms clamping around her as he crushed her in a tight embrace. His member nudged her belly, stiff and hot, reminding her of what she’d be missing by leaving. “I’ve got your back, babe.”

Dragging herself away, she let herself out the front door and ran barefooted down the back steps where she paused to slip into her heels.

Tomorrow, she had to push the envelope. The days were passing and she still hadn’t found Kelli. The sooner she did, the sooner she could get on with her life, which, if she played her cards right, and cut herself some slack, could include the strong, sexy presence of one Navy SEAL.

Chapter Six

‡

Mitchell hitched up the corset as much as it would go, afraid if she bent over at all, her breasts would pop over the top, escaping the tight confines. Thankfully, she had a mini biker jacket to wear over the corset and high-on-the-thigh panties. As much of her as was showing left little to the imagination. That plus the impossibly tall heels of her thigh-high shiny black boots completed the spectacle. Though the outfit made her feel completely feminine, she couldn’t do this on a regular basis. She didn’t know how the strippers did it, except that the tips they made were sometimes more than what Mitchell earned as a fulltime employee of NCIS.

Time was ticking away. She’d arrived early at the club, hoping for some alone time with the boss. Maybe if she offered up herself, he’d take the bait faster and he’d be tempted to add her to the collection of women he’d accumulated over the past months. Assuming he was the one responsible for the disappearances. All Mitchell had to go on was what the FBI had, the testimony of one woman who’d seen Kelli before she left, and a gut feel that Kelli’s date with Rocco Hatch had something to do with her disappearance.

If she was wrong, all this time would have been wasted. At least Brendan was working the case from his direction. Between them, hopefully they’d find Kelli. Too often lately, she’d let despair edge into her conscious thoughts. A week had already gone by. A week may as well be a lifetime.

“Nice, CC.” Dixie Lee nodded at the outfit Mitchell had chosen for her performance that evening. “I made a thousand dollars in tips on the night I wore that costume. Had an entire fleet of bikers ride in that time.” She leaned toward the mirror in front of her and drew on an eyebrow, darkening it with several strokes before moving to the other one. She lowered her voice. “Look, sweetie, I like you. You don’t try to steal the stage, you don’t push the rest of us around and you’re not judging us.”

Mitchell quit tugging at the corset and stared into the woman’s eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “I’m just here like the rest of you. Trying to make a difference in my life.”

“Some of us are here to make a living. Others…” she snorted and rolled her eyes, “want the attention. You, I haven’t quite figured out. But I like you.”

“Thanks.” Mitchell stared hard at the woman who had at least seven more years of hard living on Mitchell. “I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ in there.”

“No but—a warning.” Dixie Lee lowered her voice to the point only Mitchell could make out her words. “Be careful. People have been known to disappear from here.”

She widened her eyes. “Disappear?”

“You know…gone.”

“People don’t just disappear. Don’t their families notify the police?”

“Only if they have someone who cares at home. Not many of us have that luxury.” A shoulder lifted in a shrug. “If we did, we might not be working here.”

“Who do you know has gone missing?”

Dixie Lee glanced over Mitchell’s shoulder and turned to check the area behind her. “There was a girl, I think she was only nineteen. Lied about her age and told Rocco she was twenty-one. She danced here for maybe a week and then poof.” She snapped her fingers. “Gone.”

Mitchell’s pulse quickened. “Rocco say anything about it?”

“No, the rumor was she left to go back home. But she told me she didn’t have any family. Her parents were killed in a car wreck and she didn’t have no brothers or sisters.” She leaned forward and squinted into the mirror. “On her own, she was. I offered to let her stay with me. She moved her stuff in and slept there a couple nights, but then nothing.”

Mitchell applied lipstick to her mouth, pretending the information meant little to her. “Are you sure she didn’t lie about her family?”

“That’s just it. She left everything there. A picture of her and her parents. I looked them up on the internet. There was a news article about the crash and the names all matched.” Dixie Lee turned and spread out her hands. “Why would she leave all her stuff? And she had a wad of cash from her tips in a bag beneath her mattress. No way she’d go off without that.”

Mitchell touched Dixie Lee’s arm and lowered her voice. “You think Rocco took her?”

Dixie Lee shrugged, glanced over Mitchell’s shoulder and froze. “You should use some of this body glitter. The customers like it when our cleavage sparkles.” The older woman pressed a bottle of glitter into her hand.

Candi walked by, her eyes narrowed. “I’m on first tonight,” she announced with a flip of her hair. “You two will dance together. And give the audience a little girl-on-girl action.”

“Who made you queen bee?” Dixie Lee stood with her arms crossed over her full breasts.

“Look, Rocco tells me what he wants and I pass it along. You know…pillow talk.” She looked down her nose at Mitchell and Dixie Lee. “He likes me.”

“For now,” Dixie Lee muttered under her breath.

Mitchell caught her words and apparently so did Candi.

“What do you mean for now?” Candi demanded, planting both hands on her hips.

“Just that.” Dixie Lee’s chin rose. “He’ll keep you around until he’s bored or annoyed. I think he’ll hit annoyed first.”

Candi lunged for Dixie Lee’s platinum blond hair and pulled hard, jerking back the woman’s head. “Take it back, bitch!”

Training kicked in. Mitchell, grabbed Candi’ hand and bent back her thumb. “Release Dixie Lee or I’ll break it.”

Holding onto the fistful of hair, tears welling in her eyes, Candi sank lower. “Let go of me, you fuckin’ whore!”

Exerting a bit more pressure, Mitchell smiled at her grimly. “You first.”

Sweat popped out on Candi’s forehead and finally, she let go of Dixie Lee’s hair.

Mitchell released her hold on Candi’s thumb. As soon as she did, the woman swung.

Mitchell dodged, gripped her arm and dragged it up behind her, shoving it high between her shoulder blades. Then she pushed her up against the wall. “Try it again and I’ll break your pretty little nose. You won’t win with me, Candi, so don’t even try.”

“Rocco will have something to say about this.”

“I hope so. Then he can take it up directly with me. I don’t take orders from his whore.” Mitchell gritted out the last word and shoved the woman away from her. “Now, get out of my face. I have to apply body glitter.”

Candi rubbed her arm, glaring.

Mitchell darted toward her as if ready to attack her again. “Go!”

“You’ll be sorry you messed with me.” Candi scooted away, cursing all through the dressing room until she slammed the door at the end.

Dixie Lee dragged a brush through her hair, shaking her head, her lips pinched into a sad frown. “Honey, you just made yourself an enemy in Miss Candi.”

“And I should be worried?”

“That girl has a mean streak, and she plays dirty.” Dixie Lee held up her hands. “Just saying. If I was you, I’d watch my back and carry a big stick. Or better yet, a nine-millimeter Beretta.”

Maybe now I’m getting closer. Mitchell edged toward the older woman. “Dixie Lee, is Rocco involved in anything other than this club?”

Dixie Lee’s eyes widened and she shot a look over her shoulder. “Sweetie, some questions we just don’t ask around here. And that’s one of them. Excuse me, I got tables to wait.” The woman left her standing in the dressing room.

Mitchell’s heartbeat banged against her chest. This was it. She was in the right place. She could feel it in her bones.

Based on Dixie’s warning and her reluctance to point any fingers at Rocco, he had to be at the bottom of the disappearances. She squared her shoulders and resolved to make her move that night.

The first dance music of the evening started. Candi would be on stage, which would keep her busy while Mitchell set her sights on Rocco.

*

Remy sat in the back seat of Irish’s SUV surrounded by Fish, Irish, and Nacho. “You all know what’s at stake.”

“Got it,” each man said, one at a time until all in the vehicle had sounded off.

“We’re online,” Swede called out through the radio headset. “Comm check.”

“Fish, here.”

“Irish.”

“Nacho.”

From the group in the second SUV parked twenty feet away came voices across the radios.

“Tuck, here.”

“Dustman.”

“Big Bird.”

When the last member of the team reported in, Remy added his. “Gator, here. I’ve got a visual on the van and, Swede, I read you loud and clear.”

“Good. I have the target up on the monitor. She’s approximately forty yards to our east, which places her in the rear of the club.”

“The commander isn’t going to be happy when he realizes we appropriated all this equipment from supply,” Tuck observed.

Remy fought against a wince. “He will probably be pissed we didn’t include him on the operation, more so than for using the unit’s toys.”

“Especially if he hears we were at the Naughty Ladies Lounge,” Big Bird added.

“Hopefully, he won’t find out. Besides, we only took the radios,” Nacho said. “Swede has the main firepower in the van.”

Fish shook his head. “Where’d he get all that stuff?”

“It’s a hobby of mine,” Swede said into their headsets. “You guys collect guns. I collect computers and surveillance systems.”

“And we’re damned glad you do.” Remy grinned. SEALs lived their work.

“Kinda creepy, if you ask me,” Irish said.

Remy pressed the fake mustache he’d applied to his upper lip, hoping the semi-permanent glue held throughout the night. He didn’t want to get into it with Mutt and Jeff, the bouncer thugs from the night before. “Here’s to Operation Stripper.” He pushed open the vehicle door and climbed out, straightening the sweat jacket he had on over his black long-sleeved T-shirt. At the door to the club, the bouncer frisked him beneath his arms and down his back, searching for weapons or drugs.

Thankful he’d opted for a small handgun strapped to the inside of his calf, he stood still, waiting from the bouncer to get personal and move down his legs. If he did, he’d knee the bastard in the face, drag his ass behind the dumpster and go inside without being felt up by the man again.

The bouncer stopped at his back pockets, nodded and jerked his head. “You can go in.”

Remy waited just inside the door for his teammates. Once they’d all cleared the entrance, they worked their way through the tables to the front by the catwalk upon which the dancers strutted their stuff.

“How soon until Mitch goes on?” Tuck asked.

“I don’t know.” Remy’s gaze scanned the room for Mitchell.

A woman with bright red hair, wearing a police costume that would make her mother cringe, strutted out on the catwalk, turned and bent, showing the crowd her pale, white ass, separated by what appeared to be dental floss of a G-string.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Nacho pushed forward. “I always wanted me a redhead.”

“You’ll have to look for it somewhere else,” Tuck said. “That woman most likely is a brunette.”

“Hey, it’s my fantasy. Don’t poke holes in it.” Nacho removed several bills from his pocket and hurried toward the stage, waving them at the woman.

She slowed, turned to face him and dropped to her haunches, spreading her knees wide, exposing her satin-covered crotch. Leaning forward, she presented her barely covered breasts, crammed into a sequined bra that pushed them up and together.

“Yeah, baby.” Nacho tucked a bill into her bra. “What’s your name, senorita?”

“Candi.” She blew him a kiss, pivoted on her heels and straightened her legs, hiking her ass in the air while balancing her hands on her knees.

Nacho hooted and tucked a bill into the strap of her G-string at the top of her butt crack.

Remy muttered, “Focus on the mission, Sanchez.”

“We have to blend into the crowd, amigo,” Nacho responded with a wide grin.

Irish clapped a hand to Remy’s back. “The man has a point. Gator, lighten up, we’re supposed to be having fun.”

They were right. Remy rolled his shoulders and forced a smile to his face.

“Now you’re scaring me.” Irish laughed out loud. “You might want to lose the crazy grin.”

After they claimed a table, Remy glanced around the club, counting the number of men who appeared to be bouncers. One for each corner of the bar, two more, one at either side of the stage where the women performed. A man sat at a table in an area of the club with raised seating. He was surrounded by scantily dressed women and he had an unlit cigar in his hand.

Had to be Rocco Hatch.

The man’s dark hair was slicked back from a low forehead and he stared across the room at the dancer on the stage, ignoring the women around him. The two men flanking his table were the guys who’d followed Remy after Mitchell had dropped him off the night before.

Remy returned his attention to the stage. “Rocco Hatch at four o-clock on the raised seating area with his harem and goons.”

A waitress stopped at their table.

The men ordered a couple pitchers of beer. When the waitress left, Dustman’s gaze followed her. “I can’t swear by it, but isn’t that woman with the long curly blond hair wearing the dominatrix, biker chick costume our Mitchell?” He turned back to the woman on stage.

Remy let his drink napkin drop to the floor and bent to retrieve it, glancing behind him as he did. His heart skipped several beats and then raced on.

Mitchell wore thigh-high shiny black boots, a black leather mini jacket and a corset pushing her breasts up so high they looked like they might pop out of the contraption at any moment…Yowza, she was hot! And she was headed for Hatch.

Irish let out a low wolf whistle. “No wonder I didn’t recognize her last night. Holy shit. She’s so damned hot, I got an instant hard-on.”

His jaw tightening, Remy reminded the team, “She’s undercover. Have some respect.”

“I got a shitload of respect for her. Eight inches of respect.” Irish grinned.

Big Bird backhanded Irish hard to the gut. “In your dreams. In case you’ve forgotten, she’s Brewsky’s ex, God rest his soul.”

The team paused in remembrance of their fallen comrade.

A familiar twinge of guilt shadowed Remy’s conscience. He pushed it aside and concentrated on the operation.

“Who knew,” Irish muttered, his gaze focused on the stage. “Just saying. I would give my left nut for a girlfriend who looked like that.”

Nacho fidgeted, having given all his dollar bills away to Candi, he lifted his mug of beer and sipped. “Any idea when the action will start?”

Dustman glanced behind them and jerked his chin. “I’d say it’s starting.”

Remy stared across the table at Nacho, while following Mitchell’s every move in his peripheral vision.

She wrapped her arms around Rocco’s neck from behind and bent to nibble on his ear. Her actions appeared as if she was pushing for favor with the man.

He lifted his hand and cupped her face, turning to kiss her.

“Fucking bitch,” the female voice sounded from the stage in front of them.

Remy turned toward the stripper who’d been introduced as Candi.

She stopped dancing, her gaze locked on Rocco and Mitchell, her brown eyes narrowed into slits, her fists clenched at her sides. Before the song ended, she spun and marched off the stage. A moment later she appeared on the barroom floor, striding toward the raised seating area.

The woman could be trouble. Remy angled his chair toward the action.

Irish clapped his hands together, a grin spreading across his face. “I believe we’re about to witness a cat fight, if that chick has anything to say about it.”

Big Bird nodded. “My money’s on Mitchell. I saw her take Brewsky down one night when they were wrestling.”

“Yeah, she’s tough, but Candi looks like she can hold her own,” Nacho said.

Before Candi reached the group of people in the raised seating area, Rocco stood, glanced at his goons and jerked his head toward the advancing woman.

The two bouncers stepped between her and Rocco.

She said something, but the music was loud enough to drown her words.

Rocco ignored her, held out his arm for Mitchell and led her toward a door near the side of the stage.

Don’t leave. Muscles tense, Remy started to rise.

Irish stuck out his arm, pushing him back into his seat. “You gotta let her work this operation from her angle. For all you know, she’s just getting ready for her turn on stage.”

“What if he tries something?” Remy asked, his muscles tensing.

Irish patted his shoulder. “I’ll go stand close to the door and listen for trouble.”

“Why not me?” Remy tried again to push to his feet.

Irish clapped a hand to Remy’s back and grinned like he was telling a pretty funny joke while he spoke through tightly stretched lips. “If you get too close to his bodyguards, they might recognize you.”

Remy shoved aside Irish’s hands. “I don’t care.”

“Mitchell will care if you blow her operation. Her friend Kelli’s life is at stake here,” Big Bird, always the logical one, reminded him.

Remy spoke softly. “Swede, you getting any of this?”

“The music is loud, but I’m getting most of it. I gather Mitchell is baiting the trap.”

With herself.

Remy closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to the heavens. Derek, if you’re up there, keep an eye on Mitchell. When he opened his eyes, he let go of the breath he’d been holding. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

A woman stepped out on stage and announced, “Please give Dixie Lee and CC Hart a hand as they entertain you to the tune of Hold It Against Me by Britney Spears.”

Only one stripper pranced out on the stage, her bleached platinum blond hair bouncing around her shoulders. Strobe lights kicked in, as the stripper gyrated to the music her movements erotic, sensuous and disjointed as the stage blinked dark then light. She clung to the dance pole, sliding up and down. And she wasn’t Mitchell.

“Didn’t the woman announce that CC Hart would be dancing this set?” Remy asked, leaning forward.

“Yeah. She did.” Fish pointed to the woman who’d announced the act. She’d turned around and was talking to someone near the curtain.

“Gator, looks like you won’t have to wait long,” Swede said. “Mitch’s location just moved out into the alley behind the club.”

Remy shot to his feet along with the rest of the team, gesturing as he moved. “Fish, Nacho take the front. Circle around the side in case they come around that way. Big Bird and Tuck take the side exit and swing around to the back. Dustman, Irish, you’re with me.” He leaped up on the stage and charged toward the back.

The two bouncers flanking the stage jumped up, grabbed Remy’s arms and tried to haul him off. One of them landed a punch to his belly.

Pain was numbed by his determination to get to the back door before Hatch left with Mitchell. He ducked and twisted out of one man’s grip, plowed his shoulder into his gut, lifted him off the ground and dropped him on his ass.

The downed man scrambled to his feet and charged toward Remy.

Still caught in the other man’s grip, Remy braced himself for impact.

A pretty, high-heeled foot shot out, tripping the attacker and he fell flat on his face.

“I always wanted to do that.” The dancer, Dixie Lee, smiled and danced off.

Dustman jerked the other thug away from Remy and slammed his fist into the guy’s face. The man toppled like a tree.

A woman behind the stage screamed and ran.

Remy raced into the dressing room back stage.

A brunette dressed as a French maid stepped in front of him. “Looking for me?” Her eyelids sank low over her eyes.

“Nope.” Grabbing her arms, he set her to the side.

The woman pouted. “Yeah, baby, I like my men rough.”

Remy ignored her and pushed on.

The other ladies, in various states of nudity, didn’t even pretend to cover themselves, flashing their breasts in his face and calling out as he and his teammates raced for the back exit.

“Call me, sweet cheeks.”

“I could ride a stud like you.”

Irish groaned and muttered, “Eyes front, eyes front.” Despite all the temptation, he kept pace behind Remy with Dustman bringing up the rear.

“They’re on the move!” Swede called into Remy’s headset.

Remy burst through the backdoor. Taillights flashed at the end of the alley as a limousine turned onto the street and drove off.

“They’re headed south on Market Street. Mount up!”

Gut clenched into a tight wad, Remy ran for the front of the Naughty Ladies Lounge.

Tuck was already in his SUV pulling forward. “Get in!” he shouted.

Remy grabbed the door handle before the vehicle came to a full halt and dove into the front passenger seat. Big Bird scrambled behind the wheel of the van in which Swede had set up shop.

Irish ran for his vehicle, calling out. “Don’t wait on us, we’ll catch up.” Dustman and Fish clambered into his vehicle.

Tuck gunned the accelerator, spitting up gravel as he turned in the direction Swede indicated.

“Where are they now?” Remy demanded, praying the van could keep pace with them or they’d get out of range of their radios really quickly.

“Still headed south. No, wait. In about a quarter of mile, turn left at a major intersection.”

“Don’t lose them,” Remy said, fighting to keep his voice calm.

“I’m not as afraid of losing them as losing you guys,” Swede responded. “The tracking device she has implanted is strong and steady. You might have to slow down for us. This van doesn’t manage the curves as well as your vehicles.”

Remy’s fingers curled around the armrest, his fingers digging into the upholstery. He leaned forward, straining to catch a glimpse of the speeding vehicle putting distance between him and Mitchell. God, he prayed they wouldn’t harm her.

He wished he knew what Rocco was up to. The man could be taking her out to dinner or he could be setting her up as a sex slave. Until they caught up with Mitchell, they wouldn’t know.

Second-guessing his decision to go along with this operation, he wondered if he should have blown her cover and kept her from falling into Rocco’s hands.

Chapter Seven

‡

As soon as she stepped into the limousine, Mitchell almost regretted her move. If she could have thought of any other way of finding Kelli, she wouldn’t have set herself up as bait. Now that she was committed, all she could do was play it out and hope she lived to find Kelli.

Squelching her revulsion for the man, Mitchell draped her body over Rocco’s arm and twirled her finger around his earlobe. “Are we going to your place, honey?” She forced herself to be calm, cool and seductive, when her heart wanted to leap out of her chest.

Rocco shook his head.

“No?” She pouted, hating herself for the simpering act. “Are we going to a hotel?”

His lips twisted and his gaze turned sinister. “No.”

“Really?” Her pulse ratcheting up even more, Mitchell wanted to rip off this man’s head. Instinct was screaming to her that this was it. He was the one who’d kidnapped all those women. For them, she leaned close, her lips brushing the side of his neck. While pretending to want sex with the man, she had to force back her need to vomit. The man could be getting away with murder or worse—sexual slavery. “But I thought you liked me.”

“I like you okay. But I don’t have to.” He nodded toward the front of the limousine. The dark glass window between them and the driver slid down.

A woman with bright red hair turned in her seat and glanced at Mitchell.

“Candi?” Mitchell tipped her head. Is the stripper part of the plot?

“Surprised? My little act with the bouncers was pretty convincing, right?” The redhead sneered, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Before long, you’ll be wishing you hadn’t fucked with me.”

Rocco grabbed her arm and yanked her across his lap.

Mitchell fought the man, but she’d been taken by surprise, and he’d pinned her arms to her sides.

Kicking her feet against the door, she struggled, trying to break free.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Rocco jabbed a needle into her arm. “Candi calls the shots around here. And what Candi wants, she gets.”

“And what I want right now is your head on a platter.” The woman in the front seat laughed, her voice echoing in Mitchell’s fuzzy head.

Rocco shoved her off his lap and she hit the floor of the limousine, landing on her hands and knees.

She struggled to stay alert as whatever they’d injected into her sucked the strength from her muscles. “Where are…you…taking…me?” Her arms gave out and she fell over on her side, staring across the expanse of the limousine at the woman in the passenger seat.

“Where you won’t be a pain in my ass.” She nodded at Rocco. “Deal with her.” The connecting window rolled up between them.

Awake, but unable to move, Mitchell could do little to stop Rocco from binding her wrists behind her back with duct tape and slapping a strip across her mouth.

She’d wanted to find the location of the abducted women and it appeared she’d get her wish. Though she’d told Remy she could hold her own, she hadn’t counted on this—the paralysis-inducing drug Rocco had given her made that impossible. Even if she wanted to escape now, she couldn’t.

As the limousine raced through the city, she prayed Remy would notify her boss and they could mobilize the cavalry in time to save her and Kelli.

“Distance?” Remy called over the radio to Swede.

“Approximately a half of a mile.”

“That’s too much.” Remy turned to Tuck. “Can’t you go faster?”

“I could.” Tuck shot a glance at him. “But if we get too close, they might detect us.”

Remy’s hands bunched into fists. “If we lose that limo, we lose Mitchell.”

“Calm down, Gator.” Tuck frowned. “We won’t lose her as long as she has that tracker.”

“Shit!” Swede cursed into Remy’s ear.

“What?” Remy asked, his pulse pounding so hard against his eardrums he could barely hear Swede.

“I lost her.”

Remy swore and slammed his fist on the armrest. “How the hell did you lose her?”

“She just disappeared off the screen,” Swede said.

Tuck glanced across the console at Remy. “They probably took her into a solid concrete building, like a parking garage or basement.”

“I have the position of her last location before she disappeared,” Swede said.

“Get us there, ASAP.” Remy ground his teeth together, leaning forward in his seat as if that would get him to Mitchell quicker. He should never have let her go forward with this insane plan.

As they passed through the streets, the area had transitioned from residential to retail to the warehouse and staging district near the shipyards. Large buildings spanned entire blocks. Some new and clean, others dark and derelict. The deeper they drove into the streets full of warehouses, the older and more deteriorated they became.

Remy’s gut clenched tighter with each change in condition.

Streetlights were fewer and farther between and fences that had once kept out the riffraff had been cut, bent or torn down around different facilities.

“Find a place to hide your vehicle,” Swede called out. “You’re approximately four blocks over from the last known location. We’ll move in by foot from here.”

Remy pointed to an alley between two rundown buildings. “There.”

While Tuck pulled into the space, far enough back the shadows would help to hide their vehicle, Remy applied black camouflage paint to his face, neck and the back of his hands.

As soon as Tuck shifted into Park, they leaped out, opened the rear hatch of the SUV and hauled out the weapons they might need to storm a secure compound. Tuck had a vest loaded with CS grenades, rifle magazines and handgun clips. He strapped the vest to his body and threw a jacket over it.

“I’m not going to ask where you got the grenades.”

He tossed two more to Remy. “Good, because it’s a secret.”

“And if you told me…”

“I’d have to kill you.” Tuck grinned as he slapped on some camouflage paint. “Or share my source. And I’m not very good at sharing.”

Remy strapped a knife scabbard to his forearm and pulled his sleeve down over it. He grabbed an HK 40 semi-automatic pistol and shoved a silencer in his pocket.

“Hey, Gator, need these?” Irish stood at the end of the alley with a rifle in one hand and four loaded magazines tucked into the pockets of the tactical plate carrier vest he’d slipped over the long-sleeved black T-shirt and dark slacks he’d worn to the strip club. He’d blackened his face with camouflage paint and wore his Kevlar helmet equipped with night vision goggles, the goggles pushed up. In his other hand, he carried Remy’s helmet and vest.

Remy pulled off the sweat jacket he’d worn to the club and strapped on the vest over his black shirt. Once he had on his helmet, he tucked his HK 40 handgun in the leg holster on his thigh, hooked the CS grenades into his vest and closed the back of the SUV. “Let’s go.”

They’d already taken too much time, and had yet to locate Mitchell in the concrete jungle.

Big Bird, Fish, Nacho and Dustman met them at the end of the alley.

Now that they were ready, an intense calm and focus settled over Remy, his training and experience kicking in. This was what they did—covert combat operations. The team had gone door to door, searching for and extracting key personnel from hostile situations all across the Middle East.

Searching the warehouse district on the coast of Virginia would be a piece of cake.

Swede held out his smart phone and pointed at a position on the street map displayed. “Her last location was here.” Expanding the display to the satellite image, he pointed to a long warehouse building flanked by other warehouses on three sides and a huge open area filled with Conex cargo shipping containers stacked two, three and four deep. Beyond that was the shipyard and the shipping channel.

Mitchell’s tracking device had gone dark on the Conex storage yard side of the warehouse.

“These are two-story warehouses. We should anticipate a sniper at the top of this building and possibly this one.” He pointed at each location. “There could also be one positioned on the storage containers.”

Remy tapped his best sniper. “Big Bird, find your way to the top of that building, neutralize any threat and take over that position.”

“Got it.”

“We’ll concentrate our efforts on searching the warehouse,” Remy said. “Dustman and Irish take the north side. Swede, Tuck, Fish, Sanchez and I will find our way in through the front. Observe first for traffic going in and out. Wait for my signal to move in. Something to consider, we’re not in the Middle East. Use deadly force only if necessary.”

They moved through the streets, hugging the shadows of the buildings. Intermittent moonlight and streetlights lit their paths. When the occasional vehicle passed, coming from or going to the warehouse, they hovered in the shadows and waited until it drove out of sight.

Dustman and Irish broke off and circled the warehouse from behind, taking the north end.

Remy and his team worked their way around the south side. They neared the front corner of their target building, and Remy held up his hand to halt their forward progression. All five SEALs dropped to a crouch.

From point position, Remy shifted his night vision goggles in place and eased around the corner.

“See any movement?” Tuck asked.

“Nothing, yet,” Remy observed.

“Vehicle approaching six o’clock, lights out,” Tuck warned.

Remy shrank into the shadows of the building.

The men flattened themselves against the wall as the vehicle drove past, headlights off.

Remy peered around the corner through his NVGs. The sedan slowed, turned and waited in front of the warehouse. The heat signatures of two men separated from the building. From the position of their arms, they were bearing rifles. One spoke to the driver, stepped back and an overhead door rolled up. The vehicle drove through and the door closed behind it.

“Two guards on duty at the entrance,” Remy spoke softly into his mic. He expanded his view to include the stacks of storage containers in the yard across from the warehouse. Movement caught his attention at the top of one of the boxes and a green heat signature popped up. “Sniper position on the box directly across from the door.”

“I’ll take him.” Sanchez detached himself from the team and slipped down the front of the adjacent building.

Remy waited. He picked up Sanchez’s heat signature as he crossed the open space and slipped between the storage containers.

“One sniper on the north corner of the building,” Big Bird reported.

“Can you get to him without entering?” Remy asked.

“With a little help. There’s an access ladder to the AC units ten feet off the ground.” A moment later, he said, “Going up.”

The clanking sound of metal drew Remy’s attention back to the entrance of the warehouse. Once again, the overhead door opened and a vehicle drove out. As it neared Remy’s position, the driver lit a cigarette and glanced around.

“Swede?” Remy prompted.

“She’s not in the car.”

Remy let the vehicle pass and waited for his men to move into position.

A figure appeared on the back side of the Conex, crouching low, moving up behind the sniper’s position. A brief struggle ended quickly.

“Conex sniper neutralized. Alive, but he’ll have a heck of a headache in the morning.”

Patience was as critical to a successful mission as weapons training. Remy was short on the patience. The longer it took to get his men inside the place, the bigger the chance of something bad happening to Mitchell.

“Dustman and Irish in position,” Dustman reported.

A few precious minutes later, another voice chimed in, “Big Bird in position.”

“Sanchez, can you provide a little distraction?” Remy asked.

“I can do that.”

A muffled poomf sounded and a tear gas grenade landed at the feet of the two guards. A puff of gas surrounded them. Within seconds, they threw down their weapons and ran north, away from the cloud of gas, crying out as they went, leaving the entrance to the warehouse unguarded.

“Let’s move.” Remy took point and ran toward the cloud of smoke already dissipating.

Dustman and Irish took down the guards, quickly secured them with zip-ties and duct tape and then rolled them into the shadows.

Remy edged up to the large overhead door to the warehouse. The sting of tear gas lingered, making his eyes water and his lungs burn, but not bad enough to stop him. Beside the big door was a smaller metal locked door. While his men pressed themselves against the side of the building, Remy drew his HK-40 from its holster, attached the suppressor and pointed it at the locking mechanism.

“Wait.” Dustman arrived at his side and held up a ring of keys. “Found them on one of the guards, along with the remote control for the overhead door and a radio.” He quickly selected one of the keys, slid it into the lock and turned.

“To keep suspicion down, Dustman will take the guards’ position.” Remy stood to the side of the door, the others fanned out to the either side.

With the tip of his suppressor, Remy edged open the door. No one jumped out, or shot at them. A positive. He didn’t have time to think, instead he ducked through the door, eased into the shadows and sneaked up on a small room where a guard lounged back in an office chair, sipping coffee from a mug, his gaze turned toward the screen in front of him. Several security camera views were depicted on the monitor in tiny boxes, changing every ten seconds.

The guard frowned and lifted his radio. “Just got back with coffee, how’s it going out front?”

Remy eased around to the side of the office door.

“Uh, good,” Dustman said, his voice deeper than usual, crackling over the guard’s radio speaker. “Nothing goin’ on out here.”

“The camera got cloudy there for a minute. We might need to clean it. Want me to open the overhead for you to grab a ladder?”

“Is it clear now?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why bother?”

The guard’s brow furrowed deeper and his feet dropped to the floor. “You’re not getting sick on me, are you? Your voice sounds different.”

Remy lunged for the man, grabbed him from behind and yanked him out of the office and into the bay area.

“What the hell?”

Tuck slapped duct tape over the guard’s mouth while Remy secured his arms behind him with a zip-tie and then applied the same to his legs to keep him from going anywhere. He shoved the secured man into a nearby closet.

“Got a vehicle coming in,” Dustin spoke through the headset. “What do you want me to do?”

Remy held his breath.

“Number of occupants?” the guard demanded.

“Two. They appear to be businessmen in nice suits. Classy Cadillac.”

“Let them in.”

“Will do.”

The team stood back in the shadows while the overhead door rose, a vehicle pulled in, similar to the earlier one with its lights out. The driver drove down a ramp into the concrete bowels of the warehouse.

After it passed, Remy motioned his team forward. Moving with efficient speed, they followed the brake lights of the Cadillac down into a basement parking area. Several other vehicles were parked beneath, none of them sporting license plates.

Remy’s first thoughts were that this might be a chop shop, but he didn’t hear any machinery humming and no sparks flew from cutting torches or welders.

The driver got out of his car, pulled up his jacket collar around his face, but not before Remy saw his dark hair, dark skin and Middle Eastern appearance. He opened the vehicle’s back door and another man climbed out. This one was equally dark, his hair a glossy black, his face dark and heavy brows hovered over brown-black eyes.

The two men approached a door at the end of the parking lot and knocked. Another guard stepped out, carrying a handgun, another tucked into a holster strapped to his body. He spoke with them briefly and then opened the door wider allowing them to enter.

A woman stood inside the door, dressed in a sheer negligee, her breasts clearly visible through the fabric.

Remy’s heart dipped to his belly. Holy shit. This place was some high-dollar prostitution den. And Hatch had Mitchell inside.

Chapter Eight

‡

Rocco had slid a black bag over Mitchell’s head and left her to lie on the floor of the limousine, completely immobile as they drove through the streets. She concentrated on the engine noises and strained to pick up any other sounds like trains, road noise, or anything that would give her a clue as to where they were taking her. When the vehicle stopped, she heard what sounded like a garage door rolling up, only it took longer and was louder than a garage door. When the sound stopped, the limousine pulled forward. The engine’s noise seemed to echo as if they were in a cave or a concrete building.

When they finally stopped and the driver turned off the engine, someone dragged her to the door of the limo and lifted her up in his arms. He smelled of cigars, like Rocco. The bastard.

A door opened, Rocco stepped through, and the door closed behind them.

Already, Mitchell could feel tingling in her fingers and toes. With effort, she could move them a little, but the rest of her muscles remained unresponsive.

“Put her with the others,” Candi’s voice commanded.

Rocco shoved her into the arms of a more muscular man with beefy fingers and body odor. He carried her down a long hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls.

A door opened to the sound of frightened gasps. Sobs and moans filled the air. A body slammed against her and the man holding her.

“Let me out of here. What you’re doing is illegal and immoral. You won’t get away with it.”

Mitchell’s heart leaped. The voice could be none other than Kelli O’Neal, sassy as ever. She wanted to call out to her, to let her know that she was there to save her. Ha. Like that was going to happen when she couldn’t save herself. And if she let on that she knew Kelli, her action could be bad for both of them. Their captors might actually dig deeper and discover Mitchell wasn’t CC Hart after all.

Mitchell was dropped onto a thin mattress.

A scuffle ensued beside her, and soon another body dropped down next to her.

“Asshole,” Kelli said, her voice shaking. “I’ll get out of here. And when I do, I’m taking down your sorry ass.”

“Obviously, the drugs have worn off.” The man snorted. “I’ll be back to fix that.”

“Like hell you will.” Kelli’s feet scrambled against the concrete.

A grunt was followed by the loud clap of a hand slapping someone. Again, a body dropped down next to Mitchell and she cringed.

Her fingers twitched and she could move her lips, pushing air past her vocal cords. “Kelli,” she whispered. “Stay down.”

The door slammed and the sobs continued.

“Bastard.” Kelli moved beside her and yanked the hood off Mitchell’s head.

The only light in the room was from a dim yellowing bulb hanging from a dangling socket.

“How did you know my name?” Kelli pushed Mitchell’s hair from her face and stared down at her. “Oh, dear God.” She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, her eyes tearing. “Mitch,” she cried, her voice barely a whisper. “What have you done?”

She blinked her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I came…to rescue…you.”

Kelli hugged her, burying her face in the side of her neck.

Tears dampened Mitchell’s skin. Thank God she’d followed her instincts or she wouldn’t have found her friend.

Kelli raised her head. One eye was black and blue and her gorgeous, blond hair was matted and hanging lank around her shoulders. Blood oozed from her broken lip, but she was smiling. “Where’s the cavalry?”

Mitch almost cried herself. She didn’t know if there was a cavalry or if anyone would be able to follow her tracking device. By the concrete wall on one side and the cool, damp air, she’d guess they were in some kind of basement or warehouse. If there was too much concrete surrounding them, the tracker wouldn’t work. There would be no cavalry to come to their rescue because they wouldn’t know where to look.

“They gave you a drug that temporarily paralyzes you. Depending on how much was in the shot, it can last anywhere between thirty minutes and two hours.”

“I can feel my fingers and toes.”

“Good, it’s already wearing off. You should be able to move within the next thirty minutes.”

“Can’t wait that long.” She tried to shake her head but it didn’t move.

“Trust me, you might have plenty of time to wait. I’ve been here seven days. I’m not sure how long the rest of these women have been here, but some of them are in bad shape.” She pushed a stand of hair behind one ear. “I need to get them out of here.”

“Turn my head, please.”

Kelli cupped her cheeks and gently turned her head.

The small room was packed with women. Most of them were young, dirty and their clothes were torn.

Mitchell’s heart wrenched.

“There are nineteen of us. You make twenty,” Kelli said, softly.

“Why?”

“There were four more, but they were dragged out of here. I haven’t seen them come back. Seems they’re collecting us for something.”

“Prostitution?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been forced to perform yet and they kept us all pretty well drugged and out of it. I managed to keep from getting a full dose of whatever they’ve been giving us. Must be in the bottled water and food.” She nodded toward a stack of empty bottles in the corner. “I stopped drinking it last night and I quit eating yesterday. This is the first time I’ve felt mentally alert.”

“I have to get up.”

“You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Have to…get…you out.” Mitchell closed her eyes and focused on her fingers, willing them to wake up and make a fist. All she got out of her efforts were small twitches.

“If I were you, every time they come in, play like you’re out of it.” Kelli waved a hand toward the room. “They keep most of us drugged through our food and water. The drug makes us thirsty enough to down the water. If you’re not malleable, they come in with a syringe full of the stuff. I’ve been hit at least once a day. I’m betting the man who dropped you off is on his way back right now with something.”

“Damn.” Mitchell tried again to move her hand and managed to curl her fingers. Not quite a fist, but it was a start.

Mitchell glanced around at the women, lying on the floor, curled into the fetal position or with their arms wrapped around their legs, rocking, crying, moaning. They were like zombies, their eyes bloodshot, their skin pale and tinged gray. What man would want women who were so lethargic and sickly?

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess.” Kelli held her hand and pressed it to her cheek. “I was so tired of setting myself apart from others as an officer, I was lonely. Rocco seemed nice, attentive and such a gentleman.”

“Can’t blame yourself for wanting to find love.”

“Yes, I can. I won’t be so stupid as to fall for another guy who talks sweet to me.”

Mitchell pictured Remy, whispering sexy things to her in bed. Tears welled in her eyes. More than ever, she wanted to be with him. She could live with the guilt, but she couldn’t live without Remy.

“I thought it was Rocco running things here, but it’s that Candi woman who yanked his chain and got me dragged into this horror show.” She settled herself on the mattress. “She’s got a bug up her ass about Rocco. But she uses him to trap the women. Every one of the girls in here was lured here by Rocco.”

“Well, we’ll just have to get ourselves out of this mess.” Mitchell wiggled her fingers and toes, and twisted her ankle back and forth. After a few minutes, she strained to raise her forearm two inches off the nasty thin mattress she was laying on.

Kelli patted her shoulder. “You’re getting there.” She lifted one of Mitchell’s legs and bent it back and forth. “I take it you went to work for Rocco at the lounge?” She chuckled. “I never would have pictured you in thigh-high shiny boots and a corset. Which, by the way, you look hot in.”

Trying to keep her mind off the close confines of the room and what Candi had in store for them, Mitchell said, “I might save the outfit. I kind of like how sexy it makes me feel.”

“That’s right, you had a date for Valentine’s Day.” Kelli’s eyes rounded. “That was today, wasn’t it?”

Mitchell nodded. “I didn’t feel right going out having fun when my best friend was missing. I spent Valentine’s Day pole dancing at the Naughty Ladies Lounge.”

Kelli massaged her muscles. “I’d have paid good money to see that.”

“I made good money doing it. I’m considering changing careers.”

With a snort, Kelli hugged her. “Like that would ever happen.”

“I gave up the navy, why couldn’t I give up my current job?”

“Because you like it entirely too much.” Kelli went to work on Mitchell’s other leg. “You didn’t quite answer me on the date issue. Is he back? Are you going to see him?”

Heat rose in Mitchell’s cheeks. “He’s back.”

“And you two have already done it.” Kelli dropped her leg and clapped her hands. The happiness in her expression was incongruous to their current circumstances.

Footsteps outside the door brought them back to their plight.

The women in the room whimpered or moaned, their eyes glassy, their movements lethargic. They’d be no help breaking out of this prison. Their rescue would be up to Kelli and Mitchell.

Mitchell flexed her arm and bent her legs.

Kelli glanced at the door as a key scraped the lock. “If only they’d wait a few more minutes.”

“Don’t fight. Make them think you’re as drugged out as the rest of them,” Mitchell urged. “Wait for our chance.”

The door swung open and two men strode in, followed by two more.

The first two grabbed Kelli by the arms and half-carried, half-dragged her out of the room. She remained limp, a woman spaced-out on drugs.

Lying with her eyes closed most of the way, Mitchell pretended to be asleep, observing everything through slitted eyes as they crossed to where she lay on the mattress.

The second two men draped Mitchell’s arms over their shoulders and dragged her out, closing the door behind them.

She didn’t make it easy on them, pretending complete immobility, which wasn’t too far from the truth. Muscle control was slowly coming back, and she prayed it would be soon enough.

At the end of a long hallway, the men turned into a room that was much different than the one where the women were held captive. This room had a Persian carpet spread across the concrete and the walls had been painted a soft shade of wheat gold. To the right were six lounge chairs filled with men dressed in slick black business suits. Their avid gazes followed Kelli, taking her in from the top of her strawberry blond hair to her trim ankles and bare feet. One leaned across to the other, speaking in a foreign language.

When they carried Mitchell into the room, the gentlemen in the lounge chairs sat forward, talking to each other softly and smiling. She bet her boots and corset were the subject of their conversation.

Candi sat to the side of the room with Rocco in the seat next to her. She whispered something into Rocco’s ear. He nodded and turned to look at the audience of men. “Gentlemen. I present these two beautiful women for your consideration.”

Caught between Rocco’s thugs, Mitchell watched the well-dressed men through her eyelashes.

“We’ll start the bidding at five thousand dollars,” Rocco said.

A hard knot lodged in Mitchell’s throat and she was glad because she might have said something out loud, otherwise. They were to be sold like cattle or slaves. Sex slaves by the expressions of lust clearly etched into the men’s faces.

She’d go down fighting before she had sex with any one of them. In Mitchell’s opinion, men or women who treated people as cattle weren’t human. She tested her legs, carefully so as not to draw attention to herself. Shaky, but they might hold her up.

The man on the front row with heavy eyebrows and really dark skin nodded toward her.

Yeah, baby, come and get me. I’ll show you what it’s like to tangle with a real woman.

Mitchell plotted the man’s demise as she gave her body the time it needed to recover from the paralyzing drug.

Another man in the middle row nodded toward Kelli. “I would like to examine the women more closely,” he said with a deep Middle Eastern accent.

Candi leaned over and spoke to Rocco.

Rocco nodded to the man. “Look, but do not sample the merchandise.”

The man rose from his seat and walked first toward Kelli, held between the two men.

She glared as he made a wide circle all the way around her. Then he crossed to Mitchell, his lip turning up on one corner. He touched her hair, letting it run between his fingers.

Mitchell remained quiet, docile, pretending she was drugged and unable to fend off the man’s leers. He reached for the top of one breast pushed up by the corset she still wore. When he squeezed the mound, his eyes flared and so did Mitchell’s temper.

That did it. She couldn’t take it one second longer and spit square in the man’s eye.

The man yelled and cocked his arm to backhand her.

Mitchell yanked herself sideways and the buyer hit the man holding her right side. She took advantage of his distraction, planted one of her sharply pointed heels into his instep, jerked back her elbow and hit him in the gut, then turned quickly and jabbed two fingers into her other captor’s eyes.

He screamed, let go of her and clamped his hands over his face. “Bitch!”

Next to her, Kelli had incapacitated one of the men who’d been holding her with a quick elbow to the groin. She ducked beneath the arm of the other, planted her foot in his back and shoved him toward the men in the fancy seats. Too surprised by the attack, the buyers didn’t have time to move away as the big guy fell into the middle of them.

A loud bang made Mitchell drop to the floor and roll to one side.

Candi held a handgun pointed at the ceiling. “Anyone else moves and I put a bullet in you.” Her brows angled toward the bridge of her nose as she glared at Kelli and Mitchell. “That means you two. I have no problem putting you out of my misery. There are plenty more women where you came from to satisfy my clients.”

Kelli rose to her feet. “Yeah, well, we’re not for sale.”

“And neither are the other women in that room.” Mitchell rose as well, glad her legs felt more steady.

Candi nodded toward Rocco. “Deal with them before I waste two perfectly good bullets on them.”

Rocco pulled a case out of his pocket. The same case he’d had on him in the limousine when he’d paralyzed Mitchell.

A shiver ran over her. Mitchell backed away, bumping into one of the big guys she’d taken out earlier.

He was on his feet, and pissed.

If Rocco got that needle in her, she’d be down again. If he shot enough of that stuff in her, her organs would shut down and she’d be dead. So the idea was not to let him get that needle in her.

Chapter Nine

‡

Remy studied the door and the area around it. A camera was attached to the wall over the entrance. He’d have to get past that to get inside.

“How do you plan to get in?” Swede asked.

“Come at the door from the side.” He unbuckled his vest and let it slide down his arms and rest on the floor. Then he yanked his black T-shirt up over his head. He slipped his vest back on and buckled it in place over his naked chest.

Irish chuckled. “You might have a chance with the women, but the men might not be your type.”

“Wait here until I get the shirt over the camera.”

The team hunkered in the darkness, ready for the fight.

Remy slipped along the wall, clinging to the shadows as much as possible. When he came to the wall facing him, he turned and ran along it toward the entrance, tossed his shirt up over the camera and came to a halt in front of the door.

He knocked like the other man had and waited.

The door cracked open and a man with a gun ducked his head out.

Remy grabbed him by the hair, jerked the man’s head down and his knee up, connecting with the guard’s nose.

The man went down, blood spewing from his broken nose.

His team was already behind him, ready to storm the stronghold, take down the bad guys and free any captives. Irish made quick work of securing the man and his mouth and dragged him into the dark where they’d been hiding.

The team entered the labyrinth of storerooms and offices, checking each door along the hallway.

Remy took one side of the hallway, Tuck took the other and they cleared each room until the hallway ended in a T-junction. The sound of voices drew them to the right.

Angry shouts made Remy break into a run.

Then a loud bang echoed off the ceilings and the voices went silent for a moment.

His heart in his throat, Remy ran toward the end of the hallway where the sound had originated. Footsteps pounded behind him.

Two men emerged from a doorway three feet in front of Remy. When they spotted him, they drew their guns.

Before they could fire, Remy and Tuck plowed into them like linebackers on a winning football team. They slammed them to the floor and knocked their guns from their hands. Remy rolled his guy over and yanked his arm up toward the middle of his back.

“Help!” the man shouted.

Remy rammed the guy’s face into the concrete and he lay still, out cold.

Swede jumped on the man Tuck had pinned, pulled his arms behind his back and slapped handcuffs on his wrists.

Tuck pressed the man’s face so hard to the floor, he couldn’t shout, but he grunted a lot. Pulling a bandana from his back pocket, Tuck stuffed it into the man’s mouth, careful not to get his fingers bitten off.

Two men down. How many more did Rocco have to defend the place?

A big guy emerged from the door at the end of the hallway.

Remy leaped to his feet and charged. If the man spotted the team before he got to him, the bad guy might pull back, lock the door and kill Mitchell before Remy could get to her.

The man’s eyes widened when he saw what was going on and his cheeks flushed an angry red. He drew his gun and stepped back.

Seeing his chance slipping away and still too far away from the man to get there on time, Remy threw himself into a slide like a baseball player sliding into home. With his feet in front of him, he hit the man’s ankles, knocking his legs out from under his body.

The man fell sideways, hit his head on the doorframe and stayed down.

Remy bounced back on his feet and dove over the downed man into the room.

A woman screamed.

Rolling to the side, Remy came up, pointing his handgun at the men advancing on him.

“Eyes right, Remy!” Mitchell shouted.

His gaze cut to the right. Too late. A man kicked the gun out of his hand and it flew across the room under a chair. The same man reared back to kick him again.

This time Remy was ready. He grabbed the man’s leg and yanked hard. The guy fell flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

Another man flew at Remy.

At the last second, Remy stepped to the side, his gaze sweeping the room.

The man missed and crashed into the wall.

Tuck, Swede, Fish and Irish entered the room, guns drawn.

“Put down your weapons or someone will get hurt,” Tuck said.

“That’s right. Someone is going to get hurt.” Candi, the redheaded dancer from the Naughty Ladies Lounge, held a gun to Mitchell’s temple while Rocco pinched her arms behind her back. The woman snorted. “That’s right. Put them down or this bitch dies.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists or human traffickers,” Irish said.

“Then you won’t miss her.” Candi pressed the gun harder and Mitchell’s head tilted away.

Mitchell’s body went limp. Rocco struggled to hold onto her as she slid toward the floor. When her head cleared the barrel of the weapon Candi held on her temple, Mitchell kicked. Her foot flew up in the air with those impossibly shiny, thigh-high boots. The sharp toe of the boot caught Candi’s arm, flinging it upward.

A shot rang out, and then the gun flew through the air to crash on the ground in front of a group of men crowded near the back of the room, hands raised.

“Touch that gun and I’ll blow your head off,” Remy warned.

“We don’t want trouble,” one of the men said.

“Too late, you’ve already got it.” Irish advanced three feet and pointed his AR15 at the men.

Mitchell rolled out of Rocco’s reach and pulled Kelli into her arms, shielding her. She turned to Candi and Rocco. “You two will never ruin another human being’s life ever again.”

Seeing her safely away from harm allowed him a moment’s relief. Remy’s gaze met Mitchell’s and his heart swelled with the love he felt for her. She was one of the toughest and yet most sensitive and caring women he knew. No other woman had touched him as deeply as Mitchell. He’d be lucky to have her in his life. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to help a friend in need. Only he didn’t want to be just friends, he wanted more.

Despite the nature of their jobs, they could make it work. Couldn’t they? He didn’t know how he’d do it, but somehow he had to convince Mitchell they were meant to be together.

“The cavalry is here,” Nacho’s voice spoke in Remy’s ear. “I’ll brief them and bring them in while Big Bird holds down the rooftop.”

“Roger,” Remy replied.

Before long, the NCIS, FBI and local police swarmed over the warehouse. Ambulances lined the road outside and the women were loaded and taken to local hospitals for a full evaluation.

Candi and Rocco were led away in handcuffs, the law enforcement officers reading them their rights.

After giving her statement to her boss and the FBI, Mitchell climbed into the ambulance with Kelli and rode to the hospital.

Time dragged, and she hadn’t seen Remy since he’d stormed into that room where she and Kelli had been placed on display for sale to the highest bidder. And she missed him. But the women who’d been held captive had to be taken care of first. How many other women had not been as lucky to escape being sold into sexual slavery? Mitchell prayed the authorities could trace them and return them to their homes.

At the hospital, Mitchell and Kelli were checked and released with a stern warning to drink lots of fluid to flush any of the remaining drugs from their systems.

“You know you don’t have to take me home.” Kelli stood in the lobby of the Emergency Room, a blanket draped over her shoulders. “I can get there on my own. I know you’re late for your hot date with that Navy SEAL.”

“It can wait.” Mitchell could think of nothing she’d like better than to see Remy and snuggle up to him in bed, but she wouldn’t abandon the woman who’d spent the past week in captivity. “I don’t want to leave you alone the first night back.”

“Thanks.” Kelli hugged her. “But I’m okay. Just glad to be out of that hell hole.”

“Let me call a cab. My car is at the lounge. I can get it tomorrow.”

“You ladies need a ride?” A deep, and familiar, voice called out behind Mitchell.

Mitchell spun, her heart leaped into her throat and tears welled in her eyes.

Remy stood with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a huge heart-shaped box of chocolates in the other. “Seems to me, you owe me a date.”

A tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away. “I believe I do. But I can’t leave Kelli alone after all that’s happened.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have a solution for you both.” A grin stole across his face.

“You do?” Mitchell and Kelli said at once.

Remy nodded as he stepped closer. “The team is over at Irish’s apartment, next door to mine. They’re too wound up to sleep, and will be up all night with a John Wayne movie marathon. Irish has a spare bedroom with clean sheets. I thought Kelli might feel safe with a bunch of SEALs guarding her bedroom door. And if she can’t sleep, she can join the guys.” He tilted his head. “What do you say, Kelli? Mitchell will be next door.”

“Oh, I will?” Mitchell cocked a brow. “Since when do you make my decisions for me?”

He held up his offerings. “I brought bribes.”

With the box of chocolates and the flowers, he looked so damned adorable, Mitchell couldn’t hold the stern look long. She turned to Kelli.

“I don’t think I could sleep alone in my apartment. Having my own guards outside my door appeals to me.” Kelli nodded. “I’d love to, as long as I can get a long hot shower and clean clothes.”

“Done.” Handing the flowers to Kelli and the chocolates to Mitchell, Remy performed a sharp about-face then offered his arms to both women and escorted them to his waiting SUV.

The drive to the apartment complex took far longer than Mitchell could remember as she sat on the edge of her seat, her body already on fire with the need to be close to Remy, naked and making love. By the time they pulled into the parking lot of his apartment, every nerve was hopping beneath her skin. When he helped her down from the SUV, his hand on her arm sent a series of electric shocks racing through her all the way to her core, and a flush of heat spread outward. Tonight, the timing would be perfect.

Helping Kelli down from the SUV, Remy once again offered his arms to escort them into the building and up to Irish’s apartment. He pressed Mitchell’s hand against his side, hardly able to wait to get her alone.

The guys jumped to their feet when Kelli and Mitchell entered and introduced themselves one by one.

“If you should need me to chase the monsters out from under your bed…” Irish pointed to his chest, “I’m your man.”

“Don’t let him fool you.” Swede pushed Irish aside. “He’s afraid of his own shadow. I’ll be there if you so much as sneeze. No one will get past me.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about bad guys sneaking past us. We’ll take care of you,” Dustman promised.

Kelli laughed. “I’m more worried about getting a shower right now than anything else. And is that pizza?” She stared at the open boxes littering the counter in the kitchen.

“You bet, it is. We saved you some.” Big Bird scrounged through the boxes, tossing one after the other into the trash until he located a box still containing pizza and held it up, proudly. “See?”

“Great.” Kelli turned to Mitchell with a smile. “I’m getting a shower, eating pizza and sleeping until noon tomorrow. I’ll be fine with these guys.”

Mitchell frowned and cast a concerned glance over her shoulder at the room full of men. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Kelli hugged her and whispered loud enough for Remy to hear, “And I want all the juicy details tomorrow.” She winked at him, making his neck and cheeks heat.

Mitchell laughed, let go of her friend and stepped into the curve of Remy’s arms. “Then goodnight.” She turned and practically yanked Remy’s arm out of his socket racing for the door.

“Remy, don’t do anything we wouldn’t do?” Swede called out.

“Mitchell, if you get bored with him, I’m younger, in better shape and have a lot more stamina,” Irish yelled.

“Shut up.” Remy pulled the door closed behind him and tugged Mitchell into his arms. “We don’t have to leave Kelli if it bothers you.”

Mitchell wrapped her arms around his neck. “She’s safe and she knows where to find me if she gets scared. Though that would be hard to do with those SEALs in the next room.” She laughed. “I really was looking forward to that date with you.”

“I was more worried about you. And now that you’re safe…” He closed the distance, his mouth hovering over hers. “Seems we skipped right past the date thing the other night.” He raised his chin and pressed his mouth to her forehead and the tip of her nose. “Want to start over?” His lips closed over hers and he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue past her teeth to slide along the length of hers.

“Mmm. Dating is overrated,” she said into his mouth, teasing his tongue with hers.

“How do you feel about foreplay?”

She shoved his shirt over his head. “An absolute necessity. And, oh, about that spanking the other night…”

A flash of guilt washed over him. Sometimes, he didn’t know his own strength and he had really gotten into the role playing. “Was I too rough?”

“Just the opposite.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hallway to his apartment. “Make it sting a little more. That makes me even hotter.”

Her words made all his blood rush south. Once inside, with the door shut, Remy pulled the faux leather jacket off her shoulders and tossed it over the lounge chair. “You’re keeping the outfit, aren’t you?”

“It belongs to the Naughty Ladies Lounge,” she said, untying the stings holding the corset together in front.

“And the owner will be in jail. I’m pretty sure the lounge won’t remain open.”

Mitchell paused, the strings wrapped around her fingers. “What will happen to Dixie Lee? She won’t be able to afford her rent.” Her brows wrinkled into a frown.

“We’ll look into it tomorrow.” He took over the unlacing of her corset, making quick work of it and stretching it wide enough to pull over her head.

Once free of it, she sucked in a deep breath and plumped her breasts with a groan. “I could barely breathe in that thing.”

Remy bent to capture one of the tips between his teeth, rolling it over his tongue before he sucked it fully into his mouth.

Mitchell’s head dropped back, exposing the long glorious line of her neck.

“Sorry, but foreplay is about to be over.” Remy scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He stripped the G-string down her legs, leaving her wearing only the thigh-high black shiny boots.

“Are you going to help me out of these?” she asked, leaning forward to search for the long zipper.

“No.” He grabbed her hands and held them. “I’m really liking you like this. If you can’t keep the outfit, I’ll buy you another just like it.”

She backed onto the bed, crossing one long booted leg over the other. “Like it, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” Blood pounded in his ears.

“Guess you’ll have to show me how much.” With a wink, she kicked one boot into the air.

Remy shucked his trousers and boots and stretched out on the bed beside her, his hand traveling up one of her calves to her thigh and the curve of her hip. He parted her legs and slid his hand along the inside of her thigh, gently brushing his fingers across her skin. God, she was beautiful.

Sighing, she spread her legs wider and cupped his hand, drawing it up to her center. “I thought you’d never get here.” Guiding his fingers, she pressed them into her wet channel and swirled them around. “Think you can take it from here?”

He smiled, the feel of her readiness making him rock hard. “I’ve got this.” Remy shoved her hands above her head and held them in one of his while the other parted her folds and stroked the tender strip of flesh between.

Mitchell’s body arched off the bed, her hips rising. “That’s the way to do it. Right there.”

He stopped and leaned back, admiring her beautiful body and the way her cheeks flushed when she was hot with desire. “Before we go any further, we should probably clear the air.”

“What?” Mitchell jerked her hands from his grasp and leaned up on her elbows. “What air? You can’t stop now,” she wailed. “We were just getting started.”

With a chuckle, Remy stroked her there again. Just once. “I want you to know that I’m over my guilt for what we did to Brewsky.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Her words came out in short bursts. “It wasn’t right, but it’s the past.”

“Exactly. Which brings up the point.” He knew what he wanted to say and couldn’t stop a knot from forming in the center of his chest.

“The point that you’re wasting a perfectly good orgasm by talking too much?” She shook her head.

Smoothing a hand over her hip, Remy smiled. “That I love you and I don’t want to be a once-in-a-while fling with you.”

Mitchell grew still, her eyes wide, her bottom lip trembling. “Oh, baby.” She cupped his cheek in her palm. “Besides chocolate and flowers, that is the nicest gift you could have given me for Valentine’s Day.” She pressed her lips to his and kissed him long and hard, her arms circling his neck, dragging him back to the mattress.

After a few moments, Remy stopped kissing her and leaned back, frowning. “And?”

“And what?” She winked up at him.

“When a man tells a woman he loves her, he hopes she’ll return the affection.” He held his breath, waiting for her response, knowing how she’d felt about her job and relationships a year ago. He had no idea how she felt now. He swallowed hard. “If you don’t love me enough to commit now, I’ll wait. I’ll show you how good it can be—you and me.”

Eyes twinkling, Mitchell pressed a finger to his lips. “Shut up, frogman.”

“But you haven’t said—”

“I love you, and I want to be with you.” She pushed a strand of his hair back from his forehead and kissed his lips in a light brush. “When I was held captive, all I could think about was getting out to be with you. I know how you feel about your job.”

“And I know how you feel about yours.” The knot in his chest loosened and he pressed his forehead to hers. “There will be lots of time where we’re apart.”

“We’ll make it work.”

Remy sighed and brushed a finger along her soft cheek. “You’re an incredible woman.”

“And you’re not so bad yourself. I’ll always have an image of you storming into that room all macho with your naked chest and tattoos.” Mitchell ran her fingernails along the lines of ink on his shoulders. “Now, is the air cleared? Can we get back down to business?” She lay back on the bed and spread her legs. “You were showing me how much you liked my boots.”

“Oh, yes.” He settled his big body between her legs and sucked one of her breasts into his mouth. “Where was I?”

“Farther down.”

“Here?” He kissed her belly and circled his tongue in her navel.

“You’re getting warmer.”

Scooting down, he nuzzled the mound of hair over her sex, loving the tang of her arousal. “Here?”

“You’re hot.” She ran her fingers through his hair.

“Baby, don’t you know it.” He dove in and tongued her until she screamed out his name, then climbed up her body and thrust into her, hard and deep.

This was where he belonged. And somehow he knew Brewsky was smiling down on him, happy he’d found what he’d been looking and waiting for.

*

Other Titles by Elle James

Deadly Liaisons

Deadly Engagement

Cowboy Resurrected (Covert Cowboys Inc Book#4)

Bodyguard Under Fire (Covert Cowboys Inc Book#3)

Taking Aim (Covert Cowboys Inc Book#2)

Triggered (Covert Cowboys Inc Book#1)

Déjà Voodoo (Cajun Magic Book #3)

Voodoo for Two (Cajun Magic Book #2)

Voodoo on the Bayou (Cajun Magic Book #1)

Tarzan & Janine

Haunted

Demon’s Embrace

Hot Demon Nights

Witch’s Seduction

Witch’s Initiation

Deadly Reckoning

Thunder Horse Redemption

Thunder Horse Heritage

Hostage to Thunder Horse

Wild at Heart

Engaged with the Boss

Cowboy Brigade

Time Raiders: The Whisper

Bundle of Trouble

Killer Body

Operation XOXO

An Unexpected Clue

Baby Bling

Nick of Time

Under Suspicion, With Child

Texas-Sized Secrets

Alaskan Fantasy

Blown Away

Cowboy Sanctuary

Lakota Baby

Dakota Meltdown

Beneath the Texas Moon

Breaking Free

Book 1 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers

Teresa J. Reasor

Copyright © 2011 Teresa J. Reasor

EPUB Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Prologue

‡

Damn thing fits like a coffin lid. Lieutenant “Hawk” Yazzie eyed the edge of what had once been the outer wall of a building balanced above him. Sweat trickled across his shoulder blade down his side. He thrust aside the claustrophobic pressure and focused on the two lookouts on the roof through night vision binoculars. They weren’t moving. Good.

Come on, come on.

A silhouette appeared in the second story window. The light behind the man gave the impression of broad shoulders and a stocky frame. The rifle slung over his arm, the firearm’s barrel pointed skyward, identified him as another hostile. Hawk squinted but couldn’t make out his features. He’d counted six men upstairs earlier. Was this one of them or someone new?

Three clicks came over the radio. “Doc”, Zack O’Connor signaled he was finished and in position.

Hawk pushed the call button on his radio in answer.

Where the hell were Cutter and Strong Man?

Derrick Armstrong, “Strong Man” broke radio silence. “We have a problem, over.”

Hawk’s muscles tensed.

“C’s a no show, over,” Strong Man whispered.

Fuck. The last assignment of their tour, and fucking Murphy’s Law decides to kick in.

Hawk pressed the switch on his belt triggering his throat mike. “Cutter, come in, over.”

Damn it, Cutter, respond.

Silence.

“Last location, over?” Hawk asked.

“Ground floor. I thought he was right behind me, over.”

Hawk blinked the sweat from his eye.

“Five minutes, over.” Oliver Shaker, “Greenback”, their rear security, came across calm, level, reminding them they needed to get the hell out of here.

God damn it.

He’d never lost a man and Cutter wasn’t going to be the first.

“I’m going back in for him, over.” Hawk shook free of his pack and slithered like a lizard from beneath the slab, pushing his submachine gun ahead of him and kicking up dust.

There was always dust in this dry desert country. God, he was sick of it.

He belly crawled to the cracked wall fifteen feet to his right. The rush of adrenaline pumping through his system thrust his heart into overdrive.

He pushed to his feet behind a half wall still standing and glanced up at the second floor. Everything appeared still. All hell would have broken loose if they’d discovered Cutter. He was either trapped somewhere inside and waiting for an opportunity to escape or something worse.

Shit.

Hawk drew a deep breath and assessed the situation. He’d have to go up the street out of sight of the lookouts, go across, and work his way back. Keeping to the shadows next to the crumbled wall, he moved east down the strip of abandoned buildings.

Gravel crunched just ahead. He dodged into a doorway and flattened himself against the wall. Shadows closed around him like a cocoon.

A man strode by, a rifle held in the bend of his arm. He clasped a flashlight and projected a small golden circle on the broken sidewalk before him.

Hawk withdrew his SOG knife and fell in behind the tango. Concrete debris crunched beneath his feet. The man started to turn. Hawk slit his throat and any sound he might have made strangled to a gurgle. Hawk caught him as he sagged, dragged the body to a doorway, and rolled it into the shadows.

He took off his helmet, tossed it aside, and peeled off his tack vest. The cloying, coppery scent of blood hit him as he jerked the tango’s shirt free and put it on over his body armor. With his dark hair and skin, he’d pass for one of them.

Maybe.

Hanging the MP-5 down his spine, he retrieved the MK-47 rifle and flashlight.

Seconds ticked by in his head like a metronome. Two minutes thirty seconds. His muscles jerked with his efforts to keep his pace to a stroll when everything in him urged him to run.

A voice called from the second story window asking if he’d seen anything. His heart rate surged.

Think.

Answer him.

He formulated an answer in the local Kurdish dialect. Sweat ran in itchy rivulets down his spine beneath the Kevlar vest that hugged his torso.

The man said something about a cold. Hawk grunted an agreement.

He thumbed off the rifle’s safety and putting his finger on the trigger, dodged into the building through the front door. The room opened into a dark, empty hallway. After a moment’s pause, he flipped on the flashlight and trotted down the hall to the fourth doorway on the left.

A voice called from upstairs asking what he was doing.

“Getting my ass blown up,” he murmured beneath his breath. He darted into the back storage room. Crates stacked nearly to the ceiling lined the walls. One crate stood open, straw spilt onto the floor around it. AK-47 rifles lay nestled inside.

Intel was right. They had to get out of here.

Hawk flicked the flashlight back and forth as he worked his way through Cutter’s route.

A black piece of fabric sticking out from behind some furniture caught his attention and he jogged to it. Cutter lay crumpled into a ball behind a heavily carved cabinet, his helmet beside him. Blood coated the side of his head near his temple and pooled on the floor.

Jesus. What the fuck happened? Hawk bent to check for a pulse. It beat weak and thready beneath his fingertips.

He glanced at his watch. One minute. Fear ripped through him. His breathing grew labored. He laid the flashlight and rifle atop some crates and swung his MP-5 into position under his arm. Bending, he heaved Cutter’s limp frame up and over his shoulder.

Forty-five seconds. Hawk’s stomach and back muscles grew taut as he adjusted to the one hundred and seventy pounds of limp weight with an effort.

He poked his head out. The hall light flashed on. A tango blinked at Hawk in surprise. He shouted an alarm as he raised a pistol and closed the distance between them at a run.

The forty-five automatic’s muzzle looked like a cannon. And sounded like one as the tango fired.

Wood splintered from the door facing close to Hawk’s face. He swung the submachine gun up and pulled the trigger in a controlled burst. Red blossomed across the tango’s chest, the force of the bullets throwing him back against the wall. His body bounced off the surface then crumpled to the floor. Footsteps pounded above.

What a clusterfuck. They were sitting ducks in the hallway. Hawk sprayed the hall light with bullets killing it, then sprinted down the hallway to the front door. The timer in his head counted off the seconds, thirty-five—. He leveled a short burst of fire at the doorknob and it flew open. He struggled through the opening.

Bullets peppered the road and dogged his steps from above, ricocheting off the asphalt around him. Muzzle flashes exploded like sunspots in front of him as his men laid down suppressing fire.

Another shot of adrenaline coursed through his veins making Cutter’s body seem like a featherweight as he zigzagged towards the cover of the crumpled wall he’d left five minutes before.

A foot away from safety, the sky lit and his ears popped. The ground heaved throwing him up and forward. Cutter’s body flew through the air like a rag doll.

The world came crashing down.

Chapter One

‡

“Hawk.”

Zoe Weaver’s heart lurched at the masculine voice behind her. She looked over her shoulder, her gaze searching the group of casually dressed naval personnel who took up most of the backyard and deck. Several men called out greetings and converged on the tall man balanced on crutches just inside the wooden gate.

Hawk’s midnight dark hair stood out against the lighter toned heads that surrounded him. His high forehead, sculpted cheekbones, and angular jaw were a study in pride and control as well as his Native American heritage. She had only a moment to admire the bone deep masculine beauty of his features before his pale gray gaze homed in on her. Shock reverberated from her midsection to the bottoms of her feet. Her heart rate kicked into a gallop.

Realizing her prolonged stare could be misconstrued; she turned her attention back to the tray of hamburgers she was replenishing. Had she known he would be coming to the Marks’ barbecue, she’d have made some excuse to avoid the gathering.

Just his presence made her hands tremble and her stomach to somersault. A burst of resentment tightened her shoulders. She took a deep breath, drawing in the scents of chlorine, suntan lotion, and grilling meat as her rapid-fire heartbeat continued to thump against her ribs.

The man was six foot, four inches of Navy Brass through and through. He’d probably bleed Brasso if he scraped his elbow. The analogy wasn’t true, but it served to remind herself of whom and what he was. A Navy SEAL. Through and through.

Since meeting him six days earlier, she’d found it hard to push aside the impression he had made, or the anger she experienced because of it.

“I screwed up,” had been the way Hawk had put it. Without any details. She understood injuries happened in combat, but he made no bones about taking the blame for her brother’s condition. Like a good team leader.

To hell with that.

She wanted answers, not military platitudes.

She couldn’t direct her rage at a situation, only at the man claiming responsibility. A likely military ploy.

Every time she went to the hospital and saw her brother hooked up to tubes and wires, she experienced another surge of emotion, grief and fear.

The strongest of them, fear.

She needed to know what had happened to Brett.

She scanned the small clumps of people scattered around the yard eating and drinking. Langley Marks, her host, had finally abandoned his position at the grill and joined some of the men at the volleyball net set up in the corner of the yard. Others sat at one end of the deck in the shade, watching the game and calling out encouragement to the players.

Under any other circumstances, this trip to California would have been a treat. The weather remained beautiful, the temperatures a moderate seventy degrees. Palm trees loomed over the wooden privacy fence encircling the yard. Hibiscus shrubs, hugged the deck, their big fuchsia blossoms a splash of color against the lightly stained wood that matched the sand-hued stucco on the house’s exterior walls.

High-pitched squeals coming from the pool drew her attention. Her mother and sister sat poolside with Trish Marks, encircled by a ring of female supporters, wives and girlfriends of the men present.

The deep worry lines etched into her mother’s face were a testament to her own beliefs. Getting involved with a man in uniform was just asking for pain. A father and possibly a brother were enough to give for her country.

The muted tones of a child’s voice broke into her reverie. She looked around the food-laden picnic table in search of the source. Limping around the corner of the table, she spied a small discarded sandal peeking out from under the tablecloth. She kneeled and pulled up the edge of the plastic to look beneath.

Pale blond ringlets obscured the child’s face as she danced a bathing suit clad Barbie doll, minus its shoes, across the decking and inserted her, legs first, into a pink, plastic convertible.

“Katie Beth what are you doing under there?”

“Playin’.”

The simple logic of the child’s answer had her shaking her head. Ask a dumb question.

“Come out, baby.”

Katie Beth looked up briefly before going back to her make-believe car journey. Pale blue eyes and a rounded jaw, much like her own, held the Weaver stubbornness she recognized all too well. “Don’t want to.”

“Why not, sweetheart?”

A pale pink lip protruded. “Grandma and mommy keep crying. I don’t like it.”

With a weary sigh, she rested her forehead against the edge of the table. “May I come in with you?”

Katie Beth cocked her head as though considering the request. “Okay.”

She crawled beneath the table with her niece. With a four year old’s trusting affection, Katie Beth climbed into her lap and cuddled back against her. Zoe rested her chin against the blond curls and breathed in the baby powder and sun block scent that clung to her.

“Grandma and mommy are very sad,” she explained as she adjusted one strap of the hot pink bathing suit over the fragile curve of the child’s shoulder.

Katie Beth’s voice dwindled to a whisper. “Uncle Brett is sick.”

“Uncle Brett was hurt while doing something very important, sweetheart.” Her voice sounded husky and soft around the lump in her throat. “He wanted us to be safe. He wanted other little girls and boys like you to be safe, too.”

“Mommy said I can’t go see him.”

“That’s right. But—” her voice wobbled, and she cleared her throat. “Once he gets better, he’ll come home and you’ll get to see him then.”

A beat of silence followed, then with her normal precocious bluntness Katie Beth asked, “Is Uncle Brett going to visit God like Grandma Rose?”

“No.” Her arms tightened around the child as she fought back her own fear and uncertainty. “He’s going to come home to us.” She sought something to distract the child. “Would you like to be my helper, Katie Beth?”

“Okay.”

“We have to help Mommy and Grandma feel better. You know what helps me feel better?”

Katie Beth shook her head.

“Getting your hugs makes me feel better. Why don’t you go give Grandma and Mommy a hug, so they can feel better, too?”

“Okay. I’ll take Barbie so she can hug them, too.”

“I think that would be a good idea, sweetheart.”

Katie Beth wiggled free and crawled from beneath the table, the doll clutched in her hand.

Some of the tension that drummed at Zoe’s temples relaxed and she rested her forehead against her bent knee.

“Hello there, little bit.”

She stiffened at the sound of Hawk’s distinctive deep voice.

“What happened to your leg?” Katie Beth asked.

“I hurt it, but the doctor’s are making it all better.”

Zoe crawled forward to peek from beneath the table just as the child lunged forward and hugged Hawk’s good leg.

His eyes widened in surprise, and after a minute hesitation, cupped the back of her head. Her blond ringlets curled between his long fingers. A smile touched his lips. Katie Beth jerked away as quickly as she had hugged him and ran through the guests toward her grandmother.

Hawk’s attention settled on Zoe as she crawled from beneath the table and settled back on her heels. She took in the crutches and the bulk of the knee brace clamped around his leg. The denim of his cut-offs hugged his muscular thighs. A white tee shirt stretched across the broad width of his chest, delineating the shape of a well-toned torso. A strip of gauze covered a four-inch section of his arm just above his elbow. Bruises already turning yellow peppered his legs and arms. How had he gotten those injuries? The rest of the team seemed free from any.

“If you’ll have a seat I’ll fill you a plate and bring it to you, Lieutenant.”

One black brow quirked at her stiffly formal tone. “No thanks, though I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee.”

She nodded and flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder. Conscious of his regard, her limp had never seemed more conspicuous as she traversed the distance to the coffee pot and back, returning with a Styrofoam cup. “You prefer it black, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Instead of going to sit at one of the tables with the other men, he hiked a hip on the deck railing, propped his crutches beside him, and reached for the cup.

“That knee will swell if you stay on it too long,” she warned him.

“I know. Brett told me you were a physical therapist. How long have you been practicing?” He sipped the coffee.

“Two years. I can get you a chair.”

His smile flashed white against the swarthiness of his skin. “If I allow you to get me a chair, you’ll disappear as soon as I sit down.”

His words fired her cheeks with heat and her temper at the same time. She held her tongue to keep the peace in front of the other guests.

“Your mother said your sister was returning home with Katie Beth tomorrow.”

She nodded. Where was he going with this topic of conversation?

“I want to help, if you’ll let me.”

“How?”

“I know you and your mother are staying at a motel, which is pretty expensive. I also know that Brett’s one bedroom will be pretty cramped. I live off post and can offer you both a place to stay until Brett is well.”

Surprised, she studied his expression. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because Brett is a member of the team and part of our family. When you place your life in another man’s hands you get pretty close.”

Her brother had placed his life in this man’s hands and had nearly been killed. Looking into the steady gray gaze she couldn’t level that accusation at him, though the thought bounced around in her head. She didn’t wish Hawk ill. She just wanted her brother well again.

Part of what he said was true, though. Many of Brett’s letters home held news of Hawk and the other men in his SEAL team. He spoke of them as though they were brothers—especially Hawk.

“I’ve spoken with your mother about it and she’s agreed, but only under the condition that you agree as well.”

Her attention swung back to her mother. The financial strain of staying at a motel had been worrying her. But what about the strain of living under the same roof as Hawk? With this sorry ma’am it’s classified crap hanging between them and the attraction she fought to suppress.

Hawk would probably be embarrassed if he knew. She didn’t want to dwell on the humiliation she’d face if he discovered it. She’d been through that before.

“You could make sure I don’t overdo my PT. With our training we’re used to pushing ourselves. As I understand it, I can’t do that with a soft tissue injury.”

“No, you can’t.” More at ease in a professional capacity than a personal one, the tension in her neck and shoulders eased. “If you push too hard before you have a chance to heal, you’ll be back to square one.”

“Then it’s good I’ll have you there to offer me advice. What do you say, Zoe?”

How was she supposed to hide her attraction for him, when he seemed determined to draw her out?

“When you’re accustomed to living alone, even one extra person can be too many, Lieutenant. Perhaps you should give this idea a little more thought. You don’t really know us very well. You’d be taking strangers into your home.”

“And though your mother has met me before, I’m a stranger to you.”

She hated the cowardice that had her jumping on any excuse to avoid getting closer to him. “Yes, you are.”

A smile laced with charm quirked one side of his mouth upward. “Uncle Sam trusts me. Don’t you think you could trust me too?”

She folded her arms against her waist. “You don’t really expect to get anywhere with that line, do you, Lieutenant?” she asked, her tone dry.

He chuckled, the sound deep and masculine. “I couldn’t resist. My motives aren’t entirely altruistic. I’ll be at PT once a day. I can adjust my schedule to coincide with the times you and your mother visit with Brett at the hospital. I can’t drive and I know you’ve rented a car. We could ride in together and you could share my car and turn the rental back in. It’ll save me from taking a bus or taxi or calling one of the men for a ride.”

She took his empty cup, careful not to touch him. “More?”

*

Hawk shook his head. Damn she was stubborn.

Was she as determined to hold onto her antagonism toward him as she was in denying the magnetic sparks that arced between them? He watched the swing of her long hazelnut ponytail as she went to the garbage can and tossed the cup away. That heavy swath of tawny hair naturally streaked with blond seemed to beckon provocatively “follow me”.

The trim, tight curve of her hips and buttocks drew his attention. A vision of him cupping her rounded derriere in his hands lanced through his thoughts with the impact of a cruise missile. His mouth went dry and his breathing grew short.

Why was he leaving himself open to frustration and rejection? She obviously wanted no part of him, and being Brett’s sister, he couldn’t pursue her anyway. Brett would expect him to protect her, not try to coax her into bed. The only reason he’d offered them a place to stay was to look after them. Wasn’t it?

The slight hitch in her stride didn’t bother him. Brett had told him about the accident that had nearly cost her a leg. She was a fighter, stubborn and strong. He recognized those qualities in her already. But Brett hadn’t said anything about her obvious distrust of men. He hadn’t told him how delicate and lovely she was, either. The slender self-assured young woman who stood before him looked very little like the gangly twelve year old child with freckles across her nose in the photograph Brett carried in his wallet.

To give her time to think about his offer, he changed the subject. “You’re very good with your niece.”

A small smile, the first he had seen thus far, peeked out. “She’s been around for a while, so I’ve had a little practice. She’s unhappy because she hasn’t been allowed to see Brett. Sharon thinks it would be too upsetting for her even if she could.”

He read the strain in the faint, bluish shadows beneath her eyes and the lines around her mouth. The numerous hours she spent with her brother at the hospital were already wearing her down.

“When are you going back to the hospital?”

“At seven-thirty. They’ll let us stay till nine, but won’t let us stay the night.”

“You have to rest sometime, Zoe. Brett will need you once he wakes up.”

If he woke up.

He could see the words punch through her thoughts as they did his.

“I’d like to go with you,” he added, drawing her unusual pale blue gaze back up.

He noticed the dark blue ring around the lighter blue of the iris, the sweep of dark brown lashes, and the unblemished texture of her complexion. Would her skin be as smooth on other parts of her body?

Wayward parts of his anatomy responded to the thought.

Hawk cursed beneath his breath. Focus. Complete the mission. Get Zoe and Mrs. Weaver settled in his house and look out for them until Brett recovered and could do it himself. That’s what Cutter would do if something happened to him—if he’d had any family left to look out for. An ache settled beneath his breastbone for a moment. He twisted his thoughts back to the task at hand.

“I’ll have to drop Mom, Sharon, and Katie Beth off at the motel. Sharon needs to rest and so does Mother.”

“What about you, Zoe?”

“I’m doing Okay.”

The stubborn tilt to her chin brought a smile to his lips. He hadn’t seen much resemblance to Brett until then.

A squeal and splash from the pool caught her attention. She straightened and looked toward the water.

“Doc’s in the pool with Katie Beth and Langley’s children. He won’t let anything happen to them,” he said.

He thought she might be beginning to relax with him when another smile tilted her lips.

“Katie Beth swims like a fish. She’s also fearless. He may find he’s bitten off more than he can chew.”

“It must be a family trait. I’ve never seen Brett back off of anything, either. And from what he’s told me, you can hold your own.”

Her smile died as quickly as it had blossomed and her expression grew shuttered. “I hope you’re right, Lieutenant. Brett’s going to need everything he’s got to come back from this. So will the rest of us. Please excuse me, I’d better check on my sister.’”

He swore beneath his breath as she limped across the deck and down the steps.

“How about a beer to drown those flames,” Chief Petty Officer Langley Marks said as he held out a bottle dripping with condensation. His quick grin slid into a smirk. “Don’t take it to heart, Hawk. The lady hasn’t been any more receptive to any of the other men.”

“It isn’t like that, Lang. She’s Brett’s sister, she’s off limits.”

Langley’s thick brows rose. “You’d better fill the other men in on that, then. More than one of them has been urging her to test the waters.”

He experienced a quick twinge of irritation. “And?”

“She never even got her toes wet.”

He fought the smile that tugged at his lips. “Good. If just one of them gets involved with her, there’ll be hell to pay when Cutter wakes up.”

Words of doubt weren’t voiced, but hung between them. They both tipped their beers upward.

“I’ve offered them a place to stay until Brett recovers.”

“Jesus, Hawk.” Langley’s lantern jaw hung open a moment. “I don’t think you have a clue what you’re taking on here.”

“Probably not, but I’ll get by.” He rolled the half empty bottle between his palms, mindful of mixing alcohol and the pain medication he’d taken. “There’s room for them and I’m not there much.”

“You will be until that knee heals,” Langley pointed out.

“I’ll be taking another language class while I’m recovering, and once the swelling goes down, I’ll have PT about an hour a day.”

“Damn son, don’t you ever relax?”

Hawk smiled.

Langley rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to make sure you don’t throw your underwear around, take out the trash after dinner each night, and put the toilet seat down.”

“If that’s all you do around here, it’s no wonder Trish does so well while you’re gone,” he said.

Langley grinned. “There are a few other things I take care of that I didn’t mention. If the situation changes between you and Ms. Weaver, I could offer you a few pointers.”

Hawk took a swallow of beer. He wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship, and Zoe Weaver had permanent written all over her. Permanent meant being there when you were needed, and as long as he was with the Teams he couldn’t be. “It’s not happening. She’s Cutter’s sister. I’m not laying a hand on her. Besides, her mother will be there to chaperone.”

“I can see how that would put a cramp in your style, which leads us to another problem. If you’re not laying hands on her, you won’t be laying hands on any other female on the premises while they’re staying there.”

He shrugged. “I can lay hands somewhere else then.”

Langley grew thoughtful. “You’re really serious about this.”

“Yeah.”

“It could be months, Hawk, it could be never.”

Pain twisted his gut into knots. “So could my knee. It doesn’t hurt anything to keep a positive attitude, to hold onto hope. I figure if they can,” he pointed the neck of the bottle he held in Zoe and her mother’s direction, “I can.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Hawk. None of us knew Brett was in trouble. If you’re doing this out of some misplaced feelings of guilt—”

“It was my responsibility to keep track of my men.”

“You saved his life, man, and damn near got killed doing it. No one could ask any more from you than that.”

But it didn’t change the fact that Brett was hurt. He viewed the operation as a personal failure, though they had succeeded in destroying the building. The whole point of the mission was to get in and out without shots being fired, without injuries being sustained.

What had happened to Brett in that building? Who was responsible for his injuries? Until he knew the answer, it would continue to drive him crazy.

His gaze strayed to Zoe as she sat next to the pool in a lawn chair and watched the children paddling in the water. Doc O’Connor, the corpsman of the team, sat beside her on the concrete. She smiled at something he said then shook her head. The man took her hand and pressed it over his heart. She laughed then withdrew her hand and wagged a finger at him in a negative motion.

The tension drained from his shoulders and back when she rose to call Katie Beth out of the pool. Keeping Zoe Weaver from becoming involved with one of the team members was going to be a challenge. He could handle it.

Finding out what had happened to Brett Weaver would prove more difficult. But he’d do it.

He had to know.

Chapter Two

‡

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe caught Hawk’s gaze focused on her as she maneuvered the car through a busy intersection. His presence in the seat next to her bred a hypersensitivity to her driving skills.

Surreptitiously, she glanced at him. He appeared at ease, his hands resting on his thighs. His right leg encased in a brace looked a mile long as it stretched beneath the dashboard; the left one appeared tan and muscular. His large frame filled the compact’s passenger seat, leaving little space between them. The clean scent of his cologne mixed with the sun block her mother, Sharon, and Katie Beth had smeared on at the pool.

Katie Beth, having decided to take up with him in a big way, chattered away behind them. “Swan Lake Barbie is the bestest one. She has a beautiful dress.”

“What about Frogman Barbie? Excuse me, Frog Lady Barbie?” he teased, shifting to look over his shoulder.

Katie Beth giggled. “There ain’t no Frog Lady Barbie, Hawk.”

“There isn’t a Frog Lady Barbie,” Clara Weaver corrected quietly. “Ain’t isn’t a word, baby.”

“Sure it is, Grandma, I just said it,” Katie Beth returned.

His grin flashed white. Zoe’s stomach flip-flopped.

“A frogman is a man who swims under water with special tanks on his back filled with air,” he said to Katie Beth.

“Uncle Brett did that in the swimming pool,” she said.

“The last time he was home, he gave the neighbor’s two teenage boys a demonstration in the pool,” Clara said. “Katie Beth was fascinated. I can’t believe she still remembers that. It was over a year ago and she wasn’t quite three.”

“I’m a big girl now, I’m four.” Zoe caught a glimpse of Katie Beth’s curls bouncing with the adamant nod of her head in the rearview mirror.

“I’m sure you’re going to be a big help to your mama, now that you’re going to have a baby brother or sister.”

“It’s going to be another girl,” Sharon said from the back seat. “Right now it feels like there may be two in there.”

“You’ll be more comfortable once you’re home,” he said, his tone soothing.

“I want to stay but my doctor has suggested I come home. My due date’s only eight weeks away, and he doesn’t want me to take any chances.”

The strain in Sharon’s voice had her stomach tightening.

Hawk said, “Brett would want you to do what’s best for the baby. He has the whole team, and your sister and mother, looking out for him. I’ll be around the hospital checking in on him, too. I’m sure your husband wants you home where he can keep an eye on you.”

Zoe agreed. Since being notified of Brett’s injuries, they’d been on constant red alert. The strain was beginning to get to them all. Hawk’s steady strength and air of command seemed a comfort to her mother and sister. And even she experienced a lessening of the pressure while around him.

“We can keep you posted on Brett’s progress and you can keep us posted on yours. Turner will call us the minute you go into labor, if we’re still here by then,” her mother said.

Zoe brushed at the fine strands of hair that had escaped the ponytail holder. She loved her family, but she was eager to get to the hospital to see Brett. They had discussed this before and covering the same ground over and over seemed counterproductive. She could offer her sister only so much reassurance.

“Brett will understand that you have other responsibilities you have to deal with, Sharon,” she said. “We’ve always understood how his responsibilities have precluded things in the past.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sharon agreed.

“Having a brother in the military, especially a SEAL isn’t easy for anyone’s family,” Hawk said.

She fastened her attention on maneuvering through the parking lot and avoided glancing in his direction though she was aware of his gaze resting on her.

Had he recognized the resentment in her tone? Rationalizing that her brother’s job was important and that he loved it didn’t make it any easier. Never knowing where he might be, or how much danger he was in, made it doubly difficult. Fearing he was going to follow in their father’s footsteps, literally, made it impossible.

The motel, a generic five-story structure with balconies all the way around, squatted in the center of a large parking lot. Because of Katie Beth’s proclivity for adventure, they had opted to take a ground floor room and forego the effort it would take to keep her off the balcony.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. She exited the vehicle, leaving the engine running and the air conditioning blowing. Katie Beth jumped out behind her grandmother. She grabbed Zoe’s hand and held on like a Chinese finger puzzle.

Once they were inside the room, she settled Katie before the television to watch cartoons, and then turned to find Sharon in tears.

“There’ll be time for you to see Brett tomorrow morning before your flight,” she soothed. “Who knows, maybe he’ll wake up tonight and tell you good-bye.”

“Damn him, I wish he would.” Sharon clung to her for a moment, her pregnant belly snug against Zoe’s flat one.

“You’re exhausted, Sharon. You need to rest. Mom does, too.” Regret for her earlier impatience pinged away inside her, and she held her sister close. “Mom’s right next door if you need anything. Cuddle Katie Beth and maybe you’ll both sleep a little. I’ll check on you when I get back after visiting hours are over.”

“All right.” Sharon drew back, her nose and eyes red, her face wet. She reached for a tissue on the nightstand and mopped her face.

“Call home and talk to Turner,” Zoe suggested. “It will make you feel better to hear his voice.”

Sharon nodded. “I will.”

Zoe tapped the adjoining door and poked in her head. Her mother looked pale as she lay across the garish blue flowered spread. Her mascara, smeared from rubbing her eyes, crying, or both, underlined the exhaustion that etched her face.

“I’ll be back in a while. Do you need me to pick up anything?”

Clara shook her head. “Give Brett my love.”

Zoe’s throat ached. She gave a brief nod and closed the door.

She hastily checked her own sun-worn appearance in the dresser mirror. Tugging loose the elastic loop holding her hair, and giving the heavy strands a quick brushing, she secured it back into a ponytail. Conscious of Hawk waiting in the car, she ignored the rest of her appearance and hastened to join him.

The pain and frustration seemed easier to deal with if she stayed in motion, if she had a plan of action, a goal. Eventually Brett would wake up, if she hounded him enough. He hadn’t let her give up when it looked as though she might lose her leg. She wouldn’t allow him to either.

She slammed the car door shut and reached for the seatbelt.

Hawk laid a hand on her forearm. “Something happen?”

His fingers, warm and calloused, rested against her bare skin sending a tingling sensation along her nerve endings. “No, why?” She rammed the buckle closed and tried to block off her response.

“You’ve got the same look on your face Brett gets when we’re going into action.”

She gripped the gearshift, but didn’t put it into reverse.

“I know how frustrating it must be not to be able to do something,” he said after a moment of silence.

“I don’t think you do, Lieutenant.” She recognized the edge that had crept into her voice and drew a deep breath.

“He’s not just one of the men under my command, Zoe. He’s also my friend.”

The letters Brett had written to her had been witness to that. “If you’re his friend, then you need to understand something.”

“What’s that?”

She met his pale gray gaze straight on. “I’m not going to let my brother die. He isn’t going to lay there like a vegetable either. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, he’s going to come back from this. If you won’t or can’t believe that, you needn’t bother visiting him.”

He gave a brief nod. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Good.” Some of the tension inside her relaxed. “You can start by telling me what happened.” She put the car in reverse, and turned to look over her shoulder.

“I can’t discuss the mission, Zoe.”

“I’m not asking you to. I don’t care what, where, or when, I just want to know how my brother ended up in harm’s way.” She stopped at a stoplight.

“It’s a war. We were all in danger. That’s our job.”

Those few words, so succinct, so blunt, caught at her heart and gave her a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. The light changed, and she stepped on the gas.

“I realize it’s your job to put yourself in dangerous situations. I’m asking if Brett was hit by flying debris or attacked by someone. How did he end up in a coma?”

His features looked honed from wood. “I’d like to be able to tell you, Zoe, but I can’t. An investigation is underway. I’m not at liberty to talk about it, not even to you.”

A dropping sensation hit her stomach. “No one told us about an investigation.”

“There’s always an investigation when something goes wrong. I’m sure you’ll be notified, now that you’re here.”

She fought the urge to pound the steering wheel in annoyance. “How do the other men’s families feel about this closed lip policy?”

“I’m sure they find it just as aggravating as you do.”

She took her eyes off the road long enough to flash him a look that had a wry quirk turning his lips upward.

“We go where no other unit can. We try to get in and out without anyone knowing we’ve been there. Most of the time, things go according to plan. This time, it didn’t.”

“When Brett first decided to become a SEAL, I did hours of research. I know how you train and I know how you operate. But knowing that doesn’t help me a bit, now that he’s hurt.”

They drove in silence for several minutes. She tried to concentrate on the road and block out the rush of emotion that made her eyes sting and her throat to ache. She was being a bitch, but she couldn’t contain her anger and grief. And he happened to be a handy target.

By the time she wheeled the vehicle into the parking structure at the hospital, tension had tightened her muscles to the point her leg ached from the strain. She knew she’d have to do some stretching exercises later to relieve the cramps. She had been on it too much today.

Because her own wreaked such havoc, she thought of Hawk’s leg. “How’s the knee?”

“A little swollen but holding up. How about your leg?” he asked.

Obviously, he had noticed her grimace of pain. “It’s there—which beats the alternative.” With the help of the door, she swung out of the car and gained her feet. By the time she’d come around the vehicle to help him, he had climbed out of the car and balanced on one foot. She retrieved the crutches from the trunk.

“Thanks.” He hooked the crutches beneath his arms, and maneuvered around the car door and slammed it.

“How long did they say you’d be on crutches?”

He adjusted his speed to accommodate her slower pace.

“A couple of weeks. I didn’t tear my ACL or do any permanent damage to the joint, just strained it badly enough for it to puff up like a basketball. I won’t start PT for another week or so. I should be good to go in six or eight weeks max.”

She nodded. “A whirlpool or hot tub would do wonders.”

“So I’ve found. There’s one at the house we can share.”

Heat raced across her skin and settled in areas she tried hard to ignore. She pretended an interest in the flowering trees planted at equal intervals within the walk and hid the color in her cheeks.

The universal smell of antiseptic and pine scented cleaner permeated the air as they entered the hospital. She led the way into an elevator, and held the door for Hawk.

“Brett looks just as he always has,” she said as they exited the elevator, and started down the hall to the right. “He has an IV and a catheter, but other than that he isn’t on any kind of life support. If he doesn’t regain consciousness soon, they’ll have to put in a feeding tube.”

“What does the doc say is the reason he won’t wake up?”

“He’s had a severe trauma to his brain. A subdural hematoma. They had to drill a hole in his skull to relieve the pressure. His coma was induced by drugs at first, but now—” She shook her head.

“He could wake up tomorrow and be fine. Or he could wake up and have brain damage.”

She pushed open the wide wooden door. Silence rushed out to meet them. They stepped into the room. Each time, she saw her brother, so still upon the hospital bed, his head swathed in bandages, her heart ached as though it had been run over three or four times by an eighteen-wheeler.

A hard knot of emotion lodged in her throat. Had Hawk not been there, she might have indulged in a few tears to ease it. His hand slid down her back and came to rest against her waist. She pulled away. Her composure would desert her completely if she accepted the comfort he offered.

When she’d regained control of her emotions, she hazarded a glance at Hawk. His features were set in a grim forbidding expression, his lips compressed into a hard line. His pale eyes, darkened to steel gray, held a pain with which she was all too familiar.

*

Hawk dragged air into his lungs. Sucker punched. That’s what it felt like to see Brett like this.

The man lay still on the bed, his skin nearly as pale as the sheets. The slow even rise and fall of his chest was the only sign he was alive. Hawk struggled to draw some reassurance from the fact his buddy seemed to be breathing on his own without difficulty. Wires ran beneath the pale blue hospital gown that only partially covered his chest. Electrodes were attached to his chest and a machine monitored his heart rate and blood pressure, another, his oxygen level.

Hawk cleared his throat before he could speak. “Let’s go talk to him. Hey, Cutter, don’t you think you’ve goldbricked enough?” he asked loudly as he approached the bed. “It’s time to rise and shine, sailor.”

Zoe brushed a kiss across Brett’s forehead, and drew the sheet up over his bare chest.

It seemed surreal seeing the man so unresponsive when he had always been so active. Because he ran every day and lifted weights, as did most of the other team members, he was in prime condition. The slow rise and fall of his chest made it appear as though he’d just nodded off for a brief power nap, not a two weeklong excursion into a dark nether world.

Hawk lowered his tall frame into a chair next to the bed and propped his foot on the bottom railing of the bed. He kept up the one sided conversation with Brett, while Zoe exercised her brother’s arms and legs so the muscles wouldn’t atrophy.

Not being much of a talker, he found it difficult to keep the unreciprocated flow going. He talked about the team, about the barbeque, and about the remodeling project he worked on at his house.

“I could really use your help, Cutter. It’s hard as hell hanging sheetrock by myself.”

“Why do you call him that?” she asked.

“Most of the men have nicknames. Cutter got his during his first mission after graduating SEAL training.”

Zoe looked so young, with her hair pulled back and the sun kissed blush upon her cheeks and nose. Reluctant to tell her anything that might put her brother, or his profession, in an adverse light he wracked his brain for an innocuous comment to explain. She beat him to it.

“Brett was always toying with sharp instruments. Knives. Screwdrivers. Axes. I imagine that comes in handy when you’re in dangerous situations.”

“Yeah, it does.” Damn, she was tough. She faced off the hard things without flinching.

“Brett used to practice at targets in the back yard with a bow and arrow. He was on the archery team in high school. He won several competitions.”

“And what were you like in high school?”

“Very shy and self-conscious.”

“You outgrew it.”

She bent Brett’s knee, pushed his foot all the way up to his buttocks, then straightened the limb again. “I know my limitations and accept them.”

His gaze dropped to the pant leg that covered her injury and he frowned.

A cursory knock sounded on the door and it opened. A nurse entered the room. Her thick dark brown hair, though pinned up according to regulations, still managed to look attractive. The green scrubs she wore didn’t entirely hide the curves beneath.

Cutter was going to love waking up to her. She was just his type.

She nodded in acknowledgement of Hawk’s presence. As he started to shove himself to a standing position, with the use of the chair arms, she waved him back down. “At ease, sir.”

Her gaze swung to Zoe. “Hello, Zoe. Captain Connelly will be by in about half an hour.”

Zoe nodded. “How have Brett’s vitals been today, Angela?”

Angela checked the chart she carried. “Steady and strong.”

She came forward to unwind the hose of a blood pressure cuff and wrap it around Brett’s arm. She pumped the bulb and took the reading, then recorded it in the chart. She went through a routine of checking his pulse then looked over the reading on each machine, each time entering the data into the chart.

Zoe resumed the exercises.

“You might check into the hospital administration office. We subcontract some of our PT,” Angela said as she watched.

“Thanks for the tip, but I’m not going to be here long enough to settle into a job. As soon as Brett’s on his feet again, I’ll have to return home to Kentucky.”

Angela looked down at the chart for a moment. “It’s early days yet. He may wake up tomorrow.”

“I’m counting on it,” Zoe said.

The doctor showed up a few minutes later. Hawk rose to his feet, and with the help of his crutches, balanced on his good leg. Though she had demonstrated more than once she didn’t want his comfort or support, he stood beside Zoe while the doctor examined Brett.

He could sense her worry in the stiff way she held herself and in the way her eyes followed the doctor’s every move.

“He’s responsive to painful stimuli, his pupils are equally reactive, and his EEG shows normal brain activity.” Captain Connelly said as he turned to face them both. “He just hasn’t decided to join us, yet.”

“I’ve been doing some PT with him, hoping the exertion will stimulate him and he’ll wake up,” Zoe said.

“It certainly can’t hurt him. Talk to him as much as you can while you’re here.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that.” Zoe squared her shoulders. Her battle-ready look slipping into place. Her jaw was set and her eyes homed in on Connelly like lasers. “I want permission to spend as much time with Brett as possible, even in between visiting hours. I’ll read to him, talk to him, do PT, whatever it takes to get his attention.”

Dr. Connelly’s square jawed features softened in sympathy. “Miss Weaver—”

“Zoe,” she interrupted.

A brief smile curved his lips. “Zoe. I know you want what’s best for your brother.”

“What’s best for Brett is for him to wake up.”

“Yes, it is,” Dr. Connelly conceded. “But he’s also sustained a trauma to his brain. He needs time to heal. I’ve spoken to one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, and have faxed him copies of everything in your brother’s file. Let’s wait and see what he says before you launch your campaign, all right?”

“And if he gives the go ahead?” she pressed, the determination in her expression unwavering.

“Yes, I’ll give you a green light and you can camp out with your brother as much as you like—within reason.” He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It will ultimately be up to your brother, though. I know how frightening it is to see him lying there seemingly unresponsive. There is something going on in his brain. The readings of his electroencephalogram register brain activity. His brain pressure is normal now. His MRI shows no extensive brain damage. I don’t know why he won’t wake up.”

“So there is hope,” Hawk said.

Zoe frowned.

“Yes, there is. I haven’t given up on Ensign Weaver. You shouldn’t either,” Connelly said.

Hawk nodded, a deep sense of relief easing the taut feeling of guilt that knotted his insides. He had to hold on to the belief that Brett would wake up, just as Zoe did.

As he looked down at his friend, his thoughts turned to other questions too hard to speak aloud. What if he woke up crippled, brain damaged, unable to care for himself? What then would Brett or his family do?

His attention focused on Zoe’s face. The delicate curve of her cheek and jaw, the wing-like sweep of her brows, the straight narrow line of her nose, gave her features a fragile femininity that underlined her vulnerability, despite her expression of stubborn resolve. He suddenly realized that was her way of warding off the fear and uncertainty. Just as it was Brett’s.

With the men in his command, he could give them a slap on the back, a nod, a thumbs up, a hooyah. Hawk did the only thing he could do with Zoe. He laced his fingers through hers in a show of support and comfort and immediately a thrum of electricity passed between them.

Zoe’s attention shifted to their laced hands then refocused on the neurologist.

Doctor Connelly spoke as he crossed to the door. “I’ll be speaking with you again tomorrow. I hope to hear something from the specialist I’ve contacted by then.”

“We’ll both be here, Doc,” Hawk answered.

The door thumped shut quietly behind Connelly. The silence stretched taut as the strings on a parachute.

She stepped away, withdrawing her hand from his. She avoided his gaze as she moved back to Brett’s side. For the hundredth time, she adjusted the sheet over him.

“I’m just trying to be a friend, Zoe.”

“I didn’t think anything else, Lieutenant.”

“Hawk.”

Her gaze rose to his face. “Hawk.”

He grinned. “Now that we’ve settled that, when do you want to move in with me?”

Chapter Three

‡

“Hold on there little darlin’,” Ensign Dan Rivera said as he came out of the attic stairwell. He caught Zoe around the waist and swung her out of the way as his two companions muscled a chest of drawers through the door and down the hall to the bedroom.

“Bowie—unhand that woman and grab the nightstand,” ‘Doc,’ Ensign Zack O’Connor said as they disappeared into the bedroom with the chest. Neither he, nor Lieutenant Junior Grade Harold Carney, Flash, Adam’s Executive Officer, seemed to find the bulky chest too burdensome.

“What if I don’t want to unhand you, Zoe? How would you feel about that?” Bowie’s brown eyes held a warmth she hadn’t encouraged.

When he flashed his dimples at her, she thought he might just have some idea how potent his smile was, and how to use it to his advantage. What was wrong with her that her heart didn’t leap at all the male sex appeal he exuded? The electric thrill seemed to be reserved for Adam “Hawk” Yazzie. He could walk into the room and every nerve in her body came to life.

“The only man I’m interested in right now is the Sandman, Bowie. I intend to take a long, long nap, as soon as you get the bed up. I’m beat.” She knew she looked it, too. Since getting the go ahead from the neurologist, she’d spent every moment, from dawn to midnight, at the hospital.

Bowie’s masculine tones held a hint of west Texas. “I’ll ask again, when you’re not so wore out.” He stepped away then looked over his shoulder at her. “I like long, slow kisses, cuddling, and I’ve been told I have a light touch. You might want to keep that in mind, while you’re deciding whether or not to give me a chance.”

The heat of a blush flared in her face. She found it impossible to come up with any kind of answer.

Bowie’s smile widened. “We’ll get the bedroom squared away for you right away.” He went up the stairs to retrieve the nightstand.

She stood at the doorway of the bedroom, but didn’t go in. “There’s lasagna, salad, and garlic bread in the kitchen, when you want to take a break.”

Doc looked up, his eyes as green as his Irish ancestor’s homeland. His short auburn hair stood on end where he had raked his hands through it. “We’ll be there ASAP, as soon as we get this bed frame together, and the mattress and box springs from upstairs.”

“Lasagna is my favorite,” Flash commented as he tightened a bolt, while Doc held the metal frame in place against the footboard. “Is it a family recipe?” A slight Boston undertone flavored Flash’s voice with New England charm.

His quiet soft-spoken manner seemed more restful than the others and his blond, blue-eyed good looks were very appealing.

“My mother’s.”

“Do you cook?” he asked.

“Not a lick,” she fibbed, a smile tugging at her lips.

Flash glanced up. “That’s all right, I do.” He winked at her.

She smiled. “Do they give a class in flirting, along with weapon maintenance and hand to hand combat, when you train to become a SEAL?”

“Naw,” Flash shook his head. “We just pretty much know what we want, keep our eye on the prize, and don’t give up. It’s a characteristic of the breed.”

She’d lived with two people growing up who fit that bill. Her father and her brother. She figured she could handle that.

“I wonder how you two would react if you met up with a female with those same characteristics?”

The two men looked at one another. “Run,” they said together.

She laughed. It seemed like months since she had done so. It felt good.

“What’s going on?” Hawk asked from directly behind her.

She turned and looked over her shoulder at him. He held a wooden lamp he had been repairing, a slight frown on his face. He had discarded his crutches for just the brace and she hadn’t heard his approach.

“Nothing, we’re just talking.”

“Food’s getting cold,” he said as he slipped past her. His hand lightly brushed the small of her back, with just enough pressure that her nerve endings zinged, and her heart picked up its rhythm.

Bowie dodged around her with the nightstand. “Don’t have to tell me twice when chow’s on. Let Flash and Hawk take care of that, Doc. You and I can bring down the box springs and mattress.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Doc straightened and stepped out of the bed frame. The two went upstairs.

Zoe returned to the kitchen and helped herself to a small bowl of salad. She wandered out to the screened-in back porch and sat down in the old metal glider Hawk had renovated and placed against one wall. Green striped lounge pillows cushioned the seat. Propping her feet up on the brown wicker coffee table, she set the glider in motion. The sunset deepened to rose, maroon, and then purple painting the laminate floor with color. Through the screened windows, the sweet scent of honeysuckle wafted on the breeze. The cadence of the crickets thrummed in a synchronized ebb and flow, the sound draining the tension from her shoulders and neck.

The porch was fast becoming her favorite spot. She gravitated there to unwind when she arrived home from the hospital. Her bowl empty, she set it aside on the wicker end table beside the glider and eyed the sunken hot tub a few feet away. Maybe she could fill it after dinner when everyone left. With the aid of a few potted plants, and the canvas shades that could be lowered over the windows, she could find some privacy. Perhaps it would ease the pain in her calf from standing too long.

Imagining Hawk in the hot tub with any number of buxom, blonde beauties cost her more than a twinge or two of jealousy. A jealousy she tried to deny. Along with the feelings that inspired it. Every time she experienced the rush of excitement when he entered the room, or the hypersensitive tingle of heat when he touched her, a lingering ache centered just beneath her breastbone.

Better the ache of regret than the pain of caring for him more deeply and something happening to him. The sound of her mother’s soft sobs coming from her bedroom late at night when she’d thought they were all asleep echoed through her head and gave her heart a sharp pinch.

Waiting for letters, emails, telegrams, had only played a small part of their life in the military. Praying they never got a visit from an official two-man detail to notify them that their loved one was dead had played a bigger one. And damn, if it didn’t overshadow the rest. It made remembering any of the good times harder.

Drawing her bare feet up on the seat, she hugged her knees and rested her head atop them. She rubbed the sharp pain that lanced from her knee to her ankle as the damaged muscle stretched. She tried to forget about her leg, tried to function as normally as possible. There were days she succeeded, when the pain remained slight. When her calf burned and throbbed from standing or walking too much, she resented pandering to it but was forced to wear the brace she hated.

“Zoe,” Clara Weaver spoke from the open doorway.

She straightened and turned her head to look up at her. The kitchen light lanced across her mother’s face, setting alight the coppery tones in her hair. Some of the strain, apparent from the week before, had drained from Clara’s features, easing the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. She had housework and shopping to attend to, which offered her a distraction and a sense of normalcy.

Her own discomfort at being so close to Hawk would be worth it, if living here gave her mother some respite from her worry over Brett.

“The men are finished. Come eat.”

She lowered her feet to the floor and rocked forward to rise then stood stationary for a moment to make sure of her balance.

“You brought your brace, didn’t you?” Clara asked.

“I don’t need it.”

Clara brushed a few strands of hair from Zoe’s forehead, the gesture familiar as the look of concern on her face. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“I just haven’t done my exercises in a couple of days. I’ll do them tonight after dinner.”

Clara nodded and stepped back to allow her to enter the kitchen.

Hawk and Doc looked up from serving themselves from a large pan of lasagna on the stove. She fell in behind them.

He took her empty plate and traded it for the one he had just filled.

“Cut me a smaller piece, Hawk.”

His gray gaze fixed on her a moment before he scooped the lasagna onto her plate and traded with her. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to eat a little more,” he said, his deep voice only a rumble. She wondered what it would be like to hear that tone whispered in her ear as his long, lean body covered hers. Her mouth went dry and she bit her lip.

She had to quit doing this to herself. Fantasies aside, she would never be brave enough to leave herself open to that kind of rejection again. Though he was doing all he could to make up for the situation, he had still uttered the words that guaranteed she would never let him close, “It’s my fault Brett was hurt.”

Why did she have to keep reminding herself of that? Her loyalty belonged to her brother, not to a man she barely knew.

Bowie pulled out her chair for her as they joined the rest at the dining room table. Doc poured her a glass of ice tea when he noticed she had forgotten a drink. Was the men’s solicitous behavior motivated by friendliness? Or was it pity? She flinched from the idea.

She hadn’t encouraged any of their advances, and if she did? The poor man would eventually run once he saw her scars anyway. It was good she needed all her energy for Brett. She’d return home, once her brother was back on his feet, in exactly the same condition she’d arrived in California. With her heart in one piece.

“After dinner, want to go out for ice cream?” Flash whispered from beside her.

“No fair making time with my woman, Flash,” Doc said.

“All things are fair in love and war, Doc.”

She shook her head at their good-natured competitiveness.

Her mother winked at her. “Unless you’re ready to walk down the aisle tomorrow, my daughter won’t be making time with anyone,” she said in her best schoolteacher voice.

The men looked at one another. Flash laid an arm along the top of Zoe’s chair. “Where should we have the rehearsal dinner, sweetheart?”

She laid a hand on flash’s knee and leaned close. “There’s something I have to tell you, Harold.”

“What’s that honey?” He covered her hand and focused on her with the eagerness of a bird dog spotting a pheasant.

“I always keep my eye on the prize, and I never give up.”

His look of surprise had Doc bursting into laughter.

“You don’t really want to see a grown man run in fear, do you?” Flash asked.

She shook her head, a smile playing about her lips. Her eyes rose to Hawk’s face to find a frown just short of a scowl drawing his dark brows together. He had been uncharacteristically quiet for most of the day. With all the upheaval of giving up his office to offer her a room, was he regretting asking them to move in? If so, they could be out of there in next to no time.

Her reasons for being so eager to find an excuse to move out sobered her. She was running scared, the intensity of her feelings, when he was around, beyond her experience.

Flash touched her arm, drawing her attention back to his face. He spoke softly, for her ears only. “That new husky sound you have when you speak is sexy as hell. And as much as I’d like for you to whisper in my ear, I feel like I need to be teaching you some of the hand signals we use so you can rest your voice.” His blue eyes held a serious light. “You need to pace yourself, Zoe, and let us take up some of the slack. Okay?”

Too touched by his concern to speak, she nodded. “I’ll try.”

He flashed a smile and turned to answer something Hawk asked from the other end of the table.

The men seemed determined to keep the dinner conversation light and as entertaining as possible. Though she enjoyed their company, exhaustion had her fighting off the repetitive urge to yawn by the time the meal came to an end. Flash’s hand rested beneath her elbow as she struggled to her feet. She murmured her thanks as she found her balance.

She carried her plate into the kitchen and started to load the dishwasher.

“You and Clara prepared dinner. We’ll clean up,” Hawk said as he joined her.

“It’s all right. It’ll only take a minute to load the dishwasher and wash up.”

He caught her wrist as she reached for another plate to rinse. “You’re all in, Zoe. Go rest. And as sexy as a hoarse female voice sounds, you need to rest your voice as well.”

Sexy? She placed her hand against her throat. “I’m fine.” Her gaze rose to his face. Where Flash’s earlier concern had touched her, the concern she read in Hawk’s expression made her defensive. She didn’t stop to think why. “You don’t have to make concessions for me because of my leg. I can still pull my weight around here.”

His eyes narrowed and his cheekbones flushed with color. As Doc and Bowie entered the kitchen carrying plates and glasses, he pulled her out onto the porch and closed the door.

“It has nothing to do with your leg, Zoe. You’re up at dawn and don’t go to bed until one or two every night. You don’t have an endless supply of energy. No one does. If you’re going to be in this thing for the long haul, you’re going to have to pace yourself.”

She recognized the truth in what he said, but resented he was the one to say it. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a while now.”

“Then you know what you need to do, so do it.”

She stiffened at his tone. “Look, I’m not one of the men you can call onto the carpet and dress down.”

His gray gaze raked down her slender form. “That’s something I’m not likely to forget.”

Her heartbeat accelerated. She experienced the stomach quivering sensation of riding a roller coaster car to the top of a tall-tall peak.

“Brett would be telling you to take care of yourself, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes,” she agreed. The word came out soft and breathy around the airless feeling beneath her ribs.

“If he were here, he’d be warning you about his fellow teammates. Flirting is fine, but should you start to date one of them, it’s going to cause some hard feelings between them.”

“They’re only kidding around, Hawk. None of them are really interested in me. They’re just competing for attention. They’d be behaving like that with any single female of datable age within a five mile radius.”

“I disagree. I’m not going to have the three of them going at each other’s throats over a woman.”

The heart dropping sensation felt worse than any roller coaster plunge down a steep track. Pain whipped through her. That he had viewed her banter with Flash as something more than just light-hearted teasing was unimaginable.

“Well—I’ve never been viewed as a femme fatale before, or a manipulative tease.” Her throat tightened with tears. “You’re right about one thing though. I’ve had enough for one day. I’m going to bed.” She shoved past him.

“Zoe—wait a minute—”

She jerked her arm from his grasp, and pushed open the kitchen door.

Flash, Doc, and Bowie, working to set the place to rights, gave the large kitchen the feeling of being crowded.

She pulled up short, and tried to gather her composure. The screen door closed as Hawk entered the room behind her.

“Guys, I really appreciate all your help getting the bed set up and everything.”

“No problem, Zoe,” Bowie spoke for the group.

“I hope you’ll understand if I excuse myself and go on to bed.”

“No problem,” Doc said. His green gaze traveled from her to Hawk, then back again, speculation in his expression.

Suddenly, the full weight of exhaustion pressed down upon her shoulders and she drew a tremulous breath.

“If you or your mom need anything, Zo, don’t hesitate to call,” Flash said, his features set in a frown.

She nodded and offered them all a hasty thanks, and a goodnight. As she closed the bedroom door behind her, she wished she were anywhere on earth, but in Hawk Yazzie’s house.

Chapter Four

‡

“Son of a—” Hawk swore the words several times beneath his breath as he removed the cover from the hot tub one handed and braced his weight on a crutch with the other.

“Need some help?” Clara asked from the kitchen doorway.

He turned to offer her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I was just venting a little frustration.”

“I’ve heard the tone and the words before, Hawk,” she said. A smile laced with understanding curved her lips. She stepped over the threshold and helped him slide the lightweight vinyl cover behind the lounge.

“I keep the tub covered when it’s not in use in case one of the team comes over with the kids.”

“Good idea. Children are drawn to water like ducks to a pond. They’d be in it fully clothed in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah.” He flipped the switches engaging the heater and the pump. “It only takes a little while to heat.” He lowered himself to the lounge and set aside the crutch. “Think Zoe would want to soak for a few minutes, if she’s still awake?”

She laughed and shook her head at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t think how that would sound. I just noticed she was in pain last night when she went to her room. I thought it might ease off if she relaxed in the tub for a little while.”

Clara remained silent for a moment. She took a seat beside him. “I think she’ll turn the use of the hot tub down, though she probably needs to take advantage of it,” she said, her words measured. “Zoe is self-conscious of her leg. When she was young she just went right on as though nothing were wrong with it, but her first year in college, something happened. She won’t willingly let you or anyone else see it.”

He frowned. He hadn’t seen this coming. Uneasiness took root in the pit of his stomach.

Clara ran a restless hand over the auburn curls that framed a face only a little fuller than her daughter’s. “I’m only telling you this so you won’t take her refusals personally.”

He forced a nonchalant shrug. “We’ll just have to arrange a daily time so she can have some privacy then.”

She smiled. “You know, even when your children are adults, a parent can’t really control the desire to shield them. Zoe likes to think she’s tough.”

“She is in some ways,” he said.

“But not about this.” Her blue eyes, so similar to her daughters, held a sadness that went soul deep.

He nodded. “Understood.”

“You and your men were wonderful today,” she said, changing the subject.

He smiled. “Awe shucks, ma’am—it weren’t nothin’.”

“I really appreciate everything you’re doing for us.”

He shrugged and focused on her face. “It’s a big house. Big enough for the three of us, and then some.”

“If we start encroaching on your space more than we should, don’t hesitate to speak up about it.” She got to her feet.

“It’s not going to happen.”

She shook her head at him. “You’re used to baching it, Hawk. It may grow tedious having two women under foot.”

“It’ll be okay, Clara. If I start to feel crowded, I can always bug out for a few days.”

“This is your home. If you need some space, we can do the bugging out.” She turned as she reached the kitchen door. “If you have difficulty getting in or out of the tub, don’t hesitate to yell.”

He smiled at the comical image that came to mind of the two slightly built women trying to get his two hundred and ten pound frame out of the water. “I think I can handle it, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

His smile listed as Clara left. Zoe would probably leave him afloat and tell him to soak his head, as well as his knee.

His jaw tensed. It wasn’t just his team’s welfare he had in mind. He didn’t want to see her hurt. For all their joking about marriage and rehearsal dinners, he couldn’t picture any of his men being ready to take the plunge.

Zoe wasn’t the kind of woman a man looked to for no-strings sex. Her shy flirtatiousness fired his protective instincts, but it also fired everything south of his belt as well. Knowing it probably did the same to his men drove him crazy, and damned if he knew what to do about it.

And what if one of them were responsible for Cutter’s injuries?

The only one he could be sure of was himself. He had to protect her.

*

Zoe heard her mother’s door close down the hall and struggled to rise from the bed. She couldn’t sleep until things were settled between Hawk and her. She wouldn’t be able to stay under his roof, if they didn’t try to reach some kind of understanding.

Her leg ached as she made her way back down the hall to the kitchen. The exterior door stood open to the porch and she stopped at the threshold and scanned the room.

His arms stretched along the edge of the hot tub and his head was tilted back against a cushion. Ropy, well-defined muscles stood out in his neck, shoulders, upper arms, and chest. Though she knew every muscle, had anyone asked her to recite the names at this moment, she wouldn’t have been able to identify a single one. Black hair dusted his chest just above the waterline. The size and strength of him awed her. The beauty of him stole her breath and made it hard for her to swallow. She forced air into her lungs and tried to block off the physical response that made it difficult for her to focus.

She took two decisive steps into the room. “I didn’t want to go to bed without settling things between us.”

His lids rose, his pale gray gaze fastening on her face for a moment before they slid downward over the faded sweat pants and cropped T-shirt she wore. He homed in on the two-inch band of bare skin just above her waistband, and a tempting tingle arrowed downward. Her knees grew weak. How could he make her hot and wet with just a look?

“I wondered when you’d be back to bust my chops.” He sat up from his reclining position. “I was out of line earlier.”

Surprise kept her silent for a moment. “I’m not here looking for a boyfriend. I’m here for Brett.”

“I know that.”

“I’m not a flirt or a tease either.”

“If what I said led you to believe I thought that, Zoe, you’re mistaken. I’m sorry.”

He hooked his hands upon the rim of the tub and hiked himself up on the wide tile edge around it.

After the first glimpse of a rock hard six-pack bisected by a thin line of hair that disappeared beneath a brief black swimsuit, she averted her gaze. She wandered to the screen door to focus her attention outside, until she could get her breathing under control.

“My concern wasn’t just about the cohesive condition of my team, Zoe. I was concerned about you, too.”

Sure. The only blip she made on his radar screen was as a possible problem for him or his team.

“The men have been pressuring you.”

“They’d be that way with any woman who came within their scope. It’s the male way of being friendly. Because I’m Brett’s sister, they’ll tease and flirt, but they’re not really serious about pursuing me.” She forced herself to face him, just to prove to herself she could do it and still breathe.

Hawk probed her expression. “I heard Bowie ask you out, and it didn’t sound like he was just interested in flirting.”

Her cheeks grew hot. “I’m sure he’s used that same line, and his killer dimples, with great success on any number of women. I didn’t take him seriously.”

His frown set his features in lines of masculine aggression. “Why not?”

She’d learned the hard way that men were only interested in girls who could keep up with them. To him and his men, a five-mile run was probably a cakewalk. There were days, walking across the room was like running a marathon for her.

“I’m not interested in a temporary relationship.”

“Who’s to say it would be?”

If she’d harbored any hopes he was the least bit interested in her, he’d just doused them. That was a good thing. He was doing her a favor. Being involved with a military man wasn’t what she needed anyway. Seeing Brett in his condition offered her enough heartache already.

She leaned back against the door facing and studied his expression. “Are you encouraging me to go out with Bowie?”

“No.” A frown drew his brows into a V above the bridge of his nose setting his features into intimidating lines. She wondered what he would be like truly angry. Probably scary as hell.

“I’m glad you’re not trying to tell me what to do, because we both know I’ll do as I please.”

A warning glint lit his pale gray gaze as their eyes met. Just when she began to grow concerned they were about to have words again, a smile broke across his features and he laughed.

“How’s the knee?” she asked, changing the subject. “You’ve been on it a lot today.”

“It’s feeling better after a few minutes in the hot tub. Why don’t you join me?”

Even knowing he meant nothing by the invitation, her pulse hammered at her throat and wrists. A fantasy of all that smooth skin and hard muscle, wet and warm beneath her hands, flashed through her mind. “I haven’t got a bathing suit.” She hoped her voice sounded normal.

“Then come in, in what you have on now,” he suggested. “You could cut your sweats off into shorts so the water can circulate around your legs.”

Though tempted, too many painful past experiences triggered a feeling of panic that made it hard for her to swallow.

She forced a smile to her lips. “And ruin the fashion statement I’m trying to make,” she teased.

“We’ll pick a bathing suit up tomorrow at the PX then.”

“I have other things to spend my money on right now, Hawk.”

“I’ll spring for it. You can’t come to California and not have a bathing suit. This is the surf, sand, and sun state.”

She couldn’t meet the challenge she read in his gaze; she’d learned that the hard way. “I appreciate the offer, Hawk, but I probably won’t have any time to enjoy the surf and sun and I’m certainly not too fond of sand.”

“It isn’t one of my favorite things, either, since BUD/S training.” He pushed off the rim of the hot tub back into the water. “You could lie down on the lounge and talk to me while I soak.”

She hesitated, torn between the inexplicable attraction he held for her, and her need to keep him at a distance. The more time she spent with him, the more difficult it would be to ignore her response to him. And what if he discovered how she felt? Her stomach rolled and she placed a hand against it.

She turned to find him watching her and her legs grew weak.

“It could be dangerous for you to stay in the hot tub alone,” she said as she stretched out on the lounge and drew a pillow beneath her head. “There have been instances of people being overcome by the heat of the water and drowning.”

“That would certainly be an ironic end to my SEAL career. You’d better stick around.”

His droll tone made her laugh. She wiggled and turned on her side. She intercepted a smile that softened his features and brought an answering one to her lips.

As hard as he tried not to look, Hawk’s attention rested on that thin strip of pale skin visible beneath the bottom of her cropped t-shirt. He ached to reach out and follow the hollow dip of her belly to her navel with his fingers, then his lips. The drawstring dangling just below her belly button seemed to be giving directions. His gaze followed the round curve of one breast clearly defined beneath her t-shirt as she tucked her hands beneath her cheek.

He found the combination of sensual young woman and innocence tempting as hell. He drew a deep breath and, closing his eyes, tilted his head back against the cushion again. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t in the water with him. He’d grown hard as a torpedo and the possibilities were just too explosive.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

She’d seemed so determined to keep him at arm’s length, he raised a brow in surprise.

“I was born here in San Diego. My father worked construction and my mom was a legal secretary. My dad died in a fall on a building site when I was young. My mom raised me on her own. She died five years ago. Breast cancer.” He controlled his expression with an effort though the ache of loss and the guilt was still there. Why had she not told him how ill she was? Why had she waited for him to come home? She’d waited too long and she’d died alone.

“I’m sorry.”

The soft, husky sincerity he heard in her tone tugged his thoughts back. He turned his head to look at her. “I am, too.”

“What was she like?”

Despite the anger a smile tugged at his lips. “A hard ass, but loving with it. I got mixed up with the wrong crowd as a teenager. Nearly got into a gang. She threatened to quit her job and hound my every step until I straightened up my act.”

“It must have worked.”

“Yeah, it did. She talked me into taking ROTC. Said if I was going to join a gang it might as well be one that would teach me the right kind of discipline. I stayed with it and earned an academic scholarship for college.”

“Do you have any other family?”

“Some distant cousins on my father’s side who live in New Mexico. My mother’s father is still alive. He lives in LA.”

“Brett said your father was Navaho.”

“Yeah, half, which makes me a quarter.”

“Because of your skin and hair color, I imagine it’s easier to get around undetected in foreign ports.”

“Sometimes.” The defensive feelings caught him by surprise. “That isn’t why you feel so uneasy with me, is it?”

Her face went blank with shock, then she sat up. “No! Why would you even think that? I mean, that I feel uneasy with you.”

“You’re on edge with me.”

For a moment she stared at him then looked away. “It isn’t you. I mean—” She rocked forward to rise to her feet. It took a moment for her to establish her balance, and for the first time, he realized what a struggle her injury proved for her.

He waded from the hot tub by way of the steps and grasped a towel from the end table. Turning aside to cover the lingering effects of his arousal, he wrapped it around his waist.

He hadn’t meant to bring things to a head between them—those puns were killing him but he just couldn’t leave it alone. He had to know.

Her features tense, she faced him. “I’m not prejudiced against you because of your Indian heritage, Hawk.”

“Is it because I’m responsible for what happened to Brett?”

“Are you?”

“I didn’t hit him in the head. No. But it was my mission, this is my team. Every man in it is my responsibility.”

Some of the tension left her features. “As much as I’d like a target to vent my frustration and anger at, I can’t really hold you responsible for Brett’s condition.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t want to be drawn back into the life again.”

“Military life?”

“Yes.” Zoe folded her arms against her midriff as though cold. “You don’t have to enlist to be a part of it. I used to love it, the travel, new places, new people, the troops in uniform, their shoes spit shined, their brass polished until it gleamed. The singsong sound of a drill instructor calling out orders on the parade ground. Seeing them march in formation across the base. I loved it all. Then Desert Storm happened—”

“And your father was killed.” He sucked in his breath as though he’d been hit in the solar plexus. Just when he thought he had things figured out something else cropped up.

She nodded, her body taut, her features carefully blank. “Brett being hurt was like—” Her throat worked as she swallowed and she shook her head. “I met you and your men. I’ve broken bread with you, laughed with you, been embraced by your families. I’m just having some trouble dealing with all these emotions, all these memories—”

He rested a hand upon her shoulder as she edged toward the door. The tension of her muscles as she struggled to retain her composure thrummed beneath his touch.

“You have to believe that we’re better trained, better prepared, than they are, Zoe. We’re going to be all right.”

“I hope so, I really do.”

She turned to face him and raised a hand to cup his cheek, her thumb moving along his cheekbone in a caress that caught him by surprise. His heart rate shot up as he met the clarity of her gaze.

“I didn’t mean anything derogatory about your heritage. I’m sorry if it came out wrong.”

He caught her hand when she started to withdraw. “It’s all right, Zoe.” He braced an arm against the door facing above her and shifted closer. The desire to feel her body against his made his breathing unsteady. He caught a whiff of her vanilla shampoo and a hint of some other floral scent on her skin.

She leaned back against the door facing, aligning her body to his stance. With a foot of space between them, they seemed to generate enough heat to singe the hair off his chest. Her fingers curled around his thumb as it pressed into her palm bringing to mind her fingers closing around other parts of his anatomy.

“I just meant that you should use whatever you had to stay safe.” Her voice softened, her Kentucky accent, growing thick as honey.

“Yeah, I got that,” He managed, though he felt starved for breath, as though he’d just finished a ten K run on a sandy beach.

She bit her bottom lip, leaving a glossy sheen of moisture behind. He bit back a groan. Blood shot to his groin. Jesus—Beads of moisture tracked an itchy path down his spine. It hurt to drag his gaze from her mouth.

Her mother was only a few yards down the hall. She trusted him. Zoe trusted him. It would be a breach of both their trusts for him to take advantage. He couldn’t have an affair with his best friend’s sister. He couldn’t offer her any emotional security. He wasn’t the permanent kind.

All those rationalizations didn’t ease the tight heavy feeling of his arousal, or the ache of need that clenched inside him. He forced himself to relinquish Zoe’s hand and take a step back. “It’s getting late and you should be in bed.” His voice sounded husky, almost a growl.

For a moment she remained still. Slowly, she straightened away from the door facing, and he curved a steadying hand around her upper arm. Her head down, she brushed passed him, her voice almost a whisper as she said, “Good night, Hawk.”

He listened to her progress through the house until a door closed. Hawk drew a deep breath to ease his pounding heart and realized he was trembling.

Zoe leaned back against the bedroom door. Her heart beat so she could barely breathe, her legs felt weak, and her skin tight and hypersensitive. She caught back a groan. Dear God. All this and all he had done was look at her and hold her hand. If he ever kissed her, touched her, she’d probably burst into flames. She’d thought for a moment that he would kiss her, and she had been half wild for him to do so. Had he been able to read her desire in her face? God, she hoped not.

Forcing her legs to move, she limped to the bed and lay down. Feeling as though she might fly apart, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself and curled into a ball. Frustrated desire writhed and twisted inside her. Several minutes passed before her pulse settled to a steadier rhythm. As the adrenaline leached from her system, a wave of melancholy brought tears to her eyes.

She should have never stayed to talk to him, should have never allowed him to pressure her into sharing her feelings about the Corps and all the memories being here had generated. It had left her too vulnerable to other emotions. She had never experienced anything like this driving desire to open herself physically and emotionally to another human being. It was wonderful and powerful and terrifying.

The only other time she had been tempted to lower the barriers had been disastrous for her. Tyler had shaken her confidence in herself. It had taken months to deal with the feelings of inadequacy and pain the experience had generated. She’d doubted, for a long time, whether any man could look past her scars and see her as a desirable woman.

With Hawk, she wanted to be desirable, but knew she wasn’t. If by some miracle she inspired a response in him, she’d have to act on it. God, how terrifying.

Her feelings for Tyler had been lukewarm in comparison to her response to Hawk. Because of that, he wouldn’t just have the ability to hurt her, he could annihilate her.

A sound half despair, half longing bubbled up from deep inside her. She dragged a pillow from the other side of the bed and buried her face in it.

If she trusted him, and he reciprocated, and was shipped out, what then? The hollow desolate feeling the idea generated didn’t bear thinking about. She didn’t want a boyfriend in the military. She couldn’t get involved with Hawk, she just couldn’t.

Chapter Five

‡

Hawk took a quick look in the mirror. He hadn’t been in uniform since returning to the states. His commanding officer had interviewed him in the hospital in Iraq and a couple of officers from headquarters had visited him in the hospital stateside, and now they were probing again into the mission.

What the hell had happened to Brett? Who had tried to cave his skull in? Not a tango. They’d have raised an alarm and been swarming all over the building searching for the rest of them. That left someone on the team.

A hollow ache hit his stomach more painful than a bullet wound.

Flash had been outside the building the whole time monitoring the tangos on the roof. His periodic clicks over the radio had kept them posted on their movements.

But he could have slipped in just as they had.

Derrick had raised the alarm that Cutter hadn’t come out. Doc had clicked his mic just before.

Bowie had set his package and taken cover outside the building before that, just as he had.

Any one of the others could have set his explosives package and been out of the building in time. They were all fast enough.

But how long had Cutter been unconscious?

Greenback had been two blocks down keeping an eye on their rear security. He’d had his hands full taking out two tangos blocking their route.

Hawk raked both hands through his hair and pushed the heels of his hands against his temples. He’d been over and over it a million times.

How could one of his men turn on his own teammate?

Fuck!

Why had this happened? There had to be a reason behind it.

That was the key.

But how the hell was he supposed to find out if he couldn’t talk to his men. They couldn’t talk to each other about the mission.

But what had triggered Brett’s attack might have happened before the mission. And that was fair game.

Hawk grabbed his bonnet from the dresser and shoved it under his arm.

Zoe’s and Clara’s voices came from the kitchen as he limped down the hall. As he entered the room, the two grew silent. Zoe gazed at him for a long moment her expression guarded.

“You look very handsome in your uniform, Hawk,” Clara said with a smile.

Hawk returned the gesture. “Thanks. I have a meeting at O-eight-thirty at HQ. I thought you could drop me off and I’d catch a ride over to the hospital afterward.”

Zoe rose to her feet. “Would you like some coffee before we go?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Clara rose. “We’re ready. I’ll get my purse.” Her sandals clicked against the hard wood floors as she walked down the hall.

Zoe turned to put the milk away, cleared the cups from the table, and loaded the dishwasher. Her usual quick movements appeared jerky.

Hawk sidled up close behind her and rested a hand against the small of her back. “What is it, Zoe?”

“Is it about Brett?”

How had she known? Had she read his body language, his expression? “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Don’t you think we’re entitled to know what happened?”

Hawk remained silent for a moment. “I was there and I’m not sure what happened, Zoe. We may never know.”

Her jaw grew taut. “I won’t accept that.” She raised her gaze to his and was as close to tears as he’d ever seen her.

Every instinct screamed for him to hold her and offer her comfort.

As though she read his intentions she shook her head and slipped away from him to pick up the purse hanging on one of the chairs.

*

Zoe climbed behind the wheel and fastened her seatbelt. Had her mother been more at ease with the busy traffic in route to the base, she’d have asked her to drive to make it easier to avoid Hawk’s gaze.

Though he tried to hide it, tension had settled in his shoulders and the hands he rested on his thighs.

They stopped at the gate and waited while the MP’s checked their passes then signaled them through. Following Hawk’s directions, she pulled into a parking slot in front of a single story brick building.

“If you need a ride, just call mom’s cell and I’ll come pick you up,” Zoe said as he unbuckled his seat belt.

He nodded. “I think I’ll be able to catch a ride, but I’ll keep it in mind just in case.” He rested a hand on her arm, and for a moment his gaze rested on her face before he got out of the car. He retrieved a gym bag from the back seat, and closing the door, walked away down the path.

Clara transferred to the seat Hawk vacated. For a moment, both their attention rested on his back as he walked up the crisply edged sidewalk to the door of the building. “There’s something about a man in uniform,” Clara said on a sigh, her gaze followed Hawk, but something in her expression focused inward.

Zoe fought against the pain to draw a full breath, as memories of her own rose up to haunt her.

*

“That has to be the ugliest apartment complex in San Diego,” Clara said.

Zoe turned the key in the ignition killing the engine and leaned forward to look up at the blocky building with its regimented lines. “Brett’s only here to sleep and eat. All he needs is a place to hang his hat.”

“I suppose so. Once he finds the right woman, he’ll have to move,” Clara said, a note of forced determination in her voice.

Would that happen for her brother in his current occupation? Would it happen—? Zoe flinched from the thought, shoved her sunglasses onto her face, and grabbing her purse, exited the car.

She popped the trunk and looked down at the olive drab sea-bag taking up nearly the whole compartment.

“I think we need a dolly,” Clara said. “Stay here and I’ll go in and ask management if they have one.”

Zoe lowered the trunk lid, limped around to the passenger side of the car and leaned against the quarter panel to rest her leg.

She had to deal with these feelings about seeing Hawk back in uniform. He wore it so naturally. It suited his physique. Oh hell! Who was she kidding? It wasn’t the uniform that bothered her. It was caring for the man wearing it.

Seeking a distraction from her thoughts, she turned to look down the street. Across the street two cars down a man stared at her from his vehicle. She took in blond hair and a strong jaw, though dark sunglasses obscured the rest of his face. His concentrated intensity, the stillness of his posture as he studied her punched her heart into an anxious race. A car whipped past between them. She took the opportunity to turn her back to him.

“Hello pretty lady.”

Zoe started at the familiar voice, then smiled, relief easing the tension from her body. “Where on earth did you get that shirt?”

Flash laughed, his blue eyes alight with humor. “Nice, huh?” He twisted around to show off the bizarre print. His back and torso appeared to have been attacked by a paintball gun, a flowerbed, or both. “I got it in Hawaii. It’s my lucky shirt.”

Zoe looked over the top of her sunglasses at him. “Does it work?”

“I was hoping it would,” he said, his grin oozing charm.

“Why Harold, I thought we already had an understanding.”

He chuckled. “The other guys will be jealous.” He leaned against the car beside her and folded his arms.

Why wasn’t she more drawn to this man? He exuded charisma, was funny and sweet. But just didn’t do it for her like—

“Are you just hanging out here or are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

“Mom went in to see if the manager had a dolly.”

“What for?”

Zoe glanced across the street in search of the car and man. Both were gone. She shrugged off the residue of apprehension.

“We were going to unpack Brett’s duffle, but it’s too heavy for either of us to lift.”

He straightened away from the car. “I can take care of that for you.”

She smiled. “Do you live here?”

“No, I just recognized Hawk’s vehicle and saw you standing here. I stopped to say hey and see how things were going.”

She ignored the ‘how things were going’ part to avoid disrupting the carefree tone of the moment. “So, you’re not busy right now?”

He looked at his watch. “I got a few minutes before I have to be somewhere. I can do this for you.”

“Thank you, Flash.”

“I like it better when you call me Harold,” he said as he moved around the back of the vehicle and flipped open the trunk. He managed to wiggle the canvas bag free from the tight space and, grasping the handle on the side, swung it up onto his shoulder.

Zoe rushed to slam the trunk closed and proceeded him to the apartment complex door. A man with dark hair exited the building just as they reached the entrance. He held it open for them with a nod.

“May I borrow your cell phone? Mom won’t know where I am and might worry if she shows back up at the car and I’m not there.”

“It’s hooked to my belt,” he said, raising an elbow to give her access to his waist.

Zoe dialed her mother’s number and arranged to meet her at the apartment with the key. “You could put that down until we get upstairs,” Zoe said when he continued to balance the bag even after they entered the elevator.

“I’d just have to pick it up again. And besides it gives me the opportunity to impress you.”

Eyeing the duffle that had to weigh more than fifty pounds, and how the taut muscles stood out in his arms, Zoe smiled. “Consider me impressed, Harold.”

He shot her a cocky grin. “Have you ever been to Brett’s apartment?” he asked.

“No, he’d just moved in when he deployed.”

“Well, despite how the place looks from the outside, the apartments are okay. I think he got a break on the rent because the units were slow to fill.”

“It’s really not fair for any of you to have to pay rent when you aren’t here,” Zoe said.

“Well, it never hurts knowing you have a home to return to. And renting a room by the week can really suck.”

“Are you saying that from experience?”

“When I first came out to California, I had to stay in a dump across town. There’s something to be said for having your own bed and your own stuff, not to mention privacy.”

Zoe paused a moment in thought. “You don’t have any family out here either?”

“No. I don’t have any family. Just the guys.”

Zoe pressed a hand to her stomach as a dropping sensation struck it that had nothing to do with the elevator. So he was alone in the world like Hawk.

The elevator door opened and they stepped out into a long hallway. Clara stood just a few doors down.

“I’m sorry, Harold.”

For the first time his easygoing expression grew serious. “Yeah, so am I.”

“It’s good to see you, Flash,” Clara said as they reached her. “Thank you so much for helping us.”

“I’m glad to do it, Clara.” Flash squeezed through the doorway with only inches to spare. He continued through a Spartan living room, with the bare necessities of a couch, two chairs, a couple of end tables and lamps, down a hallway.

Zoe followed behind, taking in the bare walls with boxes still packed and shoved against them.

“We’ll have to unpack for him and set things to rights,” Clara said from behind her.

Her mother’s comment brought the ache of tears to Zoe’s throat. “Not today, Mom. I want to get to the hospital as soon as we unpack his things.”

“All right, hon.”

Flash lowered the sea-bag to the floor on its end in front of the bed.

A bed hastily made. As though Brett were returning in just a few minutes instead of the nine months he’d been deployed. Zoe’s eyes burned with tears.

The room smelled musty from remaining sealed.

“I’ll go open the sliding glass doors in the living room,” Clara said, her voice uneven. She pressed a hand to her trembling lips as she hastened from the room.

“I can deal with this if you need to go see about her,” Flash said, motioning toward the duffle.

Zoe shook her head. “If I do, we’ll both go on a crying jag that will be counterproductive. We just need to keep moving forward.”

Flash nodded. “All his uniforms and stuff should be clean. We kind of pulled together to get his gear squared away.” He unfastened the heavy snap hook at the top of the bag. “I can take the uniforms to the base cleaners to be pressed if you like.”

His kindness undermined her control, and dropping her purse onto the dresser, Zoe turned her attention to straightening the bed until she could regain her composure. “I’ll have plenty of time to do that later. He won’t need them right away. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I’m sorry, Zoe. I didn’t mean to—”

She straightened. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Harold. It’s just an emotional time for us right now.”

“Yeah, I see that. If there’s nothing else I can do to help, I’ll take off.” He edged toward the door.

“Come by the house tomorrow night. We’ll be grilling out. I think some of the others will be there.” She hazarded a glance at him and read his discomfort in the stiffness of his shoulders and the taut set of his jaw.

“Sure, will do. If you need anything just call my cell. The number will be on your mother’s phone.”

“I promise we’ll be better company then,” Zoe said and forced a smile.

“No problem, Zoe. I’ll see you then.”

She drew a deep breath as the sound of his steps retreated down the hall. He exchanged a quick goodbye with her mother. A door closed.

Zoe tugged open the top of the sea bag and drew out the first layer of clothing. Desert camouflage. Every tag had Brett’s name written on it. Pain stabbed her as sharp as a K-bar. She swallowed back the sob that thrust into her throat and opened the closet door. Grabbing the bare hangers there, she started unpacking for her brother.

When her mother returned to the bedroom, Zoe had a third of the bag unpacked and struggled to dump the rest onto the bed. Clara rushed forward to help her lift the heavy canvas duffle and give it a shake.

A mess kit, canteen, and ditty kit tumbled out with a crushed mass of t-shirts and underwear. Clara began sorting socks and pairing them while Zoe refolded the t-shirts and placed them in a dresser drawer.

Zoe paused in folding a shirt as her mother dragged a sock heavy with something across the bed. Clara shook the white boot sock and a sheathed knife dropped onto the bed.

“We probably need to put that in Hawk’s gun safe, just in case,” Zoe suggested.

“Probably so,” Clara agreed and set the weapon on the nightstand.

Hearing a sound like dice in a cup a few minutes later, Zoe turned from hanging uniforms in the closet.

Clara held up a small circular stone. “Wonder what these are?”

Zoe limped to the bed and picked up one of the small cylinder shaped stones. She studied the pictographs on it. “They look like stamps.”

“Would they be souvenirs?” Clara asked.

“Most likely. They’d be pretty placed in a shadow box frame. Maybe I can do that for Brett.”

“We’ll pick up a frame this week. I’ll put them in my purse so we won’t forget them.” She scooped them up and placed them back in the sock.

“We can come back another day and unpack the boxes, Mom. I know you’re eager to do that.”

“I just want Brett to have a home to come to after he’s discharged from the hospital.”

Her mother’s vulnerability, the hope she tried so hard to hold on to, seemed dulled today by grief. The emotional rollercoaster they both endured on a daily basis had taken a sudden plunge for Clara.

Zoe grabbed the sea bag from the bed and, folding it up, took it to the closet. “We’ll have this place whipped into shape before he gets out,” she said as she shoved it onto a shelf. She flinched at her own forced positive tone.

Clara rose from the bed and brushed a distracted hand through her auburn hair. “I’m a little tired, Zoe. You wouldn’t mind going to the hospital without me for a few hours.”

“No, of course not, mom.”

She scanned Clara’s expression. The fine lines around her mother’s eyes seemed to have grown deeper just since they’d arrived at the apartment.

It was so hard to hold on to hope when there was never any positive news to encourage it. Had her mother hit an emotional wall?

“Do you want to stay and unpack a few boxes?” Zoe asked.

“No, I just need a little while to myself.”

Zoe slid her arms around her mother, her hold fierce.

Clara clung to her, her arms tight, her body taut. After several moments, her muscles relaxed and she stepped back. She brushed at the tears that glazed her cheeks. Weariness invaded her expression. “Maybe I just need a nap. Let’s go.”

“Is there somewhere you need to stop before I drop you off at the house?” Zoe asked during the short elevator trip to the lobby.

“No, I don’t think so.”

As the elevator door opened Clara murmured, “Shit—I forgot the knife and Brett’s souvenirs.”

Zoe laid a hand against the door to hold it open. “No problem. I can run back up and get them. It won’t take a minute. Why don’t you go on to the car and wait for me.” She leaned against the door to keep it open while she dug in her purse for the keys. She handed them to Clara, accepted the ones her mother offered her, and then stepped back inside the elevator, allowing the door to close.

Was there any way at all she could make things easier for her mother? She shook her head and raked her fingers through the long ponytail that hung over her shoulder. Frustration clogged her throat and she drew a deep breath. If only they weren’t so damn helpless in all this.

The elevator door opened and she limped out into the hall. She thumbed through the keys her mother had handed her and selected one.

The air inside the apartment smelled fresher for having the sliding glass doors open for a time, but there was also an elusive scent hanging in the room. Shaving cream? Suntan lotion? No.

Zoe strode down the hall into the bedroom. The sheathed knife and sock lay together on the nightstand. She picked up the knife and swinging her shoulder bag forward, unzipped it and shoved it inside.

Her eyes fell on the chest in which she’d placed Brett’s underwear and socks. The top drawer hung open. Hung open when she’d closed it just moments before.

Time stopped.

One beat of her heart shoved into another. Every breath drew the indistinct scent into her lungs.

Her body seemed frozen, numb, her limbs liquid.

Silence stretched as loud as a scream.

Her attention swung to the closet and froze. Was someone inside hiding? Were eyes looking through the slats at her? The louvered doors seemed to bow forward though they didn’t move.

Her fingertips rested on the sheathed knife. She’d never get the knife out and if she did he’d take it away from her and—

Feeling light headed, she pressed a hand to the nightstand. The sock filled with stones lay beneath her palm. She wrapped the top of the cotton garment around her hand. As the weighted toe swung upward, the stones rattled, like marbles clicking together. Her lungs seized. Her body shook.

Move! Move god damn it! Her legs felt spongy and weak as she hedged sideways giving the closet a wide birth. If he came out of the closet would she have the strength to swing the sock? Her shoulder blades brushed hard against the doorframe as she strained away from it and backed into the hall.

Her joints felt loose, her steps clumsy as, reaching the end of the hall, she turned and ran out of the apartment.

A few moments later, she hugged the elevator wall, as her lungs worked like bellows. Her leg ached and burned as though the damaged muscle had been ripped apart.

Had there been someone there? Or was it all in her imagination?

There had to be someone there? She’d closed the drawer. She knew she had. She wasn’t crazy.

Had there really been a scent left behind. Or could it have just been Flash’s aftershave? Had she noticed him wearing aftershave? Would it have lingered in the air with the balcony door open? Not likely.

She had to get the manager to go back up with her and check the apartment.

They’d be gone by then. Thank God. But how had they gotten in?

The sock hung heavily against her side. Thank God she hadn’t had to use it.

Chapter Six

‡

Lieutenant Commander Jackson eyed Hawk over the report he held, his features taut with a frown. Silence, tense and oppressive, stretched between them.

“So you’re certain of Flash’s position outside the building?”

Jackson asked.

Hawk forced his clenched fists open and rested his hands on his thighs. “Yes, sir. He was monitoring the movements of the tangos from the exterior and signaling us on the radio.”

“Where was Ensign O’Connor?”

“His duty was to set charges at the North corner of the build, bottom floor. He finished, exited the building and signaled.”

“But you didn’t see him exit the building.”

“No, sir.”

“And Ensign Rivera?”

“Bottom floor, back room, South corner.”

“Ensign Armstrong?”

“Bottom floor, back room, South East corner. And EnsignWeaver had the North West corner. I had the middle two rooms and the stairs.”

“And you finished ahead of the others?”

“I got inside ahead of the others by a few minutes. I exited the building out a side window and took up a position across the street beneath the wall of a bombed out building there.”

“Lieutenant Carney backs that up.”

Hawk nodded. “Flash was acting radio man and was positioned on the roof of one of the buildings diagonal to the target.”

“He observed the operation—including Ensign Weaver’s rescue.”

“Yes, sir.”

“From his testimony, and the other men’s, you should receive a commendation for saving Ensign Weaver’s life.”

Hawk raised one brow. A commendation hadn’t played into his actions. It wouldn’t help Cutter walk out of the hospital a whole man.

“Was there any bad blood between Weaver and any of the men in the team?” Jackson continued.

“Not that I’m aware of, sir.”

“Armstrong and O’Connor were the last two out and Rivera just minutes before.”

“Yes, sir. Armstrong raised the alarm, and O’Connor worked like a mad man to keep Weaver alive until we could reach the extraction point. Rivera and Carney helped me walk every step of the way there. Shaker guarded our back door. He’d taken out two tangos before we withdrew and two more during the extraction. We worked as a team, sir.”

“Then what happened to Weaver inside that room, Lieutenant?” Jackson’s voice took on an impatient tone.

There had been no debris around him. No sign of the weapon used to bash in his skull. There’d been no time to look. And they couldn’t exactly return to the scene and investigate the evidence now that the building was toast. “I don’t know, sir.”

Jackson closed the report and tossed the manila folder aside. He rose and folded his arms.

Hawk followed suit coming to parade rest.

“Officially we’re going to list this as an accident. But unofficially this will hang over every man’s head in your team until we find out what happened, Lieutenant. Because you were the leader of the mission, it will hang over yours as well.”

Having it spoken straight out had the knot in Hawk’s gut tightening. In other words it could affect his promotion possibilities. For himself. For his team. “I understand, sir.”

“These men know you, trust you. I’m expecting you to find out what the hell’s going on with them. I want this shit squared away. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Hawk kept his expression under control as a quick spike of renewed anger roiled inside his gut. Who ever had hurt Cutter had succeeded in injuring the whole team in the process.

For a few moments Jackson’s gaze continued to bore into him.

With an impatient twitch of his shoulders he breathed, “Dismissed.”

*

Hawk straightened his knee, pushing against the pressure the therapist put on the bottom of his foot. The joint remained a little tender but he completed the exercises the therapist put him through with ease. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d be able to start some light training in a few weeks to work off some of this frustration. Not that it would do much good if he couldn’t discover what had happened to Cutter.

God damn, Jackson. He fought to shove back the anger and resentment the man had triggered.

“You’re doing very well,” the therapist said.

He’d probably do better if it were Zoe massaging his knee, instead of a guy with black hair on the back of his hands. The instant reaction the thought provoked had him sucking air through his teeth. He needed a distraction and she certainly provided it.

“You’re not overusing the joint, are you?

“No.” He shook his head. Zoe and her mother took care of the household chores and shopping. The inactivity was driving him crazy. With nothing else to focus on, he remained hyper alert to everything Zoe did. Zoe reading. Zoe snacking on an apple and licking the juice from her lips. Zoe sleeping on the lounge on the back porch her cheeks flushed, her features relaxed, and vulnerable, and so damned beautiful. Watching her do the most mundane things could spark off that hot gut wrenching need.

He twisted his attention back to the exercise the therapist led him through. Once his knee was back in shape he’d be able to drive again and find distractions outside the house. He had to pursue the answers he needed from his men.

With his therapy concluded, he caught the elevator to the third floor. Exiting the elevator, he saw Zoe as she walked just ahead of him down the hallway to Brett’s room. The brace she had strapped around the lower half of her leg this morning offered her support, but made her gait stiffer and more awkward. It didn’t detract from the rounded curve of her buttocks, though. She had the most perfectly shaped ass he’d ever seen—among other things.

He called to her and she turned, a canned soft drink clutched in her hand.

The strain he read in her expression had him quickening his pace.

“How did your therapy go?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“Good. One of your men is here.”

Seeing nothing unusual in the occurrence he raised a brow in inquiry.

“Ensign Armstrong.”

“Yeah. Derrick’s been on leave ever since we hit stateside. Some kind of family emergency.”

She reached for the handle of the door, but he grasped it first and opened it for her.

When he saw the two of them, Derrick paused in mid-sentence as he spoke to Angela, Brett’s day nurse, and rose to his feet.

“Strong Man, how’d the trip go? Everything all right?” he inquired as he extended a hand.

Dressed in his winter blues, the man’s muscular bulk was evident as he shifted his body to shake hands. Derrick’s obsession with weight lifting was well known among the team. He had obviously been pumping iron to recover the definition he’d lost while out of the country.

“Yeah, everything worked out. My sister had her baby, prematurely. She’s going to be all right, but the baby will have to stay in the neonatal unit for a while. They think he’ll be okay though.”

“You’re a new uncle. Where’s my cigar?”

Derrick smiled. “Hey, good idea. I’ll have to pick up a box to give out to the team.”

“They didn’t have any bottled water.” Zoe extended the soft drink to Derrick and he smiled.

“That’s all right.” He focused on Hawk. “I just got off the plane from Louisiana and came straight here. Couldn’t get an attendant’s attention long enough to get a drink before touchdown.” He popped the top on the drink. “Got a cup?”

Zoe crossed to the bedside and returned with a plastic cup wrapped in cellophane. She unwrapped it, careful not to touch the lip.

“I don’t normally drink anything with caffeine or sugar,” Strong Man said as he poured the liquid into the cup. “I’ll share with you,” he extended the can to Zoe.

“No thank you.” Her stilted tone had Hawk studying her expression.

Though shorter by several inches, Derrick gave the impression of being taller than he was because of the width of his shoulders and the thickness of his arms. His blond haired, blue-eyed good looks usually drew flirtatious smiles from the fairer sex, not the wariness Zoe exhibited.

“I have to get back to my other patients,” Angela said. “May I speak with you for a moment out in the hall, Zoe?”

Surprising him, Zoe slipped an arm around his waist and leaned against his side. It seemed natural to curve an arm about her waist in response.

“Why don’t you have a seat and rest your knee? You and Ensign Armstrong can catch up while I stretch my legs,” she said as she rested a palm against his chest.

With the softness of her breast pressing into his ribs, and the graceful curve of her waist beneath his hand, he experienced more than a little regret when she pulled away and left the room.

His attention focused back on Derrick. The words, “What the hell did you say to her?” were on the tip of his tongue as Armstrong handed him the pop can and said, “Cutter didn’t mention he had a sister that hot.”

A surge of irritation had him wanting to grind his teeth. “Brothers don’t normally think of their sisters in those terms.”

“I guess not. Something weird’s going down here, LT. Ms. Weaver’s been looking at me like I’ve got horns and a forked tail ever since I got here. Had she not said you’d show up soon, I’d have already bugged out.”

“What do you think is going on?” He asked.

“Something’s going on with Cutter. They kept checking him.”

Concerned, Hawk rose to his feet to stand next to Brett’s bed. It gave him a queasy feeling each time he saw the other man lying so still. He studied Brett’s features carefully and scanned the monitors, but didn’t recognize a change in their readings.

Derrick joined him there. “All the way back, I kept telling myself he’d be awake by the time I got here. Jesus—I can’t believe he’s still out of it.” He raked a hand through his hair, his features creased with worry and frustration.

A red spot on the unconscious man’s cheek drew Hawk’s attention and he turned Brett’s face to the light. A handprint stood out in stark relief.

An instant feeling of outrage and anger surged through him. “Son of a Bitch! Someone’s slapped him.”

Derrick stared at him, his lips parted in shock. “They think it was me.” His voice had a flat quality. “That’s why they were both looking at me like that.” He shook his head adamantly. “No way, LT. I’ve been Brett’s swim buddy since BUD/S. I’ve covered his back ever since. I wouldn’t smack him around, especially now. God! Look at him, he’s completely helpless.” Derrick’s features took on a pinched look.

Hawk found it hard not to believe he was telling the truth.

“Hold on. I’ll go get Zoe and Angela and we’ll talk this out.”

“They should have said something to me, so I could set them straight,” Derrick said, anger beginning to overtake his defensive tone.

Hawk stepped outside the room. Angela and Zoe stood at the end of the hall their heads close together. They started walking toward him when they saw him.

“Derrick and I need to talk with you and Angela,” he said, holding the door wide. The two women filed back into the room. “We’ve just noticed that someone has left a handprint on Brett’s face.”

“I’d only arrived five minutes before you got here,” Derrick jumped in; his attention honed in on Zoe like a heat seeking missile. “I know that would be enough time for me to have done it, but I didn’t. I swear to you, I didn’t. Cutter is my swim buddy. We cover each other’s backs. We always have. We may grab ass around, and punch each other, and do the male bonding thing, but I wouldn’t lay a hand on him now that’s he’s—like he is.” Two bright spots of color burnt in his cheeks and he nearly vibrated with outrage.

“Was there anyone out in the hall when you first arrived, Derrick?” Hawk asked.

“No. The nurses were down at the nurses’ station, doing whatever they do there. I didn’t see anyone else around. I just came in and went up to the bed. Cutter didn’t respond when I talked to him, so I knew he was either drugged, or he still hadn’t come around. I was about to go out and ask the nurses at the station about him, when Ms. Weaver came in and filled me in on what was going on.” Derrick’s attention swung from Zoe to Angela and back again. “I didn’t touch him.”

“Chill out, Derrick,” Hawk said as he laid a hand on the other man’s shoulder. He had to calm him down or he’d allow his defensiveness to cloud the issue. This situation pertained to Brett not him.

“There are security cameras on this floor aren’t there?” he asked Angela.

“Sure.”

“Show me where they’re placed.”

Hawk and Angela went out into the hall.

Zoe remained beside Brett. The anger and disbelief she had first experienced on discovering her brother had been assaulted had passed. Fear now lay like a cold stone in the pit of her stomach.

Had the man outside of Brett’s apartment really been watching her? Was it possible that man had been Derrick Armstrong? All she’d seen was blonde hair. Had someone really been in the apartment or had it been her imagination? There’d been no sign of anyone when she’d returned with a security guard to check the apartment. No sign of any disturbance.

If it wasn’t Ensign Armstrong who had left the mark on Brett’s face, it had to be someone else who had access to the base. That left the rest of his SEAL team buddies, and anyone else who applied for a visitor’s pass.

It was a slap this time, what might be done next? Anyone who would abuse a comatose patient was capable of anything.

Leaning over the railing of the bed, she laid her head down on the pillow next to her brother’s and soothed the red marks on his cheek with her fingertips. Tears ran across her nose into the pillow as the feelings of pain and grief she had been suppressing welled up to overwhelm her. What was going on here? Who would want to hurt her brother?

“Hey, Ms. Weaver. We’re going to take care of this. No one’s going to mess with Cutter again,” Derrick said from behind her, a panicky edge to his voice. “We’ll find out who it was, and then, he’ll be toast, I promise.”

She kissed Brett’s cheek and moved to hold him. His forehead lay warm against her cheek, his beard coarse beneath her fingers as she stroked his face. The life and vitality he exuded when conscious made it painful to see him as he appeared now. He had taken on the lifelessness of the cardboard cutouts candidates sometimes posted during elections.

“Please wake up, Brett, please,” she pleaded.

The door behind her opened and closed softly.

Drawing on her shaky reserves, Zoe fought to suppress her emotions and stemmed the flow of tears. She had wiped her eyes and blown her nose by the time Hawk returned with Ensign Armstrong and Angela in tow.

His limp didn’t dilute the air of command Hawk wore so effortlessly. She drew comfort from knowing he had taken charge of the situation.

He gave her a searching once over then said, “Angela has alerted security. One security camera has a straight shot at anyone getting off the elevator. The one at the end of the hall will have caught anyone coming from the stairwell from the other direction. The stairs stay locked, so they more than likely got off the elevator, but we’ll have to wait and see.”

“I’ve seen the stairwell door propped open several times late at night. I assumed it was one of the staff slipping downstairs for a smoke.” She folded her arms against her waist to cover her trembling. “I’d like Brett to have a thorough examination to make sure the welt on his cheek is the only injury he’s sustained.”

“I’ve notified Captain Connelly, and he’s on his way,” Angela said.

She nodded. “I appreciate it.” She turned her attention to Derrick Armstrong. He had seen her at her most vulnerable. She had been eyeing him like a criminal. She supposed that balanced things out in some way.

“You never said what your sister’s baby was.”

“A boy,” he answered, his features tense.

“How much did he weigh?”

“Four pounds.”

“He was tiny.” She forced a smile to her lips she hoped looked natural. “What did they name him?”

“Adam.”

Her attention shifted to Hawk. “You have a namesake.”

“Yeah, how ’bout that.”

She moistened her lips. “I don’t believe you hurt my brother, Ensign Armstrong.” Her throat tightened with more tears and she swallowed.

“Thanks.” Derrick shifted from one foot to the other. “I suppose, if I’d been in your shoes, I’d have been suspicious too.”

“As soon as we get a look at the security tapes, we’ll know who was in Brett’s room before Derrick arrived,” Hawk said. “Then we’ll deal with them.”

“I doubt security will let you see the tapes, Lieutenant,” Angela said.

“We’ll see.”

His tone had Zoe taking a good look at him. His pale gray eyes looked flat and cold. The leashed fury she read beneath his features sent a shiver down Zoe’s spine. She had thought he’d be scary when angered. She hadn’t guessed the half of it.

Chapter Seven

‡

Clara met them at the door as they entered the house, her features tense with worry. “Turner called half an hour ago. Sharon started hemorrhaging. He rushed her to the hospital. They’re doing a C-section. They don’t know about the baby yet.” she raked her fingers through her bangs. Two suitcases sat next to the front door.

The news hit Zoe like a physical blow. She closed her eyes for a moment as instant tears threatened. The hits just kept coming.

“I’ve got a flight out in an hour. I’ve called a cab because I wasn’t sure you’d be back in time to take me to the airport.”

“I can take you now, Mom.”

“No, I’ve called a cab. You’ve been with your brother for most of the day and you’re tired.” At the sound of a car horn outside, her mother turned and looked out the window. “That’s my ride.”

Clara’s composure started to crumble as she reached for the suitcases.

“I’ll get them, Clara,” Hawk said and swung a bag up in each hand.

Zoe opened the door for him then turned to embrace her mother. She fought back her tears as Clara withdrew to look into her face. “It’s going to be all right, Mom. Sharon’s young and healthy. And the baby will be fine.”

Clara searched her pockets for a tissue to wipe her face. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave Brett. I shouldn’t have to choose between them.”

The events that had taken place at the hospital and Brett’s apartment ran through Zoe’s mind. “Sharon needs you more right now than Brett does. He has me and Hawk to look out for him. He’ll be fine.”

“I know. You’re right.” She stuffed the tissue back in the pocket of her slacks. She focused on Zoe her look sharp, intent. “Don’t go back to the apartment until the locks are changed. Promise me you won’t.”

“I promise.”

“You have to pace yourself. You can’t go all out like you’ve been doing. You can’t try and take my place. Promise you’ll try and rest some. If you get sick too, I won’t be able to deal with it.”

“I’ll take it easier, I promise.”

“I’ll make sure she does, Clara,” Hawk said as he entered the house. “The team will take up the slack.”

A horn blew from outside again. “I have to go.” Clara gathered her purse and a carryon bag.

Zoe hugged her once more. “Call me as soon as you get there.”

“Turner may call before I make it there. Call me on my cell if he does,” Clara said.

Zoe nodded.

Clara embraced Hawk. “I know you’ll take care of both of them while I’m gone.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Clara broke away from him and went out the door, closing it behind her.

The ticking of the clock in the kitchen sounded loud in the silence that followed her departure.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t. She was already torn between them. Had I told her what had happened it would have just made it impossible.”

“You did the right thing.” He ran his hand down his jaw where dark stubble had begun to show. “Look, I’m going to fire up the grill and burn us some meat. We both need some food.”

She had never been less interested in eating, but she recognized the need to feed her body. She hadn’t eaten since before noon and it now hovered close to seven. She forced a smile to her lips. “I put some chicken in a marinade this morning before going to the hospital. I’ll fix a salad and nuke a couple of potatoes while you incinerate the meat.” She headed for the kitchen.

He gave a short bark of laughter. “It was only a little crispy around the edges last time.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Uh-huh.”

“I got distracted for a minute.”

“By what?”

His gray gaze swung away from her. “I refuse to answer on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.”

An ache built in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. She forced a light teasing tone, “That means it was some Baywatch beauty within seeing distance of the yard. Maybe Mandy next door.” Wishing it had been her he found distracting was like trying to touch the moon. The need to be held, comforted, loved, for just a few minutes, for forever, rose up in her like a physical pain.

*

Hawk shook his head. How could she be so completely oblivious to her own beauty? He’d been distracted by Zoe sitting out on the back stoop looking into the sun as it disappeared over the horizon. Bathed in pale peach light, her skin had taken on such an iridescent softness he’d had to fight hard not to reach for her. Just thinking about it brought a heavy feeling to his groin.

“It wasn’t Mandy,” he said. He couldn’t say more. They were going to be alone together for two or three weeks, if not longer. He had to be careful.

He frowned. Zoe attributed his distraction to someone else too easily. She didn’t see herself as a desirable woman because of her leg. Even though the single men in the team continued to flirt with her, it never occurred to her they could be serious. Her attitude made things easier for him from the standpoint that if she didn’t take any of them seriously, she wouldn’t get involved with one of them. And if she didn’t get involved, it wouldn’t kill him to see her with someone else. God, he had it bad.

Why couldn’t he learn? He couldn’t give her what she needed any more than he could Veronica. Not until he left the team. He didn’t need to get involved with a woman who already fought against being drawn back into the “the life”. It would be a recipe for disaster for them both.

Zoe bent to get the salad fixings from the vegetable bin at the bottom of the refrigerator. He studied her rounded derriere and his palm tingled with the urge to run his hand over the shapely curve. Her mother had just walked out the door. He had promised to look out for her. If he moved in on her now, it would be a betrayal of her trust. He had told the men that getting involved with Zoe was not a good idea and here he was aching to do just that.

They needed to get out of the house.

“We could go out, if you don’t feel like cooking,” he suggested.

Zoe straightened the vegetable bags clenched in her hands. She looked over her shoulder at him. “I don’t mind fixing a salad and nuking some potatoes. But if you’d rather—”

“What about pizza or Chinese?” he suggested.

She bit her lip, “I don’t want to leave in case Turner calls.”

“I have my cell and can have the call forwarded, but on second thought—” He retrieved a pad and pencil from the counter close to the phone. “Tell me what you want and I’ll order. You can go lie down until it gets here.”

She shrugged. “Curry Beef, fried rice, and an egg roll,” she said as she put the vegetables back in the refrigerator.

Surprised, he said, “I didn’t know you liked spicy stuff.”

“I love hot food, particularly curry.”

“Next time I barbecue I’ll fix my hot sauce to put on the meat.”

“Hot sauce on a charcoal briquette does not sound appetizing.” She flashed a smile, but worry dulled the affect.

He frowned at her in mock anger and tried to hide the concern that tightened the muscles of his shoulders and neck. If something horrible happened to her sister and the baby, how would Zoe handle it? How would he handle her? His stomach churned. He didn’t want just to be a shoulder to lean or cry on. Another brother. Hell no!

But he couldn’t be anything else either. It was too opportunistic. Once they knew Sharon and the baby were all right—There couldn’t be a once. He couldn’t get involved with Zoe. She didn’t want it, he didn’t want it. Damn this was hard.

He forced a bantering tone as he said, “You have to give me one more shot at the barbeque to redeem myself. Flamethrower chicken, tomorrow night, hot off the grill at six o’clock.”

“All right.”

He flipped open his cell phone and ordered the food. After ending the call he said, “It’ll be about thirty minutes. You can lie down for a while if you’d like.”

“I’ll make some iced tea to drink with dinner first.”

He wandered into the living room and turned on the television. Kicking off his shoes he propped his feet on the coffee table and slouched down into the cushions. He tried to watch baseball, but the game became background noise as he tracked Zoe’s location in the house as she walked from kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen again, and then traveled the distance of the hall, her uneven gate a distinctive cadence.

She entered the living room carrying two glasses of iced tea. She handed one to him and took a seat at the other end of the couch. She had changed into low-slung sweat pants and the old t-shirt he was beginning to love because it left a narrow band of skin visible at the bottom of the shirt and one shoulder bare.

“You can stretch out, there’s plenty of room,” he said.

“I’m all right.” She found a coaster for her drink and curled her legs up on the cushion beside her, then folded her arms against her waist again. “This waiting is hard.”

His attention swung to her face taking in the tension in her expression. “Yes, it is. Your brother-in-law will call in a few minutes.”

“I hope so.”

“We have to do a lot of waiting in the SEALs. Wait until we get to the location. Wait until we’re in position. Sometimes we have to wait hours, or even days, depending on the mission. The rescues are better. With those you’re trained to make sure everything goes like clockwork and you don’t lose anyone.” Or at least as few as possible.

“You rescued Brett,” she said, her voice soft.

His attention swung from the television to her face. As long as the mission was between them there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d lower those barriers and let him in. Maybe that was a good thing. Or was it? “Who told you that?”

“Doc said something in passing this afternoon at the hospital.”

He couldn’t tell her specifics about the mission but—“Brett didn’t show up where he was supposed to be. It still isn’t clear to me, or anyone else, why. I got to him just before detonation. He was already down when I found him.”

“And now someone’s slapping him while he’s in a coma, just to make sure he isn’t waking up.”

“Yeah.”

She blinked several times fighting back tears. He drew a breath of relief when she retained her composure.

“I think there was someone in the apartment today after mom and I left.”

Hawk sat up, his body tense. Jesus Christ!

“Mom forgot something in the bedroom, so I left her downstairs in the lobby and went back up to get it. I can’t prove it, but I just got the feeling—it was weird. The drawer in the bedroom was hanging open and I’d just closed it.” She shook her head, confusion and fear working its way across her features. “I got the knife and other things and got out of there.”

“Jesus, Zoe.” His heart wedged it’s way between his ribs, its beat so harsh.

“The security guard went back upstairs with me and checked it out, but there wasn’t anyone there. But there was a smell, like shaving cream or something—I couldn’t really place it.”

She raked her fingers through her hair. “It sounds crazy when I say it out loud. I just sensed there was someone there. It scared the daylights out of me.”

“God, Zoe. Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were at your meeting with your commander, and there wasn’t anything you could do.” She drew a deep breath. “It may have just been my imagination.” She dragged her hair over one shoulder. “In any case, we’re having the locks changed. And the security guard offered to check the apartment a couple times a day until Brett gets home.”

Hawk laid a hand over hers. “If anything at all like this happens again, no matter what the hell’s going on, call me.”

Her smile was half hearted though her hand covered his. “I don’t want to think it but it feels as though someone on your team may have it in for my brother.”

“Yeah, I know.” What the fuck was going on? Anger and betrayal clenched inside him and his stomach rolled.

She uncurled her legs and turned toward him. “What do we do about it?”

Her instant drive to be proactive, to solve the problem had anxiety spiking.

“How can you be sure it wasn’t me, Zoe?”

Her gaze remained steady on his face. “It wasn’t you. You wouldn’t have risked your life to save him otherwise.”

Relief raced through him and some of the tension eased from his shoulders and back. “The nurses are on red alert now. Whoever it is will wait until things calm down before they try anything else.”

She nodded. “You saw the tapes today from the hall cameras.”

“Yeah. I viewed it along with half a dozen MP’s and their commander. A guy dressed in scrubs came up the stairwell, entered the hallway, and went directly into Brett’s room. No one else was in the hallway at the time. He stayed five minutes then left by the same route. The scrubs were large and baggy, and we couldn’t get a read on his build. The cap he wore covered his hair. He didn’t wear a mask, but he knew where the cameras were and how to keep his face averted from them. He even had rubber gloves covering his hands so you couldn’t tell about his skin color. They’re making me a copy to give to Lang. Next to Flash he’s our best computer expert. We’ll see if he can freeze-frame it and enhance some of the images to try and get a better look at the guy. But it could take some time.”

“In the meantime, what do we do?” she asked.

“Exactly what we are doing. Keep the staff on high alert and make sure none of the guys on the mission at the time of Cutter’s injury are alone with him. I requested a guard put on Cutter’s room, but it’s doubtful it will go through since it was just a slap and not an open attempt on his life. And we don’t have any proof there was an attempt during the mission.”

“Which ones?”

He hesitated. She had to know otherwise she’d be paranoid about all the guys. “Greenback was guarding our backdoor. I think he had his hands too full to have been involved.”

“I haven’t met him yet.”

“No, his wife just had a baby before we went wheels up and he requested some time. That leaves Flash, Strong Man, Bowie, and Doc.”

She closed her eyes and he could almost see her taking in the fact that someone she had broken bread with, flirted with, laughed with, might have tried to kill her brother. Her throat worked as she swallowed. When she opened her eyes she looked directly at him. “This must be very hard for you.”

He gave a wry grimace. “You could say that. My life has been in all these guys’ hands more than once, Zoe. The thought that any one of them could betray a fellow team member is just un-fucking-believable.” The betrayal of it rolled around inside him making him sick. He shook his head, clenching and unclenching his hands as he fought the urge to hit something.

She shifted closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Hawk.”

He covered her hand with his, holding it against his skin, and absorbing the warmth of her touch. The need to drag her closer, to bury his face in the softly scented bend of her throat and take comfort from her was nearly overwhelming. Only family could give that special kind of comfort. It had been a long time since he’d had any family. The realization he was looking to Zoe for that, hit him with the punch of an AK-47.

He was getting in too deep, already. That nagging need to be close, to be connected to her, left him vulnerable. And what if he reached out to her? He couldn’t give her the security she deserved. Where would that leave him?

He dragged his attention back to the discussion at hand. “There’s something else. There could be more than one of them involved. The guys in my team are—tight. Or at least I thought we were. We look out for one another. Doc and Bowie are especially close. If one thought the other was being threatened, he’d cover for him. I thought Cutter and Strong Man were close too.” He raked his fingers through his close-cropped hair, pressing his palms against his scalp to hold back the anger. “God, I used to think we really knew each other, but after today, I’m not so sure anymore.”

“You can live with someone and not really know them, Hawk. No one shares everything about themselves with anyone, even their family. It could be one of them working alone and the other knows nothing about it. First, I think we have to look closely at Brett’s relationship with them all. Do you know if he owed anyone money?”

“No. But that’s not something he would talk about, is it?”

“Did he like to play poker, make bets, that kind of thing? I’ve never known him to be that interested in that sort of thing, but with him way out here, and us on the other coast I thought he might have changed.”

“The guys all make little side bets about who’ll be the first to complete an underwater demolition or reach the ground after we rappel out of a helo.”

“Jesus.” She shook her head. “I’m talking football games and you’re talking war games.”

“It’s a way of shaking off tension before we do something dangerous. You can’t just go into something like that cold without your mind and body gearing up for it.” He suddenly wondered if he were telling her too much about what they did. He didn’t want to scare her off and make her any more gun shy than she already was.

“Don’t, Hawk.”

“Don’t?”

“I can tell from your expression you’re getting ready to shut down on me.” She touched his arm again. “I’m not some tender Tillie who can’t handle the truth.”

A soft huff of laughter escaped him. She read him better than he did her. She was more complex than the other women in whom he’d been interested. Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to understand the others like he did her. The back and forth transition from tough one minute to soft and vulnerable the next was a little hard to figure when it changed so quickly from moment to moment.

The phone rang at the same time a knock sounded at the door. For a moment Zoe froze, a look of anxious dread flitting across her face before she reached for the phone. Hawk rose to answer the door but focused on her features hoping to read something from her expression. He grabbed the takeout food from the delivery boy and shoved some money at him with an abruptness just short of rude.

“Need any change, man?” the kid asked.

“No.”

Zoe sank back down on the couch, the receiver pressed to her ear. Her features appeared taut, and her fingers gripped the phone so tightly each joint stood out.

He swore beneath his breath unable to tell anything from her body language. He set the bag of food down on the coffee table. Every muscle grew tight as he waited for her to hang up. “Yes” and “no” and “Mom is on her way”, didn’t give him much to go on, but the fact that she remained calm eased some of his anxiety.

“The baby is all right,” she said as soon as she hung up. “She was in distress and they had to get her out pretty quickly, but the pediatrician said she’s doing fine now.” She swallowed and her composure wobbled, but she held on. “They had to do an emergency hysterectomy on Sharon. They couldn’t get the bleeding stopped. She’s had to have transfusions.” She rubbed her arms as though cold. “They nearly lost her.”

He had to hold her. All the reasons why he shouldn’t didn’t matter in that moment.

He sat down next to her and put his arms around her. The way her head found the perfect spot between his chest and shoulder to rest in, the way her breasts pushed against his ribs had a rightness to it. There was no reserve in the way she wrapped her arms around him and held on. It seemed he’d waited months, not weeks, for a reason to hold her.

If only she were allowing him to do so under different circumstances.

She shook with reaction but she didn’t cry. Driven to offer her comfort he said, “They didn’t lose her or the baby. No matter what other sacrifices had to be made, Zoe, that’s the important thing.”

She nodded. “I have to call Mom.”

Without releasing her, he stretched back to tug the cell phone from his belt and flipped it open. He scrolled down to Clara’s number and pressed it, then waited for her to pick up. When she didn’t answer, he said, “She must be on the flight already. The tower may allow the pilot to get a message to her though. I’ll get the phone book and call the airport.”

She drew back releasing him, but her hand rested on his chest for a moment, and she looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Hawk.”

Confused, he asked, “For what?”

“It’s been one family drama after another ever since we moved in here. It’s not normally like this with us. If it gets to be too much for you—”

“Not a chance,” he cut her off. “I’m sticking around for when something good happens to balance things out. Hey, it already has—you’re an aunt again.”

“Yes, I am.” She offered him an unsteady smile and her shoulders fell in a release of tension.

“Congratulations, Aunt Zoe.” He brushed her lips with a kiss he told himself was a friendly gesture, but his lips clung to hers. The soft, lush texture of her mouth begged to be explored. He wanted to taste her, test her response. He forced himself to pull back before teeth and tongue came into play.

Her eyes looked huge, and a pale vibrant blue. He read surprise in her expression and something else that grabbed him right below the belt.

“I’ll get the phone book.” He grasped the bag of food and carried it into the kitchen. He had to get away from her before he did something stupid. Like kiss her again.

Chapter Eight

‡

Langley Marks swung the station wagon into a parking space at the firing range. Sporadic gunfire echoed from just over the man-made rise. “Flash, Doc, and Bowie should be here instructing.” He didn’t put the vehicle in park but continued to eye Hawk. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Hawk shook his head. How had Lang known something was happening? Had he read his body language? Had something he’d said alerted him? He studied his expression. Lang was his oldest and closest friend since joining the unit. He trusted him implicitly. Besides he’d had only a peripheral part in planning and implementing the mission.

“Officially, Cutter’s injuries have been ruled an accident. Unofficially, the brass has decided that until they know for certain what happened, those of us who took part in the mission, have a cap on our promotions.”

“Jesus.” Langley leaned back against the seat and shoved the gearshift into park. His expression remained blank with shock for several moments then he looked up. “Something else is going on here.”

“Something happened while we were in Iraq, something Cutter saw or did.” Hawk rubbed a hand along his jaw. “I don’t know.”

“They believe one of the team caved his head in and left him to die,” Langley said as though trying to absorb it.

“Yeah.”

Lang turned toward him. “They can’t think it was you.”

“No. But they expect me to get to the bottom of it. And the only way I can do that is talk to the guys and see what they know.”

“Doc and Bowie are tight. They won’t give each other up, if they’re involved.”

“Yeah.”

“Derrick’s a hot head, but he and Cutter have been tight since BUD/S. And Flash was never inside the building.”

“As far as we know,” Hawk said.

Langley’s brows rose. “Do you have any reason to believe differently?”

“No, but I’m not limiting any possibilities. Shaker had his hands full with a tango but I’m not ruling him out either. I need to find out what Cutter was up to before the mission. If he had any disagreements with any of the men, owed them any money, that kind of thing.”

“I can’t see any of them going ape shit over money, so it has to be something else.”

“Yeah, something worse. Something that could affect their careers. But what?”

Langley shook his head. “Jesus.” He rubbed a hand over his closely cut hair. “And what if all this is bullshit, and Cutter just fell or something? It will affect all your careers—for nothing.”

“No shit. But if it was just bullshit, why would someone be slapping him around to make sure he wasn’t waking up?”

“Damn.”

The disheartened tone of Langley’s voice mirrored Hawk’s own feelings.

Hawk shoved his hand into his pack and came out with a DVD of the hospital footage. “I need you to freeze frame the images on this disc and see if you can see who it is that came out of Cutter’s room that morning.”

“Consider it done. Flash is better at this than I am, but I suppose under the circumstances, you don’t want to take it to him.”

Hawk ignored the comment. “Zoe’s staying at the hospital practically twelve hours a day afraid to leave Cutter alone.”

“Shit,” Lang breathed. “She can’t keep that up.”

“No she can’t. That’s why I’m here. Doc, Flash, and Bowie are here and I’m going to see what I can find out from them.”

“Do you need me to watch your back?” Lang thumped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, his features twisting with a grimace part anger, part frustration. “I can’t believe I just asked that. Jesus—These men are members of our team.”

Team. That word had taken on a different connotation to Hawk as soon as he’d discovered Brett unconscious inside the building. Would he ever be able to trust anyone as completely again? Realizing Lang was waiting for an answer he looked up. “I’ll be all right. Keep your distance, Lang. You don’t want to get tangled up in this.”

“I’m here for you, Hawk, and for the team. Whatever you need.”

Langley’s show of loyalty loosened the knot of tension twisting his insides. “Thanks, man. I may need to use you as a sounding board, but I think it’s smart to keep it between just the six of us.”

“And what about, Zoe?”

“She’s agreed to stay quiet until I figure things out.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“We’re Cutter’s team too. Zoe’s a Marine Corps brat. She knows how important it is to all of our careers. She knows the score.” Maybe too well.

“Is she protecting everyone’s career or just Cutters?”

Was it just her brother she was protecting? “I don’t know.”

Lang’s brows rose.

“We’re not—We haven’t—” Hawk drew a deep breath. “Her mother asked me to look after her. I won’t break that trust.”

Lang’s smile held a wry twist. “That’s an admirable position, but I’ve seen the way you look at her, my friend. And I’ve seen how she looks at you, too.”

He couldn’t deny the attraction that ricocheted back and forth between them, but Zoe wasn’t going to act on it. He had a gut feeling about that. “She doesn’t want to get drawn back into the life. Her Dad was killed in Desert Storm and now Cutter’s—” He swallowed. “And there are other issues.”

Lang raised one thick brow. “Her leg?”

“Yeah.” Hawk rubbed his jaw and tried to relax the urge to grit his teeth in frustration.

Lang’s gaze grew sharp. “I wouldn’t have thought that would matter to you.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Hawk said his tone certain.

Lang frowned. “Shit.”

That just about said it all.

Hawk grabbed his pack. “I’ve got to go.”

“Call when you’re ready to head back to the hospital. I’ll be at the administration building.”

“Thanks.”

Hawk limped across the parking lot. A knoll of ground separated the cars from the range. He followed the path to the top of the shallow hill. BUD/S trainees lay on the ground shooting at distant targets with AK47s. The cacophony of sound assaulted his ears as they fired.

Doc O’Conner paced back and forth behind the men watching as they practiced. As Hawk drew close, Doc’s haggard look became evident. Blood vessels lined the whites of his eyes like tributaries and lines of stress dug crevices around his mouth.

At Hawk’s greeting, Doc’s smile appeared strained.

“How’s it going?” Hawk asked.

“This batch seems better than most,” Doc said during a lull in the noise. “Ensign Jeffers, the guy at the end, has sniper training. He’s lethal every time.”

Hawk watched the trainee for a moment. “Did you have a party and not invite me, Doc? You look a little rough around the edges.”

Doc grinned. “No party. Well at least not one more than two people attended.”

Was it really just a late night with a woman? Or something else?

“How’s, Zoe?” Doc asked.

“Still spending twelve hour days at the hospital. We need to talk about Cutter. When will you be through here?”

“Something happen?”

“Yeah.”

Doc glanced at his watch. “It’ll be about an hour before we’re relieved.”

“Is Bowie around?”

“Yeah, he’s walked down to the head and will be back in a minute.”

“Bring him along. I thought Flash was here, too.”

“He’s down at the administration building keying in a report.”

Hawk nodded. “I’ll give him a call on my cell.”

Doc’s brow furrowed and dread took up residence in his eyes. “Is Cutter worse? Is he—?”

“No. But I need to speak with you about him. I’ll be on the pistol range when you’re done here.”

Hawk sauntered down the field past multiple long distance training ranges to the sheltered pistol range and spoke to the range master to set up his target. Between the barrages of fire, he made a quick call to Flash on his cell and promised to meet him at the administrative building in an hour. He lifted his pack upon the narrow shelf that marked his firing position and separated him from the field.

What if they were all somehow involved in what had happened? His team. He flinched inwardly. Whether they were or weren’t, he already looked at them differently. He’d viewed these men as part of his family.

God, he hated this.

He removed his nine-millimeter Sig Sauer and several clips of ammunition and placed them on the shelf. He slid the bolt back to check the weapon’s chamber and finding it clear, slapped in a clip. He slid on his protective headgear, thumbed off the safety, raised the handgun, and waited for the next signaled burst of fire.

Squeezing the trigger and boring holes in the distant target helped relieve some of his frustration. Temporarily.

After he finished his practice, he stood atop the shallow plateau above the range and watched other personnel cycle in and out.

Thirty minutes later, Doc and Bowie arrived in a military Humvee. As they exited the vehicle, he studied each man’s expression. Would it have been better if he’d talk to each alone? They’d faced BUD/S together. If they had a choice, they’d faced the charges, the disruption to their careers together. Hawk rolled his head to loosen the taut muscles in his neck.

“Hey, LT. What’s up?” Bowie asked.

“They’re still looking into Cutter’s accident and I wanted to touch base with you on it. Do either of you remember Cutter behaving differently before we were called up on the mission?”

Bowie shook his head. “No. He was joking and jacking around just before the drop. We were talking about going out with twin sisters he’d met when we got back home. If they were still available.”

Hawk remembered the conversation. “He hadn’t been complaining about headaches or any other physical problems?”

Doc and Bowie each shook their head.

“He’d been working out some with Derrick, not as obsessively as Strong Man, but just enough to get some definition,” Doc volunteered.

“How was he with Strong Man and Flash? Did you pick up on any tension between him and either of them?”

“No,” Doc said.

Hawk studied Bowie’s frown. “Is there something you remember?”

“It was nothing. Flash said something to him about minding his own business the day before the drop.”

“What about?”

“I don’t know. It sounded like he was just giving him some advice about something.”

“Anything else you can think of?”

“Why would Cutter go back into the building after he’d already gotten out?” Doc asked.

Hawk frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I saw him climbing back through the window after he should have completed his run.”

He’d gotten out of the building, then turned around and gone back in. Why would he do that? Had he heard or seen something? Forgotten something? Not a chance with their training.

There were three blonds on the team. Cutter, Strong Man, and Flash. Had it been one of the others? Strong Man had radioed Cutter’s absence. Flash had been positioned on the roof diagonally from the target location. If it hadn’t been Cutter climbing inside the building, then who? Could Strong Man have radioed from inside the building?

“Are you sure it was him, Doc? Could you see the guy’s hair?”

“No, it was too dark. Who else would it have been?”

“They don’t think it was an accident.” Bowie’s tone was as flat as his gaze.

“No, they don’t.”

Doc’s eyes widened. “Jesus—”

Bowie’s features grew taut. “We’re all under suspicion, aren’t we?” He stepped close into Hawk’s space. “What the hell did you put in your report, Hawk?”

Hawk braced a hand on Bowie’s shoulder and met his gaze. “I wrote exactly what I found when I entered the building. Cutter was out cold and stuffed behind a cabinet, the side of his head bloody. The position of his body suggested that someone had put him there so he wouldn’t be seen.”

Bowie’s features slackened in surprise and he stepped back. He and Doc exchanged a look.

“It wasn’t either one of us, Hawk. Neither of us had a reason to hurt Cutter. He was—” Bowie paused, “is our buddy. We’d never even had words about anything.”

Hawk studied Doc. Something was going on with the man. He seemed distant, dazed. “Is that true for both of you, Doc?”

“It’s true.” The man’s gaze met his. “I’d never do anything to hurt Cutter. Never. I did my best to keep him alive until we got back to base.”

The man’s sincerity had him taking a relieved breath. His gut told him they were both telling the truth, but could he still trust his instincts. And what the hell was going on with Doc?

“All right. I want both of you to think back on the days before the mission. Every conversation, every observation, anything at all that you noticed about Cutter. And Doc, think back on the guy you saw going in through the window. Anything you observed about him.”

“You don’t think it was, Cutter?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Why would Cutter turn around and go back in once he was clear? And if it wasn’t him—” He left it hanging. “Write it all down, it may help you to think it through. If either of you remember anything at all you feel is relevant, call me. We have to figure this thing out.” He looked from one to the other. “I’m not going to let team loyalty stand in the way of finding out what happened. Neither of you should either.”

Bowie’s hands clenched and released in an open characteristic of stress, but his anger seemed to have passed. “Aye-eye, LT.”

Hawk glanced at his watch and bent to pick up his pack. “I need a ride to the admin. You guys ready to go?”

Doc nodded, the action subdued, tired. “Yeah, we’re ready.”

Silence, oppressive and painful, pressed down on Hawk as they drove from one location to the other. As Doc wheeled into the parking area, Hawk spotted Flash leaning against a car in the parking lot of the admin building waiting for him.

“Stay icy. We’ll figure this thing out,” Hawk said as he opened the door and got out.

“Damn straight,” Bowie said, his tone hard.

Doc threw up a hand as he pulled away.

Hawk returned to the gesture and he turned to face Flash.

“How’s the knee?” he asked before Hawk reached him.

“It’s coming along.”

“Good. What’s up? Has something happened to Cutter?” Flash’s brows rose then converged in a show of concern.

“No, he’s about the same.” Hawk studied Flash’s narrow face.

“You had a bird’s eye view on the whole mission. Did you see Cutter come out of the building then go back in?”

“No. All I saw was you going in after him right through the front door. That was the God damnedest thing I’ve seen since I’ve been a SEAL. Then a few minutes later when you burst out the front door and the muzzle flashes started flaring as all the tangos fired at you—” He shook his head at the memory. “You were born under a lucky star or something man. I still don’t know how you kept from getting hit.”

Uncomfortable with the memories Flash’s observations dragged up, Hawk shrugged. “Just plain lucky I guess.” He shifted his pack over his shoulder to a more comfortable position. “Did you change position at any time?”

“Not once I settled in.”

“I want you to write down everything you saw that night, Flash.”

He frowned. “I already wrote my report for Lieutenant Commander Jackson.”

“Well I want you to do it again. But this time I want you to write down everything you can remember Cutter saying or doing in the days before the mission. There are some questions about what happened to him that have to be answered before Jackson will let it go.”

Flash frowned and his jaw tensed. “All right. What’s Jackson looking for?”

“Cutter was down before I found him. He wants an explanation.”

“Shit, Hawk. Anything could have happened to him. He could have tripped and hit his head or fallen. We’re never going to know what happened.”

Was Flash hoping they wouldn’t find out? “You can go in and tell Jackson that the next time you’re at HQ.”

Flash swore beneath his breath. “I’ll try and remember what we talked about before the mission. But it’s been over a month.”

The strain of reading into what his men said, and looking at every word with suspicion, had his gut tightening painfully. Hawk swallowed against the sensation. “Do what you can.”

“All right.”

Flash’s sullenness sparked Hawk’s resentment. He drew a deep breath in a bid for patience and reached inside his pack for a copy of the CD the hospital had given him. The small subterfuge he had planned gave him a twinge or two of guilt. If Flash’s findings were different than Lang’s, would it prove anything?

“You’re good with images. I’d like you to have a look at these and see if you can figure out who this guy is. He came out of Cutter’s hospital room just before Derrick arrived.”

Flash grasped the disk case. “Will do. I’ll get right on it and call you later tonight.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Would he be so eager to get on this if he were the one on the tape? If he was, would he try and cover it up somehow? “Have you seen Lang around?”

“Yeah, he was inside talking with Lieutenant Russell.”

“I’ll catch you later.” Hawk turned.

“What happens if we never figure out what happened to Cutter?” Flash asked.

Hawk looked over his shoulder at him. Feelings of betrayal, guilt, and frustration rose up to color his words with emotion. “We’re fucked.”

Chapter Nine

‡

Zoe laughed as she watched Langley Marks, wearing an apron that read “Fireman in Training”, flip burgers at the grill. His wife, Trish, stood beside him with a small cup of water to douse the flames thrown up by grease on the charcoal.

Zoe drew in a deep breath of the chlorine-laced air and tried to relax the tension in her shoulders. God, she and Hawk had both needed to get out of the house and away from the hospital for a few hours. Since he’d gone to the shooting range the day before he’d been quiet and distracted. Who had he talked to? What had they said? Damn the Navy and damn this closed mouth policy. She was going to get him to talk to her as soon as they got home.

Zoe’s attention wandered back to Trish as she pointed at something on the grill with her left hand while the fingers of her right lingered against her husband’s nape. Langley turned to look at her, a smile playing across his wide expressive mouth. An intimate look passed between the couple.

“Incoming!”

Hawk’s shout had her looking around just as he hit the surface of the water, his body tucked in a cannonball. A fountain of water splattered the three children sitting on the side of the pool. They squealed and immediately leaped in to splash him.

Watching him play with the children, her smile reemerged. He was more than good with them. She didn’t want to think about that either.

Trish Marks placed a glass of ice tea on the table in front of her with a slice of lemon floating in it. “You’re awfully deep in thought, Zoe.”

“I’m just watching the children.”

Trish sat down across from her and folded a napkin to act as a coaster. “What’s the news on your sister and the new baby?”

“They released my sister and the baby to go home a couple of days ago. The baby is doing well. She weighs seven pounds ten ounces, and according to my brother-in-law, Turner, eats like a pig.”

Trish smiled, her freckled face wholesome and pretty. “That’s great. And your sister?”

“She’s very sore and moving slowly, but she’s going to be all right.”

Trish nodded. “That’s good.”

Zoe’s gaze traveled to the three tow-headed children in the pool as Hawk passed a beach ball with them. “Hawk’s really good with the kids.”

“Yes, he is. He even babysat with Anna and Jessica one night when we had to take Tad to the emergency room with a stomach virus.”

Zoe grinned and patted the area over her heart as though it were fluttering.

Trish laughed. “He’s going to make someone a dandy husband one day.”

With an effort, she kept her tone and expression carefully neutral. “Yes, he will.”

“How are you and he getting along without Clara?”

She swung her attention back to Trish. “Fine.”

“But—”

Zoe bit her lip to keep from smiling. “No buts.”

“But—”

She laughed. “I bet you’re really good at work.”

Trish smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ve been told I can get the most hardened gang member to talk. That’s part of being a good social worker, getting people to reveal what’s bothering them.” Her expression grew serious as she leaned her elbows on the table. “I was only teasing. I wasn’t trying to pump you for information.”

“Sure you were.” Zoe shot her a look of understanding. “You’re obviously close to Hawk and are trying to look out for him. Getting people to talk is part of my job, too. Sometimes it’s easier to get other people to talk, than it is to talk about yourself.”

“But—”

She was silent for a moment as she studied the other woman’s face. “I’m waiting for someone who’ll look at me like Langley does you.”

Trish’s blond brows rose. “The fellow in the pool might be a candidate.”

Zoe looked back at the pool and caught Hawk looking at them, his pale gray eyes light against his tanned skin. His hair, slicked to his skull with water, looked as dark as a seal’s pelt. He flashed a smile. A beach ball bounced off his head and he keeled over in the water as though the ball had knocked him out.

High-pitched squeals of glee rang out as the children descended on him. For a moment it was questionable whether the youngsters were trying to rescue him or drown him until they started to tug him to the side of the pool.

Trish rose, her attention on Langley at the grill. “Why don’t you join Hawk and the kids in the pool while I see if I can avoid a culinary disaster at the grill? I’ll loan you a suit. It’s hot as Hades out here.”

Anxiety shot through Zoe and she shook her head, though sweat rolled down between her breasts and along her sides. “I’m all right. Can I do anything to help?” She started to her feet.

Trish shook her head and waved her back down. “Everything’s taken care of since you two brought most of the meal already prepared.”

Once again she wondered about the invitation. Had Langley called Hawk during his therapy? Or had Hawk called him?

Every evening since he’d kissed her, she swung back and forth between anxiety and excitement as she anticipated being alone with Hawk. And each evening she’d tried hard to ignore the disappointment and hurt that lingered at his eagerness to spend the evening with friends, and now Langley and Trish.

God, she was pathetic. Lusting, longing, for a guy completely wrong for her. He wore a uniform, was an expert at hand to hand combat, weapons, explosives, and several other things she didn’t have a clue about. And he could be shipped out of the country at a moment’s notice. And he’d probably run the other direction if he ever once caught a glimpse of her scars or her leg.

Or would he? If he didn’t run like every other man, what then? Would she become a clinging, love-starved ninny willing to put up with months of separation and uncertainty for the intermediate bouts of celebratory sex that would follow every time he came home? And how long would it last once he saw some other woman who had two beautiful undamaged legs and no scars?

Fear gripped her by the throat, as powerful as the longing twisting her stomach into knots. She flinched at the familiar pain that pulled at her leg as she hugged it to her chest. She couldn’t even outrun the threat of so many possibilities. But she couldn’t embrace them either. She closed her eyes trying to suppress the painful ache her thoughts triggered.

She was probably reading more into the kiss than he’d intended. She was agonizing over things her overblown imagination was creating. Otherwise he would want to spend evenings alone with her instead of inviting over friends or beating a quick retreat to the Marks’ backyard.

Had he read what she was thinking in the way she had acted? Had she totally misread the entire situation? Was that why he had found a way to avoid being alone with her? God, how embarrassing to be the recipient of someone’s unwanted interest and have to live in the same house where you couldn’t avoid them.

She opened her eyes as she became aware of the lessening glare of the sun through her eyelids.

Langley stood beside her. “You okay, Zoe?”

She forced a smile to her lips though bile rose in her throat. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Just thought I’d warn you, a couple of the guys and their dates will be joining us. I’ve slapped a couple more burgers on the grill.”

“The more the merrier.” With more people around them perhaps she’d have some time to figure out how she was supposed to behave around Hawk, so he’d know she wasn’t going to inflict her unwanted attentions on him.

“Yeah, that’s what Trish always says.”

She rose. “I’ll go help her add some more lettuce to the salad and see if she needs me to run to the store for anything.” She could use a few minutes alone.

Langley grinned. “Thanks, Zoe.”

A few minutes later, gripping a shopping list with attached directions to the store in one hand, and her keys in the other, she opened the front door. Derrick Armstrong stood on the porch a slender, dark haired young woman, at his side.

“Hi.” she stood to one side and held the door open for them. “Trish is in the kitchen and Langley and Hawk are in the backyard with the children.”

“Thanks.” Derrick and the woman stepped inside. “This is Marjorie, my girlfriend. Marjorie, this is Zoe, Cutter’s sister, and Hawk’s girlfriend.”

Zoe opened her mouth to contest the statement.

“Are you leaving?” Derrick asked.

“I’m just running to the store. I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll see you later then.” Derrick turned, and with his girlfriend in tow, disappeared down the hallway.

She paused next to the car as a Toyota Camry pulled up behind her.

Bowie stepped out of his vehicle and smiled, flashing his dimples. “Need a ride, sweetheart?”

Was he the one who had hurt her brother? She forced a smile to her lips, though instant feelings of hurt laced with suspicion seemed lodged like a knife beneath her ribs. “Said the big bad wolf.”

He pointed at himself with a thumb. “Who, me?”

Zoe smiled at his expression of exaggerated amazement. “I’m just going to the store for Trish. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

“Hop in and I’ll take you. I’ll push the buggy.”

Was it wise to get into the car with him? Unable to think of a polite way to turn him down, she limped to the passenger side of the car and opened the door.

“Alone at last.” Bowie smiled again and taking her hand in his, waggled his eyebrows at her.

She shook her head at him. Being on the receiving end of his flirtatious teasing, Zoe found it difficult to imagine him hurting her. But then, all the men were trained to kill, even Hawk. “Heel, Wolfman. If we don’t get back pronto with the groceries, we may find ourselves going hungry.” She withdrew her hand to fasten her seatbelt.

“I promise I’ll feed you if we do.”

“Thank you, Bowie. I can’t promise to protect you from Trish though.” She waved the grocery list back and forth.

“Can’t say I blame you. Trish is tough. I’d put her up against any officer in the division.” He started the car and backed out of the driveway.

“So how’s Cutter doing?” he asked.

“He’s about the same. He turns over in his sleep but he just doesn’t open his eyes.”

Bowie shook his head his features growing solemn. “He’ll pull out of it. He’s tough,” he said after a moment’s silence, but his tone lacked conviction.

He eased the vehicle to a stop at a busy intersection and signaled a right turn. “So when are you going to go out with me?”

She studied his attractive even features and killer dimples. Would she have been attracted to him had Hawk not caught her interest first? Possibly. Could she find out if he was the one who had hurt Brett if they did go out? Probably not. It would be dangerous if she did. If Brett couldn’t defend himself against whoever had hurt him, she didn’t stand a chance.

“I’m not very good at the dating thing, Bowie.”

“What’s to be good at? We eat, watch a movie, talk. And other things if you feel comfortable with it.”

Her face grew hot and she studied the houses they passed with desperate interest.

“There wouldn’t be any pressure, Zoe.”

She struggled to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “You’re a really nice guy.”

“God, don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because every guy knows when a woman calls you a nice guy she’s going to turn you down.”

She laughed. “Isn’t it better to be turned down as a nice guy than a jerk?”

“It’s better not to be turned down at all.”

She smiled. “I’m sorry. It isn’t you.”

“Then who is it?”

Her cheeks burnt.

“LT tried to warn us off, you being Cutter’s sister and all. Maybe you better let him in on the fact that you’ve hooked up with someone.”

The words struck her with the force of a medicine ball to the chest. “He warned you off?”

His brows shot up and he turned his head to look at her. “Well, it was worded as a suggestion, but the gist was clear.

“I see.” Her earlier hurt slid right into a deep anger flushing her cheeks with heat and making her feel as though her ears might blow off her head. The idea of accepting a date with Bowie flitted through her mind, but it would just complicate things. Pay back seemed so petty, too.

“If you haven’t hooked up with anyone—”

Despite her anger, she forced a smile. “You keep your eye on the prize and you never give up.”

“Hooyah.”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve to be a first choice, not a substitute.”

“Who is this fool?”

A bark of laughter escaped before she suppressed it. “I’d rather not say. I’m not even sure he knows I’m interested, and I’d like an opportunity to work my way up to cluing him in.”

His warm, chocolate brown eyes held a smile. “I have to tell you this shy stuff you got going on brings out all my big, bad, male protective urges. If this guy doesn’t do right by you, you just let me know.”

Could this all be a con? Could he be that good at hiding another personality behind all his charm? “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Making a right hand turn, he pulled into the grocery store parking lot and whipped into an empty slot. He removed the key from the ignition and turned to look at her. “After I’ve cleaned his clock, you can give me a shot at that date.”

The need to come straight out and ask him about his involvement was right on the end of her tongue. Was she looking into the face of a man who could betray one of his teammates?

Studying his open gaze, she just couldn’t believe it. She had nothing to go on but instinct, and every instinct she had said Bowie wasn’t involved. But could she trust her intuition when Hawk couldn’t trust his?

“We’d better get this shopping done and get back.”

He nodded and flashed his sexy grin. “Let’s do it.”

She shook her head at his continued flirtation and exited the car.

“Hooyah.” She heard the word from inside the car.

Chapter Ten

‡

All the way back from the store the questions burned on the tip of Zoe’s tongue. She had to ask him. Her heart beat high in her chest and she couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs.

Bowie parked the car in front of the Marks’ house and released his seat belt, but didn’t move to get out of the car. “It isn’t Derrick, is it?” He rested his hands on the steering wheel, then ran his fingers over the rubber casing that covered it.

Zoe eyed him, confused.

“Derrick’s not the one you’ve hooked up with, is he?”

“No. It isn’t Derrick. He’s already got a girl friend. I just met her a few minutes ago.” Zoe gestured toward the house.

The tension in his expression relaxed. “I didn’t have anything to do with Brett’s injury, Zoe.” He leaned back in the bucket seat and rested his hands on his thighs. “Maybe you should ask Derrick about Cutter.”

Zoe studied Bowie’s face. Was he saying he’d witnessed something between Brett and Derrick?

He gripped the steering wheel and turned it. “If anyone knows anything about Cutter, it will be Derrick.”

The rumble of a powerful engine growled and Zoe glanced over her shoulder. A bright red Porsche glided into the slot behind Bowie’s Toyota.

“Jesus! That’s Flash,” he breathed.

Zoe swung out of the bucket seat with a practiced grip on the doorframe. Bowie, his cheeks flushed with excitement, popped out of the car and started circling the Porsche like a shark circling prey.

“What did you do man, rob a bank?” Bowie asked as Flash unfolded his lean frame from the car.

“Naw. I got a really sweet deal and I wiped out my savings. Hey, Zoe.”

“Hi.”

Flash’s blond hair reflected in the car’s bright cherry red exterior as he braced a hand on the front quarter-panel. He looked tan and fit as though he’d been spending a great deal of time out in the sun. And he aimed a sexy smile at her and said, “Want to go for a ride?”

Zoe laughed and shook her head. “There are three hungry children and several adults waiting by the pool to eat. Maybe later.”

Flash seemed a nice guy, they all did, but—How did Hawk stand this constant doubt? She leaned back against the rear of Bowie’s car and watched the two men as they studied the sleek lines of the vehicle and discussed every virtue of the engine.

“You got to show the guys,” Bowie said as he slammed the hood closed.

“Later.” Flash patted the hood. “I’ve worked up an appetite just driving around town. I’m starving.”

“We’ve just gotten back from the store. You can help carry the groceries in,” Bowie said.

Bowie strung the plastic bags of groceries on his arms like oversized Christmas ornaments.

“I can carry some,” Zoe said.

“We’ve got it covered,” Flash said as he stretched to retrieve the last bag from high up in the trunk. A light thump had Zoe leaning forward to see if something had fallen out of a bag. A small cylindrical stone lay in the trunk near one of the rear lights. A stone just like the ones Brett had brought home. Zoe reached for it, but Flash scooped it up with a speed worthy of his call sign.

“That’s my lucky charm. I’d hate to lose it,” he said with a grin. “You can close the trunk and get the door.”

Instead of making a comment about the stone, she slammed the trunk and went ahead of the two men.

As they came into the kitchen, Hawk stood at the counter pouring drinks for the three children clustered around him. A pair of cut offs hugged his legs and a t-shirt hung over his shoulder.

“Looks like you arrived just in time, guys,” he said.

The door slammed behind the three children as they trooped back outside.

Bowie smiled as he lowered the bags to the floor. “What can I say, my timing’s always been perfect. You know that, LT”

Zoe started unloading the bags. Flash placed his on the bar.

“I bought a car, Hawk. A really sweet ride. You’ll have to check it out after we eat,” Flash said.

While the two men talked about the vehicle, Bowie came to stand next to Zoe and lifted one of the bags on the counter. He took out a basket of fresh tomatoes.

“Thanks for making the grocery run with me, Bowie.”

“Any time, Zo.” He rested a hand against her waist and brushed a kiss on her cheek.

Startled by the gesture she looked up at him.

His brown gaze looked down into hers. “Remember what I said in the car.” He ran the back of his fingers against her cheek in a brief caress. “You need any help here?”

Struck speechless, she shook her head.

As he and Flash sauntered out onto the deck, her numbed brain kicked into overdrive. Which bit of advice had Bowie meant? About talking to Derrick?

Or was it that she should be straight forward with Hawk about her interest in him? Was she really ready to leave herself open to hurt again by doing so? Should she keep Bowie in mind if things didn’t work out between them as he’d suggested?

“What was that all about?” Hawk moved to stand next to her.

Surprised he had noticed the exchange, she glanced up at him. “Nothing. Did you really warn all of the men to stay away from me?”

His expression grew guarded. “Not exactly.”

She folded her arms and leaned back against the counter. “Then why don’t you explain to me exactly what you did say.”

His features tightened. “I told them I didn’t think Cutter would appreciate one of his fellow teammates trying to nail his sister. And I told them to keep in mind, if they were thinking about asking you out, that you weren’t the type for a one night stand.”

She shook her head, unable to decide whether to be angry at his interference or touched by his protectiveness. Was he keeping his distance for the same reason, or because he just wasn’t interested?

“My brother doesn’t live my life for me, Hawk. I’ll sleep with whomever I want, when I want.” She pointed a finger at him. “And Brett’s approval or disapproval won’t have a damn thing to do with it when it happens.”

He caught the waving finger, and his lips quirked with amusement. “Understood.” His gray eyes focused on her face and his smile died.

Zoe’s stomach quivered at the sudden intensity of his expression. “I’m not looking for your approval either,” she said. Her voice sounded weak and breathless.

“All right.”

His acquiescence fired her temper and hurt her feelings. She tugged at her finger, breaking his grip. He stepped close and surprised, she tilted her head back to look up at him.

Placing an arm on either side, he hemmed her in against the counter, his body a breath away from hers. Her pulse leaped and she pressed a hand against his chest. The heat of his skin seeped into her palm like liquid fire.

Hawk’s gray eyes narrowed. “I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place here. I promised your mom I’d look out for you.” His throat worked as he swallowed and his voice grew husky. “I don’t think fantasizing about taking her daughter to bed was exactly what she had in mind.”

The knot of tension in the pit of her stomach dissolved as excitement raced through her to settle, tingling and hot, between her legs. Was it possible to have an orgasm just thinking about making love? If he plastered that long, lean, masculine body up against hers, she might just achieve her very first one without his ever having to touch her.

“I’m trying to take things slow here, Zoe.”

She bit back a groan. If he went any slower, she might just dwell on all the reasons she shouldn’t get involved with him, and chicken out all together. Her eyes fastened on the hard, fast beating pulse just beneath the skin of his throat. She rose on tiptoe and pressed an open mouthed kiss there. His skin tasted of chlorine and heat.

He caught his breath, and his hand splayed against the small of her back and pulled her against him. The firm ridge of his arousal pushed against her stomach. When she leaned back to look up at him, he kissed her, the hungry pressure of his lips hot and insistent.

The tempting touch of his tongue against hers intensified the empty ache inside her. Zoe slid one arm around his neck and strained upward to fit herself against his tall frame more fully. She ran the other hand up his back, caressing his smooth, muscled flesh.

He cupped her buttocks guiding her closer, urging her legs apart as he thrust one long thigh between hers. Though she ached with need, she fought the compulsion to rub against the steady pressure of his leg. Hawk had no such reservation. He rocked against her, and Zoe groaned as the movement titillated the over-sensitized area between her thighs driving her closer to the edge.

“Daddy does that to Mommy, sometimes.” The sound of a child’s voice had them both freezing.

Hawk broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his cheeks flushed. He looked toward the door leading out onto the deck. “I bet.” He shifted putting some space between his lower body and hers.

Zoe stifled a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. At least the counter had blocked from view what else had been going on. She turned to look over her shoulder at seven-year-old Tad, the oldest of the Marks children. His red-blond hair, still wet from the pool, stood on end, but there was nothing in his expression that warranted concern.

“Mommy said the burgers were ready when you were.”

Ready? Her face and ears burned with embarrassment.

Hawk’s gaze dropped to hers, amusement in his expression. “Tell your mom, we’ll be right there, Tad.”

The door shut behind the boy.

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Zoe turned her back to Hawk. “I was supposed to be slicing tomatoes and onions for the burgers.” He pressed against her from behind, and her legs went rubbery. The soft warmth of his lips against the back of her neck sent delightful shivers down her spine.

“I’ll slice the tomatoes, while you do the onions.” He gathered three tomatoes in one hand and moved to the sink.

His touch lingered on her skin and she had to concentrate on slowing her breathing. She wrinkled her nose at him. “Let me guess, aside from the smell, you just don’t want me to see you cry.”

“Sweetheart, I almost did when Tad opened that door.”

*

With two plates of food, one for him and the other for Zoe, Hawk settled in one of the deck chairs next to Marjorie Allen, Derrick Armstrong’s girlfriend. Derrick leaned forward to look around the woman at Hawk. “How’s the knee, LT?”

“Healing. The doc’s given me permission to do a little lifting with it. I thought I’d start tomorrow.”

Derrick nodded. “If you need someone to spot you, I’m available in the mornings. I usually start my routine around five.”

Hawk nodded, his gaze wandering to Zoe as she dried off one of the children at the pool. Her leg might benefit from lifting weights, too, but not if Derrick were around to watch her. “I appreciate the offer Strong Man, but I’ll have to take it easy at first. Sometimes having a partner tempts you into competing. I don’t want to overdo it, and then have to start healing all over again.”

Derrick waved a hand. “Understood.”

Zoe limped over to join them, and Hawk rose to move a lawn chair next to his. He watched the quick rise of color in her cheeks as she sat down. God, all that shy, suppressed sexuality was driving him crazy. Especially when every time he looked at her, her eyes were saying everything she was thinking. And everything she was thinking seemed pretty hot. Had Tad not interrupted them, how much further would she have allowed him to go?

Bowie pulled a chair up next to Zoe and sat down.

What had he meant by the cryptic remark he had made to Zoe in the kitchen? He had obviously been trying to get her to go out with him.

Again.

It had taken all Hawk’s control to keep from ripping into him. Until he drew a firm line in the sand, the other guys in the team would continue to put the move on her.

Hawk ran a hand down Zoe’s back, and she looked up at him. He was suddenly aware of how often he had avoided touching her. That was going to stop right now. He tucked a short wisp of hair that curled against her cheek behind her ear. “I forgot to get us some drinks. I’ll be right back.”

When he returned Bowie was leaning close to Zoe, saying something. Hawk placed the drinks on the table and draped a casual arm over her shoulders as he leaned forward to listen to their conversation.

“How’s Cutter doing?” Strongman asked.

Damn the man had no sense of timing at all. He’d hoped Zoe could have one afternoon away from the stress of her brother’s condition. Hawk’s gaze narrowed on him, but Derrick seemed oblivious to the look.

“He’s about the same.”

Derrick nodded. “I was thinking about the time we did our first blast. He was the best at skydiving. He had nerves of steel. I swear he could jump out of a plane a foot off the deck and still have time to pull the rip-cord and float to the ground.”

“He’s going to come back to it,” Zoe said, her features stiff, her gaze locked on Derrick.

Derrick’s cheeks grew red. His eyes took on a flat look as stony as his features. “Yeah, he is.”

Tension blanketed the atmosphere at the table like smoke. Bowie jumped into the lull and began describing his first parachute jump.

“Anyway, my knees are knocking and I’ve got bats in my belly, and I get to the door of the plane. LT’s standing there ready to follow us out once the last man jumps. I’m thinking of everything that can go wrong and going over every moment of my training, hoping I can remember it all if something does. I look out the door, and all I can see is open space, and it looks beautiful. The air is clear and the ground looks like a patchwork quilt. LT motions for me to go, and before I can think of any reason not to, I yell Geronimo and jump.”

Flash leaned forward to speak down the table. “I thought I was at a remake of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. You know the scene where they jump off the cliff. I heard you yelling all the way down, or at least until you deployed your chute. And it didn’t sound anything like Geronimo to me.”

Laughter broke out around the table. Bowie narrowed his eyes at the man, though he laughed good-naturedly at his ribbing. “Those were whoops of excitement, you were hearing, Flash. Besides, I’m surprised you could hear anything above your own whimpering. You weren’t exactly icy.”

A deep flush darkened Flash’s tanned complexion, and for a moment, his features tightened, then he smiled. “Damn straight. Jumping out of a plane three thousand feet in the air still isn’t one of my favorite things to do. Give me a tank of air and drop my ass in the ocean, and I’m ready.”

“Hooyah.” The word traveled around the table.

Bowie turned back to Zoe. “On the way down, it was great. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. You could see for miles and there was just this high, excitement high, as you deployed your chute and glided down.”

“I think I’d like to try it one day.” Zoe took a bite of potato salad.

Surprised by the conviction in her tone, Hawk studied her expression.

Bowie’s gaze moved from Hawk’s hand resting on her shoulder to his face. “LT would be the one to take you up. He’s probably got more jumps under his belt than the rest of us put together.”

Zoe’s attention swung to him.

His insides clenched at the idea of her jumping out of a plane. He had experienced some harrowing moments in the past, not that he’d ever share them with her. “I jump out of planes because it’s part of my job, Zoe. I’ve never thought of doing it for pleasure.”

“It’s really expensive unless you’re part of a sky diving group,” Marjorie said. “One of the girls I work with is a member of a club. She and her boyfriend do it on the weekends. They spend every dime they can get their hands on to pay for it. Hang gliding might be an option though. You can rent the gliders while you train, and find out if you like it well enough to buy your own.”

“Or what about parasailing?” Trish said. “You can do that any time and it’s only about eighty dollars.”

Hawk jumped at the idea. “What do you say, Zoe? We could do that this weekend.”

Her expression grew shuttered, and she bit her bottom lip.

The muscles at the back of his neck tightened. He could almost read what was going through her head. She’d have to wear a swimsuit, and he’d be able to see her leg. How would they ever make love if she was afraid of his reaction to the injury? He didn’t give a damn what it looked like. Her leg only made up a small part of who she was. Come on, trust me, Zoe. He wanted to say the words out loud.

“I’d love to do it.”

The wistfulness in her tone gave him hope. “You haven’t taken in any of the sights or gone to the beach. We can make a day of it.”

“I can’t leave Brett all day.”

“Half a day, then.”

She smiled.

Yes! He had her now.

“All right. Half a day.”

She’d have five whole days to think about it. Five days to change her mind. Five days to worry about her leg and his reaction to it. Damn! He had to get Zoe out of her pants.

*

From her perch atop the picnic table on the deck, Zoe observed Derrick Armstrong as, resting a hand against Marjorie’s waist; he guided her to his car. For most of the evening following her comment at dinner, he’d remained sullen and silent. She should have left it alone and not said anything. But the men were giving up on Brett. Derrick had already done so. She could tell by the way he always referred to him in the past tense.

Bowie, Flash, and Doc were better about it, but the way their eyes met whenever Brett’s name came up in conversation—They didn’t believe he’d come out of the coma.

Did Hawk feel the same?

She’d never ask him. She couldn’t. She was holding onto her own positive outlook by her fingernails. She couldn’t allow anyone’s negativity to tear chunks out of her hope.

She turned her gaze back to the friendly backyard volleyball game. Flash served the volleyball and Langley went up for a return as it spun toward him.

Hawk’s hand brushing downward over her back to her waist snapped her attention to him. His muscular thigh pressed along hers making her think about how he had thrust it between her legs and encouraged her to rock against it.

He’d touched her more during dinner than he had the entire time she’d been staying at his house. With every stroke of his palm he primed her hunger for more and her anxiety.

“Ready to go home?” Hawk asked.

Twenty minutes later, Zoe’s nerves kicked in with a vengeance as they reached the midway point to Hawk’s house. She cast surreptitious glances at him from beneath her lashes and tried to calm her uncontrollable heartbeat and unsteady breathing. What had she said to him about making love? Oh yeah—she’d do it when she wanted to. But he would too. She wanted it—wanted it so-o-o-o bad, but she was scared too. If he saw her leg, her scars—

Hawk’s hand closed around hers. “Relax, Zoe.”

She swallowed though her mouth was dust dry. She clung to his hand with both of hers and wished the bucket seats would allow her to slide closer.

“We don’t have to rush anything,” Hawk said.

He had been so patient, had taken things so slowly thus far—“It isn’t that,” she said, her tone weak.

“What is it then?”

“Have you ever wanted something you—” her voice dwindled away. If she said she was scared to death he’d misunderstand.

“That last step is hard. I know. I wanted to be a SEAL before I signed the scholarship papers for college. But once I graduated, knowing what a commitment it was—it was hard to take that last step.” He glanced at her. “I’m ready when you decide you are. But we don’t have to be in a rush. Part of the excitement of being a couple is learning about each other.”

Her throat tightened. Why had she ever been afraid? “I wanted to be a dancer before the accident. I was taking tap and ballet and had fallen in love with it. I had movies of Baryshnikov, Natalia Makarova, and several others. Daddy had put up a bar and mirror for me in the garage.” She smiled at the bittersweet memory. He had danced with her. He’d be Fred Astaire and she’d be Ginger Rodgers. At the time, she hadn’t known who they were, but the fact that he had tried to share a little of her dream—

Hawk’s fingers tightened around hers and she looked up. His features had gone completely still with control.

“It’s all right. It was just a little girl’s dream. The chances that I’d have been good enough to dance with a ballet troop were slim. I love my job. I love seeing someone walk when they don’t believed they ever will. I help people rebuild a part of the life they’ve lost. I think that’s more important than being on stage.”

“Hooyah!”

That one word said it all.

Her nerves had receded completely when they pulled into the driveway at the house. Hawk held her hand as they went up the front steps. He released it to unlock the front door. He held it open and motioned for her to enter first. Just over the threshold her shoe snagged something and she stumbled. A loud whomp filled the enclosed space with a force that pounded her eardrums. At the same time, a flash of intense light seared her retina. Startled, she cried out. Hawk shoved her down and his large body covered hers driving the air from her lungs. The acrid smell of smoke filled the first breath she drew.

“Stay down,” he ordered, his tone harsh with command. He jumped up, his movements cautious and quick, and disappeared down the dark hall.

Zoe raised her head to look between the couch and chair and scan the room. White spots filled her vision but cleared quickly. A small blaze flickered in the center of the area rug in the living room. With every second that passed it grew brighter. She staggered to her feet and looked about for something with which to smother the flames. She jerked free one of the window curtains, threw it over the fire, and stomped on it. Puffs of smoke rose from beneath the fabric. The heat of the blaze penetrated her thin shoes.

Hawk appeared from the back of the house, a gun in one hand a fire extinguisher in the other. “The house is clear.” He tucked the gun in the back waistband of his shorts, flipped the curtain aside, and sprayed it with the foam. His expression appeared calm but the quick way his gaze scanned the room, watchful and keen, gave her an idea of how he might behave in battle.

“What was this?” she asked.

“A stun grenade. We call them flash bangs. This one’s been modified otherwise all my windows would have been blown out.” He pushed aside the scorched fabric of the curtain baring a two foot wide burn in the center of the rug that went all the way to the hard wood floor beneath. He bent to run his hand under a thin wire and followed it to the door. “This is a trip wire. It was set up to go off as soon as someone hit it.”

Zoe sucked in a harsh breath. “Why would anyone do this?”

He remained silent a moment. He pointed to a watercolor seascape over the couch. The black words printed on the glass stood out against the muted background like slashes. It read ‘leave it alone’. The words sent prickles of shock and fear along her skin. She began to tremble.

The sound of police sirens screamed from down the street. Hawk removed the gun from his waistband and, pulling open a drawer of the table by the door, placed it inside. He reached up and swung the picture down to lay it behind a chair.

“We have to convince the San Diego police this was a prank, Zoe. There are too many things I can’t tell them. I think they’ll want to call in NCIS if they discover this involved real explosives.”

“Then let them. Maybe we’ll finally discover what’s going on.” The idea brought a wave of relief so strong it eased some of her trembling.

“And what if it’s something Brett’s gotten tangled up in?”

Zoe studied his expression for a long moment. Was he really willing to overlook having his house set on fire? What if whoever it was escalated to blowing the place up? Was his loyalty to his Naval family so strong? God, did she even need to ask that? “Why are you protecting them?”’

“Because we need to keep this in the family, and deal with it in house. For all we know, I’m protecting your brother, too.”

She caught her breath as anger flashed through her. Brett wouldn’t be involved in anything illegal. She was certain of it. “What do you think he could have seen or done to cause this?”

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

He was blocking her out again. First with his refusal to discuss his meeting at the shooting range, and now with this. Resentment burned through her patience. “We, Hawk. We, not I. If my brother’s involved, so am I.”

A police cruiser screeched to a halt outside. Out of the corner of Zoe’s eye, she caught the flash of the lights atop the vehicle. She ignored it. “If I’m going to lie to protect them, you’re letting me in. Or I’m going to tell the police everything and let the fur fly.”

His features tightened and his gray eyes went flat with anger. “I don’t respond well to threats.”

“And I don’t respond well to being shut out when it affects someone I love.” Was she talking about Brett or him? God, she was wading through emotional quicksand and was sinking fast.

Footsteps sounded on the porch and a harsh rap came at the door. “All right,” Hawk said, his tone grudging, sharp. “We’ll talk later.”

“Good. And by the way, Bowie says we need to talk to Derrick.”

As he worked that out, she jerked open the door and prepared to lie.

Chapter Eleven

‡

Hawk stretched on the bed and stifled a yawn. He glanced at the clock. It read O eight hundred. Water running somewhere in the house sounded like distant rain. Obviously, Zoe was already up.

His jaw tightened as the scene the night before played through his head. It had taken an hour to convince the two patrolmen that it had been a prank and not something more lethal. The experience had left him with an itchy feeling of guilt he hadn’t done a damn thing to earn. The raw edgy mood of the night before came roaring back with a vengeance. Zoe’d had the same look the night before.

God damn it. Why did she have to be so insistent on knowing everything? She didn’t understand that he owed his loyalty to his men. And did she want to understand the military point of view as to information about those men? No. Stubborn—

He drew a deep breath. The smell of smoke lingering throughout the house sent a spike of anger racing through him again. When he found out who was responsible for this, he was going to rip his head off and stuff it down his fucking throat. That it was one of his own men seemed impossible. A growl, part frustration, part anger tore loose.

He shifted his knee back onto the pillow and grimaced. The joint continued to be sore, despite his careful adherence to the therapist’s orders. His experience with this minor injury was nothing compared to Zoe’s long-term struggle. God, she was tough.

Last night, her limp had grown more pronounced. She needed to wear her brace more. She’d do well with a cane, but she’d never agree to use one. Would she still be as mobile in five years? Ten? Would she one day be in a wheel chair? Probably. His stomach clenched and he veered away from thinking about it.

As he listened to the shower running, an urge raced through him to go down the hall and join her. That would rip aside this wall of anger and distrust that had suddenly thrust up between them. He would soap his hands and slowly run them over every inch of her skin. And end the anxious dance they were doing. She would offer him the comfort—

God, what was he thinking? It would probably send her into a self-conscious panic, before he ever got that far. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair.

She had to lower the barriers when she was ready. If he pressured her too much, she might push him away. But damn, it was hard to wait. He’d never had to work this hard to earn a woman’s trust.

Did the challenge she presented have anything to do with the strength of his attraction, or was it just, Zoe? If they did hook up, would his feelings change? Would his desire plane out like it usually did?

The shower stopped. She’d go back to Kentucky eventually. The thought, like a warning, nipped at his half-aroused state with the coldness of reason. Zoe was attached to her family, really attached. The chances she’d stay out here ran from, not very likely to no F-ing way.

She had a life in Kentucky, a profession she was licensed to practice there. So why was he getting involved with her? There were other women with a hell-of-a lot less baggage, who would stick around. Why was he putting so much effort into wooing her?

Because he’d been hot for her since the first time he’d seen her.

But then what?

Was a short-term affair what she was looking for? A little experience under her belt? A little experience—Zoe was a virgin, he’d bet his SEAL insignia on it. And he’d be her first. The term virgin territory took on a whole new meaning as he allowed the implications to sink in.

“Jesus.” He sat up, his heart pounding as though he’d done a five-K run full out. Zoe wouldn’t give herself lightly. He was already finding that out—first hand. He was suddenly hot and hard as a cruise missile. He groaned aloud at how his own thoughts ran to cheesy puns that did nothing to relieve the pressure. But she’d still leave and he’d have to deal with it, if he got in too deep.

A loud thump sounded from somewhere down the hall and the water glass on his nightstand shook. He shoved off the bed to his feet, her name on his lips.

“Zoe?” he yelled louder, two long strides taking him out into the hall.

Her silence had him swearing as he broke into a trot, his knee protested. Her room was empty, and he passed on to the bathroom door. Resting his hands on the door facing, he called through it, “You okay, Zoe?”

“I’m okay. I just have a Charlie horse.” Her tone sounded strained. “Just give me a minute.”

A soft groan pumped his already galloping heartbeat up a notch. “I’m coming in,” he warned as he turned the knob. She was sitting in the floor clothed in lightweight pants. He caught a glimpse of lush, well-shaped breasts before she grabbed the towel from around her hair and covered herself.

Ignoring the immediate punch to his arousal, he knelt on the ceramic tile at her feet.

Her features were set in a pained grimace as she kneaded the muscle. “God, I hate these things.”

He brushed aside her fingers and began to rub and massage the knotted muscle vigorously. At first hard as a baseball, it suddenly began to relax and give beneath his fingers.

Zoe bit her bottom lip and clenched her eyes shut. When her lids finally lifted and she looked at him, he relaxed a little. “Better?”

She nodded. “Yes. Much.” She focused on his face, her expression serious. “This is kind of a thing with me.” Her tone sounded weary.

“You mean after being on your feet a lot?” He shifted the movements of his fingers from rough to soothing and rubbed the pant leg up to her knee. Pinkish-white scars crisscrossed her calf like cracks in a hardboiled egg. Of course, both legs would have been injured in the accident. How much worse was the other one? He knew part of the calf muscle was missing.

“Yes.” Her gaze traveled from the leg he was caressing to his face. And for a moment, her blue eyes probed his expression.

“I get them, too, after too much exertion.” When she remained silent he asked, “Need a ride to your room or do you want to try and get up?”

She bit her lip. “I can get up on my own.”

Knowing she was now out of pain, he allowed his eyes to skim over the curve of her breasts visible above the towel. She looked so delicate. He ran his fingertips along her shoulder, his thumb tracing the fragile length of her collarbone. His hand looked dark against her fair skin. Feelings of protectiveness, tenderness, and desire crashed together inside him, making his voice husky. “I’ll help you up, just in case another one hits.” Rising from his kneeling position, he offered her a hand.

Once on her feet, Zoe rested a hand against his chest and the heat of her touch penetrated his t-shirt as though it weren’t there. When she tucked herself against him, he slipped an arm around her waist while he ran his hand down her back to the top of the low-slung pants. Her hair, still damp, smelled like vanilla. He curved a hand along her hip turning her into him, letting her feel his reaction to her. His heart took up the rapid tattoo of machine gun fire when she drew a deep breath and released it, her breasts pushing against his ribs.

“Sometimes, the way you look at me—,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.

He knew what she meant. He’d caught a few of her unguarded looks that had grabbed him right by the libido, and left him breathless and aching.

“I’d like to do more than just look.” He bent his head, and kissed her shoulder, his lips parted so he could taste the heat of her skin. She shivered in response and her hand curved around his neck, her fingers messaging his nape.

“Come to bed with me, Zoe. We’ll neck, and touch each other, and make each other feel good.”

She drew another breath and pressed closer to him. “God, I want to.”

Her Kentucky accent, thickened with emotion, had him smiling.

“But?”

“It’s daylight.”

“So?”

“Hawk—You just saw some of my scars.”

“Yeah, so?”

“The rest are worse. I had to have skin grafts to cover some of the really bad injuries. They had to take skin from other parts of my body to do it.” She looked away. “I look like Frankenstein from the waist down.”

“A few scars aren’t going to make a difference to me, Zoe.”

“I’ve heard that before. And it did.”

Following some of his earlier thoughts, the idea of her being with some other guy hit him with the kick of a grenade launcher. He grasped her arm. “Who was this fool?”

Her eyes widened in shock.

He forced himself to release her and take a step back. “Sorry—I just-.” Just went warrior at the thought of her giving herself to some other guy. Man he was getting in deeper and deeper. He needed to pull back.

Hadn’t Clara said something about her suddenly growing more self-conscious about her leg in college? A surge of anger had heat rising in his face. That damn creep. “He was a fool, Zoe. A damn fool.”

Her smile started out a small twitch of her lips and spread into a full-fledged grin. “Thanks.” She rose on tiptoe to brush her lips against his cheek. “He was.”

She turned her bare back to him, and reaching for the t-shirt draped over the towel bar, shimmied into it.

Hawk nearly groaned aloud.

When she faced him, her expression had grown serious. “We need to talk about last night.” She hung the damp towel over the edge of the tub and took up her brush.

Hawk drew a deep breath. “Yeah we do.”

She ran the wide spaced bristles through the heavy mass of hair she drew over one shoulder.

“I’m sorry you had to be grilled by the police.”

Zoe shook her head. “I’m more concerned that someone we know actually set off an explosive device in your house. It just started a fire this time. They could blow the whole thing up next time.”

“There isn’t going to be a next time, Zoe.”

“You don’t know that.” She laid the brush on the edge of the sink and drew a deep breath. “I’ve been up half the night thinking about this. You have to turn this thing over to NCIS.”

“I can’t do that before reporting what’s happened to my CO.”

She remained silent, but her jaw tightened. “Where do you think Flash got the money for the car?”

“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers over his hair. “Some of the guys work security jobs in their spare time. I know Flash has done that in the past for extra money.”

“I know about military pay. And with the cost of living out here—” Zoe shook her head. “To buy a sixty thousand dollar car—it just takes my breath away to think about it.”

“When you’re young and single and the only one you have to support is you, you can afford to do something extravagant—I guess.”

“You’re young and single and I don’t see you doing stuff like that. You’ve poured every dime into this house, I’m sure.”

“My mom left me the house and she had insurance that paid the mortgage off when she died. So, I guess I’m more financially secure than most of the team. Hell, most of the platoon.”

“So why haven’t you been snapped up by some woman hungry for security and your killer body?”

Her casual tone sounded forced as though she was uncomfortable asking the question.

“It’s the hazards of the job, Zoe. It takes a special woman to stick around for the long haul once they get a taste of what it’s like to be alone for twelve or fourteen months out of a two-year span. And there’s the fact that I wouldn’t be there for someone if they got sick while I was out of the country, or had an emergency. I can’t offer the emotional security a guy with a nine-to-five job can.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right kind of woman then. I don’t expect my family to be there for me constantly. I take care of myself. But I know I could depend on them if something came up.” she said, her voice soft, her features averted.

Was she saying she was the right kind of woman? Could she live with the separations, the worry that he might not come back every time he went wheels up? The secrecy. She wasn’t doing so well with his refusal to call NCIS. How was she going to do when he refused to tell her anything about their deployments? The speculation had his emotional radar jangling with alarm.

“What will your commander do about what happened last night?”

Probably ride his back like a forty-pound pack. “I don’t know.”

A phone rang and Hawk turned and left the bathroom. Zoe followed.

“I have to go out,” he said as he laid the receiver in its cradle.

“Yes.” Her brows rose in question, her expression expectant.

“I can’t tell you where I’m going,” he said. “You can take the car and go on to the hospital and I’ll meet you there later.”

Her eyes searched his face then dropped away. The disappointment in her expression snagged his conscience and made him uncomfortable.

By way of an apology, he felt compelled to say, “I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can.”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I can handle whatever comes up at the hospital by myself. Take your time.”

For the first time, he understood what the married members of the team went through. She viewed his not sharing as a lack of trust. He withheld information, not because he didn’t trust her, but because if she didn’t know about what he and Lang were up to, she couldn’t be compelled to testify against them.

Damn this relationship stuff was hard.

*

“If your brother doesn’t wake up within the next two weeks, we may have to think about transferring him to the long-term care facility for extra services, Ms. Weaver.”

Dr. Connelly’s words hit Zoe with the force of a wrecking ball. For a moment, her legs threatened to give way. She gripped the end of the bed in an attempt to retain her balance.

“You’re giving up on him,” her tone sounded hollow.

“No. But we do need the bed on this floor for more critical patients. Had there been a bed available we would have already transferred him to the brain injury care facility, where he could get more intensive services than we can provide here.”

Anger pushed through the shock she attempted to absorb. “Those facilities are just warehouses, Dr. Connelly, and you know it.”

The doctor’s eyes focused on her face. “Not here, Zoe. We have a state of the art facility. They’ll provide him with more of the physical therapy you’ve been doing with him yourself, as well as other services.” He paused, then looked down at Brett’s chart. “There are some medications I want to try on your brother to stimulate him, and see if we can wake him up. Some do have a few side effects, but for the most part the benefits would out-weigh the risks.”

She studied the doctor’s face searching for any kind of hope to hang onto, but his expression remained neutral. “When will you try them?”

“I’ll get the paperwork started as soon as rounds end.” He paused. “This is not like a TV movie. We’ll begin with one medication, and may have to try several before one works.”

“All right.” As the sudden rush of adrenaline eased off, she began to tremble. She folded her arms against her waist to hide her reaction.

Connelly laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I have to warn you about all the possibilities, Zoe. To drop it on you later would be like dropping a bomb on you. You’ve thought about what it would be like—should things not progress as we’d like.”

Despair threatened to smother her hope. “Brett is going to wake up.” When the words came out flat and without her normal positive exuberance, she cleared her throat and said it again with more conviction. “Brett is going to wake up.”

Connelly nodded his gray head briefly. “A nurse will be in to administer the first round of medication within the hour.”

As he and the nurse left, a wave of dizziness tackled Zoe and she had to brace her hands on her knees. Brett had to wake up. This had to work. She wouldn’t be able to bear it otherwise.

*

“I appreciate your giving me a ride to the base, Greenback,” Hawk said as they stopped at a red light in traffic.

“No problem, LT. I’ve been meaning to come by and hang out but I’ve been doing some bonding with my daughter. I missed her birth, and I’m trying to catch up.”

“How’s that going?” Hawk asked as he studied the man. Oliver Shaker, “Greenback”, maintained a solid reputation for being a squared away soldier. Though slighter built than most SEALs at five foot eight inches tall and a hundred and forty-five pounds, Hawk had seen the man lift an unconscious guy nearly half again his weight. With his dark hair and eyes, there had to be some Italian ancestry in his background and his Godfatherish New Jersey accent fit that image.

Greenback smiled. “Shelby’s a doll. She’s six months old and every time she sees me she smiles and laughs.”

How was it a hardened warrior could look so sappy? An answering smile curved Hawk’s lips.

Greenback ducked his head. “I know—I know.” He waved a hand dismissively.

“It’s great, man. Katie Beth, Zoe’s niece, took up with me while she was here. She’s a real sweetheart. I can see how you could learn to love one of your own real quick.”

“I was going to re-up when my enlistment was over, but I’m giving serious thought to going back to school and finishing my degree so I can move on to something else. I mean, if something happened to me, Shelby would never know me.”

Hawk nodded. It happened sometimes. A guy got married, his wife had a baby, and suddenly he started worrying about the people he’d leave behind if something happened to him, and he lost his edge. Dwelling too much on home and family could be a distraction. One that could get him killed.

“You think that’s a mistake?” he asked.

Hawk shook his head. “No. I think you have to do what’s right for you and your family. It’s an easier decision when you have no ties and less—” he bit back the word baggage, “familial responsibilities.” And what did that slip say about him? He frowned.

He dragged his attention back to Greenback. “I’ve asked all the guys to write down anything unusual they noticed about Cutter before we went on the mission. Can you think of anything that happened or was said that struck you as out of the ordinary?”

Greenback remained silent for several minutes. “I mind my own business, Hawk. And I don’t repeat stuff that I hear.”

He knew something. Hawk’s heart drummed in his ears for a moment as his blood pressure shot up. He remained silent giving him time.

“Brett saved my bacon twice during the last few missions. I owe him.” Greenback shifted behind the wheel as though uncomfortable. “I know as a breed, we’re looked at as professionals, sure, but kind of wild-ass cowboys, too. You know Brett’s pretty squared away. I mean he likes to have fun, just like the rest of us, and he’s not above a prank or two, but he keeps his personal and professional life clean.” Greenback took his eyes off the road to glance at Hawk. “Whatever’s going on, I don’t see Brett being involved. I think he’s just collateral damage.”

Hawk nodded. “That said—”

“Derrick has had a couple of assault charges dropped in the last year. And Flash gambles quite a bit. I heard Brett trying to offer them both advice at different times just before the mission. Well, actually he was on Flash’s ass hot and heavy about something.”

“You don’t know what it was about?”

Greenback shook his head. “They shut down when I got close, but the tension was pretty thick.”

Hawk narrowed his eyes against the sudden glare as they turned into the sun. He reached into his pocket for his sunglasses and shoved them on.

“I know there’s something going down—”

Hawk drew a deep breath. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it. There’s no way you could have taken out two tangos, snuck into the house, knocked Cutter unconscious, gotten out, and gotten back to your position in time. We’re talking minutes here. It had to be someone there.”

“Fuck—”

He couldn’t agree more. But the information didn’t clear any of them, just gave him more to look at. “I appreciate you hanging yourself out there.”

Greenback shrugged. “Brett deserves better than he got.”

“Yeah, he does.”

*

Time seemed to pass at a turtle’s pace. With every glance at the clock, anxiety pulled at Zoe’s muscles like weights, tightening her shoulders and neck. As her anxiety rose, so did her anger. Damn the man responsible for Brett’s injuries. She wished every vile thing she could think of on him while stifling the urge to scream.

She paced the floor more out of a need to burn off some of her emotion than an inherent restlessness.

Hawk arrived bringing with him the scent of the ocean. Just seeing him brought every defense she had crashing down. Her fear for her brother spurred her toward him, and she pressed close.

“What is it?” he asked, his arms tight around her. It was a moment before she could trust her composure and explain what Dr. Connelly was going to try.

His features grew taut and his black brows fisted. “How dangerous is this?”

“Connelly said he believed the benefits outweighed the risks. There could be a few side effects, but that’s all. Brett doesn’t have much to lose at this point, Hawk.”

His jaw tightened. “I suppose not.”

She started to tell him the rest, but held back. If she repeated Dr. Connelly’s words, it would give them credence. If she gave them credence, she’d begin to accept them. She wasn’t ready to do that yet, not as long as there were other things they could try. Not while there was still hope Brett would wake up.

She moved to her brother’s side. They had removed the bandages from his head and pale bristle-like fuzz was beginning to cover his scalp. The liquid nutrition, fed into a tube through his nose and down the back of his throat, was keeping him from losing weight, but his muscle tone was growing less pronounced. They had begun to turn him more often to make certain he didn’t develop bedsores. She wanted to grab him and shake him. Her throat ached with her desire to scream at him to wake up.

Hawk’s hands rested on her shoulders from behind offering comfort. The gesture brought her emotions close to the surface, and her eyes stung with tears. She wouldn’t give into them. To give into them was like giving up.

“It’s going to be all right, Zo.”

She nodded. She folded her arms and leaned back against him, drawing strength from his closeness.

He slipped an arm around her waist. When Angela came in, he continued to hold Zoe. The nurse piggybacked a new IV onto the one Brett already had in his arm, and hung the bag of medication on the IV pole.

Hope, excitement, and fear crashed together inside Zoe making it difficult for her to breathe. She squeezed Hawk’s arm. “How quickly will it work, if it’s going to?” she asked, her voice sounding husky as it worked around the knot of emotion in her throat.

The nurse looked up as she adjusted the tubing. “It could be minutes, or a few hours, or even days. It just depends on him.”

Zoe nodded, her eyes going to Brett’s face.

Angela gave her arm an encouraging pat as she brushed by. “Call me if there’s any change.”

Zoe gave her a brief nod.

“If Cutter opens his eyes and sees me holding you like this, he’s likely to climb out of bed and kick my butt,” Hawk said as the door closed behind Angela.

It took real work, but she managed a smile as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Don’t take this wrong, but I hope he tries.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze and released her. “Try and relax, Zoe. Like Angela said, it may take a while.”

She sat down beside Brett’s bed and picked up a book she had been attempting to read but didn’t open it.

Hawk settled in the other chair and turned the TV onto a sports channel, but he looked at her instead of the screen.

Brett took a deep breath and turned on his side. The book landed with a dull thud as Zoe leaped to her feet.

Chapter Twelve

‡

Shit—shit—shit. The word kept going through Hawk’s head as he drove through the busy streets toward home. He flexed his shoulders to try and ease some of the tension settling right between his shoulder blades. Watching Brett’s every movement had kept them both on red-alert. Having to leave the hospital, with him still comatose, had been a crushing disappointment.

Watching Zoe had been nearly as painful as watching Brett. With every passing hour, her hope had slowly dimmed. She had grown quieter and shut herself off from him. He had never seen her so low.

“I think I’ll go lie down for a few minutes,” she said, as they entered the house.

He nodded. He needed a stiff drink to drown his disappointment, and a good workout to burn off his frustration.

“In case you need me, I’m going downstairs to work out,” he said.

Laying a hand on his arm momentarily, she limped down the hall toward her room, but stopped midway to turn and look over her shoulder at him. “I appreciate your staying with me today.”

He shrugged. “Where else would I be?”

She looked away.

He stifled the urge to go to her, something in her posture keeping him at a distance. “The doctor said they might have to try several meds, remember that.”

She nodded, her eyes downcast.

“He’s a SEAL, Zoe. Uncle Sam doesn’t want all those hours of training, and the money it cost, to be wasted. They’ll try everything to get Cutter back on his feet.”

She started to say something, stopped, and nodding again, continued on to her room.

Hawk rubbed a hand over his face. He needed to hit the weights and work off the emotional overload. He went to his room, changed into shorts, and went downstairs to the unfinished room beneath the back porch. Bare sheetrock covered two walls, the other two sported wooden two by fours and insulation.

He needed to finish this job and doing something creative might be more beneficial than lifting weights. He closed the door, so as not to disturb Zoe. Positioning wood blocks along the bottom of the wall, he lifted a four by eight sheetrock panel onto the supports. Using a drill, he sank the screws to hold the board in place. He had just moved on to the next sheet when Zoe came down the stairs. She had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and was wearing her brace.

“I thought you were going to lie down.”

“I couldn’t. We’ve sat too long at the hospital and the inactivity is killing me. You can’t do this by yourself. Well, obviously you can, but I’d like to help.”

He nodded. “Grab the end of this board and hold it steady while I sink the screws.”

As Zoe worked beside him, he debated how much to tell her. Because of his job, so much of his life had to remain secret. Had that behavior grown to be such a part of him that he didn’t know how to share even the things he could? Was that why Veronica had walked away?

Within an hour they had covered the lower half of two walls. “The upper half can wait until one of the guys comes over.”

“If you have the sheetrock mud and tape, we can start applying it to the walls you have finished.”

Surprised, his brows rose. “I didn’t know you’d worked construction.”

“Every woman needs to know how to do basic repairs. Not all of us have a man around the house, and now-a-days, not all men go in for projects like this, even if they’re around.”

After her earlier depression, he was relieved to see her smile. He lifted a ten-pound bucket of joint compound onto the center of the tarp they stood on, and opened it. “I had to learn. There aren’t many contractors around here interested in doing small jobs.” He looked around for a piece of molding with which to stir it. “Besides, I like the feeling of accomplishment I get when I’ve completed something and it’s just the way I want it.” He mixed the compound with a discarded strip of wood.

Zoe gathered two paint trays and two trowels. “You’ve done a beautiful job upstairs. I especially like the back porch.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “I’ve noticed.” He drew a deep breath. “Today when I left—I checked out some things. Flash paid for the car with money he won in Vegas. Brett, Bowie, and Doc came up clean. And Derrick’s finances are clean, but I found out something else I want to check out more thoroughly before I share it.”

Zoe straightened from her bent position. Her smile, soft and warm, shot straight to his groin. “I’m not going to ask how you found out about this,” she said. “Thanks for trusting me.”

The curve of her lips drew his attention. The only thing he could think about was getting her as close as possible. He reached for her and guided her against him. He brushed away a streak of sheetrock dust from her cheek. “How about we finish this another time? We can order something to eat and climb in the hot tub.”

Her smile faltered and she focused on his chest. She bit her bottom lip. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded weak as though she couldn’t get her breath, “All right.”

Hooyah!

His heartbeat leaped into a faster rhythm. He knew he was grinning like a fool. It seemed it was a night for letting down barriers.

The doorbell rang upstairs. He bit back an oath and glanced at his watch. “Maybe we can scare off whoever that is with the threat of work.” He brushed her lips with a soft kiss.

*

While she waited for Hawk to return, Zoe spread a thin layer of compound along the seam where two boards of sheetrock met and applied the tape. Lord, don’t let me regret agreeing to get in the hot tub with him. Don’t let him regret it either. If he freaked out once he saw her leg, at least it wouldn’t be in a public place in front of a beach full of people.

But Hawk wouldn’t freak out. He had too much control for that. If he went all stiff with control, she’d just back away before they got any more involved. They shouldn’t anyway. She knew they shouldn’t. As soon as the doctors declared him fit he’d be shipping out again. She pressed a hand to her stomach where a hollow feeling settled.

“Strong Man and Marjorie have come by and brought Chinese,” Hawk said from the stairs. His expression appeared subdued. “He’s offered to help me hang the rest of the sheetrock as soon as we eat.”

She sighed. Just when she was building her nerve up and Derrick Armstrong shows up. Something about the man rubbed her the wrong way. “I’ll put the lid on the compound can.”

As she entered the kitchen, Zoe heard him ask Hawk, “So, are you guys still planning on the parasailing thing?” He spooned rice onto a plate.

“Yes, we are,” Hawk said.

“You’ll love it, Zoe,” Marjorie said as she offered her a container of Cashew Chicken.

“I think I will, too.”

Derrick took a bite from his plate. “I hope they don’t make some excuse that prevents you from going up because of your leg.”

Resentment flared through Zoe, and she took a deep breath before she spoke. “My leg shouldn’t be an issue. I won’t need it to fly. I’m more at ease in the water than I am on land, so if I hit the water, I’ll be just fine.”

“I already discussed things with the guy in charge,” Hawk said, his tone quiet and resolute. “There won’t be any problem.”

She glanced in his direction and caught his quick smile. If Hawk got any more thoughtful and understanding, she was lost. Her attention returned to Derrick. Was she more resentful of the comment because he had posed it? Or because she was suspicious of his involvement in Brett’s accident?

Derrick shrugged. “Sounds as though you have everything covered. I just thought it would be a really big disappointment if you got there, and they wouldn’t let you go up.”

She forced a smile. “Thanks. I appreciate your concern.”

The doorbell rang. Zoe motioned to Hawk to stay where he was. “I’ll get it this time.”

Zack O’Connor, Doc, stood on the porch. For a moment, she stared at him, feelings of suspicion and betrayal ricocheting through her. Had he been the one who had hurt Brett?

“Hey, I just thought I’d swing by a minute and see how you guys are doing.”

His slow smile seemed so open. “Come in, Doc. Derrick and Marjorie are here. Everyone’s in the kitchen.” She shut the door behind him and led him toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten? There’s Chinese takeout.”

“I’m good. I’ve already eaten. I wouldn’t mind a beer though.”

“I think Hawk has some in the fridge.”

“Hey, Doc,” Derrick greeted him, “You arrived just in time. As soon as we eat we’re going to help Hawk finish the walls in his rec room.”

“That’s cool. I haven’t done anything more strenuous than lift my toothbrush for days. Had a bug that laid me low.”

Zoe studied him as she handed him his beer. He did look a little pale and worn down. “We wondered where you were,” Zoe said, handing him a beer. “Maybe you should just supervise with the construction, since you’ve been sick.”

“Naw, I’m back in the game now.” He smiled at Zoe. “So you’ve been talking and wondering about me, huh.” He ran a brief caress down her back.

Zoe fought the urge to roll her eyes at his flirting. “You were missed by everyone at the Marks’ barbeque two nights ago.”

“Zoe’s being nice. I didn’t miss your sorry ass at all,” Derrick said with a grin.

Doc narrowed his eyes. “I’ll remember that the next time I treat your sorry ass for jungle rot, out in the field. That next penicillin shot might be water.”

Their good-natured banter continued throughout the meal. After cleaning up, the entire group moved downstairs. The three men merged into a team, as they started hanging the remaining pieces of sheetrock.

“They’re something, aren’t they?” Marjorie said from beside her as she held the paint tray for her. “All my girlfriends are crazy with envy that I’m dating Derrick, his being a SEAL and all. But they don’t know the half of it. They have these kinds of reckless, wild man images, but they like—pull together when they’re in a group, like family. Sometimes I’m even jealous of the time he spends with the guys because there’s times, when we’re together, I feel he’s closer to these guys than he is to me. I mean how close would you have to be to lay down your life for someone?”

“They have to go into battle with one another, Marjorie. Their survival depends on their being able to work together. I suppose they have to know one another so well, they can communicate without words.”

Marjorie shifted the tray full of sheet rock mud. “It really does something to them. Every time they ship out, Derrick comes back kind of aggressive and jumpy, like his skin doesn’t fit him anymore. It takes him about a month to get back to normal, and then I’m still walking around on egg shells with him for a while.”

She peeled her attention away from the men to look at Zoe, her expression serious. “He’s been totally freaked about Cutter. They’ve been buddies since BUD/S, and he just can’t deal. That’s why he doesn’t come to the hospital. He’d like to call and ask you about him every once in awhile, but the whole scene that went down when he showed up at the hospital that first time has made him believe you wouldn’t welcome him calling.”

Strong Man hadn’t thus far struck her as the sensitive soul Marjorie painted him, but Zoe hadn’t been around him enough to judge. She’d welcome his calls if it guaranteed he wouldn’t show up at the hospital again. It might keep her brother safe. “He’s welcome to call me any time to check on Brett. I won’t mind.”

“I told him that, but he didn’t believe me. Maybe you could tell him before we leave.”

Zoe nodded. She scooped up more drywall mud with the trowel and spread it along a seam. “All right.”

Marjorie helped her position a ladder close to the wall and held it steady, while Zoe climbed it. Zoe hooked the paint pan onto the ladder and scooped more mud.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Marjorie asked.

“My brother taught me. When he’s home he likes to do things around the house, like Hawk. He says it helps him relax. My dad did, too.”

“Was he in the military, too?”

“Yes, a career Marine. He was killed in Desert Storm by friendly fire.”

“Jesus,” Marjorie breathed. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” She swallowed against the immediate thickness in her throat. Even after so long, it hurt.

“And now Cutter’s hurt, and you’re with Hawk. How do you deal with all that?”

She wasn’t exactly with Hawk, and she wasn’t certain she ever would be, but she wasn’t sharing that with a stranger. “You love them, despite their need to risk themselves. You don’t really have a choice. You can’t pick and choose who you love, can you?”

Her own words resonated. Did she love Hawk? She looked over to where he and the men worked. She studied him. His brows were drawn together in concentration, his pale gray eyes focused on the task at hand. With his lips pressed together in a thin line he looked intent and determined. Would he approach an emotional attachment with as much fervor? How would a woman go about inspiring that kind of response from him? She pressed her hand against the hollow sensation the thoughts triggered.

“No, you can’t.” Marjorie’s reply had her shifting her attention back to the woman in time to see an expression of sadness flicker across her face.

Finished with the strip from ceiling to mid-wall, Zoe climbed down the ladder. She stepped off the last rung and lost her balance. Grabbing at the ladder to stabilize herself, she caught Marjorie’s bell-shaped sleeve along with it. The other woman sucked in her breath and grimaced in pain.

“I’m sorry, Marjorie.” Releasing the fabric, Zoe caught her breath, a sickening, dropping sensation hitting her stomach. “Oh my God!”

Chapter Thirteen

‡

“Did I hurt you?” Zoe stared at the large bruise on the woman’s arm just above her wrist.

Marjorie jerked away. “No.” She shook her head as she smoothed her sleeve back over the injury. “It’s nothing. I just banged my arm on something the other day and have a bruise now. It’s a little sore.”

It didn’t look like an accidental injury. It looked like someone had grabbed her arm hard enough to leave the impression of every finger. Zoe studied the woman’s face, a prickly, numbing shock traveling down her body. She gathered her composure with an effort and looked into the woman’s face until Marjorie’s eyes rose to meet hers. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’m fine.” Marjorie’s fingers smoothed the sleeve again. “But it might be a good idea for you to stay off that ladder. You almost fell.”

“Maybe you’re right.” She had to do something. If there was the slightest possibility Derrick Armstrong was abusive, she had to try and help Marjorie. She struggled to bring her scattered thoughts and emotions together. “Sometimes I don’t want to recognize my limitations. I just keep ignoring them, until they slap me in the face.”

“You seem to do pretty well,” Marjorie said. “And Hawk doesn’t seem to mind.”

“He’s very supportive, but there’s a line where support can turn into pity. Once that happens, the balance is thrown off.” Zoe’s attention strayed to Hawk as he used the drill to sink sheet rock screws. A ridge of muscle along his shoulder blade stood out beneath his t-shirt. Her mouth went dry as she thought about running her hand over his strong back and feeling the movement of his muscles beneath her hands. “Relationships are all about balance, don’t you think?”

Marjorie brushed her sun-streaked hair over her shoulder. “I hadn’t ever thought about it like that, but yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“When one partner is too demanding or has unreasonable expectations, the relationship can escalate into something unhealthy and painful for both people.”

Marjorie’s features grew slack, then shuttered. “I suppose so.”

Zoe stifled a sigh. She sensed she’d gone as far as she could. She didn’t want the woman to shut down completely and push her away. She changed the subject. “What do you do, Marjorie?”

“I’m a software analyst for a corporation that makes computer games.”

“That sounds way more interesting than being a physical therapist.”

“It doesn’t to me,” Marjorie said with a smile. “All those jocks who come to you for treatment—” She fanned her face as though hot. “You and Hawk haven’t slept together yet, have you?”

Having the tables turned triggered an instant urge to retreat. Yet how was she to expect Marjorie to open up to her, if she wasn’t ready to do the same? She drew a deep breath and looked up from smoothing the compound at the bottom of the seam. “No we haven’t. I had a really bad experience in college, and it made me a little wary.”

“Hawk’s a really good guy. He’d never hurt you.”

The momentary possessive, predatory look of jealousy on his face as he had grasped her arm that morning in the bathroom came to mind. It had been jealousy, hadn’t it? Or had it been something else? He had never been out of control though, and had immediately backed off. “No, I don’t think he would ever hurt me, intentionally. I suppose all men have the potential, but it all boils down to control.” His behavior at the hospital after Brett had been slapped occurred to her. “I’ve seen him furious, but he never lost it. He turned his anger toward getting something accomplished, not trying to destroy anything.” She had sensed his frustration tonight after returning from the hospital. He had done the same thing.

“I suppose it helps that they can go blow something up now and then and release their aggressions.”

Zoe nodded toward the three men hanging sheetrock. “Or they can do something constructive with a hammer and nails.”

When Marjorie remained silent Zoe looked up to find her studying Derrick’s broad back, a look of sadness on her face.

Emotion settled in the pit of her stomach as heavy as the bucket of sheet rock mud she dipped into. For as much sympathy and concern as Marjorie inspired, Zoe dreaded having to share her suspicions with Hawk just as much.

*

Hawk tossed the damp towel into the hamper and tugged on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He needed to talk to Zoe. But the things he needed to say couldn’t be said to anyone outside the team. God damn it! Every day something happened that hammered at his trust in his men. God he needed a drink, he needed something.

Leaving his room, he turned toward the kitchen, but noticed the light still on in the living room and changed direction.

He paused at the entrance and watched as Zoe rubbed a towel against the mass of hair she draped over her shoulder. She looked up as he took a step into the room.

I think Doc might be strung out on drugs. He nearly said the words aloud just to feel the weight of them. He couldn’t be. The team was tested for drugs all the time. And even compounds like steroids showed up in the tests. Surely Zack wouldn’t risk getting canned from the team. Not for drugs. Not for anything.

He’d been alone so long. Held his own council over things that had revisited him over and over. Things he couldn’t share with her. But the pain of this was too much.

“There’s something going on with Doc. When I asked him if he and Bowie had been fishing lately, he said he hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks. That’s some kind of record, because those two are tight and, besides chasing women, fishing is one of their favorite pass-times.”

Zoe set aside the towel and combed her fingers through her hair. “Maybe he’s really been sick and Bowie’s stayed away to keep from getting it.”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the muscles there tight with frustration. “I’m going over to his apartment tomorrow and have a talk with him.” He was tired of these suspicions. He was going to get to the bottom of this shit.

“Hawk—” Her tone sounded tentative and laced with something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He focused on her. Her hesitancy had his stomach churning.

“I think Derrick might be abusing Marjorie.”

The shock of it hit him like a punch.

“She had a bruise on her arm that looked suspicious. She said she’d hit it on something, but you could see the finger marks. I tried to talk to her, but she clammed up.”

“Jesus! What the hell is going on with these guys?”

“They’re just guys, Hawk, under tremendous pressure. All of you are.” She rose to her feet and came to him. When she put her arms around his waist and pressed close, some of the pain eased.

“We send you to awful places and ask you to do things, terrible, painful, necessary things, and then we ask you not to think about it, remember it, or internalize any of it. We ask the impossible.”

She leaned back to look up at him. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the circumstances surrounding our first meeting has affected how I feel about Derrick, made me suspicious of him to begin with. Maybe I read the whole situation wrong. Maybe it really was an accident.”

God, he hoped so. He ran his hands over her back and traced the slender shape of her through her t-shirt. Just touching her made him feel better. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. See if I can draw him out. If these guys are in trouble, I have to reach out to them and get them squared away. They’re my men, Zoe.”

“I understand.”

Was that possible? Could she really understand how his loyalties were being pulled in a dozen directions? One of them might have attempted to murder a member of their team? The thought hit him in the solar plexus every time he thought it. It made him sick. But until he figured out who was responsible, they deserved the best he could do for them.

“I want whoever hurt Cutter to pay, Zoe. But unless he wakes up and tells us, we may never know.”

“I know.”

“He may already be paying for it. It would have to be eating at him.” How could it not? “If it’s one of them, and I find out which, he’ll pay. I promise.”

Her blue eyes settled on his face. “I know.”

He brushed her lips with his and rested his forehead against hers. He wanted to lie in bed with her and hold her and be held in return. Acknowledging those feelings brought with it a surge of pain and desire he didn’t know how to deal with.

She touched his cheek, her fingers caressing. “You don’t always have to stand alone.”

Hawk swallowed as need clamped around his throat and made it impossible for him to speak. They had both sustained emotional blows today. But was that a reason to make love?

“You’re such a temptation to me.” Her voice sounded husky and soft. She nestled closer and stood on her tiptoes to rub her cheek against his.

His heart took up a heavy rhythm and he fought the urge to cup her hips and drag her closer. So there was more there for her, too. Finding his voice he said, “Giving in to a little temptation now and then can be good for you.”

She drew a deep breath. “Can it?” Her lips brushed his jaw.

This shy, playful, kittenish thing she had going was killing him. “Yeah, it can,” he forced out between breaths. He grasped her hand and tugged her down the hall. Pausing at each switch for quick kisses, he turned the lights out.

The instant they crossed the bedroom threshold, he read Zoe’s feelings of awkwardness. Color deepened in her cheeks, and she avoided looking directly at him. When she pulled away, he thought she might beat a hasty retreat, but instead she moved to the opposite side of the bed and he realized she was removing her socks.

He shucked his t-shirt and tossed it atop the basket in the closet. As he turned, her bundled socks shot past him, ricocheted off the lid and fell into the hamper. He looked up.

Focusing on his face, Zoe stretched out on his bed; her arms bent beneath her head, leaving her midriff visible, the skin creamy and smooth. The lamp on the nightstand played upon her features etching the curve of her cheek and turning the reddish blond highlights in her hair to copper. She smiled at him. Blood rushed south, and he grew harder.

Visions of him peeling off her sweat pants and thrusting inside her played through his mind. He climbed onto the bed beside her and buried his face in the pillow with a groan. He just had to block out that smile until he knew he had himself under control.

Zoe’s hand ran over the back of his head and neck in a caress, and he turned his head to look at her. The tenderness he read in her expression intensified the ache.

“It’s been a long day,” she said.

“A week at least.”

She smiled again, then grew serious. “Our living together—it could become—awkward.”

Was she looking for an excuse to back away again? Or was she giving him an opportunity to do the same? He turned on his side to face her and tamped down the old feelings of pain and abandonment. “If you let every difficulty keep you from reaching for what you want, Zoe, you’ll never truly live.”

“I was thinking of you.” She ran her fingertips along his shoulder, her eyes tracking the movement. Her light, caressing touch raced through him to the bottoms of his feet. She focused on his face, her eyes dark, her pupils nearly swallowing the pale blue irises. Her voice sounded husky as she said, “Turn out the light.”

His heart stuttered then beat hard against his ribs. He leaned back and extinguished the bedside lamp. For a moment, the darkness was profound until his eyes adjusted to it.

She kissed him, her lips parted in invitation. All the nights he had lain awake, craving her, rolled over him like a tank. With a groan, part relief, part need, he crushed her close. Hungrily, greedily, he tasted her passion in the eager sweep of her tongue against his, and in the way she molded herself against him.

His hand shook as he ran it up beneath her t-shirt. Her skin felt like warm silk, her breast full and soft. Her nipple beaded beneath his palm and she groaned. He wished he could see her expression as he touched her. He strived to be gentle, but felt starved for her touch, for the feel of her body against his own.

He tugged her t-shirt upward and she wiggled free of it and pressed her breasts against his chest. Her bare skin brushing against his felt like heaven. When he rolled on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, she slid her hands down his back, cupped his buttocks, and rocked against his erection in a way that nearly sent him over the edge. He had to slow things down. But sweet Jesus, he didn’t want to. He slid downward, latched onto her nipple, and sucked.

Zoe’s breathing caught and she thrust her fingers into his hair. The sweet, empty ache inside her grew with every touch, every kiss, until she thought she might fly apart at any moment. She couldn’t touch him enough, couldn’t get close enough. His lips against her stomach, his breath on her skin, his tongue dipping into her navel, all had her nearly sobbing with need. When he dragged the sweat pants and panties down her legs, she couldn’t wait to be free of them.

Then he was on top of her, kissing her, trembling against her as he touched her between her legs, his fingers so wonderfully, carefully gentle. That he trembled with wanting her fired her blood and made the empty, writhing need inside her grow in intensity.

She ran her hand down his chest, over the flat muscular plane of his stomach and beneath his shorts. The size and heat of his erection was both startling and arousing. He groaned her name, his voice a low rumble against her ear that vibrated along her nerve endings and raised goose bumps on her skin.

“Come inside me,” she managed, the words a breathy, pleading whisper.

He shook free of his sweats, and leaned over her to reach in the nightstand. The wispy crackle as he tore open the condom sounded loud, underlining the huge, terrifying, wonderful step she was taking, they were taking. With his first push of entry, the sweet intimacy between them caught at Zoe’s heart and she drew him down to her, her lips seeking his. The wanting, the needing, tangled into a surge of love and desire so strong she could barely breathe. The quick burning pain of his possession seemed nothing compared to the closeness she shared with him.

“God, Zoe, tell me I’m not hurting you.” His lips skimmed her cheek, her brow, and came back to her lips.

“You’re not.” Not yet. She cut off the thought and ran her hands up and down his back urging him closer. He moved deep inside her, triggering an answering thread of renewed need. He groaned her name again, his voice ragged. His slow, gentle rocking movements quickened. She clung to him and turned her lips against his throat, tasting the heat of his skin. She lost herself in the play of his muscles beneath her hands, and the damp brush of his taut belly against hers. Her breathing grew labored as she gave herself to him, moved with him, moved against him. At the first pulsing wave of his release, pleasure erupted inside her, so sweetly satisfying, she gasped his name.

*

When his breathing had returned to normal, Hawk searched for and found Zoe’s lips. “The next time we do this the light stays on,” he said, his tone adamant as he slowly eased out of her though he was reluctant to move.

Her hands ran up and down his back in a caress. “Maybe.”

“No maybes. I want to see you when I touch you next time, Zoe.”

“Maybe we can work our way up to that, a little at a time.”

“You just trusted me enough to make love with you. How can you do that, and not trust me enough to let me see you while I’m doing it?”

“In the dark, I can be as beautiful as any other woman for you.”

Pain grabbed him by the throat. “Oh baby—” He rested his cheek against hers and swallowed against it. “You are beautiful, Zoe. Every time you walk into a room, I get hard. I’ve been going around for weeks in that condition.”

“I have too, I mean, not hard, but, you know.” Her voice was just above a whisper. Her lips parted and warm touched his shoulder.

An instant response shot through him and he turned his lips to hers. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

He eased away from her and off the bottom of the bed. Closing the bathroom door, he turned on the light and moved to the toilet to discard the condom. He froze. “Oh, shit.” A dropping sensation hit his stomach worse than a three thousand foot parachute jump. As the prophylactic hit the water, he drew several steadying breaths, a thousand thoughts and emotions bombarding him as he watched the useless thing circle the toilet bowl and disappear down the drain.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, leaving the light on. She had gotten under the covers, and as he crossed the threshold, she drew the sheet up over her breasts. Two long steps put him at the foot of the bed. The pale light from the bathroom etched one side of her face and shoulder, leaving the rest in shadow. She looked so young, so small. Responsibility lay like a weight upon his shoulders. “We have a problem, Zoe.”

Chapter Fourteen

‡

“Are you on the pill?”

Hawk’s face was in shadow and she couldn’t read his expression, but his tone held a note of—forced calm.

“No, I’m not.”

“The condom broke, Zoe.”

She stared at him, trying to take in what he’d said. Shock hit her and her facial muscles stiffened. She struggled to control her scattered thoughts and count days. “I think it will be all right. But I guess, if we’re going to do more of this, I’d better call in the morning and see about some kind of backup birth control.”

“Jesus—” He rubbed both hands over his short hair. “I’m sorry, honey.”

She swallowed as the bathroom light played upon his long lean body, highlighting the muscles of his stomach, and the precarious grip the towel held on his hips. Even with anxiety still curling her toes, she wanted him all over again.

Completely unself-conscious, He whipped the towel free and climbed into bed. “You don’t have to worry about diseases or anything. We get checked out all the time. And I don’t take chances.” He gathered her close. “Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

“You don’t have to worry either.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Heat flared in her face when he continued to look at her. “I just haven’t met anyone I’ve wanted to—” She searched for the right words.

Hawk had no such trouble. “Lower the barriers for?”

“I guess you could put it that way. There was only one other time.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of pressure and responsibility you just dumped on me, along with a pretty big compliment.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure you can handle it.”

“Will you tell me what the guy in college did?”

Her stomach muscles tightened. She wasn’t ready to share one of the most degrading moments of her life. “Why? There’s nothing that can be changed about it.”

“Because it’s important to the way you are with me now, Zoe.”

Surprised by his pushing for more, instead of the reverse, she remained silent. Was she ready for the emotional intimacy he was shooting for? She didn’t know. She turned on her side and guided his arm around her waist. Hawk slipped his arm beneath her neck and tucked his legs beneath hers, his body, adamantly male, molding to hers from behind. She caught her breath at the instant shock of desire that pulsed through her.

Silence settled between them. Unable to relax, she caressed his arm with her fingertips. She couldn’t share the whole terrible, embarrassing, painful story. “Once he saw my scars, he couldn’t—function.” Her voice came out just above a whisper around the knot in her throat.

His lips moved against her shoulder. “If a few scars could make such a difference in the way he felt, he didn’t deserve you, Zoe.”

“You haven’t seen them yet. You may feel the same.”

“We can find out right now,” he started to rise.

She grabbed his arm. “Not yet, Hawk.”

He subsided. “It isn’t going to happen. Trust me, Zoe.”

She drew a deep breath. She had trusted him enough to make love with him. Why couldn’t he be satisfied with that like other men would be?

“You’re not going to chicken out on our date this weekend are you?”

“No.” She’d resigned herself to his seeing everything this weekend. But, it was going to be hard. Really hard.

“It’s only two days.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight?”

“No.”

“Then, give it a rest.”

He chuckled and the sound vibrated against her back.

“All right. I’d rather make love with you than war.” His hand cupped the lower half of her abdomen and he nuzzled her neck. “It feels good to hold you like this, Zoe.”

Desire swept through her and she placed her hand over his. Her voice a husky whisper, she said, “It feels good to be held.”

She turned to face him. The pale yellow light touched the ridge of his brow, the slope of his nose, but she couldn’t see his eyes clearly, or their expression. His hand swept down her back to cup her buttocks and guide her against him. His fingers lingered on the ridge of a scar on her backside and she held her breath as he traced its rectangular shape.

“Did you know in some African cultures they mark their bodies with scars because they believe it shows courage?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“They also believe it adds to their beauty, and in certain areas of the body, it enhances sexual pleasure.”

His fingertip continued to caress the ridge sending prickles of awareness down over the curve of her bottom right to the very core of her. Her heart beat so fast she couldn’t catch her breath. “Are you just shining me on, Lieutenant Yazzie?” she managed as she stroked his back.

“No, I’m not.” He kissed her, the pressure of his lips soft, tempting. “I’ll never lie to you, Zoe.” His erection rested against the inside of her thigh as he pushed closer. “Does it feel like I’m lying to you?”

“No,” she said in a tone strangled by renewed need. She molded the soft curve of her belly to the muscular tautness of his and drew his lips back to hers.

He turned pressing her back on the mattress and every inch of his long torso aligned with hers. She caught her breath as the course hair on his chest rubbed her breasts and the tempting length of his erection brushed against her intimately.

“I’ve been lying here every night since you moved in, wanting you and feeling guilty,” he said as his lips caressed the underside of her jaw.

“Why guilty?” She ran her fingers over the short hair at his nape.

“It’s a matter of trust, Zoe.” He drew back to look down at her.

She traced one high cheekbone with her thumb. She wanted him. Now that she had finally taken this step, she refused to allow her family to interfere with that. “I trust you to take care of me, in every way.”

He groaned and kissed her hard. “You know what I’m talking about,” he said, his breathing unsteady.

“I’m not thinking about anything but you and me right now. My family has no place in this bed between us.” She traced the curve of his ear with her tongue. He shuddered and rocked against her.

“Your mom will take one look at us and know, Zoe. Moms have a sixth sense about these things.”

“My sex life is none of her business,” she whispered and blew in his ear.

He turned his lips to hers, the sweep of his tongue hot and torrid. “I’ll lock up the firearms, just in case.” He breathed as his body once again took possession of hers.

*

“I’m fine, Mom,” Zoe said as she cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear. She tugged at the knot in her shoestring. I made love with Hawk and it was more than I ever expected. That was probably more information than her mother would ever want to know. She dropped the shoe on the floor and sat down on the couch.

“And Brett?”

“They’re trying another medication tomorrow or actually adding another medication to the one he’s on. His heart rate is remaining steady and his blood pressure. He’s turned over on his own once, so I’m hopeful he’s close to waking up.” Please God!

“And Hawk?”

“He’s fine, Mom. He’s taking me parasailing tomorrow.”

“Don’t you have to do that on the water?”

“Yes. I’ll have to wear a bathing suit.”

Her mother’s silence stretched across the distance. “How do you feel about that, Zoe?”

She chose her words carefully. She wasn’t ashamed of having a relationship with Hawk. But she didn’t want her mother to think he had waited for her to leave to move in on her daughter either. That wasn’t the way it was at all.

“I’m a little—nervous about him seeing my leg. I don’t want him to pity me or go all super protective.”

Clara chuckled. “He’s taking his job to look out for you seriously, huh?”

She turned to look at Hawk as he entered the living room. “Yes, he is.” God, she sounded sappy.

His white t-shirt stretched across his chest, delineating the contour of the muscles there. He paused at a table just inside the front door and picked up his wallet and change. Khaki shorts hugged his taut waist and sculpted buttocks in just the right way. Looking over his shoulder at her as he stuffed his wallet in his back pocket, he caught her watching him. His pale gray eyes focused on her with a look that left her tingling and breathless.

“He’s been staying at the hospital with me.” Just in case something bad or good happens. She swallowed against the sudden tightening of her throat. “And we’ve been doing some remodeling here at the house. We’ve almost finished the rec room walls. Some of the team came over and helped us hang the sheetrock.”

“Zoe—” Her mother’s tone stopped her breathless rush of words.

She placed a hand against her midriff where her heart had fallen. Her mother knew. She had never been able to hide anything from her. Something in her tone had made it all clear as glass. She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Be careful, honey.”

All the concern and unconditional love expressed in those three words had her eyes stinging. “I’m—I will, Mom.”

“I’d like to speak to Hawk.” Clara’s tone changed just as quickly to protective mom mode. Zoe had heard it before.

Tempted to tell her he wasn’t available, she stalled instead. “How are Sharon and Katie Beth? How are both of them doing with the new baby?”

“Sharon’s doing well after the surgery. She’s been a little weepy but she’s doing well and Katie Beth’s in little momma mode right now. How long that will last, none of us knows. She doesn’t like diaper time at all.”

Zoe laughed. “And Ali Marie?”

“Growing like a weed and eating well. She gets up twice a night, so right now none of us are getting much sleep, but that will change soon enough. She’s a beautiful baby. She looks a lot like you did. Now quit stalling and hand the phone to Hawk.”

Zoe bit back an oath and motioned to Hawk. Biting her lip she handed him the receiver, then watched his expression. His yes and no answers gave her no clue what her mother was saying, nor did his expression. He hung up and his lips quirked upward.

“What did she say?”

“She just wanted to be certain I was going to look out for you on the water.”

“She knows.”

“If she does, she didn’t say anything to me.” He tugged her close and brushed her lips with his own. He smelled of soap, toothpaste, and a woodsy scented cologne mixed with his own clean scent.

His hair was still damp from his shower as she smoothed the dark strands with her fingertips.

“Besides, you said last night you weren’t going to let your family interfere with our being together.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what are you all worked up about?”

What was she worked up about? Was she worried her mother would be disappointed in her for sleeping with Hawk? Or was she more worried about her saying something to him about it? The latter, definitely.

“My family is way too protective of me. I don’t want them giving you a hard time if or when they find out we’re sleeping together. I’m not really worried about anything they might say to me.”

“I’m a big boy, Zoe. You don’t have to run interference for me.” His hand caressed the rounded curve of her buttocks.

She tiptoed to better mold her small frame against him.

“But it sure feels good when you’re covering me,” He murmured against her ear, his warm breath making her shiver. He dipped his head to kiss her again and for a moment she forgot everything but the pleasure he gave her each time he kissed her.

“I have to meet Derrick in fifteen minutes. When’s your doctor’s appointment?” he asked, his tone husky, his gray eyes alight with feelings.

“Noon.”

“I’ll be back at eleven to pick you up.”

She nodded and released him.

She studied the door as it closed behind him. With his kiss still burning on her lips and her heart still beating in her ears, she hadn’t had time to think about Derrick Armstrong. If Hawk questioned Strong Man too directly would he blow up and try and hurt Hawk? Zoe rushed to the door and pulled it open.

Chapter Fifteen

‡

“What’s going on, Strong Man?” Hawk said as he ducked beneath the hood of the bright Canary yellow Jeep to stand next to Derrick.

“Ah—Marjorie didn’t start my car while I was gone and the battery’s dead.” The man sounded out of sorts. “I have to have a jump to start it.”

“No problem, I have cables and I can pull my car around.”

“Thanks, LT. I appreciate it.”

Hawk got back in his Saturn Vue and did a U-turn in the apartment complex’s parking lot to arrange the cars nose to nose. Pulling the lever inside his car to open the hood, he paused to turn off the ringer on his cell phone, and tossed it onto the passenger seat. If he and Derrick were going to have a heart to heart, he didn’t want any interruptions.

Getting out of the vehicle, he retrieved the jumper cables from his trunk and linked the two batteries. At his signal, Derrick started his Jeep. The vehicle emitted a high-pitched squeal like a prolonged scream.

“Sounds like you might need to spray that belt with some lubricant,” Hawk yelled above the noise as he approached the man’s window.

“Will do, as soon as I’m sure this sucker will hold a charge.”

The sound died down to a persistent squeak as Hawk unhooked the cables and rolled them up. He tossed them into the trunk and turned off the Saturn.

Leaving his vehicle running, Derrick exited the car and joined him. “What’s up, LT?”

“I thought I’d just touch base. You’ve been out of town with your sister, and this is the first time I’ve been able to drive the car since straining my knee.”

“Sometimes you just have to get out of the house away from them, don’t you?”

Them? That one word didn’t sound good. There was aggression and impatience crammed in there, as well as a touch of condescension. He struggled to keep his expression neutral. “Well, Zoe’s pretty easy to get along with. She likes her own space sometimes, too.”

“What does she do? Go shopping?”

“No. She reads a lot. And she spends a lot of time at the hospital.”

Derrick frowned. “That’s tough duty.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Derrick leaned back against the car beside him, his expression subdued. “Cutter isn’t going to wake up, is he?”

Hawk shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“He looks dead,” Derrick said, an empty note in his tone.

Hawk glanced at him and found him studying his shoes.

“He’s breathing on his own, and all his vitals are normal. He’s going to come out of this.”

Derrick looked up. “It freaks me out to see him like—he is.”

“I know. It did me too at first. But we have to stay hopeful for his sake, and for Zoe’s. And if you say anything negative about his prognosis, don’t say it in front of her. She insists he’s going to wake up.”

“She’s got her head buried in the sand. He looks bad.”

“He’s losing weight, Derrick. But we can’t lose faith. He’s tough.”

Derrick nodded. “Yeah, he is.”

“During the mission, did you hear anything unusual inside the building?” Hawk asked.

“No. The tangos upstairs walking back and forth. I was focused on getting my package delivered and getting out of there. Cutter was down the hall doing the same. Or so I thought.”

“His charges had been set, but he was down when I reached him.”

Derrick shook his head and rubbed a hand over his brow. “It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Did Cutter know about the assault charges you’ve had leveled against you?”

Derrick’s features blanked with shock. It took a moment before he recovered. “Who told you?” His voice sounded hoarse.

“Who, isn’t important. It’s that there were charges brought to begin with. You’ve dodged a bullet, Derrick. And if it’s established that Cutter knew about them, you could be in real trouble.”

Derrick clenched his fists “I didn’t touch him. He’s my best buddy. We’re tight. We might do the bonding thing and punch each other but we cover each other’s back. He’d never rat me out.” His eyes narrowed. “Who did?”

His patience splintered and Hawk thrust his face close to his. “Who the fuck cares? The problem is that if I found out about it, the brass will too, and then you’ll be knee deep in shit. Use your head, Strong Man. You know what I’m saying.”

Derrick’s features looked wooden. “I didn’t hurt, Cutter. I’ll take a lie detector test to that.”

“I don’t think the Navy’s real impressed with those since they train us to lie so well.” Hawk said, drilling his point home. “How’s Marjorie?”

“She’s all right. Why do you ask?”

“I noticed she had a bruise on her arm.”

Derrick looked away. “She hit her arm on something. She’s all right.”

Hawk fell silent waiting for Derrick to look at him. “We’ve all been under the gun. Our last tour was tough. And with Cutter being hurt during the last mission—sometimes emotional stressors trigger problems. If you’re having a problem with anger management—”

Derrick’s cheeks grew flushed and his eyes narrowed. “Was this your idea or your girlfriend’s?”

“Mine, Derrick.” He met the other man’s gaze straight on. “All it takes is one incident being reported by the MP’s, or something going through the court system, and it can haunt your career. Upper brass wants men who can stay cool under pressure.”

“Yeah, they want us to be bad-asses only when it’s convenient for them.” Bitterness laced the man’s voice, and pain flickered across his face. “I felt as though we were shadow boxing, LT. You could never tell who the enemy was. And what’s up with this bombing your own people shit? Why sacrifice a hundred of them just to get at two Americans?”

Hawk laid a hand on Derrick’s shoulder. “They want the U.S. Military gone, Derrick. Out of their country. And they’re willing to sacrifice whoever they have to, to see it happen. And as long as they’re threatening people, we can’t walk away. So we’re stuck in a cycle.” He shook his head. “The politicians’ reasons for us being there don’t mean shit. We’re there trying to protect the regular people on the street. That’s what we do, protect those too weak or defenseless to protect themselves. It’s what we’re about.” He looked the man in the face. “And that includes the people we love here at home.”

Derrick’s gaze dropped away.

Hawk drew a deep breath and chose his words with care.

“Marjorie seems to be supportive, Derrick.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands over his head brushing his close-cropped blond hair up.

“Do you think seeing someone, talking things out, would help you deal?”

“I can’t, LT. If word get’s back to the brass it will do just as much damage to my career as a police report.”

“No, it won’t. Because it looks like you’re being responsible and dealing with the problem, not ignoring it. And besides that, you can see someone off post.”

“Like that’s going to happen without someone finding out about it. And what about your girlfriend?” Derrick’s eyes narrowed again.

“Zoe knows how to keep a confidence.”

“I’ve never known any female able to keep her mouth shut.”

Hawk couldn’t completely quash his anger. “Yeah, you have, Derrick. Marjorie. She didn’t say a word. It was the bruise you left behind that has me here talking to you, not anything she said or did.” He studied the other man’s expression carefully. “She’s not going to have trouble from you because of this talk, is she?”

“No.”

There was a sullen tone to Derrick’s voice. Hawk eyed him. The window of connection had closed, and the man was growing defensive. He’d have to back off and follow through again later. “While you think about it, if you feel like the pressure’s building and you need someone to talk to, you call me.”

“Sure.”

Derrick’s continued brevity, the tension in his body language, shouted a warning. “If I don’t get it together, you’ll turn it back on me.”

“That’s the trick, Strong Man. I won’t have to. You’ll get back what you put in. Like most things in life.” Hawk straightened away from the car and crammed his hands in his pockets.

“All right. I get it.”

At the dismissal in the man’s tone, Hawk eyed him. Should he push any harder, it might come back on Marjorie. Jesus! All the psychological training he’d received and he couldn’t figure out what to do. If he tried to use a threat to keep Derrick under control, it might push him into doing something regrettable. He’d gone as far as he could. For now.

“Stay icy, Strong Man,” he said as he got into his car.

“Yeah.” Derrick nodded, his expression hard, unreadable.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, Hawk looked up into his rearview mirror. Derrick stood there watching him drive away, and something in the man’s body language had alarms going off in his head. He’d have to stay in close touch with him, and if he stepped over the line again, he’d have no choice but to call in the MP’s.

He’d have to report this to his commander and his own actions related to it. He couldn’t hold back that information, it could come back to bite him. But Jesus, the idea made him feel like a snitch. And on top of the lack of progress in finding out who had hurt Cutter, it would make for a delightful meeting with Lt. Commander Jackson.

Reaching over to the cell phone beside him, he flipped it open to check for calls and recognized his home number on the device several times. Zoe had obviously been trying to reach him. He pushed the button to return her calls.

“Where are you? Are you all right?” her voice came across the connection in a strident tone he had never heard before.

“I just left Derrick and I’m on my way back home to pick you up. What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“I turned the ringer off while we were talking. What’s wrong?”

Silence hung over the line and he checked to see if the signal had broken.

“Hey, Zoe, talk to me.”

“I was worried when you didn’t answer. I thought maybe he’d hurt you. Damn it, Hawk—”

This time he knew the signal hadn’t died. She’d hung up.

Chapter Sixteen

‡

As Hawk came in the front door, Zoe bit back the words threatening to erupt. How could he have turned off his ringer? He knew how distrustful she was of Derrick. He was abusing his girlfriend. She was certain of it.

What if Brett had found out about Marjorie’s abuse and threatened to report it to Hawk? Or their commander? Derek could be discharged if he was arrested and the charges proven.

“Hey, you all right?” Hawk’s greeting, so carefully measured, triggered an urge to gnash her teeth at him. She stifled the desire to stomp her feet and scream at him. Why was it, by their very attitude, men were able to project the belief that an angry woman was an unstable one?

“No, I’m not all right.” She struggled to keep her voice at an even pitch though the emotion clogged her throat. “I was concerned that Derrick might do something to hurt you. And you turned your ringer off so I couldn’t check on you.”

He reached out to touch her arm, but she drew back. If he touched her, her anger would probably dissolve and she’d cry. Damn, she hated being such a girl.

Hawk’s brows fisted in a frown. “I didn’t want any interruptions. It was hard enough to talk to him without the phone going off.”

Okay, she understood that. But Derrick Armstrong was an unstable man. “He could have attacked you.”

“And what could you have done about it if he had, Zoe? You were here, and my having the phone on or off wouldn’t have changed your ability to do anything about it.”

Her heart drummed in her ears as her temper spiked. He sounded so damned rational. She fought the urge to shake him. Yeah, that could happen. “I tried to call you right after you left to talk you out of speaking to him. You didn’t answer then either.”

“I must have been in a dead spot. I’d have answered if I’d gotten the call.”

He was handling her. Arrogant ass—She narrowed her eyes.

Reaction settled in and she folded her arms against her to suppress the shakes. “I don’t trust him. I think he’s the one who attacked my brother. All I could think of was that, if he felt threatened, he’d do the same to you.”

“Well, he didn’t. We didn’t do the male bonding thing and punch fists, but he didn’t go psycho on me either. He’s pissed, but he realizes he either deals with this problem, or it’s going to blow his career out of the water. And as for him being responsible for Cutter’s injuries, it’s a possibility, but we haven’t got any firm proof. Until we do, my hands are tied, Zoe.”

She understood, but she didn’t want to be so in control right now. She’d been so afraid for him. If she experienced this strong a reaction over a confrontation between him and Derrick Armstrong, how would she deal with it when he shipped out again?

Tears burned her eyes, and she turned away, afraid he would read what she was feeling. God, how would she bear it?

“Are you going to let me hold you or are you going to stay mad?” he asked, his arms sliding around her from behind.

She wanted to jerk away from him and burrow into him all at the same time. His touch triggered such pain, and such comfort. She swallowed against the tearful surge that made her throat ache. “I was angry-afraid for you, Adam, not angry-angry. There’s a difference—in case you don’t know.”

“I know.” His voice sounded husky. His lips touched the back of her neck making her shiver. “You just called me Adam. Only my mom called me Adam after I went into the Navy. When she was mad or very serious about something she’d call me Adam Yazzie.”

“Well, I’m very serious, Adam Yazzie. I don’t want you counseling him again and trying to save his damn career. If he hurts Marjorie, he deserves to spend time in the brig.”

“Well, I can’t say I disagree.” He nuzzled her neck as his hand cupped the underside of her breast, his long fingers kneading it.

Instantly, an empty ache settled between her legs and she reached behind her to run her hand down his long thigh. The need to pull him in as close as he could get, to hold him tight and keep him safe, twisted inside her.

Turning to face him, she cupped his face between her hands and studied his features with a desperation she couldn’t quite suppress. “Tell me you’ll be careful.”

“I will, I promise.” His gray gaze remained steady on her face. “You don’t have to worry about me, Zoe. I can take care of myself.” He ran a hand down over her backside.

She stretched upward, looped her arms around his neck, and sank into him, aligning her body to his. His instant response made her heart accelerate.

“Zoe—” His husky whisper sounded like a groan.

She turned her lips to his, parted, eager, and tasted his response. Passion fired between them like wildfire, hot and intense.

Hawk’s hands ran under her blouse and caressed her back, molding her closer. “Appointment,” he murmured when they broke for breath.

“Screw it.” She dragged his mouth back to hers needing his kisses, his touch, his body inside hers.

Cupping her buttocks, he hiked her upward and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The hard thrust of his erection rubbed against her intimately with each step he took and she squirmed against it.

“Oh God, baby—” Hawk fell across the bed with her beneath him. His fingers clumsy with eagerness, he jerked her blouse up, peeled her bra upward, and his mouth hot and wet latched onto her nipple.

She cupped his head, holding him against her, then slid her hands down across his shoulders, her fingers kneading the muscles there as pleasure spiraled inside her, making her ache for more. She wanted him inside her, his weight pressing down on her, his muscles taut as their bodies worked toward completion together.

Zoe wiggled downward. She unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. Her palms cupped the curve of his buttocks as she shoved his pants and boxer briefs down. His erection sprang free and her fingers closed around him, pumped up and down once-twice.

“Zoe—” Hawk panted her name and pulled away to pull her pants down. She jerked one leg free and he came back to her, driving inside her with one quick thrust then rocked, pushing inside her as deep as he could get.

Her body tightened around him and she cried out as she climaxed, the intense sensation racing through her like an electric current leaving her fingers and toes tingling.

When her vision cleared, she caught the flash of his smile as he began moving inside her again in a gentler more leisurely rhythm. The feeling of pleasure began building inside her again. She pulled his shirt up and he wiggled free of it.

She nipped at his shoulder, smoothed the spot with her tongue, then sucked. He shuddered and his movements became rougher as his control slipped. She clung to him, driven by a need to be as close as possible, to feel him alive and safe inside her.

Tracing the straight line of his spine with her fingertips, his muscles flexed beneath her palms. She acknowledged his strength and his vulnerability and held him, opening her body, her heart to him. She pressed a feverish kiss to his collarbone and the furious beat of his pulse beat against her lips.

“Zoe—” Hawk’s deep voice sounded a hoarse plea as the heavy torrent of his release throbbed deep inside her. It set off another quick, sweet sweep of sensation, less intense, yet no less satisfying. It echoed through her for long, slow moments.

She cupped the back of his head as he rested his head in the bend of her neck, his breath hot and moist on her skin.

“Jesus! I forgot to use a condom again,” he said raising his head to look down at her.

She couldn’t lay the responsibility on him. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been so—impatient.”

Hawk’s frown dissolved and he shook his head. “You know you drive me crazy, too.” He caressed her cheek. “If something comes of this, Zoe, you know you can depend on me to do the right thing.”

She studied his expression, so serious, so direct. Would she want him to do the right thing because she’d gotten pregnant? Would that be enough? No way!

“We’ll need to be more careful from now on. I’d prefer to have a choice, if, why, or when I get married. If you’re talking financial support and weekend visits—”

Hawk kissed her, hard. “I grew up without a dad and my kids aren’t going through that.” He withdrew from her and sat up.

His sudden withdrawal leaving her bereft, Zoe worked her bra back in place and tugged her shirt down. He pulled his boxer briefs and pants up his calves and she eyed his tight muscular buttocks as he stood and pulled his clothing all the way up. She marveled at the beauty of his body even as her thoughts ran in a totally different direction.

Being a SEAL, he couldn’t control a bomb dropping out of the sky or sniper getting in a lucky shot. Didn’t he see that? “Are you saying that you’re giving up the military should you become a father?”

Hawk went completely still, his gaze fastened on her bare legs first one, then the other.

Zoe froze, her stomach plummeting.

Don’t look at them. The words were a shout in her head, but her tongue lay paralyzed. Time seemed to stop. The sound of her own breathing filled her ears. The stark emptiness of his expression caught and squeezed her heart.

Feelings of being naked and vulnerable crashed over her, and she jerked to a seated position and swung her legs off the bed. Her pants and panties, still wrapped around her foot, lay twisted on the floor. A hard, cold knot of panic gripped her throat as she yanked them free and tried to get them separated and turned right side out. Her hands shook and didn’t want to work.

“Zoe—stop.”

Hawk tried to grab her hands, but she pulled away. She had to get the pants on. She had to cover up.

“God damn it!” He twisted them from her grasp and threw them across the room. “Look at me.” He dropped to his knees in front of her.

She didn’t want to see his look of shock and revulsion. She didn’t want to look at him, and know every connection they had made was over. He turned her and cupping her face looked into her eyes. She read shock and pain in his expression, but thank God, no sickness.

“Zoe—” His throat worked as he swallowed, and he dropped his hands to her hips. He dragged her off the bed to straddle his lap, her knees bent on either side of him. His arms tightened and he held her close. For long moments, he rested his forehead against her shoulder. His fingers cupped her buttocks, holding her as he drew several long, slow breaths, but the tension just kept building in his body, his shoulders growing taut.

She ran her hands up his back and he drew back to look into her face. “It doesn’t change the way I feel about you, Zoe. Not one damn bit. They’re just scars. They don’t change who you are. You got that?”

Quick tears blurred her vision and she nodded, though afraid to believe he truly meant it. But the pain of not believing left her barely able to breathe.

His cheeks grew flushed, and a cold, hard rage built in his expression darkening his eyes to slate and sharpening his features. “Tell me that the son-of-a-bitch who did this spent some time in jail. Tell me he was beaten and tortured every day he was there.”

“He’s dead,” she managed, her voice finally working.

“Good. I’m glad.” His hard, level tone was almost scarier than his expression.

Realizing how deep his anger ran, Zoe touched his cheek in a tentative caress.

Hawk’s gaze focused on her, and the intensity of his expression eased. He smoothed back a strand of hair from her chin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go Alpha on you. It’s just—I can see what was supposed to be.” He ran his hand down her thigh. “What should have been. And to know he took that from you-and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“It happened a long time ago.” The frustration she read in his face eased the tight band of emotion constricting her lungs. “At the time I was too young and too focused on just learning to walk again to realize how much this would affect my life later.”

“Don’t let him and that asshole in college have that much power over you, baby. They’re not worth it. Break free of all that and concentrate on who you are now, Zo.” His fingers slid over the side of her damaged leg, bent along his thigh. “Am I hurting you holding you like this?”

Break free. If only she could. If only she had the courage to do so. She shook her head, even though the position pulled at her calf muscle. “But I might need some help getting up.”

“Not yet, okay?” He rested his forehead against her shoulder again.

Zoe stroked the nape of his neck and eventually the angry tension drained from him. When his large hands ran up beneath her shirt molding her closer she caught her breath.

“I know you want to go to the hospital, but do you suppose we could take an hour or so before we go?” Hawk asked as he nibbled her earlobe. His hands cupped her buttocks again.

Her heart and her breathing stuttered. She sucked in air as the familiar tempting heat began to build inside her. “An hour would be good.”

He drew back to look at her and a teasing smile laced with tenderness spread his lips. “It might take a little longer. I’ll want to take my time, now that I can see you.”

Tears threatened again, but she blinked them back. “Are you sure?”

He kissed her, his lips and tongue tempting and insistent. “Doesn’t it feel as though I’m sure?”

His arousal, hard and ready, pressed against her, and her uncertainty melted away. “Yeah—it feels just right.”

Chapter Seventeen

‡

Hawk leaned back against the car and folded his arms. He glanced toward the public restroom where Zoe had gone to change into her swimsuit. A man hauling a cooler trudged past, his beach bag laden wife following close behind, holding the hands of two little girls.

The woman paused to lift one of the children onto her hip, then grabbed the other child’s hand and moved on.

The little girl reminded him of Katie Beth and he smiled. How had Zoe, with her leg injury, gotten along hauling Katie Beth like that? With the rapport she had with her niece, he’d lay odds she’d done it often. Even imagining her lifting the added weight of a toddler made him anxious. Why was he even thinking about this stuff?

He jerked his thoughts away from the question and glanced at his watch. The run-by at the hospital had made them a little late, but they were okay, he’d built in some crunch time. How would Zoe react to other people seeing her leg? She’d been quiet on the way here and he’d read tension in her face, though she’d tried to shake it off. He had watched her mentally bracing herself in the car even before he’d pulled into the parking lot. Closing his eyes, he rolled his neck to loosen the taut muscles there and tilted his face to the sun. She could do this. She was stronger than she thought. Besides it would do her good to check out Mission Beach and soak up some sun. They both needed a break from the hospital.

The injury, much worse than he had expected, had left the lower half of her leg looking fragile and thin, smaller than the other. But it wasn’t nearly as unsightly as she imagined. Rectangular shaped skin grafts covered the injury like a patchwork quilt. The similarly shaped scars on her buttocks and thighs, where they had harvested tissue, were only a little lighter than the rest of her skin.

Every time he looked at her leg his stomach went hollow with pain. He wanted to punch something. Preferably the man responsible for every minute of suffering she’d had to experience. But the bastard was out of reach. Frustration brought a knot to his stomach.

He pushed it away as he heard the distinct cadence of Zoe’s walk. He kept his eyes closed preparing himself for his first glimpse of her in a bathing suit. She’d be beautiful, scars and all.

“Hello, sailor, want to go for a boat ride?” Her voice held a husky note that had him smiling, though he could detect a slight nervous shake in her tone.

He opened his eyes and focused on her flushed face first before sliding his gaze downward. The bathing suit top, covered with hot pink flowers, cupped the generous swell of her breasts and dipped between. Her skin looked smooth as cream and a physical response to the sight raced downward instantly. “Hooyah—”

She laughed at his murmured response. “I’m so glad you’re a breast man.”

As his gaze dipped lower over the slender indention of her belly and the graceful swell of her hips, his arousal intensified. The sheer wrap-around skirt that matched the suit hung low on her hips covering her bad leg, but showing the other. “I think I must be an anything, anytime, anywhere man where you’re concerned, sweetheart.” He caught her around the waist and brought her close so she could feel it for herself. His lips skimmed her brow.

Zoe’s cheeks colored and her eyes darkened. “That could get us arrested,” she teased.

His hand ran down her back to the edge of her suit bottom. “It might be worth it.” A smile tugged at his lips. “But then you’d miss the parasailing adventure I’ve booked for us, and I want you to experience it, Zoe.” He hit the mechanism on his car keys to open the Saturn’s trunk and put in her clothes.

*

As they walked down the block to the beach, Zoe focused on Hawk’s response to the bathing suit to try and offset the tension building inside her. The look on his face as he had run his eyes down her body had gone a long way in doing just that. It was going to be all right. She had to get over being so self-conscious of her injury. If she hoped to continue seeing Hawk, she had to participate in some of the things he enjoyed doing. She would get through this, and it would be a great experience. She really wanted to do this.

“Have you decided whether or not you want to go up alone or with me?” Hawk asked.

“I think I want to do it alone.”

“All right.” He caught her hand in his. “It’s much safer than jumping out of a plane.”

“I think I’d enjoy that too, but I wasn’t certain about the landing part.” She studied his features.

“I’m glad you opted for this instead. The thought of you bailing out of a plane—” He shook his head. “I have to do things in my job that I don’t want to watch you do.”

His admission thrilled her, because it implied that he cared about her, but it also hinted at the danger in which he willingly put himself. “Why do you do what you do, Adam Yazzie?”

He turned his head to look at her. “Because I’m good at it.” His fingers tightened over hers. “And at the end of the day, I know I’ve made a difference, even if no one else knows it.”

“And because you like the excitement of it?”

He smiled. “Sometimes. Then there are times when it’s hot and boring and a pain in the ass.” He guided her around a family of five making their way away from the park, carrying coolers, beach bags, and toys. The smell of sun, sea, and suntan lotion lingered on them like the aroma of simmering spices.

“Brett said he liked it because there were always new challenges being thrown at you, and you had to think fast on your feet.”

“Yeah, there’s that too. I love the training and the focus and the sense of purpose.”

“Does it make you happy?”

“I’ve had moments of pleasure and satisfaction and moments of excitement. And the adrenaline rushes that go along with it all, too.”

She knew he was avoiding using the word danger. The adrenaline rushes would go along with risking his life.

They came out of the shaded side street onto the boardwalk and Zoe was hit by light and colors, sounds and smells, as the beach opened up before them. The cluster of colorful umbrellas, that dotted the horizon, looked like exotic mushrooms sprouting from the pale, yellow ochre sand. A baby, about eighteen months old, her face framed by blond ringlets, shoveled the dry powdery stuff into a pail. A woman sat next to her watching her every move. A large man, his belly already turning red from too much sun, lay sleeping on a quilt. A group of boys whipped by on roller blades, dressed in t-shirts and loosely hanging shorts. The smell of grilling meat hung in the air.

Hawk paused by a streetlight attached to a concrete divider separating the beach from the long strip of stores and restaurants. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tube of sun block. “I don’t want to see you get burnt. Out on the water, you catch more rays than you’re aware you’re getting.” A grin spread slowly across his lips. “I’ll do you, if you’ll do me.”

Zoe fought the urge to roll her eyes. “That ranks right up there with that cheesy line you used on me the second time we met.”

“What was that?” he asked, handing over the tube of sun block when she reached for it.

“Uncle Sam trusts me. Don’t you think you can, too?”

“Well, it worked for the guy in the movie.” He tugged his t-shirt off.

“Women don’t want lines. They want to know you’re truly interested in them.”

He sat down on the railing, and his pale gray gaze settled on her with such intensity a dropping sensation struck her stomach. He drew her between his widespread feet. “I’m very interested in you, Zoe Weaver.”

The look in his eyes sent an arrow of arousal zooming straight between her legs. “Thanks, I’m interested in you, too.” She squirted out a thin stream of sun block, and rubbing her hands together to coat her fingers, spread it over his wide shoulders and down his chest. He felt so warm and alive. Zoe wanted nothing more than to capture this moment and hold it still so she could absorb every nuance. The way he looked against the backdrop of an azure blue sky brushed with wisps of clouds, how dark his hair looked while his pale gray eyes appeared so startlingly light, and how he smelled of sun block, soap, and him, warm and musky. He turned so she could do his back.

She had touched him while making love, but it was different doing so in public. It was a possessive gesture for everyone to see.

Was he aware of that? Did he want that?

Was this all something physical that would burn itself out? Or would he begin to pity her and that would eat away at it until it ended?

His knee was only a few weeks from healing completely and he would go back on the active duty list. After that, he could be called back in at any time. Knowing that affected every experience she had with him. It was as though every moment she was with him, she was saying good-bye. Would she be strong enough to accept it when it really happened?

He turned to face her and squirted sun block out in his palm. “Turn around, Zoe.”

She did as he asked and reached up to hold her ponytail out of the way. She had never been so aware of a man’s touch as he rubbed the sunscreen over her shoulders and down her back. The texture of his hands was slightly rough, callused, their pressure gentle.

“I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”

His tone, so subdued, sent anxiety slicing through her and she turned to look over her shoulder at him. “All right.”

“The injuries, other than your leg, there are no long term effects are there? I mean, down the road—”

The question, so unexpected both gave her hope and made her wary. “No. The rest of me is fine. And as long as I do my stretching exercises, I’ll be able to walk.”

The tension in his expression relaxed and he smiled. His fingers brushed back a long strand from her shoulder. “Your hair has gotten lighter in the sun since you got to California.”

“Yes, I know.” He touched her nose gently with the tip of his finger and spread sun block over the bridge. She smiled at him. For a moment his eyes settled on her lips with a heated look wiping away her tension.

He caught her hand. “Let’s get something to drink and wander down the boardwalk for a few minutes. We have time.”

They people-watched as they walked down the concrete strip running the length of Mission Beach. Teenage girls and boys basked in the sun, or played Frisbee, families clustered together on blankets and towels. She had never seen so many voluptuous women and muscular young men all greased up and worshiping the sun. The air, sun-soaked and moist, caressed her bare skin. No one turned to stare or point and she began to relax.

“It’s not nearly as tough as you were expecting, is it?” he asked.

Zoe shook her head. “No.”

She fell silent for a moment. “Has there been anyone you wanted to settle down with?” she asked, her tone hesitant.

“I was tempted once. I couldn’t be there for her like I should have been and she broke it off.”

A dropping sensation struck Zoe’s stomach. There had been someone special. She caught her breath against the rush of jealousy that made her face burn. Who was this woman?

Her voice came out husky and soft. “I’m sorry.”

He was silent for a moment. “It’s hard for a woman to stick it out alone. She’s met someone else now and moved on.” He turned to look at her. “I couldn’t really blame her. We weren’t engaged, but we’d been talking about living together, then my unit got called up. It gets lonely and it takes a special woman who can stay faithful and who can carry the weight while we’re gone.”

“Like Trish and my mother.”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“She has her job and the kids. It helps when you have family around. You stay focused on what’s important.”

Hawk glanced at her. “Sometimes I forget you’re a Marine Corps brat.”

“It’s been a while since I was one, but the memories are still there.” Some good. Some bad. Being with him these weeks had dulled the sharpness of the bad ones, and the pain. It was clearer to her now why her mother had hung in there and kept things together while her father was overseas.

She looked up as a group of boys rollerbladed passed them.

Hawk caught her against his side as one teenager wheeled close with only inches to spare.

“We’d better head back,” he said.

While they waited for the crew to show, Zoe eyed the powerboat from which they were going to parasail. The thirty-one foot vessel looked sleek and fast. “Have you ever wanted to own a boat?”

“Yeah, but they take some upkeep, and I pretty much spend most of my time working on the house. Maybe once I get the remodeling job finished—”

She looked down the dock and anxiety dropped into her stomach like a lead weight. Dressed in bathing suits and t-shirts, Derrick Armstrong and Marjorie walked down the dock toward them.

Something in her expression must have alerted Hawk, for he turned to follow her line of sight.

He gave her hand a squeeze. “Maybe they’ve just come to see us off.”

After his talk with Derrick the other day, she doubted it.

Hawk focused on the other man his gaze narrow and intent. His expression sent a shiver up her spine.

Chapter Eighteen

‡

“I called two days ago and arranged for us to go out with you guys,” Derrick said with a grin as he and Marjorie joined them.

“That’s great,” Zoe said.

Hearing the strain in her voice, Hawk gave her hand a squeeze. He wasn’t going to allow Derrick Armstrong to spoil their day together. If he said one thing about Zoe’s leg, he’d find himself backstroking back to the beach.

“How’s it going, Derrick? Did you get the car up and running?” he asked.

“Yeah. I had to have a new battery. The old one wouldn’t hold a charge.”

Marjorie commented on Zoe’s bathing suit and while the women talked, Hawk took the opportunity to ask, “What about the other problem we spoke about? Have you had time to check into things there?”

Derrick’s jaw tensed. “Yeah, I’m taking care of things.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” If he saw one hint he’d left another bruise on Marjorie, he was calling the MP’s.

“Marjorie’s wearing her bathing suit. You can check her out.”

Marjorie turned to say something to Derrick, and upon seeing his sullen expression, her smile died and her features took on a tight anxious look.

Hawk’s stomach tightened. He’d give Derrick time to decompress before they left them. That way he wouldn’t have an excuse for taking his anger at Hawk out on her later. Damn, this balancing act was the pits. He could only imagine what Marjorie had been going through.

“We’re here to shake off some stress and have a good time. No worries today, ladies,” Hawk said, his tone light. “What do you say after our adventure on sea and air, we look for a good restaurant on land and pig out?”

“What do you think, Derrick?” Marjorie asked.

Derrick smiled, seeming to put his anger aside. “Sure, sounds like a plan to me.”

The boat crew arrived, and after a brief introduction the three men did a safety check of the vessel, and handed out life jackets. Hawk guided Zoe to a seat on a wooden bench close by. Derrick and Marjorie sat down next to them.

One of the crewmembers approached, his hair streaked white by the sun. He flipped a baseball hat onto his head and adjusted his sunglasses. “We’re waiting for a couple and their twelve-year-old. They called and said they’d be a few minutes late. If it’s all right with you four, we’d like to give them ten minutes.”

“Sure, we’re not in any hurry,” Hawk said.

“Thanks. As soon as they get here, we’ll do a small run through of how everything works, and get underway.” He wandered back to the boat.

“How’s your brother?” Marjorie asked Zoe. The woman shoved her sunglasses further up her nose and tucked a long strand of brown hair behind her ear. Her windbreaker covered her modest one-piece bathing suit as well as her arms preventing Hawk from seeing how the bruise on her wrist was healing, or if she had any new ones.

“Brett is doing well. His vitals and brain activity are normal.” The brevity of Zoe’s answer had Hawk eyeing her.

If Derrick was the man responsible for Brett’s condition, and he found out they were trying to revive him with drugs, would he try something more to prevent it? Did Brett know something about one of his teammates that could threaten one of them or his career? The questions just kept circling in his thoughts with no answers. Damn it, why wouldn’t Cutter wake up?

“Has Lang got anything off the tape from the hospital?” Derrick asked.

Hawk said, “We’re supposed to go over to his house tomorrow and view the images he’s managed to freeze frame and enhance from the tape. There are none of the face, but we might be able to figure out who the attacker is by body type and movement.”

Derrick nodded. “Sounds like a plan. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

Hawk studied the man. Would he offer that if he were guilty? Or would he do so just to mislead them? Could they be suspicious of Derrick because of his anger management problems, and ignoring someone else who could be the real threat? Anxiety sliced through him at the thought.

They couldn’t guard Brett twenty-four hours a day. The nurses were still on alert. He’d be all right. And Derrick was here with them.

Tension tightened the muscles in Zoe’s body resting against his, and he looked down at her. He read worry and guilt in her expression. “You’re supposed to be relaxing today,” he murmured softly. “Brett will be fine, and he wouldn’t begrudge you one afternoon of pleasure, Zoe.”

Her smile was a little forced, but she nodded.

Marjorie touched her arm briefly. “He’ll wake up soon, Zoe.”

Zoe smiled at her. “I hope so. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, been busy at work. I have to go to San Francisco in a few days on a business trip. I’m hoping Derrick can get leave to join me. It’s just overnight, but San Francisco is really interesting, and I think it would be fun.”

How Marjorie could continue to try and build a relationship with someone who had physically abused her was beyond Hawk’s understanding. Where was her family when all this was going down? Why weren’t they trying to intercede?

“San Francisco sounds great.” Zoe said. “I’ve heard it’s a beautiful city.”

“Before you go home, you and Hawk need to make a trip there. It really is a special place,” Marjorie said, her tone enthusiastic.

“As soon as Brett’s back on the road to recovery, maybe we will,” Hawk said. “There are some fantastic restaurants there.”

“Have you thought about relocating here, Zoe?” Derrick asked.

The pounding of running feet shook the dock and echoed across the water and back. Both the noise and the late couple’s arrival delayed her reply.

Hawk studied her face. Would she want to relocate? Their relationship was so new they hadn’t even begun to consider that possibility. They’d just been so into each other, physically, and discovering each other in other ways, they hadn’t discussed anything serious. Did Zoe see him as someone she wanted to settle down with?

Every time his job came up, anxiety crept into her expression, her body language. After losing her father, and Brett being injured, he understood why. But could she love him despite what he did for a living? Did he want her to? Could he stick it out with her? What if something were to happen to her while he was “in the real world”? His stomach knotted.

The boat crew motioned them forward for a quick demonstration of how the parachute and harness worked and the safety procedures, and then they boarded the boat. Hawk kept his hand on her hip to steady her against the sway of the deck and guided her forward to a seat at the bow. Derrick and Marjorie followed with the other couple and the young girl.

A crewmember shoved off, and the captain turned the boat into the bay. They idled past several large multi-million dollar houses, their back yards facing the water. A pelican, perched atop a private dock piling, stretched with a ruffle and flap of feathers that only hinted at the length and breadth of his wingspan. He opened his beak as though suppressing a yawn.

Zoe laughed and pointed to him. “There’s the life. Hanging out in the sun all day, all the fish you can eat, and your only responsibilities are taking naps and impressing the lady pelicans in the neighborhood.”

Hawk smiled at the comment. “How do you know it’s a male?”

“He has that macho ‘come over to my post, baby,’ look in his eyes.”

Hawk laughed.

On a jutting finger of land, two sea lions barked a greeting as they passed. The animals dove into the water, their brownish-gray bodies shiny, slick, and limber as they streaked through the liquid.

“It seems the wild life is coming out just for you today. It’s rare for them to come this far into the bay,” Hawk said.

“What are those bushes growing close to the water?”

“They’re sea grapes,” Marjorie answered. “Their leaves are usually light green but they’ve turned dark purplish-red because we’ve had a recent frost.”

“Marjorie knows all about plants,” Derrick said. “She’s been planting some flowers around the front of the house.”

Hawk heard pride in Derrick’s voice when he spoke about Marjorie. How could the man care for her and hurt her?

Hawk spread Zoe’s windbreaker over her shoulders and she turned to look up at him. “We’re getting ready to pick up speed. You might get a little chilly.” A smile spread her lips and brought quick heat to his skin. He helped her don the jacket over-top the life preserver and slipped an arm around her pulling her against his side. She leaned into him.

The boat’s nose rose as its speed increased and they headed through the channel. To the right, Mission Beach came into sight. Palms etched a distinctive silhouette against the horizon, their frilly green tops in frivolous opposition to the long straight buildings that stretched in a parallel strip behind the beach.

Turning to Hawk, Zoe raised her voice above the wind. “It really is a beautiful place.”

“Yeah, it is. Just wait until you get up in the air.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I want you to go up with me.”

He studied her face. “All right. You’re not afraid, are you?”

She shook her head. “I just want to share it with you.”

He smiled and tightened his arm around her.

The beach grew distant and the boat slowed as it neared a buoy. The metal float bobbed and weaved in the vessel’s wake. Perched atop the device, sea lions clung to it as though they were riding a carnival ride, and ignored the humans looking at them.

“They’re so used to people they don’t pay much attention to us, unless of course you’re stupid enough to try and pet or catch one,” Derrick said. “You’d get bitten for sure.”

The boat headed further out to sea.

“Who wants to go first?” A crewman said from behind them.

“We will,” Derrick said, raising a hand. He grasped Marjorie’s arm and the couple moved aft.

“Have fun,” Zoe said.

Zoe swiveled around to watch and laid an elbow on the back of the seat. Hawk turned as well. One at a time, Marjorie then Derrick stepped up on the slightly raised flight deck and were secured into a seat harness that clipped them to the parachute side by side. The two-toned blue and white chute already filling with air billowed behind the boat. As the vessel moved forward, a winch fed the rope out, and the couple rose slowly into the sky.

Hawk cradled her back against his chest. “This really is easier than jumping out of the belly of a plane,” he said against her ear and fought the urge to nuzzle the tender spot beneath that he knew made her shiver.

She rested her hands on his arms. “Have you ever had trouble getting your chute to deploy?” she asked.

If he told her the truth, she’d freak out for certain. She might leave him…she might never give him a chance.

“No. If there’s trouble with the main chute, there’s a back up.”

Even with the danger involved, what he did was as much a part of him as who he was, he couldn’t change that. If she couldn’t accept his being a SEAL, he’d have to break it off. He’d have no choice. An ache settled just beneath his breastbone.

Maybe he should break things off now and save them both from heartache. Before either one of them got in any deeper. He studied her profile. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give up on her. Zoe wasn’t a quitter. He had to believe that. Even if he was setting himself up for a harder fall than a three thousand foot parachute jump.

Her shoulders grew taut, the tension in her body mounting. She turned to look up at him and started to say something then changed her mind. After a pause she asked, “You’re really careful aren’t you?”

The desperation he read in her face gripped him by the throat. “Yeah. We’re trained to be very, very careful and to stay calm during emergencies.”

She nodded and rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. Hawk’s lips brushed her temple with a sigh of relief.

They had dodged a bullet, for now at least.

*

The low level whine of the winch being activated drew Zoe’s attention to the back of the boat. She watched as Derrick and Marjorie were slowly reeled back in. The vessel came to a stop.

“Your turn,” Derrick said as he joined them at the front of the boat.

“You’re going to love it, Zoe,” Marjorie enthused. “You can see all the way to Mexico from up there.”

Zoe’s legs were shaky, not from fear or excitement about the flight, but the sudden serious tension between her and Hawk. There had been a moment when she had wanted to say, “Why do you have to be a SEAL? Why do you have to do a dangerous job?” Something in his face had strangled the words. If she said them, if she challenged what he was, it would be over.

The military wasn’t just a job. It was a way of life. It was a calling, like being a minister or a Peace Corps worker. It had to be, otherwise, why do the job? To ask him to give it up would be like asking him to stop breathing.

She got to her feet and shed her sandals and the wrap around skirt that matched her bathing suit. “Could you hold on to this for me, Marjorie?”

“Sure.” Marjorie’s eyes settled on her thigh where a rectangular scar, pale and shiny, defaced the top of her leg.

As Zoe walked forward, she imagined every eye on the boat homed in on her left calf. She avoided looking at the other passengers. It didn’t matter what they thought. As long as Hawk could look at her and still want her, nothing else was important. His grasp on her hand never faltered as he followed her aft to the flight deck.

The young blond crewman offered her a hand up onto the platform. “Hold onto my shoulder while I help you with the harness,” he instructed. “All you have to do is sit and enjoy. The parachute will do all the work.” He clipped the harness to the rigging. A crewman stood behind them controlling the chute as the wind pulled and tugged on it. Hawk braced his feet as the man strapped his harness and secured it to the tandem bar. The boat started forward.

At the blonde crewman’s nod, the other released his hold on the rigging. The chute, already filled with air, shot upward lifting them from the deck. The wind whipped about them as they rose. The ocean stretched away into the horizon disappearing into a bluish-white haze. Hawk’s hand covered hers on the rigging and she turned her head to look at him.

He shouted above the wind. “You kick ass, baby.” His grin projected equal parts amusement and pleasure. “You just strutted your stuff like a model and every guy on the boat was looking at your perfect backside.”

“No they weren’t.”

“Yes, they were. I didn’t know whether to be jealous or proud.”

Zoe burst out laughing. “Only you could come up with something like that. You are shining me on, Lieutenant.”

“I’m not. They weren’t looking at your leg, they were checking you out.”

“Great. Now I’ll be worried about everyone looking at my behind.”

“That’s what guys do, Zoe. I checked it out the first time you walked away from me, and every time since.”

She grinned and shook her head.

The sound of the wind grew the higher they floated, making talking impossible. The buoyancy of flying free intensified.

On the right, Mission Bay circled around, a maze of cerulean water. Red and white buildings on the boardwalk became a miniature shopping village. The roller coaster at Belmont Park looked like a toy as the cars rose then whipped around the tracks. San Diego stretched outward to the southeast beyond it.

Down the coast Ocean Beach and Point Loma, lightly textured strips of green and yellow-brown, stretched against the bluish-gray water. A distant pier shot like a compass needle pointing out to sea. Along the sand crusted coastline, white foam frosted the waves like powdered sugar.

Hawk pointed downward and Zoe looked below. A pod of dolphin streaked through the water then bobbed to the surface in staggered synchronization. Their strength and speed in the water was impressive even from up so high.

The look of interest on his face as he watched them brought a smile to her lips. Tenderness swelled inside her. This passion, this emotion he inspired, filled the emptiness inside her in a way she’d never experienced before.

Hawk pointed toward the city indicating several places of interest. Zoe was as much aware of his every look and gesture as she was the scenery. They were together, yet separate, and totally in communion with one another without words.

When the chute started being towed in from below, she sighed.

Back to the real world. Back to the hospital and her brother who still hadn’t woken up. Back to Derrick and Marjorie and the special tension their association with them created.

Back to this tug of war that never stopped between her feelings for Hawk and what he did.

She was in love with Adam “Hawk” Yazzie.

But if he asked her to commit herself, she didn’t know if she could live with this feeling of constant dread, in order to be with him. But could she live without him?

She had to make a choice.

Chapter Nineteen

‡

Hawk studied the shelves of books, CDs, and DVDs on either side of the TV. There was no rhyme or reason to their arrangement. A collection of framed drawings, obviously done by the children, set atop the shelf in an arrangement. It was the normal clutter of family that his house lacked. And it was part of what made the Marks house so welcoming. The place, enjoyed by the whole team, was a kind of hub where they all met, probably more often than Trish would like.

“This is what I’ve got, Hawk,” Lang said as he hunched over the computer keys. With a click of the mouse, he enlarged the image of a man dressed in hospital scrubs on the computer screen. He then pushed a button on a signal splicer to project the image onto the large forty-eight inch television screen.

“He has a badge on his pocket but it’s turned to one side, and I can’t get the name. I’ve tried every angle in several images. Even if I could, it could be one already attached to the scrubs before he put them on.”

“What about the face?” Hawk asked.

Lang changed the image on the screen. “He has his head down, and the camera only picked up his hat. He’s carrying a basket just like every other lab tech.”

Damn it, he wanted to know if one of his men was involved, yet dreaded it. Zoe laid a hand on his back in support, and he glanced in her direction.

“What about the body type?”

“Nothing stands out. He’s about six feet. Could be any one of the guys. There’s not enough of his hair showing to identify him.”

Lang rolled back from the computer desk and looked up at him. “There ought to be a schedule for blood work being done. Has security checked it out?”

“Yeah, but there was some mix up as to who drew blood that day because one of the techs had a family emergency and had to leave. And they’re not certain who filled in for her.”

“Shit,” Lang swore then glanced up at Zoe. “Sorry.”

“I’ve heard the word before. Even said it a time or two myself, Langley,” she said with a smile and a shrug.

“The initials of the tech should be on the samples. They have to date them and keep a record,” he said.

“The dates are there but they’re entered under the original lab techs ID.” Hawk raked his hands over his close-cropped hair.

“It sounds like someone’s going to get an ass chewing when they find out who really drew the blood.”

“Possibly.” Hawk rubbed a hand over his jaw. “But it doesn’t shed any light on who hit Cutter. Have you thought of any moments of friction between Cutter and any other member of the team?”

Lang shook his head. “No.”

“All right.

Hawk glanced in Zoe’s direction. She wasn’t going to like it, but he had to talk to Doc and try and rule him out once and for all. And he’d have to do it alone. He turned his attention back to Langley. “I have a few more things I have to check out today. Maybe that will clear everything up.”

“I’m here if you need anything else.”

Hawk nodded and slapped him on the shoulder.

“What’s next?” Zoe asked as they left the Marks’ house.

“I’m going to drop you by the hospital then go over to Doc’s apartment. I need to talk to him.”

Zoe’s brows drew together in a frown and her expression grew anxious. “I understand why you have to go, but promise me you’ll call me as soon as you get there, and as soon as you’re finished.”

He looped an arm around her waist. “You got it.”

“You’ll be careful?” She sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than ask a question.

Was she finally accepting that he could take care of himself? He hoped so. “Always, Zoe.”

She tucked a long strand of hazelnut hair behind her ear. She looked younger with her hair down, more vulnerable. He tugged her close and kissed her. The kiss, and her response, built from softly comforting to passionate in only seconds.

“Are you trying to distract me, Lieutenant?” she asked, her tone breathless, her hands moving restlessly up and down his back.

He rubbed his cheek against hers. “Yeah, is it working?”

“A little.”

“A little.” He raised his brows. “I must be losing my touch.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “After I’m through talking to Doc, and you spend some time with Brett, we’ll see exactly how distracting I can be.”

A smile curved her lips but anxiety was still reflected in her eyes.

“It’s going to be all right, Zoe.”

She straightened her shoulders. “Doc doesn’t strike me as the type to turn on a buddy. I mean—he swims around in the pool with the Marks’ kids like he’s one of them. I just can’t picture him doing anything to hurt Brett, or you.”

“I can’t either, but something is going on with him.” He guided her down the sidewalk again.

Zoe grabbed his arm stopping him. “And you know this how?”

“I called Bowie and asked if he’d heard from him. He said he talked to him nearly every day, but that Doc was sticking close to home. Something’s wrong. I’m going over to find out what it is.”

“I think you need to. If he’s having some kind of health issues, you may need to get him to see a doctor. And if it’s something Bowie’s keeping close to his chest, and didn’t feel comfortable sharing with you, Doc will have to tell you himself.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

*

Standing in front of the hospital, worry gripped Zoe’s stomach like a clenched fist as she watched Hawk’s car disappear around the corner. Please keep him safe, she breathed heavenward, then limped toward the main entrance of the hospital. Once through the glass doors, she withdrew her visitor’s pass from her pocket and showed it to the guard, then moved on to the elevators.

On the way up, she watched the numbers change on the panel and braced herself before seeing Brett. Now he had a feeding tube to insure he had enough nutrition. Just seeing that tube going into his nose made her flinch each time. The day they’d put it in, she’d realized they were losing ground, and no matter how hard she’d fought to hold onto it, a little of her hope had bled away.

Pain welled inside her and she leaned against the elevator wall fighting back the tears as despair threatened to overwhelm her. How much longer would they continue to care for Brett here? How much more time would they give him to wake up?

When the doors opened before her, she forced herself to step out. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want her brother to be here. If only she could take him home.

Angela waved from the nurse’s station. Zoe forced a smile to her lips and returned the gesture. As she continued down the hall her steps slowed then came to a stop just outside the door. It was so hard to face this day after day. With every day that passed, it got harder and harder to believe he would get better. Fear ate at her hope like acid.

Why wouldn’t he wake up? How could his EEG’s be normal when he wouldn’t open his eyes? It had been a month, what was he waiting for? Why couldn’t he find his way back to them? The ache the questions left in their wake was almost unbearable.

He didn’t give up on you, she reminded herself. Yeah, but at least I tried. God damn it, why wouldn’t he try?

Zoe shoved open the door with enough force it hit the wall. She froze. A man dressed in blue scrubs stabbed a needle into the I.V. running into Brett’s arm and pushed the plunger.

Fear catapulted through her. Her calf burned in protest as she broke into a staggering run. “What are you doing? Who are you?” she demanded. “What did you just give my brother?”

The man jerked the needle up narrowly averting stabbing her. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he braced a hand against her shoulder holding her off. “I’m Ensign Earnest Cramer, R.N. I’ve been transferred from the second floor.”

“It’s alright, Zoe,” Angela spoke from the door. “Ensign Cramer is who he says he is.”

Relief as intense as the fear shot through Zoe’s system. Tears burned her eyes. Suddenly light headed, she bent at the waist to steady herself and grasped the railing on the bed.

“Geez—Zo—Keep it down would you. What are you yelling about?”

She jerked. The sound of Brett’s voice weak but distinct stole her breath.

He raised a shaky hand to rub the stubble on his jaw, his fingers following the feeding tube running into his nose before his hand collapsed onto his chest. “I feel like shit.”

“Brett—” She shoved past the male nurse. “Oh God, Brett—” She leaned over the rail and looked into her brother’s pale blue eyes. He focused on her face with a confused frown. Beard stubble dusted his jaw and his upper lip, and his eyes looked swollen as though he’d slept really hard, but she read recognition in his gaze as he looked at her. He’d never looked more wonderful to her. Tears of joy blurred her vision as she embraced him. “Thank, God. Thank, God.” A sob clogged her throat cutting her words to a whisper. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

*

Hawk frowned at the collection of newspapers heaped on the apartment stoop. Maybe Doc had gone on leave for a few days. He turned to look for his jeep in the parking lot. It sat parked in front of the apartment, the SEAL trident symbol on the front license plate making it easy to recognize.

Hawk knocked on the door and waited. After the fourth attempt went without an answer, he reached for the knob. It turned easily and a twinge of concern had him pushing the door open. He took in the scattered newspapers, and magazines, the empty beer cans and pizza boxes. The living room with its long leather sofa and two recliners wasn’t usually inspection neat, but he had never seen it look as though a hand grenade had been tossed into it.

He took a step inside the apartment. “Yo, Doc,” he called out.

“Just a minute,” a voice came from down the hall straight ahead.

Hawk drew a relieved breath. For a minute—

“Hey.” Doc appeared from the passageway. He was dressed in warm-ups and a t-shirt. The front of the shirt was stained wet with sweat and he was breathing hard. A heavy beard darkened his jaw and his eyes were red rimmed and blood shot.

Hawk stared at him for a second before he could get his thoughts together. “Am I interrupting something, man?”

“Naw, I was just working out in the back bedroom on my machine and didn’t hear you knock. Come on in.”

Hawk stepped further into the room.

Doc grabbed a stack of newspapers off the couch clearing a space for him. “I’ve been busy and not here much. Been working out a lot.”

Hawk looked more closely at him. He did appear to be bulking up. That added layer of muscle looked in total opposition to the rest of his appearance. “Looks like you had a party last night. How come you didn’t invite Zoe and me?”

“Naw, I just haven’t cleaned up much. Can I get you something to drink?”

Hawk raised a hand in a negative gesture. “I’m good. We haven’t seen you around and I was out, thought I’d come by.”

“How’s Cutter?” Doc asked.

“He’s still the same.”

Doc nodded. His expression became wooden and his throat worked as he swallowed.

Hawk leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and laced his hands. “What’s going on, Doc? You look like hell.”

The man frowned as though in pain then wiped a hand over his face. “I got dumped as soon as I got back from Iraq.”

Hawk drew a deep breath as relief eased the tightness of his shoulders and back. Thank God it wasn’t drugs.

“I got hooked on this girl, Patricia, before we left the states. Bowie was still hound dogging, but I was keeping things exclusive with her. Had been for about six months. I really thought we had something special going. We emailed and wrote each other the whole time I was gone.” He shook his head. “As soon as I got back, she broke it off.” He leaned forward to rest his head in his hands then rubbed his fingers through his hair making the auburn strands stand out in all directions.

“I’ve been there myself, Doc, I know how it is.” Hawk looked around the room. Depression could do a lot of things—but this looked like more. “I know it isn’t easy. But you have to pull it together and put it behind you, man.”

He couldn’t believe he was saying those words. They were so damned meaningless. They were supposed to be the toughest of the tough, the ultimate warriors. But, damn it was hard not to be able to find someone who understood that they were people first, and just as vulnerable as everyone else.

He could save lives, protect those weaker than himself, lay his life down in the defense of his country. But he couldn’t ask a woman to share his life when he wasn’t there half the time. And he couldn’t be there for her when she needed him. It was too much to expect.

Doc leaned back in the chair, his green eyes looked old and tired. “It was a hard tour, with Cutter and everything, then getting dumped right after sort of threw me.”

“I know that feeling.” He caught his breath.

Doc smiled, but the gesture looked forced. “I talked to Bowie this morning. He’s mourning the fact that you stole his girl right out from under his nose.”

“His girl, huh?”

“Yeah, he thinks Zoe’s something special.”

Hawk smiled. “Yeah, she is.”

“Actually, all the guys seem pretty crazy about her. You mess up with her and you’d better watch your back.”

Hawk waved a hand. “All right, enough already.”

Doc smiled again, this time with a little more sincere amusement. “It’ll be interesting to see what her mom says when she gets back from Kentucky. You do know that state is in the Bible Belt. They don’t take too kindly to men bopping their daughters without some kind of proposal first.”

Hawk chuckled, though a niggling feeling of panic caught at his throat. He suppressed the urge to swallow. “I’ve heard that somewhere. I’ve already locked up all the firearms, just in case.” Clara was going to be royally pissed, no matter how Zoe tried to shrug it off. He dreaded the confrontation.

“Yeah, this coming from the guy who warned all of us about what kind of girl she is.” Doc’s smile dimmed, and he turned serious again. “Don’t screw it up, Hawk. And if you’re going to do the right thing—then do it quick, so she won’t feel like you care less for her than you do the job.”

Had that been what had caused Doc’s break up? He didn’t want to ask and poke at a wound already raw.

Doc’s suggestion suddenly hit him right between the eyes. Did he care more about being a SEAL than he did for Zoe? He rubbed the back of his neck. Did she think that? Was it just worry he read in her face every time he mentioned his job? Or something else? He understood her reservations, but they were only going to be together while she remained in California. Weren’t they? The niggling feeling of uncertainty in his gut raised his heart rate.

He dragged his attention back to Doc. “Why don’t you get dressed and come to the hospital with me? Afterwards we’ll grill out and have a beer and you can visit with Zoe and me. We can even call and invite some of the other guys over.”

Doc hesitated then nodded. “I’ve been to the hospital, but only a couple of times. It’s tough looking at one of our buds, knowing it could be one of us laying there.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Doc clenched his fist on the arm of his chair. “God damn, Cutter. What was he thinking? That sorry SOB—”

Shocked, Hawk frowned at the sudden explosion of raw anger. His cell phone went off, and he swore at the intrusion. When he looked at the screen a dropping sensation hit his stomach. It wasn’t Zoe’s cell, it was the hospital. He flipped the phone open and held it to his ear. His smile spread and spread until he knew he was grinning like a fool. By the time he closed it he had to swallow several times before he could speak.

“Let’s go ask him. Cutter just woke up.”

Chapter Twenty

‡

Just listening to Brett’s voice as he spoke to Hawk and Doc had Zoe’s throat closing together. Her emotions seesawed between joy and fear.

The feeding tube remained in place, just in case. But Brett seemed completely fine. Though he was weak, he could move his arms and legs. His memory for people and faces appeared unaffected. He didn’t recall what had happened that had put him in the hospital, but his recollection of the days preceding the accident seemed to be intact.

“Have you called your mom, Zoe?” Doc asked as they stood together next to Brett’s bed.

“Yes. I held the phone so Brett could talk to her.” She swallowed against the knot of reaction that rose in her throat. “She’s going to come out on the first available flight, but has to go back to my sister’s for a few more weeks.”

Doc looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot. “Are you all right?” she asked. “We haven’t seen you since the night you guys finished the sheetrock in Hawk’s rec room.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Now that Cutter’s awake maybe the team can get back in sync. We’ve been out of rhythm without him and Hawk. How did the parasailing thing go?”

“It was great.”

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Looks as though you’re getting a tan and your hair’s sun streaked.”

Zoe nodded. “We’ve been grilling out a lot, and I catch a few rays while Hawk’s burning whatever meat we’re having.”

Doc laughed.

“I heard that remark,” Hawk said from where he stood at Cutter’s bedside. “You’re not going to let me live that down are you?”

“I don’t have anything else to razz you about. You do everything else so well.”

Brett’s gaze traveled from Hawk to her, and she could read the question in his face. Zoe stepped to the bed. She cupped his cheek, and brushed the hollow of his cheek with her thumb. “Mom and I were staying at Hawk’s house when Sharon’s baby came, and she had to leave and go back to Lexington.”

“What about my apartment?” he asked.

“We’ve been by to check on it and air it out. Hawk thought it would be a bit cramped for me and Mom so he offered us a place to stay.”

Brett’s attention shifted to Hawk. “Thanks, man.”

Hawk laid a hand on his shoulder. “No problem.”

“You said you hurt your knee.” Brett stopped to rest between sentences. “When are you going back on active duty?”

“Well, actually I start back Monday. The paperwork is piling up, and I’m starting another language class.”

Zoe’s stomach dropped at the news and she pressed her hand to her midriff. She knew it was coming. She just hadn’t expected it so quickly.

Hawk continued, “I can’t do any running until the doc signs off on me, but I’ve already been doing some light weight lifting. Instead of running, I’m doing the exercise bike to see how my knee stands up. Another two weeks and I should be back to normal.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Cutter said. “No one’s told me what happened.”

Hawk and Doc looked at one another.

“There’s time to talk about it later, Cutter,” Hawk said.

Angela, Brett’s nurse, came into the room. “I know you’re all excited about Ensign Weaver being awake, but you don’t want to tire him too much. You need to give him some time to rest. You can come back for visiting hours at seven.”

Reluctantly Zoe nodded and moved to the bed to embrace Brett.

If he went to sleep again, would he be able to wake up? What if as soon as they had weaned him from the medication, he just dropped off and never awoke again?

“I’m afraid to leave him,” Zoe said, as they stepped out in the hall. Hawk reached for her, and she buried her face against his chest. The harder she tried not to cry, the faster the tears streamed down her face to wet his t-shirt. All the stress and grief she’d suppressed for weeks seemed to rise up inside her. Hawk guided her down the hall away from Brett’s door to the nurse’s station. She’d never needed his comfort and support as much as she did right now.

Moments passed before she regained control. When she finally drew back, Doc offered her some tissue and an awkward pat on the back.

Angela exited Brett’s room and started toward them. She looked at Zoe and came directly to her. “He’s going to be fine. He’s even flirting with me, already.”

“He won’t go back to sleep and—”

“We’re keeping him on the meds for a while to be certain, but the chances are very, very slim. Whatever injury his brain sustained, it’s obviously healed itself. His EEG’s look good. His blood work is normal. You’ve already heard what the doctor said when he did his neurological exam. We’re going to do another CAT Scan and a few other tests, and we’ll have the results tomorrow.”

They couldn’t ask for any more than that. Everything else was up to Brett.

“Come back at seven after you’ve had a chance to regroup. You need that as much as he does.”

Zoe nodded and wiped her eyes then dragged a smile to her lips. “Thank you, Angela.”

The woman grasped her forearm and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll keep a close eye on him, and I’ll call you if I think he needs you.”

Zoe drew a bracing breath, feeling a little calmer. “All right.”

*

Hawk closed the car door and put the key in the ignition.

“You guys can drop me back off at the apartment if you want,” Doc said from the back seat. “Now that Cutter’s awake, you’ll have people you’ll want to call, and stuff you’ll need to do.”

Hawk looked over his shoulder at him. “We have to eat first. You can share a meal with us, then I’ll run you home.”

Doc nodded.

Hawk gave Zoe’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Her eyes and nose were red from crying and she still looked a little shaky, but she offered him a smile.

On the way home, he kept a running dialogue with Doc about the best restaurants in San Francisco, and their locations. Marjorie’s suggestion of a romantic weekend trip had taken root. He wanted to have the whole thing planned before he sprang it on Zoe as a surprise. Now that Cutter was awake, they’d have no reason not to go.

The house smelled like the spices and cooking tomatoes, Zoe had put in the crock-pot that morning for some kind of pasta dish. Her being here had made the house feel more like a home. Though he had been trying to build one by himself, it still retained a little of the aura of a crash pad for when he was in the states, or doing more training.

“How’s the rec room coming?” Doc asked.

“I’ve put primer on the walls, but I haven’t gotten them painted yet.”

Zoe turned and grasped Doc’s arm, the unexpected movement catching Hawk’s attention.

“Did you do something to hurt my brother, Doc?”

The question dropped like a bomb from the blue had Hawk’s heart stuttering. She was standing too close if the man decided to go off. Hawk stepped forward and reached for her arm.

Doc’s features went still with shock then paled. “No-no I didn’t.” He shook his head, but there was something resigned in the way he said it. And instead of the instant anger Hawk had expected, he slumped down on the couch and ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t hurt him, but I didn’t do all I could to save him either. Not like Hawk.”

Zoe eased down in one of the chairs as though her legs had given out.

Hawk shook his head. What the man said wasn’t exactly right. He was the team’s best medic. Though they all knew how to render first aid and give pain meds in a pinch, Doc knew his stuff. “You kept him going until we got to the extraction point, Doc. You bound my knee and kept me going until then, too.”

“But I didn’t go into the building after him. I knew the damn thing was going to blow at any minute, and I couldn’t get my ass moving to go after him. I couldn’t even get my mouth to work long enough to tell you he’d gone back in.” Doc’s eyes were glassy with emotion as he looked up. “All I could think about was my girl and how much I wanted to be home with her. And I froze.”

He grasped his head as though in pain. “I just froze.” All the guilt and shame the man was feeling was right there on his face. “It was like it was all happening in slow motion. Then suddenly you were going back in and we waited for it to go up with both of you inside. Each second seemed like an hour. Then you were out, running with Cutter thrown over your shoulders and you had barely made it clear when the charges went off.”

“You were down and covered in rubble. I still couldn’t move. I thought you were both dead. Bowie dragged me over to where you were. When we uncovered you, you both looked like ghosts covered with gray dust. It wasn’t until then that I could really move again, I could really even breathe.”

“On the way back in the chopper, you gave us both pain meds and started an IV on Cutter, Doc. You did everything you were supposed to do,” Hawk said. And he could have killed Cutter then if he’d really wanted him dead. Had they been suspicious for nothing? Was Cutter’s injury an accident and no one’s fault? If he’d been on his way out, why the hell had he gone back into the building?

“I could have gotten him out before the charges went off, long before you had to go back in for him. I just sat there and stared at my watch as the seconds ticked away. Thirty seconds—a minute—two. I don’t know how long.” He fisted his hands in his hair and pulled.

Hawk dragged a large ottoman over to sit on in front of him. “How many times have you dragged an injured man to safety, Doc? How many times have you kept one of us up and going, even when we were injured or sick? We’re all called on to do extraordinary things.”

Doc shook his head and made a chopping motion with his hand. “I’m a SEAL for God’s sake. I’m not supposed to freeze up when things get tough. We train so that doesn’t happen.”

“But we’re all human, not supermen. And we all have our fears, the fears that make you hear a hollow ringing in your ears and feel as though you’re going to heave. Mine is jumping out of an airplane at three thousand feet. I bet I can guess what yours is.”

Doc drew a deep breath, and his features began to relax by degrees.

Hawk leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What would have made Cutter go back into the building knowing the timers were running out?”

Doc clenched his hands on the arms of the chair. “I don’t know. The crazy son-of-a-bitch.” There was anger and guilt and pain all mixed up in the exclamation, but it sounded as though some of the anguish had leached out of Doc’s voice now that he’d talked about it.

“Did you tell Captain Addison when he interviewed you?”

“Yeah, I told him Cutter went back into the building, but I didn’t know the reason. And I told him how you went in after him.”

“What was Brett’s worst fear?” Zoe asked, her voice quiet. She had remained so still, so quiet, the entire time he had been talking to Doc, it drew both their attention.

“I don’t know,” Doc said.

“I just thought—I don’t think my brother had a death wish. And he had to have a strong motivation for going back into the building.”

Hawk met her gaze. If Doc’s fear kept him out of the building, maybe Brett’s had had something to do with his going back in.

Doc leaned back in his chair. He looked exhausted. “Since he doesn’t remember that day at all, I don’t know how we’ll ever know.”

“How long’s it been since you slept, Doc?” Hawk asked.

“I don’t know.”

“After we eat maybe you can crash in my room for a while, before I take you home.”

“Yeah, all right.”

The fact that the man wasn’t arguing, pointed out how vulnerable he was right now.

Zoe rose to her feet and offered him a hand. “If you feel up to it, I’d appreciate your taking over the grill. I don’t trust Hawk not to burn the beautiful steaks I’ve had marinating all day.”

Doc looked up at her and for a moment Hawk saw his eyes grow glassy as though tears weren’t far off. With an effort he shook it off, took Zoe’s hand, and got to his feet. “I’ll make sure they don’t burn.”

“Good.”

After he had the grill lit, and the steaks on, Hawk put Doc in charge of watching while he came back into the kitchen for a moment of privacy with Zoe.

“He would have no more hurt Brett than you,” she said softly as she tore lettuce up in a bowl.

“No.” He helped himself to a beer from the fridge. “If he’d really wanted to, he had too good an opportunity to do it before we made it back to the hospital.”

“All that guilt because he didn’t live up to his idea of what he was supposed to be. You guys carry a heavy weight with that SEAL code of honor.”

He didn’t know whether to read criticism into the remark or not. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

She rested her hands on the table and swallowed as though it were difficult. “Thank you for going into that building and saving my brother’s life.” Her voice dwindled away toward the end as she struggled to maintain her composure.

Hawk rested an arm around her waist and brushed her temple with his lips. “He’d have done the same for me, Zoe.”

She turned and slipped her arms around his waist and held on tight for several moments. She looked up at him. “Wonder if Brett will ever remember?”

“I don’t know, baby. We’ll have to wait and see.”

“Do you think we were suspicious and worried for nothing?”

Hawk wished he could say yes. But that handprint on Brett’s cheek still bothered him. It bothered him a lot.

Chapter Twenty-One

‡

Zoe reached for her mother’s hand as she stood beside her in the elevator. “They’re going to take the feeding tube out tomorrow. He’s complaining about not getting any solid food.”

Her mother’s eyes grew suspiciously bright. “We’re so very fortunate. God has smiled on us, Zoe.”

Zoe gave the hand she held a squeeze. “Yes, he has.”

The elevator doors opened and Zoe bent to pick up the huge basket at her feet and they stepped out into the hall. Three nurses at the station smiled and called out words of congratulation.

Zoe placed the basket on the counter while her mother continued down the hall. She’d give her a few minutes alone with Brett before she joined them. “I baked some goodies just to celebrate and say thanks for all you’ve done for my brother. The guys downstairs had to have a few of the brownies, of course.”

“If it was Roger Hastings, I’m surprised there’s anything left. He looks like a string bean and eats like he’s feeding leftovers down a garbage disposal,” Valerie Harris, one of the nurses said, as she came over. “I’m so jealous. I could gain five pounds just looking at a picture of these.” She shrugged as though saying who cares, and helped herself to a cookie.

Zoe laughed. “I hope you enjoy them.” She nodded to Ensign Crammer.

Derrick Armstrong stood next to her mother at Brett’s bedside. An electric current of fear raced through Zoe and her eyes went immediately to Brett to check his safety. Seeing Marjorie sitting in one of the few chairs in the room as well, Zoe breathed a sigh of relief. The chances the man would try something with his girlfriend in the room were slim.

“Hey, Sis. Strong Man and Marjorie just stopped by to visit a minute.” He was sitting up in bed. The IV was disconnected but they had the feeding tube still in. Except for that small thing, Brett looked normal, as though nothing had ever happened.

“Good.” She crossed to the other side of the bed and bent to kiss Brett’s cheek. Her mom’s eyes and nose were red from crying, but she offered Zoe a smile and turned her attention back to Brett.

Zoe fought hard to control her expression as she approached Derrick and Marjorie. She offered Marjorie a smile and touched her arm, then nodded to Derrick.

“Where’s Hawk?” Derrick asked.

“He’ll be here in a few minutes. He had to stop downstairs to get some paperwork filled out so he can return to duty Monday.”

Derrick nodded and adjusted the hat he had tucked under his arm. Dressed in the blue camouflage working uniform he looked impressive. “I’m on lunch break, I have to get back to base.” He turned to Brett and the two looped thumbs and grasped wrists in a handshake. “Glad you’re back, man. Gotta go.” He nodded to Clara. “Good to meet you, ma’am.”

On the way out he brushed Marjorie’s lips with a kiss. “See you tonight, babe.”

Marjorie’s stillness during the kiss, sent alarm jangling through Zoe and she frowned.

Marjorie stood and went to the foot of the bed. “I should be going too.” She touched one of Brett’s blanket covered feet, the movement tentative. “I’m glad you’re better, Brett.”

“Me, too. Thanks.”

“I’ll walk with you to the elevator and give Mom some time to visit with Brett, Marjorie,” Zoe said, on impulse.

The woman nodded. “Sure.”

“How did the trip to San Francisco go?” Zoe asked as they walked down the hall together.

“It was great. I think Derrick had as good a time as I did.”

“Good.”

Marjorie’s eyes shifted away. “He can be really sweet.”

“I’m sure he can, Hawk can make me melt in my shoes.”

Marjorie laughed. “I can imagine.” Her expression turned serious. “I know that Hawk talked to Derrick. I know you probably said something to him about my arm.”

“Yes, I did. I was concerned for you.”

Marjorie nodded. “I appreciate it. Derrick’s seeing a counselor, and he seems to be really trying. He is doing better with his anger.” Her tone wavered between defensive and hopeful.

“I’m glad. I hope he’ll stick with it.” For Marjorie’s sake, Zoe really prayed he would.

“Me too.” Marjorie fell silent for a moment then moved restlessly as the elevator doors opened. “I have to go.”

The woman seemed so isolated, so alone. Zoe touched her arm. “I’m going to be staying with Brett for a month after he’s discharged from the hospital. If you should need to talk, or want to just get out for a little while and go shopping, call me.”

“Hawk won’t mind?” The woman’s eyes searched Zoe’s face.

“No, of course not. Why should he?”

Marjorie shrugged. “I thought by now you two might have decided to live together, or something.”

They already were. “We’ve been busy with Brett and a few other emergencies. We haven’t really talked about what we’re going to do once Brett is released.”

Marjorie stepped into the elevator. “Hawk’s going to ask you to stay. I know he will.”

Her reassurance helped to ease Zoe’s niggling feeling of doubt. Since her mother’s arrival he’d been—different. She couldn’t really put her finger on it. She raised her hand in farewell as the elevator doors closed.

Was Hawk going to ask her to stay with him on some permanent basis? And if he did, what would she say?

The second elevator door opened and the subject of her thoughts stepped out. He smiled, then frowned. “Something wrong?”

“No, I was just saying good-bye to Marjorie. She and Derrick stopped by for a few minutes.”

Hawk’s arm looped about her waist and she did the same to him.

“She says Derrick’s doing better.”

“Good. How’s your mom?”

“She’s a little teary, like I was the first day, but she’s doing okay.”

She looked up and studied his profile. “Do you think we need to say anything to her about us?”

He frowned. “Like what?”

Anxiety rolled over her like a tank leaving her breathless and weak. That’s what was different. He’d backed off since her mother’s arrival. He’d grown more careful with the easy gestures of affection she’d become accustomed to. Her voice sounded thin. “That we’ve grown close, and we want to see where it’s going to take us.”

“You’ve been giving it some thought,” he said.

“Since the first time we made love. Haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” He smoothed back a strand of hair from her shoulder. “It might make your mom uncomfortable with me, if you come straight out and tell her we’ve been sleeping together.”

She studied his expression. She tried to swallow but she didn’t have enough moisture there to complete the action. She wanted to say talk to me, Hawk, but the words stuck in her throat, and her face felt numb.

She stepped closer to him to avoid a nurse pushing a mobile computer. “They’re going to do a more thorough neurological exam later today to see how much brain damage Brett’s sustained. I’ll have to stay with him for a few weeks after he’s discharged.”

“He can stay with us at my house.”

Zoe stopped. Would he be so quick to offer that if he were thinking of backing off from their relationship? Her heart pounded as though it might come out of her chest. God help her if he was getting cold feet, or tired of her. “We have to talk about this some more, before we bring it up with Mom and Brett.”

“Are you worried about what they’ll think?” he asked.

“Are you?”

Hawk turned to face her, his gray eyes intent. “No, I’m not. I just know moms are a little protective of their little girls and well—it puts me in the position of having broken my word to look out for you.”

Was that all it was? She’d have given her good leg just to feel a little relief. A moment passed before she could catch her breath. She smiled. “You haven’t done anything I didn’t want you to.”

“I think your mom might have a different perspective on that, honey.”

The door opened behind them and they looked up. Clara stepped out in the hall. There was a frozen look to her features, and she appeared pale. “Something’s wrong with Brett.”

*

Dr. Connelly leaned against the adjustable table next to the bed, Brett’s chart held in both his hands. “It’s called expressive aphasia. It’s caused by an injury to the area of the brain that controls verbal communication.”

Zoe’s stomach grew hollow with fear. Her gaze shifted to her mother. Her features looked wooden with control.

Brett’s voice, still weak, held a taut note, “So that’s why I feel as though the word is right there on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get it to come.”

“That’s very common with head injuries,” Dr. Connelly said with a nod.

“Mom was showing me pictures and I couldn’t remember—” His expression grew tense as he concentrated on getting the right word to come out. “C-Cat—”

“Katie Beth,” Clara supplied the name for him.

Brett shot her a frown. “Yeah.”

“Who is Katie Beth, Brett?” Dr. Connelly asked.

“My niece.”

“You know who she is, but you can’t say her name when you look at her picture.”

“No, I couldn’t get the word to come to my mind.”

Dr. Connelly nodded. He looked down at the chart he held. “You don’t seem to have trouble identifying the people in this room.”

“No.”

The doctors gray brows drew together. “Who’s the woman standing next to your bed?”

“My mom, Clara.”

“And this young lady.” Connelly pointed with the chart.

“My sister, Zoe.”

“And the fellow next to her?”

“Lieutenant Yazzie, Hawk, my commanding officer.”

“You have all these people here supporting you, son. You’re not alone in this.”

“I’m going to contact the head of our speech pathology here on staff. As soon as we’ve finished our tests, they can do their own evaluation and get you started.”

Brett nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Your brain has sustained a trauma, Brett. I’ve already talked to you about the extent of that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re a living miracle. You woke up.”

“Yes, sir, I know that.”

“It’s going to be tough,” Connelly continued. “You’ve done tough before with your SEAL training.”

Brett’s jaw tightened and Zoe read his fear behind the careful blankness of his expression.

“As long as you go at it with as much determination as you did that, there’s a good chance, you’ll overcome this.”

“I hope so, sir.”

Zoe heard doubt in the word hope and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You will, Brett.”

“We’ll have more information in a few days and know better how to progress from there.”

As soon as Dr. Connelly left the room, a taut silence followed.

“Guys, I think I’d like some time alone for a little while,” Brett said.

Zoe’s gaze met her mother’s over Brett’s head.

“All right, sweetheart.” Clara bent to kiss Brett’s cheek and his arms went around her.

“Love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.” Her eyes grew glazed with tears as she straightened, but she quickly blinked them back to offer him a smile. She left the room.

Zoe hugged him hard and met his blue gaze head on. She ran a comforting hand over his fine halo of hair that stuck straight up in the air. He looked so much like he had as a little boy with his hair cut so short. He was still her big brother, but she suddenly realized their roles had reversed. “I know this is a blow, but you’ll be fine.”

“Sure, Sis.”

“Hawk, I need to speak to you privately for a minute,” Brett said.

“Sure.”

*

Hawk approached the bed as soon as the door closed behind Zoe and her mother. He had seen that battle ready expression on Zoe’s face so often he only briefly acknowledged it on Brett’s features.

“I need you to take some pictures for me,” Brett said. “The equipment we use, some of the people we work with. I have to know how wide spread this memory-language thing is.”

That sounded like a reasonable suggestion to Hawk. “All right. How bad do you think it is?”

“If you can’t remember your own niece’s name, it’s bad.”

Hawk laid a hand on Brett’s shoulder. “You knew who she was, you just had trouble with her name. You haven’t forgotten her.”

“No, but Jesus!” Brett’s frustration and panic were plain in his expression, his voice.

“You need to relax, Brett. You’ve just woken up from a month long sleep. You haven’t given yourself time to get acclimated to being awake again. It may just be a temporary thing.”

“That isn’t what it sounded like to me.”

Hawk agreed. But getting worked up over it was going to be counterproductive.

“You know how it is when we get ready to go into action, how we shake off outside stressors. You need to home in, Brett. Focus on getting back on your feet first, then tackle this language—,” He hesitated. Beating around the bush wasn’t going to help. “problem.”

“There wasn’t a moment your mother or your sister ever doubted you’d wake up. Zoe’s been here every day, talking to you, doing P.T. on you. If you have half as much faith in yourself as those two ladies do, you’ll have this thing ironed out in no time.”

The anxiety leached out of the man’s features after a few moments. “Thanks, Hawk.”

“No problem.”

“So, are you sleeping with my sister, or what?” Brett asked.

Chapter Twenty-Two

‡

From her position on the back porch, Zoe listened to her mother and Hawk talk as they cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. “I’ve been doing some physical conditioning to get back up to speed, now that I can run again,” he said.

He’d never stopped training, just running. She had grown accustomed to his daily schedule in the last few weeks. Even though he’d had to pamper his knee, he hadn’t missed a morning in the rec room lifting weights or of late using the exercise bicycle.

He had more discipline, was more deeply committed to his job, than anyone else she knew. Could he commit himself to her with half as much resolve?

Everything grew quiet. Her mother came out onto the porch. She sat next to Zoe on the glider and sighed as she set it in motion.

“I’ve missed this,” Clara said. “I think you’re right, this is the best room in the whole house.” She tilted her head back against the top of the glider and closed her eyes. “Are you and Hawk having an affair?”

Zoe’s stomach lurched. She wasn’t ready for this. She stared out at the large, orange, ball-shaped sun that hung on the horizon before turning to look at her mother. “We’ve gotten really close. He’s been a rock for me, for Brett.”

Her mother opened her eyes and looked at her. “And me. You don’t have to sing his praises to me, Zoe. I know he’s a good man.”

“But?” Zoe heard the defensiveness in her own voice.

“No, buts.” Clara met her gaze head on. “You’re an adult, this is your business. I just want you to be careful.”

Careful. It was too late for careful. “How did you do it, Mom? How did you watch Dad leave and not die inside every time? How did you not resent the fact that he wanted the Marine Corps more than he wanted us?”

“That isn’t true, Zoe.”

The shock in her mother’s expression, her voice, had Zoe studying her features.

“Your father never wanted to leave us, Zoe. He loved us. He didn’t want to go.” Clara grasped her arm. “That last time—You weren’t completely recovered, and he knew we needed him home. But he had a commitment to his men. They were depending on him.”

Zoe pushed back that small part of her that urged her to ask, “Why weren’t we first?”

“Your father believed in what he was doing, Zoe. I knew when I married him he was a Marine. It was important to him. As important as being a SEAL is to Hawk.”

Zoe stopped the glider as she leaned forward to prop her head in her hands. “The team is Hawk’s family. He’s been in the Navy since graduating college. I think it’s taken the place of the real family he didn’t have.” Who else did he have? Her stomach clenched at the thought. She looked up. “I know it’s more than that. He thrives on the camaraderie, the connection he has with his men. He has to protect and serve his country. It’s his life.”

She sat back and ran restless fingers through her hair dragging it back from her face. Could she share him with his unit? If she stayed with Hawk, she had to find a way to deal with these feelings of abandonment. She couldn’t project that resentment onto him. It would eventually destroy their relationship.

Her mother laid a hand on her arm, and Zoe looked up. “Now that Brett is awake, they’ll discharge him from the hospital pretty quickly. You said you wanted to stay out here with him, but if you need time to think, you could go back to help Sharon for a few weeks.”

An empty ache hollowed Zoe’s stomach and squeezed her heart at the idea. How could she ever think she could leave him? God, she loved him so much.

“How many more weeks before Sharon can drive?” she asked.

“Three.”

Zoe swallowed. “The doctor’s already released Hawk to go back to full duty. A few weeks or months after that his unit could be called up.” She closed her eyes against the urge to cry. “I want to spend as much time with him as I can.”

Clara nodded. “I understand.”

She really did. Zoe read it in her mother’s expression, in her eyes. “This is really hard, Mom.”

“We don’t pick the people we love, Zoe. We just love wherever our heart takes us. I love Hawk too, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Zoe moved to lean her head against her mother’s shoulder and Clara grasped her hand tightly in hers.

“You’ve done hard before. If it came easy, it wouldn’t mean as much. Your father and I crammed as much loving into our lives, in the months he was home each year, as most people do in a lifetime, Zoe. I don’t have any regrets. I always knew he loved me.”

“Is that why there’s never been anyone else?” Zoe asked.

“He was a hard act to follow. And I had you, Sharon, and Brett to think about. Brett’s so like his father.”

Zoe squeezed her mother’s hand. “Yes, he is. He’ll come back from his head injury and get back to his unit. I know he will.”

Clara drew a deep breath. “Sharon’s going through a depression because of the hysterectomy. She’s going to bounce back, but it’s going to take time.” She pressed her cheek against Zoe’s forehead. “We’ve all done hard,” Clara said. “I just wish we could do easy a little more often.”

“Me too, Mom. Me too.”

*

Damn, it felt good to be back in action. After only a week he was recovering his stamina and muscle tone. Having finished his reconnaissance, Hawk squatted within the cover of the thick brush, and eyed the block building they were using for the close quarter drill. The assignment was to surprise the pretend terrorists inside, capture them, and free the pretend hostages without a loss of life. He pondered several possible scenarios. Doc appeared next to him and Hawk signaled a withdrawal. They fell back to the road.

Hawk checked the safety of his nine-millimeter sig, even though it was only loaded with simunition, and holstered it. He removed a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket and sketched a map of the interior of the building. He spread it out on the hood of the armored Humvee and motioned for Strong Man, Doc, Flash, and Bowie to gather close.

“There are six tangos and two hostages. The hostages are being held in the kitchen on the west side. This is the plan.”

Doc and Strong Man disappeared into the brush going west. Flash and Bowie followed a few minutes later. Hawk worked his way north, using the clusters of palm as cover. Scoping out the front door, he watched as one of the tangos inside paused before the window to look out, then moved away.

Crawling beneath the brush, Hawk worked his way to the corner of the yard. He removed the field binoculars from around his neck to check the position of the men inside. There were three in the front room but three others he couldn’t see. He narrowed his eyes against the reflective glare of the setting sun and clicked his radio, “Three tangos here.”

Derrick’s voice came over the radio at a whisper. “One in sight here playing guard to the hostages.”

“Two in the kitchen,” Doc’s voice said into his ear.

Hawk clicked his radio once to let them know he understood. Crawling to a spot diagonal to the front windows, he looked one last time, then tucked the binoculars inside his shirt. The coast clear, Hawk leaped to his feet and ran the distance from the brush to the front door.

Hugging the wall next to it, he removed his pack and retrieved the block of C-4 Bowie had given him and the hardware he needed to rig the detonation. Careful to visually measure the amount of explosive he intended to use, he pinched off small squares of the plastique, mashed them into the door hinges. He checked the wireless remote to make certain it was working, then hooked the detonator to the plastique and wired the rest of the circuit.

He eased off the front stoop and bobbed up to look through the window to check the position of the men inside. He meant to blow the door off its hinges, not take out the front of the house or injure anyone inside the room. In a real scenario, he wouldn’t be so careful unless hostages were in the room.

Hawk crawled around the edge of the house to the east corner bedroom. Popping up, he checked to make sure the room was empty then stood up. He removed his K-bar and dug at the putty that held one of the windowpanes into the frame. He cut it away then pulled the pane free. Inserting his hand, he unlocked the window and pushed it up.

Muffled voices came through the bedroom door from the front room. He paused, checking to make sure none of the tangos were on their way to check out any sound he had made. Nothing.

He shrugged free of his pack and eased it inside the room to one side of the window, then boosted himself over the edge into the house. Even the rustle of his clothing sounded loud and his every muscle tensed as he waited to see if his entrance had been heard. He clicked his radio, letting the men know he was in position.

A few seconds passed then he heard the distinct reply from each of the other men. They were in position.

Hawk pulled down the protective goggles, flipped the detonator on and pushed the button. A loud “whomp” shook the bedroom door. He dropped the detonator, and jerked the door open and instantaneously shot the first man he saw. A bright yellow spot of soap compound painted the front of the tango’s vest. “Down, get down.” The three other men in the room hugged the deck. A fourth ran into the room, his weapon drawn and Hawk turned taking him down.

“Clear,” Hawk said.

Doc’s voice came from the right.

Hawk pushed the protective mask up then stumbled back at the impact as a simunition cartridge skimmed his cheek. His face stung like hell and he gritted his teeth against the pain. His vision obscured by the bright yellow compound, he ripped the safety helmet from his head. His eyes teared up. “Shit.”

“All clear, the hostages are secure,” Bowie’s voice said in his ear.

“Hawk—” Doc appeared at his side and his expression going from amused to concerned in a nanosecond. “Christ! We have to get that shit out of your eyes.”

“No, shit.” Half blinded by the soap, Hawk allowed Doc to lead him into the kitchen. He hung over the sink and rinsed his face and eyes over and over with water. The burning sensation finally eased but the welt on his cheek had begun to swell and it hurt like a son-of-bitch. Someone handed him a towel and he dried his face and hair with a couple of quick swipes.

“Well, the good news is that you rescued the hostages, Lieutenant.” Lieutenant Arnold, team leader of the hostage team, said. “The bad news is you’ve been shot by one of your own men.” There was just enough smug amusement in the other man’s voice that it torked Hawk’s building anger to near explosion level. He shot Arnold a look that killed the asshole’s smile.

He looked up to see his men clustered together in the kitchen, standing watch. He would not air his teams’ dirty laundry in front of another unit. He didn’t doubt for one minute he was being fucked with.

“The loss of one man is not acceptable, we’ll be repeating a similar exercise at 0-eight-thirty tomorrow morning, until we get it right. And we’re going down to the shooting range and running practice drills until fifteen hundred today.”

Silent, somber, the men filed out the back door of the house. “Will your team be available?” Hawk asked Arnold.

“Yeah.” Arnold’s jocularity had done a one eighty and his features appeared somber. “Good thing it was a simunition round and not live ammo.”

“Yeah. I got lucky.” Hawk set aside the towel on the counter.

“We’ll be back in the morning.”

“We’ll be ready,” Arnold said.

Hawk nodded. He retrieved his pack from the bedroom and went out the door he’d blown open. His cheek throbbed like a toothache but his anger was worse.

He had just enough time to regain control of his temper before he made it back to the Humvee. Doc and Bowie each straightened from their leaning position against the vehicle as he came into sight. Derrick, resting in the shade of a scraggly elm, got to his feet. Squatting next to him, Flash straightened and turned to face him.

“You don’t fucking see me standing here because I’m dead. Dead by the hand of one of my own men.” He looked from one man to the other. “Who the fuck shot me?”

“It was me, LT,” Flash stepped forward.

A red haze of rage partially obscured Hawk’s vision. He lunged toward Flash, and it took every ounce of control he could muster not to beat the man into the ground. He thrust his face close to Flash’s and his gaze bore into his. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I tripped over Strong Man’s foot and my weapon discharged.”

“That’s a fucking rookie mistake. A god damn rookie mistake.”

Rage burned the back of his throat and had blood rushing to his ears. His cheek pounded as though someone were drilling into his face with a router.

“The next time one of you shoots me, it damn well better be with live ammo and you better kill me, because when I get up, I’m going to rip your fucking head off.”

“Get in the Humvee. We’re hitting the practice range. And tomorrow we’ll be doing the drill again.”

*

Zoe pulled into the first available space at the parking structure her thoughts on Hawk and his return to duty with his team. He seemed happier, energized being back to work. She didn’t know whether to be happy for him or resentful. She missed having him at the house.

He’d looked dangerous and handsome that morning dressed in desert camouflage pants and a dark t-shirt that hugged his muscular torso. The sunglasses he had donned had hidden his eyes and given him a menacing air. When he’d looked over them at her, she’d nearly melted beneath the heat in his gaze and came closer to doing just that when he’d grabbed her and kissed her good-bye.

The late afternoon sunlight had dimmed to a dusky glow on the horizon as she entered the hospital. Her mother had returned to Lexington and with Hawk at work, the house had seemed empty all afternoon, but it had given her some time to think. She’d filled out the application to work at the hospital. It had felt like a leap off a tall cliff into open space, but she’d done it. She’d drop it off at the office before going upstairs to see Brett.

Since it was closing time at the office, she handed the application off to one of the personnel there and wound her way down the corridor to the emergency bay waiting room to the elevators. She pushed the button next to the doors and caught a glimpse of a serviceman dressed in body armor standing at the entrance to the waiting room. From the back, his wide shoulders and pale blond hair reminded her of Derrick Armstrong.

Thoughts of Marjorie had her stepping away from the bank of elevators and limping to the door. “Derrick?”

At the sound of his name he turned to face her. Standing behind him, Doc and Bowie looked up.

“Hey, guys. What are you doing here?”

The three exchanged looks. “There was a training accident and we brought one of the team in to be checked out,” Bowie said. “We’re sticking around to give him a ride home once he’s released.”

Zoe’s attention went from one to the other. The way they kept avoiding her gaze had her breath catching in her throat. Her face felt numb. “Is it Hawk?” Her voice sounded as though from far away. “What happened?” If it wasn’t serious they wouldn’t be here.

Doc grasped her arm above the elbow. “He’s okay, Zoe. The goggles protected his eyes.”

His eyes. There was something wrong with his eyes. Her ears filled with a horrible ringing and spots swam before her vision.

“Whoa,” Bowie grabbed her upper arm as Doc’s grasp tightened. They guided her to a seat. Doc forced her head down. A wave of nausea struck her, and she thought she might throw up.

“He’s all right, Zoe. It’s just a bruise, and a little eye irritation, but we thought it best to get it checked out just in case,” Doc reassured her as he squatted close.

Someone slapped a wet cloth on the back of her neck, which helped. As the nausea passed, she eased up to test her ability to stay upright.

“I’m good to go guys,” Hawk’s voice came from behind Bowie and Derrick. His tone changed to one of impatience as he said. “My cheekbone’s not broken just bruised. Damn paperwork took longer than the exam.”

Just the sound of his voice had quick tears stinging her eyes. She pushed herself off the seat and someone’s hand beneath her elbow offered her support.

A look of surprise flitted across Hawk’s face when he saw her. A purple bruise discolored his cheek and the whites of his eyes looked painfully inflamed. “What are you doing here, Zoe?” His tone held a hint of accusation as his gaze swept the men around her.

“I was just dropping some paperwork off at the office before going up to see Brett,” she explained. His tone, his look—he hadn’t wanted her to know. She swallowed against the painful knot of emotion lodged in her throat. “I saw Derrick standing in the waiting room and came in to see what was going on.”

He tossed his vest to Bowie and his hand curved over her shoulder and he drew her close. Zoe hid her face against his chest as she struggled against the soul pounding relief that raced through her. He smelled of sweat, him, and a foreign smell, like firecrackers. It took her a moment to process that it was gunpowder.

“I’m fine, Zo. It was just an accident.” His hand cupped the back of her head.

Unable to speak, she nodded. Dear God, how precious he was to her. She clung to him, the urge to wail her fear and grief almost more than she could control. It was some moments before she trusted herself to step back from him. Her tears left two dark wet spots on his blue t-shirt mid-chest. She looked around for the other men, but they were gone. Hawk’s body armor lay on the chair next to them.

“Let’s go home. You can call Brett from your cell in the car.”

She nodded.

*

Hawk stared at the computer screen. Writing the report for his commander hadn’t purged his feelings of betrayal, but stirred them into a fever pitch. Had Flash’s shot really been an accident? Or had it been a warning to back off? What the hell had been going on in Iraq before they came home?

Something criminal? Something that would impact a SEAL’s career.

Drugs? No way. Treason? Not a chance.

How bad was Flash’s gambling problem, and how much did he owe? Hell, who did he owe?

Had Derrick been abusing his girlfriend all along? Had Brett known?

Girlfriend. Zoe’s expression of fear and shock as she’d stood in the emergency room waiting room had made him aware of how deep her feelings for him ran, and how vulnerable she was because of it. He’d never seen anyone so pale without them being down.

His idea of just keeping things superficial, just keeping them limited to the sex, had imploded the first time they’d made love. He just hadn’t realized how completely he had given of himself, and how vulnerable he was because of it, until he’d seen her there. He’d never meant their relationship to cause her pain. But he’d been helpless to shield her from it.

For the first time, the realization that he wanted something permanent with her, wasn’t just a thought that ricocheted through his mind to then be tucked away to look at later. The panicky tightness he’d experienced in his chest at Doc’s apartment returned with a vengeance.

He wasn’t just in love with her. He loved her. But if something happened to him, could she deal with it? From her reaction this afternoon, he didn’t think so. But short of giving up his career—what could he do about it?

He could end it, and save her from all the dread, worry, and grief. Just the thought hit him with a punch as painful as the simunitions round that had grazed his cheek that afternoon.

Could he really do it? Could he be as selfless as that? He was certain he had never felt like this about any other woman, knew it in his bones. But in order to keep her, he’d have to make a career change. Could he give up being a SEAL?

Everything in him rebelled against the thought.

The guys in his company had been his family for so long. The men standing next to him were the one constant, the one thing he could depend on.

Until now.

What if his career continued to stall because of this situation? What would he do then?

It wouldn’t. He’d see to it. Because without the team what would he have? And he’d been alone, except for them, since his mother had died. Five years now.

The guilt he kept carefully tucked away reared up, nearly choking him. He hadn’t been there for her, anymore than he could be for Zoe if they went wheels up.

A tap sounded on the bedroom door behind him. He grasped at his composure and said, “Come in.”

Zoe stood at the door, her hand on the jamb, and balanced on her good leg as she rested the foot of her damaged one atop the other. Her color had returned but she looked tired. Were they going to fight about what had happened? The phone rang down the hall and she sighed. “I’ll get that, it’s probably, Mom.”

Hawk drew a deep breath. He had a few moments reprieve, a few slim moments to think things through.

When Zoe returned, he tried to behave as though he was immersed in what was on the computer screen.

“Are you too busy to talk?” she asked.

“No, I’m not too busy.” He pushed the chair away from the computer, a sense of resignation weighting that feeling further.

Zoe leaned back against the edge of the desk. She reached for his hand. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His fingers brushed the swollen area just beneath his eye. “Just a little sore. The drops they gave me have almost cleared my eyes.”

She slid off the desk edge and perched on his thigh to rest against him. She rubbed her soft cheek against his and brushed her lips along his jaw.

With just that small caress he wanted her so much it tangled his insides into knots. “About today—”

She pressed her fingers against his lips and drew back to look him in the face. “Not yet, Adam. I just want to be close to you for a few minutes first. I wish things could be simple for us.”

Hawk kissed her, smothering the rest of what she had to say. He just didn’t want to hear it. Not yet. Instead of talking about all the reasons they shouldn’t be together, he wanted to feel all the reasons why they should. His mouth clung to hers until he teased her tongue into play.

In the touch of her hands, the heated taste of her mouth, there was an eagerness in her response that bordered on desperation.

“Zoe.” He urged her to her feet. He drew her close and ran his fingertips up and down her back in gentle brushing caresses. “I never wanted to cause you pain,” he said softly.

He could feel the tension in her body as she struggled not to cry. She hid her face against his shoulder. “I know.”

“It’s always a possibility. We have to train hard. We sweat now so we don’t bleed later. I’ve sworn to protect my country with my life, if I have to, Zoe.”

“I know. But it wasn’t the enemy who shot you today.”

“It wasn’t a real bullet. It was a simunition round packed with a soap compound.”

“Does it matter that it wasn’t a real bullet? You were shot. Who shot you?”

“I can’t tell you that. It was a training accident and the only person I’m allowed to discuss it with is my commander.”

She drew back as though he’d slapped her. “What did you do, sign a nondisclosure contract the moment you donned your uniform this morning?”

Guilt gave him a hard pinch at her look of betrayal. “Something like that. It’s just the way it is.”

“Why is it you put the Navy ahead of everything and everyone? It isn’t your family.”

Veronica had said much the same thing. She’d screamed at him that when he’d joined the Navy he’d married an institution, instead of a living, breathing woman. But it had never let him down, not until now. He closed off the thought.

If Zoe was this upset over a bit of secrecy, how would she feel when they went wheels up to places unknown? When he couldn’t even contact her because they were under deep cover?

His throat worked as he swallowed. “I think we need to pull back.” His chest hurt as he drew a deep breath. “I’m not ready to make a choice between you and the Navy.”

“Is that how you see it, Hawk? That I’m asking you to give up your career for me?”

“It’s all I’ve had for a long time, Zoe. It’s all I’ve worked for, for years.”

Her hand slashed through the air in sudden anger. “Is this job going to grieve for you when you come home in a body bag? Is it going to support you if you come back with an arm or leg missing? Is it going to give you children, or a real family? Is it going to hold you and offer you comfort when you feel betrayed by your friends?”

So she had seen that, too. But he’d seen some things, too. What about her physical condition? What if she got sick and died on him while he was gone? Like his mother had. The guilt had hounded him for years. He couldn’t go through that again.

“I can’t ask you to stick it out. When we go wheels up and I’m shipped out for six months, a year, longer, you’ll be back here in the states and you’ll get tired of being alone, waiting on someone who might or might not return. You’ll get tired of wondering if I’m hurt or dead. You’ll resent my being gone just like you’re resenting my not telling you everything right now. And if you got sick or were hurt, I couldn’t be here for you and you’d resent that too.”

She brushed at a fresh wave of tears that streaked down her face. “Not if you love me.”

For a moment, some unseen force squeezed his heart in a tight fist. “I won’t say that, Zoe.”

She turned away, sparing him from seeing her reaction. But when she faced him again, anger etched a bitter light in her eyes. “What was the whole point then, Adam? Was it to show the poor little crippled girl that someone could fuck her despite the scars?”

He welcomed the anger. It helped him seal off the pain. He reached for her and gave her a shake before he could control the urge. “Stop it.”

“I would have never pegged you as an emotional coward. You’re ready and willing to lay your body, your life, on the line, but not your heart.”

The accusation stung more than he wanted to acknowledge. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Zoe.”

She threw out a hand in a beseeching gesture. “Then explain it to me.”

“I can’t let anything distract me from what I have to do. You don’t need the added grief of another person you care about being in harm’s way. It’s as simple as that. I’m trying to spare you that.”

She jerked free of his grasp. “You’re a little late, Adam. I already love you.”

His heart beat as though he’d run a fast sprint across a beach. He bit back the words, “I love you too.” If he said them, he’d make her happy—temporarily. But every time he had to leave, every time his job came between them—she’d end up miserable. As miserable as he’d be if something happened to her while he was gone.

“I’m sorry, Zoe.”

She shook her head, her expression blank, stunned, and staggered back toward the door.

Hawk took a protective step forward, his hand extended to steady her. She flinched away from his touch and limped out into the hallway. A few minutes later he heard the front door open and close.

He had done what he had to do. He’d done what was right for them both. Hadn’t he?

It hurt like hell.

Chapter Twenty-Three

‡

Zoe studied the exterior of the apartment building. The utilitarian architecture was blocky and unattractive, but it served Brett’s needs and suited his life style. She climbed the front steps and inserted a key into the locked front door, twisted it, then pulled it open. Her soft-soled shoes squeaked on the industrial gray tile as she limped to the elevator in the lobby. Stepping inside, she pushed the button for the third floor.

Her tear ravaged reflection stared back at her from the polished metal door. She bit her lip and looked away. It did no good to cry. What was done, was done. She refused to be one of those weak willed women with no pride, who begged for love.

She couldn’t return to Hawk’s house. If he didn’t love her, wouldn’t allow himself to love her, she couldn’t stay there anymore. At least she had some place to go.

She should have seen it coming, had seen it coming that day at the hospital, she just hadn’t wanted to face it.

The elevator door opened and she stepped out into the hall. The florescent lighting overhead appeared dim as she turned left and walked down to apartment three-fourteen. Her hand shook and she shoved the key in with more force than necessary. The door swung inward and the hall light fell in a large rectangle on the floor. It touched the shiny surface of a row of picture frames on a bookcase. The pulled drapes blocked the outside streetlight’s glow. The living room stretched like a black void before her. She ran her fingers along the wall just inside the door, searching for the light switch.

Fingers grasped her wrist and jerked. A high-pitched yelp tore from her as she stumbled forward. The door slammed shut cutting off the light. She breathed in the distinct smell of latex as a gloved palm cut off her scream. Fear rocketed through her. She kicked and squealed beneath the pressure as a muscular arm held her back against a tall male body.

She clawed at the hand covering her mouth. The words don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me jetted through her mind in a scream. Her feet struck a piece of furniture. She braced them and pushed. The man grunted as he staggered and hit the wall. His hand dislodged for a second.

Before she could draw breath to scream, he shoved her. Zoe hit the back of a waist high chair or couch, the momentum thrusting her over it in a flip. Her cheek skidded across the fabric of the cushions. She threw up an arm to protect her head as she rolled off into the floor. Her weak leg crashed into something wood. Pain shot through the limb, stealing her breath. White spots swam in her vision. The apartment door was jerked open. The florescent bulbs in the hall speared the room with light then the door slammed shut again.

Running feet pounded in the hall, then retreated into silence.

Nausea rolled over her with a force of a tsunami. A cold sweat misted her skin and she retched, one, two, three times. Nothing came up, her stomach too empty to produce anything but dry heaves. Her leg throbbed like an abscessed tooth making every movement agony. She curled into herself and shivered in reaction.

“Please God, don’t let it be broken,” she moaned as she pushed herself up to a sitting position and leaned back against the chair she had flipped over. She swallowed as a fresh wave of nausea made her stomach pitch.

The door shook as someone pounded on it from outside. “Hello—” A male voice came through the barrier. “Is everything all right in there?” The knob turned and the door swung open as though in slow motion. The hall lights illuminated a dark silhouette in the opening. A man.

Where was he when I needed him?

“Please call 911,” she said, her voice shaky and weak.

“Jesus Christ!” The light flashed on and she blinked at the familiar face. Bracing a hand on the back of the couch Bowie leaped over it and came to kneel beside her.

*

“God damn it!” Hawk flipped his cell phone shut and tossed it on the couch. Zoe’s refusal to answer hers was driving him crazy. It had been hours since she’d left. He needed to know she was all right. Needed in a stomach clenching, head pounding, throat aching bad way. A hollow feeling had settled in his chest that refused to let up. As he slumped on the couch and cradled his head in his hands, he had, for the first time in years, an urge to—no he wasn’t going there. Men didn’t go there.

His phone rang, and he snatched it. Disappointment punched through his system as he read the number on the screen. “Hello.”

“You need to get over here to Scripps Mercy,” Bowie said, his tone terse. “Zoe’s been checked out, and they’re trying to talk her into letting them admit her, but she’s determined to leave.”

Hawk leapt to his feet, every muscle tensing for action. “What’s happened? Is she hurt?”

A beat of silence followed and when Bowie spoke his tone was subdued. “Yeah, she’s hurt.”

“I’m on my way. Keep talking.” Hawk grabbed his keys from the dish in the hall, the phone pressed to his ear. He slammed the door behind him and stalked to the car. His heart beat in his ears so loud he had trouble hearing Bowie as he continued.

“Some asshole broke into Brett’s apartment. She walked in on him. He flipped her over a chair, and she hit her leg, the one that’s—you know. They’ve x-rayed it, and it’s not broken, but they still want her to stay overnight, just to be sure there’s no further damage.”

“Did she get a look at the guy?”

“No. He’d pulled all the drapes, and it was a total blackout in the apartment. The cops were there when she left in the ambulance.”

“Fuck!” Hawk backed out of the driveway. “Keep her there, I’m on my way.”

*

“You need to stay, Zoe,” Bowie said.

It was the tenth time he’d said it. Now that the pain in her leg had settled down to a dull throb, Zoe wasn’t buying it. She’d had enough of hospitals to last her a lifetime. “I hit my leg, and it’s not broken. I’ll do fine with the crutches. I’ll follow up with the doctor the ER guy recommended, and I’ll be fine.” Please God let the leg be fine.

She wiggled off the edge of the hospital bed and balanced on one foot while she looped her purse over her head to hang across her body to her hip. The strap hit the fabric burn on her cheek and she flinched. She touched it gingerly, checking the ointment the nurse had applied. “I need to get back and see what’s happening at Brett’s apartment.” She adjusted the crutches beneath her arms.

Bowie frowned. “We’re supposed to wait for you to ride down in a wheelchair.”

“I’m good to go, and I’m not waiting.”

Bowie threw up a hand in supplication. “I’m seeing a new side of you that reminds me of Cutter.”

“Is that so surprising?”

He grinned. “No.” The smile faded quickly. “Aren’t you going to call Hawk, and let him know what’s happened?”

She concentrated on putting the paperwork and pain medication the nurse had given her into her purse. “That would be redundant, since you’ve already done it.”

He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Look, I don’t know what’s gone wrong between you, but he deserved to know you were here.”

Zoe drew a deep breath as all the things she could say whipped through her mind. What happened is he stomped all over my heart. He didn’t want my love. He’s gone from wanting to let my family know we’re a couple, to telling me it was all a mistake.

“It isn’t important to anyone but me, Bowie. I don’t intend to put you in the middle. What happened between Hawk and me stays between us.” It hurt to draw breath, but her voice sounded only a little—strangled. “Now, I’d appreciate a ride to the apartment, and if that’s inconvenient, I can call a cab.”

Bowie sighed. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve got it covered.”

In her peripheral vision, she saw his hand hovering just within reach of her arm the first few swings she took with the crutches. “I’ve had years of practice with these. The only thing I don’t like to do is go down stairs.”

“Good thing they only have elevators here,” Bowie said.

“Yeah.”

They stood in front of the elevator.

Bowie snagged her arm when the door opened. “Look, Hawk is on his way. Stay just long enough for him to see for himself you’re ambulatory.”

All the things Hawk had said to her, all the pain he’d dealt her because of it, rose up to give her heart a painful squeeze. Tears blurred her vision. She concentrated on the tile beneath her feet instead. “I can’t do that, Bowie. I’m not ready to see him again, yet. Please call him and tell him not to bother coming.”

She caught the edge of the elevator door with the end of her crutch before it closed. It slid back open. She propelled herself inside.

Bowie breathed an expletive and stepped inside. “If you want him called, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

Then he’d make an unnecessary trip. She wasn’t calling him.

When she didn’t make a move to get her cell phone from her purse, Bowie swore again. A half dozen people filtered into the conveyance from the next floor keeping him from making any comment.

The doors opened on the lobby level and they waited for the others to exit. “You at least owe him a phone call, Zoe.”

“I’m not getting into who owes who. Stay out of it, Bowie.”

She swung forward.

They caught another elevator to the parking structure attached to the hospital. “Stay here and I’ll get the car,” Bowie said. He strode up the paved incline.

Zoe’s hands gripped the crutches. The air, moist and cool enveloped her. Standing alone, an exaggerated vulnerability swept over her. The distance between the floor and ceiling appeared to narrow. Her chest constricted, and it grew difficult to breathe. Her good leg struggled to hold her weight. Delayed reaction. Anxiety. That’s all it was. She’d be okay.

The doors behind her opened and she bit back a yelp, startled by the sudden sound.

Hawk stepped out of the elevator, along with a man and woman. The couple hustled past and moved up the incline.

Relief drained Zoe’s fear away, and for a moment she continued to stare at Hawk. The need to feel his arms around her struck her with such physical longing she began to shake.

Hawk’s stare pinned her as his long strides closed the distance between them. As he crowded close, heat radiated from his body. “Come back to the house with me, Zoe.”

She turned away from the look of grave concern on his face. Her hands tightened on the crutch handles. “No thanks.” She looked up the row of cars to where Bowie had disappeared. Where was he?

“Please, Zoe. Your safety is more important than what’s happened between us.”

Nothing was more important than what had happened between them. Nothing. Every touch, every look, every word they had shared was everything. That’s what he didn’t get. “I don’t need you to protect me. I can buy locks, and guns for that. I don’t need you to provide a roof over my head. I have that covered. The one thing I needed from you, you say you can’t give me, so please—just leave.”

Hawk rested a hand on her shoulder and she jerked away.

“Zoe—I have to know you’re safe,” Hawk said in a tone, nearly hoarse with emotion.

Pain and anger gave her the courage to look up at him. “Why would that matter to you? If you go wheels up, and you’re seven thousand miles away, will you know if I’m sick, or hurt? Will I know if you are?”

Hawk’s expression blanked for a second, then he flinched. “I promised your mom—”

“To hell with that and to hell with you!” Had her hands been free, she’d have slapped him. “And to hell with Bowie for deserting me, just so you’d have time to ambush me.” She swung around and clomped her way back to the elevator.

Bowie’s breaks squeaked as he pulled up in the car. The elevator door opened before Zoe. She got on and hit the close door button with the heel of her hand.

*

Hawk rubbed a hand over his forehead where a dull ache throbbed just above his eyes. He had never told Zoe about his mother’s death. But she couldn’t have hit him with anything that hurt worse. He should have been there for his mother during her illness. He should have been with her when she died. He would have been, had he known she was so ill. Why hadn’t she sent for him? Because he’d been unreachable. She had died alone. Emotions sliced and diced his insides like a bloodthirsty sushi chef.

Bowie approached him. He pulled his thoughts back to the current situation with an effort. “I’m parked out front of the hospital. She’ll catch a cab. I’ll follow her to the apartment. Can you give me a quick rundown of what happened?”

“You know Cutter’s apartment is next to mine. My date and I had just finished dinner, when we heard a crash from inside there and some strange muffled noises. When the door slammed hard enough to shake the walls, and there was the sound of running in the hallway, so I thought I’d better check it out. That’s when I found Zoe. She was down, and hurt. I was afraid to move her. Sheila, my date, called nine-one-one from the hall, and we stayed with her until the police and the ambulance came. Sheila’s still at my apartment waiting for me to get back. I asked her to stick around. I asked her to listen in on the cops and see if she could pick up on anything.”

So at least this time Bowie had an alibi. Some of the tension eased from Hawk’s shoulders. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to come up and see what she has to say myself,” he said.

“Sure.” Bowie searched his face. “Zoe has a mad on that doesn’t quit, and a stubborn streak a mile wide. The ER doctor wanted to give her a shot, but she refused it. They gave her some oral pain meds, and she’s supposed to follow up with a doctor tomorrow.”

Hawk nodded. The adrenaline rush he’d experienced after Bowie’s call had passed and his hands shook. He clenched them into fists. “I’ll see you back at the apartment building.”

Bowie nodded. “I don’t suppose she’ll give me a pass on trying to give the two of you time to work things out, will she?”

Now that he’d ended things with her, would Bowie try and make his move? And if he did, what right did Hawk have to say anything about it?

The pain he’d read in her expression only moments before made his sudden jealousy seemed petty and foolish. Though it killed him, he said, “She won’t stay mad at you, Bowie.”

“What about you, LT?”

Hawk shook his head. “I’d better catch up to her. See you back at the apartment complex.”

As soon as he was in the elevator on his way downstairs, his thoughts swung back to Zoe. He’d put her in direct danger without knowing it. He’d expected her to come back to the house, not catch a cab to Brett’s. He should have known when she didn’t answer her phone—

By trying to do the right thing, he’d done the wrong thing? And now it was up to him to make it right.

*

Hawk punched in Zoe’s number on his cell one more time, but it went to voice mail and he didn’t bother leaving another message. She wasn’t going to talk to him.

He hit Langley Marks’ number.

“Marks here.”

“Lang. Do you remember who packed up Cutter’s stuff when we left Iraq?”

“Strong Man and Flash had that detail. Flash and I dropped it at the apartment. The super was going to let him in but, Zoe and her mom were there already, so he left his duffle with them.”

Had Zoe unpacked it or her mother? Had there been anything unusual in it? Damn it. If he hadn’t chosen just now to try and—

“What’s up, Hawk?” Lang’s voice in his ear dragged him back to the current situation.

“Someone broke into Cutter’s apartment tonight and attacked Zoe.”

“Jesus.” Lang breathed. “Is she all right?”

“Her leg’s been injured. But she’s ambulatory. She’s gone back to Cutter’s apartment and she’s alone. Bowie lives next door, and the chances that anything else will happen—” He drew a deep breath. “The short of it is, I fucked up, Lang. In a big way. And Zoe won’t let me anywhere near her. Won’t even talk to me.”

“You broke it off.” Lang’s voice sounded flat. He swore beneath his breath. “We’re going wheels up soon, and you broke it off rather than ride it out.”

The accusation and disappointment he heard in Lang’s tone punched him with guilt.

“I suppose I should send Trish, but I won’t. There might be a slim chance of the fucker coming back. I’ll see if I can bring Zoe back here with me. If she’ll let me in.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“I really thought things would be different this time, Hawk. It isn’t any of my business what you do, but—Zoe deserved better than this.”

Hawk couldn’t think of a thing he could say in his defense. His voice sounded hoarse as he spoke around the knot in his throat. “Will you call me and tell me how she is, let me know where she is?”

Lang fell silent for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Later. I’m going to get her now.”

*

Half an hour later, Hawk watched as Langley gave a wave then entered the apartment building. It ate at him that it was Lang who was keeping her safe instead of him. By pushing Zoe away, he’d sent her right into the bastard’s path. Zoe hadn’t walked into an attempted robbery, as the police believed. It had to be the same guy. What the hell did Cutter have in his apartment the fucker would be searching for? And why had he waited until now?

Because Cutter had regained consciousness.

Hawk pulled out of his parking space and wove in and out of the traffic on his way to the Naval Medical Center in Balboa.

Though Brett didn’t remember the last couple of weeks in Iraq, there was a slim possibility that he would eventually. And whatever he had in his possession, they’d have to retrieve before he returned home. It had to be something he’d brought back from Iraq. But he’d been comatose when flown home and his gear brought back with the rest of the men. Who had packed his stuff? Who had unpacked it?

At the hospital, the nurse’s station stood deserted as Hawk came out of the elevator on Brett’s floor. He strode down the hall. He heard feminine laughter as he approached Brett’s room and paused outside the door. He tapped on the wood and pulled the door open. Angela, one of the nurses stood by the bed with an electronic blood pressure cuff. She and Brett both looked up as Hawk stepped into the room.

“Hawk—” Brett began.

“Lieutenant—visiting hours were over long ago,” Angela said, a frown marring her smooth brow.

“Brett’s sister had an accident this evening. I came to tell him,” he said, his tone short.

Brett stiffened and he swung his legs over the bed.

Angela pressed a hand against his shoulder.

Brett shot her an impatient glance. “What’s happened? Is she okay?” Brett asked.

“She’s on crutches, hopefully just for a while.” What if it wasn’t just a temporary injury? What if the damage was worse than Bowie had understood it to be? How would he find out how she was if she wouldn’t talk to him? How could he have been so stupid?

Brett’s jaw tensed. “It’s her leg?”

“Yeah.” Hawk’s gaze swung to Angela. “Could you give us a minute?”

Her gaze moved from Brett to Hawk and back again. “You’re still weak from weeks of inactivity, Ensign Weaver. You’re doing great in P.T. but you need to take things easy.”

“Sure, I hadn’t planned on jumping up and doing any calisthenics while you’re gone,” he said, his tone taut.

Angela frowned and her lips tightened. She gave a nod as she passed Hawk.

Hawk dragged a chair over to the bed and sat down. “I know you’re having trouble remembering some things before the mission, but you need to try and remember the last two weeks we were there, Brett.”

Brett’s brows slammed together over eyes just a fraction less dark than his sister’s. “What does that have to do with Zoe being hurt?”

“She was attacked when she went to your apartment. Someone was inside searching the place and she walked in on them.”

“What do you mean attacked?”

Hawk fought his rising impatience. “I mean the fucker threw her over the back of a chair and she smashed her leg on a table.”

“Jesus!” Brett shook his head then rubbed his temples as though in pain. “God damn mother—” His head came back up. “You said searching, not robbing.”

“HQ has been waiting until you were stronger to question you about it. I’m not waiting any longer. Something happened in Iraq, Brett. You weren’t taken down by a tango. One of the team bashed your head in and left you to be buried inside the building.”

The shock of it seemed to hit Brett broadside and his features went slack. Hawk quashed the quick feelings of sympathy and continued. “I know about Strong man’s assault charges and I know about Flash’s gambling debts and I believe it’s one of them. I need to know what you do about both of them. In short, I need you to get your fucking memory back, and tell me what went down that almost got you killed. Because that something just got Zoe attacked.”

Brett drew a deep breath. “My memory is a black hole just before the mission, Hawk.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Doing the practice runs to get our timing down.”

“What do you remember about Derrick’s assault charges?”

“He beat up his girl friend and when the cops showed up they brought charges against him. When she wouldn’t testify they dropped the charges. They cut him some slack because he’s in the teams and he was getting ready to ship out.”

Hawk ran his hand over his hair roughing it up as he beat back the urge to bite his fucking head off. “And you didn’t say anything to me.”

Brett grimaced. “I had hoped I’d be able to talk to him. I thought I’d convinced him to see someone when we got home.”

“But?”

“I can’t talk to you about this, Hawk. When someone takes you into their confidence—”

“He may have beat your head in and left you for dead.”

“No.” Brett shook his head. “Derrick would never do that.”

“You knew something that could end his career as a SEAL. What about Flash?”

“I don’t know. He and I aren’t buddies, we’re team mates.”

“Who is he close to in the team?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Bowie. Bowie’s buds with everybody.”

“Flash has a gambling problem. Did you know anything about that?”

“Yeah. I knew.”

Hawk focused on him and shook his head. What else had his men kept from him?

He shook off the sense of betrayal and continued. “All right. What I want you to do is spend some time thinking about what could have triggered the attack. If you think of anything, call me.”

“Yeah. You’ll look after Zoe.”

Hawk flinched. How was he supposed to do that now? “I’ll look after her. You can count on it.” He’d find a way.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‡

Just as Zoe lowered the lid on the washer, a knock sounded on the apartment door. She glanced at her watch. It had to be Bowie. He stopped by every day to check on her when he returned home from the base. She adjusted the crutches under her arms and made her way down the hall to the front door.

Had she not already lost her heart to Hawk, she would have certainly lost it to Bowie. She’d been unable to stay perturbed with him for long. His support had eased some of her anxiety. She felt safer with him next door.

A greeting hovered on her lips as she opened the door. It died as Flash’s lean form and smiling face came into view.

“Hey,” he said. Dressed in a desert camouflage print with his bonnet under his arm, he looked pure SEAL, until he smiled.

“Hello.”

“I came by to see Bowie and thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing.” He eyed the crutches with a frown. “Bowie told us what happened. How are you doing?”

“I’m all right.”

At his expectant look past her into the apartment, Zoe eyed him for a moment. Was he the one who had attacked her? Had he slapped her brother? She’d never know if she didn’t talk to him. Her breathing quickened and her throat felt tight as though something were pushing against the base of it holding back both her breath and the blood. Without the crutches her legs would have wobbled like rubber. She forced herself to move back. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.” Flash stepped into the apartment and waited for her to lead the way into the living room.

“How long are you going to be on those?” he asked.

“About two weeks.” She set aside the crutches, leaned them against the table next to her within easy reach, and lowered herself into a chair. Her mouth was dry as she continued, her breathing still labored. She had to calm down. “The bone wasn’t broken. I have a titanium rod imbedded in it so I’m part bionic woman. But the muscle was bruised, and since I don’t have the whole thing, I have to rest it until it’s healed.”

Flash sat down on the couch, his expression grave. He shaped the bill of his hat with his hands in a gesture of nervous energy. “I heard Cutter was going to be released.”

“Yes, on Wednesday.”

His smile held a charm she was afraid to believe in.

“That’s great.” He leaned forward to toss the hat on the coffee table and rested his elbows on his knees. “You haven’t had a very good experience here in California. With Cutter being in the hospital the whole time and—everything else.”

So he knew about Hawk breaking it off. “I won’t hold it against the state. I’ll come back again when I can visit just for fun.”

“Does that mean you’ll be leaving soon?”

“As soon as Brett can drive again, and I’m sure he’s on the road to recovery. So, it will be another couple of months at least.”

“You’ve been great about putting your life on hold to come out here and support him.”

“Isn’t that what families do?”

“Not always. My own—” Flash gave a shrug, and his Boston accent thickened. “That’s another story I’ll share with you some other time.” He slid to the edge of the couch and leaned forward. “You haven’t had much time to enjoy anything but the beach that one time and a few barbeques. I came by with an invite. There’s been some rumblings that we may be shipping out again.”

A dropping sensation hit Zoe’s stomach and she placed a hand against her midriff. Had Hawk known this when he pushed her away?

“I thought you were on a six month rotation then had eighteen months off to train.”

“In a perfect world, that’s the way things would go. But we’re not living in a perfect world right now. We won’t know until the orders come down twenty-four hours before.” He cleared his throat. “While Cutter’s surrounded by medical personnel, he’ll be taken care of. I wanted to invite you to go to Vegas for a day before he’s released. We could fly up or drive either one. Flying might be more comfortable for you.”

Zoe tried to shake free of the shocking news of their going wheels up and his invitation. “What if they page you to report for duty?”

“My gear’s already packed and I know a guy in Vegas who can fly us back. It’ll be my last opportunity to go and yours too, unless Cutter feels up to it later.” He shifted. His blue eyes held an earnest expression. “Look, I know you had—have a thing for Hawk. So, it wouldn’t be a romantic thing. I know you’re not ready for that so soon after—” He cleared his throat. “I just thought it might give you a change of scenery for a day. And everyone needs to go to Vegas at least one time in their lives. There’s no other place on earth like it.”

“So, I’ve heard.” Why was he doing this? Was it pity? She studied his even features and sun-streaked hair and felt no tug of attraction. Even the affection she held for Bowie wasn’t sexual attraction, but just—a liking.

Flash had remained a stranger to her. For all his flirting, and teasing, he kept himself distant. Was it true he had a gambling problem? And would she just be a cover for that, if she went? And why was he inviting her to begin with? A guilty conscience? It would be impossible for her to relax with him. They hadn’t had time to cultivate feelings of trust between them. And as long as there was a shadow of suspicion in her mind concerning him, there couldn’t be.

“I don’t think I can go, Flash. I appreciate your trying to take my mind off of things. It’s a generous offer. But I’m still anxious about Brett and don’t want to get too far away from the hospital—just in case.”

After a brief pause, he nodded. “I understand.” He rose to his feet.

Sudden anxiety sliced through her with his six-foot frame towering above her, and Zoe rose from her seat to position the crutches beneath her arms. When all he did was stride down the hall to the door, she breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned to look at her as they reached the door. “Maybe, Hawk will come around. I wouldn’t give up just yet.”

Trish had spent an hour telling her the same thing, the night she’d spent with them. Langley hadn’t stated an opinion one way or another. Had he held any hope Hawk would change his mind about them, surely he’d have said so.

“The thing with his mother a few years back, really tore him up. I’m sure he’s carrying around a lot of guilt because of that and with your—” His voice drifted off.

What was he talking about? Was there some reason behind Hawk’s pulling back? If there was, she at least deserved to know about it.

“With my leg?” Zoe encouraged.

“Yeah. He’d be worried the same thing might happen while he was gone.”

“He told me his mother died of breast cancer.”

“Yeah. It was before my time, before I became a member of the team. He was in—the real world—and no one could reach him when she went into the hospital.” Flashes pale brows drew together in a frown. “He didn’t tell you about this?”

“No.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything then. I just assumed he’d—”

Zoe caught his arm as he reached for the doorknob. For a moment she struggled to maintain her composure. If there was a chance they could work through what had caused Hawk to draw back, she had to know. “Will you tell me what happened?”

He studied her expression for a moment. His gaze dropped to the leg she held suspended. “He was out of reach and she died alone at the hospital. When he came in from the mission they told him. From what I heard, she was the only close family he had. They gave him hardship leave. Veronica—” He glanced up.

“She’s the woman Hawk was going to move in with before his last rotation.” Zoe guessed.

“Yeah. She accused him of using his guilt over his mother to get out of their relationship.” He shifted as though uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t have known any of this, but I saw them fighting in the parking lot before we were shipped out and it was pretty intense, so I asked around.” He shrugged. “This time, I really thought he was hooked. I still do.”

“Thanks, Flash.” Her throat, clogged with emotion, strangled her voice to a whisper. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Guess, that knocks me out of the running completely doesn’t it,” he said with a lopsided grin.

Zoe dragged a smile to her lips. “No one else even had a chance from the first moment we met.”

“Ouch!” Flash grabbed his chest. “Don’t let me down easy, now.”

Zoe smiled with a little less effort. “I thought you’d appreciate my honesty.”

“I do.” The teasing light in his eyes died, and his expression grew serious. “I’m really sorry things haven’t panned out better.”

He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. “I’m sorry about the leg too, Zoe.”

She searched his expression. Was there a deeper meaning behind the apology than just sympathy? “It’ll be fine.”

“If you change your mind about the trip, I won’t be leaving until tomorrow and there’s always a seat available. They want to pack those tables in the casinos.”

“Thanks.”

She watched him stride down the hall, his heavy boots loud in the hallway. Could he really be that good an actor? Yeah, he could, the Navy had trained him to be.

*

Hawk settled back against the car seat with a sigh. Damn it! Why couldn’t he get his butt out of the car and just go knock on her door? Instead of sitting here hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

Because things hadn’t changed. He was still going wheels up with his team and he still wouldn’t be there for her. But he wanted to be. Badly. He squeezed the steering wheel hard and with a sigh reached for the key in the ignition.

From next door, a bright red sports car shot free of the connected parking structure like a bullet and sped down the street. Flash.

Hawk started the car and pulled out into the flow of traffic. Flash wove through the streets like a stunt car driver in a car chase. Hawk followed him from a cautious distance. When he pulled into the parking lot next to his apartment, Hawk pulled in right behind him.

Flash had exited his car when Hawk pulled in and cut the engine. Flash paused as Hawk got out of the car. “Hey, LT. What’s up?”

“I thought you might have time to show me the CD of images you’ve pulled off the video I gave you from the hospital.”

“Sure, come on up.”

The apartment looked like a show place for chrome and glass. The modern furnishings looked expensive but dust coated the glass-topped tables and where a flat-screened TV used to hang was an empty spot. A tall entertainment center took over one wall. The shelves that had contained electronic equipment, a DVD burner and recorder, VCR-DVD combo, and an expensive stereo system, stood empty.

“What happened to all your stuff, Flash?”

“I’ve put everything but my computer in storage, for when we go wheels up. If someone breaks in they won’t have anything portable to steal, but the microwave.”

Flash led the way into a bedroom converted into an office. His duffle bag with all his equipment sat in one corner already packed. The wide, flat computer screen nearly took up the top of the desk. He popped in a CD and waited for the images to come up. “I got quite a few stills of the top of the guy’s head. He knew the cameras were there so he kept his head turned. But I caught a glimpse of his mouth and chin on one slide.” He clicked through the images one at a time then paused on one. He looked up at Hawk. “What do you think?”

Hawk studied the curve of the man’s jaw and the thin set of his lips. It looked like Derrick Armstrong. A sinking feeling hit the pit of Hawk’s stomach and he drew a deep breath. He’d known all along that it had to be one of them, but affirmation dealt a blow that hurt.

Flash leaned back in his seat. “I’ve been sitting on this. I didn’t want to bring it to you, LT. We’ve been in the same team since BUD/S and I didn’t want to believe Strong man capable of turning on one of us, but—if it isn’t him it looks a lot like him.”

Hawk nodded. “Burn me a copy of the images you have. I’ll need to turn it in to Captain Jackson.”

Flash unscrewed the lid on a canister of blank CD’s and popped one into a drive. “I invited Zoe to fly to Vegas with me. I thought she might enjoy checking it out.”

A rush of pain caught Hawk unaware and his face grew hot. “When do you plan to go?”

“Tomorrow. They haven’t canceled leave yet and I have a buddy who can fly me back if we get called in.”

Silence stretched between them. Flash continued to monitor the progress of the disk. Hawk nursed his pain and the sudden flare of resentment. She hadn’t wasted any time moving on.

It was his own fault. He’d had his chance and he’d thrown it away.

Flash popped the disk out, labeled it and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” Hawk swallowed against the knot in his throat.

As he walked back to the car, he drew deep breaths to contain the pain.

He sat in the car for several minutes, the silence beating at his ears as heavy as his heartbeat. He’d been going through old letters from his mother, trying to get a handle on his guilt. Trying to understand why she hadn’t sent for him. Something his mother had written to him played through his thoughts.

Every day we have together is a gift. Every experience we share another gem to cherish. As a son, you’ve filled my heart with pride and love, always. But I worry that you’re waiting to live your life after you’ve served your country, instead of living it while you’re serving it. You’ve chosen a difficult path, but you don’t have to be alone to follow it.

Had she known she was dying even then? Had she been trying to prepare him for it? Saying good-bye? And trying to tell him other things as well?

She had faced his decision to be a SEAL with pride, though he knew she’d worried for his safety, just as Zoe worried.

The jealousy and pain he’d been feeling eased. Zoe loved him, and she didn’t take that love lightly. She wouldn’t throw herself into someone else’s arms hoping to fill his place.

She’d been offering him a gift, a gift that had cost her dearly to give him. She’d known what she was taking on, had seen it first hand with her father, her brother, and still she’d been brave enough to do it.

And he’d shoved it aside. And the words he had spoken to her—He flinched.

He’d been without her for nearly a week. A week of pure hell. At least together they’d see each other, share things. If she’d let him make it up to her. But first, he’d have to get her to talk to him.

Hawk reached for his cell phone, flipped it open, and selected the number. “Hey, Trish. I have a favor to ask.”

When he shut the cell phone a moment later, he looked down at the CD he still held. Lang hadn’t found an image like Flash had and he’d been all over the footage. He’d compare the footage himself with both CD’s before he took everything to Jackson.

A guy who had bashed in his teammates head wouldn’t think twice about framing someone for it. He had to know he wasn’t helping him do it.

Chapter Twenty-Five

‡

Zoe grabbed the beach bag containing her clothes and scrambled out of the Mustang’s bucket seat as fast as her sore leg would allow. She rushed around the car to help Brett out of the vehicle. Her brace made a clicking sound on the concrete driveway, but it allowed her to move more quickly than crutches, despite the discomfort.

Brett waved her off as he shut the car door. “I’m all right, Zo. You don’t have to hover.”

He looked pale and thin, but just walking from the car to the gate under his own steam brought color to his cheeks. It was such a triumph. His triumph. Zoe fought hard to suppress the urge to grow teary.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked.

“Yeah. More than ready.” He paused with his hand on the privacy fence and drew a deep breath. “God, can you smell that? Grilled food. Manna. I’m telling you if I never have to eat another instant potato it will be too soon. And if I never have to breathe the scent of hospital air again it will be just fine with me, too.”

“Ditto,” she said with feeling.

He grinned at her, his teeth white, his jaw sharper than it had been a few months before. His gaze traced her features. “You and Mom are unbelievable. She’s like Atlas. She’s held up the weight of the world and kept right on going. With you, then Dad, then Sharon and me. And you’re like her sidekick. Did Atlas have a side-kick?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, if he had, it would be you.”

Zoe smiled. Typical. He was trying to thank her without just coming out with it.

“Do you think, maybe we were born under an unlucky star.”

Zoe caught her breath. “No. I don’t believe that, and you shouldn’t either. I believe in the old adage, shit happens. And we’re a strong family. We’ve come through all of it better, stronger people.” And somehow she’d survive her break with Hawk in the same manner. He’d given her no other choice.

Brett grinned again and opened the gate. “I’m starving.”

“Good. You need to put some meat on your skinny bones, Mr. Q-tip man,” she said as she switched the beach bag she carried from one hand to the other.

They stepped into the Marks’ yard. A banner that read Welcome Back Cutter stretched across the eave of the house. A shout went out and the team converged on Brett with their girlfriends and wives. Zoe slipped around the group and stood to one side.

“Man you are one tough hombre!” Bowie said.

“A walking miracle,” Langley added.

“I’d say one lucky mother—” Derrick shot a look Zoe’s way and cut off the expletive. “Can’t say what I was thinking in mixed company. I’m damn glad you’re back, Cutter.” He slapped Brett’s back.

Flash clasped his hand and shook it hard. “Glad you’re over the hump, Cutter.”

Oliver Shaker, stood to one side and stepped forward as soon as Flash moved aside. “Good to see you mobile, man.”

Zoe paused to watch the men. Which one of them could have hurt Brett? And how could they shake his hand and wish him well after trying to kill him?

Hawk stepped through the sliding glass doors, a platter of raw hamburgers in his hand. He set the tray aside on a table and walked down the deck. His gray gaze locked on her first, pausing for a painful eternity before moving on to Brett and the group surrounding him.

Longing punched Zoe in the solar plexus with the impact of a medicine ball and she turned aside to hide her reaction. Even as her vision blurred, she repeated a mental mantra over and over, I will not cry, I will not cry.

She limped toward the pool where Trish Marks stood keeping an eye on the children in the water. “Hey, is there anything I can do to help?” Zoe asked.

“No, everything’s done. How’s Brett doing?” Trish asked.

“He’s weak, but doing well. The aphasia he’s experiencing seems very slight. It’s going to take him some time to get back a hundred percent.”

“So, they think he’ll be able to return to his unit?”

“Yeah. The doctor thinks he’s going to be fine.” With a lot of work and speech therapy.

“Good. I’ll go do my Mother Trish thing after the herd thins.”

Trish ran her eyes down the slacks and camp shirt Zoe wore. “It’s hotter than Hades out here, tell me you brought your bathing suit.”

“Yeah, I did.” Anxiety pinched Zoe’s stomach. If she was going to show Hawk she was moving on, that would have to be part of it. But she dreaded seeing the other team members’ reactions to her scars. The children’s response concerned her the most. “You’ve told the kids about my scars, haven’t you? I don’t want to frighten them.”

Trish placed a hand on her arm. “They know you were in a terrible accident when you were just a little older than they are now. They’re curious more than anything. But they may ask questions.”

“I don’t mind that. In a way it makes things easier when someone does. It takes the elephant out of the room.”

Trish’s smile was half hearted. “And what about the other one that will be sitting by the pool?”

Zoe resisted the urge to look over her shoulder toward Hawk. “I can take it if he can.”

“If it makes any difference, I don’t think he’s taking it well at all,” Trish said.

“Good.”

Trish laughed. “Do I hear just a tad of satisfaction?”

“Yeah, you probably do.” She didn’t want to hurt Hawk, but to deliver him a slap upside the head might make her feel better. Then again, it would probably make her cry, as so many things did lately.

“I think I’ll rescue Brett before they drag him into the middle of a volleyball game he’s not ready for,” Trish said. “Why don’t you go change and join the rest of us girls next to the pool while the guys play. I’ll get Cutter settled in the shade with a glass of ice tea and something to snack on until the burgers are ready.”

“All right. Thanks.”

Zoe slipped into the house with her bag and went into the bathroom. She locked the door and removed her clothes and the brace. Nervous nausea cramped her stomach. She drew several deep breaths and slipped on her bathing suit. As she wrapped the matching skirt around her hips, she looked up at the full-length mirror hung on the door.

This was a mistake. The men would be grossed out and the women would look at her with pity. She looked like a monster. The only one who hadn’t looked at her that way, had dumped her. She fought against the wave of tears that burned her eyes. Had he thought her disability would make her too dependent, as she grew older? Did he think he couldn’t live with her scars the rest of his life? If that were the case, she didn’t want to hear it.

For several moments, she breathed in and out, to regain control. She prayed for the return of the anger that had helped her stay in one piece for the last week.

“Screw it.” If he didn’t have the balls to stick it out, he didn’t deserve her.

Zoe grabbed the doorknob and jerked it open.

Hawk’s large shape blocked the door. His t-shirt hugged his well-defined chest, the sleeves banding his arms.

For a long slow moment his gaze raked downward over her breasts, her hips to her feet and back up.

At the look that flickered across his face, heat trailed over her skin, and her nipples peaked beneath her bathing suit bra.

In a blink of an eye, his expression blanked. “We need to talk, Zoe.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “About?”

“I think I’ve found out what happened to Cutter, or at least who’s responsible. But I need your help to prove it.”

Surprise held her frozen. “Who was it?”

Stress lines etched the skin around his mouth and eyes. Zoe ached to touch him.

“We’ll talk about that on the way. I need you to go with me to Brett’s apartment and see if what he was looking for is still there, or if he found them the night of the break-in and took them.”

“I can’t leave Brett. He just got out of the hospital.”

“Trish has promised to look out for him while we’re gone.”

This might be the last time she could be with Hawk, talk to him. Only he could fill the emptiness inside her—An almost physical pain struck her. She couldn’t let him go without trying one last time to reach out to him. “I’ll need to change again.”

He nodded. “I’ll wait.”

She fastened the brace back around her leg, put clothes on over her bathing suit, and stuffed the cover up into her bag. Slinging it over her shoulder, she followed the hallway to the kitchen where Hawk waited for her.

“I told Brett we needed to pick something up and we’d be back in just a few minutes,” he said.

She nodded.

When he rested his hand against her back to guide her out the back door, her heart leapt into the same fast rhythm it always did. Would she ever experience that with anyone else?

“I called your mother last night,” Hawk said as he fastened his seat belt.

Intent on fastening her own belt, Zoe raised her head in surprise. “What about?”

“I wanted to know which one of you unpacked Brett’s stuff and you wouldn’t answer my calls.”

She looked away as pain constricted her throat. “What did you expect?”

“I didn’t expect for it to hurt like this, Zoe.”

Her breath caught in her throat and hope leapt inside her like a living thing. Zoe bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

Hawk rubbed his jaw and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “I want what’s best for you. You deserve some regular guy who’ll be there for you when you need him.”

“There’s more to a relationship than that.” Her voice sounded rusty. “I thought I’d found what I needed, not someone determined to hold himself at an emotional distance. Is that what you did, Hawk?”

“No, I didn’t do that. I just thought—.” He drew a deep breath. “I kept telling myself the whole time, you’d be going back home after Cutter got better. I convinced myself that we were just having a fling.”

“Can you really compartmentalize your life like that?”

“I thought I could. I’ve always been able to do it before.” He reached for the ignition.

Zoe grasped his arm. How could he have held her, made love to her with such tenderness, such intensity, and not be connected emotionally? “I never held anything back from you, Hawk. I tried to when we first met, but—I gave you everything there was in me to give. I thought you did, too. Was I wrong? Were you playing me the whole time?”

“No!” His voice sharp with emotion filled the inside of the car. “I never played you.”

The ache she’d carried around for days eased some. “Then why did you push me away?”

He rubbed his palm over the steering wheel. “There are some things I’ve been carrying around with me for a long time. Some things that have been eating at me. When you do this job, it takes over your life, and the lives of the people you love. It’s a job probably better for men who aren’t married, who don’t have families, because there’s so much your loved ones have to sacrifice to it right along with you.”

“I knew what I’d be taking on,” she said.

“You don’t know the half of it, Zo.” He raised his head to look at her.

“You never gave me the chance.”

Hawk reached for the key, started the car, and pulled out of the driveway.

Zoe turned away to look out the window at the houses on the street as they passed. Her pulsed skipped when Hawk’s hand grasped hers, and it was a natural thing for her fingers to close around his.

“When my mother died, I was out of touch, out of the country. She died alone. I wasn’t there for her.”

The staccato sound of his words, stark, succinct, gave the impression he was ripping a bandage off a wound.

Zoe’s fingers tightened around his hand and she grasped his wrist as well. “You couldn’t control her cancer any more than she could control the danger you were in. She wouldn’t have blamed you for not being there, any more than you would have her.”

“I’ve told myself that—But she was my mother. My mother—” His throat worked as he swallowed.

“I know.” She rubbed the taut muscle of his forearm.

“I can’t be depended on to be there.”

He had said that repeatedly in one way or another ever since she’d known him. How hard would it be for a man used to being there for everyone else, to know he’d failed the one person who meant the most to him? The guilt and pain would be crushing. No wonder he held women at an emotional distance.

But she’d never felt that from him.

She didn’t even now.

“Do you want to be there, Adam?”

He glanced at her and his jaw worked. “Yeah, I want to be.”

Fresh hope surged up to drain the strength from her limbs. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Then, that’s enough.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that.”

He fell silent. They pulled into the parking garage next to Brett’s apartment and Hawk parked the car.

As they walked to the elevator, once again he reached out and grasped her hand. With an effort, Zoe controlled the need to lean into him. She had to be more certain of what he intended.

Hawk pushed the elevator button.

“You remember when I had the video images enhanced so we could see who was on the tape at the hospital?”

His change of subject drained her optimism and she sighed. “Yes.”

“Well, I had the tape transposed to a DVD and gave copies to Flash and Lang. They both worked on them. But Flash found an image Lang didn’t. So, I went back over the footage myself. The problem is there’s no such image in the footage.”

“You’re sure?”

The elevator doors opened and they got in. The doors slid shut.

“Yeah. I even took it to Lang and we went over it together.”

“So, he created the image himself.”

“Yeah.” Hawk drew a breath. “I went back to the hospital and got a copy of the footage where Derrick arrived at the hospital. The time he walked through the doors was twelve thirty-five. The time the guy walked out of Brett’s room was twelve-forty.”

“He couldn’t have changed clothes and gotten upstairs to slap Brett.”

“No.”

Zoe experienced a quick twinge of guilt. She had laid it all at Derrick Armstrong’s feet, blamed him for everything because of his treatment of Marjorie.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped off into the hallway. Zoe rummaged in her purse for her keys.

“Then it was Flash who slapped my brother,” she said as they entered the apartment. She closed the door behind them.

“I think it was, but the only proof I have is that he created an image to try and frame Strong Man.”

“He had no other reason to do it?”

“No. Not that I know of.”

Flash had tried to kill Brett in Iraq.

The night the team had set up her bedroom raced through her mind. He had teased her and asked her out for ice cream—How could he do that?

Nausea struck her and she leaned back against the chair she’d flipped over during the attack.

“He betrayed Brett and you—your whole team. He tried to kill my brother.” He grabbed me that night and terrified me.

Hawk ran a hand over his eyes, the gesture weary. “I’m a little numb about it now, Zo. I’m sure it will hit me later. But right now—I have to stay focused. I have to finish this before we’re called up.”

She nodded.

Hawk cleared his throat and swallowed as though it were painful. “Last night when I talked to your mom, she said you both unpacked Brett’s gear. She said there were some cylindrical shaped stones stuffed into Brett’s socks. She assumed they were just souvenirs. She said she left them with you.”

“I think Flash used Brett’s gear to smuggle something out of Iraq. There’s a lot of looting going on there. I’m not sure what they might be, but there’s a market for archaeological treasures on the black market. If they’re the real deal, they could be worth a small fortune.”

Zoe’s lips parted in surprise. “We thought they were just souvenirs. If we’d known what they were—” She shook her head. “The day Flash bought the car, he helped me unload groceries out of Bowie’s trunk for the cookout at the Marks. He dropped a small stone object out of his pocket. He said it was his good luck charm.”

“What did it look like?”

“Just like the ones we found in Brett’s duffle. It was about the size of my thumb, cylindrical in shape, and had a face carved on one side. I took the ones that were in Brett’s stuff and put them in a frame for him. It was going to be a housewarming gift from me and mom.”

She motioned for Hawk to follow her down the short hallway. Decorated in cream and brown, the small bedroom held a dresser, a chest of drawers, a bed and a nightstand.

She went to the chest and opened one of the drawers to find it a jumble of unpaired socks. She ran her hands under the socks but felt nothing but the lining of the drawer. She pulled open the next drawer, and the next, searching each one. “It’s not here. And I know I put it in here.”

Hawk opened a dresser drawer and looked through it. She crossed the room to search the drawers on the other end.

“If Flash needs money, why would he buy a car worth sixty thousand dollars?” she asked.

“You missed his news earlier. His car was stolen a few days ago, right after I saw him driving it last.”

“But you don’t think it was.”

“No.” He turned to search the dresser drawers. “If he set it up, the insurance will pay off the lien, return the money he paid down and whoever stole the car would pay him what they’ve settled on between them.”

“It’s because of his gambling isn’t it?”

“I think so. I think he’s in over his head and he’s desperate. When I went by his apartment last, all his electronic gear, except his computer, was gone. He said he’d put it in storage, but—” He shook his head.

“There’s nothing here,” Zoe said as she stepped back from the dresser.

“Nothing here, either. God damn it!” He shoved the drawer closed with enough force the dresser moved. He rubbed a hand over his hair making it stick up. “Without the stones, I don’t know how we’ll prove any of this.”

“You could turn it over to NCIS and let them follow the insurance fraud trail. There has to be a trail of some kind.”

“Greenback said he and Brett were arguing about something and Flash told him to mind his own business. I think Brett was trying to talk to him about this. That’s complete conjecture on my part, but the whole thing fits.”

Flash was the one who’d attacked her that night. She flinched away from the thought. “He invited me to go to Vegas with him after the break in. Why would he do that?”

Hawk froze and his gaze searched her face. “A guilty conscience. He probably never expected you to show up here. What were the odds?”

Was that why he had told her about Hawk’s mother as well? She looked up to find Hawk watching her.

“You didn’t go?” he asked.

“No. Of course not. Brett was waiting for his release from the hospital and they hadn’t settled on the exact day. I didn’t want to leave him.” And she hadn’t wanted to leave in case Hawk came to her.

“Was that the only reason?”

Zoe slid one of the drawers more firmly shut. “No, you know it wasn’t.” Her voice dwindled away.

When he reached for her, she hadn’t the will or the desire to resist. For countless moments, Hawk studied her features one-by-one with a look of such raw desire it stole her breath.

“What we have isn’t a fling, Zoe.”

“No.” She couldn’t bear it. She had to touch him. She cupped his face in her hands.

His pale gray eyes took on a feverish hue. He pulled her close and buried his face against her throat. “After the way I treated you—I don’t deserve another chance.”

“You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened with your mother.” She breathed in the scent of his skin and smoothed the thick hair at the back of his head. “You taught me how to break free of the past and reach for the things I want. Now it’s time you allowed yourself to do the same.”

His arms tightened around her almost painfully. “I want you, Zoe.”

Emotions coiled tight inside her released.

He pressed his lips to hers, their pressure harsh with need. His arms loosened, and as his tongue found hers, the kiss became, by degrees, more tender. Zoe ran her hands beneath the t-shirt he wore to stroke his back. The thrusting pressure of his arousal pushed against her.

A high-pitched ring tone cut through her desire laden concentration. Breathing hard, Hawk drew back to remove the cell phone hooked to the waistband of his cut offs. He flipped the phone open and identified himself in a brusque tone. The look on his face triggered knots of anxious tension along her shoulders, and her arms tightened.

“What is it?” she asked as soon as he hung up.

“We’ve been called up. I have to report to duty right away.”

*

How did the married members of the teams do this? Five years had dulled the memory of what it was like to walk away from a loved one for him. A week without seeing Zoe had seemed an eternity. How was he supposed to endure six months, or longer?

The other members of his team, including Flash, had already bugged out. Weighted down with gear, Langley strode through the living room and out the front door. Trish and his three children followed close behind. Cutter slapped Hawk’s back as he meandered through in their wake and walked outside.

Hawk pressed a house key into Zoe’s hand. “Try and convince Cutter to move into the house with you. There’s more room there and I’d feel better knowing you were sleeping in a bed rather than on his couch. The utilities and things come out of the bank at the first of each month. And the car will be there in case you need it.”

“Brett may not agree to that.” Her eyes looked dark against a face pale with stress, but she hadn’t cried.

“Sleep in my room. If I can think of you there, it will make me feel closer to you.” He swallowed though he hadn’t enough saliva in his mouth to do so.

She nodded. “I will.”

Jesus. Why hadn’t he fallen at her feet and told her what a fool he’d been? “There’s not enough time for me to say the things I want to, Zoe.”

“I know.”

“I’ll email or call as soon as I can. If you don’t hear from me right away, don’t worry.”

She nodded.

He grasped her hands and bent his head to kiss each one. His throat ached. “You’ll be careful.”

“I’ll be fine.” Her arms went around his neck. “Do whatever you have to to come home, Adam. No matter what it takes. Okay?”

“No matter what it takes.” His arms tightened. The curve of her breasts pushed into his ribs, as she tiptoed to align her body with his. He breathed in the vanilla scent of her shampoo then drew back to look down at her. She shed no tears, but the struggle to suppress them showed in the careful composure of her features.

“It’s only six months, maybe less.” Was he reassuring her or himself? “We can call, email. Hell, I’ll even write.”

She nodded again.

He kissed her once, twice. His chest tightened painfully, his gut tangled with emotions stronger than any he’d ever known.

“Will you wait for me, Zoe?”

“You know I will.” Her voice sounded choked.

“Hawk, man, we got to go,” Langley spoke from the door.

“I’m coming.” God, he didn’t want to. He pressed his lips against her forehead then drew away. “I love you.” The words sounded as choked as hers. He swallowed in an effort to clear his throat of the softball size knot there.

Her composure slipped, and her eyes grew glazed with tears. “I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to come outside.”

“I’m coming.”

Trish and the children huddled in a tight knot close to Langley’s car. The girls, Anna and Jessica, clung to Trish. Tad stood a little apart, his thin shoulders hunched.

Hawk waited until Lang had embraced Trish and the children before doing so himself.

Brett shook the hand he extended, his features taut. “Watch your six, LT.”

“Roger that. Watch over your sister for me.”

“Consider it done.”

Zoe stood at the car. Once again she’d managed to compose herself. “I can take care of myself.”

Her tone brought a smile to his lips. “I know. He’s going to have a hard time adjusting to not being with his unit, Zoe.”

She gave a brief nod. “I know. He’ll be back soon.”

Hawk embraced her one last time. “I’ll call as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

His lips clung to hers. If only this kiss didn’t have to end—If he didn’t have to quit holding her—He got into the car and started it. Putting it in gear and pulling away was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

Chapter Twenty-Six

‡

Brett tossed the remote control onto the coffee table. “I can’t stand this one minute longer, Zoe.”

Zoe drew a deep breath. She didn’t want to go where he was leading the conversation. She had to get him out of the house or he’d explode and she’d have to respond to that and she’d end up in tears. They’d both end up feeling bad. “Why don’t we go for a drive? We’ll go to the beach and you can get some sun.”

“God damn it! It’s been two days, Zo.” He rubbed his hand over his head, roughing up his fine blond hair and then fingering the scar on his scalp left from the surgery.

“Tell me where you want to go, Brett, and I’ll drive you.”

“It isn’t that. It isn’t about that. It’s about you. I love you. You know I do. And Hawk is one of the best friends I’ve ever had. But seeing you like this, watching you pace the floors and—grieve—”

Zoe slumped into one of the dark blue chairs. Worry weighed on her like an anchor, dragging her down, and draining her reserves. She’d tried to hide the worst of it from him, but evidently she’d wasted her time, he knew her too well.

“Do you think it’s any easier when it’s you, Brett?”

“Jesus, Zo. I don’t want to hear about it. If you tell me, I’ll think about it and it will make it—We try not to think about how you guys feel. Hell, how we feel. If we did, we wouldn’t be able to do what we do.”

“Compartmentalize.” The word sounded so cold. Hawk and her brother were anything but that.

“Yeah. Thinking too much can get you killed.”

Doc’s agony over his girlfriend and what he’d viewed as his failure came to mind. “I hope Hawk doesn’t think of me for even a moment then.”

A frown creased his forehead and bracketed his mouth. “You always said you’d never marry a guy in uniform.”

“Things change when you care about someone.”

“Jesus, it’s weird. You slept with my boss. What were you thinking, Zoe?”

That I’d finally found someone who could love me despite my flaws and imperfections. Brett’s deprecating tone made what they’d had sound cheap. Hot color stormed her cheeks and her anger ignited. “Are you being an asshole because you’re upset about that, or because you’re bored and just want a fight?”

His mouth fell open then he laughed. He leaned back and tilted his head back against the top of the chair. “All right-all right. I’m bored out of my skull.” He rubbed the top of his head again, making his hair stand up. “But it’s more than that and you know it.” His brows furrowed. “I should be with them, Zo.”

“You will be soon.” She picked up the stack of photos with labels stuck to the back. “Let’s work on your cards,” she suggested. She had been over the photos so many times she could recite the names of the weapons in the pictures herself. Learning about the weapons and equipment had helped alleviate some of her anxiety.

She held up the first one.

“Nine millimeter Sig Sauer handgun,” Brett said.

She raised the next one.

“Closed Circuit Daegar UBA.”

Reaching the twenty-fifth card she paused as he hit a blank spot. Zoe watched as his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“M-m-m 88 sniper rifle,” he said. He looked away but not before she saw the fear in his eyes.

“What does UBA stand for?” she asked so he wouldn’t have time to dwell on the stumble.

“Underwater Breathing Apparatus.” He shot her an impatient look. “Don’t humor me, Zo.”

“I’m not. I just think you should concentrate on how much you’ve accomplished in the three weeks you’ve been out of the coma and not dwell on these little glitches. Think of your brain as a computer. And you’re running a program that still has a few bugs to work out.”

His jaw tightened. “Bugs huh?”

“That sounds creepy, doesn’t it? Bugs in your brain,” Zoe wrinkled her nose. “Ewww—”

Brett rose and moved to the couch to sit next to her. “I know I’m being a pain the ass. I just can’t seem to get past this. And not being able to remember what happened doesn’t help any.”

From her own experience, it was better that he couldn’t remember. Especially if it had been, in some part, caused by one of his teammates. “Lots of people don’t remember the moment they suffer a trauma, Brett. It wouldn’t help you heal any faster even if you could.” She stacked up the cards and set them aside.

Brett laid a hand on her arm, and she glanced up. A look passed between them and she knew he was remembering the flashbacks and nightmares she had suffered. She returned to their conversation. “Maybe the doctor will release you to take a class on post. You could take one you’ve already aced and review, and test yourself. You only seem to have problems with picture identification. You know what each thing is used for and how to use it. You just stumble over the name. That will come back once you’ve imprinted that information back into your memory.”

“I suppose so. I just can’t afford for this thing to linger on, Zo. I need to be on top of things so I can return to my unit.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and hugged him tight.

Even after being in a coma, he wanted to go back. Why? Why would he want to put himself in harm’s way again?

She wanted him to get better, but if he got better he’d be sent back overseas. If he didn’t get better he’d lose a part of himself, a sense of his worth. She’d felt less than worthy for so long. She didn’t want that for her brother.

He had to make his own way, whether it put him in danger or not. She had to accept his decisions, just as she had to accept Hawk’s. “I understand,” she murmured her arms tightening around him. Pain sparked a need for Brett’s comfort, as much as he needed hers.

“I know you do. I’m sorry I’m being a pain in the ass.” Brett brushed her forehead with a brotherly kiss and gave her a squeeze. “How about you take me to the base so I can do some target practice? Maybe I’ll work off some of the mad I’ve got going if I shoot something.”

There was only so much she could do for him. He had to work things out for himself. And shooting wasn’t so physically taxing he’d wear himself out. “All right. Call the base and schedule it and I’ll take you.”

An hour later, Zoe pulled into the parking lot he directed her to in front of the shooting range. Brett got out and she dipped her head to watch him as he walked around the car and paused at the driver’s window.

“I’m trusting you with my baby,” he teased as he patted the side of the candy apple red Mustang.

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Men and their toys. Call me when you need a ride home.”

“I may be able to catch a ride. I’ll call you and let you know.”

“I’d rather you called me, Brett.”

A smile crept across his face. “All right, Mom.” Shaking his head he turned and walked down the concrete sidewalk toward a group of buildings, a navy blue gym bag swinging in his grip.

Zoe turned to back the car out and her cell phone rang. She put the car back in park and rifled through her purse for the phone.

“Hey, Zoe,” Marjorie’s voice came across sounding strained. “Would you have time to meet me for lunch?”

“Sure, I can do that. I’m on North Island and it might take a few minutes. Where would you like to eat?”

“I’ll meet you half way.” Marjorie named a seafood restaurant close by. Zoe grabbed a notepad from her purse and wrote down the directions.

It took only fifteen minutes to reach the place. It was early and the restaurant had plenty of empty tables. Zoe paused at the hostess’s desk to allow her eyes to adjust to the change in light. Marjorie, her face partially obscured by sunglasses, rose from her seat in the corner and motioned to her.

A sinking sensation struck her midriff. Something had happened.

A waitress preceded Zoe to the table and, after she was seated, gave her a menu.

“Thank you for coming, Zoe.” Marjorie’s hands shook as she rearranged the candle, a glass dish lined with packets of sweetener, and the salt and pepper shakers.

“I just dropped Brett off at the base, so I was free.”

“I’m leaving Derrick.”

Relief and sadness tangled together inside Zoe and she reached for Marjorie’s hand. “He’s hit you again, hasn’t he?”

“Yes.” Marjorie’s hands clenched into fists on the tabletop.

“I’m so sorry. Do you need me to take you to a doctor?”

“No, I just—I need—” Her lips trembled and it was several moment before she regained her composure. She clung to Zoe’s hand, her grip almost painful.

“I’m afraid to go home and get my things,” she said.

Why would she be afraid, he was gone wasn’t he? “He shipped out yesterday with his unit, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but he came home sometime this morning. It was some kind of homeland security thing he couldn’t tell me about. They flew back this morning.”

Why hadn’t Hawk called her? Was something wrong? Zoe’s anxiety spiked and she bit her lip. She dragged her attention back to Marjorie when she spoke.

“I went over to a girlfriend’s house to spend the night. I was upset about him going wheels up.” Marjorie’s lips quivered. “When he came home and I wasn’t there—He met me at the door when I came in at eight to get ready for work—”

“You don’t need to go back to the apartment without police protection. I know you don’t want to report this, but you really need to take out a restraining order and have him picked up, just to be sure. The police will call Derrick’s commanding officer and have him detained there if he’s on post.”

Marjorie nodded. “Will you come with me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I love him so much, Zoe. But I’ve been so afraid.”

Zoe moved to sit next to Marjorie and placed an arm around her. Marjorie trembled against her. Anger built inside Zoe in a wave. Damn Derrick Armstrong for doing this. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Do you think you can eat something, or would you rather go to the police station now?”

“I don’t think I could eat anything. You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

The fear in the woman’s voice, the way she trembled, triggered feelings of pity and protectiveness. “Yes, I will.”

The waitress returned with filled water glasses to take their order just as she and Marjorie got to their feet.

“My friend is feeling ill and we’re going to have to leave,” Zoe said.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, we’ll be okay.”

Zoe gathered her purse from the back of her chair and slung it over her shoulder. She looped her arm through Marjorie’s and guided her out of the restaurant. “You can leave your car here in the parking lot. We’ll come back for it after we go to the police station.”

“All right.” Marjorie began to cry. Zoe hunted for some tissue in her purse and handed it to her. She got Marjorie settled in the car and went around and got in. Murmuring words of encouragement and comfort, she pulled into traffic and turned onto Broadway where she knew police headquarters was located.

*

Hawk swore beneath his breath as he hung up the phone. Damn, Flash. He’d gone AWOL before they’d reported for the shortest deployment on record. He’d either known he was suspicious, or something had happened to him.

Captain Jackson strode out of his office and Hawk rose to his feet. “I need to speak with you, sir.”

“Has he been found?”

“No, sir. I’ve sent MP’s to his apartment and he’s not there. My guess is he’s in the wind.”

“God damn it.” Jackson’s brows slammed together and he scowled. “Come into my office Lieutenant.”

“Did you see this coming?” Jackson asked as soon as the door shut behind them.

Hawk clenched his teeth in frustration. He’d thought of the possibility but without proof he couldn’t have had Flash picked up or held. And when he hadn’t reported to duty after the call had come in, he’d sent a detail out to find him, while the rest of the team caught a plane for Houston Texas.

“Sir, all I had was circumstantial evidence and speculation. It’s in my report. There’s no hard evidence that he attempted to kill Ensign Weaver or that he smuggled archaeological artifacts into the country. But Weaver’s mother saw the cylinders when she unpacked his belongings. Weaver’s sister, Zoe, was attacked by someone who broke into the apartment and took the artifacts, without leaving any trace. A flash bang was set up to go off in my house and a warning left for me to back off. All those things fall within our skill levels.”

“You don’t think Weaver was involved in this?”

“I’ve looked into all the men’s finances, sir. There’s been no unusual movement in anyone’s accounts but Lieutenant Carney’s. Carney and Ensign Armstrong packed Weaver’s belongings. I believe that offered him the opportunity to slip the cylinders into Weaver’s bag.”

“Before the last mission, another team member heard them arguing. He said Carney told Weaver to mind his own business. I believe Weaver was trying to council Lieutenant Carney and get him to reconsider his course of action. Weaver knew about the gambling problem and suspected the money problems.”

“So where do you think Carney is now?”

“He’s painted himself into a corner. He’ll be somewhere close to a casino trying to recoup his losses. I don’t think he’ll go to Vegas. He’ll know we’ll be looking for him. Atlantic City possibly.”

Jackson rubbed his jaw and moved around the desk to sit down.

“I had hoped to settle this in house. It looks like we’ll have to go outside and turn this over to the criminal division.”

Hawk nodded, relieved. He hadn’t relished the idea of bringing Flash in to face charges. By taking the investigation out of his hands, Jackson had also removed the probability of his men thinking him a snitch for turning in one of his own men. The investigators would follow the trail of insurance fraud, and other things, and draw their own conclusions.

“I’ll take care of it, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

“Aye, sir.” Hawk saluted, turned and left the office.

Hawk drew a deep breath and returned to his office to complete another report. “There’s a phone call for you, Hawk,” Lang said as he passed him in the hall. “I think it’s Zoe.”

He’d attempted to call Zoe and tell her they were back several times and each time he’d been interrupted. God, he wanted to hear her voice. He’d wasted so much time sitting outside the apartment complex keeping an eye on her. He could have been with her instead.

He jerked up the receiver and pushed the button to connect him. “Yes.”

A silent pause had him drawing a breath. Had she hung up?

“Hawk, it’s Zoe.”

Something in her tone sounded—Concern pumped up his heart rate and he frowned. “Are you all right, Zoe?”

“I’m at the police station with Marjorie.”

Those few words kicked him in the gut. Jesus they’d barely landed five hours ago. What the hell had happened? “How bad is it?”

“She wouldn’t let me take her to the hospital. A policewoman is taking photos of her injuries now. It looks as though she has some bruised ribs and a black eye. He punched her in the face first, and when she was down, he kicked her.”

Bile rose in Hawk’s throat. “Jesus.” He took several breaths. “I’ll call the MP’s right now to alert them and have him brought in if he comes on post.”

He flinched. Could he have done more? He’d queried Derrick weekly on his progress with the shrink. And kept an eye out for any sign he was getting stressed.

But Jesus, they were all stressed. He’d been working hard to get back to a hundred percent himself before deployment. And nursing his own pain over the break-up. Had that caused him to miss something?

“You couldn’t have seen this coming,” Zoe said.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” Stupid question. She knew because she knew him. At times, they were so in tune with one another, all it took was a look or a touch to know what the other person needed. God, how he’d missed that. Could they get it back?

“Marjorie didn’t even see it coming,” Zoe continued. “For the last month he’s been doing great. No blow-ups, no mood swings. He’s had insomnia for the last few weeks.”

Hadn’t they all? Hawk rubbed his hand over his face and got to his feet to pace the office as far as the line would allow. “Are you going to stay with her?”

“Yes. She doesn’t have any family close-by. I convinced her to call her mom and she’s on her way from New Mexico, but it will take a while for her to get here. I’ve told her she can come home with me after we’re done here.”

His gut tightened. What if Derrick showed up at Brett’s apartment?

Brett was there, he’d watch out for Zoe and Marjorie. He had to talk to Jackson again. He was going to go ape shit over this. “She’ll need to come here first to take out an MPO. That way the MPs can pick him up for assault.”

“She isn’t his wife. Will a military protective order still apply?”

“I don’t know. I’ll check with my commander.”

“She’s pretty shaky. Just going to the police was a huge step for her. She may not want to do that today.”

“If you go back to the apartment, be careful. Lock up tight and stay there with Brett until I can get there.”

“Brett’s at the shooting range.”

Shit. Anxiety hugged his ribs like a tight band. He sat down behind the desk again and leaned forward to place his elbows on the blotter.

“He was going to do some target practice. I’ll call him and tell him I’m coming to get him,” Zoe said.

“I’ll send someone to the range to pick him up. You come here and get him before you go home, Zoe. Don’t go to the apartment alone, okay?”

“All right.”

“Be careful, baby. Stay alert.”

She’d be all right. She’d come and get Brett and they’d hole-up at the apartment until they could find Derrick.

God, he was thinking of one of his own men as the enemy. As SEALs, they swore to defend and protect those weaker than themselves. Derrick had broken the code. As had Flash. His whole team was imploding.

“I have to go, Marjorie’s coming out.”

“Call me on my cell and keep me posted. Try and convince her to come here and do the paperwork for the MPO.”

“I’ll call if there’s a problem. We’ll be there to get Brett in a little while.”

When they got to the base, he’d insist they stay until he could leave.

I love you was right there on the tip of his tongue when she said bye and hung up. Hawk swore. Why was that so fucking hard for him? Because every time he said it, it made him more and more vulnerable. Why was it he could deal with people shooting at him, trying to kill him, with a sort of controlled distance, and Zoe could twist him up inside with just a word or a look?

His finger was poised over the button to call her back when someone tapped on the door.

Langley poked his head in. “Captain Jackson wants us in his office ASAP.”

Hawk rose to his feet and strode around the desk. “He’s just the man I need to speak to. We have a problem.”

*

Hawk paced the outer office as he waited for Zoe and Marjorie to arrive. He turned as Brett entered the office, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. “That was a short ride, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, there and back in twenty-four hours.”

“Good. Zoe’s been driving me crazy pacing the floors waiting for you to call. You did call?”

The big brother protective vibe Cutter was putting off brought the first smile in days to Hawk’s lips. “I’ve spoken to her, but not about being back. I’ve been tied up here dealing with this thing about Flash.”

Hawk scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t about to air team business in front of the office staff. “Come into my office.” He turned and led the way and closed the door behind them.

“Marjorie called her, Derrick beat her up,” he said.

“Jesus.” Brett shook his head.

“They haven’t found him, yet. I have men out checking all the bars and any other hangouts where they might find him. No luck so far.”

Brett’s frown deepened.

“You don’t know of any place he might go, do you?”

“No. Is he in his car or on his motorcycle?”

“His bike is in the garage at the apartment complex. He’s in his car.”

“You’ve alerted the civilian police?”

“Marjorie has.”

Brett nodded. “Good. Enough is enough. I tried to talk to him, convince him to see someone the whole time we were ‘in the real world’.” Brett’s eyes narrowed in thought. He rubbed his forehead, the gesture at odds with the frozen stillness of the rest of him.

“What is it?” Hawk asked. Was he remembering something?

“There was something—” Pain flickered across his face. “I can’t get it to come. It’s like chasing shadows. I get a glimpse of something, it’s like an impression or a feeling, then it dissolves.”

Hawk hid his disappointment and slapped him on the back. “It’ll come, Brett.”

Brett shook his head. “Fuck! I hope so. It’s fucking driving me crazy.” He drew a deep breath. “What about Flash?”

“They haven’t found him. Either he’s in the wind or something’s happened to him.”

Brett slumped into a seat in front of Hawk’s desk.

“Well, with me out on medical, and Flash and Derrick gone, it may take a few weeks for them to transfer in replacements,” Brett said.

“Yeah, I’ve thought of that, too.” Hawk’s smile was grim. It might give him time to get things squared away with Zoe. Which was the one positive thing he had to hold on to in an otherwise fucked up situation.

But how many months would it take of evaluating his command skills before they dumped him into some shit detail? The men in a team were only as good as the commanding officer they followed. If he set the bar high enough. It had been his responsibility to keep these guys in line. To make sure they were the best they could be in every way. What did it say about his command skills that he’d been in the dark about so many things?

“Well this is a real cluster fuck,” Brett said after a long silence.

“Pretty well sums it up from my perspective, too.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

‡

Zoe eyed the front of the building housing Hawk’s office. She had bats in her belly just as Bowie had described, but not because she was going to jump out of a plane. Hawk was here instead of off somewhere getting shot at. Thank God.

Marjorie moved restlessly beside her. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

“Yes, I am, Marjorie. Derrick is here on post more than he’s out in the civilian world. They have as good a chance of finding him as the police. Hawk said they’d look for him if you file an MPO.”

Marjorie nodded.

“Let’s get this done and go home. Okay?” Zoe urged.

With another nod Marjorie reached for the door handle.

Zoe followed suit. The woman needed her support but the anxiety she experienced just driving around with her had kept her nerves stretched taut as an exercise band. She’d been looking in her rearview mirror expecting to see Derrick behind them all day. She’d even thought she’d caught a glimpse of his vehicle two or three times.

As they got out of the car, Hawk and Brett exited the building with several other men and strode their way.

Hawk strode toward her, his normal fluid movements quick and purposeful. Zoe noticed the lines of tiredness around his eyes and mouth. Concern had her clenching her hands, but she held off touching him. Would he want her to show any open affection in front of the men?

“I have to leave,” Hawk said as he reached them. “Something’s come up.”

Zoe’s rapid build toward joy at seeing him snapped back to disappointment with the velocity of a bungee cord. Were they going wheels up again?

“Marjorie, Brett will escort you to Ensign James. He’ll help you fill out the MPO.” His gaze shifted to Zoe. “Zoe—” Hawk’s voice sounded husky. His hand brushed down the back of her arm to her elbow. Her pulse leapt at her throat and wrists as he snagged her arm and pulled her aside. “It’s just for a few hours,” he said. “Brett will fill you in on everything. He’ll stay at the house with you both until I get there. I emptied the refrigerator before I left, but there’s stuff in the freezer to eat.”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The look of genuine caring in his eyes, being close to him, eased her anxiety and loosened the knot of tension in her stomach. “It’s all right. As long as you’re safe that’s all that matters.”

Hawk brushed her lips with a quick kiss. “This isn’t anything dangerous.”

She offered him a smile.

He climbed into a Humvee with four other men and they drove off.

“What happened?” she asked Brett as the vehicle turned a curve and was lost from sight.

“They found Flash’s car. The one he reported stolen. The front seat was covered in blood.”

Zoe bit her lip. “Are you sure it was his?”

“Yeah. He may have found the guys who took it.” Brett caught her arm and offered his other to Marjorie.

She slipped a tentative hand through his elbow.

He continued as he ushered them down the sidewalk to the front door. “Either way they’re going to do DNA and see if it matches his.”

“So he might not have gone AWOL,” Zoe said.

“Maybe not. He may have run into some trouble instead.”

Zoe drew a deep breath her thoughts spinning with possibilities. Would they ever know anything for certain?

*

In the restaurant parking lot, Zoe pulled next to Marjorie’s car.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right to drive, Brett?” she asked as she turned to look over her shoulder at her brother. He wasn’t supposed to be behind the wheel, for at least another five weeks, if then. Marjorie, sitting silently beside her, was in no shape to drive. Short of making another trip to pick up the car later, to keep it from being towed, Zoe didn’t know what else to do.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. There’s no sense in Marjorie worrying about her car and it’ll save time if we go ahead and pick it up right now.”

“Be careful,” Zoe warned as he got out of the car. He waved her off, and with Marjorie’s keys in hand, walked to her vehicle.

Sometime later as Zoe turned onto the street to Hawk’s house, Marjorie broke the lengthy silence. “I appreciate your helping me.” Even with the sunglasses obscuring part of her face, Zoe could see the bruises growing more pronounced by the hour. The woman looked exhausted.

“You’re welcome.” Zoe sought something encouraging to add. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but things will get better. Once you feel better physically you’ll be able to deal with the emotional things, too. Just take it moment to moment right now.”

Marjorie nodded.

Brett pulled up behind them in the driveway. He held up a hand to stop them at the porch and took the key Hawk had given her. “Let me go in first, Zoe.”

He opened the front door and slipped inside to disarm the alarm. She paused there with Marjorie at the threshold and looked around the living room. It appeared the same but harbored an empty air, as though no one lived there. Brett made a motion with his hand, meaning stay here. He disappeared down the hall.

He returned after only a moment. “Everything looks secure up here. I’ll check Hawk’s weight room under the sun room.”

Zoe followed him through the kitchen. “I’ll fix us something to eat.” Perhaps food would distract Marjorie while they waited. She’d had nothing to eat all afternoon. Zoe’s stomach growled. Neither of them had. “Would you like to lie down until it’s ready?” she asked.

Marjorie took off her sunglasses and tentatively touched the bruised area along her cheekbone. “Yeah, I think I would. I’m a little tired.” Her eyelid and the tissue around it was purple, the eye itself nearly swollen shut.

Zoe suppressed the urge to flinch and put an arm around Marjorie’s waist. “I’ll get you some ice. It will help with the swelling.”

Brett returned from the sunroom and Marjorie held a hand up to shield that side of her face from him.

His gaze skimmed over her, then away, his mouth tightening. “All clear.”

“Come on. I’ll show you to a room,” Zoe said.

She got Marjorie settled on the bed in her old room and went to the kitchen to get some ice.

Brett leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “You know, what we do—who we are, is about saving as many lives as we can. It has nothing to do with senseless violence against innocent people.”

“I know.” Zoe plucked a quart sized plastic bag from a box in one of the cabinets and filled it with ice. She wrapped it in a lightweight dishtowel. “Derrick has had some issues since your unit came back from Iraq.”

“Derrick had issues before we left for Iraq. If he tries to use what happened over there as an excuse—”

Zoe glanced up as he trailed off.

“Did you know he was abusive, Brett?” she asked.

“I suspected something with his last girlfriend. I tried to talk him into some counseling. Then there was something—” His gaze shifted away from Zoe and he grew silent. A familiar look of concentration settled on his face as he grappled with a memory. “Something happened over there I was going to talk to Hawk about. It’ll come back to me.” He swore, a frustrated scowl marring his features.

He straightened and reached for the makeshift icepack. “I’ll take this to Marjorie for you. She needs to know not all of us are like that.”

It was going to take more than a few acts of kindness for Marjorie to regain what Derrick Armstrong had taken from her. But she’d have to start somewhere. “Take her some Ibuprofen too, it will take down some of the swelling.” He filled a glass of water, found the tablets and left the room.

Zoe opened the freezer door and rummaged through for something to thaw in the microwave and fix. A package of chicken breasts lay on top of a bag of rice. She took both out and placed them on the counter.

A puddle of water on the floor had her frowning. Had the line for the icemaker sprung a leak? Or had something tipped over and spilled as she opened the door? She closed the freezer door to peer closer. She caught a whiff of chlorine as the toe of a man’s shoe came into sight next to her own. Shock like an electric jolt flashed through her. She grabbed the package of chicken breasts from the counter and swung them. Derrick blocked the blow with his forearm and the package went flying.

Zoe’s startled squeak cut off as he covered her mouth with a hand that easily obscured the lower half of her face. Something hard dug into her side and she glimpsed the grip of a gun he thrust into her. Her insides turned to liquid. She bent away from him bowing her back against the counter.

The hot tub. He’d hidden in the hot tub. Had he been there all the time?

His wet clothes pressed against hers. Her blouse and pants absorbed the clammy moisture and she shivered. He raised a gun that looked like a cannon and rested the barrel against her temple. His body pushed against hers, hard and unyielding, pinning her to the counter.

“You know that little surprise I left for you in the living room a couple of weeks ago?”

The flash-bang. It was Derrick. Zoe nodded tentatively.

“That’s nothing compared to what I can do. Make one peep and I’ll snap your neck like a twig, you nosy bitch. I heard Marjorie’s voice. Where is she?” Derrick Armstrong’s voice was barely a rumble of sound.

Fear, icy cold raced through her, numbing her limbs and stealing their strength. If she told him, what would he do to Marjorie?

His hand tightened against her face, mashing her lips hard against her teeth and squeezing her jaw until she thought he might break it. Zoe squeaked in pain and clawed at his fingers.

“I could kill you, you know. And I’ll still find her.”

*

Hawk placed the duffle bag, he’d carefully packed with all his gear, in the Saturn’s trunk. He should have insisted Zoe and Marjorie stay on post until he’d finished his meetings with the NCIS and the FBI. But it was good they hadn’t. It was nearly seven o’clock and he was just leaving.

They’d be safe with Brett at the house.

He’d been telling himself that for the last hour and still anxiety nagged at him.

As he drove off the base, he looked northeast toward Mission Beach where he and Zoe had spent the day only weeks before. The gold ribbon of sand stretched down the coast against the backdrop of buildings that sprawled behind it. The azure blue sky extended along the horizon wisped with a scattering of clouds.

The two months they’d known one another was not enough time for him to ask Zoe to marry him. After their recent break up, she’d want him to woo her a little, and he’d have to regain her trust before he asked her for anything permanent.

Hawk rubbed a hand over his face. Damn, he was pathetic. Why would any woman in her right mind want to carry on a long distance relationship with a man who had withheld his love from her? He’d really screwed things up.

And now they had to deal with the debris left behind from Derrick Armstrong’s behavior.

Damn him!

The team members he’d sent out to hunt for him hadn’t had any luck finding him. As long as he was out there, he was a danger to himself, to Marjorie, and to anyone close to her. His stomach hollowed with anxiety every time he thought of Zoe driving around town with Marjorie while Derrick ran loose. Helping Marjorie was Zoe’s MO. And the woman had to be protected.

Hawk wove his way down several streets toward home. A block from the house, he saw a canary yellow Jeep parked on the street and slowed. He whipped into a parking space down the street from it, and leaving his car running, walked back to the vehicle. A Trident symbol on the window had his heart racing. He looked inside on the passenger side of the car. A belt and empty holster lay on the seat.

Hawk’s heart kicked into a sickening rhythm. He ran to his car and drove the vehicle around the corner and parked it three houses down from his drive. He exited the car and retrieved his duffle bag, then walked through the neighbor’s yard to the back of his house.

The lock on the rec room sliding glass door appeared intact. He leaned forward to look through the window at the attached wiring to the alarm system. Fuck! It had been cut.

He withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Scanning the room, he eased the entrance open. The alarm system didn’t make a peep. Son-of-a-bitch. What if Derrick had already hurt someone? Cutter wouldn’t take any shit from him unless Derrick had snuck up on them and was armed.

From the duffle bag, he retrieved his Sig and a clip of ammo and loaded the gun. His movements slow and cautious, he eased up the stairs to the back porch sunroom. The cover on the hot tub was shoved to one side. A trail of wet footprints led to the glider and then to the back door. His gun up and ready, he followed them to the entrance and peered through the window.

The kitchen appeared empty until he shifted to one side to get a better view of the entire room. Derrick stood to one side, his arm around Zoe’s waist, his hand over her mouth. The barrel of a gun rested against her side.

A wave of rage and fear tore up through Hawk’s chest to his throat and for a moment it was hard for him to breath. Shit-shit-shit—If he attempted to enter the house, the fucker might shoot first and ask questions later. He couldn’t take any chances with Zoe’s safety. Oh God, please don’t let him hurt her.

Hawk’s stomach lurched, and his temples pounded. He fell back to the rec room and took out his cell phone. His hands were shaking as he flipped it open and pushed a button. Langley’s voice had him drawing a deep breath of relief. He spoke in a hushed tone. “There’s a problem at my house. Derrick’s broken in and he’s armed. He’s got Zoe. I know Brett and Marjorie are somewhere in the house. I can’t enter the premises. It might cause him to do something stupid.”

Langley swore. “Have you called the cops, yet?”

“No. If we alert them they’ll call in SWAT and somebody will get killed. We need to handle this ourselves. I need you to call Bowie and get over here. I’ll call Doc. Bring your gear.”

“I’m on my way.”

Hawk stared at the phone. If Derrick hurt her he’d kill him. But it wouldn’t bring her back. His life would be empty—empty. He had finally tasted real love, and he’d nearly blown it. He’d only had a taste of the second chance Zoe seemed to be willing to give him. He wanted more.

Stay strong, Zoe. I’m coming. I’m coming.

*

Fear poured through Zoe stealing her strength and making her limbs rubbery, her breathing harsh. Please, don’t let Brett come in here. Derrick’s grip on her jaw tightened. Though her mouth was uncovered she couldn’t utter a sound. Tears stung her eyes and her vision blurred.

“Damn you, tell me,” Derrick said and turned the barrel of the .357 Magnum against her side. All the facts about the gun Brett had recited day after day flashed through her thoughts. If he pulled the trigger there was no way she would survive. Zoe raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the hall. Derrick twisted her around, his arm around her neck holding her back against him. He forced her forward.

Brett came out of the bedroom down the hall. He jerked to a stop when he saw them, his lips parted in shock. He recovered quickly and his eyes went flat and hard. “Let my sister go, Derrick.”

“Not until I’ve seen Marjorie.”

Zoe tried to shake her head, but Derrick dug the gun into her waist and gave her jaw a painful warning squeeze.

“Don’t do this, man. You’re just digging yourself a hole you’ll never be able to climb out of.”

Derrick’s muscles bunched. “Shut up, Cutter. Get Marjorie, or I’ll twist your sister’s head off.” His voice sounded hoarse.

“I’m here, Derrick,” Marjorie appeared in the doorway. Her eye looked grotesquely swollen, her cheekbone, eye, and temple purple. The rest of her face looked paper white. “Let Zoe go. I’m here.”

Where Derrick’s brutal grip hadn’t rung tears from her, the weary acceptance in Marjorie’s features had them welling up and sliding down Zoe’s cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. I swear I didn’t.”

“I know, Derrick. But you did.” Her voice sounded weary. “Let Zoe go. This isn’t between you and her, it’s between you and me.”

Derrick released Zoe and shoved her forward. Her legs unsteady, she staggered and would have fallen had Brett not caught her.

Brett scowled. “God Damn it, Derrick. What is wrong with you?”

“She should have kept her nose where it belongs, just like you should have.”

Brett’s eyes narrowed and he pushed Zoe behind him. “You want to put that gun down and come over here and shove me around?”

Fear, abrasive as steel wool, scratched its way up along Zoe’s nerves. From behind, she grasped Brett’s arm and squeezed it tight. Didn’t he know better than to bait an unstable man?

Looking over Brett’s shoulder she noticed how haggard Derrick appeared. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his jaw shadowed with beard stubble. He held the gun next to his side yet didn’t take his finger off the trigger. All he’d have to do was raise it and fire and one of them would be dead.

“Come out from behind, Cutter so I can talk to you.” Derrick motioned at Marjorie with the gun.

Marjorie shook her head and her body trembled visibly. “Not until you put the gun away. I’m afraid of guns, you know that.”

Zoe laid a hand on her arm, offering her what comfort she could.

Derrick focused on Marjorie, intent, unblinking. “You went to the police today, didn’t you?”

She hesitated, her eyes straying to the gun. “Yes.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” There was accusation in his tone.

“Please put the gun away, Derrick.”

“You didn’t have to do it,” he shouted, his voice cracking. The sound thrummed through the narrow hall making both Zoe and Marjorie jerk as though a jolt of electricity had leapt through them.

Brett reached out a hand to ease Marjorie further behind him.

“Get out from behind Brett and face me, damn it.”

“No—No,” Marjorie started crying in earnest. “You’re going to hurt me again. You’re going to kill me. I’m afraid—I’m afraid.” She clenched part of Brett’s shirt and cowered against his side as close as she could get.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but if I have to go through him to get to you, I will, Marjorie.” Derrick cocked the gun at his side. The soft snick echoed over and over in Zoe’s head growing louder and louder. The hallway seemed to shrink and become claustrophobic.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you but—You won’t be here when I get back. You won’t stick it out. You’ll be with some other guy, laughing with him, touching him, sleeping with him. Doing things with him you’re only supposed to do with me. I thought you were already.”

“You didn’t go to Jessica’s, did you? You didn’t hurt her did you?” Marjorie asked a note of panic in her tone.

“Fuck her. Why did you go running off to her the minute I was gone?”

“Because I missed you, Derrick. I needed to have someone with me.”

The open pain in Marjorie’s voice punched through Zoe making her chest ache and her throat tighten. With Derrick standing just a few feet away, threatening and unstable, the words she and Hawk spoke outside his office seemed mundane and useless. Why couldn’t they have said something important to one another? Why hadn’t she told him she loved him?

Brett’s muscles grew taut as he tried to cover them both with his body. “She’s terrified, Derrick. Put the gun down and we’ll all sit down and talk,” he said, his tone soothing.

Derrick’s face grew flushed and he scowled. He took two strides toward them, raising the gun as he came. He pressed the barrel of the weapon against Brett’s forehead with enough force that he had to tilt his head back. “Shut the fuck up, Cutter. If I wanted your advice, I’d ask for it. Stay the fuck out of my business or I might just finish what I started in Iraq. You should have never put that kid between us, Cutter.”

Brett braced his feet apart to maintain his balance. “What kid, Strong Man?” Brett’s conversational tone belied the fact he had a gun pointed at his head.

Derrick’s eyes narrowed. His tone grew scoffing. “Always the hero. That can get you killed real quick, you know.”

Derrick reached for Marjorie’s arm and Brett blocked the attempt with his own. “What do you mean, Derrick?”

Distracted, Derrick’s aim wandered away from Brett’s head and Zoe drew a shaky breath as the gun pointed at the ceiling.

“That kid would have just as soon killed you as looked at you.”

“What kid?”

Derrick’s gaze grew steady and dark as though he were focusing on some distant place inside his own head. “It doesn’t matter now, you don’t remember, and I’m never going to tell you. You’ll just have to figure it out for yourself.”

He lunged at Marjorie grabbing her arm. She squealed in protest and tried to pull away. Brett knocked the gun aside and twisted to one side in an attempt to shove Derrick back.

Zoe staggered back against the wall. Brett struggled to gain control of the gun. The barrel of the 357 swung toward Zoe’s face. With a frightened cry, she grabbed both Derrick’s wrist and the barrel of the gun. She tried to twist it from his grasp.

The front door crashed inward and Langley appeared in full body armor as Hawk stepped in from the kitchen doorway, a taser raised and ready. He fired and almost simultaneously the Magnum leaped in her hand as it discharged blowing a hole in the wall next to her. The magnitude of the sound jerked a startled yelp from Zoe. Sheetrock dust and insulation flew through the air. Derrick screamed and fell to the floor his body jerking from the electrical current as though he were having a seizure.

Doc, Bowie, and Langley, battle ready and armed, rushed into the hall. As a unit, they pointed their guns at Derrick. After holstering his weapon, Bowie whipped out plastic handcuffs, rolled him over and secured his hands behind his back. Langley retrieved the Magnum from the floor, while Doc bent to check Derrick’s pulse. The only sounds in the hall were the dispassionate, well-trained replies of “target is secure” and “clear”.

Hawk shoved the taser into Brett’s hand as he pushed passed him and Marjorie. He reached for Zoe.

With a sob, she went into his arms. His Kevlar vest, stiff and rough, pressed into her breasts and his utility belt dug into her stomach. She didn’t care. They were all safe and his arms held her close.

She drew back to look up at him, her vision blurred, and blinked away the tears that continued to fall. His gaze had never been more intent. His hands trembled as he ran them over her shoulders and arms as though checking for injuries and brushing the tufts of insulation away. “I love you, Zoe. I love you.”

His voice sounded muffled beneath the ringing in her ears, but she heard him. A sweet tangle of emotion rushed through her, and she smiled through her tears. “I love you, too.”

When Hawk bent his head to kiss her, her arms went around his neck and she rose on tiptoe to meet him halfway.

As their lips met, one word rang out behind them in a masculine chorus.

“Hooyah.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

‡

“Come on, Ensign Clark. I know you can do it,” Zoe said as she watched the young sailor struggle to maintain his balance between the parallel bars. She gripped the gate belt around his waist to steady him as he lifted his foot just enough to slide it over the floor, lay it down, and then shift his weight. His breath came in quick gasps. Sweat beaded his forehead dampening his blond hair in front and darkening it. He paused a moment before raising the other foot.

“Jesus, this hurts like a son-of-a-bitch,” he said as he got the other foot going.

She grimaced in sympathy. “After having both legs nearly crushed, you didn’t expect they’d work just like new the first time out, did you?”

“Well, a guy can hope can’t he?”

“We certainly don’t dissuade hope around here. Isn’t that right, Tank?” She shot a look at the man standing directly behind Ensign Clark. He stood eight inches taller than the young serviceman and looked as though he could bench press a truck.

“Yes, ma’am.” Tank retrieved the wheelchair, ran it between the parallel bars and lined it up behind Clark. He set the brake.

Zoe gripped the gate belt harder. “Just ease yourself down now. Tank will help you. Take it slow.”

Once seated, Clark took several cleansing breaths. Zoe grasped one rail of the parallel bars to maintain her balance and bent to pick up the paper towels she had left lying on the exercise mat close by with a bottle of water. She offered them both to Clark and he grinned.

Another PT called to Tank for some help. After unbuckling the gate belt and removing it, Zoe leaned back against the parallel bars to wait for Tank’s return. He’d take Ensign Clark back to his room as soon as he was finished with the other patient.

Clark tucked the water bottle between his thighs and wiped his face. “How long have you been a physical therapist?”

“Here in California, almost six months. I practiced two years in Kentucky.”

He pointed the water bottle at her left calf encased in a brace. “How long since that happened?”

Her capris pants hid the scars on her thighs and buttocks but the more sever ones on her lower half of her leg were completely visible. She’d soon found showing her own scars encouraged the men not to be so conscious of theirs. “Since I was seven. Both my legs were involved too. It took me nearly a year to learn to walk again.”

“Shit!”

“You’ll get there Ensign Clark.” She patted his arm.

“Aren’t you going to give me a pep talk and tell me, if you can do it, I can, too?”

“Do you need me to?”

He grinned again. “Yeah, I think I could use a little moral support. You could come eat dinner with me when you get off.”

Zoe rested her hand on her protruding stomach and shook her head, amazed. When she had first started the job every new patient started out this way. Flirting came as natural to these guys as breathing. Now that her pregnancy was so pronounced, she couldn’t believe he was serious. “I have a boyfriend.”

“I heard. He’s in Iraq. It would just be dinner and he’d never know.”

Zoe studied Ensign Clark’s face. Young, handsome, and despite his current mobility problem, he’d be up and going again, as long as he did his therapy and kept a good attitude. She experienced not a single spark of interest. “I’d know, Ensign. I love my boyfriend.”

“So it’s the real deal, huh?”

“Yes, it is.

There was just enough regret in the young soldier’s face for Zoe to feel flattered.

“He’s a lucky man.”

Thinking about the loving message Hawk had sent her that morning via e-mail brought a smile to her lips. “I’m a lucky woman, too.”

Tank returned just then and grasped the handles of the wheelchair.

“See you tomorrow, Ensign.” Zoe waved briefly as she moved out of the way so Tank could push the chair through. She scanned the room on the lookout for her next patient.

Exercise mats covered several areas of the floor. Padded benches lined the walls at equal intervals. Three sets of parallel bars stationed in each corner of the room were in use, the fourth, where she stood, was the only one free. The injuries they saw each day ranged from accidental injuries like Ensign Clarks, to amputations suffered in battle.

Knowing she was needed and appreciated by the men, helped her continue to get up each day. And it helped pass the time until Hawk returned from Iraq. The baby moved and she rubbed the spot where a tiny limb protruded. “Please let him come home before the baby’s born. I don’t want to go through this alone,” she murmured beneath her breath.

“Zoe,” Brett’s voice came from a door to the left. She turned to face him. His intent expression had anxiety slicing through her. His long stride ate up the distance between them.

“What is it?” she asked her tone high-pitched with fear.

“Easy, Sis.” Brett reached for her and gave her a squeeze. “It’s nothing bad.”

She drew a deep breath as her heart thundered against her ribs. “You never come here. I just thought—” She turned her face against his shirt as quick tears burnt her eyes.

“Shh—” Brett gave her another squeeze. “I should have called before I came. I just wanted to surprise you.”

Zoe rested against him until the rush of emotion subsided. She drew back to look up at him. “It is a surprise. You never willingly show up here.”

“I need you to go somewhere with me.”

“I have one more patient, then I’ll be free.”

“Tank has agreed to take him for you.”

“Tank isn’t qualified to take him for me.”

“Lt. Cameron said she’d supervise for you. It’s important, Zo.”

She studied him for a moment. Now that the fear had passed she grew more curious. “Where is it you want me to go?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, now would it?”

She grimaced in agreement. “All right. Let me get my purse from my locker.”

Brett grinned. “Good.”

“Have you heard from Hawk today?” Brett asked as they got into the car.

“Yes. He emailed me early this morning. I know he tries to paint a rosy picture to keep me from worrying.” She buckled the seat belt as he backed out of the parking slot.

“You do the same for him,” he said accusation in his tone.

Zoe ran a hand over her stomach. “The only thing I want him thinking about is coming home. I’m not going to cause him any distractions.”

“For someone who used to be determined never to get involved with a man in uniform, you’ve turned into the perfect military spouse.”

“I’m not a spouse, just a girlfriend.”

“Hawk will want to get married as soon as he finds out about the baby. Hell, he’d have married you before he left if everything hadn’t gone to shit.”

If he’d known she was pregnant, they might have both been in a little more of a rush. But she hadn’t wanted that. Zoe brushed at the soft curls that feathered around her face. “We’ll deal with everything when he comes home.” When he comes home. He had to come home.

“Where are we going?” Zoe asked as a guard waved them through the gates at the base.

“We’ll be there in a minute.”

“How is the class going?” she asked.

“Fine. I only draw a blank now and then.”

Zoe’s throat grew tight. She knew he was making light of things so she wouldn’t worry. “Brett, please don’t sugar coat things. I want to share things with you. I need to know you can talk to me so I won’t feel I can’t talk to you.”

Brett glanced in her direction then reached for her hand. He gave it a squeeze. “I really am doing okay, sis. The new assignment has gone a long way to ensuring that.”

“Good, I’m glad.” She paused. “And how did your visit with Derrick go?”

“He finally admitted he knocked me out and left me to die.”

His tone sounded so subdued, so weary, Zoe laid a hand on his arm in comfort. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “He still won’t explain what happened with the kid.” Pain flickered across his features. “I thought we were buds as well as team mates.”

“Is he getting counseling while he’s in prison?”

“Yeah.”

Zoe shifted the conversation. “Wonder who it was that slapped you in the hospital?

“Since it wasn’t Derrick, it had to be Flash. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know why since he’s probably dead.”

He turned into the fenced in area of the Miramar Air Station and parked the car. He glanced at his watch. “We’re here.”

Suspicious she asked, “What are we doing here at the air field?”

“Hawk’s plane will be touching down here in a few minutes.”

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked down at the rounded curve of her stomach. The instant joy, followed by panic, set her heart to flight. “He doesn’t know. I’ve been waiting to tell him.”

“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now.”

“But I was holding off because I was hoping he’d propose before he knew about the baby.”

Brett rolled his eyes. “You know he loves you, Zo. He damn well better propose now that he’s knocked you up.”

Zoe narrowed her eyes. “You have no romance in your soul Brett.”

“There’s Trish,” He pointed at the woman as she got out of her car and walked toward them.

Zoe got out of the car and moved to meet her halfway. Trish gave her a hug and looped her arm through hers.

“Hawk wanted to surprise you. He asked Langley to tell me to hold off telling you.”

Zoe blinked as she fought back tears and ran a trembling hand over her abdomen. “It’s going to be a surprise for the both of us.”

Trish gave her arm a squeeze. “A good one, huh?”

“Oh, God. I’ve been working all morning. I didn’t have time to brush my hair or freshen my make-up.”

“Too late for that now. Come on.” Trish tugged her toward the gate. Brett fell into step with them.

The guard at the gate waved them through after looking at their IDs. The other girlfriends and wives clustered together before the terminal. Several called out greetings to Trish and to her.

Zoe’s emotions seesawed back and forth between joy and anxiety. By the time the plane came into sight, she reached out and gripped Trish’s arm hard. Brett rested soothing hands on her shoulders.

The huge transport touched down with a scuff of its tires and taxied to the terminal. The rear door opened. Men loaded down with duffle bags filed down the ramp. Cries of pleasure broke out as women recognized their loved ones and raced forward to meet them. Langley appeared and Trish pulled away and ran to him. He caught her to him and kissed her.

Zoe looked back at the plane. Hawk’s tall form came into view. His hair was long and shaggy and hung around his lean face glossy and dark. His Indian heritage had never seemed more apparent. For a brief moment he looked like a stranger.

His eyes scanned the crowd as he came down the steps. He spied Brett then wove his way toward him his gaze still searching. He finally saw her and her stomach plunged and her heart raced as the familiar punch of love and longing coursed through her. Tears welled up and she limped forward. Hawk dumped the duffle onto the ground and his long strides covered the distance.

He was there before she could catch her breath. His attention homed in on the rounded bulge beneath her loose top. His eyes widened in surprise. He faltered a moment, and then a smile split his lips wide.

Relief had tears blurring her vision.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said as she went into his arms.

“I love you, Zoe.”

Hawk curved her closer and she rose on tiptoe to press tight against him. He kissed her with all the pent up emotion of a six-month separation. When he drew back, he didn’t release her, but palmed the rounded curve of her belly. “God, Zo. What a homecoming gift.”

She laughed in relief. “I love you so much.”

“Are you, both of you, all right?” he asked, a touch of anxiety shadowing his face.

“Yes.” She covered his hand with her own. “We’re wonderful now that your home.”

“I’m a little late from the look of things, but I have something for you.” He reached into his jacket pocket. He popped open a wide jewelry box. Inside nestled a set of three rings fashioned from white gold with turquoise stones imbedded. Arabic words etched into the face of the wedding bands, foreign and beautiful.

“They say forever in Arabic, Zoe. I took a chance and bought wedding bands to match hoping you’d make an honest man of me? Will you marry me?”

His pale gray gaze was so intent, his expression so eager, she started to tear up again but laughed instead.

No matter how far away he was, her love would follow him, as his would rest inside her—deeper than the child she carried. She had no doubts. She was right where she was supposed to be. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

Hawk kissed her again, his lips clinging to hers, his tongue tangling with hers so thoroughly they were both breathless when he raised his head. He removed the engagement ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. “What do you think?”

Zoe said the only thing she had breath left to murmur. “Hooyah.”

*

About the Book

Knowing all too well the sacrifices a woman must make, Zoe Weaver refuses to get involved with a man in the military. But when her brother, Brett, is injured during a mission, she has no choice but to ask for Lieutenant Adam ‘Hawk’ Yazzie’s help to discover who is responsible. If only she could ask him to be less irresistible, too.

Hawk is torn between loyalty to his men and his need to see justice done. But when a troubled teammate threatens Zoe’s life, as well as the brother’s she’s fought so hard to save, Hawk must lead the rest of the team in a rescue operation or risk losing the woman he loves.

About the Author

Teresa Reasor is a writer, teacher, and artist. After retiring from her day job of twenty-one years as an Art Teacher at a primary school and her night job of ten years as a College Instructor, she is now pursuing her DREAM job as a Full-Time Writer. She is a multi-genre published author of historical, military, and paranormal romantic suspense.

For more information on current and past releases you may:

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Books by Teresa J. Reasor

BREAKING FREE (BOOK 1 OF THE SEAL TEAM HEARTBREAKERS)

BREAKING THROUGH (BOOK 2 OF THE SEAL TEAM HEARTBREAKERS)

BREAKING AWAY (BOOK 3 OF THE SEAL TEAM HEARBREAKERS)

TIMELESS

HIGHLAND MOONLIGHT

CAPTIVE HEARTS

SHORT STORIES

AN AUTOMATED DEATH

TO CAPTURE A HIGHLANDER’S HEART: THE BEGINNING

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

NOVELLAS

TO CAPTURE A HIGHLANDER’S HEART: THE COURTSHIP

WHISPER IN MY EAR (Coming soon!)

CHILDREN’S BOOKS

WILLY C. SPARKS: THE DRAGON WHO LOST HIS FIRE.

HAIKU CLUE (Coming soon!)

SEAL’s Lost Dream

J.M. Madden

Copyright © 2014 J.M. Madden

EPUB Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Hear our humble prayer, O God, for our friends the animals,

especially for animals who are suffering;
for animals that are overworked, underfed and cruelly treated;
for all wistful creatures in captivity that beat their wings against bars;
for any that are hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry;
for all that must be put death.

We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity,
and for those who deal with them we ask a heart of compassion
and gentle hands and kindly words.

Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals,
and so to share the blessings of the merciful.

Albert Schweitzer

Author Note

This story is not for readers under 18.

The Military War Dogs that have taken part in the war in Iraq and Afghanistan are the unsung heroes of the wars. Numbering at about 2500 working animals, it is believed that they have saved more than 10,000 lives.

There isn’t a lot of publicity about these dogs, so I have had to take some liberties with the story, but I tried to stay as true to what I know as I could. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter One

‡

“Your bearded mystery man just pulled in.”

Dr. Willow James looked up at her assistant Nicky leaning in the doorway. “Uh oh. What’d he bring me this time?”

Nicky shook her dark head. “Not sure. Sue is helping him now.”

Willow tied off the last stitch of the spaying she was doing on Donna Sharp’s new little cat Skittles. “Put him in room one and I’ll be there in just a minute. Whatever he brought, I’m sure it’s critical.”

Her vet tech nodded and disappeared.

Wiping the little tabby’s belly, she picked her up and carried her to the holding cages in back. Laying Skittles in the basket, she tucked a piece of fleece over her to keep her warm as she came out of the anesthesia. In a few minutes she’d send Nicky back to check on the cat.

Willow walked toward room one with dread in her stomach. ‘Flynn’, as he called himself, had been coming to her vet practice for about the past year, hauling in animal after animal for her to treat and try to find homes for. Or dispose of respectfully. Dogs for the most part. Usually strays. A couple had been micro-chipped and eventually returned to their grateful owners. She’d asked him once where he found them all. Hard, shadowed gray eyes had flashed to her for a moment. “They find me,” he told her quietly.

And she believed him.

The man was imposing. Six-three anyway, thick dark brown hair and beard, tight t-shirts that showed off more muscles than should be allowed on any man. He wore jeans that cupped his ass but hung low on his hips. A knife was tucked into the corner of the pocket. Pretty damn delicious. His personality, though, left a lot to be desired. For the most part, he snapped or grumbled at everyone. After seven years in practice on her own, he made her feel ridiculously inadequate at her own job. She wasn’t sure why he kept coming in. There were a hundred other vets in the Denver area he could patronize. If she hadn’t seen the way the animals themselves reacted to him, she’d have probably asked him to go to another vet.

But the animals loved him. Dogs with no more will to live gave him a final grateful lick before they faded away. Feral cats calmed under his broad hands as if they’d been waiting for him forever. She didn’t know what he did in real life, but he should have been a veterinarian. Or a K9 officer. Maybe Search and Rescue. Something where he could use the skill he had.

With the stealthy way he walked into a room, she thought perhaps he had military experience. She’d learned early on that making him wait in the waiting room put other customers on edge because he glared at them. The staff tried to get him into a room as quickly as possible.

It was a shame he was so abrasive. The man was positively gorgeous. Dark haired and light eyed. Scrumptious.

Stupid vanity made her tighten her gut and lift her boobs as she walked into the room, ready for anything.

Flynn didn’t allow the relief he felt at the sight of the sexy vet show on his face, but the knot of tension in his gut began to ease. With barely a glance at the table, she crossed to the sink to wash her hands, tossing her long black braid over her shoulder.

“Tell me what you have, Flynn.”

“It’s a dog.”

She frowned at him as she dried her hands. “Are you sure?”

He understood what she meant. The scrap of bones on the table barely classified as anything. It weighed less than thirty pounds, according to the scale out front. The frame of the animal was built for much more.

Dr. James leaned over the dog, ran her hand over its head and tilted its face up to look in the eyes. Unhooking the stethoscope from her slender neck, she held the end to the dog’s chest, listening for a moment before moving it to the belly.

Flynn hated this part of the ordeal. The waiting. The scales teetering. When the animals were this bad, he knew chances usually ran at about eighty-twenty on the negative side whether or not they could be saved. The dog was skin and bones, and hadn’t moved from the painful curl he had found her in an hour ago.

The dog’s brown eyes had latched onto his, and he’d known he couldn’t leave her behind that fence. A cable hung from her neck, but he couldn’t find the clasp end. It had embedded into the flesh and grown over.

There seemed to be something else going on with her, though.

The doctor leaned over the table toward him, ruffling the buttery-golden hair on the dog’s neck area. Even over the odor of the dog, her fresh laundry scent tickled along his skin, tugging at him to lean closer. Flynn braced his hands on the edge of the aluminum table and stayed where he was. He didn’t come here to see the shapely doctor with the broad smile.

Right.

She reached for a strange, paddle shaped device hanging on a wall hook, waving it over the dog’s shoulders. He knew the distinctive sound the machine made when it detected a microchip, but it didn’t happen this time.

“No microchip. And this cable has rusted apart. Whoever owned this dog didn’t care that it grew into her skin, but she worked to get free, it looks like.”

Fury made the hairs of his arms bristle. “You think they knew it had grown in?”

Dr. James nodded, her soft, whiskey colored eyes meeting his. “This isn’t something that happens over night. It takes weeks, if not months for it to get this bad.” She fondled the fur for a moment, then peeled back the hair to show him.

Flynn clenched his jaw to keep from turning the air blue. The fuckers needed to rot.

“We’ll trim her up and see how bad the neck wound is. Body score; she’s between a one or a two. More toward a one. This pretty girl hasn’t been fed for a while. No gut sounds at all.”

The knot in his stomach began to ease at her words. After a year of bringing animals to this soft hearted woman, he knew when she started to personalize the animal she was going to do her best to save it.

The doctor flexed the dog’s legs, then began to palpate her stomach.

“Oh, no.”

“What?” he demanded.

The doctor blinked up at him, frowning. “She’s pregnant.”

Flynn looked down at the emaciated thing on the steel table, unable to believe she had anything to give a litter of puppies. “Are you sure?” he snapped.

The doctor looked up at him with that look she had. “Yes, I’m sure. Not very many, but there are at least a couple in there.” She ruffled the dog’s head. “Okay, Mama, we’re going to fix you up.”

This was normally the point where Flynn bowed out of the scene and left the doctor to work her magic, but the dog turned her head to look at him as if she knew what he was thinking. Unable to help himself, he reached out to rub along her jaw. Her fluffy tail thumped against the table.

“Where did you find this one?”

“Industrial district.”

Dr. James frowned. “Hm. She looks like she could be a decent dog if they’d just taken care of her. But they left her to strangle. I’m glad she got away. Bastards.”

Flynn seconded her exclamation. If a person didn’t plan to take care of a dog, why would they have it in the first place? The animal looked at least part Shepherd, with her dark face and lighter body, but he couldn’t be sure.

Nicky, the vet tech, stuck her blond head in. “You’ve got an emergency coming. Hit by car. They’re about ten minutes out.”

The doctor nodded her head, examining the cable around the dog’s neck. “Okay. Thanks, Nicky. Why don’t you carry Mama here back to the cages? We’ll work on her after the emergency.”

“Mama? She’s pregnant?” She stepped more fully into the room. “No way. You poor thing.”

Nicky reached to pick the dog up, but Flynn waved her away.

“I’ll move her.”

The women stood back as he lifted the dog carefully into his heavy arms. Nicky pointed down the hallway. Flynn knew the way; he’d done this before. Kneeling in front of the biggest cage on the bottom, ignoring the twinge in his hip, he leaned in and placed the dog carefully on the padded mat. The doctor held a blanket over his shoulder and he used it to tuck around the dog. Her dark-chocolate eyes watched every move he made but she didn’t seem fearful. He paused before he closed the door to run his hand over her head one more time. Then he forced himself to his feet and walked out of the practice.

Willow watched Flynn’s broad back disappear down the hallway. The man was such a chatterbox. She snorted to herself in derision. His nice ass kind of made up for his lack of conversation skills, though.

She took care of the dog hit by the car. It was a big old yellow lab, with more happiness than sense. He wiggled his whole body for her when she walked into the room and snuck in stealthy licks wherever he could. There was a long scrape on his rear leg and some weakness, but no breaks. She x-rayed the dog, but didn’t see any reason to be concerned. Cleaning his would, she wrapped his leg in bandage, talking to the distraught owner the entire time. But her thoughts were on the mama dog and her future. She would have to be careful with the anesthesia; she didn’t want the puppies to go too far under. Mama was already stressed.

Nicky had everything set up by the time the Lab was released and they worked quickly to shave the mama dog’s neck while they waited for the drugs to knock her out. Once asleep, with her neck shaved, Willow truly got mad. Usually she could disengage herself enough to care for the animals, but sometimes their circumstances worked their way through her hard shell. This dog had suffered for a long time. The cable had been around her neck long enough that the skin had completely grown over it. The only break they got was the infection that had set in. When Willow pulled on the exposed end of the cable, it slid through the slimy pus and out. She irrigated it as much as she could, then stitched in a couple of drainage plugs so the infection could leave the area. Nicky smeared the entire band with antibacterial ointment just as the anesthetic began to wear off.

Willow stroked the dog. “Hi, Mama. You did good today. Good girl.”

The dog’s tail thumped weakly but she didn’t raise her head. Willow didn’t blame her; she’d been through a lot. And she still had a long way to go.

Flynn waited for a solid week, seven days exactly, before he allowed himself to stop at the vet’s office to check on the dog.

The plump, gray-haired receptionist smiled at him when he walked in the door.

“Where’s the vet?”

Sue, he thought her name was, blinked behind her owlish glasses, looking beyond his shoulder. “Not another already?”

Flynn shook his head once. “No.”

Pushing to her feet, she went through the door at the back of the office, behind her desk. She spoke to someone on the other side, then returned to her chair. “She’ll be in in a minute.”

Flynn paced the almost-empty waiting room, tempted to walk out through that door. Now that he’d committed to seeing the dog, he wanted to see the dog.

Assuming she was still alive. He didn’t want to think about what he would do if she weren’t. Her eyes had haunted him all week.

Dr. James stepped in from the back door then and grinned when she saw him, her white teeth flashing. She looked a little excited to see him.

“Come on back, Flynn.”

He walked around the end of the counter, behind the receptionist and through the door at the back. Outside there was a concrete patio with a large kennel at one end. It was roofed and had been sectioned into several smaller kennels. In a fenced-in area off to the right, the dog he had brought in wandered the edge of the fence. Her blondish-brown colored coat was shaved down to the skin on her neck, but even from a distance he could tell she had already gained weight. Hell, she was on her feet. That was an incredible change from last week.

The dog spotted him when he walked out and stopped in an alert pose, ears pricked, then started toward him. Her face was darker than the rest of her body, but her eyes were bright. The way she walked highlighted the roundness of her belly. As she drew near, she whined, then sat patiently in the grass.

Flynn wanted to lean down and ruffle her fur, but he forced himself to stay away from her, his feet rooted to the patio.

“You can pet her.”

He glanced at the vet. Her arms were crossed over her plump breasts, and she was smiling at him a little oddly. The bright summer sun shone down on her glossy hair and pinkened her round cheeks. His behavior probably seemed strange, but it was as much as he could do right now.

“No, I just wanted to check on her.”

The doctor’s too-knowing eyes watched him for a moment, then she smiled slightly. “She’ll recover fine. The cable came out of her neck easier than I expected and amazingly she hasn’t gotten any more infection in it. I’ll take the drains out next week and she should be good to go. Once she bulks up a little bit, she’ll be a good-looking dog. She looks like she has Belgian Malinois in her, so I may be able to adopt her out to a local PD or something. I think whoever had her before realized she would be a handful. Even pregnant, she loves playing ball. We’ve named her Maya for now, till someone takes her.”

Flynn clenched his jaw as an automatic argument filled his throat, but he did not give it voice. His chest tightened to the point that he couldn’t breathe, and whispers of smoke burned his eyes.

No. It’s not real. It’s a dream. It’s not real.

For the first time, the flashback let him go without dazing him. Maybe it was the sun shining down, or the fact that he knew he had an audience. Either way, awareness returned quickly.

Two pairs of eyes, whiskey gold and chocolate-dark, stared at him hard. Dr. James had moved just a couple of feet in front of him, and her hand was held out above his arm as if she’d been about to touch him. Turning sharply away from her concerned face, he walked to the back door of the office.

“She looks good. Thanks, Doc.”

He stopped at Sue’s desk long enough to drop a few hundred dollar bills on the surface, then walked out the front door.

Willow had to keep her feet planted so that she wouldn’t chase the enigmatic man down.

What the hell had that been?

One minute he’d been looking at the dog, and the next his face had tightened as if he expected pain. She’d stepped forward but had hesitated to touch him. Something about the way he’d clenched, as if he were prepared to fight, set her senses on edge. But his eyes had cleared seconds later.

If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was some kind of attack.

He’d made a reference that had sounded military before, but that had been months ago. They talked when he came in, but it tended to be short and to the point with him.

She looked at the dog on the inside of the fence. Maya stared at the door as if waiting for him to come back, a slight whine coming from her throat.

“I know, Maya. He’s intriguing, isn’t he?”

The dog looked at her as if she understood Willow’s words, and plopped her bottom into the grass.

Willow had had the dog for two weeks when she went into labor late one night. Every evening she did a final walk-through to make sure all of the animals were good before she headed home. She was especially glad she had that night, because the first oversized puppy would not have survived if she hadn’t been there to help.

Maya quivered and strained but couldn’t deliver. Running out of options, Willow had to sedate her and do an emergency C-section on the poor thing. She’d called Nicky back at the first sign of distress and the assistant arrived just in time to clean the three good-sized puppies. While Nicky dealt with them, Willow spayed the dog and sutured her closed. As soon as the anesthetic wore off the determined mama dog cleaned her puppies and made them her own. Willow grinned at the dog’s single-minded determination, so glad that her maltreatment didn’t seem to have affected the whelps at all.

Walking home that night through the exercise yard, Willow debated calling Flynn. He’d paged her answering service once to get in touch with her, so she had his number. Actually, it wasn’t the first time she’d thought about calling him. But her reasons weren’t necessarily professional. They were more along the lines of hurry-up-and-ask-him-out-so-you-can-get-shot-down-and-get-on-with-your-life reasons.

Hell, he probably had a skinny little wife at home. Not all men wore jewelry if they were married. And as good looking as he was, if he didn’t have a girlfriend or wife, he was either a player or gay. Neither of which she needed.

In the end, she erred on the side of safety and decided not to call him. If he wanted to know about the dogs, he could call or stop in like everyone else did.

Besides. If he couldn’t commit to a dog, she doubted he would be good dating material.

Chapter Two

‡

It was another three weeks before Willow saw Flynn again. She happened to be standing at the reception desk talking to the final patient of the evening when his big black truck pulled into the parking lot. He jogged around the back of the truck, and she knew whatever he’d brought her was in bad shape. She hurried outside to meet him.

More grim faced than normal, mouth clenched, he glanced at her as she neared but didn’t wait for her help. Hoisting a blanket-wrapped form into his arms, he turned from the truck.

“Get the doors,” he snapped.

Willow slammed his truck door shut then dodged around him to get the office door. “Room one.”

She followed his broad back into the room, not bothering to wash her hands. She had a feeling it wouldn’t matter with this patient.

Flynn placed the bundle on the stainless table, then began to unwrap it from the blanket. “I found her laying on the edge of a country road. I think she’d been there for a while.”

Willow forced back a cry as she saw the dog for the first time. Obviously, she’d been hit by a car. The long line of her broken jawbone was exposed and Willow could see through to her raw tongue. Ticks were on every spare inch of her body, some so engorged with blood they’d fallen off onto the blanket. The dog’s chest lifted in a slow breath and Willow couldn’t believe the poor thing was still alive. Her dull eyes blinked slowly, glazed with pain.

“I think her back is broken.”

Willow reached for the dog’s spine. Not only was it broken, it was shattered. There were no complete vertebra from her diaphragm on. She reached for the dog’s rear foot and pinched her toes. They were cold to the touch and didn’t respond to the pressure.

Sadness made her throat tight as she looked up at Flynn. His gray eyes were hard, but she could see the desolation he tried to hide. He knew as well as she did there was no hope for the dog. It was why he’d brought her here.

Throat tight, Willow readied the shots to put the unfortunate dog to sleep. There was no flinch as the needle slipped into her skin, only a shallow sigh as she went quietly to sleep. The pain in the line of her body eased.

As Willow administered the second shot, she reaffirmed to herself why she’d become a vet. To help those that she could, and to ease the suffering of those she couldn’t.

Fitting the stethoscope to her ears, she pressed the paddle to the dog’s chest and listened to her heartbeats slow, then stop altogether. She listened for a few more seconds, then drew away, re-covering the dog with the blanket.

Flynn stared at the bundle, shaking his head slightly. “Why am I always the one to find them?”

Willow was surprised at the personal question and responded to the pain she heard in his heart. She circled the table and dared to reach for the man’s broad hand. He stiffened but didn’t pull away. When he looked up at her, she smiled at him. “Because they know that you will care for them like no one else ever has, in the most vulnerable time of their lives. I’m happy she found you, because nobody else brought her in. You did. And I was able to end her suffering. She’d been laying beside that road for a couple days at least, in incredible pain. Now there’s no more pain. As traumatic as this is, I look at it as a wonderful thing. We’ve eased her suffering.”

Willow let go of his hand, surprised he’d let her hold onto it as long as he had. She moved to the sink and scrubbed.

“Wash up, I need to show you something.”

Flynn blinked at her but moved to do as she instructed. Once he was done, Willow led him through the office, out the back door and down the paver path behind the dog run. She glanced at him once to make sure he followed.

When she’d been looking for space to open her office, she’d come across this piece. The office on the corner used to be to a human doctor’s office, and the adjoining house on the opposite street had been where he’d lived. It had suited her needs perfectly, and she’d paid a little more than she’d wanted to in order to have it.

Her stomach quivered a little as she opened the door to her screened in porch, on the other side of the exercise yard from the office. Bringing strange men into her home was not normal, but he needed to understand the good that he did.

Maya looked up when Willow entered and wagged her tail. But when Flynn stepped in behind her, the Belgian Malinois stood up from her nest, dislodging three wiggling bundles. The dog lunged at Flynn, crying, wagging her tail as fast as it would go and stood on her back legs to get closer to his face.

“Down,” he growled, but it seemed instinctual, and he followed the command with a ruffling of her shoulders when she obeyed. He knelt to the floor and was almost knocked over as she paced happy circles around him.

Willow moved to the floundering puppies, picking up the fattest. He curled into her chest, snuffling, and she walked him across to Flynn.

He took the pup from her hands with no argument, holding him up in front of his face to look at the little brown dog. “How many did she have?”

“Three. Two boys and a girl. All fat and healthy, thanks to you finding Maya here when you did.”

Flynn frowned, narrowing his eyes and started to shake his head.

“Don’t you dare deny it,” she broke in. “She had problems delivering. I had to do a C-section. If you hadn’t found her when you did and brought her to me, they all four would have died. And it would not have been quick.”

Maya licked at the pup in his hands and Willow could see the reluctant acceptance settle onto his face. Cradling the pup to his chest, he reached out to pet her.

She basked in his attention, pushing as close to him as she could.

The tension that Willow normally saw in Flynn’s face eased and she wondered if he had a pet at home. She hoped not, because it looked like Maya planned to adopt him. The dog leaned against him as he played with her three babies, looking up at him as if he hung the moon.

All too soon though, the shutter came down over his face. Though he didn’t say anything outright, she could feel him withdrawing and it made her heart ache for him.

He pushed to his feet. “They look good. You’re doing a good job with them.”

Willow drew her eyes away from his molded chest to focus on his face. “I didn’t bring you over here to tell me what a good job I’m doing. I brought you over to show you what you are doing. By helping these dogs.”

His mouth worked beneath his beard, as if he heard her words but didn’t want to say anything. With a final stroke, he handed over the puppy in his hands and gave Maya a final rub. Then he was gone.

Willow sat back on the floor, wondering if she’d ever see him again.

Flynn worked as much as Duncan would let him. When he’d rolled out of the SEALs, it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that sitting in his damn lonely apartment was a terrible way to live. Hell, even going to therapy was better than stewing in his own juices. The job at Lost and Found Investigative Service, working for and with other disabled vets, had come at a critical time for him. He’d found the camaraderie there he needed to work on his issues. No, his weren’t as obviously physical as the other guys that worked there, but they were just as crippling.

The therapists continued to tell him that his PTSD would ease. Someday. Three years after he’d left the Navy, he was still waiting for someday.

Mace was everywhere. When Flynn worked out, he saw him out of the corner of his eye, just sitting quietly and watching. When he slept in bed, he could feel the weight of the dog’s body curled against his feet, same as always. He found himself tossing treats over his shoulder that were never eaten.

The psych doctors told him it was all illusion, brought on by the guilt of the dog’s passing. They dosed him with stronger and stronger pills, but the dreams persisted. Until he finally called a halt to all the drugs. Being slightly delusional was better than being delusional and drugged out of his mind. He needed to stay alert.

The dreams had started to change a little in the last few months, though. Yes, he still saw the dog, but now the voluptuous vet was there as well. Sometimes she’d be working on Mace and she’d look up at him with that bright, beautiful smile she had, her golden eyes shining with pleasure. Other times she’d look up at him with tears rolling down her soft cheeks and he knew he’d lost him all over again. Those were the nights he woke with tears on his own cheeks.

Flynn wanted to go see the vet again, because he felt a little less crazy when he was with her. She was a woman who obviously loved and appreciated animals. He didn’t feel like he needed to hide that part of his personality with her. While he moved through life looking for stability, she seemed to walk through life creating stability. Frantic owners arrived at her doorstep every day, but she had the disposition to ease them into a better headspace. That was very appealing to him.

Maya tugged on his heart too. Flynn was kind of afraid to talk to the vet again, because he didn’t want her to tell him she’d found the dog a home. It was heading into fall now. The puppies were seven weeks old, surely old enough that she’d started to look for homes for them as well. If his life were different, he’d think about taking her in, but he didn’t feel like he’d be a good owner to her.

Every time he passed the vet’s office on his way to work, he debated pulling in. But he forced himself to keep the steering wheel straight and steady, avoiding temptation.

Duncan swore up and down he needed another dog. Had even promised to adopt him a retired Military War Dog if he could find a way to use the dog. Flynn had turned him down, though. Several times. The disappointment in his boss’s face—the man who believed in him not to lose his shit on a daily basis—made Flynn feel like an even bigger loser.

Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed the towel from the bar and started to dry off. His hands slowed at his lower abdomen, fingers running over the puckered scar of the gunshot wound that had changed his life. He remembered the mind-numbing pain as if it were yesterday.

Forcing himself into motion, he tried to shake off the melancholy.

When he drove by Dr. James’ office just a little while later, the woman herself stood in the parking lot talking to an older gentleman. She wore dark blue scrubs and a lighter colored top. Her long black hair had been pulled up into a high ponytail and for a fraction of a second her eyes flashed up to his truck before he passed. Her hand raised in a wave before he lost sight of her, and a curl of warmth spread in his belly.

Willow looked up at the sound of the familiar truck, fear clutching her stomach at the thought of Flynn bringing another patient. But when she spotted the truck, it was driving past her office. Before she could stop herself, she waved.

There was no reaction from the man behind the wheel, and that was probably best. She didn’t want to break his heart if he stopped in to see Maya.

The man in front of her shifted, bringing her attention back to him. “Sorry, thought I had another patient coming in.”

Bill smiled at her, a little too friendly, and patted his dog on the head. The French Bulldog cringed under the attention and Willow cringed with her. “You know, Violet would probably appreciate being stroked on the head rather than pounded.”

Bill’s expression hardened at the subtle correction. “She appreciates any attention she gets, believe me.”

Willow didn’t like the way the man looked at her, but it wasn’t offensive enough to actually say anything about. “Hm,” she said doubtfully. “Well, she’s fine for another six months. Just watch how many treats you give her. She’s starting to gain a little weight.”

She knew by the glint in his eye that she wasn’t going to like what was going to come out of his mouth.

“I like my girls a little fuller figured.”

It was all she could do to keep in a disgusted moan. It was too early in the morning for his gross come-ons.

She put on her glossy doctor smile and turned away. Bill watched her ass the entire walk into the office, she could tell. Her ick factor was at an all-time high as she slammed the door behind her.

Sue laughed at her disgusted face when she walked in. “I told you he was in rare form today. He called yesterday and just had to get his precious Violet in. Sorry, Willow.”

She moved to lean against the counter. LoveBug, one of the cats who lived in the office, rubbed against her arm. Willow scratched her on the head. “You’re not a very good guard-cat. Why didn’t you swat him when he shoved you off the counter?”

The little cat purred her answer, arching under Willow’s hand.

“It’s okay, Sue. It’ll be a crazy day when I can say no to a pair of eyes like that. Violet, I mean. She’s such a cutie.”

Her receptionist nodded. “She’s too good for her owner, I know that.”

Wasn’t that the truth…

Willow waded through the rest of her clients for the day, but she found herself looking hopefully out the window way too often. Had Flynn driven by for a reason? Had he thought about stopping when he’d seen her in the lot?

She’d been thinking about the man a lot recently. Fantasizing. When Maya had left, she’d debated calling him to let him know, but she didn’t want to be responsible for hurting him. The man had been through a lot. She could see the ghosts in his eyes without him saying a word.

As much as he appealed to her physically, she didn’t know if she wanted to deal with his emotional hang-ups. She had enough of her own.

Maybe she could just screw him and get him out of her brain.

She snorted. Right. Like that would ever happen.

Flynn trudged up the dark path to his apartment building that night in a daze. He’d worked his regular shift, then gone for a five-mile run before sliding into his truck for the drive home. His hips ached like a son of a bitch and he knew he would be hurting even more tonight.

When he saw the shape of the dog out of the corner of his eye, he thought it was Mace. His old buddy was always there to commiserate with his pain, jogging along at his side. But when the light caught on the brighter colored fur, he had to pause to look closer.

For a moment, he thought he’d been hallucinating even that much, until Maya suddenly lunged at him from the depths of the bushes beside the building.

Flynn sank down to his knees to greet the dog and looked around for Dr. James. She was nowhere to be seen. He’d never given her anything with his name on it, let alone his address, so how the hell would she know where his apartment was?

“How did you get here dog?”

Granted, he only lived a few blocks away from the vet’s practice. She could have run here. But how did she know where here was?

Maya wagged her way around him, sneaking in stealthy licks when she could.

“Sit,” he growled.

Maya dropped to her haunches but her butt continued to wag and she whined at him for attention.

Flynn shook his head, laughing. How on earth had she found him?

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he paged through the contacts until he found the number for Dr. James’ answering service. He left a message that the doctor needed to call him, then waited. Within a half minute, his phone rang.

“This is Dr. James.”

Her throaty voice wrapped around his tired soul and he took just a moment to enjoy it.

“Hello?”

“Flynn,” he snapped. “Do you know where Maya is right now?”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “No, I don’t. She ran off two days ago and I haven’t seen her since. Why?”

“How the hell could you lose her?”

“I didn’t lose her. She escaped. Jumped over the fence like it wasn’t even there. Took off like a bat out of hell, too. Wait. How did you know to call me? Did you find her?”

Flynn paused and looked down at the dog. “No. I think she found me.”

“No way. She tracked you down? Damn, she’s smart. Give me your address.”

Flynn reeled it off without hesitation, then cursed his lack of discretion, but the doctor was already gone.

“Well, I guess you can come in for a minute, dog. Come on.”

He turned back up the sidewalk, waving the dog to follow him, but she bounded ahead and disappeared into the open stairwell of his building. When Flynn arrived at his door on the second floor, she waited for him.

“Okay, dog, you’re freaking me out.”

Unlocking the door, he swung it wide for her to enter. She did a circuit, sniffing here and there, before returning to sit in front of him, whining. Shaking his head at the manipulative female, Flynn moved to get her a bowl of water. He kept tins of dog food in his pantry for strays, so he grabbed one and dumped it into a second bowl.

Maya had eaten two tins of soft food and curled up in front of the couch on the carpet by the time there was a knock at the door. Flynn crossed the room to open it. Dr. James stood on the other side, round hip cocked and an inquisitive smile on her face.

Dressed in tight blue jeans and a black t-shirt that cupped her boobs to perfection, she was a vision. For the first time her long black hair was loose, hanging over one shoulder. She had a scrubbed look, pink-cheeked and fresh, like she’d just gotten out of the shower. His gaze drifted back to her breasts.

Maya lunged across the room to greet her, but gave her the ‘I’ve been bad’ look that dogs had. Laughing, Dr. James leaned down to pet her.

“You bad dog. You made me worry!”

Flynn didn’t know what to do. Guests never came to his apartment and he realized as he looked around that he wasn’t really set up for entertaining. He had one couch and a well-worn recliner. And more electronic equipment than any one man needed. Well, she wouldn’t be staying long.

“Did you bring a leash?”

The doctor looked at him with an odd expression on her face. “No, I didn’t actually. I just came over to check on her, make sure she hadn’t hurt herself when she’d been on the streets. I’m not taking her back. She’s made her decision on where she wants to be.”

A shiver of white-hot fear rolled down his arms. “She can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

He shook his head, unable to give voice to the five million reasons why it would be so wrong to put this dog with him. “What about her puppies? She can’t leave them and I certainly can’t take them.”

The doctor grinned, her white teeth flashing. “She weaned them herself last week. They’d been eating soft food since they were a month old anyway. It was easy to find adoptive homes for them.”

Panic poured through him, sending a wave of heat over his body. The puppies had been the biggest reason why he couldn’t take the dog. Fuck.

“I’m not set up to have a dog.”

She lifted a sleek brow in question.

“I’m not, damn it. I have a job. What’s she going to do when I’m at work?”

“You can bring her to my office for a while. Until you get into a routine.”

He blinked at the easy answer, then looked at the dog lying on the carpet. Her head lifted when he made eye contact. She was extremely sensitive to the people and the environment around her. Flynn got the distinct impression she knew they were talking about her.

He shook his head, scrubbing at his beard. “Dr. James…”

“Willow,” she interrupted. “I think we can get rid of the doctor part. You’ve been bringing animals to me for a year now.”

“Willow.” Flynn didn’t like how easy it was on his tongue. He cleared his throat. “I can’t have a dog. Seriously.”

She smiled at him softly. “Then you better tell her.”

Flynn turned away from the two of them, scraping his hand through his hair. Emotion boiled through his gut and, if he was honest with himself, excitement as well.

The dog had curled up on the floor but continued to watch him.

“I don’t think you’re going to pry her away from you.”

He glanced at the woman standing in his doorway. He probably should have invited her in, but he didn’t know if he wanted her in his space. She already invaded his dreams too much.

Willow apparently took his silence as agreement because she turned to leave. “If you bring her by the office in the morning we’ll watch her for you. I’ve missed her the past couple of days anyway. Maybe we can share custody.”

Flynn found himself nodding as she pulled the door closed behind herself and left. He caught a glimpse of her amazing ass before she was gone.

Man, what incredible game you have, Flynn. Only woman that had been in his apartment in years and he made her stand in the doorway.

Limping to the recliner, he eased down into it. Maya continued to watch him. She seemed to understand that her presence there was tenuous at best.

“What the heck am I going to do with you?”

Willow laughed softly as she jogged down the steps. The look on Flynn’s face had been priceless. It was obvious he’d just gotten back from the gym, or something, because he was dressed in jogging shorts and a fitted blue t-shirt. The slight tang of his sweat drifted in the air, taunting her to inhale more deeply, and his dark hair was damp at his temples. What was it about a sweaty man that was so damn sexy?

Maya, on the other hand, had looked extremely satisfied with herself.

It was amazing that the dog had found Flynn. Yes, he only lived a few blocks away apparently, but still. The dog needed to be trained for search and rescue work. Talent like that should not be wasted.

When Flynn pulled into the lot the next morning a few minutes after eight, Willow had just let herself into the building. She watched as Maya jumped out of the truck and kept pace with Flynn as he walked toward the door.

Flynn seemed to be limping, though.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up as soon as they came through the door and seemed surprised to see her there. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “Are you sure you can watch her today?”

Willow nodded, leaning over to pet the happy dog. “I can. We’ll keep her in the office or I’ll put her in one of the kennels. She won’t slip away again. How did she do last night?”

Flynn scowled at her. “Fine. Why do you let her sleep in bed with you?”

Willow jerked back in surprise. “Her? I don’t even let my own dog sleep in bed with me. Maya stayed on the porch the entire time I had her.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? Did she get into bed with you?”

Just uttering the words sent a tingle through her body. Damn. Could she be jealous of a dog?

Flynn’s scowl became even more fierce before he turned away. “I should be here by five. Don’t lose her.”

Laughing at the non-answer, she watched Flynn walk out the door, cross the lot and climb into his truck. Maya whined. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. He’ll be back.”

And he was, right on time. They settled into an odd schedule over the next couple of days. After the first day of pacing, Maya soon realized that he would return for her, so she settled in as one of the ‘locals’ as Sue like to call them; the animals that nobody wanted that ended up staying long-term at the office. LoveBug the office cat, Tom the mouser that liked to stay out back around the kennels, and now Maya. Occasionally Willow brought her own dog Guinness over to socialize when her appointments ran long.

On Thursday night she locked up the office and walked the dogs out to the exercise lot. It was after seven and Flynn hadn’t arrived to pick Maya up yet, so Willow thought she’d run her through some exercises to see how she did. Leaving Guinness at the fence with a firm order to stay, she led Maya to the center of the lot. Willow knew the dog was strongly food motivated, so she wore a little belted pocket around her waist, full of soft treats.

Maya seemed to understand she needed to pay attention, because she sat patiently and did everything Willow requested of her. The basic sit, down, stay were no-brainers. The dog did them quickly, and Willow realized she was responding to hand movements as much as to her voice. Somebody had put in some training time with her.

Willow pulled a tennis ball from her pocket and threw it across the yard. This was a game that Maya loved. Literally, she would chase the ball for hours on end.

Once again, Willow wondered if Flynn would consider using her for Search and Rescue work. Though she was a little old, she had the natural prey drive that was needed for the tough work.

Willow paused to think, wondering how she could get her into the program. That was when she realized she was being watched. Flynn stood at the back corner of the office braced against the wall, long legs crossed, sunglasses over his eyes. The evening sun glimmered on his hair, and his arms were crossed over his bulky chest. The immediate twist of arousal in her belly made her turn away. The man was too good looking for his own good.

Maya spotted him then and took off, leaping the four-foot fence to run to him.

Willow shook her head and waved her hand. “Did you see that? That’s how she took off to find you!”

Flynn shook his head at the dog, grinning, and rubbed her.

“Did you see what else she was doing?”

He nodded without looking up. “I did.”

“She has incredible drive. You ought to think about training her. She needs a job desperately.”

His grin faded. Even beneath the beard, she could see his jaw tighten. “Then somebody else will have to give it to her. I’m not.”

Willow frowned, planting her hands on her hips. “Well, maybe I’ll train her then.”

His chest jerked, as if she’d wounded him with her words. “I think that would be best.”

Well, hell. She’d only said that to make him realize he should train her.

“She’s not my dog. You should do it.”

Flynn shook his head, finally meeting her eyes. “I can’t.”

There was something in his voice that made her pause, mouth open, before she laid into him. It wouldn’t do any good to fight with him about it, not if he wasn’t open to the job. She had a feeling Flynn whatever-his-name-was had more knowledge about training than he was letting on.

But the pain she heard in his growl made her back off. She walked closer to the fence, calling her Lab mix to her side. “This is my dog, Guinness. I’ve had him for about six years now, and he’s a state certified Search and Rescue dog.”

Flynn pushed away from the wall to step toward the fence, but his right leg suddenly collapsed beneath him. He caught himself, but the grimace on his face told her he had to be in pain.

Willow clenched her mouth shut, unwilling to be snapped at if she asked if he was okay. Her body thrummed with the need to leap to his aid. Wrapping her palms over the chain link fence pipe, she waited for him to look at her. “Can I get you some ibuprofen? Whiskey?”

One side of his mouth tipped up. “I might take some ibuprofen if you have them laying around.”

Willow turned for her house, hoping that he would follow. Guinness jogged at her side as she slipped through the gate and turned right on the path, toward her house. She couldn’t hear his footsteps behind her, so she wasn’t sure if he would actually come in or not.

She retrieved four pills from the bottle she kept in the kitchen cupboard, along with two bottles of water from the fridge. Flynn had let himself into the porch and was trying to lower himself into the patio chair. He kind of plopped down at the end, as if his legs gave out, and he bared his teeth in pain. Willow held the items out to him, hoping he would take them and be fine. She was surprised he let her see him like this at all. He was normally all bad ass. Turning, she sat in the chair opposite from his.

Curiosity badgered at her. “Did you get hurt today?”

Maya’s head rested on his thigh and he stroked her. “A bit. It was my own doing though. I just came back from a jog.”

Willow frowned. “If it hurts that much, why do you do it?”

“To make sure I still can.”

She shook her head at his reasoning. “Just because you can do it doesn’t mean you should.”

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Agreed. But I have to.”

The hidden smile slipped away as his eyes flicked to the left, then back. Okay. That was a bit strange.

“How did you get into the search and rescue work?”

Willow blinked at the question he threw at her. Was he actually trying to engage in conversation? Or throw her off the track?

“Well,” she sighed, “I was hiking the Devil’s Head Fire Lookout several years ago and got involved in a search. That was before Guinness; before I even thought about doing SAR work. But there was a team there that just impressed the hell out of me. Waded into that dark forest and brought that hiker out within a couple hours. Most impressive thing I’ve ever seen. I was bitten. I adopted Guinness from a local shelter and we’ve been going ever since. Twenty-two searches later and we’re a solid team. We get called every couple of months. Found a few people. One little girl who stops into the office every once in a while to bring me a homemade card. It’s very satisfying.”

Flynn seemed surprised. He’d crossed his arms over his pecs and looked at Guinness lying on the floor. “He was a rescue, huh?”

Nodding, Willow reached over to scratch the dog’s broad head. “Once he came home, he settled in as if he’d always been here. And the work was easy for him. He needed a job.” She glanced pointedly at Maya. “Like she does.”

For a minute, Flynn looked incredibly sad when he nodded, and Willow noticed that he seemed depressed. She had a feeling he was gearing up to let her down. Maya seemed to sense it as well, because she lifted a paw to his thigh.

“Before you say anything, just think about it for a while. She’s not suffering right now. If you don’t mind me working with her a bit, we’ll see how she does. And maybe the next time I get a call-out you both can go with me. We always need more eyes at a search. She may not want to work when she gets into an environment like that.”

Willow knew that would not be the case, though. Maya had such intelligence wiggling through her body.

Flynn nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.

“So,” she crossed her legs. “Can I ask why you were jogging yourself into an early grave?”

He blinked at her, then down at the dog. “Trying to outrun ghosts.”

Her heart ached at the pain she heard in his soft voice, and she blinked at the echo of her own observation. “And did you? Outrun them, I mean.”

“Some,” he sighed. “Others are still here.”

Flynn sounded so matter-of-fact that she had to believe him.

“I’m sorry, Flynn. Is there anything I can do?”

He looked up at her as if he was surprised by the question, but he shrugged away her concern. “Nah. No biggie.”

Bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, he tensed to stand up, but his legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Willow started to get out of her own chair to help him, but he waved her away and forced himself that much harder. He made it to his feet, but wavered. Maya stepped in to lean against him, as if she understood that it would kill him to crash in front of her. Willow watched the pair, ready to leap out of her own chair to help if it seemed necessary. But they steadied. And she realized she was a little disappointed. Flynn was about to leave. Again. And she didn’t want him to.

“Thanks for the pills,” he told her. “And for taking care of Maya. I do appreciate it.”

Willow nodded once. “She’s no problem. Really.” She took a breath, gearing up to be hurt. “Hey. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Flynn looked shocked that she’d asked. His mouth fell open a little and his dark brows furrowed over his eyes. “Uh, sure. I guess we can.”

Willow fought not to giggle hysterically. First man she’d ever asked to dinner and she got an ‘I guess’. Awesome.

“I didn’t plan anything special. Maybe I can whip up some fajitas or something.”

His gray eyes lightened. “I can put away some Mexican.”

She grinned at the enthusiasm in his voice. “Well, okay then.”

Willow led him into the house and parked him in front of the TV. When she glanced at the couch a few minutes later, Flynn had passed out. His mouth hung open as he breathed deeply. Maya had parked herself on the couch beside him, head across his lap. Even in his sleep, Flynn rested one hand on top of her head. Willow smiled at the peaceful look on his face. It was the first she’d seen. The frown that had furrowed his brows so deeply had disappeared.

Willow cooked the chicken fajitas but didn’t wake Flynn when they were done. As exhausted as he appeared, she didn’t have the heart to interrupt the sleep he was getting. So she ate her dinner with Guinness as she did every night.

Chapter Three

‡

Flynn woke, immediately aware he wasn’t in his bed. The room was dim, but he knew without being able to see much that he wasn’t alone. Soft light filtered in from an adjoining room, and as his bleary eyes cleared he remembered where he was. Willow’s place. Even as he thought it, he realized the woman herself was curled up on the end of the couch opposite him.

His heartbeat steadied as the details in his environment settled into place. The last thing he remembered was the doc showing him how to elevate his legs on the recliner end of the super-comfortable couch before she disappeared into the kitchen. Wonderful smells had drifted through the house, but the exhaustion he fought against every day had dragged him under.

Maya hadn’t moved, though. Her head still rested on his hips, and was the perfect, natural resting spot for his hand. Her eyes rolled up to him when he moved, but she didn’t do any more than that. He laughed at her softly.

Willow roused at the sound, stretching her arms to the air. Flynn found himself staring at her breasts, then the pale glimpse of skin at her belly as her shirt rode up. Arousal coursed through him at the sight of her softly rounded shape and he was glad Maya hadn’t moved yet. His dick had suddenly taken notice.

Clenching his jaw, he looked at the luminous numbers on his watch. Two-thirty. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he’d…wait, slept for six hours. Straight through.

He looked at his watch again, unable to believe he’d gone six straight hours without moving. Normally he catnapped. Two hours at a time. Never more than three. It seemed like he’d just fallen asleep.

Willow sat up beside him on the couch, just a few feet and the warm body of a dog separating them. She smiled at him, her long black hair rumpled around her face.

“Dude, you crashed hard. As soon as Maya laid down beside you, you were out like a light.”

Flynn shook his head and leaned forward, forcing down the leg part of the recliner. His hips ached, but he could tell he’d be able to walk out of here with no problem. Maya slid away from him to pad to the door with Guinness, waiting to go outside. Willow stood to let them out, then returned to sit on the edge of the couch. Soft golden eyes surveyed him, waiting.

“I can’t believe I slept like that. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, grinning at him. “Believe it or not, I’ve had worse dates.”

Well, fuck. She’d considered this a date. Now he felt even worse.

Then his stomach growled.

Willow laughed out loud, pushing to her feet. “Want some fajitas? Go let the dogs back in while I warm it up.”

Flynn found himself eating Mexican food at two-forty-five in the morning, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. Willow teased that he snored, but he scowled. “It was Maya.”

The dog cocked her head when she heard her name and came to his hand. He fed her the end of a tortilla and she tried to climb into his lap for more.

“You’re starting a bad habit,” Willow warned. “She’s very food motivated.”

Maya certainly didn’t mind, and neither did Guinness when he slipped him a piece of chicken beneath the table.

“So who is Mace?”

Flynn froze, the food turning to wool in his mouth. He choked the bite down his throat and looked at his plate as he tried to formulate an answer.

“You mumbled his name when you were sleeping. It sounded like you were very close,” she murmured.

“We were,” he breathed.

Did he dare tell her about him? The counselors were always urging him to open up, but did he know her well enough to do that?

“He was my Military War Dog in Afghanistan.”

He heard her softly indrawn breath.

“Wow. I wondered if you’d been in the military. Army?”

Flynn looked up at her. “Navy SEALs.”

Watching the shock on her face was a little gratifying. And disheartening.

“The beard makes sense now.”

Frowning, he ran his hand over the thick bristles, realizing they were getting a little long. He normally kept it trimmed up and presentable. Recently, though, he’d been run a little ragged.

“So, you said ‘was’.”

His stomach twisted, shocking him, and he smelled smoke. Clenching his hand on his thigh, he tried to force the vision away. He’d thought he’d gotten over Mace’s loss. “Yeah, he died over there.”

Visibility began to fade away and he felt the stifling heat of the dessert. Maya whined and planted her two front paws on his legs. Flynn was a little startled, but he reached up to pat her on the side. “It’s okay, girl.”

He glanced at Willow. She had tears swimming in her golden eyes.

“I’m so very sorry,” she whispered, reaching across the table to hold his hand.

Flynn’s throat tightened with grief and he knew if he didn’t get out of here there was a very real possibility he would break down. Shifting away from the table, he pushed up from the chair. Maya landed beside him, looking up at him. Though it hurt to do so, he pulled away from Willow’s comforting hand.

“Thank you for dinner,” he told her. “Or whatever this was. I guess it’s a little late for dinner, or even a midnight snack. But it was really good.”

He snapped his mouth shut and turned for the door, but she caught his arm. Before he could pull away, she’d wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. The feeling of receiving lush comfort like this was so alien it shocked him to stillness. His family tried to commiserate, but they treated him as if he were being a child, moping after a ‘damn dog’.

Mace had been everything to him. The MWD had saved his life, and that of his team more times than he could count, identifying insurgents before the men had even had a hint. He’d spotted landmines, snipers, suicide bombers. When Flynn blundered into situations with more balls than caution, Mace had taken up the slack, scanning the environment for anything that might damage his handler. They’d slept together, shared many MRE’s together, and now shared blood.

As Willow held him, with her head resting on his chest, some internal guard built into his psyche snapped. He told her about the best friend he’d ever had. The best friend he’d lost. He wrapped his arms around her head and leaned his cheek against her soft hair, allowing himself to remember the details he’d tried so hard to push away.

Willow held him tight, until his back started to ache from standing in one spot for so long. When he shifted to ease the discomfort, she pulled back enough to look up at his face. The condemnation and recriminations he expected to see in her eyes weren’t there, only vast amounts of understanding.

Flynn felt physically and emotionally drained. His body seemed to weigh twice what it normally did. Everything was fuzzy, like he was on the anti-psycho drugs again. When he glanced at the wall clock, the hands wavered and he realized it was just after four in the morning. They’d been standing there for more than half an hour. He started to pull away, but Willow tightened her hand on his, tugging him into motion. She led him into a bedroom and sat him on the edge of her bed. Tugging his tennis shoes from his feet, she nudged him to raise his legs and lay down. Flynn didn’t have it in him to fight her. Closing his eyes, he let her cover him with the comforter.

When her weight eased in beside him, he turned on his side to pull her close. Maya jumped onto the bed behind him and curled into his back.

Flynn let himself drift away, more secure than he’d felt in a long time.

Willow held Flynn’s hard body to her, trying to stem her tears. They dripped down the bridge of her nose, one after another, wetting the sheets. The loss in his voice had undone her. Made her ache for him. It didn’t seem like he’d talked about it much before, so though she’d gotten tired, she’d waited right there with him as he remembered his dog.

She’d waited for the story of his passing with fear in her heart, because she probably would have broken down sobbing. But that part of his story he kept to himself.

He’d seemed wrung out when she’d pulled back to look at him, dazed, too brittle to try to drive home. So she’d tucked him into her bed. And curled in after him.

Though she was sorry for his loss, maybe it had helped him to talk about it.

Willow woke up at seven, thanks to Guinness’s cold black nose nudging her awake. Time for breakfast. She slipped out of bed, leaving Flynn to sleep, and dressed as quietly as she could.

Crossing the paver path to the office, she fed the animals there and checked on her cases. Sue came in a bit later and Willow headed home to take a quick shower. Flynn had already disappeared. Maya was on the back porch and a note had been propped on one of the small tables.

‘Thank you.’

Disappointed that he was gone, she went through the house, dropping clothes. The hot shower felt good after the chilly Colorado morning. They were moving into fall now and she had a feeling the search and rescue calls would start coming faster. She’d only had three over the summer. Once the colorful fall leaves started to hit the ground, people seemed to lose a lot of their sense. They took off on trips into the mountains unprepared for anything Mother Nature threw at them.

Willow’s day was busy, to say the least. A dog came in that had eaten two pounds of chopped sirloin, Styrofoam tray and all. It was obvious by the pain he was in that it wasn’t moving, so off to surgery they went. She’d no sooner gotten out of surgery than a cat came in with a thread and needle in her throat. So off they went again. An African Gray arrived squawking with a mangled wing; broken after the owner had tried to clip his toenails himself and squeezed the bird under his arm too tightly.

The calls came one after another, so when she heard Flynn’s truck pull into the parking lot, she sighed. It figured. She hadn’t had a second to herself, other than the single time she’d stopped to go pee a couple hours ago. Her braid was unraveling and she was fairly certain she didn’t smell so good right now thanks to an overzealous puppy. Last night had been shoved to the far corner of her mind because she didn’t know exactly what to do with it. If Flynn came in all surly and angry, she could probably infer he was defensive about what had happened. But he shouldn’t be. It was obvious he’d needed the release. And the rest.

They were in a bit of an odd relationship, though. They weren’t actually friends, but they were certainly more friendly than they were a year ago. There was attraction on both their parts, she knew that; she’d felt his eyes on her breasts a lot, but they hadn’t acted on it.

Maybe they never would.

That thought truly made her sad and she had to close her eyes for the briefest second to absorb the impact. She’d been thinking about him for so long that him not being there shocked her.

Willow walked down the hallway, more anxious than she wanted to allow herself to be. Flynn stood at the counter, smiling slightly, which was shocking in itself. His big hands were curled beneath something small and furry, but it didn’t seem to be an emergency. In spite of herself, she rushed forward to see what he had.

Flynn tightened his spine as Willow walked down the hallway toward him. But as she looked up at him with bright curiosity in her burnished golden eyes and her cheeks lifted with her broad smile, he felt something clutch in his gut. Willow had a wispy, soft beauty. Her hair was a mess again, but it was who she was. She didn’t try to make herself into something she wasn’t.

The jeans she wore outlined her voluptuous shape, even under the ridiculously nondescript black t-shirt she wore. Her nails were blunt and a little ragged, but he knew for a fact she had the softest touch imaginable.

Emotion tightened his throat as he thought about last night and the way she’d completely taken him over. It had been…a revelation. That he could be that open with somebody and not feel like a freak.

Her plump pink lips were moving and he slammed back into his head to respond to her query. “I, uh, found him hiding under my truck tire when I left work.”

Willow took the fluffy, dirty kitten from his hands and propped it against her breasts, cooing to it. “This is exactly what I needed at the end of a long, tough day. Thank you.”

She smiled up at him and he was struck with the urge to lean down and kiss her to tell her she was welcome. He’d never felt the urge so strongly before and he wasn’t sure what to do with it, so he stayed where he was, just gazing down at her.

The little cat rumbled in happiness at the attention it was receiving.

Willow held him up high enough to look at him. “He seems fairly healthy. Weight is good.” She lifted the kitten’s lip to press at his gums. “Good color response, so he’s not fighting anything obvious. I wonder if he just didn’t wander away from someone’s house?”

Flynn shrugged, unable to come up with words to respond. He felt dumb just standing there, but he wanted to watch her. He didn’t care if she gave the kitten a rectal exam, he’d watch her.

Actually, he wanted her attention on him again. Last night had been surreal. Blocks of time were gone. But he felt lighter in his skin than he had in a long time.

“Do you want to go grab a pizza or something?”

Willow looked up at him in surprise, but almost immediately smiled. Her eyes flicked to the side, then back to him. “I would love to, Flynn. Can you give me some time to clean up?”

He nodded, remembering too late that they weren’t the only ones in the office. Sue had a mile-wide grin on her face and the vet tech stepped forward to take the kitten. She had a sly smile on her face as well, and he felt a little embarrassed at inviting their boss out so abruptly.

Not so smooth anymore, Flynn.

“Why don’t you move your truck over to the house and I’ll meet you there. Maya will be glad to see you.”

He nodded and escaped the stares of the three grinning women, his skin prickling.

The drive took all of fifteen seconds, but he sat there in her driveway, hands clenched around the wheel as he tried to decide what kind of nut he had turned into. He hadn’t been on a date in years, but the evening suddenly stretched in front of him. What were they going to talk about? Do? Should he take her out or stay inside? The thought of crowds made him shudder. Crowds watching him make a fool of himself on a date made him feel sick.

This was an incredibly bad idea. His hand reached for the key in the ignition, then stopped. No, he couldn’t leave. He was man enough to go on a freaking date, no matter where they went. He’d been a SEAL, for fuck’s sake. Man up.

Flynn slid from the truck and circled the house to the backyard gate. Letting himself through, he smiled when Maya bounded out to meet him. Willow had just let herself through the gate from the exercise yard.

“Give me a few minutes to get cleaned up and we can go.”

He almost told her not to bother, they could just order in, but he didn’t want to voice his insecurities. Or disappoint her. So he let her disappear into the house.

Maya leaned into him, tail wagging. Guinness came over to investigate the visitor, gave him a lick on the hand, then wandered away to chew on a red rubber Kong.

Willow came out the back door just a few minutes later and Flynn almost swallowed his tongue. The black t-shirt had been replaced with a pretty, delicate, blue shirt and skirt outfit. Her long black hair had been curled toward the ends, and drawn back into a wide clip to sway across her back. Subtle eye makeup made her eyes positively shine. Her pink lips were even pinker than normal, and glossy. Flynn felt his mouth water at the thought of tasting those lips, to see if they were as sweet as they looked.

A hard slam of need hit him in the gut, and it was all he could do to stay where he was. He did stand and offer her a slight smile. “You look very nice, Willow.”

She beamed at him, her cheeks flushing. “Thank you very much. I don’t get a chance to be pretty very often.”

“You’re always pretty.”

She stared at him for a long few seconds, then glanced away to clear her throat. “Thank you, Flynn. I think that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

Shit. He’d made her cry. He didn’t mean to do that.

The next time she met his eyes, though, she’d blinked away her tears. “We can go anytime.”

Flynn nodded and turned for the gate, not saying anything. He held it open for her to cross through, then jogged ahead of her to open the truck door.

Trepidation swamped him as he slid behind the wheel. The thought of being around a lot of people had him walking the edge of panic. “I, uh, don’t go out very often, so I don’t know what kind of pizza places are around here.”

Willow looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Please.”

She gave him directions to a narrow brick building on the west side of town in Arvada. Flynn wasn’t wild about the area they drove to. Too many hiding places. And some of the locals seemed too interested in what they were doing.

Or maybe that was just his own paranoia reading more into the situation than was actually there.

“Please tell me you don’t come here alone,” he grumbled.

Willow smiled up at him as he walked her to the front door. “Okay, I won’t.”

Flynn glanced at her, unable to believe she would tease him. But she stepped into the restaurant before he could tell if she were lying or not.

Willow knew the woman at the hostess stand by name. They chatted like old friends as the younger woman led them to the back of the restaurant. Flynn was surprised when she led them to the very last corner booth. Willow sat on the door side, leaving him with the wall at his back. Flynn looked at her. Did she realize what he needed or were things just falling as he needed them to?

The waiter came to the table, and again Willow knew the young man by name. “Water please, Aaron.”

The kid’s eyes flicked to him, and Flynn felt like he was being judged. “Same.”

Aaron disappeared. Flynn leaned over the table.

“Do you know everyone here, or is it my imagination?”

She shrugged and grinned. “I used to work here. On the weekends when I was working my way through medical school. They paid well, I got to take home leftovers, and they knew my family before they moved to Florida.”

Flynn sat back in his seat as Aaron brought their water. He glanced at the menu, but took Willow’s suggestion on a pizza they could share. One of the waitresses dropped off a plate of cheesy garlic bread, redolent of fresh spices.

Willow reached for one before the woman had even left. “You’ll love the bread. It’s a house specialty.”

The bread was truly incredible. Eating it gave him an excuse not to talk. Willow didn’t push, though. She sat eating her own bread and sipping her water. Occasionally she brought up topics for discussion and he participated as much as he could, but he could tell she was a little disappointed. She went into a discussion about her family in Florida, but he only half listened. Flynn hated feeling like he was letting her down. He had a million questions, but articulating them as he sat in such an open environment proved difficult. The wall at his back, which he thought would be a good idea, turned not so great as servers kept popping through the doorway beside their booth. Flynn turned so that his back was angled to the corner of the booth.

Willow chewed thoughtfully, but didn’t say anything as his anxiety ratcheted up.

“There’s a window in the top of the door. Would it help if I let you know when someone was coming through the door?”

It would, but he refused to admit that to her.

She seemed to understand that though, too. Her eyes flicked up and a second later a waitress sailed past their table. Willow kept her head high, and when she saw somebody coming through the door, her eyes flicked in that direction.

Some of the rigid tension in his spine eased. Whether she realized it or not, Willow had just become a part of his team.

Mace wagged his tail beneath the table of the booth across from them.

Willow’s golden eyes tracked a person coming toward their table, and Aaron appeared carrying their pizza. He set a little stand beneath the pie and gave them each a plate, then disappeared.

Flynn didn’t know if he could eat or not. Willow pulled a piece from the pie to her plate, then put one on his plate. “It would be a shame to waste this pizza. At least try it.”

She sat with her eyes on the door, giving him time to take a bite. Flynn had to agree it was one of the best pizzas he’d ever had.

They made it through dinner, packed up the few leftovers and left. Flynn felt like a schmutz, ruining their date the way he had.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, holding the truck door open for her.

She glanced at him and frowned. “I’m not. I had a lovely dinner with you.”

Flynn leaned between the door and the frame, needing to explain more.

“Crowds mean danger to me.” He flicked his gaze back to the restaurant. “There were twenty-three people in there, probably too many for me to take on alone.” He couldn’t help but grin. “But I would have done my best.”

Willow laughed at his bravado and reached out to hold his cheek. Flynn forced himself to stand, unmoving, as she caressed the bristly beard down to his chin, and he felt obligated to be blunt. “I’m not a regular guy, Willow. I can’t take you out dancing or to a fair without planning exit strategies and collateral damage. I’ve been stateside for three years now, but I still live as if I’m in a war zone. To some extent I probably always will. I don’t know that anything will ever change that. And I don’t know that that would be a good environment for you.”

She raised a brow at that.

“Do you see me pulling away? Cringing at what you do?”

She waited for him to shake his head.

“Did I not give you the backup you needed for that situation?”

He stared at her, shaken that she could understand the fear he did not want to give name to.

“Dancing is overrated, although we may have to work on the county fair. That’s one thing I simply cannot miss. I love animals more than people, so as long as you make an effort every once in a while to get out, I think we’ll be fine.”

Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Flynn felt like he was drowning; in her scent, her taste and the emotion she stirred in him.

He opened his mouth to taste her, and a visceral need erupted. It had been so long since he’d been with a woman, but he didn’t even think that was it. It couldn’t be just any woman. Willow was the one who had been taunting him in his dreams for so long.

Willow saving him from himself.

She tasted of Italian herbs and lemon. Angling his head, Flynn forced her mouth wider, needing to taste everything she had. She met him move for move. Fingernails dug into his ribs, then burrowed beneath his shirt to his skin. Flynn shuddered at the first intimate touch he’d felt in years.

He stepped closer, unable not to. One of her hands drifted down to his ass cheek and squeezed, and he hardened to the point of pain. Oh, hell…

The hairs on his neck rose, and he realized how exposed he was, kissing her out here on the street. With a final, lingering nibble, he pulled away. He scanned the surroundings, but didn’t see any immediate threat. It was probably just his own unease. Circling the truck hood, he slid into the vehicle.

Willow had dragged the seatbelt across her midsection, but still looked a little dazed. Flynn grinned at her hazy expression. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

She gave him a smack on the arm. “Can I help it if I’m recovering from one of the hottest kisses ever?”

Flynn swallowed and looked at her, trying to decide if she was bullshitting him or not. She looked totally sincere. And aroused. The erection he’d been trying to tame renewed, making him shift uncomfortably.

Willow leaned toward him with a satisfied look on her face. “Yeah, I’m not the only one, am I?”

Grinning with her, he started the truck and shoved it into gear.

Willow rubbed her fingers against her thumb on her right hand, remembering the feel of his hot skin. And he’d been muscular. It was obvious he worked out because the man didn’t believe in loose fitting t-shirts. Seems like everything he had fit him like a glove. But she wanted to see. She wanted to be like any other woman and drool over a hot body.

Hell, if he showed the inclination she would maybe do more than that. In spite of how she felt about her own body.

It wasn’t like they didn’t know each other. He’d been coming into the office for the better part of a year, once, sometimes twice a month even.

Something occurred to her suddenly, and she sat back against the bucket seat. “I don’t even know your whole name. Or what you do.”

Flynn glanced at her, his face lit by the lights of the dash. His teeth flashed for the barest second before he turned back to the road. “My name is Flynn. You know that.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You had your tongue down my throat. I think I can know your name.”

She lifted a brow at him, waiting.

He seemed to be mulling something over, but he tipped his head slightly. “Joe. Joe Flynn.”

Hm.

“But if you call me Joe, I probably won’t respond to it. I’ve only ever been called Flynn.”

She tucked that little tidbit of information away, happy that he’d given her another piece of himself.

“And I work for an investigative service on the north side called Lost And Found. Background checks, surveillance, that kind of thing.”

Willow turned her whole body to him in surprise. She hadn’t expected that. “How interesting! You get the dirt on everybody.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Sometimes. Other times it’s sitting in a car for eight to ten hours a day doing nothing, day after day.”

“So where are you from Flynn? Seems like I still don’t know very much about you.”

Turning onto the 265 on-ramp, he glanced at his mirrors, then her.

“My family is in a little town outside Atlanta. Mom, a couple sisters. My dad died years ago.”

She frowned in sympathy. “What made you join the Navy?”

Merging into traffic, he shrugged his broad shoulders. “My dad had been Navy, so I always kind of had the idea I would have to join before I did anything else. Where I come from, there’s not much of anything to do but join the military.”

“And fight the Walkers, right?”

Cranking his head around, he laughed out loud.

Willow grinned, tickled that he’d gotten the pop culture reference to The Walking Dead. Joe Flynn just got a little cooler, in her eyes.

They chatted about five million things on the way back to her place, and even when they pulled into her driveway they sat there and continued to talk in the darkness.

Flynn had restrictions about what he could talk about in relation to his service. Most of it was covert ops. Willow wasn’t concerned about that, as long as it didn’t affect the now. She had a feeling Mace had played a huge part of his life over there, but when she asked, he shook his head.

Willow’s natural curiosity chafed at being stifled like that, but she guessed she understood. Lives depended upon secrets. Especially in places like Afghanistan. And if he didn’t want to talk about his lost partner, it was his prerogative.

Flynn left her at her door with a knee-melting kiss. It was on the tip of her tongue to invite him in, but she didn’t think either one of them were quite ready for that. So as he walked out the door with Maya at his heels, she allowed herself to watch his fine ass disappear from view and dream about when the time would be right.

Chapter Four

‡

It seemed like Willow had just gotten to sleep when her phone rang. Two hikers had gone missing on the Chicago Lakes Hike near Mt. Evans. They were supposed to have returned the previous afternoon but had failed to check in with family. Heart racing, she promised to be there within an hour and a half.

Guinness was already on his feet, tail wagging. When the phone rang during the night like that, he knew it was a good possibility they would go to work. Willow used the bathroom and dressed, debating whether or not to take Flynn and Maya.

What the hell.

She dialed his number and he answered on the second ring, totally clear voiced. “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

Willow grinned, glad that he’d been as restless as she had. “Well, as much as I appreciate that, I just got called in on a search. Did you want to come with me?”

Silence stretched on the other end of the line and she wondered if she were moving too fast for him. When she’d mentioned going on a search, he’d seemed agreeable, but maybe she’d read him wrong.

“Sure,” he told her quietly. “How much time do I have?”

“I’ll be by to pick you up in twenty minutes. Will your boss be okay with this? You’ll need to be off at least a day.”

“I’ll call him to check. I should be fine. I’ll be ready when you get here.”

Willow hung up, then called the office line to leave a message for Sue to reschedule patients or to ship them on. Willow had worked out a partnership with another local vet to take her overflow when she had searches come up, so she called that vet’s line as well and left another message.

Then she started packing her trail bag. Essentials were already inside; she just added a couple liter bottles of water and a couple of apples. There were enough provisions in her pack to last several days if she needed to.

They were out the door within fifteen minutes of the initial call. And in front of Flynn’s apartment building ten minutes after that.

Maya bounded out like she was going on a great adventure, making Willow laugh as she opened the back door of her full-sized SUV. The dog leapt in as if she’d been waiting forever, greeting Guinness like old friends.

Flynn tossed his backpack in the back, then climbed into the passenger seat. There was a pinched look around his eyes, and she wondered if she’d made the right choice in bringing him.

“Are you okay? I can do this alone. You don’t have to come with me.”

He met her eyes in the gloom of the cab. “I’m fine. Seriously.”

Shoving the truck into drive, she didn’t question him any more than that.

It was a quiet drive for the most part. Flynn asked for details about the operation. He had hiked the Bierstadt trail before, but not the Chicago Lakes trail. He requested details on the op.

Willow grinned at the way he made it sound military.

The missing hikers were supposedly experienced, so she was curious why they’d gone missing. Injury landed at the top of her list. The trail was treacherous; one of the most dangerous in the Colorado range. Hopefully only one was injured, but the other was smart enough to stay planted, caring for the other.

They wouldn’t know until they got there.

When they arrived at the trailhead, several ranger trucks as well as private vehicles crowded the parking area alongside the road. Willow parked where she could and pulled her pack on. Guinness whined with excitement as she slipped his neon orange reflective harness on. She tossed a similar harness to Flynn for Maya.

“This particular mountain is a little deceptive because it goes down before it goes up. Put that on her, but once we get there, hang back from me at least twenty feet. Do you have your pack?”

Flynn nodded. That worried, pinched look still tightened the skin around his eyes, but they glinted with excitement. The darkness would perhaps help him feel more secure as they walked toward the large group ahead of them.

Ranger Roger Thompson, her contact for the operation, met her in the middle of the road that lined the lot. He held out a hand and shook hers briskly.

“I appreciate you coming out, Ms. James. I tried to get one of the teams out of Vail, but they were tied up.”

“No problem, Mr. Thompson. Tell me what’s going on.”

His flashlight flashed as he moved it toward a green Suzuki wagon. “The car’s been here since yesterday. A couple, Mike and Katie Gerhardt, left yesterday to summit, but they haven’t been heard from since about 2 p.m. yesterday. They called her mother when they reached the peak, then started down the slope. But they never got here. Her mother is the one who called us this afternoon.”

“Nobody else saw them? This is a fairly popular hike.”

He shrugged in the dimness. “Nobody’s stepped forward.”

No, that would be too easy.

“Okay, if I can get something from the car, we’ll head out.”

She pulled her jacket around her. It wasn’t winter, but chilly. If you were caught out here without the proper protection, hypothermia was a definite possibility. Flynn had put on a long-sleeved Henley and sweatshirt, and he had a nice pair of hikers on his feet.

It was only a little after three a.m., so she wouldn’t have light for hours yet, which would make the trek that much more treacherous.

One of the local deputies had Slim-Jimmed the driver’s side door. Willow found a discarded flannel in the backseat and held it out to Guinness. The dog buried his nose in the fabric, tail wagging. “Seek, Guinness. Seek.”

She turned to Maya and encouraged the dog to smell. Maya sniffed at the shirt, but didn’t inhale the same way her dog had. Willow placed the shirt in a large Ziploc and stuffed it in the top of her pack.

Guinness was already at the end of his twenty-foot lead, pacing back and forth across the dusty, leaf-strewn ground.

“Are all your people out, Thompson?”

“Yes. As soon as we realized we were calling you in, we pulled everyone out.” He handed her a radio. “It’s on the channel you need. Let us know when we can start up the trail. There’s an access road for the Idaho Springs reservoir after you hit the creek. We’ll meet you there and wait for your go ahead to follow.”

Willow nodded, familiar with the area. She’d hiked this trail a couple times before, although it had been a while.

Certainly never in the dark.

With a final wave at the gathered rangers, she gave Guinness his head. The dog found the trailhead easily, then started fanning back and forth. So many people had already cluttered the air with their scent it would probably take him a while to find that of the missing hikers. There was also a campground not far away. She could smell the wood fires.

Willow turned on her headlamp and handed her spare back to Flynn. “These are good for conserving the batteries in your flashlight. If you have problems, let me know. With the way he’s acting, I think Guinness may have picked up a hint of something. Try to get Maya to watch.”

“Roger.”

Willow dug into the climb. Just as she was getting warmed up though, the trail headed downhill. She knew the trail had to sweep down to the creek, then back up to the first lake. Then, further up, was the second of the Chicago Lakes.

Guinness paced back and forth, steady and strong. His tail wagged constantly. Willow had never seen another dog love his job so much, and she was thankful he had chosen her at the animal shelter. He’d come to the wire door and stared at her until she’d had to take him out. It had been love at first lick, on both their parts.

They’d worked together seamlessly. She patted the right hand pocket of her cargo pants, making sure she’d brought his favorite tennis ball.

She glanced back at Flynn and Maya. The dog was sniffing along, but she didn’t have the same interest as Guinness. The dog didn’t seem to mind the activity, though. She paced along like she’d been hiking before.

They crossed the small wooden bridge that crossed the creek, then started to climb. They were given a bit of a reprieve from the climb when they hit the flat access road. Thompson and three of the other trucks had pulled up and parked, and they were gearing up to hike.

“I sent a team on to Summit Trailhead just to be sure they weren’t up there.”

Willow waved a hand in acknowledgement of Thompson’s words, then hiked on.

She glanced back at Flynn, who seemed to be walking easily. “We’ll be on this road for a little while, then the serious climbing begins.”

He gave her a thumbs-up and a grin, which made her happy. Maybe he was actually enjoying this.

Worry about the hikers kept her pace up. When they came to the trailhead leading up to the first lake, she didn’t hesitate. Guinness still ranged back and forth, but he seemed to be keeping more to the trail now. With so many different odors to wade through, she was constantly surprised when he was able to single just one out.

The trail in this section climbed, then leveled out, then climbed again. She knew they had to be getting close to the first lake, but they wouldn’t be able to see it in the meager light from the quarter moon. After another mile, she paused to take a drink from her water bottle. Legs burning, she paused long enough to offer Guinness a drink as well, but he wasn’t interested. His breath fogged the early morning air as he panted.

Flynn knelt beside her. Even he seemed to be a little winded, but the expression on his face appeared exhilarated. Willow kept her headlamp pointed at the ground. If you looked somebody full in the face, it totally ruined their night vision.

“Are you doing okay?” she asked.

“Definitely. Although I have to admit, I can’t wait for dawn. The lamps don’t pick out all the rocks.”

Willow laughed and nodded. “Isn’t that the truth… Seems like a lot of my hikes are at night, though, so I’ve learned to wear taller hikers. Better ankle support.”

She held her boot out for him to look at and he nodded.

Willow offered Maya a drink, but she wasn’t interested. Pulling the plastic bag from her pack, she gave both dogs another whiff of the shirt.

“Seek, Guinness. Seek.”

The lab took off like a shot, tugging at the lead. Willow hurried after him. He had the scent now.

Almost two miles later, Guinness plunged into the trees on the downside of the trail. Willow stopped him long enough to mark on her GPS where they veered off the trail, then followed along behind, careful of the hidden dangers Guinness seemed to be plowing through. For several hundred yards, he went over and under trees, circled boulders and dragged them through untamed brush, single-minded in his determination to find the source of the scent. In the lee of a towering pine, he stopped to sniff at an area that seemed to have been beaten down. Willow could see signs that somebody had been here recently.

She was puffing from the exertion, but excitement gave her adrenalin. She glanced at Flynn once but he seemed to be keeping up, so she continued on. They entered a dense stand of pine, and Guinness literally began to jerk on the lead. They were getting close.

“Mike,” she called out, rousing a nesting bird. “Katie!”

There was no response, but she continued to call out, then strain her ears for an answer. They continued to hike for another half hour before they finally heard a call back. The lay of the trees and boulders distorted the sound, so she continued to follow Guinness. In another hundred yards, they finally found them. She gave a whoop and threw the dog his tennis ball, so proud of him.

Mike Gearhardt lay on the ground, nestled against a boulder and Katie stood over him protectively. The woman burst into tears at the sight of the dog, then when she saw Willow she dropped to her knees. “You found us, you found us.”

Mike was rough-faced and haggard, but he forced himself to sit up.

Willow knelt down beside him. “Are you injured?”

He motioned to his right ankle. “We got off track and I climbed this boulder to try to get a lay of the land. But I landed a little off, and it snapped. We’ve been here since yesterday. Do you have any water?”

She pulled a liter out of her pack and handed it off, cautioning them to drink it slowly. Then she radioed for help, marking it on her GPS receiver. She was dismayed to see how close they actually were to the trail. The Gerhardt’s had gotten disoriented and wandered for too long, tromping circles in the bush.

Willow leaned over to look at his ankle. It had been wrapped in a spare t-shirt or something and had turned purple. Then it had swollen hugely. The foot would have to be splinted. If they tried to move him without stabilizing it, there was a chance it could be injured further. She dug in her pack and pulled out the first aid kit. It had bandages in it, and luckily, one set of splints.

Flynn knelt on the other side, ready to help.

“Katie.”

The other woman didn’t respond to Willow, just continued to weep.

“Katie!” Willow shook the other woman’s shoulder, worried that she’d gone into shock. “You need to sit with Mike. We have to splint his foot, okay?”

The bedraggled woman nodded, her eyes clearing. Mike smiled at her reassuringly. “We’re going to be okay, honey. They’ll get us out of here.”

“We have rangers tailing us and I gave them our location. They should be here in just a few minutes.”

Mike and Katie nodded.

“Mike, I’m sorry, but I have to splint your foot and it’s going to hurt like a sonofabitch.”

She caught his nod in the darkness.

Flynn held the splints to the elevated foot while she wrapped it, and she appreciated his help. Yes, she could have done it herself, but it was nice to have backup.

The rangers arrived as she was finishing up the wrap. The bouncing lights were welcome in the darkness, but when she looked up, Flynn had gone still.

In spite of the ache in his hips, Flynn was loving life. The search had gotten his blood pumping, excitement coursing through his body. Maya seemed to be having fun on the hike, but she didn’t seem motivated like Willow’s dog. Guinness was in his element. The happy dude had plowed up the mountain, through streams, over brush, completely in the dark. He’d flushed out a couple of quail and crossed paths with an opossum, but his single-minded push to find the target didn’t let him get distracted. Finding the targets had finally released him from the drive.

Guinness hadn’t been the only one, though. Willow had impressed the fuck out of him. Following her, watching her work, had been an eye-opening experience. Flynn knew he was in good physical shape, but she had kept him puffing. Granted, they were climbing in elevation as they searched, but he’d lived in Colorado long enough that he should have adapted to the thinner air of the mountains. Willow had showed him serious gaps in his training.

The dark night enclosing them on the search had reminded him sharply of working ops with his team in Afghanistan. More than once, he’d looked down at Maya’s back and imagined it being Mace’s darker, sleeker coat. Willow’s bobbing light ahead of him could have been that of his buddy Reed, who he’d always backed doing entries into buildings.

When the injured man needed splinted, she’d jumped to it as quick as any doc on the battlefield.

At some point though, the mountainside beneath him faded away, and the lights coming toward him were those of the insurgents they’d been hunting. Smoke drifted into his eyes, making him cough. He drew back, searching for his weapon in the litter on the floor. It wasn’t there. A light shined into his eyes and he lurched to his feet, ready to bolt.

Mace whined, confused at his actions. Flynn looked down at him, fearing he’d been hurt, but something wasn’t right. Mace’s hugely expensive vest, with its mounted camera and canvas handles, had been replaced by a reflective orange vest.

But it wasn’t Mace.

“Flynn!”

He looked at the woman in front of him but didn’t recognize her. Even with her dark hair, she didn’t appear native Afghani. Her hands were held out in front of her and she was saying something.

Wiping the smoke from his tearing eyes, he focused on her pink-lipped mouth. Pink-lipped mouth.

“Willow?”

Smiling, she stepped forward, nodding her head. The dog that wasn’t Mace stood on her rear legs, with her front legs against his waist. “Hey, Maya.”

Flynn ruffled the dog’s coat and she started to lick the crap out of him. As the fogginess lifted from his brain, he realized he wasn’t in Afghanistan. Nowhere close, even.

The early morning sky was beginning to lighten, and he wondered how long he’d been out of his head. Willow stood in front of him with her hand on his shoulder, but she didn’t seem alarmed. Actually, she was grinning. “Are you back?”

He nodded, glancing around. They were the only ones in the immediate vicinity. “Where did the rangers go? And the people we found?”

She made a motion with her head. “Back to the trail. They’re going to try to carry Mike down the mountain. Let’s sit for a minute.”

Dropping the nylon pack to the ground, she sat cross-legged on the leaf-littered slope. Flynn lowered himself a little more cautiously, his hips aching. “Did I do anything?”

A sleek black brow lifted over one eye as she glanced at him. “You mean during your flashback? Nah. Nothing major. I think you were spooked by the rangers’ headlamps, but you kind of just backed away into the darkness, all military-like. At one point it looked like you lifted a rifle and you were whispering to somebody. But you didn’t strike out or anything.”

The sick knot in his stomach unraveled. Good. He’d never hurt anybody in any of his flashbacks, but he’d been taught to kill with his bare hands for many years. It was one of his greatest fears that he would break during a flashback and seriously hurt or maim someone. Rubbing a hand over his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

The thought of hurting Willow made his heart stutter.

“Here.”

She shoved a protein bar under his nose. As unappealing as it sounded right at that moment, he knew he needed it before they headed down the mountain. Ripping the package open, he took a big bite.

Maya had planted herself on his lap and he sank his hand into her coat.

“You called her Mace.”

Willow took a bite of her bar, watching him digest her words.

Shrugging, he took a bite of his own bar. It tasted like sawdust, but he forced it down. He was surprised when she ran a hand over his back.

“If you ever want to talk about him, I would love to hear.”

He nodded, unable to say a word because his throat was so tight.

As the dawn began to lighten, they finished their protein bars and washed them down with water. Willow tossed the dogs a couple of treats and played for a few minutes off leash, then they packed up to go.

When she led them to the trail and explained how the Gerhardts had wandered, he was stunned at how close they had been. It was obvious they had been lost for hours. If they had only picked this direction and walked a couple hundred yards…

Flynn realized that going down the trail was as difficult as climbing it. Willow was a well-built woman, and now that he’d seen her work he knew why. It was from ascending and descending mountains. This wasn’t a Fourteener, what the locals called a fourteen thousand foot mountain, but it had to be close.

Maya stayed right beside him on the trail. She seemed to sense that the remnants of the flashback were still bothering him. More than once she shoved her nose into his hand, making him ruffle her fur. Flynn appreciated her single-minded attention.

Within about twenty minutes, they had caught up to the ranger party. Flynn could hear Mike moaning the closer they got. He felt for the guy. The injuries weren’t life-threatening, so trying to justify a helicopter rescue was out of the question, Willow told him.

The rangers each gave him a considering look, but didn’t mention anything about his behavior.

One of the more heavily built rangers had given up his pack and gear to piggy-back Mike down the mountain. The narrowness of the trail required that they travel single-file on this section. Flynn watched the sure-footed ranger descend, in spite of his load, glad that the morning was lightening.

When the trail widened, two other rangers arranged to carry Mike between their locked hands. Still awkward, but it gave the larger ranger relief for a while.

That was how they made their way down the mountain, transferring Mike back and forth between the group to carry. Flynn offered to carry at one point, handing his leash off to Willow to hold. He clasped hands with another ranger and the big one, Chambers, lowered Mike to their support. It was more awkward to carry a man that way than he expected. Mike didn’t weigh that much to begin with, maybe a hundred and sixty pounds, but every step made him feel heavier in their arms. Almost immediately, Flynn felt the ache in his hips, but he clenched his jaw and powered through several hundred yards. The trail began to narrow and they were getting ready to transfer Mike back to Chambers when the man opposite Flynn slipped in the leaves. Suddenly Flynn was bearing all of Mike’s weight. He did his best to maintain his hold, but he was severely overbalanced, and he felt them slipping off the edge of the trail and down the slope. Rather than let Mike go down first, Flynn used all of the training and strength he had in his body to twist and get himself underneath. As they hit the ground, Chambers was close enough to stabilize Mike before he hit, but he couldn’t keep all his weight from landing on him. Flynn gasped and accepted the blow, trying to breathe through the pain as they all three slid in the leaf litter. Mike cried out, throwing his arms out to try to break his fall.

It was several long seconds before they stopped moving and the dust had cleared. Flynn was still on the bottom, but Chambers was sitting right beside him, and had taken most of Mike’s weight. The poor guy was almost crying with pain from being jostled.

“We’re almost down, buddy, we’re almost down,” Chambers told him over and over again.

Katie, up on the trail was crying, but she calmed when Chambers carried Mike back up to her. Flynn shook his head at how easily Chambers clambered up the bank. The man must be part goat.

Maya licked his face in concern and he buried his hand in her ruff, appreciating the connection. Willow leaned down beside him and offered him a hand up. Flynn had a feeling he may have hurt himself on that slide, so in spite of his pride, he took her hand.

Pain ran down through his right side as he let her pull him up. She seemed to sense that he wasn’t at his best, so she was careful with her movements. When he stood vertical, he took a minute to evaluate what hurt.

The right hip, his old nemesis, throbbed. For a minute, it felt like it had been out of joint, but with a little grinding it settled in. As he turned to head up to the trail, though, the pain made him grit his teeth. Willow followed behind and he hated feeling like she was the stronger one, but this was definitely her area of expertise. All through the climb and descent, she’d powered on like a workhorse, never letting up.

It’s why her ass was so well-shaped and luscious. Snorting, he dared to glance back at her.

She had turned her head to watch the rangers escort the Gerhardts down the mountain. The foggy morning had softened her features, making her seem more ethereal than normal. When she met his gaze, she lifted a brow in question. “What?”

His smile widened. “I just realized why your ass is so luscious.”

As her cheeks turned pink, he laughed. She smacked him on the shoulder. “You’re bad.” She paused. “Why?”

He motioned with his hand. “Because you hike up and down these mountains like they’re nothing. I haven’t seen you hesitate or stumble at all. Hell, you’ve barely paused to breathe in spite of the crazy elevation change we’ve done. As someone who has gone through BUDs training, swam more miles than I can count, served three tours in Afghanistan, I truly admire your mettle.” He paused. “And your ass. Especially in those cargo pants. They look like BDUs.”

Flynn forced his legs to power him up the bank before she could swat him again, but he paused to catch his breath once back on the trail. That was why he didn’t mind accepting her help. In the squads, if a man went down the rest of the team took up the slack, carrying that man out if need be. It was just what they did. A long-ago, flashing, pain-filled night scrolled through his mind. They’d carried them both out that night.

Gritting his teeth, he glanced at Willow. There was a sad, thoughtful look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Golden eyes flashed up to his, then away. “It’s just funny, because I’m a good-sized girl. Most men don’t…” she shook her head. “I get hit on, but mostly by guys who think I’m desperate for attention. I’m not.”

Flynn stepped closer to her, ignoring the pain radiating down his side. He didn’t like the insecurity he heard in her voice. With the slope of the trail, she stood on the uphill, eye level with him now. He turned her chin until she looked him in the face. “I’m going to tell you a couple things, and I want you to remember this. Number one, I’m a Navy SEAL. You can’t even compare me to most men, so don’t lump me in with them.” He waited for her laughter to subside. “Number two, I don’t care what you’ve been told or by whom. Your body fucking rocks. Men don’t want to make love to twigs. Way more than will admit it want a lush, cushioning body to welcome them home.”

Reaching out, he cupped her hips in his hands, tugging her into him. “I would not change anything about you. Not one single thing.”

With her face so close and her eyes so misty, he had to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with enthusiasm, brushing her hand down his cheek.

They pulled away slowly, content to let the others go on without them. Willow stared at him as if trying to decide whether or not to believe him. The relationship developing between them was new and fragile, but even if it didn’t survive, he hoped she would accept his words at face value.

After a few seconds, she smiled. “I appreciate you saying that. I really do.” She leaned forward and gave him another, quicker kiss. “We should probably go. I don’t know about you but I’d like to go to bed sometime today.”

Flynn grinned at her. “I’m good with that.”

When she realized what she’d said, she shook her head and dodged around him with a muttered ‘you know what I meant’. He chuckled, forgetting for a moment the pain about to hit him. Gritting his teeth, he let the pull of the mountain guide his feet down the trail.

When they reached the flat access road, he almost moaned out loud in relief. The throbbing in his hip had jumped up to almost-excruciating. Willow paused to dig something out of her pack. She held out four ibuprofen to him along with a bottle of water. He downed them gratefully, then started limping along. When he realized Chambers had waited to give them a ride back to the parking area, saving them a solid hour of hiking, he could have kissed the big guy. By the look on her face, Willow thought the same thing.

When they got back to the parking area, Willow had to dictate a short statement to be added to Thompson’s incident report. Flynn sat in the truck with the dogs waiting for her. The lack of motion and strain against his body was such a great relief he started to doze off.

Willow climbed into the truck just a few minutes after he did and pulled away. She went through a drive-thru for coffee once they got back on the highway, then she headed for home.

Flynn forced himself to stay awake. Willow had to be as tired as he was, but they couldn’t afford to fall asleep. He asked her about Guinness’s training. That was the best subject he could have brought up, because she was very passionate about the dog and his abilities. Curiously, she hadn’t said anything about Maya. He finally approached her about it.

“So, do you think Maya would be able to be trained for search and rescue?”

Willow looked at him briefly, before turning back to the road. Eventually, she shook her head back and forth. “I think she could be trained for anything, but I think I know what she needs to do.”

“What?” Flynn demanded.

Willow avoided the question, promising she’d tell him after she’d thought about it a while.

Flynn reached back and stroked the dog’s head where she was curled up on the seat. Though he didn’t want to admit he wanted to keep her, he did.

“My boss has been after me to adopt another War Dog,” he told her, surprising himself. He hadn’t planned to tell her about that. “To use at the company.”

She glanced at him, her face lit by the dash. “And what do you think about that?”

He couldn’t say anything for a long time, because a lot of emotion was running through him. Mace had been an incredible dog, well worth the astronomical amount the military had spent on his training. Just the vest he wore when working had cost almost thirty grand. But it had been outfitted with armor, a GPS tracking device, an infrared camera. More times than he could count, Mace had been the first ‘man’ on the line, rushing into buildings, over walls, under vehicles. And he’d saved many lives.

Did he even want another dog? He stroked Maya’s head, realizing that he didn’t really have a choice. The attachment now ran both ways.

“I wouldn’t mind having another working dog, but I don’t think I want to be on the front lines in the same way. This was interesting.” He waved a hand at the mountain. “But I’m not the man I used to be, at least physically.”

“What would the dog be doing at work, though? Tracking suspects, locating items? It’s not like you’d be under gunfire every day.”

“True.”

Flynn sat back against the seat, mulling over her words, and replaying Duncan’s in his head. His boss hadn’t been out of line by suggesting they use Flynn’s experience for the company, but Flynn had shut down completely at the thought of bringing another dog into his life. Maya had kind of forced her way in though, and his work outlook had begun to change.

“I think you could train Maya to go to work with you and do those things. You were a Navy SEAL K9 Handler. I would think teaching her how to track down an item or protect a person would be a breeze for you to do.”

Flynn appreciated her confidence, but… “The dogs are trained for the most part by the time we get them. We maintain their training and tweak it for our individual situations, but the basics are already set.”

She frowned at him in the dim light. “I think you’re downplaying your abilities.”

Maybe.

Flynn glanced back at Maya, wondering what she would be capable of if he spent time with her.

Chapter Five

‡

It was almost nine a.m. by the time they got back to town. Since he wasn’t going in to work, Flynn took Maya with him for the day. Before he left, he leaned in through the driver’s side window and pressed a kiss to her lips. Willow wanted to melt into the seat right there, but she kept her wits. She brushed her hand down his cheek. The arousal faded as she watched him limp up the sidewalk to his apartment. Though he hadn’t said a word, she knew he was in serious pain. That skid down the slope had hurt him.

Willow went into the office long enough to check her post-ops and sign releases for a few. Sue had arranged everything else, so Willow headed home. As soon as she walked in her door, she crashed. Hard. Guinness nosed her around five p.m. to go outside. Willow ate a banana as she stood at the counter, staring into space, as she waited for him to finish his business.

She wondered if Flynn had gotten up yet. Actually, she wondered if Flynn could get up.

Unpacking the perishables from her trail bag, she restocked it and set it in the closet, ready for the next call. Then she puttered around the house. Did a load of laundry. All the things she normally did after a trip. But worry pestered at her. Flynn had been seriously limping this morning when she’d dropped him off. She wanted to call to check on him.

Screw it.

She grabbed her phone to call and realized she’d missed a text.

Maya misses you.

Willow grinned. Flynn wouldn’t say it, but apparently Maya could.

She tapped out, I miss her too.

Maybe you should come over to see her?

Grinning, Willow headed to the bathroom to shower, suddenly energized and humming with arousal.

She arrived at Flynn’s forty minutes later, Guinness in tow. The door opened as soon as she knocked, surprising her. Flynn stood, hand on the doorknob, and waved her in. He’d just taken a shower too and she inhaled as she stepped close enough to press a quick kiss to the edge of his lips. Growling when she tried to leave, he tugged her back, his mouth sinking into hers. Awareness tingled down through her body. The tips of her breasts rubbed against his chest and she moaned, aware of a languid heaviness in her lower abdomen.

Willow had hoped that he would welcome her this way, but she hadn’t expected how readily her body would respond. Faster than with any other man she’d been with. At the same time, she also became aware that Flynn enjoyed what they were doing as much as she. Unable to help herself, she gave a subtle rub against his erection with her hips.

Flynn gasped and stilled. “If you had any idea,” he whispered, “how long it’s been for me and what a narrow edge I’m walking, you wouldn’t do that.”

As soon as he uttered the words, she wanted to bump him over that edge. Just to see what he would do. She had a feeling the experience would be momentous.

Resting her hands on his sides, she rubbed her thumbs back and forth beneath the edge of his gray t-shirt. Her heart thudded in her chest, shaking her whole body. Through the shirt, she could feel the delineation of his muscled body. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss against his neck, then his jaw and cheek. Before she lost all willpower, she pulled away.

Willow settled into a chair catty-corner to the couch. Maya came over and buried her head in Willow’s lap as if she had actually missed her today. Rubbing her ruff, Willow allowed her fingers to run over the scar around the dog’s neck. The hair was growing in nicely. Within a couple months the wound wouldn’t even be noticeable.

Flynn moved behind her to the well-worn brown recliner and she was shocked at how painfully he was moving. “Are you injured?”

Flynn gave her a grim smile as he lowered himself to the seat of the chair. “No, just banged up from the slide yesterday. Or this morning. Whenever the hell it was. A little muscle sore.”

Willow frowned at his answer. He’d fallen into a skid but she didn’t think it had been that bad. “I didn’t realize you’d hurt yourself that much.”

He shook his head and ran his hand through his dark hair. “It aggravated a previous injury.”

Like when he tried to outrun his ghosts.

“Is there anything I can do?” She wiggled her fingers. “I’ve got great massage hands.”

For a minute, he looked intrigued before he shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay. I didn’t bring you over for that. I thought I’d see if you wanted to stay for lunch? Or dinner…” he smiled at her sheepishly. “It’ll have to be takeout, but there’s a pretty good Chinese place that delivers.”

“Sounds good to me.”

She watched as he pulled a well-worn takeout menu from beneath the table beside his chair and handed it to her. Willow looked it over and decided quickly, handing it back to Flynn to order. Her doctor’s brain had moved on to other things, namely the injuries he kept alluding to that seemed to still cause him so much pain.

“If I had known it was going to hurt you this much, I wouldn’t have taken you along.”

Irritation flashed across his features. “I don’t need to be coddled like a child.”

She raised a brow at his words. “It’s not coddling. It’s being careful of an old injury that obviously still causes you issues. Climbing that mountain wasn’t easy, and if you had fallen and hurt yourself more, I would have felt like shit. Then we would have had to carry your ass home.”

Flynn snapped his mouth shut, eyes narrowed as he took in her words. Eventually he nodded. “You’re right. It wouldn’t have done either one of us any good if I had injured myself. But I had to do it.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders, giving her a little grin. She shook her head at him, knowing in her heart that if they stayed together, she would have her hands full.

“We’ll talk next time. Chicago Lakes is a difficult trail, but not the most difficult around. You did really well until right there at the end when you tried to do too much.”

Eyes darkening, he frowned, looking down at his hands. “You’re right. I tried to step up and be part of the team and I bit off too much. I’ll try to leave it to the younger shooters next time.” He winked at her, grinning fully, but the shadows stayed in his eyes.

Willow knew it had to be hard taking a step back from the action. Flynn had limitations, but he’d been trained as a SEAL to meet those limitations then exceed them, in spite of his pain and everything else that might get in the way of his objective. She’d watched documentaries about SEALs before and it wasn’t an easy life.

Maya snugged her head into his lap, interrupting his resigned introspection. Willow wondered if he even realized how many times a day she did that for him. His face immediately lightened, and a smiled tipped up his lips beneath the beard.

“I heard from Ranger Thompson,” she told him. “The Gerhardts are fine. Mike’s ankle had to have surgery and he had some hypothermia and dehydration, but they expect to release him from the hospital in a couple of days. Katie was dehydrated as well, but she’s already been released.”

Flynn shook his head. “I knew they’d be fine. The hypothermia was probably his worst issue.”

Willow nodded. “Definitely. He had compromised blood flow to the broken foot. A couple of his toes might be numb here and there, but I think it’s a small price to pay for their lives.”

There was a knock at the door. Willow stood up automatically, reaching for her cash, but Flynn waved her away. “I’ve got it.”

She followed him to the door anyway to take the bag of food they’d ordered. Adjusting a few things on the coffee table, she spread the boxes across the surface. Flynn limped back to the chair and she tried not to watch how painfully he moved.

The Chinese was delicious as he’d said, and conversation slowed as they each enjoyed the food. Flynn shifted back and forth in the recliner, though, as if he couldn’t find a comfortable position. Maya sat at his hand next to the chair arm, licking his hand every chance she got. Maya knew he was in pain.

Willow tried to eat her own food, but worry made her tense. If she asked what had happened to him, would he tell her? Maybe she had to come from a different direction. She was debating how to open the can of worms when he cracked the lid for her.

“So, were you serious about that rub?”

Flynn regarded her steadily as she pondered the question. He knew as well as she did that the next few moments could potentially change the course of their relationship, because they had reached a point where things were becoming physical.

Willow’s heart thudded in her chest as she thought about her answer. With a quick blink and a single nod, she took their relationship to the next level.

Willow stood up and closed the lids on the food boxes, trying not to show him how affected she was. “If you want to get comfortable, either on the couch or the floor, I’ll put these in the fridge if that’s okay?”

“Sure. I’d appreciate it.”

She stacked the boxes in the bag and walked the bundle to the refrigerator. She wasn’t surprised at the sparseness of the food inside, but she was surprised that there was no beer or even soda for that matter; only bottle after bottle of water and fruit juice.

When she came back from the kitchen, Flynn had just appeared from a hallway, wearing a pair of thigh-length running shorts and the same t-shirt from before. He glanced at her before retrieving a pillow from the couch, then moving to an open expanse of space at the end of the couch. With a grimace, he lowered himself first to his knees, then to his belly on the floor.

It was all Willow could do not to tackle the man from behind. His tight t-shirt gathered and bunched along with his expanding and contracting muscles. And his ass… she shook her head to clear it.

You need to get a hold of yourself.

Dragging oxygen into her starving lungs, she knelt on the floor to the right of his hips. Her hands reached out and smoothed up his spine. They glided fine on the cotton of the t-shirt, but she wished they didn’t. Then she’d have an excuse to ask him to take his shirt off.

At the top of his spine, she started by carefully massaging the muscles of his neck, up to the base of his skull. Her fingers brushed against the short dark hair of his scalp, and she smoothed it down. Squeezing with her thumb and fingers, she worked her right hand down his neck. Bringing her other hand up, she started to pinch the muscles between his neck and shoulders. Then, spreading her fingers, she began to knead her way around his shoulders and across his back.

Flynn groaned into the pillow beneath his head and Willow knew she must be hitting good spots. She made sure not to press too hard though. Using the thumb of her right hand, she ground it into the muscle aligning his spine. Starting at mid-back, she worked her way down to his hips, then switched to the other side to go up to where she’d started.

Tension seeped from his body and she felt him almost sink into the floor. Touching him was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Even through his clothing, he was hot to the touch, and there was so little spare flesh on his body. No love handles, no paunch. She wanted to run her hands down over his ass just to see if it was as firm as it looked. A man’s eyes turned her on, but a nice ass came in a close second.

Shifting to his feet, she lifted his right into her hand to start manipulating. As she moved up his calves, he moaned again, and mumbled something into the pillow.

“What?”

She leaned over him to try to hear what he said. Flynn lifted his head long enough to catch her gaze. “That feels phenomenal.”

Willow grinned and lifted his other foot, giving it the same attention before moving up his calf again. Then, shifting a little bit, she started to rub his hamstrings, first his right, then his left. Flynn groaned loud and long and pretended to cry.

“You’re killing me woman, but it feels so good.”

Willow couldn’t get a good grip on his thigh because of the nylon fabric of his shorts. “Don’t freak.”

Before he could say anything, she’d slipped her hands beneath the leg of the shorts, gripping the large muscles. She massaged up and down, then shifted over to the other leg, doing the same thing. He didn’t say anything about her touching him so intimately. Willow wondered if he would stay quiet when she massaged his butt.

Climbing and descending mountains put a lot of stress on the heavy muscles of the lower body, especially the thighs and the buttocks. As sore as his thighs seemed to be, his gluteus muscles had to be just as sore. Swallowing heavily, she allowed her hands to rest on the cheeks of his perfect ass before she dug her fingers in.

Flynn gasped in painful pleasure. God, Willow hadn’t been kidding when she said she had massaging hands. As she dug her fingers carefully into the muscles of his ass, he feared she would hurt him more than he already was, but she applied the perfect amount of pressure. He’d fallen on his right side and she made sure not to rub that side as hard as the other. Not that she could see the bruises, but they were there.

He felt her shift to his other side and she started at his calves again. Flynn fought with a ton of guilt, because there was no way he could pay her back for what she was doing to his body. Yeah, he was strong, but that mountain had seriously kicked his ass. Running five miles on a flat paved surface had left a huge gap in his training, he realized now.

She started to work his left hamstring and he wanted to pull away, but he stayed still, breathing through the pain. She found every knot, then slowly worked it away. As she moved up his left ass cheek, he realized it was more sore than the other side. Well, he’d been babying his injured side, so it made sense that the opposite side had worked harder. His eyes watered and he clenched his fists, but when she started to move up his back, he realized that his legs and ass felt better after her attention.

He was also getting hard. As if it weren’t enough that she was touching almost every square inch of his body, she’d also been rocking his body. His cock had appreciated the attention whether she realized it or not.

She worked up his back again, paying attention to a million hurts he didn’t even realize he had.

“Do you want to turn over?”

Flynn choked out a laugh. “I don’t know if you want me to,” he mumbled.

Her hands paused and he felt her heat as she leaned over his back. Her long hair drifted over his shoulder, smelling of lavender. “Why?”

“Because I’m harder than a rock,” he growled.

Willow’s hands pulled completely away and she leaned back. “That’s okay. If you want the front of your legs rubbed, turn over.”

Flynn debated whether it would be prudent to take her up on her offer, or if he should tell her thank you for her time and send her on her way. Hell, maybe he was reading more into the situation than she intended. Maybe she would actually rub his legs and leave it at that. She may not even want what he had.

Disgusted with his own indecision, he followed what his gut told him to do, and flipped over.

Flynn felt the brush of Willow’s gaze along the length of his cock before she deliberately looked at his legs. Reaching out, she started to knead the heavy muscle at the front of his right thigh. Once again, he lost himself in the feel of her magic hands moving up and down the length of his upper leg. She paused at the upper part of his thigh and he felt the tips of her fingers trace the puckered line on the outside of his right hip. “Jeez, Flynn, that’s a hell of a scar.”

He sighed and rested his arm over his eyes, unwilling to see her face just then. “I had to have a hip replacement.”

Even without looking, he knew he’d shocked her. He waited for her response and was surprised when he felt her rest a hand on his chest. Moving his arm, he glanced up at her.

Concern had dimmed the light in her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He didn’t know if she meant the surgery or the war or what, but it didn’t really matter. The sincerity in her face really touched him, but he forced a shrug. “It was part of the mission. Not how I wanted it to end, but it happens to the best of us.”

Forcing a grin, he tugged on the end of her braid.

Willow leaned forward, resting her lips on his for a timeless moment. Wrapping his hand around the back of her head, Flynn refused to let her go, tugging her down against him. With a gasp, Willow’s lush body rested against his, exciting him all over again.

Instinctively, her thigh slid over his, sliding against his erection.

Flynn rolled them over, till he cradled her head and hip beneath him. God, she felt good. She’d already sent gallons of endorphins cruising through his body because of the rub, but this pleased a completely different part of his body. His dick nestled into the V of her pelvis.

Willow gasped, surging against him, spreading her legs to pull him closer to her. Flynn stopped moving for the barest second. “If you don’t want this, Willow, you need to tell me now.”

Rather than respond, she ran both hands beneath the elastic band of his shorts, squeezing. “You have a beautiful ass,” she whispered.

Flynn chuckled, grinding against her. “If you say so.”

Willow wore a plaid button-down shirt in shades of green. Very pretty, but the damn buttons wouldn’t release for his blunt fingers. The need to see her plump breasts was almost overwhelming. He’d been fantasizing about them for so long.

Willow seemed to sense how needy he was, because she started to undo the buttons herself. When the sides of her shirt draped open, Flynn groaned. Even wrapped in satin, her breasts were truly gorgeous. She did a little shimmy beneath him, reaching her hands behind her, and the satin fell away.

Taut, brown, pebbled nipples begged for attention. Resting on his elbow, Flynn weighed the left one in his hand, strumming his fingers over the tip. Willow panted and cupped both breasts for him to pay attention to. Leaning down to taste one nipple, he continued to fondle the other with his hand until she cried out, shuddering.

He skimmed his hand down the pale skin of her belly, fascinated at the downy-soft feel. At the waistband of her jeans, he ran his fingers across the fabric, then unfastened the button. When he peeled back the sides, the zipper went down, revealing a pair of dark-blue satin underwear.

Flynn clenched his jaw, burying his hand inside her jeans and against her belly, rubbing as far as he could reach. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of the fabric on her soft skin, and he rocked his hand back and forth. Lunging to his knees, he gripped the sides of her jeans, tugging. Willow lifted her hips and let him drag them down her legs. They landed in a pile at the end of the couch. He nestled himself back between her thighs, grinding his hard length against the fabric he’d revealed.

“Fuck, I could come just like this. You feel so damn good.”

Willow grinned at him, rocking her hips up into his cock. For the briefest second, Flynn’s vision actually dimmed as the need began to blind him to everything else. Slipping a finger beneath the soaked gusset of her panties, he ripped them away from her body. He pulled back to look at the soft dark fuzz he’d revealed, trimmed to a narrow band just above her slit. The tingle in his balls threatened orgasm.

Ignoring the muscle pain, he shoved to his feet, reaching for her hand. Willow grinned as he jerked her to her feet and led her into the bedroom. He guided her to lay on the bed and she did, in her own way. Backing onto the mattress, she stretched sinuously, stretching one arm high to lift her breasts. Then she glided both hands down her body, and one finger slipped into her glistening cleft. Her golden eyes drifted shut with pleasure.

Flynn ripped his own clothes away, uncaring what she thought about his battle-worn body. Willow watched him through slitted eyes and opened her arms to him.

Flynn crawled up the bed and between her legs. Without giving her a chance to protest, he moved her hand away and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her slit, then arrowed his tongue to burrow in. She tasted of wild honey. Willow cried out as he circled her clit and shifted beneath him. Her hands fell to the bed and she fisted the sheets, rocking her hips up into his movements.

When he slipped a finger into her wetness, he flinched at her heat, imagining what it would feel like enveloping his dick. Plunging his finger deeper in time with the movement of his tongue, he tried to curb his own excitement even as he built hers.

Willow was a sensual woman. She had no problem telling him exactly what she wanted. Within seconds her first orgasm rippled through her body. Flynn opened his eyes to watch the pleasure wash over her. God, she was beautiful. She shuddered and quivered, and her moan was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. Even as the aftershocks rippled through her body, she opened her arms and guided him into her heat.

Flynn seated himself in her body and stilled. Willow’s body still shivered with aftershocks and she cried out as her body accommodated his. As he started to move within her, slowly at first, then faster and faster as his control frayed, those subtle shivers turned into quakes as her body tightened with another orgasm. Her pleasure and excitement fed his own, and Flynn let himself go. It had been too long to hope to put it off. Three hard, deep plunges sent his body supernova, blinding him to everything but that hard point of release. Willow cradled him to her as his body played out its movements, her face nestled into his neck.

It took several long minutes for his pleasure to finally ebb. Willow still cradled him to her, her legs wound around his. Flynn pulled back enough to press a kiss to her jaw, then tugged her back into the curve of his body. It just wasn’t in him to move in the near future. The house could be burning around him and he would die happy, part of her.

They fell asleep still joined.

Chapter Six

‡

Willow was prodded awake by a heavy erection gliding into her from behind. A hard hand cupped her breast, and his other hand glided down her belly. As she gasped at the invasion, Flynn buried his mouth into her neck. The bristles of his beard sent shivers dancing along her skin, but it cranked her arousal to catch up with him.

Flynn loved her like a starving man. Willow had a feeling he hadn’t been with anyone since he’d returned stateside, so it made her acceptance into his life all the more precious.

And it wasn’t as if she were unaffected. Flynn appealed to her on a level no other man had and she already felt like her life was woven with his. As he surged into her, pushing her over the edge of pleasure, she knew for a fact that love was a breath away. It was on the tip of her tongue to whisper the words as he groaned in her ear, losing himself in his own pleasure, but she held them back.

It was simply too soon.

With a final series of surges, he reluctantly pulled out of her body.

Willow shuddered with aftershocks. Flynn rolled to the side, boneless, and grinned at her in the dark bedroom. She saw the flash of his bright teeth in the meager light from the bathroom. “Sorry to wake you up.”

She lifted her brows at the false apology. “Yeah, right. I could tell how apologetic you were as you yelled out you were coming.”

Flynn chuckled and pulled her tighter against his body. “What can I say? You’re damn good sex.”

She frowned at the off-hand way he said that. She hoped she was becoming more than that. Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Nope. Go right ahead.”

She waited for him to join her, but he never appeared. When she left the bathroom, the bedroom had begun to lighten with dawn, and Flynn snored lightly. She smiled at his relaxed, leg-sprawled pose, until her gaze drifted down over his lower abdomen. On his right hand side, same side as the long scar on his thigh, there was a fist-sized area of pale silver skin. A couple of silver lines crossed through the middle. If she didn’t know better, she would think it had been a huge gunshot wound.

Hell, she would bet on it. The man had been a SEAL, some of the most elite of the military. She watched the national news every night. Had he been one of the many injuries or attacks she’d seen listed over there?

She glanced around the room. Most of her clothes were out in the living room. Her gaze landed on a small picture frame on the wall and she stepped forward to look more closely. Flynn was young but recognizable, though his beard seemed fuller now. There was a daring, devilish smile on his face as he stood next to another man, both dressed in desert camo. Both held leashes to dogs sitting in front of them.

Willow leaned in further. That must be Mace. The dark-faced, lean Belgian Malinois looked ready to go, ears pricked to attention. He almost seemed to quiver with excitement. As she looked between Flynn and the dog, she realized they were both ready for anything, both just waiting for any excuse to leap into action.

It made her sad that Mace was no longer with them. She wondered about the other team, and if Flynn ever talked to them anymore. They seemed close in the picture.

With a final glance at his naked shape, she walked out of the room to get dressed. Unable to find anything else, she jotted a note on the Chinese menu and left it on his chair where she knew he’d find it. Maya and Guinness whined to go out, so she walked them down the steps to the yard. They did their business and she urged them toward the SUV. Maya was reluctant to leave but eventually complied.

Willow didn’t see Flynn till later on that night. He knocked on her back patio door, then let himself in. Maya went into a wild jumping fit, she was so glad to see her human. Willow laughed at her antics, even as nervousness churned her tummy. The day after sex always seemed awkward to her, because neither side wanted to be rejected, yet both expected it. Flynn eased that worry as soon as he saw her, though. He crossed the floor, took her in his arms and laid one of the hottest, open-mouthed kisses on her she’d ever had.

When he lifted his head, he grinned down at her dazed expression. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

She shook her head, pushing her hair behind her ears. “No, of course not, just took me by surprise a little bit.” She grinned at him. “Looks like you’re feeling better.”

Flynn laughed and Willow had to stare. For the first time she could see the devil-may-care attitude she’d seen in the picture from years ago. The setting sun was bright enough to require sunglasses, and the wraparound shades he wore sat rakishly on top of his head.

She grinned at his light-heartedness and wondered if she dared broach the subject she’d been researching all day. Eh. She took the coward’s way out and avoided it for now. “Your butt must not be hurting you anymore.”

“Not like it was yesterday. Thank you for that massage. I really do think you shortened my recovery time.”

It was Willow’s turn to shrug. “I felt bad for truckin’ you up and down that mountain. It was the least I could do. Can you stay for dinner?”

His eyes darkened with intent and he stepped toward her. “Any chance we can have dessert first?”

Surprise made her mouth fall open and she took an instinctive step back, then another. Flynn followed, staying just within reach of her. Willow giggled at the silly play and dodged around a chair, keeping it between them. Eventually, he gripped the arm of the chair and jerked it away, stealing her cover. Willow tried to dodge through the door into the house, but he caught her from behind. Laughing until she could hardly breathe, Willow turned in his arms, wrapping them around his neck. He took her mouth in a crushing kiss and she could feel the grin against her mouth.

This lighthearted Flynn fascinated her. When he came into the office, it was usually to escort a critically ill animal. She’d only ever seen him as somber, snappish. This lighter version thrilled her. And excited her. As he walked her backwards through the house, tugging clothes away from her body as they went, arousal beat a steady tattoo through her body.

When they reached the door of her bedroom, he was significantly overdressed. Willow dragged his t-shirt up over his head. Hard-wrought muscles flexed and bunched as he stripped for her. A light covering of hair covered his nipples and pecs, then streamlined down his abdomen. Her glance skipped over the scars on his right side and straight to the extraordinary erection he fisted and stroked.

Willow dragged her panties down her thighs and ripped her socks off, the last of her clothing. Then, stepping toward him, she moved his hand from his cock so that she could wrap her hand around it.

Flynn groaned and pressed his lips to hers, skimming his tongue into her mouth. Willow groaned, pressing her breasts into the wall of his chest. As she started to stroke his erection, one of his hands swooped down her belly to her wet core. She’d been wet and aroused all day, remembering the loving he had given her the night before.

Brushing her nipples back and forth against the wall of his chest, she opened her mouth wide beneath his questing tongue, drowning in the flavor of need.

Flynn wedged his cock between their bodies, rocking his hips to rub against her soft belly. “Get on the bed.”

Willow quickly moved to do as he instructed, but he shook his head.

“No, I want you up on your knees. Right here on the edge.”

A shiver of arousal shuddered through her, and her clit tingled. She shifted to her knees and presented herself to him, arching her back.

Flynn groaned and swept a finger into her wetness, circling her aroused clit. Willow’s hips shifted with his movements, trying to guide his finger. When he started to rub her with two, she completely melted down. Rocking her hips faster, she reached for the pleasure he offered her, crying out sharply as she tumbled over the edge.

He waited just a few seconds for the peak of her climax to pass before he guided his length inside her. His timing was impeccable because as he rocked into her, harder and deeper than she’d ever been fucked before, her second orgasm rippled through her. Flynn’s rhythm faltered at the feel of her body gripping his, then increased frantically as his own orgasm rushed at him. As Willow melted into the bed, she felt his body release into her own.

As they tried to catch their breath, Flynn rolled away from her but kept his arm just barely touching her own. Willow appreciated that. Yes, they were sweaty and sticky and had just had some of the raunchiest sex of her life, but she loved the closeness, and he seemed to enjoy it as well. She didn’t know what his dating habits had been like previously, but he seemed to really enjoy being close. It had been a little difficult getting into his tough shell, but now that she had, she truly enjoyed the man he was showing her.

She leaned up on her elbow to look down at him, shoving her hair over her shoulder. “You don’t act like you’re hurting.”

Flynn grinned. “It’s not like I could feel anything else. As soon as I saw you I had to have you. Single-minded determination.”

Willow laughed and reached out to run her hand down his tight abs, coming to rest near the scar. “This looks like a devastating injury. It’s amazing you can move as well as you do.”

He rocked his head toward her. In the dim light, his eyes were already shadowed, but the laughter had faded from his expression. She hated to put a damper on the evening, but she wanted to talk to him about some things.

“It is amazing,” he admitted. “The bullet destroyed a couple sections of bowel, shattered my hip. I was in the hospital for months.”

Unable to think of anything else to do, she leaned forward and rested her lips against the silver flesh. “I wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

He shrugged, resting his hand on her back. “At least I came back. A lot didn’t.”

She continued to rub, debating how to proceed. “Were you injured at the same time as Mace?”

He blinked at her once before rolling to sit up on the edge of the bed.

Willow thought she’d pushed too hard. She waited for several minutes and was about to head to the shower when he sighed.

“Yes, we were injured at the same time. Hell, same bullet even.”

She crawled to where she could see his shadowed face. “The same bullet? Are you serious?”

Flynn nodded. “One of those crazy freak things that happen. As SEALS, a lot of times we had bounties on our heads. The dogs, too. As soon as we went outside the fence, we had targets on our backs.”

Willow stroked her hand over his back, wishing she could ease the pain she heard in his voice. “Can I ask what happened?”

Broad shoulders rippled with a shrug. “We were heading out on an op. In this quiet little village at night looking for a target. We were easing up when Mace spotted the ambush a few yards away from our position. He’d just started to jump over a pile of trash to engage when the first insurgent fired. The bullet went through the leghole of his vest, shredded his heart, through his belly and hit me.”

Flynn fell silent for several long moments, his face buried in his hands. Willow crept closer to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

“I knew as soon as he fell he was gone. It took me a few seconds to realize I’d been hit as well. Then I went down like a ton of bricks. My team carried both of us out of there, fighting the insurgents the entire way.”

Willow rested her head on his shoulder, tears dripping down her cheeks. “He protected you.”

Flynn nodded. “If the bullet hadn’t lost some of its momentum before hitting me, my pelvis would have been shattered. I would have bled out before the Medevac could get there. As it was, it hit the ball of my femur, totally obliterating it. They flew me to Landstuhl then to the States, where I had the hip replacement.”

“How long had the two of you worked together?”

“Four years,” he sighed. “Three combat tours. Too many individual ops to count.”

Willow continued to rub his back. What a horrendous event. She could only imagine what would happen if something that traumatic happened to Guinness. Leaning forward, she gave him a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “So, you have a part of him in you. Any urges to sniff crotches or chase balls?”

He stared at her incredulously for a few seconds before belting out a laugh. Catching his breath, he looked at her again and continued to laugh till tears glistened in his eyes.

Willow grinned as he wrapped his arms around her. She wanted to hear about his lost partner, but she didn’t want him to dwell on issues that he couldn’t change. Over the past year Flynn had, for the most part, been a pretty dire human being. She would have liked to think she’d begun to thaw him out a little.

Flynn pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Willow lifted her face and he captured her lips for a long, heartfelt kiss.

Maya whined outside the door. The emotion inside the room had reached pretty epic proportions, so she probably wanted to be part of it. Willow pulled back enough to look into Flynn’s eyes.

“I want you to observe something, Flynn.”

She crossed the room to the door and let Maya in. The dog immediately went to Flynn for reassurance, not for herself, but for Flynn. The dog’s concern was almost palpable.

“What am I supposed to be observing?” He looked up at her as he stroked Maya’s head.

“Her reaction to your emotional state. I talked to a buddy yesterday and I think you should consider training Maya to be a state-certified PTSD dog.”

The movement of his hand on her head stopped and he looked down at the dog, then back up at her in consternation. “What?”

Willow took a breath. “That dog reacts to your emotional and sometimes physical state. You’ve had a couple of flashbacks since you’ve had her and what has she done?”

Flynn frowned and shook his head.

Willow waved her hand at the dog’s current position. “She parks her head within reach of your hand. Even when you sleep and you have dreams, she’s right there with you. It took me a while to figure out that she was reacting to your emotions, not her insecurities.”

“When we were on the trail,” she continued, “and the rangers came with their lights, you had a flashback. She stayed right there with you, even when you lost the sense of who she was. You called her Mace, but as soon as you touched her, you started to calm.”

Flynn looked down at the dog beside him, thinking about what Willow had said. Could it be that the dog was reacting to his emotions like that? He tried to remember the flashback on the mountain, but it was a little too foggy. Mace had been there, of course, but he had seemed solid. Had it been because another dog had taken his place?

He glanced around the room, but Mace was nowhere to be seen. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen him in a couple days.

Maya looked up at him with her concerned brown eyes. It was a little disconcerting to think that his insecurity had been the motivating factor to her attention, not her own.

“Are you sure? I haven’t been with her long enough to have developed that kind of bond with her, or she with me. It took Mace weeks to get used to me and for us to build a solid working relationship.”

Willow shrugged. “They’re different dogs. I’ve watched her, though. She’s consistent. Nothing shakes her up. Until you get upset. When you get quiet in your mind and something’s going on, she’s right there to be with you.”

Dragging in a breath, he looked down at the mutt. She stared up at him, unflinching. For the first time in three years, he wanted to have a flashback to see how she reacted. The bad part was, he would not necessarily remember having it. He had been stressed a few times, though, and Maya had come to him without coaxing on his part.

As if she were reacting to his stress level…

Flynn sat back, deep in thought. For years he’d been unable to cope with certain situations. Crowds, especially. Crowds at night, even more so. If there were a chance Maya could be trained to help them out there, his life would change. It would be like having Mace back.

His throat tightened at the thought of his lost companion. Nobody could take his place.

“Did any of your counselors ever talk to you about getting another dog?”

Flynn blinked up at Willow, standing a few feet away. “They did, but I was pretty closed off to the idea. I think a couple even talked to me about the PTSD dogs, but I wasn’t interested.”

Willow gave him an ironic look. “I think she’s kind of decided for you. If she’s that attuned to your personality, you would be a fool not to train her to help you out as much as she can.”

He frowned, agreeing that it would make sense.

Did he want to be that dependent on another dog though, that would leave him long before he was ready?

Willow seemed to understand he felt overwhelmed with the subject, because she smiled and crossed to the bed to drop down beside him. “There’s no pressure and you certainly don’t have to decide anything right this minute. This is just an option that is available to you. I’ll support whatever you want to do.”

Flynn dropped a kiss to her mouth, appreciating the care he could see in her face. It was more than he’d ever gotten from his family or anybody else. “I’ll think about it. Promise. We need to get ready for work, though.”

Willow sighed. “I know. Let’s go.”

Flynn moved through the day waiting to see Mace. The apparition of the dog usually appeared to him at least once a day, but it had been less frequently recently. Duncan could tell he was battling some issues, so he let him off again. Heading home, Flynn tried to let his mind wander. Mace usually appeared out of nowhere.

As he thought about it, though, he realized that was wrong. Mace had only ever appeared when he felt some kind of stress, either physical or emotional. Jogging, pushing himself in situations, crowds.

Flynn turned the truck toward Arvada and the pizza restaurant Willow had taken him to. It was almost noon, so the lunch crowd should be growing.

Luckily he didn’t recognize any of the wait staff. He requested the very back booth and sat against the same wall as before. The waitress came and took his order and disappeared through the door that had caused him so many issues last time. This time, Willow wasn’t here to spot for him. Every time a body plowed through that door, he tensed, ready to fight. None of the staff paid him any attention.

Flynn glanced beneath the table across from him. No Mace.

The waitress brought his meal and drink, but he couldn’t touch either one. His eyes scanned the room for threats and he craved the feel of a gun in his hand.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. When he looked over, Mace sat beneath the table across from him. His dark head was cocked as if he were trying to understand what Flynn was doing. Even as he watched, the dog pushed to his feet and jogged out of the restaurant. Flynn dropped cash on the table and followed him out, but once on the bright street, no longer saw the MWD.

Frustration burned through him. Feeling like a pansy ass in the middle of a restaurant was not how he’d ever envisioned himself.

Decorated former Navy SEAL found hiding under a table in local restaurant…that news and more at eleven.

The thought of snapping in the middle of a group of people like that chilled him to the bone. He had no doubt he would kill somebody if it ever happened. The thought of breaking in a group of people like that with Willow present made nausea surge. No way would he allow himself to do that.

Discouraged, disgusted with himself, he turned for his truck.

Chapter Seven

‡

Willow waded through a backlog of patients. When the Search and Rescue call had come in, she’d rescheduled as many of the routine appointments as she could. Now it was time to play catch up.

Not that she minded the work. She was just worried about Flynn. He’d seemed a little shell-shocked when she told him about Maya. And honestly, if she’d been in the same situation, she probably would be too.

A dog like Maya came along only once in a great while, and there was still the chance that if they did send her to be trained, she would not pass the tests for certification. That worry was so minor, though. She was already doing exactly what Flynn needed. Getting Flynn to accept her as a therapy dog would be the big thing.

Five o’clock rolled around and her excitement began to build. Would Flynn be over tonight?

She checked on the animals one last time and was about to leave the office when an emergency call came through. A Chihuahua had had an altercation with a door. She had no choice but to wait for the owner to bring the little dog in. Nicky waited along with her, and she was glad for the assistant’s help when they had to put pins in the tiny little leg to hold the break together.

It was past seven o’clock by the time Willow headed down the paver path to her house. The dogs were so happy to see her. As she let them through the gate into the exercise yard, she grabbed up a couple of tennis balls. They would play for a while, in spite of her tiredness.

When Flynn didn’t show by eight, she went ahead and ate dinner by herself. Maya watched the door and paced, just as anxious as she was. Willow debated sending him a text message, but tossed the phone away. If he wanted to talk to her, he would.

Half an hour later she picked up the phone again, unable to keep her worry in check.

Maya misses you, she typed out.

She plugged the phone back into the charger then cleaned up her dinner mess. When it buzzed on her counter a few minutes later, she forced herself to walk calmly across the floor.

I miss her too.

She grinned at the response, the same one she’d given him days ago.

But I miss you too, he continued. Can I come over?

Willow frowned at the question. Of course you can!

Why hadn’t he just come over? Weren’t they beyond the tentative beginning stage?

The fact that he felt the need to ask her was worrisome. Maybe she just felt like she was further along in the relationship.

While she waited for him to come over, she started a load of laundry. And puttered around the house. Brushed her teeth.

Maya gave an excited yelp when she heard the back door open. Willow got there just a few seconds later, but stopped at the jamb until she could see what kind of mood Flynn was in.

Dressed in running shoes, t-shirt and shorts, she had an idea where he’d been. As he looked up, eyes dull with tiredness, she had to shake her head. “Why do you keep doing this?”

His grin flashed for a moment before he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Willow buried her nose against his neck, pressing a kiss there, but pulled away to frown up at him. “You don’t smell very good. Hot shower time?”

He nodded gratefully. “Join me.”

Willow smiled. “I’d be happy to.”

They left a trail of clothes all the way to the bathroom, then had to stand on the cold tile and wait while the water warmed. Flynn used the time to run his hands over her ass and around to her belly. “I love your shape. You’re so soft and welcoming.”

That was one of the sweetest things anybody had ever said to her.

It was so strange. She appreciated his hard, cut-muscled shape, but he appreciated her softness. They were a pair.

Willow was taken aback at how thoroughly Flynn paid attention to her that night. He washed her hair and body, dried her completely, then tucked her into bed. Disappointment filled her when she realized he planned to go to sleep, but concern for him outweighed it by a mile. He’d been running from ghosts again and was worn out.

Maybe someday he would tell her about his ghosts.

When they woke in the morning, his somber mood was gone. They made love like she’d wanted to last night, and it was as wonderful as all the other times they’d done it. But he seemed to have something weighing on his mind.

Willow took another shower and started to dress for work. Flynn met her on the patio with scrambled eggs and toast. “Wow. Thank you! I was just going to grab a banana but this is much better.”

They sat at the patio talking about what they had planned for the day, but Flynn avoided the topic of training Maya.

“And you need to know,” Willow told him, “that you are welcome here at any time. I can give you a key, too.”

Flynn frowned at her, his gray eyes narrowed. Willow felt like she’d blundered somehow. “You don’t have to come over, but I want you to know that you can. That’s all I’m saying.”

Some of the strain left his face. “I appreciate that, Willow. I better get going.”

They gathered up their dirty dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Willow turned her face up for a kiss and Flynn pulled her into his arms, squeezing her between the counter and his hips. Though they’d made love less than an hour ago, she could tell he was ready again. When she lifted her brows he grinned at her. “What can I say? You bent over to drop your plate in and all thought disappeared.”

She wiggled against him. “I guess so. If I had more time I would take you up on this.”

“I have a lot of making up to do, so you’d better be ready later.”

Heat swamped her body and hardened her nipples. Flynn’s need was the most potent aphrodisiac she’d ever encountered. Made even more thrilling because he’d opened up only to her.

“I’ll be ready.” She gave him a lingering kiss, knowing that his need would only get worse.

She pulled away before he could make her any later. “I…’ll see you later.”

Damn. She’d almost said she loved him.

Willow left the house and headed to work, unbalanced and insecure all over again.

Flynn felt restless and unsettled. When he’d returned stateside, he’d been seriously damaged. Counseling had helped take the edge off, but not enough to make him polite for public consumption. Working with the guys at Lost and Found had actually helped more than anything. They accepted all his quirks and allowed him to build an environment he could function in and become productive. Duncan, his boss, had truly created a haven for all of the veterans he had hired, and Flynn could never express to him the gratitude he felt.

When Duncan came into the rec room at lunchtime, requesting a talk, Flynn had no problem with that. Though they hadn’t served together, hadn’t even been in the same service branch, Flynn could tell that Duncan had been an awesome leader. Every one of the men in the company respected him. There was an undercurrent of reserved command in Duncan, but they were truly all friends.

They moved to the group of couches and chairs in the back corner of the room, away from the few other guys present in the office. Flynn frowned in sympathy when Duncan lowered himself to the cushion, using his cane as an anchor. He took the chair to the right from Duncan.

“I just wanted to check on you,” his buddy told him. “I hadn’t seen you for a while.”

Because he’d been hiding out.

“I know. Working on some things outside of work.” He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. “I’ve kind of been seeing somebody.”

Duncan’s dark brows slid up his forehead and he grinned, leaning forward enough to grip Flynn’s shoulder. “Congratulations, Flynn. That’s really something. Can you tell me about her?”

Flynn felt a little embarrassed. “Well, she’s a great lady. A veterinarian, actually.”

Duncan frowned. “A veterinarian. Really? How did you meet her?”

Flynn gave him the truncated version of the past year and the animals he’d found. Before he could stop himself, he told him about Maya, too.

“And does she know about your service and Mace?”

He shrugged. “She knows parts of it, but not all.”

“And Mace,” Duncan asked softly. “Does she know about him?”

With a heavy frown, Flynn shook his head. “She knows how we were taken down, but I haven’t told her about the delusions.”

He stood to pace the area in front of the flat screen TV mounted to the wall.

“But the thing is I haven’t been seeing him like I was before. Ever since Maya latched onto me, I haven’t seen Mace as much. I actually tried to make him appear yesterday, did all of the things that normally bring the apparitions on—went out to lunch in a restaurant with a bunch of people, went running on the trail—I saw him for a few seconds at the restaurant and he ran out, leaving me behind.”

“So, is that good or bad?”

Flynn stopped and frowned at his buddy. “I’m not sure. It kind of feels like I’m losing him again, but the fact that the delusions are disappearing is good. Right?”

Spreading his heavy arms across the back of the couch, Duncan grinned at him. “I can understand your need to hang onto Mace. I think he’s been a coping mechanism for you for a long time. But if you’ve become stable enough to let him go, I think it’s a wonderful thing.”

“Willow thinks I should train Maya to be a PTSD dog.”

“I think Willow sounds like a brilliant woman,” Duncan told him firmly, grinning. “I’d like to meet her. I’ve tried to tell you before you needed to get another dog.”

“I thought you wanted it for the company, though?”

Duncan shook his head. “Nah, only if you wanted one. I think a companion dog would be perfect for you.”

Flynn dropped back down into the chair, things realigning in his head.

“Sounds like this woman has really been good for you.”

Flynn had a flash of Willow, dark hair flying around her face as she grinned at him in the sunlight. “She’s been incredibly good for me. I don’t know if I’m good for her, though. She’s had to adapt to a few things already.”

Duncan shrugged. “If she loves you it doesn’t matter. Look at John and Shannon.”

Snorting, Flynn thought of the abrasive partner and his petite woman. They had definitely overcome a lot to be together.

John hadn’t had the same problems he did, though.

“I worry that she’s putting more into this relationship, into me, than what I’m returning. She’s a beautiful woman, runs her own business, does phenomenal volunteer work…”

“And you feel like more of a liability than part of the relationship.”

Flynn looked at Duncan, stunned at the man’s insightful words. “Yes, exactly.”

“You need to get out of that self-destructive loop because it doesn’t do either one of you any good. Enjoy being with her. Don’t worry about all the exterior crap. If she’s happy having you in her life, relish it. Do you love her?”

Scenes slammed through his mind, one after another of Willow looking at him with that calm smile in her eyes. “I think I do.”

A sad look flickered over Duncan’s face. “Then enjoy it. For as long as you can.”

Using the cane to help himself to his feet, Duncan motioned to Flynn. He lurched to his feet, clasping Duncan’s hand in a heavy shake. “Thanks, boss man. You’re not bad for an old leatherneck.”

Duncan laughed at the familiar dig.

“And you’re not so bad for a frogman, Flynn. Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.”

As he walked out of the office later on that day the receptionist, Shannon, caught his eye and he walked over to her desk. There was a huge bouquet of blue and white flowers on the corner of her desk.

She looked up at him expectantly, smiling. “Can I help you, Flynn?”

Every thought went out of his head and he had no idea what to say. The only reason he’d walked over was because of the flowers. “Those are beautiful. What kind are they?”

“Oh, these are carnations.” She leaned down to smell them. “John knows they’re my favorite.”

Flynn leaned forward to smell them, and he was struck with the ridiculousness of the situation. He’d never given a damn about flowers before, but he hooked up with a woman and suddenly everything changed. He pulled out the one thing he did know about flowers. “I thought roses were good?”

“Oh, they are,” she smiled. “But carnations usually live a lot longer. I love them. So he got them for me for Sweetest Day.”

Flynn frowned. “Sweetest Day? Really? There is such a thing?”

Shannon nodded. “Yep. October nineteenth. My family is from out east. It’s kind of a regional holiday but John remembered.”

Flynn made some kind of response and left. Valentine’s Day was the only holiday he knew for lovers, but Shannon and John apparently knew more than he did. Should he get Willow something? Would she even care?

Deciding to err on the side of caution, he stopped at a florist on the way home. There was only one woman inside the shop and she was more than happy to sell him a big bunch of carnations. Flynn was ashamed to admit he didn’t know what Willow’s favorite color was, so he got a mixture of what the woman had.

Walking to the truck with the big bouquet in his arms, he felt ridiculous. Unwieldy, exposed. Drawing too much attention to himself.

All of that aggravation faded away as he walked in the back door of her house and through to the kitchen. Willow stood at the stove stirring something, and when she turned around and saw him holding the bundle, curiosity filled her expression, then pooling emotion. Holding the bouquet out, he stepped toward her.

Swiping her fingers beneath her eyes, she took if from him, burying her nose in the blooms. “How did you know carnations were my favorite?”

Grinning, promising Shannon another thank you, he shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“What are these for?”

Flynn frowned. “The receptionist at work says it’s Sweetest Day. Some holiday candy makers created out east.” He handed her the bar of dark chocolate.

Willow laughed but took it. “Thank you so much, Flynn. I never expected this. I’ve never gotten such a beautiful bunch of flowers.”

He found that hard to believe. “Well, you can pay me back for them later.”

She laughed, punching him lightly in the arm. “I think I can do that.”

Pulling her close, Flynn pressed a kiss to her lips, surprised all over again at the spark of need that hit him immediately. If his response was anything to go by, he would not soon be getting tired of Willow.

Chapter Eight

‡

Willow’s gaze was drawn to the flowers over and over again. She’d never heard of Sweetest Day, but she certainly appreciated Flynn’s gesture. It had been totally unexpected.

As she dipped out a bowl of creamy tomato soup, she watched him playing with Maya. The dog had been ecstatic to see him, of course, but Flynn seemed to be treating her differently somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

She flipped a grilled cheese onto a plate, placing it on the table, then went back for her own. The fruit salad was already there, so once she dipped the soup she called Flynn to eat.

When he asked about her day, she filled him in on the animals that had come in. Only one minor emergency. All the rest had been routine check-ups and vaccinations. A pretty boring day, overall.

Willow asked him about his day and a strange expression crossed his face. “I was good. Talked to my boss about a few things. I think I may do what you suggested. I’ll at least talk to the trainer.”

Happiness filled her. “Wonderful. I would never have suggested it if I didn’t think it would benefit you.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “I think she may have helped me already. I, uh…”

Flynn pushed to his feet, running his hands through his hair. It was obvious he had something important to tell her, but didn’t know how to do it.

“You don’t have to explain anything, Flynn, really.”

He shook his head in frustration. “It’s important. I just don’t want you to think I’m crazy.” He tossed her a self-deprecating grin.

Willow smiled back, leaning deeper into the chair, wishing she could help him through this. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

After a long pause, he dropped back to the chair, elbows resting on his knees.

“Mace was a great dog. Picked things up like he’d been training for years. Had an instinct unlike anything I’d ever seen before. When I went into the SEALs, I was all balls. I’d just graduated BUDs training at the top of my class and I thought I knew everything. Well, more than once that dog corrected me.”

Grinning, he shook his head at her. “A couple of times, he would refuse to go into a building. Just flat out refuse. If I tried to make him enter the shit went downhill fast. I learned to trust that damn dog like you would not believe.”

She leaned forward, at the edge of her chair.

“I was out of it for a solid week after I got injured and shipped stateside, but when I woke up, Mace was right there, guarding over me.”

Willow frowned in confusion. “I thought…”

“…he was killed.” The gray of his eyes darkened with pain. “He was. But it took me a while to realize that because he was everywhere. When the doctors came into my room, he was there curled up on the end of my bed. When I had a bad day in therapy, he would walk me back to my room. It took me a while, like a week, to realize that he wasn’t actually there and that I was the only one seeing him. The doctors and nurses went along with everything I said at the time because they didn’t want to threaten my progress.”

Emotion tightened her throat at the obvious pain he still felt. “I’m so sorry, Flynn.”

Shrugging, he buried his hand in Maya’s fur. She’d materialized from somewhere, sensing that he needed her.

“After a couple weeks they brought in the psych doctors. There was nothing wrong with me other than occasional flashbacks and I saw my partner everywhere, so they let my recovery continue the way it had been. It wasn’t until they released me from the hospital that they started to be concerned with my visions. They dosed me up with drugs and sent me to counseling, but nothing got rid of the apparitions. I’ve had them since I was injured. It wasn’t until I started coming to see you that they started to ease. Since Maya has crashed into my life, I’ve seen Mace less and less.”

Willow didn’t know what to say or think. The fact that he’d been beleaguered by visions made her sad, but certainly not fearful. If anything, she felt bad that he wasn’t seeing his friend as much anymore. “So, how often do you see him now?”

Flynn’s jaw firmed and his expression looked a little defensive. “Not very often.”

Willow didn’t like the way he phrased that, as if she wouldn’t be with him if they were still here. Pushing away from the table, she moved to the chair closest to his and mirrored his position, elbows on her knees.

“I think it’s fascinating that Mace has been watching over you all this time. It shows his diligence and loyalty to you, his partner. It doesn’t bother me that you have these visions. As long as they don’t harm you or anyone else.”

He shook his head. “They never have. He shows up when I’m under strain, for the most part.”

Reaching out to rest a hand on his knee, she smiled up at him. “One of your jogging buddies?”

The tension in his face eased. “Sometimes. At first I tried to outrun him, but he was there when I finished.”

“Was he at the restaurant the other day?”

He gave her a sharp look. “Yes. He was.”

“So,” she said slowly, choosing her words with care. “He comes when you’re stressed.”

Flynn tipped his head once.

“Well,” she continued, “that completely makes sense to me. He was your partner for many years in a total hell-hole. He knew where the danger was. I think this is your mind’s way of compensating. You have issues being in crowds and unfamiliar situations, like the first time you came here.”

His eyes narrowed and a smile tipped up his lips. “I wondered if you’d caught that, the first day.”

“I did,” she confirmed, “but your stress level has changed recently. I would like to think you’re comfortable with me, and with Maya when she’s around. Mace is fading away because she’s taking that burden.”

Though his expression seemed a little sad, he nodded to everything she said. “I think you’re completely right.”

He stroked his hand over Maya’s head.

“I actually tried to make a vision of him appear yesterday, and he did just for a minute, but he didn’t stay.”

She shrugged, unconcerned. “If you see him, it doesn’t bother me. Whatever you need to deal with a situation. I think training Maya to react when you have anxiety or a flashback is a more proactive approach, but I’m not going to make you feel like you have to bury that part of your personality.”

Flynn leaned forward enough to press his lips to her own, a weight slipping from his shoulders. Willow reached up and tugged on his beard, making him grin. “Don’t stress about this. After what you’ve been through, you’re allowed to have a few blemishes in your armor.”

She pushed away from the table and moved to the sink.

Flynn sat back, stunned. When he’d gone through the scenario of telling her he saw apparitions, he’d imagined tears, screaming, being kicked out of her house, a plastic smile. The total, easy acceptance had thrown him for a loop.

Willow acted as if it were no big deal. He didn’t know whether he should be offended or appreciative. Or if he should feel anger that she didn’t seem concerned. Maybe she just didn’t care. Somehow, the anger surged. Did he mean so little to her that she didn’t need to know any more details?

“As a doctor, at least, I thought you would be concerned with my prognosis, but I guess I was wrong.”

Willow turned back to him with a frown, planting her wet hands on her hips. “Of course I’m concerned, and as more than a doctor, I might add, but I know that you are able to police your own medical issues. You’re a grown man, former SEAL, so I have faith that you know what you’re doing. I think if it’s something I need to be worried about, you would tell me. Or am I mistaken?”

Flynn blinked at her, his anger fading away as he shook his head.

He watched as she started to clean up the dinner mess, unconcerned.

Now he felt ridiculous for his aggravation. Was he looking for something to rock the boat? The sense of rightness he felt as he watched her putter and clean up was a little offsetting. He felt as if he had found where he was supposed to be.

And more importantly, he had found who he was supposed to be with.

But was it too easy?

Crossing the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, tucking his nose into her wispy hair. Desire shuddered through him when she rubbed her butt against his hips. “You’ll never get the dishes done if you keep doing that.”

She bent over a little further, daring him. “I think they need to soak.”

Flynn gripped her hips in his hands and rubbed himself against her. The relief and acceptance he read in her body language was exhilarating. More than he’d ever hoped for when he’d planned out the evening.

Grabbing her hand, he tugged her through the house and into her bedroom. Once there, he started to strip her out of her clothes. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She giggled and turned in his arms. “You didn’t need the warning at all. I’m up for anything you throw at me, Flynn.” She pressed her mouth to his, nibbling at his lips before plunging her tongue inside.

Flynn groaned, his need ratcheting through the roof as she pressed her bare breasts to his chest. Leaning away far enough to rip his t-shirt over his head while her fingers worked at his zipper, Flynn tried to remember the last time he’d been so consumed by anything.

Not since he’d worked Mace through Afghanistan with the rest of the team.

He buried his nose in her hair, pressing kisses along the length of her neck. Using his teeth, he gently nipped her earlobe. She shuddered in his arms and curled into his chest.

Flynn felt the way he used to years ago, before Afghanistan, strong and healthy, confident. He wanted to fight Willow’s dragons. And get back to living life.

Willow suddenly dropped to her knees in front of his erection, and he didn’t remember anything for a very long time. As her mouth enveloped him with heat, he tried to imagine what he’d done to deserve her.

Willow ran her hand over Flynn’s broad back as he laid facedown on the mattress, exploring the striations of the muscles. The man had made her drool from the first time she’d seen him. Now that she’d enjoyed his body and knew what it was capable of, she couldn’t turn off her need. But it was so much more than physical.

His lean face turned sideways on the pillow to look at her.

She thought about pulling a t-shirt on or something, but the appreciation in his eyes made her grin. Where other men had seen chunky, he saw voluptuous and curvy. He’d told her that over and over again just in the way he ran his hands over her, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Willow felt more secure in her body than she ever had before, because he appreciated her. She was afraid to hope that this could be a long-term relationship. As gorgeous as he was, he could choose any woman out there.

But he was here with her now.

She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek and his gaze followed the sway of her breasts. Laughing, she pecked him on the cheek again and sat back.

“I think you’re a hound dog.”

The half of his face not planted in the pillow winked at her. “I don’t think I’m the only one.”

Willow carefully straddled his lower thighs and ran her hands down the divots of his spine. “How can I not be a hound dog with this luscious ass within my reach?”

His body shook with laughter beneath her as she squeezed his ass cheeks. Twisting beneath her, he managed to turn himself face-up without dislodging her. Willow was happy enough to plant herself on his flaccid cock, knowing that just a little bit of grinding would get him ready for her again.

But when her eyes connected with his, he’d gone serious.

“I’ve heard it’s against post-coital protocol to talk emotions after sex, but I have to tell you how much I, I…enjoy being with you. I can’t believe how lucky I was when I spotted your office sign.”

Her heart clutched in her chest at the hesitation. Was it possible he was as insecure as she was?

Then she realized what he’d said. She raised a brow at him, laughing. “You stopped because of my sign?”

Grinning, he shrugged beneath her. “I was looking for something close to the apartment when I moved in last year and I remembered your sign from the drive to work. The dog is cute.”

Shaking her head at him ruefully, she leaned down enough to press a kiss to his lips.

Cupping her breasts, he lifted his knees, pressing her higher against him. When she would have shifted away, he pulled her deeper. Willow moaned, knowing that she could go again.

Instead, he pushed her vertical again.

Willow sat up on his semi-erection, tempted to grind enough for him to slip inside.

Strong hands tightened on her hips as he stared up at her. “I want you to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t do anything.”

He frowned at her. “Just listen for a minute. You have. Over the past year you’ve been nothing but nice, even though I was pretty abrasive when I started coming in here. I apologize for that.” He ran his hands down her arms to her hands. “I feel like I’m not up to being in this relationship.”

Cold fear shot down through her and she rocked back, all thought of sex gone. “What?”

“I haven’t been in a serious relationship for the past few years. I had a girlfriend when I went over, but it wasn’t serious enough to keep together over deployment. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Willow started to lever herself off. “If you need time…”

He grabbed her thighs to keep her where she was and sat up in the bed, hardly straining as he adjusted her weight. “You don’t understand. I don’t need time. I need guidance.” Another hand swiped through his hair. “I’m going to fuck something up and this is too important for me to do that.”

Relief flowed through her. He wasn’t trying to break up.

“Don’t worry about fucking something up. As long as you talk to me when you’re not sure, we’ll be fine. I’m not perfect. I can count on one hand the number of relationships I’ve been in and most of them were with animals.”

Flynn snorted. “You know, I can see that.”

Willow tweaked his right nipple, making him grin.

“I do know that we’re different enough from everybody else that we’re going to have to create our own reality. But that’s part of the fun.”

He nodded at her words. “I’m good with that. I just want you to know that I will give my all to this. And to us.”

“Then that’s all I can ask,” she whispered, leaning forward to press her lips to his. Drawing in a deep breath, she reached for a star. “I love you, Flynn.”

His gray eyes darkened with intensity. “And I love you, Willow. You’ve completely changed my life.”

Tears clouded her vision, but she was secure because he wrapped his arms around her.

“And you’ve changed mine,” she whispered.

Epilogue

‡

Willow watched her man walk toward her, struck all over again by how handsome he was. Women turned to watch his tall, muscled frame in the too-tight t-shirt as he skirted the crowd to her table. The wraparound shades hid his eyes, but she knew they would be scanning back and forth, searching for threats.

She never thought she’d get him to come here.

When he drew close enough, she smiled up at him as she took the big glass of lemonade from his hands. “Hey, Gorgeous. Thank you!”

With a final broad look behind, he settled onto the bench across from her. As Willow took a heavy swallow of the sweet drink, she glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one had gotten too near. “You’re doing perfect. I don’t think I need to tell you that.”

He grinned at her and nodded. “Nobody said anything about Maya and they kept a wide berth once they noticed her vest.”

He and Maya had grown tremendously together through the months of training and she wore her red service dog vest proudly. But this was a huge step for both of them.

It was the middle of the day, so the serious noise hadn’t started on the midway yet of the Denver County Fair, but it was still busy. People wandered through the animal barns and ate fried food, enjoying the bright August day. The games were just starting to open up, but the rides wouldn’t start for a couple hours. They’d be gone by that time, but this would still have been an awesome trial.

A little boy of about three wandered over from one of the nearby tables. He only had eyes for Maya though. The dog wagged her tail as he walked closer but glanced behind to Flynn, as if seeking permission. Flynn nodded and only then did she lick the little boy across the cheek, sending him into giggles. The little one patted her on the head, laughing when she nuzzled his cheek.

Flynn barely tensed when a woman rushed over to snatch up the boy. Willow saw her glance at the vest and cringe. “I’m so sorry he bothered you. He’s just so fast.”

Flynn waved a hand and even smiled at the woman. “No big deal. The dog appreciates the attention.”

The boy’s mother relaxed and even smiled at Flynn, a little dazed, before turning back to her own table. Once seated she glanced behind her for one more peek.

Willow watched the exchange with interest. “I think that’s one of the most laid-back reactions I’ve ever seen you have.”

He turned his head to her and she wished he would take off his glasses so she could see his clear gray eyes. “Maya knows when something’s not right. Like that guy last week. I’ve learned to follow her lead.”

Willow nodded. The two of them had been on an embezzling investigation last week and when Maya and Flynn had sat in on an interview, one of the suspects had put Maya on edge. She’d paced and whined and stared until the man had been intimidated enough to confess. Not what she’d been trained for, but it had worked out that day.

Man and dog had learned to rely on each other more and more. Maya had learned to anticipate trouble areas, sometimes sooner than Flynn did himself, and she guided him out of them faithfully. If he called her Mace here and there, she didn’t seem to mind.

“Still, though, it’s been an amazing year.”

“It has,” Flynn agreed softly. He leaned toward her across the table, pushing his shades up onto his head. Willow met him part way to press a kiss to his lips, tickled that he’d shown her his eyes. When she would have pulled away, he cupped her head in his hands. “I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate you. If you hadn’t seen what you did and suggested training Maya for companion work, I wouldn’t even be here.” He turned his head enough to glance around, before focusing back on her.

Tears filled her eyes but she wiped them away. “I love you, Flynn. I think you would have found a way to live again eventually, but I can’t say I’m not happy to be the one to bring you out of it. I think Mace sent you to find Maya and you were meant to walk through my door with her in your arms. Because I know in my heart I was meant to love you.”

He nodded and swallowed heavily, pressing another kiss to her lips before pulling away. There was a sheen to his eyes now, too, which choked her up all the more.

Willow was shocked at how quickly the year had flown by. As a couple, they did everything together, but it was never enough. At night, as they rocked each other to oblivion, then held each other afterward, they both agreed that if they could become one with the other person, they would do it. Their connection had strengthened to the point that just a look could convey an entire conversation.

Sometimes, when he seemed sad, it was because he hadn’t seen Mace in a long time. At those times, though, he would always reassure her, telling her ‘I’ve lost one dream but gained another’.

There was no limit to the amount of love she felt for her SEAL.

As he left his bench to circle around the table and settle behind her, she interlaced her fingers with his and rested them on her tummy, softly rounded with another of their dreams.

*

If you would like to read more about the disabled heroes of the Lost and Found Investigative Service, check out these books:

The Embattled Road (FREE prequel)

Embattled Hearts

Embattled Minds

Uniform Desires anthology

Other books by J.M. Madden

Second Time Around

A Needful Heart

Wet Dream

Love on the Line Book 1

Love on the Line Book 2

The Awakening Society – FREE

Tempt Me

Urban Moon Anthology

Connect with J.M. Madden

If you’d like to connect with me on social media and keep updated on my releases, try these links:

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And of course you can always email me at authorjmmadden@gmail.com

About the Author

I am a wife and mother of two. I am a stay at home writer, which I dearly love, and I recently added the title USA Today Bestselling author to my moniker.

I was a Deputy Sheriff in Ohio for nine years, and I found myself tapping that experience as I wrote Second Time Around, my very first book. No, I didn’t tackle and cuff my husband, although there was that time in K-mart… Anyway, it was quite a change going from writing technical reports with diagrams, witness statements, inventories, etc., that would stand up in court to writing contemporary romance. I’ve always written, though, and it was always a dream to do something with that huge, leaning stack of spiral bound notebooks.

I’ve now published 13 books, with many more on the way. I thank you so much for taking an interest in my work!

Stay tuned! There’s a lot more coming!

SEAL My Destiny

Sharon Hamilton

Copyright © 2014 Sharon Hamilton

EPUB Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Chapter One

‡

Navy SEAL Luke Paulsen had that dream again.

Her red lips felt like tiny pillows against his cool mouth. Though he was buried in his Afghan dugout bunk, he could feel the delicate vibration of her moan as her lust for him whispered things. Unmentionable things. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall her words. He could only remember the heat washing over him as she breathed life into him. Again. Like she did every night.

A sharp crack of gunfire forced him to open his eyes. He caught a glimpse of Carson’s frightened face in profile just before the young Marine caught a round in the chest that ripped through him, between his shoulder blades. In a graceful dance Luke had seen all too often, Carson fell into his arms and he watched the youngster’s life bleed out onto the sandy pit and all over his boots. He held Carson’s clear blue gaze, and, without saying a word, told him he’d see him again one day as he witnessed the young Marine’s passage from his arms into the arms of death. The boy’s eyes remained open and fixed after his soul had departed.

A split second later, Luke remembered who he was and why he was here. A day’s ride by donkey from anywhere. He lifted the tiny mirror on a wire, the sun to his back.

Still clutching the body of the lifeless Marine, he traced the trajectory of the round that had killed his young apprentice, and caught the glint of dark blue steel disappearing into a blackened doorway. Laying the Marine down gently, he picked up his H&K MP5, counted to five while he clicked the safety once. Before he saw the barrel of the ragman’s rifle again, he fired off several rounds which landed exactly ten inches above the protuberance, and then saw the red spray of a kill.

Was it wrong that the color of the spray reminded him of her crimson lips? That he died a thousand little deaths with each of her kisses?

His dreams were stealing his present.

A week later, SO Luke Paulsen watched the sun pour itself into the horizon on one of San Diego’s white sand beaches. The afterglow felt good. So did the blush on his face from the three beers. He usually drank with the rest of his SEAL Team 3. But this last DT, Dissociative Tour, in Afghanistan had honored him with a cadre of young Marines eager to prove themselves, including Carson, the medic-in-training.

But Carson had drawn a different card and had taken the short flight to heaven while his body took the long flight home. Luke raised his long-necked IPA to the sunset and toasted the kid.

“To all the young hearts you won’t break,” he whispered to the soothing waves and the sunset.

It was a damned shame. He believed Carson would have made an excellent doctor.

Luke heard laughter as two lovelies in shorts ran past him to splash in the surf. Slender, tanned legs kicked droplets of white foam into the air. He loved watching the girls’ carefree spirit, just being goofy and lacking an ounce of self-consciousness. He couldn’t help but smile.

The dark-haired girl, the one with the cut off, inside-out sweatshirt that showed her muscled midriff, stopped and turned to face Luke. Her brown eyes were set wide apart over a thin nose that led to full lips that were stained bright red. She licked those lips and pushed her chocolate brown hair from her forehead, exposing a delicious ridge of little worry lines on an otherwise smooth and flawless forehead. She cocked her head at a tiny angle and waved in that embarrassed way her mother must have told her never to do. Especially to a strange sailor sitting alone on the beach with empty beer bottles at his feet.

Luke waved back, using the same three middle fingers she used, sending his communication off with a shy smile. He imitated the angle of her head and felt the dangerous curiosity and wonder of their chance meeting.

He wanted her in the worst way.

The blonde was pulling her friend, gesturing to a spot down the beach, but the dark-haired girl wasn’t having any of it. Luke’s unspoken message clearly had touched her, and the golden tethers of his thoughts drew her to him, just as if he had special powers. It was lovely when that happened. He could almost believe in the supernatural, like those paranormal guys his sister read about in her romance novels.

The exquisite young thing with the well-defined legs came to within striking distance. If he wanted to—and hell, yes, he wanted to in the worst way—he could reach out and bring her into his arms. And he could tell she wouldn’t resist. But it would be so much better if he showed a little restraint.

Those who wait? What was that saying?

No matter. Luke felt the confusing enchantment like vamps did in those books. It was a pleasant fantasy. Let her have her way with him. Yes. He could tell she felt she had a date with destiny.

I can be your destiny for one night, darlin’.

She disposed of her friend with a sharp command and, alone now, stepped closer to Luke. “You look like you could use some company,” she said as she swung her upper torso from side to side. Her feet had planted themselves in the sand and he watched her pink nail polish peek out between the grains.

Lady, you have lovely toes.

But she’d asked a question that needed an answer.

“That depends,” he was stunned at the joy it gave him let his eyes walk slowly up her body, every lovely inch, heightened by the knowledge that she let him. He watched the tops of her breasts quiver under the cotton sweatshirt. He’d learn to assess subtle changes in body language and heart rate. He noticed the blush in her cheeks and the red blotches on her chest just below the delicate V at the top of her breastbone. His eyes roamed over her quivering chest again and he smiled. He couldn’t wait to hear her response.

“Depends on what?” she asked. Her brown eyes mirrored truths he wasn’t sure he’d divulged to himself.

“If it’s complicated,” he said. “I like uncomplicated.” He was telling her something he was trying to convince himself he believed.

She took a sudden brief inhale, her gaze quickly diverted to the ocean, giving him a full-pour look at her upper torso, every curve and dip until he thought perhaps he could even taste her skin. What Luke saw in profile was a strong, handsome woman with a body made for hard loving, and who was unafraid.

Then she turned back and faced him fully. Her body dropped to her knees in front of him so quickly he thought perhaps she’d suddenly gotten ill. “I don’t do uncomplicated,” she whispered. “I like it complicated, and rich. I like entangled. I like feeling everything and being sorely missed when I’m gone.”

She didn’t physically touch him, but she had mated with a part of his body that was rarely visited.

His soul.

He walked around the front of his red Mustang, watching her squirm to get comfortable, crossing those impossible legs on his leather front seat. His pants felt tight from things springing to life. Yup. He had the brass band, the pom-poms, and the whole fucking cheering section working on him now. It was going to be an effort to take it slow.

He realized he wasn’t going to be in charge when he opened the driver’s door and tucked his stiff torso carefully around the steering wheel. When he looked at her face, she was staring at his lap.

So much for secrets.

Now that she knew he knew that she knew, it was going to be fucking impossible to go anything slower than the speed of a bullet train.

“I’m between places…” he started to say by way of an apology.

“I have a roommate and she’s home tonight,” she said as she frowned. “But I’m okay with a motel.”

They were magic words. He leaned across the center console and planted a long, languid kiss against her hungry lips, lips just like the girl in his dream. She wore her perfume subtly, somewhere behind her ears or between her breasts, because the mild aroma hooked his chest until he found himself with his arms wrapped around her, pressing her into him, feeling those firm, perfect breasts.

Her delicate fingers slid down his thigh and traveled over his erection. She squeezed him, and his package stiffened to full attention. He didn’t want her to stop, but he’d make a mess right there in the front seat of his Mustang if they didn’t get to a motel quick.

He managed to separate himself but held her fingers in his right hand as he turned the ignition with his left. After the car roared to life, his fingers began seriously having their way with her smooth skin and the dimples above her bottom just inside her waistband, working down. She leaned forward to allow him access to anything he wanted. His forefinger had just discovered the warm cleft at the top of her derriere. She inhaled and leaned back onto his hand. Her voice was ragged as she whispered, “Hurry.”

He clumsily shifted into drive, again with his left hand, and drove one-armed, with his dick big and stiff enough to handle the steering wheel all by itself. The Pink Slipper Cottage motel came into view just in time. He thought about saying something like, “I wish I could take you some place nicer,” but that would draw too much attention to his meager military salary. Maybe she didn’t like sailors. And saying something like “You’re probably used to more expensive places,” might indicate he thought she slept around a lot.

Fuck. No, it was safest to just say nothing.

She was all over him while he signed the guest register. The college kid with thick, round glasses tried hard not to notice, except he kept clearing his throat and swallowing hard. She slid a hand down the front of Luke’s pants, which made him do a reverse whistle with his mouth.

“Luggage?” the clerk asked, and then snapped his eyes shut after stealing a look at her. The young man was in pain and couldn’t control his shaking.

“I’ll get it later,” Luke answered.

Room 428 was tiny, not that it mattered. As soon as the door closed behind him she was removing his shirt, her hands riding up the muscular ridges of his chest. The feel of her warm flesh against his, her hair brushing gently against the underside of his chin, the way she shimmied herself out of her shorts with the help of both his hands, were driving him wild with anticipation. He couldn’t get them properly naked fast enough.

She stepped back and allowed him a full length view of her nakedness, her shaved pussy, and the lips of her sex dipping down like his thirsty tongue. Her knees were spread as she let him come to her, as she twirled a bit of her dark hair around the fingers of her right hand. It was his turn to drop to his knees.

He looked up at her as his hands reached out and touched her, barely at first, then, with a lazy forefinger that circled her nub and slid up and down her moist passage. He loved looking at the fire building in her eyes as he made her wet, made her coat first one finger, then the other one, then a third as she accepted him fully. She leaned back enough so that he had all the room he needed, in case he might want to bring his face to her peach and drink.

Which of course he did. Happy to oblige. He saw the pink flesh of her lips parted as his tongue darted around the little button that made her jerk, as he sucked the lovely, tangy moisture from her like he needed it to survive. As his fingers smoothed over her ass and tested a slight press against her anus. She didn’t shy away. His cock got so stiff he had to adjust himself with his other hand. And he let her see it.

He was feeling more alive than he had in days. He’d held death, but now he was holding the promise of an evening of spilled seed, sweat, and anything else they could think of. She waited for him to taste his fill, her long hair falling down to touch the tops of her buttocks as she arched back and moaned.

He took his time with her, which he knew was what she wanted. She said she liked entangled. Complicated. Well, hell, he’d give her intense, then he’d worry about the entangled later. Right now it was all about keeping himself in check long enough not to explode all over his knees.

Finally, he stood, looking down at her, cupping her face between his hands. With his fingers reaching into the mahogany strands behind her ears, he brought her to his mouth, still wet with her arousal. Before they could meet, she closed the distance, pressed against his hunger, and fed from his lips. His tongue found hers and caressed it as she plunged deep.

Slowly she wrapped one leg around his and slid her wet sex against his thigh. Her breathing was ragged as she told him she couldn’t press hard enough, couldn’t get enough. He lifted her with both hands seated below her butt cheeks, and slid her over his erection until her opening got snagged on him.

At this she tensed. Out of nowhere she produced a foil packet. He didn’t want to set her down, but she was determined he wear something, so he obliged her. He let her lead him over to the bed where she pushed him down, climbed on top and slowly ripped the upper edge of the foil packet. It was one of those fancy pink gizmos with ridges.

Holy Goats, how am I going to last?

As if she heard him, she smiled. She pulled on his hand as it rested under his head on the starched white pillow, and made him help her. Used his fingers to lubricate her opening, then lubricate him, then cover him with the pink latex. In tandem, they massaged his rock hard cock up and then down slowly.

Two of his fingers were still inside her when his cock entered her and she took a quick, deep inhale, and then settled herself down on him, laying her legs back and to the side for full penetration. God, he was deep.

They began a rhythmic pattern as she rode him, as she raised herself and then crushed into him, as her muscles contracted around him and he started to feel a loss of control.

He’d been clutching one of her butt cheeks so hard, as he rammed up inside her, he felt welts on her skin. She removed his hand and showed him she wanted to change positions. She rolled to her side, then on her stomach, raising her sweet little derriere.

He got to his knees behind her as if in worship. He could fully enjoy her little nude opening, the red glistening folds that beckoned to be touched, kissed, pressed to move aside.

He kissed her there, from behind, tilted his head and watched his fingers lose themselves deep inside her again. She closed her eyes, then turned her face into the pillow, arching up even further. He tucked one of the pillows under her belly and smoothed his fingers over her ass, massaging the cleft between her cheeks. With one finger on her anus button, he positioned himself, ready to enter from behind. He rooted at her opening. His granite cock had no trouble navigating the lubricated soft tissues of her sex. He plunged deep inside her again, deliciously burying himself to the hilt.

He was locked in her tangle of arms and legs, loving the smell of her arousal and the sound of her breath. He felt her soft flesh against his thighs, against his chest as he hovered over her, digging deep and having as much of her as he could. He couldn’t stop himself to properly take his time to explore. That would have to come later. Now it was all about having her or he’d die trying. Or explode like an IED.

She turned her face in profile to him as he continued to pump her from behind. Her lips pursed in an O of heightened arousal as he saw goose bumps wash up her arms, and he couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss her bunched-up lips. Her eyes grew wide in reaction as he filled her, needed her more than he would ever be able to say. He kissed her through her moans, claimed her mouth, all of her.

She rose up on her knees, arched her back, pushing her butt into his groin, begging him to go deeper still. She threw her head back onto his shoulder, panting, pulling him inside her with her fingers clutching his butt cheeks. He wanted to ram so far inside her he was blinded to everything else in the room.

Her spasms tightened around him. She held her breath, then shuddered, and groaned into her release. And he was right there with her, thrusting from behind and then holding firm until he could pump out every drop.

This was the part when he always got uncomfortable. Several heartbeats later, he wanted to say something. Something other than “thanks” or “that was great.” But again, it was prudent not to say anything at all. He continued to taste and kiss and rub himself against her, every bit of her he could feel. This had been way too fast. He hoped she wasn’t disappointed.

She didn’t look like she minded. Besides, he had a plan to make it up to her.

He delicately flipped her over on her back, kissed the salty hollow between her shoulder and neck and she groaned again when he re-entered her. Her skin felt like silk. His tongue easily traced a path down over both her nipples as he suckled them slowly, first the right and then the left. Her fingers sifted through his scalp. She traced the arch of his ears, then pulled his face to hers and begged for a deep, penetrating kiss he was only too glad to provide.

He’d fuck her until the sun rose again, and then fuck her again at dawn and through breakfast if she would let him.

Fuck breakfast. Fuck lunch. Fuck dinner.

He’d found her. He’d finally found her, that woman from his dreams. He watched her walk with that tall, confident gait only a woman for him could have. She was someone he could love and love hard. She could love all the sand and dust and death off him. She would let him show her how much he needed this connection.

And she wouldn’t run away.

He was caught, entangled, willingly dying those thousand little deaths as she kissed him. His real flesh and blood dream woman breathing life into him.

Again.

And he would never let her go.

Well, at least not until tomorrow or the next day.

Chapter Two

‡

Julie woke up to the feel of his lips on her chest. His gentle touch didn’t startle her. He was leading her from sleep to the pleasure of his morning, and, even though her dreams had been wonderful, this was better, much better.

She hadn’t seen his face clearly last night in the dark, but her fingers had traveled over his body hungrily, and she felt she knew him, all of him. As he looked up at her, he was more handsome than she’d imagined. Clear, icy-blue eyes and dark brown hair, dark stubble on his cheeks and around full, sensual lips, his bare shoulders revealing powerful muscles rippling underneath.

“Good morning,” he said.

“It kinda is a good morning, isn’t it?” She traced his bottom lip with her forefinger. The weight of his chest against her breasts was delicious. She could feel his heartbeat and hear the rumble of his steady inhale and exhale. She liked him even better in the light of day.

She could tell he wanted to ask her things, talk to her, and she liked that about him. Their lovemaking had been fierce and consuming. He played her body like he’d done it for years. She wondered how he managed to do that.

He’s an experienced lover. That must be the answer. She felt the little niggling of doubt creep in, wondering if she’d satisfied him. Seeing his gentle smile and feeling the way his thumbs tenderly caressed her forehead, the way he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, sent her the message he’d been pleased. Wanted more, but didn’t want to show it. Was waiting for her move, and boy, that was sexy as hell.

“What are you thinking, beautiful?” he asked.

“I was thinking about you. Wondering where you’d come from, and what brought you to the beach last night, how come we crossed paths,” she swallowed, “like we did.” She blushed and saw his lips arch up at the sides as his eyes laughed.

“We did. We certainly did, didn’t we?”

She tried not to grin. He was making her hot for him all over again.

“I think we both needed something,” she said, and immediately regretted it.

He lowered himself to whisper to her lips, “I certainly did, and you certainly delivered.”

Wow. Just holy fuckin’ wow. Did he just say that? She rolled it around in her mind. It was okay that a hookup could be beautiful. That she would be left wanting more. But she’d never done this before, jumped into bed with someone so quickly. Recognized the need within her own body and found that missing piece in the arms of another. She’d always thought of herself as a cautious girl, and even a little afraid of love. What had made her say the things she’d said, do the things she’d done?

It was like some part of her had been revealed that she’d had no idea she possessed.

The familiar panic of second thoughts set in, and she caught herself reconsidering choices and decisions she normally made so carefully. She’d thrown caution to the wind, and had found something that was deep and in need of roots to grow. But it came with huge risks. She could get hurt.

He could too. She took out her internal disclosure statement, and, yup, she’d signed it and printed her name underneath in blood. That statement had prepared her for all the negative things that could happen, had saved her from the heartache of never getting that phone call the next day, the next week.

Or worse, thinking he could be somebody he wasn’t, like the young Navy recruit she’d met last year in San Diego, who told her he loved her; only it turned out he was a serial liar and had girls lined up in every port all over the world. Either way, her internal disclosure was supposed to protect her from falling for the wrong guy.

He was too handsome, too beautiful as a lover, to be wandering around unattached.

“Where’d you go, darlin’?” He had a slight southern accent and she’d just picked up on it.

“Where are you from?”

“Here.”

“No, I mean where did you grow up?”

“In a house, with my mom and dad and little sister. All over the U.S.”

Little alarm bells began to flash. He was being secretive. Didn’t want her to know personal details. It was not a good sign.

“You?” he asked.

“I grew up in the North Bay Area. California native.”

“Ah! She reveals herself.” He kissed her gently. “Never been there, but I’ve had friends tell me it’s a beautiful part of paradise.”

“It is. My folks still live there.” She was hoping that might spur him on to tell her more about himself. But that wasn’t going to happen.

He was watching the rise and fall of her chest. Was he making fun of her? Why had he answered so vaguely? She decided to be a little more direct. “Explain what ‘everywhere’ means, please.”

He kissed her just under her right ear, right where it made her sex ache for him all over again. He’d found several of her spots. Holy cow, the guy was a sex machine.

He kept kissing her. “There’s really not much to tell. We lived all over the place. My dad was military.” His knee rubbed over her thigh, moving up slowly on the bed until her wet peach was resting right on it. He moved back and forth until she was so hot for him he could probably feel the vibration coming from between her legs as he stroked her.

She was getting dizzy with desire.

She fingered his tats. He had a Celtic band across his bicep. A Fear/Faith scripted tat over his heart. What looked like maybe frog prints from his wrist to his elbow. The number 5326 on his other bicep. She’d seen the large skull tat on his back with something written under it in Latin. That one she could go look up later. So she chose the 5326 and brushed her fingers over it.

“Tell me about his one.”

“It’s the prime directive.”

His face was deadly serious. She was looking for some hint, some help so she could understand him. The number meant something.

“Directive for what?” she finally asked. That made him grin, showing blindingly white teeth. He licked his lips.

“All beautiful women must be made love to as often as possible. The directive to stay in bed all day. Not to eat. Not to sleep.”

“All? All day?” She sounded like a teenager for a second. Did he notice?

He nodded. God, how she loved those honest blue eyes.

“And how many of those do you claim? I mean, do you do this often?” She hoped it didn’t sound jealous, but right now, lying underneath him, she didn’t want anyone else in the picture. There certainly wasn’t anyone else in hers.

“You caught me at a good time. I’m completely alone. And I’ve just come back from overseas.” He was not smiling.

“So does 5326 specify what I’m supposed to do?” She softened her question by lifting her head and meeting his lips gently and then lying back to watch him take it all in.

He was moving his callused palms over her shoulders, splaying his fingers up the side of her neck and into her hair, clutching, drawing her up to meet his lips again. Into her ear, he said, “How long can you go without food?”

Chapter Three

‡

A knock on the door followed by a key card woke him up. He’d forgotten about the checkout time for the room…it’d been lost somewhere between their lovemaking and his need for sleep to regenerate. He didn’t want to wake her, so eased out of bed and was headed to the door to lock it when the maid opened it wide, and shrieked at the sight of him standing there fully naked.

Luke grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around his waist.

Of course, she hadn’t slept through the little drama at the front door. She was smiling up at him, angling her head.

“Forgot about housekeeping,” he said with a shrug.

“I’ll bet you made her day.”

Okay, he liked that. “I’m sure she’s seen worse,” he said honestly.

She sat up, pulling the sheet up over her chest, and he figured it was because he’d covered himself up with the towel.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She twisted her long hair, brought her knees to her chest under the covers, and closed her eyes. “Starved.”

“Shower?”

“Love to.” She uncovered, showing the flat tummy and abundant breasts that were more than a handful, but just right. She had hips, and a nice ass but narrow waist. She wasn’t overly buff or cut, but well toned, and had the softest skin he’d ever felt. His package was coming to life as she walked in front of him, and allowed her hip to touch his member ever so slightly, jacking his libido into a bonfire.

She got as far as the shower curtain before he could grab her arm and draw her tight against his chest. He got lost in the deep kiss he urgently initiated. His hand fisted in the back of her hair as her little mewling sounds drove him to pull her tighter.

She melted against him, all her curves and valleys blending to complement his hardness. He was breathless, his heart slamming against his ribcage. He wondered if they should consider not going out, but willed himself to separate from her and search her face.

He didn’t even know her name. He suddenly didn’t want to ask her. That was such bad form. Wasn’t the guy supposed to ask all those questions before having sex? He couldn’t remember ever screwing up this way, and what would she think if he asked her now?

He decided just to kiss her again and forget about it until later.

She initiated the sex in the shower. He decided he’d try to pretend it was a welcome surprise, but it was secretly what he’d been wishing forever since the maid woke them up. What a perfect way to begin a Saturday morning.

He waited until their coffee arrived before he asked her.

“I’m a little embarrassed about this, but I don’t even know your name.”

He was relieved to see she smiled without appearing to take offense. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

He started sorting through all the things they’d done in less than twenty-four hours. He had to look down at his coffee mug or he’d do a very unmanly thing: blush.

She reached across the little Formica table. “Hi. My name is Julie.”

He took her hand. “And I’m Luke.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke.”

“Likewise.”

She placed her hand back in her lap, took a deep breath and let it all out again. Picking up her cappuccino, she said, “Well, that’s better, then.”

He was thinking it was a little backwards, but he wasn’t going to complain. “So, Julie, what do you do?”

“I’m a teacher.”

He nearly spit out his coffee. “No way.”

He could see she didn’t particularly like his reaction. “Sorry.” He softened his gaze, enjoying the way her curls framed her beautiful face. He felt nerves crash in on his blissful morning.

“You don’t think teachers like to have a little fun?”

“Not the teachers I had.” Don’t want to think about the teachers I knew.

“Well it’s not like we watch porn in the classroom.” She tilted her head, watching him out of the corners of her eyes.

“You watch porn, too—when you’re not in the classroom, that is?”

“No, silly. Not really. But I do like erotic films, you know.”

Well…all righty, then. He wondered what those films were. But instead of going there, his need to get his bearings kicked in and he asked, “So you teach high school, college level?”

She laughed. “No, silly. Second grade.”

That did make him spit out his coffee. He was quick to cover his mouth with a napkin.

Damn. Just my damned luck.

“I’m sorry, but why is this a problem for you?” she asked. She was not smiling.

“It’s not a problem for me. It’s just that—” He didn’t want to tell her that his last girlfriend had been a teacher. And that relationship had ended badly, tragically. He searched for something she could buy that would keep her from digging any further. “I don’t get along very well with teachers. Even when I was a student I didn’t.”

“Apparently that’s not true,”

Her eyes danced when she smiled. He loved that part of her, but his insides were thickening and getting dark. He felt it coming on. He tried to sound casual, tried not to show it.

Please drop the subject, Julie. Please.

“I thought we got along very well together last night,” she said with a smile wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

He had to agree. The sex had been fantastic. But that was before he realized she was a teacher.

“You have kids?” she asked.

He winced. Why couldn’t she stop with the questions? “No. I’m not even married.”

“That has nothing to do with having kids.”

That was true, but it pissed him off that she’d asked.

Don’t go there. Remember your boundaries.

One of the men on SEAL Team 3 had five children out of wedlock with three different mothers. “The answers are no, and no.” He could feel his defenses spring to life. That protective shell was slamming into place around his heart, placing armor all around it. He could almost hear the hinges squeaking from disuse. It was automatic. Nothing he could do to stop it.

“So, what do you do?”

Well darn it, there it was again. Luke wasn’t in the habit of telling people he was a SEAL, or even that he was in the Navy, since they wouldn’t believe him anyway, due to his longer than military-grade haircut. He gave her the line he told most women, “I’m a Fed Ex driver.” He was hoping she’d buy it and then just drop all the questions.

“No way you’re a FedEx Driver.”

“I still can’t believe you’re a teacher.” Her instincts were good, he thought. But there was no way in hell he was going to tell her he was a SEAL.

“Why is that so hard for you to believe? You didn’t think teachers like to have fun?”

He tried to deliver his response so she’d just leave it all alone. He sucked it up and answered, “Just doesn’t fit the image. And I’ve dated a few teachers. And they definitely weren’t into having sex on the beach.” After he’d said it, he wondered if it had been a smart move. Maybe he was showing too much of his callused, damaged side. “Julie, look, I’m sorry. That sounded, um.”

The waitress appeared at the table and took their order.

After she left, Julie was smiling down at her coffee. “You know, we didn’t have sex on the beach. You took me to a motel, remember?”

“Well, yes.”

So far so good. Maybe we can still weather this conversation.

“Okay, so architects and FedEx Drivers can meet a girl and want to have sex with her. Doctors can do it. Coeds, maybe military types,” she looked up at him and grinned, “those tats, by the way, look oddly suspicious—all these people can hook up on the beach but a teacher can’t? Don’t you see what’s wrong with that picture?”

She had a point, but he wished she’d stop using that word teacher. “Okay, I agree with you. Maybe I do have some preconceived ideas, and maybe that’s unfair of me. Concerning t—” He couldn’t even say the word now. His mind raced to find something else they could talk about. “Now, librarians—”

“Grow up, get married, have sex and have babies. Just like everybody else.”

He kind of liked her smart mouth and the fact that he couldn’t talk her down, even though he’d given her all the signs. Even though he was getting uneasy. “Julie, I apologize.”

“Accepted.” She toyed with the rim of her coffee cup with one forefinger. “So you’ve dated teachers, then. I assume we’re talking dating and not just anonymous sex at the beach.”

Damn it. Would you just stop it?

“I don’t do anonymous sex at the beach,” he worked to keep all the emotion out of his voice.

“Right.” She grinned. Her dark eyes flashed him a knowing smile that would have interested his libido earlier this morning. But not now. The dark side had taken over.

She was twisting everything around. Everything she said was annoying him. “I think we need to take a couple of steps back, here, sweetheart.”

She blinked twice and waited for him to continue, so he did.

“I mean you no disrespect, but I warned you last night. I don’t do complicated.”

“Talking is complicated?”

The talking wasn’t complicated, he thought, it was the revealing his inner demons that had him concerned. No, that wasn’t right. It had him scared to death. He’d had enough. The wall had been breached.

So much for building a relationship on trust and honesty.

But then he remembered he wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone. Especially a teacher.

Chapter Four

‡

Julie knew better than to ask him if anything was wrong as they drove back to her apartment. He wasn’t going to reveal anything about himself.

If she really dug for answers, she might get stories and half-truths, just like the story about him not being in the military. She not only recognized the tats, she recognized some of the patterns of behavior. And that was beginning to send off warning signals.

It wasn’t for her to judge, although she liked him. Did it matter she didn’t know where he grew up, what he really did? It hadn’t mattered last night. Why should it matter now?

She believed that he was single. She didn’t see him as someone who would lie about that. She was sure he was not a FedEx Driver. The huge shoulders and trim hips reminded her of her brother’s friends who had been assigned to the Special Ops Command in Coronado.

She wasn’t an expert on delivery driver tats, either, but she knew plenty of Special Ops guys with skulls and other extreme symbols inking up their bodies. The skull plastered between his shoulder blades was a dead giveaway. Luke’s barbed wire rings and bands of Celtic crosses were exactly what all the elite warrior types had.

Julie was trying to talk herself into believing she didn’t mind that he was private. But she just couldn’t understand why he wanted to be private today, when last night and this morning he’d been another man. And that’s the man she wanted to have sitting next to her right now.

What the heck happened?

She recalled watching him at the beach before they spoke last night. She’d felt safe to intrude into his private space there, insert herself into his world.

Did I really do that?

They’d had sex, what, five or six times? She couldn’t ever remember doing that before. But there had been something about the man who’d been sitting there, looking out over the whitecaps, drinking beer and clearly feeling melancholy that had tugged on her heartstrings. Maybe she’d had no right to assume he wanted company. But then he seemed to need, in fact had even told her he’d needed, what she gave him. She didn’t think that was a lie, either.

They rode in silence past familiar streets, front porches and small picket fences and red tile roofs. She could feel him pulling away from her by the minute, though neither of them spoke. She got out her internal disclosure statement and double-checked her signature. Yup, she’d told herself this one could hurt if he never called her again. This type of guy was why she needed that disclosure statement in the first place. These were the ones where one moment you experienced the miracle of a life that could be, and the next you’d find yourself standing alone in the rain, locked out and without a friend.

She turned and decided to just do what she shouldn’t do. Ask him. What could it hurt? She knew he’d already made a plan, either with or without her. And she didn’t know any other way to reach him. She knew it wasn’t smart, but she had to try, or she’d regret it.

“So, what have I done, Luke?”

He had a vacant look, like he’d been deep in thought and had forgotten she was even in the car. She searched his eyes, but he didn’t look at her. All he did was lean in her direction while he kept his eyes on the road.

“It’s not you.”

“What does that mean, Luke?”

“Means you didn’t do anything wrong.”

That stung. Really sucked big time. It was difficult to keep the tears inside. But no way was she going to let him see her cry. She wanted the dignity of a good cry in private.

Except it was such an almost comical statement he’d made. In spite of what she thought was prudent, her lips turned up at the corners and she was about to laugh out loud.

She drew in a deep breath. “I did a lot of things last night, Luke, things I don’t normally do,” she said as he pulled over to the curb just outside her apartment complex. He started to get out and she put her hand on his forearm to stop him. “Did some zombie swoop down and take over your body? I’d like to know where the guy I fucked all night long went, Luke. If you run into him again, would you ask him to give me a call sometime?”

She let herself out of the car and heard swearing coming from his side of the front seat, and then out of the corner of her eye saw his towering frame stand up just outside the driver door.

“Look, Julie. Don’t blame yourself for any of this. It’s all on me.”

She turned and tilted her head until his eyes crept up to hers, and she finally was able to look directly into those icy blue wonders. She did see some pain and torment there, some of what she’d felt from his body language before they spoke for the first time last night.

“Well, Luke, that’s the most honest thing you’ve said to me in the last hour.”

He tore his gaze away and stared at the ground. The car was a suitable barrier between them, still running.

“I’m a pretty understanding person, but this is all on you. No big deal if I said something that triggered some—”

“Like I said,” he shouted over the sound of the car engine and over her voice. “It’s not something you did. It’s something that I did. And I’m sorry, but I’m not going to explain it.”

She watched as he angrily threw himself back in the car and tore off down the street, squealing the tires as he rounded the corner. Out of her life forever.

Chapter Five

‡

Luke stopped by the Rusty Scupper for a couple of beers, even though it was barely noon. He sat at the bar, staring up at the pictures of guys they’d lost. The young Marine’s picture should have been up there, but this wall was reserved for SEALs and the boat crews.

Being a medic, he understood the symptoms of PTSD. He’d had to pull guys from the arena due to the havoc it would wreak on everyone in a stressful combat situation. And having a guy not 100% was dangerous for all the guys around him.

He was going to speak to Kyle, his LPO, first. The last deployment had been hell on all of them. It was his first with this new team, Team 3, since he’d transferred from the East Coast just prior to their workup. His sister lived in San Diego. At first it had seemed like the change of scenery had done the trick. At first. He’d enjoyed working alongside Cooper, the tall medic who’d served with Kyle on four prior tours. In fact, all the guys in Kyle’s platoon were solid.

The Navy knew why he’d requested a transfer. But Kyle didn’t, unless he’d read his jacket, and he doubted his LPO had found the time since they shipped out so soon after he arrived. With the escalating signs of trouble, his memory losses, mood swings, getting lost and finding himself places he didn’t remember traveling to, he knew Kyle would be all over him before it became a problem for all of them. If he wanted to stay in, and request a discharge, which felt more like ringing the DOR bell, Drop On Request, instead of completing the BUD/S training. He’d better take the initiative. He’d seen guys who tried to cover up their issues. It was never pretty.

Kyle sauntered in with Cooper at his side. The handsome leader flashed him a big, toothpaste smile. Cooper bent his enormous 6’4” frame in a silent bow.

“So, Paulsen, what can I do you for?” Kyle asked.

Luke briefly glanced over at Cooper and then looked back at his LPO. Nobody moved. Kyle was smart and wanted another pair of ears on this conversation, meaning he’d already begun to smell something.

“I’m wondering if I should take myself out of the rotation for a cycle.”

“Oh yes? Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Kyle asked as he sat on the edge of his desk.

“I’m having trouble sleeping. I’m having the same dreams over and over again.”

“What kind of dreams?”

“This lady with red lips—”

“Shit, you got that dream too?” Cooper hooted. “I’ve been married two years, and I still get that dream.”

Luke tried to chuckle along with them. He decided to try a more direct approach so they’d take him more seriously.

“Before my transfer I was dating this girl.” He looked up at Coop and Kyle and saw nothing register in their expressions. “Things got pretty hot and heavy, you know. I got her pregnant, so I was going to marry her. I mean, I loved her and all, but when I found out I got her pregnant, I had to marry her.”

“Um hum,” Kyle nodded.

“We’d gone down to Florida to visit her folks. Had a nice family weekend down there, and we told them about the engagement, figuring we’d have a little time to talk about the baby.”

“Okay, so far I get you. So what does this have to do with you not sleeping now? Something go wrong?”

Luke nodded his head. “I’d started having trouble sleeping that last deployment. A real fuckin’ hellhole. We were training Afghan soldiers, and I just had this thought, this fear I couldn’t get out of my head, that this was the one that was going to get me. But I came back, and felt, you know.”

“Survivor’s guilt,” Kyle said.

“Yes, some of that.”

Luke stared down at the bubbles in his beer glass. Cooper was chewing ice from his mineral water. Kyle had barely touched his beer.

“I fell asleep on the way home and crashed the car. She died there, Kyle. Died in my arms.”

It was the same every time he told the story. His eyes would ache something fierce, but the tears wouldn’t come until he closed his eyes. And that was usually when he was trying to sleep.

“I’m real sorry to hear that, Luke. I didn’t have any clue that was your story. So what’s going on now?”

“I thought the transfer would help. My sister lives in San Diego, sir. I seemed to be doing pretty good,” Luke continued.

“I had no complaints. You did your job, from what I could tell.” Kyle sighed. “So, this woman you’re dreaming about, the one with the red lips?”

“It’s not her. But the red is significant.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t know who the woman was. She wasn’t my, my—the girl I was going to marry.”

“Say her name.”

“Camilla.”

“Okay, good.”

“I—well, until last night as a matter of fact—I’d never seen her face. I just used to dream about the red lips. I was dozing off, dreaming that dream, when young Carson got hit. You remember that?”

“Yes, two days before we came home.”

“Yes. Well, the lack of sleep was catching up to me. He let me take a little catnap, and that’s when he was hit.”

“And you took out the bad guy.”

“That I did. Without thinking, I did it. I can live with that part.”

“Good.”

“He died in my arms, just like she—Camilla—did. Just like her. I felt the blood, saw him pass over. I was there. Nothing I could do to stop it. I just witnessed it. And I was numb at the time, but now I have the nightmares, Kyle. I’m not sleeping more than an hour here and there.”

“And what does that add up to?”

“At the most, maybe four hours sleep.”

“And that’s not enough. You try using some meds?”

“No.”

“I’d get you some, Luke. You’ve got to get your sleep.”

“But now it’s more than sleep. It’s mood swings. I can be so incredibly happy one minute, and the next, I’m like in the pits of Hell itself.”

“When are you up for extension?” Kyle asked.

“Eighteen months. Was going to re-up when I went over the next time, but now I’m wondering if I should sit out a cycle.”

“You get to a doctor, first. You know we’ve just started those groups. Don’t want you with the inactives. You stay with the active duty SEALs.”

“I understand.” He took the last sip of his beer. “Do you think I should wait out a rotation?”

“That’s not for me to say. You’re telling me all this…which is the right thing to do, by the way…so thank you for being proactive. We like that. But I’ve not seen anything to indicate you’re not able to perform your duties. So we get you checked out. We do some PT evaluation. Your eyesight and hearing okay?”

“I’m fine in that department.”

“You getting fucked regular, like?”

Luke wasn’t quite sure he’d heard Kyle correctly.

“Sir?”

“Any things going on in your sex life you’re not happy with? I gotta ask.”

“No. Nothing’s wrong, Sir. Except—”

“What?”

“I feel a little too needy in that department.” He’d never told himself this. Was this what was scaring him?

“Shit, Luke,” Cooper interjected. “That’s just normal. We all got that.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Luke replied.

“Then you get someone strong.”

Luke promised Kyle he’d check himself in for a complete workup, including a psych evaluation. He got medication to help him sleep, and he began feeling better after a solid month of ten-hour nights. He stayed away from dating. He stayed away from complicated.

But he thought about Julie every day. She was the first thing he pictured in the morning, how she’d looked that sunny morning in the motel room. And she was the last thing he saw at night before the medication kicked in.

“I don’t do uncomplicated. I like it rich and complicated. Entangled. And I want to be sorely missed when I’m gone.”

Well, the little lady had gotten her way. Trouble was, there was no fuckin’ way she would ever know about it. It wasn’t fair.

But it was the way it was.

Chapter Six

‡

Julie hadn’t talked to her brother in weeks, not since he’d announced his engagement.

“We’re about to start having rehearsals. You ready for prime time, sis?” Colin asked.

“Doesn’t Stephanie have some gorgeous friends who want to be her bridesmaids? I don’t want her to think she’s stuck with me.”

“Nonsense. She’s got five of those already. Besides, I think…outside of her…you’ll be the prettiest gal there.

Julie remembered trying on the beautiful light pink gown Stephanie had chosen for her bridesmaids, and how elegant and regal it had made her feel. She wrote a reminder note to herself to schedule her hair, the final fitting, and to go hunting for the right bra to give her the cleavage without looking like she was poured into a too-small dress.

Julie and Colin’s parents were planning and hosting the wedding, since Stephanie had lost her mother had in a commercial plane crash when she was in high school. Her father had been in the military, and had been killed overseas some years before that.

“So, when’s the rehearsal?”

Colin gave her several dates, including the bridal shower and bachelorette party. She wasn’t that close to Stephanie, and didn’t feel she should intrude on a private party with her girlfriends, but since Julie’s Mom was going, she’d make sure they left after a respectable showing, and she’d see to it her mom got home safely.

School would be out the week before the parties and rehearsals, giving her time to take care of all of the final arrangements, and to give her parents a hand with entertaining the out-of-town guests and decorating the house and garden for the ceremony.

She had also arranged to rent a cottage from one of her friends so she could have peace and quiet when she needed a break.

She had to admit, she was looking forward to it. She’d been in a funk for the past thirty days, ever since the wonderful night and then the huge disappointment with Luke.

This was a welcome distraction as she planned her summer. It would be nice to spend a week up north, where she grew up. Get her summer vacation in gear. Shed the cobwebs of loneliness. It had been more challenging this year, thanks to a couple of whacko parents, but the kids were great, and more exceptional than usual, and that’s why she was there, anyhow.

After her phone conversation with her brother, Julie glanced over at the brochures for vacation packages she was considering. She used to hate summer vacation, since she’d had no idea what to do with the time off. No man on the horizon. She began taking her summer trips in the middle of the hiatus so she wouldn’t feel so lonely. And here it was again, another trip to Fiji, Hawaii or the Greek islands…by herself.

But that was better than staying home all by herself.

The last day of school, her car already packed and gassed up so she could leave straight from school, she turned in her year-end paperwork that morning, and stopped by the principal’s office for an update on a disgruntled parent issue.

Dr. Connors frowned when she knocked on his door. “Come take a seat.” He stood, pointing to the wooden armed chair in front of his desk. “And close the door, please.”

Julie felt her throat constrict. She did as she was told.

“I’m not making much headway with the Millers—Mr. Miller more than the Mrs.”

“They need to get that child into counseling.”

“Yes, I understand. They are willing to give her extra tutoring, but they do not want her staying back a year. You recommended she pass?”

“As a matter of fact, no, I didn’t,” Julie answered. “My reasoning is noted in the girl’s report card, which I turned in with the rest just now.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to alter them. The classroom incident aside, I don’t need angry parents complaining to the school board. That would mean consequences for all of us.”

Julie was feeling uncomfortable that her union representative wasn’t present to hear this and to give her advice. She wasn’t sure her principal was on her side, or on the side of the parents. Julie felt she was the only one on the side of the student. Her parched tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she finally asked the question she’d been dreading for the past five minutes. “Dr. Connor. Am I going to be fired?”

“No. Of course not. Not today, anyway.”

It was just like him to wiggle out of saying something he didn’t want to, which should have made her feel more comfortable, in that there wasn’t a planned trajectory to remove her from her job. But that didn’t make her feel very secure, either.

“So they’re still talking about suing the school.”

“And me personally, and you personally.”

“Me?”

“You are the one who they allege said things to their daughter in front of the whole class.”

“Which is completely untrue, and I have student witnesses who are happy to dispute it. I would never say those vicious things. Those words aren’t even in my vocabulary, Dr. Connor.”

“Their attorney claims you are holding a grade or expulsion notice over their heads,” he said solemnly.

“Their attorney? So now they have an attorney?” Julie could not believe how the lie the student had told her parents had managed to escalate to such a degree. And she partly blamed her principal for not acting more quickly. He’d elected to wait until the family had sent their third letter to his office.

“I’m sorry but we’ll be dealing with this all summer. I’ll be in touch.”

“You want me to get the paperwork on the year-end evaluation?”

“No, I’ll find it. I’ll call you if I need anything else.”

“Dr. Connor, I’m going up north today for my brother’s wedding. I won’t be around for another week at least. Probably ten days.”

“Fine. No worries.” He rose and extended his hand, which Julie shook, hoping he couldn’t feel her nervousness. “Have a good wedding!” His cheery smile, plastered quickly onto his face, made her stomach churn.

Shaken, she found it a struggle to stay focused and drive safely during the ten-hour trip up to her parent’s home in Sonoma County.

She solved the problem by listening to the seductive voice of her favorite narrator reading the latest novel from a romance series she loved. It was the perfect way to spend the hours on the road. It put her in the middle of an intense relationship with a strong guy who loved hot sex and wanted to protect her. She became the heroine. It was a pleasant fiction, feeling loved so intensely. She knew her fantasy life was good for her. And it certainly went a long way toward easing the uneasiness about her job, and helping her set aside her heartache over Luke.

She wished her real life was more like this audiobook love story. And it had seemed so possible during that magical night with Luke. There was something about him, and she couldn’t figure out what, exactly, that was so damned close to the hero in this audio romance. A hero who struggled with something from his past that had damaged him.

Julie wondered about that damage. She wondered what it was that haunted Luke. They’d barely spoken that urgent night…a night that still left her breathless every time she dreamed about it.

And yet, something had felt so right about being with Luke.

And at the same time, there was something so wrong about him.

The long driveway that wound to her family home through clusters of oak and madrone trees was a welcoming sight. As she climbed the hill, she could see the valley floor below. Up north, the geysers were spewing steam, and the horizon was turning pink, indicating there would be a nice salmon glow at sunset.

Her mom came out to greet her before she could get to the front door.

“Julie, so glad you’re safe. The guest room is all ready for you.”

“No, Mom. Remember, I told you? I’m staying at a friend’s house while they’re in Europe. Besides, you’ve got tons of relatives coming from the east coast who arrive this week, right?”

“Next week. I just thought that you could stay here. One night? Just one night?”

She always had a hard time saying no to her mother.

“Fine. But just one night. I need a little time to relax and clear my head. Yesterday was the last day of classes, you know.”

“Not to worry. Your dad will be so happy to see you.” Her mother picked up her duffel bag and hitched it over her shoulder. “Colin and Stephanie will be here to go over some details after your dad gets home.”

“Great.” That meant another late night, Julie thought. Not exactly what she wanted, but she’d just have to get caught up on her rest tomorrow night.

The rehearsal dinner was a catered affair. The warm, early June evening was perfect for eating on the patio under the stars. Julie’s parents’ home was built in the middle of vineyards, overlooking a small lake. They had sent small boats holding votive candles sailing out from its grassy banks just before the sun set. Crickets had begun to chirp. An occasional frog mouthed off, telling her it would be a full-chorus night.

Stephanie looked radiant, as she always did. Colin was working to keep some of his five groomsmen away from her, and Julie enjoyed seeing him so possessive, but happy. She hoped some day this would be her fate…having friends and family share in a glorious celebration of love, here in her gorgeous childhood home.

One of the groomsmen was running late, so they sat around the patio sipping wine until they heard the doorbell ring.

Julie decided she’d play hostess and ran to answer, leaving her parents to mingle with the guests and deal with the caterer.

She threw the door open, caroling “It’s about time you got here, Mr. Sixth Groomsman, we’ve been waiting for you so long that everybody’s had a bit too much wine, and…”

Luke Paulsen stood on their doorstep.

He was dressed in baggy jeans and a light blue shirt. Though he was dressed casually, there was no mistaking the muscles beneath the cotton fabric, muscles that bulked out his magnificent chest, making the shirt spread deliciously over his breastbone. A trail of light brown hair lingered there, daring her to be inappropriate. It had been at least a month since she’d run her fingers up that chest, up the side of his massive neck, and pulled his lips to hers with consuming need, but she remembered so vividly, it was if she’d just left his bed.

Her need was no less right now, standing in front of this irresistible man without touching him.

His hair was slicked back a bit from a recent shower, emanating the faint scent of soap and just a little aftershave. But his blue eyes bored into her, making her knees wobble. She felt so light-headed she could almost float up into the night sky.

He was obviously surprised, too, but a wild, kind of feral look crossed his face, an involuntary lifting one corner of his lips. His chest expanded as he inhaled hard enough to suck her right into his arms, which she refused to do.

She’d steeled herself for the possibility of running into him in San Diego, but she’d never thought she’d find him standing at her front door. For an instant she thought perhaps he had found her, was coming to the house to apologize for his behavior in San Diego, but then it dawned on her.

Luke was the sixth groomsman.

Chapter Seven

‡

“Julie,” he said hoarsely. “What are you doing here?”

She exhaled, aware that dark circles had begun to gather, narrowing her vision, because she’d been holding her breath. “I live—lived here. This is my parents’ home.”

She could see he was troubled. “Then Colin is your brother.”

“Yes.”

“Stephanie is my sister.”

The knowledge that this marriage meant Luke would soon become part of her family sent panic from the base of her skull down to her toes. This man, who had at first brought her unspeakable passion, who had awakened something deep inside her, and then rejected her, was here to participate in the union of their two families.

It was wrong on every imaginable level. And so totally unfair.

“Luke!” Colin called out as he walked towards them. “Hey, bro, I see you’ve met my lovely sister.”

How could this be happening?

“Yes,” Luke said as he avoided eye contact with her. “We just met.”

“What did I tell you? Huh? She’s single, and I think she’d be just your type.”

I’m not hearing this. This isn’t real. “Julie, Luke, here, is a Navy SEAL.”

Check that one off my list. Figures.

Her anger at how completely fucked up this all was gave her strength. “Oh, really?” She lowered her eyelids and spoke while tilting her head back, viewing his face through the tiniest slits her eyes could make. “Looks more like a UPS driver to me.”

“Ha. You’re funny, sis,” Colin said. He leaned into Luke and whispered just loudly enough so she could hear him. “I think she likes you,” following it up with a waggle of his eyebrows. Colin threw his arm around Luke’s shoulders, which looked ridiculous because Luke was nearly three inches taller and probably outweighed him by forty pounds. He pulled Luke to the kitchen.

Julie slammed the front door so hard it sounded like a sonic boom. Voices in the other room immediately stopped. Her mother poked her head around the corner, her eyebrows knitted together.

“Sorry. The wind caught it.”

Her mother smiled and disappeared again.

Luke stood by his sister and was shaking hands with several of the other groomsmen and being introduced to family members. He shook hands with Julie’s parents, which was one of the strangest scenes Julie had witnessed in a long time.

Julie decided she’d just ignore him. Whenever he moved into her line sight, she’d turn her back. She’d stare to the side to avoid having to see him out of the corner of her eye. She’d look down, or check her fingernails—she’d look anywhere and everywhere but in his direction. There was no way she was going to tolerate his scrutiny before she’d had that good and thorough talk with herself and perhaps a nice, long, private cry.

Very quickly, Julie ran out of places she could look without appearing to be a social deviant. She began to feel like one. Her mother had come over to her several times, asking if she was feeling well. That meant that her efforts to look casual and unaffected were definitely not working.

The minister arrived, and the rehearsal began in earnest. She was put into position behind Stephanie’s friends. And—of course!—Luke was placed in the corresponding position on Colin’s side.

Great. She wondered what else could go wrong. And she didn’t have to wait long to find out.

The minister wanted the bridesmaids and groomsmen to walk in together, all the pairs from the wedding party, arm in arm. She tried her very best not to touch him, which was naturally impossible. She tried not to have their legs brush against each other, which was also impossible. She tried not to think about the electric sizzle of his arm as he hugged hers to his side. And while she got more and more tense, he relaxed.

And he threaded the fingers of his right hand through the ones on her left, holding them tight against his chest. He rubbed the length of her forefinger as she tried not to move hers, but the warmth of his fingertips on the back of her hand, along the sides, and between her fingers in an intimate linking was making her ears buzz. She even had to tolerate a knowing smile from her brother, and his wiggling eyebrows. She gladly parted company with Luke and took her position at the end of the line of bridesmaids.

Thank goodness they didn’t have to do that again. The rehearsal was declared a success and everyone retired to the kitchen to eat.

She scrutinized Stephanie carefully, probably looking for some evidence she wasn’t really Luke’s sister, which she already knew was ridiculous. Julie could see the family resemblance. Stephanie’s blue eyes were the same shade as Luke’s, her lips were full. She was pretty, and appeared to be having a good time.

Glancing around the room, she couldn’t find Luke and began to relax, thinking perhaps he had decided to leave early. He couldn’t have misunderstood her coldness. Perhaps he’d gotten the message, finally.

But no such luck. Her back stiffened when she heard him call out to her from behind. Though it wasn’t very smart, she turned around. No helpful distractions were within earshot, unless she yelled.

“I’ve thought hundreds of times about what I’d say to you if we met someplace. All the things I rehearsed have just gone out of my mind. Completely vanished.” He pressed his fingers against his forehead.

She didn’t want to drink in the cool blue liquid of his gaze, but she couldn’t help it, finishing it off with a quick glance to his lips that caught his attention. His nostrils flared and his breathing deepened. Within seconds, their breathing was in tandem that magical the chemistry enveloped them both.

She saw movement at her waist and saw one hand begin to rise.

She immediately took a step back.

“Don’t,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Julie. I really am.”

“Good.” She whirled away and marched back into the kitchen to join other partygoers.

Julie didn’t have any trouble avoiding his gaze the rest of the evening. Luke seemed to disappear. And then she was told he had left.

Thank God.

She poured herself a big glass of red wine and sank into the family room couch. She listened to the happy banter of the bride and her girlfriends. She watched her brother joke with a couple of his groomsmen. Her parents danced to something on the radio. The caterers were busy clearing the kitchen.

And Julie wasn’t here at all. She was back in San Diego on the beach, replaying everything that had happened with Luke.

How could something that felt so right be so wrong?

Chapter Eight

‡

Luke went straight to the motel and crashed. Up until tonight, he’d been sleeping well without the medication. Tonight, he wasn’t so sure he could.

He knew it would be a mistake to watch TV. Something would snag him, and then he’d be off in that loop in his brain, like a hamster in its wheel. Of all the messed-up situations. He was now going to be family with the woman he’d had a truly momentous one-night stand with. It had been a beautiful evening and morning after, until his past had overwhelmed him. He knew he was damaged goods. It would have been better for her if they’d never met again.

But that was impossible now. The marriage of his sister and her made meeting Julia unavoidable. It was selfish on his part, but he was angry with his sister and her brother. Angry about their love. Angry about their normal future.

Not that he blamed them, actually. He’d made different choices with his life, and because of his choices, he was forever altered in a totally fucked-up and negative way.

He could never have what Stephanie and Colin had. He knew how much work it would be for a woman to create some kind of normal life with him, and it was dangerous. In trying to save him, it could well cost another woman her life.

Julie had been such a sweet thing. That’s why it felt so bad, knowing he had hurt her. She’d lovingly kissed his scars and tats, given herself to him with a full and open heart, unafraid.

I don’t do uncomplicated.

No, she wouldn’t understand the complicated jumble that was his brain, otherwise she wouldn’t say such a thing. If she only knew.

I want to be sorely missed when I’m gone.

That was the thing, though, wasn’t it? Falling in love meant losing someone when they didn’t come back. That wasn’t the way to treat another human being, though. Much better to keep them from waiting at all, from ever knowing him. That would be kinder.

Except it was too late for that now. He knew her, all right. He knew her little mewling sounds, the way her body yearned for him, her pure heart. Though he’d known it was wrong, he couldn’t help but give her that. He’d wanted, for just one night, to live the fantasy of being someone’s hero—to be her hero. That guy who could rock that sweet woman’s world and give more than he would take. It was almost like a little piece of bright crystal had broken off her and had lodged inside him somewhere. Some little piece of good that was her spirit.

Though emotionally injured, he wanted to be the warrior who was worthy of the medals he wore, still worthy of the Trident he’d earned. Be that man who could feel emotions without having to cover them up under a hundred pounds of equipment. Who didn’t have to dive from a plane at midnight just to feel fully alive, to be present without the risk of death to define his boundaries.

He fell into a deep sleep.

The woman in red came to him, finding her way under the covers, stretching out against him, her face hovering just above his. He was aware that she was a dream, because he didn’t feel her so much as sense her, see her. She gave him that look that said she wanted to be taken. But as he lifted his mouth to hers in his dream, her lips were not there. Her iridescent body called to him, just as her lips had, but he could not touch her. He could hear her, but couldn’t hear the sound of his own voice. He heard the steady pulsing of her heartbeat and her breath pushing in and out of her lungs as if she was inside him. Their hearts beat in unison.

Luke, the lady whispered. I’m waiting for you, Luke. Her voice faded as he watched the ambulance take her beautiful, warm body to some eternal resting spot. Where she wouldn’t laugh or cry, or hear the sound of her own child being born. He’d done that. He’d taken all that away from her. He’d taken it from himself, too.

Luke. I’m waiting.

He was just about to follow her, figuring he’d better hurry, when he woke up.

His body was heaving like he’d been running, and he was short of breath. He’d fallen asleep in his clothes, which were so soaked they dampened the sheets as well. The front of his blue shirt was stuck tight against his chest by his clammy T-shirt.

He sat up to listen. He’d heard breathing. Or was it the ocean? He’d seen her slip under the sheets, but he was above the sheets in his tiny motel room.

He lay back into the white cotton pillows, staring through the blackness toward the ceiling he couldn’t see, and tears rolled from the outside corners of his eyes and onto the pillowcase. The torment and pain of knowing he was not whole scared him. Rolling to the side, he brought his knees to his chest. He buried his face in the cotton pillowcase, bringing one arm over his ears to block any sounds of her breathing or her heartbeat. If she called his name he didn’t want to hear it.

He began to cry in the dark and all alone, hoping that soon sleep would come and give him peace.

Chapter Nine

‡

Julie got a call on her cell from a number she didn’t recognize. It was a San Diego area code, so she figured it was one of Stephanie’s friends.

It was Luke.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

Part of her wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she heard something in his voice that alerted her concern. “I don’t mind. Are you all right, Luke?”

He paused for a few seconds. She heard traffic in the background on his end of the line. He was outside somewhere, or near an open window.

“No.” He cleared his throat and, into the silence he asked, “Are you still there?”

“Yes, Luke. I’m here.”

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior—”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Over at Aroma Roasters.”

She looked at her bedside clock. It was nearly seven thirty. “You want some company?”

“Not sure that’s a very good idea, Julie.”

“Then why did you call me?”

“To apologize. I thought since we were going to be family from now on, we should bury the hatchet.”

“Which hatchet? The one between my shoulder blades or the one between yours?”

“Funny.”

She heard his breathing; it was a little raspy, like he was shaking between breaths. The smooth, confident sailor she’d been with that magic night had turned into a teenage boy, she thought.

“Why don’t you give me a few minutes, and I’ll come over and we can have breakfast.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I said what I had to say.”

“So you don’t want to have breakfast with me?”

“Julie, talking to you is…hard. This is me, apologizing.”

“Yes, and you haven’t answered my question yet, Luke.”

After a brief pause he said, “Yes, I would like to have breakfast with you.”

“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

Julie scrambled to the shower. She washed her hair and shaved everything she could. She put on a black panties and bra set. Slipped her legs into her straight-legged jeans that were perhaps just a little too small. Put on a white cotton long-sleeved T-shirt. She checked to be sure she could see the black bra through the cotton fabric.

Perfect.

She bunched her hair into a crystal-studded clip, applied a little pressed powder and fresh, red-cherry lip gloss. She added a little color to her cheeks and applied mascara and some pearl white eyelid powder. Last she walked through the spritzer of cologne.

And then she took a good look in the mirror.

“What are you doing, Julie?”

The face stared back at her, looking perky and bubbly. Her lipstick was too red. Her blush a little too deep pink. The shadow of her black bra too obvious. She’d put on too much perfume.

She removed the hair clip, wiped off the blush with a damp washcloth, dabbed off some of the perfume and changed her shirt to a black one. She kept her jeans. She brushed her hair down smooth, tucked it behind her ears, and left it plain.

Aroma Roasters smelled wonderful and fresh. The place was packed with people sipping espressos at small tiled tables, or bellying up on stools at the hammered copper counter that overlooked the street. The scream of the machines punctuated the air. Taking a deep breath, she searched the room from right to left and spotted him in a shadowed corner. His chin rested against his fist, propped up by his elbow resting on the tabletop.

He was watching her but didn’t get up until she began to walk in his direction. She knew that if she’d missed him somehow, he would have stayed seated and just let her go. Something in her heart ached over the man’s coldness.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“Just a cappuccino.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said stiffly. She watched several women eye him appreciatively and give her a close inspection. He waited in line, got two cappuccinos, and then returned to the table.

She folded one forearm over the other as she watched him take a sip of the hot coffee, leaving a little foamed milk on his upper lip that he licked away with that rough tongue that had done things to her body. She found it difficult to be angry with him, but decided not to open the conversation, instead to just watch and see where it led on its own.

He frowned and linked his fingers together on the tabletop. “Julie, I want to explain a couple of things to you. It was suggested that I call you to apologize, and maybe give you a little explanation of what’s been going on with me.”

“Fair enough,” she tried to look and sound neutral. She reminded herself she had that disclosure statement tucked away somewhere in her mind, so she could prove to herself she’d been properly warned in case something happened that turned out to be painful.

He licked his lips, and then bit down on a small corner, turning his head to study the street outside. When he directed his gaze back to her, the blue eyes bathed her body in tingles, warming her insides. Unlike before, when she’d been sitting this close to him in the restaurant the morning when everything fell apart, this time she could see his eyes were filled with things he didn’t want to say.

“Julie, almost two years ago now, I was engaged.” He twisted an imaginary ring around his fourth finger.

She’d heard “was engaged” and relaxed. It was, after all, in the past.

“I’d gotten her pregnant. I was going to do the right thing and marry her.” His eye blinked several times. “We sent down to visit her parents in Florida to tell them the news.”

She braced herself for something she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like. Is there a love child, Luke?

He started tracing the rim of the white mug with his forefinger. The dusting of dark hair on the backs of his hands looked so sexy as she tracked it with her eyes until it disappeared under the cuff of his blue shirt. Again he looked away before turning back to focus on her face, eyes gently dropping to her lips this time, and then honestly returning hers.

“I loved her, Julie. I hadn’t planned to get married, but I loved her, and I wanted to be the man she expected me to be.”

“Okay. So far so good.” Julie had the urge to take one of his hands in hers, but resisted the temptation.

He took in a deep breath and then let it out. “I’d had a difficult time overseas, and was considering perhaps not re-upping this next cycle. So, I thought maybe this was a sign I should consider getting out of the Teams to do something ancillary, perhaps go private, stateside.”

Julie nodded, and waited.

“So we went down to see her folks, to tell them we’d decided to get married. We didn’t tell them about the baby yet. Perhaps we should have.” He sat back and looped his thumbs into his jeans belt loops. “I hadn’t been sleeping very well. I guess I was tired. I fell asleep and—” he swallowed, his chin down, hanging his head. After he dropped his eyes, he whispered, “I crashed the car and she was killed.”

Julie found it difficult to look him in the eyes, but she did anyway. “That could have happened to anyone.”

“But it happened to me.” He whispered, “And to her.”

Julie leaned forward and touched his hand. “And it wasn’t your fault. Don’t you see that?”

“I had no business being behind the wheel with my lack of sleep. I wasn’t careful, and I misjudged my reaction time. I should have known it.”

“You made an honest mistake, Luke. Ask me how many times I’ve fallen asleep on trips from San Diego to visit my parents here. I can think of half a dozen times when I was too tired, shouldn’t have been driving, and was just lucky nothing happened.”

He nodded, looking thoughtful.

“Why do I get that there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere?” she ventured.

“With Stephanie in San Diego, I decided to transfer to one of the west coast teams. I thought it would be a fresh start.”

Her heart ached for him, for the torment he bore so bravely.

“And it worked, in a way. I worked up with Team 3, I went overseas with the group. Two days before we were to come home, I was catching some quick Z’s—just long enough for the young Marine who was covering for me get hit with a round. He died in my arms.”

“Thank goodness you were there to hold him,” she said. She could tell her comment startled Luke.

“No, he died because of me. Just like—just like Camilla.”

Julie then placed her palm over his. “You didn’t kill either one of them, Luke. They made decisions, too, that contributed to what happened. It’s nobody’s fault.”

He stared down at her fingers as they rubbed his.

“I remember this,” he whispered.

Oh, God. She did too. The feel of him under her hands. The feel of his hands on her. The importance of that touch to a starving soul. He had taken on the burdens of the whole world and held himself responsible for them.

Tears silently ran down his cheeks as he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed the tips. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Julie. I—well, you remind me of her.”

He didn’t let go of her hand. “I thought I should just leave. Would be better for you if I just left. So I did.”

She extended her arm further and brushed the side of his cheek with the back of her hand. “Except it hurt. It hurt real bad, Luke. You see, I didn’t want you to go.”

He brought his other hand on top of their entwined fingers.

She thought about it for a second, doing a quick gut check. Was she up to this? Although she knew it wasn’t wise, she decided she was. “And I still don’t.”

Chapter Ten

‡

They walked in the early morning sunlight to where he’d parked his car. She recognized the feel of the tan leather, and the smell of it mixed with his own personal scent, as he helped her inside. Time stood still as she watched him walk in front of her and then open the driver-side door to take his place behind the wheel.

He hadn’t asked her to come with him to his room at the large hotel downtown, but she knew that’s where he was taking her.

He held her hand possessively as they walked over the carpeted hallway to the upstairs room, where he inserted his key card, and escorted her inside.

She knew there were no easy answers for Luke’s struggles, and she’d need resources she didn’t have in order to be able to help him find the right direction. Julie also knew she couldn’t walk the path for him, that it was a journey he would have to take, feel comfortable taking, alone. There was no way she could take away the pain or share his burden, not matter how hard she might grow to want to in time.

But she could make sure that he felt loved. Was that what she felt right now? Probably not. They barely knew each other, even though, because of their intense passion for each other, they’d shared a level of intimacy she’d not felt before. But it was too soon to call it love. And it would be unhealthy for her to do so, regardless of whether it was good for him.

Her students this year had been an especially bright and creative bunch. Unruly on many days, as seemed to be happening more frequently. Or maybe she was learning to be more patient with them, letting them explore more and spend less time focused on strict obedience of the rules.

She could almost see in Luke some of the same things she occasionally saw in those scared little faces when were frustrated, trying to learn a new concept, or pushing to find out where their boundaries lay. Her job in the classroom was to ignite and stimulate their curiosity and not turn them off to a life of learning, exploration. First she had to earn their trust, and then they’d follow. She’d learned early on that she couldn’t force a lesson plan on them, just as she couldn’t force compliance. They had to want to be good students.

The hotel room was dark, even though it was morning and there was not a cloud in the sky. The drapes were closed, and he did not turn on the lights.

She swallowed hard. A trickle of fear traveled down her spine, as she faced the fact that this might be unwise. The promise of great sex was in the air. She could easily fall right back into where they’d been before, in her own words, “entangled” between the sheets. But that would mean ignoring the huge red flags surrounding him. He’d already told her of a tortured past. Now she began to worry that perhaps he wasn’t being totally truthful with her.

Were his tears intended to snag her heart, make her do something that was unsafe and unwise?

Images of her former boyfriend, Dan, flashed in front of her eyes. He was a young Navy recruit she’d met at a back-to-school night. He’d said he came with his niece, who was in another grade, a different class than Julie’s. Said he was filling in for his sister, who was out of town.

Why did men have to lie? She’d found out after several all-consuming nights with him that he was indeed married, and had a string of kids born outside his marriage all over the globe.

Was it happening again?

Luke sat on the bed and pulled her towards him.

“I’m not sure I can do this, Luke.”

His roaming hands stopped immediately and he stood, brushing her aside.

He began pacing back and forth at the end of the bed. She didn’t think he was faking some intense emotional turmoil.

“I’m sorry. This was my fault. Again.”

She felt sorry for the man whose chest was heaving, whose breathing was labored and who kept restlessly running his fingers through his hair.

“By accident I’ve learned a few things about you and your family,” she began. “But I’m still not getting any answers from you, Luke. What is this all about, then? You want sex, but you don’t want to talk? You want to take from me and you don’t want to give?”

She watched for signs he was getting angry. If any of that surfaced, she’d be gone in a heartbeat.

“Talk to me, Luke. Tell me something, so I don’t have to ask. That’s a good place to start.” She walked over to the drapes. “May I open these a little?”

“Sorry. Of course. I hadn’t noticed.” He quickly moved past her and began pulling the sides back, his arms grazing against her backside unintentionally. All the heat began pooling between her thighs again.

Damn.

Her ache for him was dulling her common sense.

What he did next made all the difference. Sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the light streaming in from the window, he patted his thigh. “Come here, Julie. Please. No reason to be afraid of me. I would never do anything, ever, to hurt you.”

She did as he asked. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her face to his chest, tucking her just under his chin. His hands didn’t roam. He held her quietly.

“Camilla was a teacher, just like you. In fact, she also taught elementary school.”

Julie arched back to examine his face.

“You remind me of her. I think that makes it even harder, for me at least.”

She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “Am I a substitute for someone you miss?”

He didn’t pull her towards him to try to convince her. “God, no, Julie. It just surprised me. All the guilt I felt at being the cause of the accident came flooding back to the surface, and I went immediately into shut-down mode.” He pressed his forehead against hers and took hold of her hands in one of his. “I’m in counseling now, and I’ve learned a few things. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to apologize.”

She smoothed his fingers, aware that their entanglement was deepening.

And she didn’t care.

“I was told not to expect that you’d forgive me. Or to hang my getting better on whether or not you wanted to have anything to do with me anymore.”

She placed her palms at his cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere, Luke. I’m right here.”

She’d forgotten how much she’d missed his kiss. When their lips met, it was so natural to open to him, let him taste her, feel his mouth claiming her and let their tongues mingle. When he groaned, she felt his need, his loneliness rise to the surface. She gave him back everything she could, kissing his eyes, his temples, fondling the hair at the nape of his neck.

“God, Luke. I never realized how much I’d missed you until right now.”

“Baby. Stay with me. Don’t go, sweetheart.”

“Yes.” There was nowhere else she could go. Her whole world was right here in this room with her.

He slid his fingers under her cotton shirt, squeezing her breast as she recalled her naughty black satin bra. He bit the side of her neck and she hissed, arching back, pressing herself against his torso. She kissed every button she unbuttoned down his chest, flicking his skin with the tip of her tongue, drinking of the salty, musky scent of him. She heard the vibration of his guttural response as her lips kissed his chest, as her tongue encircled his nipples and her teeth nipped at him gently.

She was breathless, starved for him. He rewarded her sighs by lifting her in his arms and laying her on the bed. He watched as she wiggled her way out of her jeans. He matched her by removing his, and then uncovering his massive torso. She watched his corded muscles move just under the surface of his tanned and scarred skin.

Fully bare to him, she let him gaze at her in the morning light. Her peach was dripping with anticipation. His beautiful body came to kneel over her. Then he gently pressed down his body, holding himself flat, like one long plank, touching her first with his cock at her belly button and then covering her warmly, as she lifted her knees and wrapped her legs around his waist.

She fully accepted his girth, riding him, moving her hips to his penetration, which started slow and deliberate, and then settled into a rhythm that began to ignite her insides. She felt how easily he slipped in and out of her wet channel. Arching backward, the back of her head rooted down into the pillow, she dropped her legs, pressed her heels to the bed and met him, shoving her pelvis onto his shaft as he plunged in relentlessly deep. The pre-orgasm drowning sensation, the feeling that she would never get enough of him, like she needed more air, started to overtake her as her internal muscles began to pulse and snap tight against him.

“Yes, baby. Sweetheart, fly away with me, baby.”

“Oh, God, Luke. I love this.”

“Yes, it’s good for me too, baby,” he whispered as he dove his face into the side of her neck and began to suck.

She felt like her bones were made of rubber. She merged all around him, rubbing his ass with her palms and then pulling him deeper. Crying out for him as her shattering rocketed throughout her body. She began to whimper, her self-control now fully gone. She felt pliable, putty in his arms, needing his hardness, needing to feel his muscular his shoulders, taste the sweat at the top of his breastbone. He was arching, groaning and she wanted to feel that groan in her mouth so she rose and begged, pressing her lips to his, and sucking his tongue deep.

The jerking of his cock deep inside her as her sensitive walls clasped him, encouraged him to spurt his seed, gave them delicious seconds of respite. The refreshing satisfaction of two bodies in perfect synch, both needing and serving up each other’s passion equally.

As he collapsed against her chest, she laced her fingertips over his back and butt cheeks, rewarded with an occasional jerk her touch stimulated in him. She loved the feel of this warrior’s body on top of her, in her, all around her. His strong arms held her as no other had ever done. The world felt like a magical, safe place again, as long as Luke was there with her.

Chapter Eleven

‡

Luke was deliciously tired from their lovemaking. Afterwards, as they were catching their breath, she didn’t stop the soft caresses at his back, and he found himself slipping into a pool of apricot light. He felt safe. Loved. He was grateful he’d had enough sense not to scare her away. He was also grateful he’d gotten a chance to make things a little more right with her, emotionally. Or at least he hoped that’s what had happened. In his current state, he wasn’t quite sure.

He told himself it wasn’t just because they were going to be family, it was because he’d known it was the right thing to do, even if she never wanted to have anything more to do with him after. He’d hated himself for how he’d treated her, and hoped she didn’t still feel he had taken more than he had given. It was worth the risk, and at the first sign of resistance, he planned to stop.

But she went with him to that place where there wasn’t any pain, where the future wasn’t a dreaded, dark place. Where everywhere around him the people he cared about hadn’t left him. She stayed, holding his hand for those few delicious moments.

He sank into a deep sleep in her arms.

He woke up refreshed, but alone in the bed. The sun had dipped lower, telling him it wasn’t early evening yet, but he’d spent the day sleeping, with the curtains open. That was a very hopeful sign.

“Julie?” he called out, not seeing her clothes on the floor. No sounds came from the closet or bathroom. “Julie, are you still here?”

There was no answer.

He fell backwards into the bed, worried he’d done something to set her off. Her scent was still in the sheets, but the place where her body had lain was cold. He missed her terribly.

He got up, searching the room, looking for evidence she had been there on the off chance this had all been a dream, like so many of the other dreams he’d been having lately. On the dresser, near the TV, he found a note.

Thank you for breakfast. Just had some things I needed to do for the wedding, and thought I’d give you some space. Try to get some rest.

He fingered the note, the swirling, perfect script of her cursive handwriting. It was nice of her to leave it for him, but it was also nice of her to give him some room. She’d not asked or said anything about getting together again, although it was certain they’d see each other before the wedding. But he liked that she didn’t cling to him. He knew he wasn’t a very good prospect for that, anyhow.

He called his LPO, Kyle Lansdowne, overdue to check in.

“You getting rest?” Kyle asked.

“Yes, even took a nap this morning.”

“Long night?”

“Actually not. We had the rehearsal and dinner last night at Stephanie’s in-laws. Nice people.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Actually feels kind of fuckin’ normal up here. I’m relaxing, Kyle.”

“Yeah, until you meet someone. Luke, you be real careful with your behavior, hear me? Maybe caution on the side of keepin’ it zipped?”

“I understand,” he said, not wanting to find out what Kyle would think of his breakfast date.

“And use this time to get some rest. Next workup, I want you in it, but I also want you whole.”

“Roger that.”

“Say hi to Stephanie for me,” Kyle said. Luke could hear their toddler, Brandon, in the background.

“You babysitting again, Kyle?”

“Fuckin’ A. Someone’s got to pay the bills.”

Christy was a successful realtor, and made far more money than her SEAL husband. But she also had a tendency to spend more than most the rest of the wives combined.

Luke showered and decided to stop in on a Navy recruiter, as was his custom when he traveled. Most of the men and women who worked there were more than happy to have an active duty SEAL for their young prospects to talk to, ask questions of. The office was sparsely populated. All the branches of service had offices in the same building. A pool table was in one of the big meeting rooms. A video was streaming in the corner, showing training tapes just above a table filled with recruiting information.

Luke watched a Navy SEAL video showing a boat crew barreling down a river somewhere, firing guns and soaking the surrounding riverbanks with twenty-foot plumes of water. The virtues of joining the Teams were being extolled between scenes of gunfire and water blasting. One segment read: Enjoy Wildlife. In the background, the SWCC boat crew was silent until a large sea bass leapt in front of the boat. The gunner in front shot it, causing it to fall into their boat. That clip always made Luke laugh.

He spent a few minutes talking with the recruiters there, and a couple of the boys who were inquiring about life in the military. He was always happy to talk to them, although the hero worship he saw in their eyes did make him a little uncomfortable. He never thought of himself as a very big deal. Especially not now.

Luke also knew that every man’s journey was his own. Every man’s pain was his own to deal with. But asking for help was the hardest part…and something they all had to do.

He agreed to do some physical training with a few of the young recruits later in the week, if something could be arranged in time.

He called Nick Dunn, who he had befriended during their last tour together with SEAL Team 3. Nick was building a house on a little ten-acre patch in the middle of a valley floor surrounded by vineyards. There’d be another wedding sometime later in the year, when the house was finished. Nick and Devon wanted to be married in the gardens his sister, Sophie, had started several years before she had passed on.

“Holy shit, I didn’t believe it when Kyle told me you might be up this way.”

“I’m here, all right. Can I come see what you’re doing?”

“You are most certainly welcome. I’ll even let you use my hammer,” Nick said. “You got old clothes that can get dirty, or are you fixin’ for a hot date?”

“I’m good with the getting dirty. And the girl might be okay with me dirty. But I got no plans right now,” Luke felt a pang of regret that he didn’t have plans, but knew it was best for the two of them to have some space. In fact, he was grateful that Julie wasn’t all over his phone, texting and calling. It made it a lot easier to relax until he could figure out what was best for both of them.

Luke drove out Bennett Valley Road, enjoying the vineyards flipping by like cards being shuffled. The leaves were lush and green, some of the dark fruit hanging visible in their shade. He’d always wanted to spend time in the wine country. Something about it made him feel at home.

He turned left onto a gravel driveway. Nearly a half mile later, he could see a beautiful, contemporary home taking form. The structure rose from the ground like a giant, wooden crystal. The lines of the house extended in several directions, with large second story windows overlooking the vineyards and tops of golden hills surrounding the valley floor. The roof was made of a dark green metal like he’d seen in snow country. The outside was still papered in white construction membrane.

Nick greeted him, shirtless and tanned. Luke thought he looked good. He’d have to say happy. He knew what a rough tour Nick had as well, and that he was sitting out the next rotation, just as Luke had considered.

“Great to see you, man.” Nick said as he completed their man-hug and backslapping.

“You, too. Look at this place,” Luke said as he whistled, examining the unusual two-story structure.

A dark-haired beauty in jeans walked outside, removing her pink gloves, dirt smudged on her cheeks she wore a white T-shirt so big that it fell off one shoulder. With a commanding voice, she extended her hand to him. “Hi, I’m Devon. Welcome.”

Luke noticed how quickly Devon wrapped her arms around Nick’s waist and let him pull her close. He was pleased to see his former teammate so happy and settled. It was one of the things he wanted to discuss with his buddy, if time permitted.

“So, show me around,” Luke said.

“Well, this was my sister’s nursery.” Nick’s jaw flickered, like he was gritting his teeth. It had only been a few months since his sister’s death. “Sucked as a nursery, but she sure as hell got the location right.”

Luke examined the golden oak tree-studded hills, the gentle breeze blowing over the tops of the grape vines over the fence, making a whirring sound he found very peaceful. Rock walls bordered a rose garden and a vegetable garden. Sunlight flooded from the sky as it retreated for its nightly rest behind the golden hills.

Luke walked into a huge great room two stories tall. The light inside the house was warm, coming from more than thirty windows. He walked on a polished concrete floor that looked like granite. Everywhere he looked there was an eclectic blend of furniture, including pieces from India and Africa, as well as carpeting from the Middle East. The place was ablaze in color.

“This is incredible!” Luke said, stunned at the imaginative display. “I’ve never been in a house that felt so much like a place of worship.” He noticed how his voice echoed against the windows, the flooring and large pieces of furniture.

“Yeah, it really is a special place,” Nick answered. “Sophie would have loved it.”

“I think she still does,” Devon said with a whisper to the ceiling. “I think she still comes here and watches us transform this house into the showplace she always wanted.”

Devon and Nick shared a moment between them, followed by a chaste kiss. Nick nodded as he rubbed his thumb over Devon’s lower lip. He turned to Luke. “I’m really happy here. Not sure I want to go back.”

Luke understood this. Devon slipped away to the kitchen.

“Been thinking the same thing, Nick. I’ve got some demons, and they’re keeping me up at night. I have trouble focusing.”

“Yup.” Nick pointed to a black leather couch covered in several quilts, where Luke took a seat.

“So, you’re getting some help?”

Luke nodded. “It’s the sleep, mainly. It’s better, but I still have trouble with that. I know that’s no good.”

“I sleep like a baby now. Of course, I have to let them know my plans in the next sixty days. And right now,” he looked over at Devon, “I’m not sure what it’ll be. Devon makes good money as a realtor. I’m sure I could get work up here, maybe do something medical.”

“I’ve thought the same thing. Don’t you worry you’d miss it?”

“Yes, I do. It was the only thing I wanted to do for so long. Not sure I’d be good at much else, you know?” Luke felt Nick’s eyes bore into him, as if Luke had the answer to his buddy’s question.

“I keep asking myself if I should get out before things get really bad, or if I can get patched up to go back out there in the arena. Our work isn’t done, you know.”

“Roger that,” Nick said nodding. “They need us now more than ever.”

“Then I guess I better quit complaining and get myself healed, right?” Luke smiled and was grateful Nick took the joke.

“You got someone good you can hold onto?”

Luke hesitated. “Not sure,” he whispered to the ground.

“Okay, I got beers. You’re staying for dinner, hear?” Devon handed Luke a long-neck microbrew, then handed one to Nick, sealing it with a kiss before heading off to the kitchen before anyone could object.

“The boss has spoken. I’ve seen her angry, and man, you do not want to get her within a hundred yards of a baseball bat when she’s angry,” Nick said chuckling.

“I heard about that bat incident.”

“Shit,” Nick said as he shook his head. “I’m just glad the police got there in time.”

Devon had stopped Nick from murdering the man who had murdered his sister, by the simple expedient of threatening to bash his head in with a baseball bat. It had been the sole topic of discussion for months among Team members.

“I note that you’re avoiding my question,” Nick stated.

“I have a lady I’ve met. Shoot, Nick, I’ve only known her a little longer than thirty days. But she’s the younger sister to the guy Stephanie is marrying. We’re actually going to be family, know what I mean?”

“Like kissing cousins.”

“I’m afraid it’s gone a little further than that.”

Nick sat back on the couch and took another long drag on his beer. “And?”

“I’m not sure I have anything to give her, in my current mental state, Nick. I don’t want to cause her any pain.”

“Since when is falling in love painless?”

They both laughed.

Nick started slowly. “Well, I’m going to tell you what my sister told Devon. She said to give me a chance to show her my decent side. Just give me a chance.”

Both men looked down at their feet.

“You let her decide whether it’s right for her, but you take the chance if she’s giving it to you. Take the chance, Luke. Don’t force it, just let it happen. If she wants to give you a shot, then you just let her do it.” He flashed Luke that green-eyed smile he was famous for. “Besides, Luke. You do know that the woman always chooses, don’t you?”

Luke was puzzled.

Nick continued, “Oh yeah, we think we’re in control. But it’s the woman who decides on us, not the other way around. Didn’t your mama ever tell you that?”

Chapter Twelve

‡

Julie really didn’t have a million errands to run, but she wanted to stay away from Luke, just to see if he’d take the initiative and contact her. She thought he would, but she wasn’t going to pin her hopes on it, just in case.

She’d gotten her heart broken before with a soldier she thought was available to give her everything he had, but had been mistaken. And, looking back on it, she could see she should have known his actions didn’t quite live up to his words. She had been so in love with being in love, she didn’t look too carefully at what was beneath the surface.

She wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time. Though she longed to pick up her phone and text or call him, she was going to resist the temptation. She’d go to the wedding, even if he never called her back, and try to put her blood spatter apron on and deal with it, deal with being in close proximity. She wasn’t going to let him think it affected her in the slightest.

But inside, the slow rolling burn in her belly, the way she craved his kisses and caresses, the voice rumbling in his chest as he pressed himself against her, those were things she already missed so badly she felt almost hollow. And she knew that wasn’t good enough. She’d be excising him with a dull knife, but she could do it. She’d done it before and she could do it again. She just wished she could will herself not to fall for him. But she already had.

Julie wondered why she had such a strong reaction to the loving arms he gave her. Was there a need to protect him, to take care of him, or was it something else, something that wasn’t healthy? She’d heard about co-dependency. Was she doing that? Was she imagining things that didn’t exist? Was he merely a fantasy guy?

So that’s the steel resolve she’d work on this week. She’d occupy herself with everything else she needed to do for the wedding. Help her parents care for houseguests, and the relatives from Germany and Norway who would arrive tomorrow. Time enough for Luke later on.

She laughed at what she’d told him that night a month ago. “I like entangled.” Yes, that was the truth.

But, in this case, was that what he needed? It was more than getting him to want to be with her, he’d already told her that. It was whether or not it was an honest, equal relationship. She didn’t want a hookup. She didn’t want to play house or erotic lovers. Being someone’s fuck puppet wasn’t her idea of fun. She’d never been that way. She was out for the real thing. Dared she hope this could be it? Was this guy too damaged, or was her need to save him clouding her vision?

She shook her head and spent the afternoon going over lists of To Do items at her mother’s house.

“You’ve been kind of quiet today, Julie. Everything all right?” Her mother had radar that could spot an earthquake a year in advance.

“You know how it is, Mom. End of school. Everything is rushed to get the grades posted, get the room packed down.” She didn’t want to mention the problem parents. Every year there were problem parents, but not to this level. It had to remain a secret or her mom would start digging until she wiggled it out of her.

“Right. I remember those days.” Her mom had been a teacher as well.

Her mother prepared another green tea for both of them and then sat down again. “Colin’s friend is nice,” she said, looking over her mug at her daughter.

She knew exactly who her mother meant. But she decided to play dumb.

“Which one?”

“You know, the one with the big chest,” her mother smiled and looked down at her tea demurely. “The one you couldn’t stop looking at all night last night.”

They stared into each other’s eyes. Her mother didn’t flinch, but her sweet smile was warming and non-judgmental. The unspoken suggestion that a man like that would be able to protect and take care of her hit Julie like a furnace blast. In addition to having great intuition, her mother was rarely as subtle as she thought she was.

“I’m guessing you and Dad have also talked about this,” Julie said as she sipped her tea.

“Oh, dear, your dad loves war heroes. He said that, in addition to being very handsome, the young man is extremely intelligent.”

Julie decided to prepare them for a less-than-perfect outcome, to be realistic. “Mom, he’s not ready to settle down, and frankly, neither am I.”

“But how convenient you both live in San Diego, where you could see each other occasionally,” her mother persisted.

“Well—” She was going to lie to her mother and then thought better about it. “Of course, we might run into one another.”

That was putting it mildly. They’d run into each other, all right, and the sparks were still flying. She closed her eyes as she sipped her tea. She felt her mother watching her with the unerring eye of an experienced police detective.

Julie didn’t care.

On the way home, Julie got the call she’d been wishing for all day.

“Hi there, Luke. You get some rest?”

“I did, as a matter of fact.”

“Good.”

Julie squeezed the steering wheel and turned up the car speaker volume. She could hear his heavy breathing and some music in the background. She guessed he was calling from a restaurant or bar.

“I just called to say thank you for this morning. It was very nice.”

“You’re welcome.” She was careful not to put anything in there she’d regret later, in case this was the call that could go quickly the other direction from what she was hoping.

“I slept really hard, even with the drapes open.”

“Wow. I can’t do that,” Julie answered truthfully.

“I was wondering if you’d be open to having coffee with me?”

“Coffee?”

“Um hum.” He said.

“Like breakfast this morning?”

His chesty grumble was sexy as hell. “Something like that,” he whispered so softly that her spine tingled.

“I’m on my way to my temporary home-away-from-home. I can make you some coffee there, if you like.”

“I’d like.”

She gave him the address of the cottage. “Behind the main house, just drive past the open iron gate. You can park up front since the owners are out of the country, and I have barely enough room for my car.”

When she drove up the gravel driveway, Luke’s Mustang was already outside the main house garage. He was leaning against the car, legs crossed at the ankles, his blue jeans generously endowed in the front, emphasizing his package. His thighs were easily the size of her waist but the physique under the tucked-in black tee shirt stretched tight across his chest made her panties wet.

And now she could see him following her car in the rear view mirror, just like she was honey and he was the bee. She stopped the car and turned off the ignition. The confident trajectory as he came toward her was making her pant with anticipation.

The niggling worries racing around her head were instantly silenced when he hauled her up out of the car, threw his arms around her waist, brought her tight against his abdomen, and covered her mouth with his. He was as dangerously delicious as he had been that very first night, and perhaps more so now that she knew what those muscles, those hands and those hips could dish out.

“I wasn’t sure this was going to be okay with you,” he whispered.

She leaned back, staring at the big, green third eye between his bushy eyebrows. “I’m making you coffee. What did you think?” She tried not to smile but couldn’t help it. He lifted her up by the waist as she threw her arms around his neck, wrapped her thighs around his hips and let him carry her to the front door.

“I’ve been thinking about all the things I’ve wanted to do with you the last thirty days. Just not sure where to start.”

She felt his hot lips on her neck as she threw her head back and savored his hunger. Yes, she needed this. Even if it the timing was wrong, she needed this tonight, just like she’d needed it on the beach that night, and this morning. It wasn’t the sex as much as his strength. He wasn’t afraid to claim what he wanted, show her what he wanted, unlike some of the metrosexual males she’d dated and endured fastidious movies or dinners with. This guy was all muscle, all about getting to the bottom, the basics of things, who fucked like it was the last day on earth and liked taking and then asking for forgiveness afterwards. She’d known guys like Luke were out there, she just had never met one until that night.

And here he was again, asking for more.

Their kisses were urgent and deep. She sucked at his tongue, needing everything he had inside her, filling her to capacity. He tasted salty and musky, but there was something fresh and exciting about him, like the taste of his mouth on hers would cause her to crave him more, the more she kissed him.

He was serious sexual candy of the yummy, dangerous kind. When he groaned into her ear and whispered her name, “Julie, Julie, Julie,” she came completely undone. Bones to rubber, flesh upon tingling flesh, his sexy rumble as he penetrated deep inside her mouth, invading her there like a conquering army.

She slithered down his torso to unlock the door and walked backwards, watching the delicious creature facing her come stalking toward her in the moonlight. She was through with being careful, appropriate and considerate. She wanted to be loved by someone who was used to loving hard. Loving possessed. Claiming every cell in her body.

He allowed her to stay just out of arm’s reach while she removed layers of her clothes, until she stood next to the double bed with nothing on but her underwear. He didn’t touch her, but gazed, looking at the spot between her legs as if it belonged to him, licking his lips and examining her breasts and her lips as he slid his pants down and tore off his tee shirt. His chest was heaving. The dark stubble on his face framed lips that mated in a thin line as he licked them again, and smiled.

“Coffee?” she asked, feeling a bit naughty.

“Later. Much later,” he growled.

The next instant he was on his knees, pulling the panties to the side urgently, whispering his approval as his mouth found her sex and swiped his, hot sandpaper tongue over her sensitive lips, pressing onto her nub. He sucked as she felt her body respond to his kiss, his pull at her puckered core, plump and ripe from the lovemaking of earlier this morning. Her need and ache were such that she grabbed his shoulders and then ran her nails down his back. He deftly placed his palm under her knee and lifted one leg up over his shoulder and lunged into her deeper, which sent her backward, falling into the bed.

She laughed at his play. He climbed on top of her, holding himself with his massive arms in a straight, full-body pushup without touching her anywhere. But there was no mistaking the feel of his heat radiating down, covering her quivering nakedness.

“You like things a little rough, Julie?” he asked, holding himself back.

“I don’t know.” She didn’t, either. Her former dates and boyfriends were like wobbly-kneed boys on a basketball team, afraid of their own shadow. “What did you have in mind?”

“Can I tie you up?” He was watching her to be sure there was enough of a green light to go forward.

“Would you stop if I said no?”

All of a sudden he flinched in pain, whirled off her body and sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her.

What did I say?

Into his hands he said, “I’m not ready for this.” He got up and started dressing, eyes averted.

“Luke. Wait a minute.”

“No, Julie. This won’t work. I’m not ready for this. I cannot be trusted.”

She ran around to face him as he bent over to slip on his pants. Instinct told her it was best not to touch him or get too close. She could feel the boiling of something dark and oily inside him, something caged he was trying not to release.

The look he gave her shafted her heart with a javelin. His eyes squinted like they were standing in a sunny room—too sunny. But his jaw was tense. His soft, full lips were creased into a thin line and his breathing hitched. He held the tops of his jeans tight-fisted as he pulled them up quickly and slipped the black tee shirt over his head.

Julie knew she shouldn’t stop him. She knew that it wasn’t sex, or even compassion he wanted tonight.

It was distance.

Chapter Thirteen

‡

Luke wasn’t as careful as he should have been as he exited the gravel driveway and headed out onto Warm Springs Road. He nearly collided with an SUV full of soccer players and a very scared mom behind the wheel. Her panic, splashed across him as his headlights lit them up, spurred him to overcorrect, nearly landing him in the ditch on the other side. But the soccer kids and their driver were safe.

Smoke billowed from under the hood of his Mustang, until he recognized the smell of burning rubber from his tires. The soccer mom was well on her way out of the area, honking a couple of times. He was sorry he’d nearly scared the poor woman to death.

I’ve almost lost it.

He was grateful he’d only had one beer at Nick’s house. Didn’t stay for the ice cream because—because—

Because I wanted to fuck Julie senseless. He’d been so fixated on her that it had been the only thing on his mind when he’d left Nick’s place.

He was suddenly out of options. And he knew he couldn’t be alone.

He dialed Nick.

“Oh, good, you decided to join us for ice cream after all,” Nick said.

At first Luke just tried to restore his breathing.

“Luke. You all right?”

“No.”

“Talk to me. Better yet, get your butt over here.”

“Okay.”

“But I gotta ask you, first. You packin’?”

“No.”

“I’m searching you before you step into my house, hear?”

“I deserve that.”

True to his word, Nick did a quick frisk to check for weapons before he unlocked his front door and let Luke inside. There had been an unfortunate incident last year where someone came home and shot up a Team guy’s family, and ever since then they’d been required to take protective action. Luke didn’t see a vest underneath Nick’s shirt, but he wasn’t sure.

“Your keys.” Nick held out his hand.

“I’m not giving you my fuckin’ keys.”

“Then you go outside and kill yourself for all I care. Now quit messin’ with me and give me your God. Damned. Keys.”

Luke surrendered his keychain.

“So what happened?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just a mess.”

“Alcohol or coffee?” Nick said as he walked to the kitchen. “You choose. But you’re not leaving here tonight, or if you do, you walk, understood?”

“Not coffee. I need to settle down.”

Nick pulled out four long-necked beers from the refrigerator, brought them over to the couch placing two on the glass table in front of Luke and two in front of his spot next to Luke.

“So what happened, Luke? You went to see the girl…and?”

“And I got spooked.”

“Fuck sake, Luke. Now you’re pissing me off,” Nick said as he took a deep swig.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop. I wanted her, hard.”

Nick was pensive. “I feel you.”

“It was too hard.”

“So you pulled away because you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself from hurting her? Is that what you’re sayin?”

Luke shrugged. The beer tasted good. He could almost feel the tissues in his stomach absorbing the alcohol. He was suddenly filled with unspeakable sadness. He looked away.

“It’s the thing, Luke, not you. You’re going to have to work on it. I can see it in your face, the way you hold yourself, man. You got those peaks and valleys, the highs and then those awful lows. You have to form a practice to take care of it. And you’re not gonna want to do it, man. But it’s just like PT. Hell, it’s just like the BUD/S training. You don’t just fuckin’ stand there in your shorts and expect they’ll award you the Trident.”

Luke had never thought about it that way. Nick was making some sense.

“You’re gonna have to train yourself back to some place—I can’t call it normal, because there’s no fuckin’ normal out there. Just some place where you’ll feel you can trust yourself again. And only then is when you can trust someone else.”

Luke did feel glimpses of what his life used to be like, and what it could be like again. Without all the dreams. Without the mood swings. And he didn’t want to be coping with life using a jar full of pills, either.

“You gotta want to get well more than anything else in the world,” Nick said. “And you gotta stop trying to control it and just let it be. Quit dissing yourself for not being better. You’re wounded.”

Luke didn’t like hearing that at all.

Nick picked up on it. “Yeah, you don’t care for that label. Well, it’s not like you lost a leg or an arm or something. Part of your soul leaked out, and you’re gonna have to learn how to compensate.”

Luke must have given him a puzzled look.

“You’ll need help with that. Counseling. No shame in getting help. Just like in our training, no one gets through on his own. This is no different. Honest. I mean on my own, I was one sorry sonofabitch. I was headed nowhere, man.”

He and Nick talked until two in the morning. They ran out of beer after the second six-pack was consumed, but Nick forbid them going to the store for more. The point wasn’t to get drunk, either, so they didn’t open wine or get into Nick’s special stash of bourbon.

“Just means it’s time to go to bed,” Nick said.

He showed Luke to the downstairs bedroom, which had a fireplace and private bath. He got the fire started and then threw a towel at him. “Wash up before you sleep on my wife’s expensive sheets, okay?”

They embraced briefly. Nick eyed him suspiciously. “You going to be all right? I’m not going to have to do anything heroic tonight, am I? I’m tired as hell.”

“Thanks, man. Appreciate this.”

“And you sleep in tomorrow. Sleep is good for you. Got your pills?”

“Nah, I’m not going to need them. I’ll take a shower and just crash.”

“And no fuckin’ leaving until the morning, after breakfast, right?”

“Right.”

Luke stripped off his clothes for the second time tonight. He couldn’t help but remember what it had felt like to see Julie’s naked body beneath him as she anticipated a beautiful lovemaking session. He loved watching her need him. That’s what he saw there. And he wanted in the worst way to fill that need, scratch that itch. Just that it wasn’t right. It would have felt as good as heaven, but that still didn’t make it right.

He let the warm water sluice over his body. He lathered up with some lemon shower gel and then enveloped himself in the fluffy towel sheet that reminded him of how Julie would smell. Wrapping it around his waist, he walked barefoot into the bedroom.

A sea of pillows covered half the bed. He carefully stacked them onto two overstuffed chairs nearby. Dropping the towel, he slipped between cool sheets and watched the even gas flame of the fire. He was looking for answers in the golden flickering plumes, aware that that wasn’t the right place to find them.

You have to treat this like a practice, Nick had said. Well, that’s one way of looking at it. He had never thought getting well was something someone would have to practice. He thought it was something you just had to wait and let your body do.

He tucked his head back onto the firm pillows, watching the fire patterns on the ceiling dancing back and forth. As his eyes closed, he heard the crack of an automatic, but was too tired to open them. Besides, his sleep was taking him to the noise, not away from it. He was back there. Blood on his hands. Camilla in his arms, the red liquid warm against his thighs. He realized he’d not remembered that she’d looked up at him.

She watched him, her eyes, surprisingly, not full of pain. He could see she knew she loved him more than he loved her. He was doing the right thing, but his feelings for her weren’t as strong as his sense of duty and honor. His goal was to never let her feel unloved, even if he had to spend his life pretending. He would be a father to a child he hadn’t planned on raising, because it would make her happy.

Because it was his duty.

For the first time in his dream, he searched her eyes. As the red blood trickled down the right side of her mouth over her startlingly flawless white cheek, her red blood-stained lips called to him and he heard her voice.

Goodbye, Luke.

Julie didn’t want to be alone in her bed, but she didn’t want to expend the energy to drive anywhere on the off chance she would see someone she knew. She thought about calling one of her teacher friends in San Diego, but checked the clock first. It was only nine o’clock. Numbness set in as she took a hot bath and then slipped on a comforting flannel nightie. She called her co-worker, Annalise, who picked up on the first ring.

“Well that makes two of us who don’t have dates, then,” Julie forced herself to say.

“So what else is new? How’s it going up there, Julie?”

“Oh, okay, I guess.”

“Any cute new guys hanging around? Your brother has some hunky friends down here.”

“I’ve been busy with the arrangements. Mom has me pretty tied up the next two days, going back and forth to San Francisco and Oakland airports to pick people up, get them to their hotels. I could probably become a chauffeur or do wine tours if I lost my teaching job.”

It grated on her that, even though she had a master’s degree, she could only get a sixty percent contract to teach. That way, the school district didn’t have to pay benefits. Although if it hadn’t been for that, she wouldn’t have had a job at all, since enrollment was declining.

“Speaking of which,” Annalise’s voice now sounded conspiratorial. Julie’s mind drifted back to the afternoon session a few days ago in Dr. Connor’s office. She didn’t pay attention to Annalise until the words, “and she said he wanted you fired.”

“Who said that?” Julie asked.

“The girl was talking about it in school the last day, how you weren’t coming back. You haven’t had a conversation with Connors I don’t know about, have you?”

“No. I even asked him. But you know, the guy won’t give me a straight answer.”

“Well, Julie, maybe he doesn’t know.”

“One thing’s for sure, he isn’t going to risk his job. Just wish he’d jumped in, been more proactive with the family.”

“He probably thought it would all blow over,” Annalise said.

It is going to all blow away. Everything is going away. Sharp, warm tears filled her eyes. That’s when it hit her, she’d been holding on to her strong side, holding everything in, and what she really wanted to do was have a seriously sloppy, slobbery cry.

Suddenly it didn’t matter if Annalise had information about her job. Her job could take a flying leap. The prospect of teaching in San Diego, a place where she’d loved living, was suddenly unappealing. Especially because she’d be looking for him everywhere. It would not give her any rest. Better to go away, perhaps back up to Oregon, or try to come home and get a job up here. Then Colin and Stephanie could come visit her here, where Luke wouldn’t be. Except there’d be pictures of him she wouldn’t be able to avoid. Stories about what he was doing. Who he was sharing his life with.

Someone other than her in the picture.

Annalise finally got that Julie wasn’t listening. “Hey, kiddo. What’s going on? You called me, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t want to say a word. You just like listening to me go on and on about boring things down here? I thought you’d have a great adventure up there. I was hoping for it, anyway.”

“Thanks, Annalise.”

No. Nothing much is going on except my heart is broken.

Again.

She wiped tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I’m going to go now. I’ll give you a call later in the week. You doing anything exciting?”

“I’m thinking when you get back we’ll go to Vegas for a weekend. That sound good to you?”

“Sounds perfect. Girl’s weekend out. Just what I think I need.” She continued brushing the tears from her face. “Thanks for picking up. Take care.”

Chapter Fourteen

‡

White linen tablecloths graced rounded patio tables surrounded by folding chairs decorated with pink and green ribbons Julie had tied all by herself. There were one hundred of them. She’d tied the balloons all along the approach to her parents’ house, along the mile-long driveway through oak and madrone trees.

Colin and Stephanie had made a wooden arch out of pieces of fallen tree branches in the woods surrounding the estate. It was rough-hewn, but they’d covered it with garlands of flowers and more wide satin green and pink ribbon. A dance floor had been laid down over her parents’ lawn yesterday, and Julie had settled fifty votive candles in little metal boats that would float on her parents’ pool glowing in the dark.

Her mother’s garden was in full bloom, even more abundant than in years past. She’d planted golden yellow black-eyed Susans and white Shasta daisies around her blooming purple and pink hydrangeas, which stood easily six feet tall. An array of snapdragons and sweet Williams dotted the front levels of the raised rock garden walls. In between, large South African lilies sent off a heady fragrance. The gardeners had worked furiously over the past week and everything, including the multiple colored pots overflowing with annuals, looked like it had been trimmed with a pair of scissors. There wasn’t a blade out of place, and yet the gardens had an exuberant, joyful look. Bench seats built into the rock walls were shaded with burgundy and green umbrellas, stuck into plastic piping embedded in the base of the seats. At night, the solar lights would come on and give it the magical glow they’d worked so hard to achieve.

She was still putting on finishing touches when her mother came out onto the patio.

“Julie, you’d better get inside and get dressed. People will be arriving in a half hour.”

The sounds of the caterers clanging around in her mother’s kitchen drifted through the opened doorway. She surveyed the chairs and umbrellas she’d decorated and called it good. Behind her mother came two young men carrying the flowers for each of the tables and the buffet, sending her scooting out onto the patio.

“Oh, my God, I totally forgot the flowers!” her mother exclaimed as she dropped her shoulders and looked at Julie with her head cocked.

“That’s cutting it rather close, I’d say. The boys better be careful they don’t encounter guests on the driveway on the way down,” Julie said as she watched the flower handlers set their box down and place little sprays at each table.

The driveway was single-laned. They’d hired a couple of high school boys with walkie-talkies to manage the traffic, and to drive guests up and down in a trailered golf cart for the faint of heart or legs. The property owner at the bottom had agreed to loan his bare land to serve as a parking lot. When Julie was in high school, partygoers had driven off the steep hill and wound up entangled in oak trees, lucky that their descent had been halted by the sturdy trunks.

“Good point. I’ll go let them know.” Her mother darted back into the house.

The sky had remained cloudless on this beautiful June afternoon. A gentle breeze fluttered the ribbons, made the tall flowers of her mother’s garden bob as if nodding at her in agreement. She’d always thought her wedding would look like this. Today she could look at it all, and actually feel happy for her brother and fiancée. The sting of Luke’s rejection had dulled as she sternly reminded herself that this day wasn’t about her and her feelings, it was about her brother’s. She would not let anything interfere with that.

She ran upstairs and began showering, washing and styling her hair and rubbing Tuscan Orange body crème everywhere. She took out the pink box and peeled back the peach tissue inside, revealing a light pink brocade corset. It hugged her waist, making it easily two inches smaller, made her already flat tummy even flatter, and rode down her hips and rear. She attached her pink stocking with the adjustable garter clips. The corset boosted her breasts up and gave her a luscious cleavage to accentuate her small waist.

Julie drew the lovely silk and voile bridesmaid’s gown over her head, smoothing it down her breasts and waist, making her body shudder under the hush of the cool fabric. She zipped it up the side and walked in a cloud of pink to the bathroom to do her makeup.

She applied creams, powder, added some dusting powder with sparkles in it for her shoulders, and used a pearlescent face powder. She lined her eyes in dark brown pencil, added a bronze eye shadow at the corners. With a generous serving of mascara, eyebrow gel and a last minute fluff up of her long curls held tousled by spray gel, she looked at herself in the mirror. Nodded. It was as good as it was going to get.

She reached for the light pink lipstick as she heard cars outside, and saw her brother and the groomsmen get out of the SUVs. She wasn’t going to look for him, but her brain counted them.

Six.

She drew the tube of pink lipstick to her lips and stopped. Setting it down gently, she reached for the bright red lipstick and at first dabbed it sparingly. It was an afternoon wedding, after all. But she evaluated her looks and decided she needed to go full-on red. Full-on, sexual-siren-drop-down-and-beg-red. The come over here and fuck me kind of red. It was a statement to herself. She was ripe and ready to party, with or without the handsome SEAL. In spite of the handsome SEAL. She’d be aloof, pouty, difficult, and nobody’s fool. She’d flit about this afternoon and evening, and not even look in his direction once.

She sprayed the room with the expensive bouquet Audrey Hepburn had created, walking through it and feeling the tiny atomized droplets hit her body. At last she put her pink satin ballet shoes on, twirled to see the layers of chiffon and voile rise up as if on a breeze created by angels’ wings.

Exiting her old room, she heard talking downstairs and identified her brother and several of his friends. She grabbed her skirts nearly mid-thigh to hold them up while she traveled to her parent’s room, where the bride was being primped for her big day. She found her mother and the makeup artist busy working on Stephanie. Her small, heart-shaped face was framed in off-white lace worn like a tiara on top of her head. Her bodice and sleeves were made of delicate cording held together by lace webbing, populated with a generous supply of crystals. She wore crystals in her hair, which sparked under her veil. She was the most beautiful bride Julie had ever seen.

“Sister!” Stephanie said, holding out her arms. The makeup artist barely had enough time to get her large brush out of the way before Stephanie moved past her to give Julie a hug. Afterward, the two held hands and beamed at each other’s beautiful gowns.

“Stephanie, you are absolutely gorgeous. I’ve never seen someone so happy, so radiant. Colin is just going to die when he sees you. He’ll have a stroke, honest!”

“Oh, silly. I think there is going to be one SEAL who is going to step on his own tongue this afternoon. Honestly, Julie, you’ll be the prettiest one out there.”

“Nonsense.”

The makeup artist demanded Stephanie’s exclusivity again, and then looked at Julie’s face and applied some blush and powder. Even her mother was attended to. A gentle knock of the door was all the warning before a bevy of peach and pink lovelies came squealing in, jumping and hugging the bride and getting caught in her veil. Julie enjoyed the happy banter and laughter of the bride and her attendants. She was so happy for all of them.

Julie and Colin’s dad was going to walk Stephanie down the aisle. Her father was smartly dressed in a three-piece black suit with a silvery brocade vest. He’d kept his trim figure and proud bearing, looking more like an older SEAL than an architect. He came over to wrap his arm around her waist and whisper to her ear, “Sweet Julie, next I’ll be walking you down the aisle.”

She threw her arms around his neck, kissed him on the check, and then squeezed him in a tight hug. “Not today, Daddy. Today belongs to Colin and Stephanie. I’m just so happy to be able to be here to enjoy it.”

He gave her a squint as he tilted his head to the side. “There isn’t a single man downstairs,” he pointed to the floor, “I’d object to you landing as a husband.”

“In time, Dad. But don’t get your hopes up. I’m happy being single.” He held her face between his palms and kissed her gently on the lips. “My good girl. Always Daddy’s special one. Always will be.”

He gave a hug and kiss to his wife and then addressed the bride as if he’d just noticed her. “Oh, my heavens! You look just like an angel, my dear,” he said. The bridesmaids giggled softly in unison. “My son is one very lucky man,” he said as he winked at his wife.

It was arranged so that the grooms stood in order at the foot of the stairs and the bridesmaids followed each other single file down the stairs. Stephanie stayed alone in the bedroom with her future mother-in-law. Julie made her way down the stairs carefully and looked over the top of the crystal-enhanced hairdos of the other bridesmaids as they paired up with their grooms. She deliberately didn’t look for Luke, and then when she realized she was close, instead of looking into his eyes as all the other couples had done, she looked down. Luke hooked his arm out to the side and she laced hers through it, gently pressing her upper arm against the back of his and resting her fingers on his forearm below his elbow. This had all been choreographed and scripted, and she followed along as instructed. She moved with him as he escorted her across the concrete floor of the living room, and out the ten-light double doors towards the patio. She carefully stepped over the threshold. Part of her dress snagged briefly on a rough spot in the wooden doorjamb.

In an instant Luke was there in front of her, kneeling, looking for where the fabric had hung up. The delicate material looked soft and luscious in his large, callused hands, like he was handling armfuls of whipped cream. He pressed the fabric he’d freed back into her skirts and she felt a gentle touch of his fingers on her voile-encased thigh. That’s when he looked up at her and his blue eyes seared her, and in spite of herself, she focused on his lips, thinking that would be safer than he eyes, until she realized he had done the same.

Their look mated. Both of them did a deep, controlled inhale, and both of them noticed the other doing it. Neither one looked away as the rest of the room faded to the background of muted voices and faded, blurry colors.

She had gotten used to his constant dark stubble, but today he was clean-shaven, his cheeks smooth and shiny, like they’d been oiled, but she knew it was his aftershave lotion. The lemony one he used, and yes, she could smell it. The light fragrance would still be on his fingers. His full lips were deep pink. Without his stubble, she noticed he had a dimple on his right side that was usually hidden, even during their ardent lovemaking. She’d thought she knew every luscious detail of his face, so this discovery was thrilling.

And that’s what she was thinking about as he turned and brought her through the doorway, the last couple to make their way across the patio, across the dance floor to the corner of the stone wall near the large cascading fountain. At the sight of Colin’s face, his eyes sashaying between the two of them, his lips raised in a private grin, she and Luke drifted apart and took their respective positions at the end of the procession on either side of the ceremony center.

A lute player began playing an old English hymn and the minister instructed everyone to rise and turn to see Stephanie standing at the edge of the patio with Julie’s dad proudly at her side. There was a collective gasp, and for a second Julie thought the audience would break into spontaneous clapping.

Though Julie was focusing on the bride, and frequently bringing her warm, loving gaze back to Colin, she felt Luke watching her. She could feel the heat of his smoldering gaze, the attraction she felt still strong, as it had been given a little encouragement earlier with the snag of the dress and the gentle brush of his fingers against her. She hadn’t flinched or stepped back at his subtle touch. Her heart still pounded at the closeness to him, at the feel of his eyes perusing her body carefully while everyone else’s was focused on the bride. She was doing her own private lap dance for him though she barely moved.

As Stephanie approached her future husband, Julie allowed Colin’s head to obscure Luke’s face. She noticed the SEAL stayed put and then moved slightly to the side so that she got a clear shot of his questioning blue eyes. She rocked back on the heels of her slippers and he was obscured again, and she turned her eyes downward as if she hadn’t noticed what she’d done.

In an act of boldness coming from somewhere deep inside her, she licked her ruby red lips, raised her chin and stared straight into the blue heaven of his eyes. Her heart fluttered and protested the pain of needing him so much, but took solace in the equal need she saw in his.

Chapter Fifteen

‡

Damn it! Luke’s inability to focus didn’t serve him today. He was tethered to the sight of Julie, like a big pink wad of cotton candy, ripe and exploding on his taste buds, the image of her delicate flower underneath all those petticoats and the way she would writhe beneath him.

Is she feeling it too?

Why couldn’t they just sit and talk first? Why did it always end up being about sex with her? He wanted desperately to plunge into her, but the need to be understood…to be loved…first was filling him with an angst that normally would make him incapable. Not today. He was drilling deep with his eyes, as if he could convince her he had the best of intentions, but couldn’t think until he was next to her, inside her, breathing her spice and tasting her juices.

At her fuckin’ brother’s wedding. He felt an unmistakable rock-hard erection that was damned inconvenient. Maybe the pain of his need was spurring him on. Was it the PTSD, making it so he wanted to lose control, take her, lift up her skirts and bask in the glory of her pink, quivering peach?

God in heaven, I’m a fuckin’ dog. He made quick apologies to Mama Guzman’s God, the one they all prayed to in Team 3.

Help me out, here.

And then he saw her wet her lips. She was all pink and innocent except for those lips that were the color of blood. The crack of the automatic, the feeling of warm liquid on his thighs, Camilla’s blood, the whisper from his beloved, the one he had held every night in spite of how much pain it caused him, the familiar things of his memory and his life, slipping into the slots of his brain and one by one faded, until all he could see was Camilla’s lips saying, goodbye.

Black circles began to tighten around his vision, and he thought he might pass out. He could see Camilla fading, almost floating, in a red satin gown that was moving all about her, the vision moving away from him, faded, and then was lost in a puff of smoke as his focus returned to the present.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Christensen.”

Colin and Stephanie first kissed modestly then turned and faced their well-wishers. The audience stood and clapped for them. Their happy profiles obscured Luke’s view of Julie for a moment, but he was rewarded when the newly-married couple stepped forward and down the aisle, and Luke saw her blush, blotchy red marks on her chest above the indescribably beautiful heaving breasts needing release. Her body was almost shaking as she struggled for breath. God, he wanted to fill her need. He knew he was the one to do it as no other could.

The other couples met in the center and followed the bride and groom out through the audience. At first Luke presented an arm for her to hook through, but at the last moment clasped her hand firmly and they walked, not as was rehearsed, but fingers entwined, slipping over each other’s fingers, squeezing, exploring, tips touching the juncture of each other’s fingers until he thought he would explode.

He led her off to the side of the house, not inside with the rest of the bridal party. He didn’t look at her, but instead held up a finger to his friend, Julie’s brother, and asked for a private moment with her. The moment was granted and he searched for a place where they could just be alone.

There was a small rose garden on the west side of the house, behind a white gate covered in a pink-blooming climber. He clicked open the gate and heard the creak of metal hinges, closed it behind her, brushing the beautiful fabric aside from the weathered wood on either side of the gate, and from tiny thorns of the climbing rose.

He felt her eyes watching him as he fixed her skirts, as he smoothed them and brushed them like he was preparing a large doll for display. And then he stepped to her, placed his palms on either side of her face, pressed her cheeks together, puckering her beautiful wet, crimson lips and sank himself into them. The soft pillows of flesh parted for him, complete with her delicious, high-pitched whine.

“Julie, Julie, Julie. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stand being away from you.”

He stepped back and searched her eyes, which were watering. Her arms carefully moved up along his back, rubbing over the black fabric of his tux.

In a moment he did not understand, she whispered, “Help me.” Her eyebrows had quirked into little tents. The warm brown eyes looked back and forth between both of his, looking for something he hoped to God she’d find there.

“Baby, I need you to help me,” he said honestly, rubbing his lips against hers, nibbling on her mouth, tasting lingering toothpaste and stroking her lower lip with his tongue. “I have nothing to give you but pain,” he said sadly, searching for an answer in her eyes.

She smiled and returned his nibbles, her long dark lashes fluttering as she examined his lips by kissing them. “No, you don’t give me pain. You give me pleasure, you give me hope. You give me something I’ve never experienced before fully, until today. You give me your love, and I accept it freely. All of it you can give, Luke. All of it, along with the pain and whatever else you have inside. I want all of you.”

The words she spoke began to sink in. She must have seen his doubt.

“All of you, Luke,” she said again, as she cupped his head between her hands. “I want entangled, complicated, and I want to be missed when I go, just as I’ve missed you these past few days.”

“Julie, are you sure?”

She drew back and looked at him with what he thought was going to be a scolding remark. “You telling me I don’t know my own feelings, Luke?”

“Of course not. But I’m—”

“Perfect just the way you are. Let me help you put back the pieces and grow the ones that are still missing. I can do this, Luke. If you’ll let me in.”

Let her in? Hell, yeah.

Just like that night at the beach, she had reached inside his chest and grabbed his heart. His soul was touched, his body was on board. His brain was still screaming what ifs! but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to go anywhere but deeper.

He started searching, turning his head from side to side.

She reached up on tiptoes and whispered into his ear, which made them tingle, “Follow me.”

Julie took his hand and they went through the white gate again, into the back yard. Off to the left stood a brick pathway curving behind a row of large shrubs. As they rounded the corner, Luke could see a vintage airstream trailer with its blue awning extended over the front door. She pulled the lever, opening the door, and stepped up inside the cool, dark trailer. He followed.

It had a musty, unused smell, but the windows were open and the curtains fluttered in the breeze. They could hear people laughing and talking, some dance music playing. He knew they didn’t have much time before the wedding party needed to pose for pictures, but he hoped to God they’d understand.

She walked down a short corridor, past an efficiency kitchen to a bed in the back with a light green satin bedspread and colorful pillows. She turned around, looking up to him as she sat in the pink whipped cream of her dress. Her body needed to be unwrapped, each layer peeled back slowly and savored. Her blush made him gasp.

He pulled off his jacket and laid it gently on the front couch, then undid his bow tie, dropping it to the floor. He removed his vest and dropped it. Bisecting the distance between them, taking his time to look at every luscious petal of her picture, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it out of his black pants. Her hungry look spurred him on. He sank to his knees, smoothed his palms from her ankles to her knees under the fluff of her skirt as she closed her eyes and licked those damned red lips. He moved his hands slowly up, like a swimmer doing a breaststroke, against her soft thighs, encountering the garters of her corset.

That’s going to be a challenge. But he’d make do. He dipped his head underneath her skirts and inhaled her womanly desire—

Two loud raps on the door broke the spell.

“Luke, Julie. We’re all waiting on you two,” Colin’s voice came boldly through the door. Luke whipped his head out from under her skirts, still hungry for the taste of her and faced Julie’s shocked face.

“Oh, my God. Ohmygod,” Julie said as she stood, her hands flying around her skirts. She ran to help Luke find pieces of his wedding attire, helping him slip on his vest as he buttoned his shirt.

“Colin, we’ll be right out. We were just having a private conversation. Sorry.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. But Jules, I came over here because Dad was steamed and when he saw you two come here. I’m afraid the whole wedding party kind of—

“Not to worry, Colin. We’re coming,” Luke said as Julie darted him a look, blushing. He couldn’t help but wiggle his eyebrows. She appeared not to have gotten the joke. He picked up his jacket. At least he hadn’t taken his shoes off.

As Luke was fiddling with his bow tie Julie opened the door to her brother.

“Sorry, guys. But we’re hot and crabby. Everything’s waiting on you two.”

Luke, grabbing Julie by the waist, whirling her around before bending to give her a deep kiss, his tongue as urgent as hers. Colin wouldn’t be able to mistake his intentions.

“Wow. Slow down there, partner,” Colin chuckled. “If you make my bride wait any longer, I’ll not gonna get lucky tonight like you guys are obviously gonna do.”

Julie giggled and tried to pull away. Luke loved the feeling of catching her and bringing her back to his chest.

“Luke, let’s get your bow tie straightened out.”

He submitted to her fussing over the little thing he wore willingly, especially since her scent and the delicate feel of her fingers on and around his neck was so pleasurable. She checked him over. She smiled. “What?”

“I like how you fuss over me. I can’t wait to do it to you, Julie,” he blurted.

“Guys!” Colin was getting impatient.

“Coming, coming!” Julie said breathlessly as she ducked out of the doorway. Luke slammed the door behind him and, taking Julie’s hand, allowed himself to be dragged back to the public part of the yard, and the waiting wedding party. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Julie’s mother or father, but several of the bridesmaids bore expressions of shock, one young lady covering her mouth to conceal what he suspected might be a grin.

Well, what did they expect? He was going to get under her skirts sooner or later. This would just heighten the anticipation.

And then he’d go for Veteran’s Day, Memorial Day and the Fourth of July, all at once. It would be an evening she’d never forget.

Chapter Sixteen

‡

Luke had been goofy all during the photography session. He’d been inappropriate, exasperating the poor, skinny photographer, but his assistant, who looked like she’d been around the block a few times with bikers, loved their play. Luke would break after their pose and grab Julie.

“Take this one,” he’d say, picking her up, his face obscured by the creamy pink floaty material. He asked to have the bridesmaids and grooms photographed separately, as couples in a group, and he would not allow a stiff, formal picture. In every one he was hugging her, his face was so close to hers all the time, he kissed her so many times in front of God and the whole world without anything held back, eventually she stopped worrying about it and went with it.

Even the elder Mr. Christensen seemed to enjoy it, although her mother, ever the practical one, wanted old-fashioned wedding photos first, and then would do the folly, if he insisted. She’d told him so several times, but Luke pretended not to hear. He was the most deliciously handsome bad boy and Julie loved how he didn’t care.

Finally the group drifted off to different corners of the house, the patio and the pool area, leaving Luke and Julie alone. He snagged a bottle of champagne and whispered, “To the Airstream, love?”

Julie felt her cheeks flush for at least the tenth time in the short hour they’d been with the photographer. He walked around behind her, one arm pulling her by the waist into him, her rear cleavage feeling his hardness. “Or should we go somewhere they don’t know about?”

She felt giggles erupt from deep inside her chest.

“Mmmm. I like those little sounds. I love the way you laugh. I love the way you do everything.”

She turned around, placed her arms around his neck and felt him pull their bodies together. Hard against him, she felt safe. And she also knew he wouldn’t always be like this. He would have his difficult, possibly even insane moments, but for right now, she’d enjoy the way he was and the way he showed her how much he cared for her.

He was sipping on her lips, making her dizzy, as people walked past them. She didn’t care and closed her eyes so she could just experience the hardness of his body, the soft, lemony scent of his cheeks and the tender way he worked over her mouth, stroking and pleasuring her tongue.

“I don’t want to leave the party, Luke. I don’t think this can be done discreetly, but I’m still all for it.”

“Mmmm. Music to my ears, baby.”

He led them back around the hedges, down the brick pathway and back to the Airstream. She made sure all the shades were drawn and she clicked the door locked.

“No deadbolt, so if someone has a key, we’re screwed,” she said, and then giggled. “Or, actually not screwed!”

“I love your potty mouth, Miss Christensen.”

He was untied his bow tie again, laying it on the countertop, tossed his jacket carefully on the couch. Tore off his vest and walked up to her in his pants and white shirt, having kicked off his shoes.

“You do it,” he growled as he inhaled and presented his chest to her.

She began unbuttoning his shirt, kissing the warm, smooth skin underneath the cotton. She pulled his shirt from his pants, letting one hand squeeze his package lovingly.

“I want you to know it’s more for me than just missing your body, Luke. And I—”

“Me too, princess.” He interrupted her with a kiss that migrated to her neck as her hands slid over the ripples in his chest, squeezing a nipple between her thumb and first two fingers. “It’s way more than sex for me. I’m not ashamed to say I need you, Julie Christensen. I need you in my life.”

She examined his face. He allowed the distance between them.

“Luke, I know there will be some rough patches. Like I said to you earlier, just bring what you can.”

“I’m hoping we can make this work, sweetheart.”

“Me too. But—” she covered his mouth with her fingers. “You don’t have to make any promises. I’ll take any part of you that you’re capable of giving. And I think we can work on the rest, if you’re into it.”

“More than into it. It will be my mission in life. But the instant I feel out of control, I’m going to leave.”

“No, Luke. You stay and finish it. I can handle anything you dish out. I figured that out while we were separated. This is crazy fast for me. We have so much to go over and talk about, and now with the sexual angle—not knocking it, of course—but I want to explore all of you.”

“Doctor, I am all yours. I will never hurt you, Julie.”

“That’s just it, Luke.” She took his hand and they sat on the couch. “You won’t be able not to, because I care for you, and we will both do things that will disappoint the other. I have one request, though.” She looked at him levelly. His eyes were steady on hers. He didn’t flinch or frown, which was a good thing. “No quitting.”

At that he cocked his head.

“Like your training, Luke. If we do this together, no quitting, saying it’s too hard, walking away. I won’t live that way. Being separated from you is bad enough during the day, but if I’m around when you’re deployed, I will wait for you, because you will come home to me, right?”

He nodded. “Absolutely I will come home to you. And dream about you every day and night.”

“And if your dark places come up, you show them, Luke. You work with me to understand. We work on both our dark or scared places, so we understand each other. We don’t quit. You don’t run away or ring our DOR bell.”

He was serious for a second, then smiled. “But, Miss Julie, I love ringing your bell.”

She smiled back, feeling the heat on her chest and face. “Yes, and you do that very nicely. But I want to make sure you understand, it is just like that first night on the beach. I don’t do uncomplicated. I like entangled. I won’t do casual. I want it all, Luke. You don’t hold back. You show me everything, and we work on it all together. But I won’t live with those days of being apart because you leave me. You don’t walk away. You don’t quit on me. Never. Understood?”

He inhaled like he’d been slapped. Looking first down to his lap he thought for a few moments. “If I get to a place—”

She stopped him again with her fingers on his lips. “You let me decide if it’s too much. You let me decide. You don’t take that decision away from me. Because, Luke, I’m not quitting. Ever.”

It would have been easier to just fall into the lovemaking and bask in fantasy love with him, but what she wanted was a real relationship with the real hero who had sacrificed himself for her and the rest of the country. She wanted to grow, to be his right hand, the person at his side, not the person who watched from the sidelines.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“I could say the same. So let’s learn to heal each other. But understand that it’s the real you I want, not someone you’re pretending to be, Luke. I want you to be my hero just by showing up.”

He nodded. Their foreheads touched. “You have me entangled, Miss Julie. But, unlike your statement to me on the beach, there is no fuckin’ way I’m going to miss you, because I’m going to hold on tight to you. I’m never letting you go. And you already know I’m not a quitter.”

“Yes. I’m going into this with my eyes wide open, Luke. I’ll take all of you. All the parts. You just have to show up.”

“Agreed.”

She could tell his restraint was hurting him a bit, but he was making the point that he wasn’t going to just jump her bones, even though it was clearly on his mind. He wanted her to lead him. And that was just about the sexiest thing he had ever done.

“Come,” she stood, pulled his arm and he walked behind her, his shirt wide open, showing off the delicious abs and pecs peeking out from his shirt. His trim hips and long gait followed. His eyes stayed tethered. His fingers entwined with hers as he allowed himself to be led. She sat on the end of the bed with her chiffon flounces out to the sides. The place where they’d been interrupted.

He knelt again. “Thought about this all during the photography,” he whispered as he removed first one slipper and then the other. “Thought about this,” he hissed as he ran his palms up from her ankles, over her knees and pressed her thighs open. He looked down on the layers of dress, his arms buried underneath and his fingers found her panties. His clear blue eyes search her face as he breached the elastic and his fingers rubbed her up and down, circling her clit. She was parched. The delicious feeling of him searching, taking his time, being gentle but persistent with his invasion, made her wet. When he slid two fingers inside her sex she felt herself melt against him.

He moaned, noticing her readiness for him. He lifted the petticoats with his other hand and buried his face in the juncture between her legs, breathing hot against her satin panties, rasping his teeth along her lips through the fabric and sucking the little nub that stood up in blatant invitation. She heard his groan as his hot tongue hooked under the edge and found her warm sex ripe and waiting for him. His tongue on her opening made her cream with delight. The first lap and suck of her lips sent her into a shudder of pleasure.

She lay back on the bed, raising her knees and propping them on the mattress by his ears. She raised her pelvis to his mouth as the fabric crinkled under them. He peeled the layers of organza back, laying them on her chest while he exposed her to him fully. Then he removed her panties.

He stared down at her while removing his shirt and trousers. Fully naked he placed his hands under her bottom, lifted her sex to his mouth and licked and sucked the delicate folds of her opening. His tongue plunged deep inside her, making her rock with pleasure, forcing her pubic bone against his nose. She could feel her own juices spilling for him as she felt her sex pucker, swell and release to his mouth.

His two fingers massaged inside her and around her clit as he climbed up on top of her.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I want to fuck you in this dress. Just the fantasy I’ve been having ever since I saw you before the wedding. I wanted to fuck you with this soft pink fluff floating all around us.”

“Yes. I was thinking the same thing,” she laughed. “Could hardly wait.”

“I don’t want to hurt the dress,”

“Shhh.” She found herself saying, “It’s like me, not nearly as delicate as it looks.”

He got to work pulling her stockings off, sliding them carefully down her legs and placing them on the floor by the bed. He pulled her panties off and tossed them behind him. He climbed up on the bed, sliding her up with an arm under her shoulders.

“Help me with this fantasy,” he whispered in her ear.

She couldn’t help but smile when he propped himself up at the head of the bed, his cock large and stiffly saluting the ceiling, as he drew her, pulling her forearms so she was climbing him. He helped her smooth the skirts out to the sides, her bare knees found his hips and slid to hug him there underneath the skirts. She rose up on her knees, then rocked down and back, feeling his penis ride the little gully of her sex, getting snagged at her opening.

And then he was inside, just the tip. He clutched her hips and ground her down along his shaft. She felt her liquids release, her body accepting his girth, holding and milking him as he lifted and pressed her body alternately, riding his cock. He was huge, filling her deep. They started out with long, deep strokes, but soon she was rolling her hips against him, pressing into him as he raised his hips to plunge deeper inside. She rocked back and forth, loving the delicious feel and dull ache she’d carried for days being fed, satisfied, inflamed.

After several minutes, their fucking became urgent, her need for full penetration increasing, and when she began to feel the buzz and tingle of her new orgasm, he came on even stronger.

He was pushing her pleasure, knowing she was on the edge, not letting her stop, fueling her fire. She found herself arching backward, moaning to the ceiling as he rammed into her, his hips mating, giving support to his cock embedded deep.

He unzipped the side of her dress, peeling it down around her shoulders till it pooled at her waist as his hands roamed over her corset.

He sucked in air as he finally got a good look at the light pink brocade undergarment. “Oh baby. That’s nice, but how the hell do I—”

“You don’t. I’m leaving it on.”

“But I want to see you, all of you.”

She was still rocking, feeling her inner muscles spasm delightfully. “You will,” she groaned between thrusts.

“God, how I love hearing you when I’m fucking you.”

“God, I love how you fuck me.” She squeezed her elbows together forcing her breasts out in front, as her knees hugged his hips. His hands had been roaming under her skirts, up the back of her butt cheeks, but in a flash they were over her own hands as his fingers forced hers to squeeze her own breasts under the stiff bones of the corset. He rose up, arching forward, kissing her neck, raising his knees to lift his pelvis and his cock deeper inside her. The fabric of the dress started bunching up in front of her, partially obscuring his face, making him have to peel them back so he could suck her nipples.

Finally he lowered his knees. “This has got to go. I liked it at first, but this just has to go now,” he said with determination. He lifted the frilly dress off her and she was left with just her corset. She continued to ride him. His hands still gripped her waist as he moved her up and down his shaft, rocking her to the sides, rocking her deep.

“Baby, this is real nice, but—” He was staring at her breasts, still partially hidden from him.

“It stays, for now—” she started. “Patience,” she said as she leaned forward and kissed him.

He rocked deeper still underneath her, mumbling urgently, “Patience has never been one of my strengths.”

“No,” she sighed. “Urgency and action,” she said as she moved on top of him in circular motions. “Lots of fucking, that is your strong suit.”

“God, baby—” He began to spill inside her. She unsnapped the corset down the front and watched as his deep breath nearly sucked her inside him.

He had her off him in a flash, pushing her down on the bed, throwing the corset to the side, hiking up her knees. He thrust himself in, rooting deep. He was still spilling, but getting harder and bigger as he came. Forcing aside the lips of her sex, filling her. He stroked long, ending each time deeper inside, and then with one last push, pressed his cock firm against her cervix, and held himself there while she felt the delicious spilling of his seed and he stayed still so she could feel its full force.

Her body answered his with a long, deep, rolling orgasm in tandem, one that left her wrung out. He stayed pressed inside her. She loved the way their bodies joined, and rode the wave of their pleasure all the way to the top of the hill and down the other side, where they slid into mutual entwined serenity.

He woke up groggy from their lovemaking, not sure how much time they had been sleeping in the little vintage travel trailer, but loving the feel of her body beneath his. Her lips were still red, even though he’d kissed most of her lipstick off. He loved gazing at her while she slept. She was all the things he’d wanted in a woman, and she’d said she was in it for the long haul.

He thought about what Kyle had told him, and Nick had underscored. She not only was that someone he would lean on, he would learn in time to trust that need instead of trying to cover it up. His own beliefs had told him he wasn’t good enough, that he needed to stay away, that he wasn’t worthy. But she stood up for the part of him that wanted to connect on this intense level. That little thread that knew it was okay to ask for help, to need someone. That being a man was about facing your fears, and not always conquering them. He knew she would love all the rough edges and bumps out of him.

And for the first time in his life, he’d found someone strong enough to handle what he knew he might dish out. That she told him not to quit made a big impression. He knew about not quitting. He knew about not ringing the bell.

“I’m still here,” he whispered to the line of helmets he’d seen at BUD/S. To the line of men who hadn’t been able to find what he’d found in a woman. He was overwhelmed with gratitude.

‘I like complicated, entangled. I want to be sorely missed when I’m gone.’

Baby, there’s no fuckin’ way I’m letting you anywhere out of my sight or my heart again. Not ever.

*

Look for an expanded full-length book of SEAL My Destiny in the Fall 2014.

About the Author

Life is one fool thing after another.

Love is two fool things after each other.

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NYT and USA/Today bestselling author Sharon Hamilton’s award-winning Navy SEAL Brotherhood series have been fan favorites from the first day they were released. They’ve earned her the coveted Amazon author ranking of #1 in Romantic Suspense, Military Romance and Contemporary Romance, as well as Gothic Romance for her Vampires of Tuscany and guardian angels. Her characters follow a sometimes rocky road to redemption through passion and true love.

Her Golden Vampires of Tuscany are not like any vamps you’ve read about before, since they don’t go to ground and can walk around in the full light of the sun.

Her Guardian Angels struggle with the human charges they are sent to save, often escaping their vanilla world of Heaven for the brief human one. You won’t find any of these beings in any Sunday school class.

She lives in Sonoma County, California with her husband, and two Dobermans. A lifelong organic gardener, when she’s not writing, she’s getting vera vera dirty in the mud, or wandering Farmer’s Markets looking for new Heirloom varieties of vegetables and flowers.

She loves hearing from her fans: sharonhamilton2001@gmail.com.

SEAL BROTHERHOOD SERIES:

Accidental SEAL (Book 1) Available on all eReader devices, print and Audible

Fallen SEAL Legacy (Book 2)

SEAL Under Covers (Book 3)

SEAL The Deal (Book 4)

Cruisin’ For A SEAL (Book 5) Out February 20, 2014, soon in print and Audible.

ANTHOLOGIES:

Dangerous Attraction Available until March 1st on all eReaders.

Uniform Desires Available until March 1st on all eReaders.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

Box Set Contents

Code of Silence

Title Page

Copyright Page

Rave Reviews for Marliss Melton

Novels by Marliss Melton

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Epilogue

About the Author

Holding On

Title Page

Copyright Page

About the Book

Dedication

A Quick Note from Stephanie

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

About the Author

Mutiny’s Bounty

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

About the Author

Warrior

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

PART ONE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

PART TWO

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

PART THREE

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

From the Author

Research Notes

About the Author

Other Books by Gennita Low

Seal’s Desire

Title Page

Copyright Page

From the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Other Titles by Elle James

Breaking Free

Title Page

Copyright Page

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

About the Book

About the Author

Books by Teresa J. Reasor

SEAL’s Lost Dream

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Author Note

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Epilogue

Other books by J.M. Madden

Connect with J.M. Madden

About the Author

SEAL My Destiny

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

About the Author