by Tracy Brody
“He joining us on a trial basis?” Juan asked. “If he doesn’t pass muster, we get to send him back to doing cover shoots for GQ?”
Without hesitation, Grant flipped off Juan.
Vincenti busted out laughing. “I like the kid already.”
Grant’s middle finger curled down, and his flash of snark morphed back to the boy-next-door smile before Ray saw what happened.
“He was SF medic in 7th Group and finished top of his class in three of four phases of the Q course. Pretty sure he can take whatever we throw at him. We’re gonna start with run-throughs in the shooting house today. We won’t start with live hostages, though.” Ray motioned to Grant to take the vacant seat next to Shuler.
“Moving on,” Ray said.
Mack simply raised a brow at Ray when the team broke for lunch after a few hours in the shooting house. Since Ray handed him the ammunition magazine, he speculated the weapon malfunction on the latest hostage-rescue drill was intentional.
His team leader’s cocky smirk confirmed it. “Knew you’d hate that. Grant hesitated, but he recovered and picked up your sector. Hits could be cleaner. We’ll do a couple more run-throughs after lunch, see what happens when he gets fatigued. I want this team mission-ready within the month.”
“No rest when you got Bad Karma to dish out.” Tony sank onto the picnic table bench while Grant and Kyle Lin walked toward the compound to retrieve the food. “Hey, Grant, bring extra ice and waters when you come back. And hustle up, newb. I’m starving.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
Rozanski rolled his eyes. “Yes, Sergeant? What next ‘My pleasure’? Or apologizing to the targets for shooting them?”
“He’s not that polite. He flipped off Dominguez,” Tony pointed out.
“I bet he flashes that GQ smile and offers to help old ladies cross the street,” Dominguez put in.
Everyone went silent. Tony laughed first, and the other men joined in. Most Special Ops guys earned nicknames. It usually took a few weeks for the right one to click. Until then, they were new guy or newb.
“‘Boy Scout.’ All in favor?” Ray asked.
Everyone’s hand went up. With the newbie’s nickname decided, Grant was a step closer to sealing his spot on the team.
“Mack, you want to hit Jumpy’s Place with us?” Juan asked while they ate.
“Can’t. I have the girls this weekend.”
“Vincenti, you want to come? Be my wingman,” Juan asked.
Tony snorted. “Pass.”
“You already have plans? Doesn’t have to be Jumpy’s. Where you going?” Juan persisted.
Without responding, Tony took another bite of his sub.
“All right. You don’t have to stick around and be my wingman.”
“If you need a wingman to meet women, then there’s probably something wrong with your approach. Or your reputation.”
“Oh, like you’re so different.” Juan rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I am. And because you don’t see it is why I’ll never be your wingman.”
“Enough. We’re a team. You don’t have to like each other, but we need to work together to get the mission done.” Ray put an end to their back-and-forth before it escalated.
Mack understood the chief’s point. And he wasn’t going to call attention to how much Tony and Juan had in common when it came to hitting bars and leaving with women they’d just met. Juan might go on a few dates with them afterward, but Tony seemed to take what was offered without making promises.
Mack wanted more for himself. Maybe he’d matured. Or having Amber and Darcy made him realize he wanted a woman he could eventually introduce to them. A woman looking to hook up with a Spec Ops guy wasn’t the example he wanted for his girls. The last time he’d gone to Jumpy’s, one of the women he’d talked to did everything but come right out and ask if he’d killed anyone—like that turned her on. Pass.
“Time to get back to work,” Ray declared.
Tony crumpled the wrapper from his sub. “Tell the girls Uncle Tony says hi. Or maybe I’ll come by.”
“Darcy’d love that.” Which was true. Rather than be intimidated by his tough exterior, she climbed on Tony like he was her personal jungle gym, and he ate it up.
The chief was right about them being a team. A band of brothers. Bad Karma Brothers. They all had extended family, but this team had a disproportionate number of single guys.
Lin and Porter were young, yet old enough to be married, especially by Army standards. Rozanski proposed a month ago, though he wasn’t getting married until after their upcoming deployment. Grant didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t engaged or married.
Tony was Mack’s best friend, but even he wasn’t sure what Tony’s deal was. He sure didn’t act like he was looking for a mate, despite his love of kids. Juan had two divorces under his belt and wasn’t going that route again anytime soon, or maybe ever. Shuler was on his third marriage—not unusual in their world—and expecting another kid.
Mack rounded out the bunch with his recent divorce. Only Ray had it all: his Spec Ops career; a devoted, understanding wife; and a daughter who had it together, too. The Lundgrens gave him hope that one day he could have it all again. He needed a woman like Stephanie, one who wouldn’t give him an ultimatum—career or family. He wanted it all. For him and his girls.
Eleven
The gentle hum of her tires on the interstate calmed the nerves that flared back up when Kristie saw the road sign giving the mileage to Fort Bragg. This move would be a good thing. Here, she wouldn’t be “the poor widow.” It’d be a fresh start. A chance to make new friends. A step toward her dream job.
She’d only be infringing on the Lundgrens for a few hours in the evenings—and she’d probably be flying lots of nights. She’d find a permanent place near the airfield within a few weeks.
And it wasn’t like she’d be smack-dab in the center of Ray and his Spec Ops buddies. Keeping her distance would be easy. She might encounter them in the commissary or other businesses, but those guys trained clear on the other side of post. She might fly over them, but that’s it. She had this.
By the time she turned onto Ray and Stephanie’s street, her confidence trumped her reservations again. Everything was as it should be. The sky was a vivid blue. Trees were in full leaf; flowers bloomed. American flags flapped in the breeze, and a man pushed a lawnmower across his lawn. A child wearing a purple helmet rode a pink bicycle in the street while a man ran behind her, holding the bike seat. The sunshine accented the red tones in his hair.
Mack?
When the child saw the car coming, she veered to the right, running up a driveway and onto the grass before toppling to the side.
Oh, no. Kristie braked. Before she could get out of the car, Mack waved, letting her know his daughter wasn’t hurt.
Mack. On Ray’s street. Really? What the …?
She waved back, then parked in the Lundgrens’ driveway.
“Time to give your old man a two-minute break.” Kristie overheard Mack say when she got out of her car.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to run you off the road,” she said as the pair ambled her way.
“Not your fault. Somebody panicked a little.” Mack gave his daughter a mock frown. In return, the girl’s pink lips curved into the most precious smile. Brown eyes bordered by to-die-for lashes looked up at Kristie. Wisps of red hair a few shades lighter than her father’s peeked out from the helmet. “This is my daughter, Darcy. Miss Kristie is going to be staying with Uncle Ray and Aunt Stephanie.”
“Hi, Darcy. Looks like you’re getting the hang of it.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” Mack wiped away beads of sweat, drawing Kristie’s attention to the freckle touching his bottom lip.
“Daddy, can I get a drink?”
“Sure, monkey, but we aren’t done yet, so make it fast and bring me a bottle of cold water, too, please.”
“You, uh, live on the street?” Kristie ask
ed the obvious.
“Right there.” He pointed to the house where Darcy headed.
Right across the street. Talk about a damper on her plans to steer clear of Ray’s Special Ops pals—particularly Mack. Ohhh, brother. Okay. It’s not like this was some setup. She could deal with this for a few weeks.
“Looks like the only gear she still needs is a Kevlar vest.” Kristie grinned at the way Darcy waddled due to the knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist guards. It fit with Mack being a protective father.
“Don’t give her ideas.” Mack’s throaty chuckle made dragonflies flit in her stomach. “Our first attempt to ditch the training wheels ended with badly scraped knees and hands. She was afraid to get back in the saddle right away. Kinda surprising for a kid who got her nickname by climbing anything, or anyone, she could and swinging upside down. Anyway, I was deployed last summer, and now that the weather’s nice, all her friends are riding, and she’s feeling left out. She is learning to ride it today. Before she goes back to her mom’s.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. We’re gonna need it. I saw your hosts head out a while ago,” he said before she could slip away—and stop obsessing over that freckle.
“They had to leave for a church-group dinner.” She’d told them to go since she’d gotten a later start than planned. Late because packing up and saying goodbye to friends had been harder than she anticipated. “They left the door unlocked for me.”
“Pretty safe neighborhood,” he drawled with an easy grin. “You need help moving anything in?”
“I didn’t bring much, but if you could grab the box in the back seat, I’d appreciate it.”
She got the two suitcases from the trunk while he reached in and hefted the heavy box with ease, then followed her up the drive to the door. The quiet surreality of entering Ray and Stephanie’s home hit hard.
With Mack on her heels, she headed to the guest room rather than hesitate and risk showing vulnerability. This was temporary. A transition to a new life. She didn’t plan to forget her past with Eric, but the time had come to move forward.
“You can set that in the closet.” She stationed the suitcases next to the dresser, suddenly anxious to get out of the bedroom. How long had it been since a man had been in her bedroom? Way too long. Better to not give Mack time to think about them being alone, even if neither had inappropriate intentions.
As Kristie returned to her car for another load, Darcy trotted across the street, holding water bottles to her chest. She handed one to Mack.
“I brought you one.” The girl offered a bottle to Kristie.
“Thank you. I am thirsty after the drive up.” The child’s thoughtful gesture touched her. The familiar ache for a child clutched at her heart and robbed her limbs of energy. She managed to unscrew the top and take a swig of water without her eyes getting too misty.
“Once we’ve mastered the bike, I’m going to grill some burgers. You want to come over and have dinner with us? There’ll be plenty.”
I’d love to. She pictured Mack at the grill. Sitting around a table to enjoy a meal like a family sounded better than her norm of sitting on the couch with the TV on to feel less alone. But he wasn’t a part of her future, so she better shut down that daydream. “I don’t want to intrude. Besides, I should get unpacked and settled in since I have to hit the tarmac running tomorrow.”
His lips puckered, and his gaze locked on her eyes as if he saw right through her excuses. “Okay. Maybe another time.”
She nodded meekly. “I’m going to be peeking out to see how the bike riding is going.” It was easier to address Darcy than quote fraternization regulations. He knew as well as she did that even casual relations between non-commissioned officers and enlisted personnel were prohibited. And with almost two years of required service left, she couldn’t afford to mess around.
“Need help with anything else before we start up again?” he asked.
“I got it, thanks.”
“Okay. Mount up, monkey.” He set their water bottles on the grass and checked the chin strap on Darcy’s helmet.
“Good luck!” Kristie went to the car and scooped up an armful of hanging clothes from the seat. After she carried in the last load of things, she unpacked the suitcases, then found room in the hall bath to stash her toiletries.
She was putting the smaller suitcase inside the larger one when Darcy’s squeal and Mack’s comforting encouragement drew her to the window. She looked out in time to see Darcy wobbling on the bike while Mack ran alongside, his arms spread out but at the ready as she took flight on her own. She made it past two houses before running up into a front yard.
You go, girl! Kristie cheered her on. Darcy set her fists on her hips in a scolding manner when Mack tried to high-five her.
Mack’s rich laughter carried even from a distance. The proud smile on his face as he picked up the bike and set it upright nudged at Kristie’s heart. Handsome, fit, and confident, with an enjoyable sense of humor. Throw in great fatherhood qualities, and it added up to a man most women would find desirable.
Could she fix the flaw in her plan to avoid Mack and the rest of Ray’s team? She couldn’t surrender already, but she was going to have to fight hard—against herself—to win the battle her heart waged. A chance to be part of a whole again. She could have it. But she should wait for the right guy, rather than set her sights on the first guy who appealed to her when the rank issue could endanger her career—and especially since his Spec Ops career could land her heart in double jeopardy.
Twelve
Kristie stopped at the gas station on post to fill up before heading to the Lundgrens’. Overall, her first week had gone well enough. She’d met most of the men in her new company, and they were welcoming. Next week, she’d meet the two pilots who’d been on leave.
Her first two days had been easy flying with the head pilot, James Lee. As she got familiar with the area around Fayetteville and Fort Bragg, they caught up on life since they served together at Fort Lewis. She also liked the two other pilots she’d flown with.
Staying with the Lundgrens made the transition easier, but over the weekend, she’d get serious about looking for a permanent place to live. She couldn’t stay with them forever. Things would settle into a new normal soon.
As the gas pumped, her gaze locked on a man fueling a gray truck at another row of pumps. He stared directly at her.
In that fraction of a second, she recognized Bryan Sheehan. Of all people to run into. She’d hoped never to see the misogynistic ass again after their last deployment. Could she not catch a break?
His icy look chilled her from a good twenty-five feet away. No surprise since he’d blamed her for the Article 15 disciplinary action resulting in his demotion. What were the chances he’d transferred to Bragg, like fifteen percent? Shit. If he was in one of the aviation units at Simmons, she wouldn’t be able to avoid him, even if he was working on a different aircraft type now.
She stood straighter. If he’d done his job right or admitted to the screwup, and had not been an insubordinate asshole, he wouldn’t have gotten written up.
As if by tacit agreement, they broke eye contact. After he replaced the nozzle, Sheehan climbed into his truck; only he didn’t leave. She tried to ignore his existence as she cleaned her car’s windshield and rear window. Still, he sat there. Maybe he was staring at her backside. Whatever. Just finish and go. Once her tank was full, she got in her car and cast a quick glance in her rearview mirror.
While she waited for an opening in the traffic, the rumble of a large truck engine came from behind. Son of a bitch. Sheehan’s bumper nearly kissed hers. Surely, he wouldn’t … She pressed harder on the brake.
As soon as she could, she pulled out. Sheehan had to wait for another SUV to pass, but thirty seconds later, he tooled along behind her. He turned the same way leaving post, and a mile down the road, he was still there. Not on her tail, but one car behind. When she turned, he followed. For her next turn, she didn’t use he
r signal. Neither did he. Now there were no cars between them.
Surely, he wouldn’t try anything. Not on a busy road with people around. Then again, acting now, before she could tell anyone about him, meant he wouldn’t be a person of interest if something happened to her.
She fished her phone out of her backpack, turned on the video, and put it on the dash mount. “In the gray truck behind me is Bryan Sheehan. He’s been following me since I left the gas station on post.”
Was she overreacting? Probably. She could always erase the recording. Better than calling the police, or Ray, when the jerk was merely following her at a safe distance.
There was no way in hell, though, she’d let him follow her to Ray and Stephanie’s. She had to be smart. Since she didn’t know the area well enough to outrun or ditch him, she looked for a place to duck in. Somewhere with people around but wouldn’t make him think she was afraid of him. Someplace like that strip shopping center.
She flicked on her turn signal and turned in, eyeing the storefront signs as she cruised the parking lot. Dry cleaners, Chinese takeout, cell-phone repair, nail salon. Perfect! He wouldn’t follow her in there, right? If he waited instead of driving off, she’d splurge for an overdue pedicure. And while he probably didn’t have a clue how long a manicure or pedicure took, she couldn’t see him waiting in the parking lot that long.
After taking the empty space in front of the salon, she craned her neck, picking out Sheehan’s truck two rows over. He idled rather than park. Was he making sure she didn’t get his plate number?
Trying her best to appear casual, she got out and didn’t glance in his direction on her way in. Overhead, the bells chimed, and an overpowering chemical smell assaulted her nose. While waiting for one of the staff to greet her, Kristie caught a glimpse out the front window as Sheehan drove slowly past.
“Do you have an appointment?” A young woman asked in accented English while filing a brunette’s nails.