The Reckless Warrior (Navy SEAL Romance)

by Jennifer Youngblood

  Standing here in this cabin with a floor plan identical to all the others, Corbin got a sense of the years peeling away, almost like he’d never left. Despite the sadness of Gram’s situation, there was a certain comfort from the familiarity. Like Pops said, he knew this place like the back of his hand, and would be able to keep Delaney safe here. He breathed in the familiar scent of lemon cleaning solution mingled with cedar. Hilda Bryant had been cleaning the cabins for years, ever since Corbin was a boy. She loved lemon. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”

  Delaney took off her shoes, then went to the tweed sofa and deposited her purse. She stood, looking around like she was unsure what to do. Corbin understood her hesitation. This was a far cry from San Diego, that was for sure. She rubbed her arms like she was cold.

  “I’ll start a fire as soon as I get everything in.” Pops kept a large supply of seasoned firewood in a covered box beside the front door, along with an axe and chopping block. While there was no central heat, there was a fireplace in the living room and pot belly stove in the kitchen. The bedrooms had portable heaters. When a fire was going, the cabin was cozy and romantic. Although, Delaney would balk if he dared bring up the latter.

  Once the luggage was in, he locked the door and clicked the deadbolt. Tomorrow, he’d do a thorough check of the perimeter to make sure everything was secure. It was good to know that Hugh and his goons had taken the bait and were far away in Northern Cal. Delaney was sitting on the couch, the TV on. There were only a handful of channels available, mostly local stations. She was watching the news. She glanced at the luggage. “Do you need any help?”

  “Sure.”

  She stood and reached for her guitar. “Which room am I staying in?”

  It was a two-bedroom, two bath. “I’ll let you take the master, and I’ll sleep in the guest room next door.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  A smile touched her lips.

  “What?”

  “You sound just like your grandfather. He seems like such a nice man.”

  He frowned. “He’s okay.”

  She looked puzzled. “You don’t like him?”

  “Of course I like him. He’s my grandfather, practically my father.” The last thing Corbin wanted to go into was his complex relationship with Pops. While Pops had mellowed in his older years, he’d been hard as nails when Corbin was growing up, expecting nothing less than perfection. Pops didn’t like Corbin questioning his authority, which he did on a regular basis. Gram had been the buffer between them. When she got sick, the situation escalated with the heightened emotions, making things between him and Pops intolerable.

  Corbin couldn’t stand watching Gram wither away, so he joined the Navy. Addie accused him of using it as an escape. Maybe he had. But the Navy and then later the SEALs gave him purpose, a way to channel his anger. It had worked well until Doug was killed and everything fell apart. Doug had been his rock, his compass. Had it not been for Doug, Corbin never would’ve made it through BUD/S training, and especially not Hell Week, that five and a half day stretch where they were forced to operate on four hours of sleep. Men were dropping like flies—men who seemed a lot tougher than Corbin. There were many days when Corbin had been ready to ring the brass bell to tap out, but Doug’s response was always the same. “You can ring it tomorrow if you want, but not today. Today we conquer.” In BUD/S training, conquering meant surviving the day.

  Corbin hauled the heavy suitcase up the steps. Delaney was in front, carrying her guitar and a duffel bag. At the top, he motioned. “The master’s this way.” Corbin placed Delaney’s suitcase on the floor beside her bed. A smile slid over his lips as he gave her an offhanded look. “What’s in here? Rocks?”

  She shrugged. “Hey, don’t blame me. I didn’t order all that stuff.”

  “True,” he conceded. “Are you normally a heavy or light packer?”

  She leaned her guitar against the wall, dropped the duffle bag on the floor, then plopped down on the bed. “Is this one of those times when anything I say can and will be used against me?”

  He laughed, liking that she was bantering with him, even though they were both weary to the bone. “Maybe.”

  “I’m Southern. And Southern girls never do anything small.” She stretched out her legs, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m so exhausted.” She yawned as she spoke.

  “Me too,” Corbin agreed. His mind ran through the set-up of the cabin. “The bathroom is a Jack and Jill style, shared between our bedrooms.”

  Her face fell. “Oh.”

  “If it bothers you, I can use the one downstairs.”

  “I hate for you to do that. We can share.”

  He searched her face. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” She said it like Pops, breaking the word into pronounced syllables. They both smiled, sharing the moment.

  She reached up and pulled off her wig and placed it on the nearby nightstand. Then she removed the hair net, her blonde locks falling over her shoulders. “I’m so glad to have that thing off my head. My scalp’s itching like crazy.” She scratched her head, then ran her hands through her roots, fluffing it up. Corbin’s breath caught thinking of how it would feel to run his fingers through her hair. She looked like an angel, the most intoxicating woman he’d ever seen. She tipped her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “What?”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said softly. He thought about their kiss and how it had consumed him, making him want more. Next time he wanted to kiss her the right way, holding nothing back. Briefly, he wondered how she would react if he went to her this instant and pulled her into his arms. Her swift reaction to his compliment was his answer.

  Her eyes widened, and she looked like she wanted to retreat. “Thanks.”

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I have a terrible habit of speaking before I think.”

  She relaxed a little. “No worries.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “It was nice getting to know your family.”

  “They really like you.”

  “Really? I wasn’t sure what Addie thought of me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Is she always so inquisitive?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, she’s the nosiest woman on the planet. She likes to pretend like she’s tough, but inside, she’s a teddy bear.”

  Corbin felt a little foolish standing in the middle of the room. Did he dare sit down on the edge of the bed? There weren’t any chairs. No, he’d better not chance it. Delaney might freak out. It felt intimate enough with the two of them alone in this cabin, then add that he was standing in her bedroom. Better keep a respectable distance.

  “Thanks for everything. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

  That was his cue to leave. “You sure you don’t want me to start a fire? I could make us some hot chocolate. That’s one of Pops’ staples, I’m sure he bought some.”

  A wistful look touched her features, giving him hope that she might accept his invitation, but the expression vanished as quickly as it had come. “I’m really tired.”

  He sighed. “All right. If you need anything, let me know.” He jutted his thumb. “I’ll be right next door. When you’re in the bathroom, just keep the door to my room closed and locked, and I’ll know not to go in.”

  She nodded.

  “Oh, and feel free to turn on the heater so you don’t freeze to death.” He grinned a little at the sight of her, hugging her arms like it was twelve below zero in the room. He was used to the cold, even enjoyed it most of the time. But Delaney was used to the mild San Diego weather. Funny how he’d thought he wanted to use his newfound income to go somewhere warm and now he was kind of glad to be snowed in with Delaney. “Here, I’ll do it for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  After the heater was plugged in, he turned to leave, then stopped, turning to face her. He couldn’t stop the goofy grin from spilling over his lips. “By the way, you did good tonight … pretending to
be my girlfriend.”

  She blinked in surprise as a deep blush brushed her cheekbones, making her look even more incredible. She smiled hesitantly. “You didn’t do so bad yourself, Captain America.”

  The compliment sent warm bubbles bursting through him. It took all the fortitude he could muster not to close the distance between them and pull her into his arms. His eyes held hers. “I guess we fit together better than we thought, huh?”

  She flinched, hugging her arms even tighter. “Goodnight,” she clipped.

  “Goodnight,” he repeated dully. One step forward, ten steps back. At this rate, he’d be sixty before he won her over.

  Corbin was exhausted and yet too keyed up to sleep. The wind howled like a lonely wolf outside his window, making him glad he was inside, snuggled under the heavy blanket. It was crazy to think how quickly his life had changed. One minute he was working a dead-end job and the next he was on a plane to San Diego. Now, he was back home, the most fascinating woman he’d ever met sleeping next door.

  Of course all was not fun and games. He had to keep Delaney safe from a ruthless killer. Goosebumps prickled over his flesh as he looked at the Glock on the nightstand. He’d kept it nearby, just in case. Before turning in for the night, he’d called Sutton and reported in. That was their system—he’d call in every night on a secure line letting Sutton know the status. Sutton asked if Corbin needed any backup. He told Sutton that as long as Hugh was in Northern Cal, he was fine on his own. But that could change in a heartbeat.

  He closed his eyes, willing his mind to shut down for the night. An image of Delaney flashed before his mind. Their kiss had not been acting, he was sure of it. They’d probably need to stay in the cabin, keep away from people as much as possible. But Corbin hoped they might be able to get out a little. He’d love to take Delaney on a snowmobile ride or to the hot springs. If they went at night, there would be fewer people. He’d pull her close, let his fingers get lost in her magnificent hair. Feel her soft lips against his.

  Finally, he felt himself drift off to sleep.

  This is a dream, Corbin told himself. And yet it felt so real. The memories came as they always did, like fragments of splintered glass that shifted at random to create distorted pictures of reality. He felt the camaraderie of SEAL Team 7—a band of brothers whose allegiance to country was only equaled by their loyalty to each other. Never had Corbin felt so much acceptance from a group.

  Their orders were clear—rescue a diplomat and his family held hostage by a terrorist cell in a remote village.

  The fragments shifted. Heat crowded out all else. A heat so oppressive that it was like being trapped in a wet oven, basting in your own sweat. The lightweight vest was designed for jungle ops and yet, it still felt heavy against Corbin’s chest. He wished he could rip the wretched thing off, give his skin a chance to cool off. He could’ve been stark naked and still be sweltering. And it was the middle of the night! Insane that it would still be so hot!

  They walked like phantoms through the thick vegetation of the Filipino jungle, trying to stay clear of the slithery creatures that ravaged nearly every square inch of the moist, tangled landscape. A faint taste of spice lingered in the night air. His boots made a soft sucking sound against the thick mud. To Corbin’s ears, his steps were as loud as firecrackers, but he knew his senses were exaggerated. Their footsteps would be masked by the rhythmic shrieks and cries from tree frogs and a million other jungle creatures. Doug was on Corbin’s right. By common consent, the two of them never ventured far from one another’s sides. Before they’d gone quiet, Doug teased him about the need to find a good woman and settle down. Corbin had laughed. “I’ll leave that to you, buddy.”

  The scene changed. They were inside the village. From all appearances, the inhabitants were deep in a peaceful slumber. Stealthily, they made their way toward the two-story structure where the family was being held, at least according to intel. The information had come from a trusted source, but there was always a chance of it being erroneous.

  Zane, the Commanding Officer, held up a hand for them to halt as he assessed the situation. Corbin clutched his assault rifle, his eyes scanning through the darkness, looking for any signs of movement. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Zane waved the group forward.

  They were about twenty yards from entering the house when everything broke loose. Shadows rushing at them, shots popping like hot grease in a pan. Ambush! Corbin’s mind screamed.

  “Fall back!” Zane ordered, but there was no time. They were caught like fish in a bowl.

  A firestorm of bullets rained down. Cover was too far back. Nothing they could do to escape.

  Doug rushed forward into the chaos as shots ricocheted in every direction. He tossed a grenade at the delivery truck parked in front of the building. It hit the gas tank on the side, exploding into a ball of flames and shielding the SEALs from the bullets of the enemy.

  For a moment, the gunshots stopped. Doug ran back. Corbin waited for him while the other SEALs darted to the cover of a low wall.

  “That was gutsy, man!” Corbin exclaimed. “The perfect diversion to get us out of here.”

  Doug went down, face in the dirt. At first, Corbin thought he’d tripped, then realized with horror that he’d been shot multiple times. Corbin fell to his knees, his tears mixing with the sweat. Corbin ripped off Doug’s helmet, the vacant look in his best friend’s eyes shredding him to pieces. “No!” he cried.

  Cannon took his arm, tried to pull him to his feet, urging him to fall back with the team. But rage boiled through Corbin’s veins, crowding out all reason. All he could think about was retribution—a dozen lives for the life of his friend.

  His mind shifted to the next events. More commotion. Screams. Zane’s voice coming through the headset. “Stand down!” he yelled. “Abort!” But the command fell on deaf ears. Out of the corner of his eye, Corbin saw the family, huddled together, two men dressed in black carrying semi-automatic rifles—one in front and one in back, leading the family out a side door into the jungle. A mother and father, two young girls, their muffled sobs carrying in the night air.

  Corbin began systematically firing at the terrorists, instinct taking over. He dropped the two gunmen in front and back of the family. Then took out several more on the roof.

  “You’re putting the team and family at risk! Abort!” Zane ordered.

  But Corbin’s rage knew no limits. He’d get them all! He stepped into the open, no longer caring about his own life as he ignored the shots being fired at him. The next events were seared into his soul. The family running. A terrorist firing at them, the bullet hitting the young girl as she crumpled, blood spilling over her white nightgown. The blood pooled and ran like a river onto the ground. He felt the girl’s terror, heard the mother’s gut-wrenching cry as she fell to her knees beside the girl. The father trying to drag the mother away.

  His grandmother’s face took the place of the girl’s. Gram had been so good to him, had understood him in a way no one else had. And now, she was alone. Gram was standing at the head of a tunnel. He had to get to her, but his legs were cement, darkness closing in around him.

  “Help her!” Corbin cried. A sob broke loose in his throat. “Please!”

  14

  A cold sweat broke over the bridge of Delaney’s nose as she shot up in bed, her hands gripping the covers. Her body trembled as she looked wildly around the dark room, her mind trying to process what was happening. Was Hugh here? An icy terror clutched her.

  She heard the deep rumble of Corbin’s cry. “Help her! Please!”

  Somehow, she managed to find her voice. “Corbin? Are you okay?”

  No answer.

  For a moment, she wasn’t sure what to do. She looked at the closed bedroom door, expecting it to burst open any minute. Nothing.

  She heard more muffled cries. Sobbing?

  A prayer for help sounded in her mind as she sat there, shaking. Finally, she pushed back the covers and got out of bed. Her h
eart in her throat, she rushed through the bathroom into Corbin’s room. A heady relief covered her, making her go weak in the knees when she realized what was happening. Corbin was having a nightmare.

  She stood there, trying to figure out what to do. The tough guy was crying like a baby in his sleep. Compassion washed over her as she went to his bedside. Holding her breath, she touched his shoulder.

  “Corbin?”

  As he sat up and reached for his gun, she jumped back with a yelp. Terror seized her as she held up her hands. “Don’t shoot. It’s me!”

  Corbin shook his head in a daze, trying to focus on her. Then he put the gun down. He sat back, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled so low that she wondered if she’d imagined it.

  “You were crying.” The cold of the wood floor seeped through her bare feet, spreading ice up her limbs.

  She heard a gulp, realized he was still crying … or at least trying to squelch it. She stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

  “It was my fault.” The words came out ragged and hoarse.

  “What?”

  Long pause. And then another choking sound. “The girl’s death. If I hadn’t gone berserk and started shooting, she’d still be alive today.”

  A thousand questions pummeled her mind, ending with, What girl?

  He drew in a halting breath, letting out an embarrassed chuckle as he scooted to sit up. “Sorry, I was still half asleep. Scratch those statements.” He ran both hands through his messy hair. “Sorry … you probably think I’m a head case.” He wiped at his tears.

  There were two things Delaney was well acquainted with—sorrow and regret. She’d never fault anyone for going through hardships. In fact, she was surprised Tuck’s death wasn’t plaguing her in her sleep. Her mother’s death did often enough. A sliver of moonlight shone in through the window, reflecting off Corbin’s strong jaw. Even Captain America had weaknesses. She got a good look at Corbin. Realized with a jolt that he was shirtless. A blast of heat went through her as she looked at his defined pecs and six pack. Okay, focus on his face, her mind commanded.