In My Sights (1 Night Stand Series)

by L. J. Garland

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  In My Sights

  Copyright © 2012 by L.J. Garland and Debbie Gould

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-439-3

  Cover art by Fantasia Frog Designs

  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, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

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  In My Sights

  Pararescuemen – Book Two

  A 1Night Stand Story

  By

  L.J. Garland

  &

  Debbie Gould

  Prologue

  Bobby stood on the dune, studying the gleaming black Hummer’s retreat. A dozen tin cans tethered to the bumper trailed over the sand behind it. The vehicle held his best friend, Colin Beckett, and Emily, his new wife of three hours. He’d played an instrumental part in getting them together, and it ate him up inside. Not that he wasn’t happy for them, he was. The changes he’d seen in Colin since finally accepting Emily’s love had been huge.

  He gritted his teeth. His friend would never know just how damn close he’d been to claiming Emily for himself. After a year of trying to get the stubborn man to accept a future, he’d helped her set up a blind date through Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand. Fortunately for them, it had worked. Unfortunately for him, it’d left him as only the best friend, best man, and godfather to their daughter.

  The Hummer turned out onto the main road. He knew his friends’ marriage was right. Colin exemplified strength, honor, and valor. He loved Emily and would see to her happiness. And his new wife? She was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. She loved with a fierceness he’d rarely seen. He just wished she’d felt the same way about him.

  Damn it. He needed to stop pining for a woman who didn’t belong to him, never had been his. Hell, he hadn’t even kissed her. He frowned. He just wasn’t sure another woman would ever measure up.

  A hard grip fell heavy on his shoulder. Shit. He hadn’t even heard his teammate walk up beside him.

  “Better get over those puppy dog eyes, Bobcat.” Zeke handed him a cold bottle of Corona. “I know damn well it’s not the LT you’re sad to see go.”

  He snatched the beer. “Back off, Diz.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t get your panties in a wad. Just making an observation is all.”

  “Yeah? Why don’t you go observe one of those jellyfish in the surf? Up close and personal.” Damn, he didn’t need Zeke’s ribbing. He was six beers into a damn good pity party and had no intention of stopping.

  Bobby knocked back the Corona. The Hummer would be headed down US 98 toward the Pensacola International Airport. Pivoting on his heel, he marched down the dune to where the reception had thinned out. The commander and most of the civilian guests had already departed. The diehards remaining consisted of the team and their dates.

  Isabelle had left with the babysitter an hour ago and would be snuggled in bed before long. She was his responsibility for the week, but he’d made arrangements for tonight—he wasn’t fit company for a dog, much less a two-year-old.

  Reaching the cooler, he grabbed another golden ale from the ice and slammed the edge of the lid against the picnic table, prying the cap from the bottle. Who needed a fucking opener? Hell, he was Tech Sargent “Bobcat” Martin, United States Air Force Special Forces, sniper extraordinaire. He downed half the beer in one gulp.

  “Jesus.” Zeke raised a brow. “You need to get laid, man. ASAP.”

  Bobby grunted. “I get laid plenty, thank you.”

  “I’m not talking about your hand, dude.” Zeke turned to study a group of women standing together in the shallow waves.

  Bobby knew what he saw, prime tail. Tight, curvy, stacked figures, splashing around in the water, throwing all kinds of glances their way. Those inviting looks would have any hot-blooded, straight male fired up and ready.

  Except him. He didn’t want a damn meaningless hook-up. He wanted it all—friendship, love and family—and his best friend just drove off with the one woman who could’ve given everything to him.

  Zeke nudged his shoulder. “Let’s go over and introduce ourselves to the friendly little ladies.”

  “Go for it. I’ve got my company for the evening.” He lifted the bottle and took another long drink. The fact he wasn’t interested in a roll in the sand didn’t need to be brought to light.

  “You’re going to turn away from four hot, willing women? That’s two apiece, in case you can’t do the math.”

  “Not tonight.”

  Zeke shook his head. “Okay, Bobcat. Wallow in whatever shit you got going and move on.” He stepped in front of him, giving him a hard stare. “I know how much you value my advice, so I’m gonna give you my best. Contact Madame Eve.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Freaking dumbass. What the hell would a dating service do for him?

  “Fill out her questionnaire and find an Emily of your own.”

  “I am not hung up on her.” Jesus, he wasn’t. Not really.

  “If not her, then the idea of her. For some god-awful reason you want that connection. You haven’t been any fun to club with in months. Shit, you’re pussy-whipped and you don’t even have a woman yet. Fucking sad, that is.”

  “Aw, Christ, Diz. Back up off my balls, will you? I got Colin’s kid all week. I can’t very well bring home a couple women now, can I?” Sounded like as good an excuse as any.

  “Whatever man. Me? I don’t plan on going home tonight. See, commitment? That’s a fatal disease, Bobby boy. Yo
u might be stricken with it, but me and those scorching beauties over there, not so much.” He bent, grabbed four beers from the cooler. “Do the Madame Eve thing. She’s well known for finding matches. She’ll find yours.”

  Zeke sauntered over to the women with his arms wide open. They swallowed him up, sparing a glance Bobby’s way. He gave a slight shrug, and they turned their attention back to Zeke. The guy would be in for some special attention tonight.

  Snatching a couple more bottles, he headed down the beach where it was darker and quieter. Sitting, he stared out over the Gulf of Mexico. Millions of stars sparkled overhead while the sound of waves crashing against the shore calmed his warring thoughts.

  The physical ache to sink inside one of those pretty ladies ran strong through him, but mindless sex wouldn’t lessen his growing need for something more. He sighed.

  Madame Eve.

  Maybe the overgrown kid had been right. Yeah, the dating service set up one-night stands, but there was more to it. He’d heard of too many people finding their soul mates. That’s what he wanted. With any luck, maybe she would soon be in his sights.

  Chapter One

  Six weeks later.

  Bobby sat at a table in Hellenback, the sports bar he and the guys often hung out at when they needed to decompress. Only the gazillion televisions, rowdy patrons, and his noisy-ass teammates weren’t what held his interest. Nope. The email he’d just received on his iPhone from Madame Eve seized his full attention.

  Dear Sergeant Martin,

  I have good news for you. I have found the perfect woman for your one-night-stand. Attached you will find her profile, and she has seen yours as well. Ms. Cantrell has requested a strong yet gentle man to reacquaint herself with the passions she once held dear. I have no doubt you are just the man to accomplish this.

  Our Ms. Cantrell is a tad, shall we say, gun shy. Pun intended. She would like to meet for dinner first. If all goes well, the presidential suite has been prepared with everything you both have requested, and I am certain all will meet with your approval.

  I do have one bit of advice, Sergeant Martin. Happiness is always just around the corner. Don’t be quick to dismiss what some may see as a weakness.

  Attached, please find the details for the date.

  Best,

  Madame Eve

  Jesus Christ! Was he really going through with a blind date? Frowning, he scrolled back to the top of the screen. And what the hell did Madame Eve mean by gun shy? The whole damn message was cryptic.

  “What’s got you so quiet, Bobcat?”

  He looked up from his phone to find his three teammates, Colin, Zeke, and Kyle, staring at him. “What? I can’t check my email?”

  Colin shook his head. “Didn’t you’re mama ever tell you it’s rude to play with your phone while you’re supposed to be kicking back with your friends? Besides, your face just went paler than a jar of mayo. Problem?”

  He shoved the phone in his front pocket, grabbed his beer from the table, and took a long pull, slamming the bottle back down in front of him. “Isn’t your wife waiting at home for you or something?”

  “Nope, she and Izzy went shopping in Pensacola. She knew we’d want some time after yesterday.”

  The rescue. The team had been on a damn training exercise and fallen shit first into one hell of a mess. While flying about ten miles out over the Gulf, preparing to start drills, they’d spotted smoke and flames rising from a 46-foot Beneteau sailboat. Also suspicious was the red speedboat, flying across the water away from land.

  They’d radioed the Coast Guard, who’d had no distress calls, and thirty seconds later, the team rappelled onto the burning boat. What they’d found had left them all shaken to the core.

  Bobby glanced over at Zeke “Diz” Matthews. Usually the jokester of the bunch, he sat staring at the bottle in front of him, stone silent. Seeming to sense Bobby’s gaze, Zeke looked up at him, his eyes loaded with pain.

  “Five minutes earlier and we could’ve saved them all.” He shook his head. “That girl, she’ll never be the fucking same again.”

  The girl, they’d later learned, was twenty-seven-year-old Kaci Phillips—the only survivor of an attack that killed her entire family. Zeke had been the one to pull her off the boat. He’d held tight to her hand the entire flight back to Panama City while Colin and Kyle started IVs and tended to the multitude of cuts, abrasions, and stab wounds scattered over her body.

  “She’s alive, Diz. At the moment, that’s all we can ask for.” But, Zeke was right. Watching her family get slaughtered while she endured torture and abuse would forever change her.

  “Yeah, well, somehow being ‘alive’ doesn’t seem enough.” Zeke stood, his chair scraping backward and nearly toppling over. “I need some air.”

  He stormed out of the bar and down the beach.

  Bobby snicked air against his eyetooth. Yeah, something about the girl had stuck with the man. Yesterday hadn’t been their first civilian rescue, far from it, and certainly not the first female. But their happy-go-lucky, playboy teammate sure had taken this one hard.

  “He’ll be okay,” Colin said. “Let him go blow off some steam.”

  Bobby pulled a bag of Skittles out of his pocket and popped a handful in his mouth. “Maybe we should head over to the gym, do some sparring?”

  Kyle eyeballed Bobby and cringed. “How the hell can you eat those things and wash ’em down with beer. That’s disgusting, dude.”

  “What the hell is the difference between my Skittles and an ice cold Labatt and your Twinkies and Bud? Now that’s over the top gross.” Bobby shoved more candies into his mouth, chewing them up while taking another long pull on his beer.

  “Twinkies, dude, are on such a higher level than those little balls of sugar you live on. Twinkies are…shit, they’re a fucking religious experience.”

  Colin and Bobby burst out laughing.

  Kyle glared at them. “Screw you.”

  “Make sure to check in with your Twinkie cult,” Bobby razzed. “Cream lovers.”

  He rubbed the edge of his eyebrow with his middle finger, not so subtly flipping a bird.

  Colin angled toward Bobby. “So, enough evasive maneuvers. What did you read on your phone that got you so spooked?”

  Bobby waited while the waitress placed a new round of brews and a huge plate of nachos in front of them. Taking an ice-cold gulp, he glanced at the two men waiting on his reply. “Madame Eve.”

  The pair set about hooting, hollering, and all-out acting like a couple of high school jackasses.

  He rolled his eyes as fire roared up his neck. “That’s right, yuck it up fellas. The joke’s on you. I’m canceling.”

  Colin cleared his throat. “Oh, no you don’t. You goaded me into keeping my one-night stand. No way are you backing out. Not unless you want your new call sign to be pussycat instead of Bobcat.”

  “Your situation was totally different. I knew Emily would be meeting you. I knew you both needed to get together, work stuff out.”

  Colin leaned back in his chair. “All you knew is you were butting your ugly-assed nose in where it didn’t belong. That it all worked out is the only reason I allowed you to keep breathing. You’re going on this date, or I’ll make sure you pull PCS to Iceland.”

  PCS, permanent change of station. The son of a bitch would probably do it, too. “Fine.” He pulled out his phone, brought up the email, and replied in the affirmative. “Happy?”

  Colin grinned from ear to ear. “Sublimely so.”

  Chapter Two

  Christ, Bobby felt like a nervous virgin sitting alone at a secluded corner table in the four star restaurant of the Castillo Hotel and Resort-Destin. He fidgeted with his tie only to smooth it against his chest. How the hell had he let Colin manipulate him?

  With his back to the wall, the way he always liked it, he could see anyone coming at him while he watched for the mystery woman who would be his date.

  To keep his hands occupied, he grabbed his water gla
ss and took a long drink, hoping the icy liquid would calm his nerves. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a one-night stand. Not that he made a habit of casual relations, but hey, in his line of work, with all the traveling they did, it happened. Tonight would be the first time he’d set out with the sole purpose of meeting a woman he didn’t know, having no-strings attached sex, and never seeing her again.

  Somehow, the idea didn’t sit right with him.

  Returning the glass to the table, he crunched a chunk of ice. The whole arranged meeting had set his skin to itching—no thanks to the cryptic email Madame Eve had sent. Just what kind of woman had he been set up with? Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand service was renowned for finding the right match for her clients and providing a safe environment for all parties. But damn if it didn’t sound as if his date would be boarding with more baggage than just a carry-on.

  Oh, well, he was here now. No sense in worrying until he found out the details and whether the situation might be recoverable or FUBAR—fucked up beyond all recognition. Thank God, they’d decided to meet in the restaurant. If it didn’t feel right, he could make an excuse and bail.

  Smoothing his damn tie again, he glanced at his watch. Twenty-hundred hours. Go time.

  Bobby glanced up, his breath jamming in his throat. The maître d’ escorted a sultry blonde toward his table. Damn. Issues or not, the lady looked hot. Long golden curls cascaded past her bare shoulders. The blue dress he’d been told she would be wearing clung to every dip and curve of her body, and damn what a rack. The closer she came, the more those full red lips made his mouth water. Lifting his gaze higher, he tried to make out the color of her eyes.

  But something seemed a little off. Instead of focusing on him, she looked everywhere else, appearing to take in everything about their surroundings—and not in the “holy shit, this place is banging” kinda way. Not that he was some egotistical schmuck, thinking her attention should be on him, but beyond being hyperaware, she kept glancing over her shoulder as if expecting a hostile to jump out from behind the potted fern.