“Hooyah.”
Soup had been listening intently to Devon’s conversation with Rhys, but now he said, “If, uh, anyone wants to come and help, that’d be awesome. Fellow new guy?”
Devon nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was hang out alone in the team room with all these loud and boisterous men.
When Rhys said he’d come, too, they made plans to meet out front in ten minutes. Then Soup paused, glancing at Devon’s polished uniform shoes. “Uh, they’ll be expecting me to literally run over to the motor pool, so—”
“Got it,” she said hastily. “I have some PT gear in my car.”
By the time Devon retrieved her duffel, found the women’s locker room and changed clothes, her ten minutes were nearly up. She hung her uniform carefully back in her car and headed for the front entrance to the building, where Soup and Rhys were already stretching.
“Ready?”
It was four-and-a-half miles to the motor pool. The three of them ran with loose, easy strides, their sneakered feet pounding the pavement. Devon sucked in a deep, deliberate breath of the sea air, welcoming the surge of endorphins that smoothed out the ragged edges of her emotions.
“Dude, I’m sorry, I know I’ve met you before, but fuck if I can remember where,” Soup grunted. “What’s your name again? Maybe it’ll jog my memory.”
“Rhys Halloran.” Rhys grinned at him encouragingly. “Does that help?”
Soup pursed his lips in frustration, then suddenly snapped his fingers. “Got it! Your engagement party, what was it, a year ago? You’re the Air Force PJ!”
Instantly Rhys’s face went blank.
“My name’s Matt. My, uh, my friend Shane got into that brawl with the cops, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Rhys’s voice sounded pinched.
“The guys talked about that night for weeks,” Matt went on enthusiastically. “About the fight, and about how pretty and nice your fiancée is. How is she, by the way?”
“Oh, she’s great, now that we broke up.”
Devon almost went down when Matt stumbled and lurched into her, a stricken look on his face. “Oh, shit. Way to stick my foot in my mouth.”
Rhys stopped, too, and linked his fingers behind his head. “No, man, I’m sorry. That was shitty of me. No way you could’ve known.”
A short, uncomfortable silence fell as they all tried to look anywhere but at each other. Finally Rhys said, “How’s Shane doing? I worked with him for a bit over in Charlie platoon before I transferred to Delta.”
“How’s he doing?” Matt grimaced. “Not sure. I actually haven’t seen him in a while.”
Devon was looking right at him, so she caught the spasm of pain that crossed his face. Uh-oh. Shane was obviously a painful subject.
Rhys didn’t seem to notice. “He’s a good dude.” He let out a chuckle, turning to Devon. “Really good-looking guy. Single, too.”
A strangled noise emanated from Matt’s throat, which he covered up with a cough as he started running again.
“Lani—my ex—kept trying to set him up with some of her girlfriends,” Rhys went on, still oblivious. “The other team wives did, too. Poor guy had a target on his back, what with all the women determined to get him settled down.”
Devon could’ve sworn she heard Matt growl.
“I’m pretty sure that’s why he finally came out as gay...to get the matchmaking to stop.”
This time when Matt stumbled, he went down hard, sprawling flat on his stomach with a loud oof!
“Shit, you okay?” Dropping to her knees next to him, Devon tried to make him turn over, but Matt resisted, keeping his face buried in his folded arms. The muscles of his shoulders were bunched tightly under her palms, his distress all but vibrating from him.
Ah. I guess Shane is someone special.
A wave of sympathy rolled through her. It seemed that Rhys wasn’t the only one with a broken heart here.
At last Matt rolled to his back. “Sorry,” he croaked. “First day on my new feet.” He avoided Devon’s gaze as he reached up a hand and let Rhys haul him to standing. “I, uh, didn’t know Shane’d come out. Good for him.”
He set a grim pace, and Devon had to focus all her attention on keeping up. By the time they reached the motor pool, she was sucking wind and soaked with sweat.
Tilting her face up to the bright, sunny sky, Devon walked in circles, hands laced behind her head. God, she’d missed pushing herself like this...having to dig deep for that last ounce of strength, only to find a well of it she didn’t even know she had. Sudden anticipation heated her blood.
A second chance. A new beginning. And it all started here.
“Hey, Knytych,” the motor pool chief called to Matt as he flipped through some paperwork. “When didja transfer to Team Three? Weren’t you with Five?”
“Checked in with Three today, Chief.”
“Damn, you gotta start all over with the FNG shit!” The chief shook his head. “Dumbass.” He tossed Matt two sets of keys. “Well, good luck, AO2.”
“Thanks, Chief. I’ll need it.”
As Matt handed Devon the keys, their eyes met. Devon recognized the expression in his, since it mirrored her own—sheer determination mixed with uncertainty over what the future held. Understanding arced between them, and they exchanged nods.
Rhys was watching them solemnly. She beckoned him over.
What a trio we are—the new guy, the outsider and the woman.
A fledgling circle of trust, and Devon had the feeling they’d all need each other in the coming weeks.
As if reading her mind, Rhys reached out for a fist bump. “Let’s stick together, okay? We got this, guys.”
“Hooyah.”
They tapped knuckles, and then Matt climbed into one driver’s seat, Devon the other. Rhys joined Matt on the passenger side and, gunning their respective engines, they set off. As she drove, one phrase went through Devon’s mind over and over.
I’m not alone.
* * *
“Don’t give me that guilt-trip, Darla. You know I’d be there if I could.”
Rhys scooted away from Smudge and did his best not to look like he was eavesdropping. It was kind of hard, though, since they were sharing a bench seat in the van, sitting so close their thighs were almost touching.
“We got a few extra days tacked onto the end. Whaddya want me to say, baby?”
Well, this was awkward. Smudge’s wife was really letting him have it, if the way he was sputtering was any indication. That’s one thing Lani had never done, made Rhys feel like he had to choose between his job and his life with her. She’d accepted every training trip, and the two deployments, with equanimity, while Rhys fervently counted his blessings for having such a supportive, understanding partner.
Now he couldn’t help but wonder: Was it just because she was glad to see him go?
The life of a military spouse wasn’t easy in the best of times, and since he and Lani weren’t married, she hadn’t had access to benefits the Air Force offered that would’ve made her life a little easier. Thank goodness for Sarah. Together, she and Lani had navigated the demands that life in special operations put on them. They’d been each other’s support while trying to break into the close-knit group of women whose friendships were already cemented by years in the teams.
Rhys sighed. And she’d been there for Lani when things started falling apart.
Next to him, Smudge had finished his conversation and was staring up at the ceiling of the van, his jaw tight.
“Everything okay, man?” Rhys ventured, wincing as Smudge let out a bitter snort.
“Does it look like everything’s okay?” Smudge glared at him for several heartbeats, then half turned in his seat. “This white boy’s killing me, y’all.”
Some laughter from the dudes sprawled about the van behind them. “What’s he doin’, Smudgy?”
“Existing. I close my eyes, I can see him glowing. All that white skin, red hair. He’s like a fuckin’ fl
ashlight shining on me.” Smudge sucked in a deep breath, then yelled, “Help me turn him off, boys!”
Before Rhys could react, he was grabbed in a choke hold from behind and wrestled up and over his seat. Gasping for air, he kicked out at Smudge, who sucker punched him in the ribs for his trouble.
Oof! Rhys crashed to the floor of the van and immediately set about defending himself. He didn’t have much range of motion, but he did his best as he was pummeled from all sides.
“Crazy motherfuckers!” He bellowed in fierce satisfaction when his fist connected with someone’s jaw. Cries of exhilaration rang out, along with the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and metal creaking and groaning.
Rhys tangled his fingers in someone’s hair and yanked. The guy howled, head butting Rhys so hard starbursts exploded behind his eyes. Through it all, Devon drove on, her eyes fixed determinedly on the road ahead.
“Only goddamn SEALs,” Rhys gasped as he gouged his fingers in Smudge’s eyes, “would start a brawl in a speeding van.”
“That’s ’cause we got balls, son,” Smudge growled back, his forearm jammed against Rhys’s windpipe.
Rhys attempted to ram his knee up into said balls, but Smudge twisted to one side and avoided the blow.
Oh, shit, I am so gonna pay for that!
His teeth bared, Smudge drew back his fist. Rhys closed his eyes, ready for lights-out, when suddenly the van skidded to a stop and the door was wrenched open.
“For Christ’s sake,” Devon snapped. “That’s enough.”
She stood with her hands on her hips as the guys, like so many chastened little boys, disentangled themselves from each other and climbed out, making sure to step on Rhys’s chest as they did so.
Smudge smacked him upside the head before joining them, and they trooped toward the gas station convenience store, laughter and hoots filling the air. Nearby, Matt’s van had disgorged its passengers, too, and they all headed inside.
With a grunt, Rhys peeled himself off the floor. “I had it under control, you know.”
Devon rolled her eyes. “Sure. Seven-on-one is such great odds.”
“Piece of cake.” Rhys eased gingerly from the van, one arm wrapped around his aching ribs. “I deserved it, though.”
“What’d you do?”
Side by side, they ambled toward the little store as Rhys told her about the bar fight.
“I dished it out, so they were seeing if I can also take it.” He grinned. “Team building at its finest.”
Inside the store, the lone clerk behind the counter had a shell-shocked look on her face as sixteen loud, obnoxious men swarmed around her like ants.
“You with these guys, honey?” she called to Devon, who nodded. “What are they, some kind of sports team?”
Rhys bit his lip against a smile, wondering what kind of cover story she’d come up with. Smudge propped his arm on Rhys’s shoulder as he gulped down a Coke. He leaned down to belch loudly in Rhys’s ear.
“Jesus.” Rhys waved away the fumes. “Can’t take you anywhere.” He turned his attention back to the counter just in time to see the woman clap her hand over her mouth.
“Really? You get to see that?”
“Every day,” Devon confirmed. “But, you know, you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all. It’s not that awesome.”
The cashier snorted. “You got that right, honey. I only have one to deal with, and that’s more than enough.”
Devon grabbed up her candy bar and energy drink, and sauntered past Smudge and Rhys with a sly wink. As she did, Smudge reached out and grabbed her elbow. “What did you tell—”
He didn’t even get to the end of the sentence before Devon wrenched away, the unopened can crashing to the floor. Her now-free hand went to the small of her back. Rhys and Smudge froze before the intensity of her glare.
Smudge’s hand still hovered in the air, and he lowered it slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”
Devon made a visible effort to relax. “It’s okay.” Her voice was tight. “Just startled me, that’s all.” When she bent to retrieve her can, the back of her T-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a tiny slice of leather. With a quirk of her lips that didn’t come anywhere close to reaching her eyes, Devon said, “I think I’m just a little on edge after that van brawl. Sorry.”
She turned and walked away.
As she did, Rhys elbowed Smudge. “She’s wearing a concealed knife. Saw the sheath.”
And she was going for it. Instantly. No hesitation.
“Ah.” Smudge ran his hand over his bare skull, his gaze following Devon out the door. “Well, the lady must have her reasons. That was totally my bad.”
Mullet raised his voice to be heard over the din. “Let’s mount up, people. Pay for your shit and let’s go.”
A headache still lurked at the base of Rhys’s skull, so he bought a single-dose pack of ibuprofen and washed the pills down with a Dr. Pepper, welcoming the caffeine and sugar hit. Out at the van, Devon was already ensconced in the driver’s seat.
Rhys pulled open the passenger door. “You mind?” Even though the guys were tired and would probably sleep the rest of the way, Rhys still didn’t trust them not to fuck with him.
Her lips tight, Devon glanced at him. “No.”
With a groan, he hauled himself inside and fastened his seat belt. He kicked his legs out in front of him and leaned back with a sigh. “Thanks.”
It was about a six-hour drive from San Diego to their destination somewhere on the outskirts of Tucson, Arizona. Rhys fully intended to try to sleep, but he found himself watching Devon’s profile through slitted eyes instead.
They all traveled in civilian clothes, so Devon’s thick brown hair was down around her shoulders, and she’d paired her T-shirt with soft, worn jeans. Her face, contoured by the glow of the dashboard lights, held a more relaxed expression, the pinched look all but gone.
She was tapping her fingernails on the steering wheel absently, and Rhys was surprised to see they were done in elegant French tips. His gaze traveled down her tanned, lightly muscled arms. On her left wrist she wore a chunky G-Shock watch; on her right, a couple of jangly bracelets.
Her full lips shone with a light pink gloss, and she had the tiniest of gold hoops in her ears.
She’s really pretty.
He hadn’t noticed that before, since she’d been wrapped head to toe in Kevlar the last time he’d seen her. About to ask what she’d been up to since that infamous mission, Rhys looked out the windshield, only to let out a gasp of horror. “Holy shit!”
Reflexively, he dug his right foot into the floorboard over and over, as if stomping on a brake pedal, but the view didn’t change.
“What?” Devon snapped. “What is it? Don’t scare me like that!”
“Don’t scare you?” Rhys gaped in disbelief at the back of Matt’s van, which was so close to the front of theirs Rhys could probably lean forward and ask the guy sitting in the very last seat to share his peanuts. “Give him a little room!”
To Rhys’s relief, she eased off, but before he could relax, she crept forward again and held just inches off Matt’s bumper.
Rhys dug his fingernails into the armrest and prayed. They were cresting the mountains east of San Diego, which meant a six-percent downgrade to the valley floor. The highway was dark, with sharp, dangerous curves. Signs depicting skidding, tipping trucks were everywhere.
Despite the treacherous road, Devon drove confidently and with seeming ease. She smoothly changed lanes when Matt did, whipping past the slower-moving vehicles. Rhys didn’t know how she could keep such a precise distance between the front of their van and Matt’s bumper, but she did.
When they finally reached the long, flat stretch of open highway, Rhys let out the breath he’d been holding with a whoosh. “Where did you learn to drive like that?”
Devon’s eyes flashed to him, then back to the road. “Ambush Alley.”
It hit him like a punch in the gut
. Of course. They were in a convoy with Matt, and Devon drove like it. In certain areas of a war zone, vehicles drove fast, with only inches between them. Convoy driving was dangerous, and required considerable skill, which Rhys had just witnessed firsthand.
“Well, I’m sorry I doubted you,” he said a little shakily.
“No you’re not.”
When Rhys glanced over at her, he caught her smiling at him. A genuine smile, and one that made her eyes dance with mischief.
All of a sudden he was breathless for an entirely different reason. He cleared his throat. “You’re right, I’m not. You scared the ever-loving shit out of me, I hope you know. It’ll be ages before my balls crawl back out of my body.”
He froze, wondering where the hell that’d come from, but Devon only laughed, a low husky sound that definitely made Rhys’s balls sit up and take notice.
Damn.
“It’s so funny,” she mused, “that people think women in combat is something new. We’ve been in combat since the dawn of time.” Glancing at him, she asked, a distinct challenge in her voice, “How do you feel about women on the teams?”
With no hesitation, he replied, “I’m a hundred percent here for it.” At her skeptical look, he added, “No, really. Meet the standards, do the job. Simple as that.”
Devon chuckled as she changed lanes smoothly once again. “It really is as simple as that, isn’t it? Meet the standards. Do the job.”
“Exactly.”
Completely at ease with her driving now, Rhys stacked his hands behind his head and let out a long, contented sigh. He was starting to drift off when Devon said, “I’m sorry about your fiancée, Rhys.”
About to reply with a semiflippant “Me, too,” it hit him. No one else had given him that short, simple acknowledgment of his pain. Shit, his own dad had railed at him for fucking it up, his SEAL brothers were treating the whole thing with an offhanded amusement, and a lot of his friends had disappeared into thin air, not wanting to take sides.
I’m sorry.
Even coming from a virtual stranger, it was a much-needed kindness that soaked into Rhys’s heart like the coolest, sweetest water.
Keeping a Warrior Page 4
