Storm (Special Forces: Operation Alpha): A Linear Tactical Series Novel

by Janie Crouch

  He studied her with those green eyes that saw way too much sometimes. “I want to help. It has been helping me, too.”

  “It has?”

  He reached down to the water bottles they had on the ground and handed one to her. “In ways I didn’t even know I needed help. In a weird way, it’s been… healing.”

  “I didn’t know you needed help or healing. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own issues. I’m sorry.”

  He gave her a gentle smile, then folded his long legs under him to sit on the ground, patting the space next to him for her to do the same. “You’re keeping your head above water, which is damn impressive. There’s definitely no need to apologize.”

  “I haven’t been a good friend. That’s definitely reason to apologize.”

  He shrugged and took a sip of his water. “My friends would be the first to tell you that I’m not an easy person to be a friend to. I keep things bottled up.”

  “You don’t like to talk to people. You’re an introvert.”

  “I wasn’t always quite so standoffish.” He leaned back against the barn wall. “I was never as outgoing as Tanner, but hell, who’s as charming as Captain Lips?”

  She smiled at the kids’ nickname for Tanner. “Not many.”

  “I wasn’t the same after my time in the Army. I lost three of my men right in front of me in Afghanistan. Suicide bomber.”

  She had no idea what to say to make that any easier. “I’m so sorry.”

  He closed his eyes and took another sip of water, wiping away a little dribble. “I made eye contact with the bomber right before it happened. I knew there was an imminent threat, but I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t fast enough.”

  She wasn’t sure anyone could’ve possibly been fast enough.

  “Two of the guys who died had wives and kids. One of them was on his first tour and was thrilled about turning twenty-one the next week. Finally old enough to drink.”

  “If you were close enough to see it, then you had to be in danger, too.”

  “I would’ve been dead with them except I’d left my sunglasses on the table inside the café. I ran back to grab them and came out just in time to watch my friends get blown to pieces.”

  He was sparing her the gruesome details, but she could see the horror in his eyes. Whatever had happened had been bad. “I’m so sorry.”

  He peeled the label off the water bottle. “I was pretty messed up for a while. If I had been out there, maybe I would’ve noticed the bomber in time to do something about it, instead of the three seconds I had before it happened.”

  “But maybe not. You probably would’ve ended up just as dead as your friends.”

  His mouth moved in a sad half-smile. “That’s what the Army shrink said, too. Survivor’s guilt. I got out of the service not long after. My heart had been calling me back to these mountains for a while. What happened just solidified it.”

  She reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers. “I’m so sorry about your men, but I’m very not sorry you’re alive.”

  She started to let go of his hand, but he entwined his fingers with hers, turning his wrist so he could study her hand. “Working with you has been good for me because it forces me to talk to other beings besides animals.”

  “I even talk back.”

  How good did it feel to have his big strong hand around her much smaller one? To feel the stroke of his thumb against the back of her palm?

  “Teaching you has helped me heal. Mostly, I think, because with you it’s not too late. Maybe danger is coming someday, but we can see it and do something about it. I’m glad you want to do this, and I want to keep going as long as we can.”

  They sat there not saying anything for a long time, her hand lightly resting in his. She liked listening to the background noises of the ranch. It was never totally quiet here. The horses or dogs or the few chickens he had around were always making some sort of sound. She even liked the earthy, animal smell of it.

  “I was so scared that I had to gear myself up for our sessions at first,” she finally said. “Give myself full-on pep talks all the way here.”

  “Scared of me specifically?”

  “No.” It came out louder than it should have. Her face went warm. “No, not you. Just scared in general. I was afraid I would be terrible at this. That you would think I was a lost cause. Too weak to even bother with.”

  He shook his head. “It takes time to change the way we see ourselves. It takes time and conscious effort to undo years of conditioning. And that’s what has happened to you. Conditioning.”

  His thumb stroked across the skin of her hand once more. “You know what the good news is? You can condition yourself out of it. And that’s what you’re doing now. Conditioning your body and mind in a new way while strengthening both.”

  She took a deep breath. “I can feel the difference already.”

  “I can feel a difference in me, too.”

  There was no way of telling him how she had not only stopped having to pep-talk herself for their sessions, but had, in fact, come to look forward to them. How her heart now did something weird, something fluttery whenever they were around each other.

  That scared her in a much different way. She had no business letting her heart flutter over him or any man. There were way too many broken pieces in her that might never get fixed.

  Being brave enough to learn to fight was one thing.

  But being brave enough to learn to trust a man again, show him all the true ugliness she’d lived through?

  She was never going to be that brave.

  8

  The sound of a woman’s sharp breathing and a string of grunts in time with gloved hands hitting the punching bag greeted Noah on his arrival back at his house.

  After three months of working with Marilyn, he would’ve known it was her even if he hadn’t seen her car parked in front of the barn. He knew the rhythm of her breathing when she exerted herself. Damn near dreamed about it.

  Dreamed about the sound of her quiet laugh even more.

  But right now she was definitely not laughing. She was going after Douchebag Jared with more gusto than she had in a while. Noah slowly approached, coming in wide so he wouldn’t take her by surprise.

  Really, she was the one surprising him tonight. This wasn’t one of their usual nights.

  And he would know since he spent the hours beforehand looking forward to seeing her on the days they normally got together for a training session.

  He almost didn’t recognize his smiling face in the mirror. But damn if he didn’t like the guy grinning like any idiot back at him.

  And it wasn’t just Marilyn who brought out his smile. Sometimes she brought those kids along when she didn’t have a sitter back at New Journeys. Or when the kids were feeling a little anxious and needed their mother close by. The trauma they’d been through wasn’t the sort that would be forgotten in a few months, even around friendly faces.

  No sign of the kids tonight, nor of Thing Two, who had been renamed Tromsø when Marilyn and the kids had taken him home a few weeks ago. Evidently, they’d been studying the small town in Norway where thousands of visitors flocked to each year to see the northern lights. Not a traditional name for a pup, but Noah couldn’t say much since he’d named his dog Corfu, after one of the Greek Isles.

  He’d love to take Marilyn and the kids to both Corfu and Tromsø. Take them to all the places they’d ever dreamed of going.

  But right now he just wanted to know what had Marilyn alone in the barn, pounding the hell out of the Douchebag Jared.

  Each blow brought another grunt. She was frustrated, obviously not only from her sounds of fury, but her lack of form. He watched her for a few moments before clearing his throat. “You’re still overworking your arm. Remember, use your hips. Core.”

  She barely paused. She’d known he was there. “Right.”

  Her face was flushed and fine hairs had teased their way out of their ponytail to stick to her sweaty skin
. She kept at it, but at least corrected the errors in her form.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes.” One. Two. She went for the bag’s throat then sternum, just like they’d practiced that first day all those weeks ago. There’d been lots of talks since that night, even a little more hand-holding—the literal and figurative kinds.

  They’d become friends. Close friends. She’d dragged more details out of him about his time in Afghanistan and she’d shared a little more about her life with Ellis.

  “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “Do I look like I want to talk about it?” One. Two. One. Two.

  Okay, then. “You sure don’t. Have at it as long as you need. I’m going to go on inside.”

  He didn’t get far before the hits stopped. “Noah. Wait.”

  He turned around but didn’t step back toward her. “Nobody understands the need to sometimes work stuff out with yourself rather than talk it out better than me. If you want to be alone, I’m not offended.” And really, he wasn’t.

  “I don’t want to be alone. And I’m sorry. I came to your property, uninvited and unannounced, and here I am acting like a bitch.”

  His lips hiked up in a half-smile. “If that’s your definition of being a bitch, you’re going to have to spend more time with Cassandra. My sister really knows how to be a bitch.”

  Marilyn didn’t smile, but at least she didn’t start pounding the bag again. “She’s never a bitch to me.”

  “She saves it all for me and Tanner.” He leaned against the barn door frame, studying her. “You know you’re always welcome here, whether I’m home or not. Sometimes we all need something to punch.”

  She snorted. Her chest still rose and fell rapidly as she caught her breath. “Yeah. I had one of those days.”

  “Offer to talk still stands. So does the ‘leaving you alone so you can pound the shit out of that bag’ offer.”

  She grabbed the hanging bag by both gloved hands and studied the markings of what used to be “Jared’s” head and torso. The markings had long since faded after the many hours of being pounded by her.

  “I had another panic attack today.”

  “Bad one?”

  “Bad enough that I’m pretty sure I nearly scared Bree to death. Fortunately, the kids were outside playing with Tromsø. I was out of it for quite a while. Had a hard time finding my way back.”

  Shit. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them still when all he wanted to do was reach out and pull her into his arms. Protect her from everything, even her own mind.

  “They’re sneaky bastards, those attacks.”

  “I want them over,” she said through clenched teeth. “I thought I was getting stronger. Then today I’m flopping all over the ground like I’m some sort of mental invalid.”

  “You are getting stronger.” He’d said that to her more than once and would continue reaffirming it as often as he needed to. Eventually, it would sink in.

  “Then why did I have an attack? Why won’t they go away?” She hit the bag with the end of her hand, a gesture that had less to do with fighting and more with frustration. “Nothing I do is enough. It’ll never be enough. I’ll never be strong enough.”

  He swallowed the bitter rage inside him that someone as sweet and gentle as Marilyn would have to fight off so much ugliness and pain. He wanted, not for the first time, to get his hands on Jared Ellis.

  But hell if he was going to stand here and let her think she was weak. Not when he knew the truth. He wanted to hold her but if he couldn’t do that, he could at least prove to her how far she’d come.

  “Let’s spar. For real.” He slid his arms out of his jacket and threw it over a stall door. His jeans and Henley weren’t optimal for this sort of movement, but it would be fine. He grabbed his own pair of thin, half-fingered sparring gloves.

  She looked at him from around the bag. “What?”

  “You think you’re weak? Haven’t made any progress? Let’s see. I’ll be hitting and you will, too. There’s only so much satisfaction you can get out of punching a bag.”

  He held his arms up, still relaxed but falling into a sparring stance. “Come on. Take it out on me.”

  “I could never take it out on you.”

  He held her gaze. “How about you stop saying never. The only thing limiting you, is you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re just trying to make me mad.”

  “No, gorgeous, I’m just trying to make you see the truth.” He lowered his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Don’t hold back. Don’t be afraid to hurt me.”

  They’d sparred before, but as exercises in muscle memory more than anything else. Not like this.

  She threw a one-two self-defense combination punch. It was nowhere near what he knew she was capable of. “You can do better than that.”

  “Noah…”

  “Do it. Throw a real punch.” When she still hesitated, he reached out and slapped one of her raised gloved fists. “Quit making excuses and do it.”

  Her brows knitted together. She put real force behind the next punch and the one after that. He easily blocked her but noted the power she was using. Good. “Better. But not nearly your best.”

  They fell into a slow, wary dance. His arm shot out. She blocked the blow, then delivered a return shot to his abdomen. “Nice.”

  “You know…” She struck. He blocked. “If I’m going to fight, then you need to fight, too. Don’t baby me.”

  “Baby you?” He threw two quick jabs to her head that she blocked with a high guard, lifting her elbow to protect her face. “Gorgeous, I haven’t babied you in weeks. Months, even.”

  She dropped her arms to look at him. “Really?”

  “Come on. Get those arms back up. We aren’t finished yet.” He feinted a jab to make her comply. “You don’t see it because you’re on the inside looking out, but I have the luxury of studying your progression from the outside. I see how much stronger you’ve become. I stopped holding back a while ago, and I’ve gotten tougher on you with every session.”

  He threw a haymaker, hard enough to daze her if it connected, but watched as she rounded her arm around her head in a helmet guard.

  It said a shit ton about her training that he wasn’t able to get that punch in, but as promised, he didn’t take it easy on her. He took advantage of her being off-balance and raised a leg to kick hers out from under her.

  Instead, she grasped his ankle before he could make contact and shoved him backward. He stumbled and almost fell.

  He grinned. “See? I wasn’t holding back. You almost knocked me on my ass.”

  She shook her head, looking as dazed as if she’d taken a punch. “Wow. I just… reacted. I didn’t think.”

  “Your body did the thinking for you. That’s what your hard work has led to.” He let his arms drop, looking her up and down with a smile. “You get stronger every day, even if you don’t see it. And you have at least five years before Jared can breathe air as a free man. By then, you’ll know everything you need to know about protecting yourself.”

  She considered his words and nodded. Finally, she was starting to believe him. “You’re right. Come on.” She motioned for him to come at her again with fingers sticking out of the sparring gloves.

  “Getting a big head now, huh?” He smirked, loving her sexy self-confidence as they circled each other. “Let me know if you need to rest.”

  No sooner had he gotten the words out of his mouth than Marilyn’s fist shot out and made contact with his gut. He grunted slightly then stepped back, using his longer limbs to his advantage.

  He wasn’t fighting full-out, neither of them were, but they weren’t just practicing, either. He came at her blow after blow, quick and calculated, forcing her to think about everything. Her stance, balance, focus. She didn’t let him get a solid hit in and parried with blows of her own.

  He had an advantage since he hadn’t already been working on the punching bag for God knows
how long before they started. She was getting tired, but his feisty little warrior kept going.

  He was about to call for a break when she threw a combo punch to his mid-section. He blocked it, then pulled his arms back up to block the right jab she favored. They’d have to work on—

  She caught him with a left hook, mid-thought.

  Blindsiding him wasn’t an easy thing to do. Soldiers with years of fighting hadn’t been able to do it. But she did it. Her gloved fist connected with his chin from a powerful blow he hadn’t even seen coming. He staggered back against the wall, a little dazed.

  “Holy shit.” He reached up to rub his jaw. That was going to leave a mark.

  She immediately fell out of her fighting stance, ripping off her gloves as she ran to his side. “Oh my God. Noah, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t—”

  He held up a hand, pressing his fingers to her lips before tapping her chin with the padding of his gloves, the way she’d done to him but much gentler. “Don’t apologize. What you just did was sexy as hell.”

  “What? I hit you!”

  “You saw an opening and you went for it and it was amazing. Your left hook is a thing of beauty.” He let his thumb trace her jaw, her chin. “You’re a thing of beauty.”

  He reached over and pulled the velcro from his gloves and slid them off. Maybe she’d just knocked all the sense out of him, but he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath.

  He hooked a finger under her chin, eyes searching for any hint of apprehension. Doubt. Fear. Ready to pull back if he saw any of those things.

  All he saw was her pretty face coming at him as she pushed him farther back against the wall and pressed her lips to his.

  9

  God, a man as strong and rugged as Noah shouldn’t have lips that were so soft and full. The two of them together like this shouldn’t be sexy at all. They were hot and sweaty and…