Second Chance Temptation

by Elizabeth Lennox

  Cynthia sighed, looking away to hide her face. “I guess I’m finally getting over a guy,” she replied, though that didn’t feel like the whole truth. Really, the best Cynthia could claim was that she was learning to live without Ryan.

  Eve nodded. “I suspected it was something like that. I mean, you don’t even acknowledge the guys around here and they’re drooling over you.”

  Cynthia rolled her eyes. “It’s you they are panting after,” she argued. She lifted the blind from the ticket booth window, indicating that ticket sales were ready to begin.

  For the next several hours, Cynthia and Eve advised the guests of the ski resort on the best tickets to purchase for their visit. As the morning passed, the flow of guests slowed to a trickle and they were able to relax a bit. There were still stragglers, but not the long line that built up right before opening. There would be another rush right before dinner when the night skiers arrived.

  When it was time to head back home and go back to school, Eve and Cynthia came up with a plan.

  “Okay, so as soon as you get home, find out if you can spend the summer in Colorado with me.”

  Eve hesitated. “Are you sure there’s enough work at your mom’s bar that I won’t be a burden?” she asked uncertainly, ignoring the call of the bus driver as she gave Cynthia another hug.

  “I’m positive!” Cynthia assured her friend. “Now go! Or your bus will leave without you. Text me as soon as you get home, okay?”

  “Will do. And you be careful on the drive back to Colorado!”

  “Don’t worry. It’s an easy drive from Wyoming to Colorado,” she lied. It wasn’t an easy drive. It was long and tedious driving through the mountains. But she didn’t want her friend to worry.

  Over the next several months, Cynthia and Eve texted or phoned just about every day. Their friendship grew and they laughed and discussed the issues they faced in school, boys, and the tedium of their jobs. So when Eve showed up in June at The Bull Frog, the name she and her mother had come up with to name the bar, Cynthia and Eve immediately took up where their friendship ended. Eve knew all about Ryan and supported Cynthia during her heartache. And Cynthia understood about Eve’s obsession with taking pictures and taught her the basics of hiking, showing her various places along the easier trails where she could take some good photos.

  Cynthia’s mother became Eve’s second mother. So when Mona decided to move from Colorado to Florida and go back into teaching, Eve was there to help Mona pack up. The three of them loaded up a rental van and drove to Florida together, and spent a week unloading and helping “Aunt Mona” settle in to her new home.

  Chapter 8

  Years later…

  Ryan stared blankly out at the mountain peaks, contemplating life. It was beautiful here. Beautiful and dangerous. More dangerous than one might realize if one was admiring this particular mountain from a distance.

  “You need to get out of here.”

  Ryan glanced down at the man lying at his feet. “Shut up,” he muttered, then looked back up, scanning the mountains again.

  The growl warned Ryan that his comment hadn’t been well received. “Dalton, get the hell out of here! That’s an order!”

  Ryan chuckled. “Sir, I know you’re pissed off that your wife filed for divorce,” he said to his commanding officer, “but trying to die out here in this stupid pile of rocks isn’t the way to get back at her.”

  Mick rolled his eyes. Or tried to. Either way, it didn’t matter because Ryan was back to scanning the mountains for terrorists. He knew that the bad guys were out here somewhere and the commander’s moaning wasn’t helping his concentration. The man wasn’t going to die. Not today! Not on his watch!

  “I gave you a direct order! Complete your mission and forget about me. This wound is going to kill me and I won’t allow you to jeopardize the mission simply because I didn’t duck fast enough! Get the files and get the hell out of here!”

  Ryan ignored him, searching for insurgents. After years of wandering through the Rockies during his high school days, there wasn’t much that could surprise him on a mountaintop. He knew how to climb faster than a mountain goat and could run faster than anyone on his SEAL team.

  Right now, stealth was more important. Not giving their position away was his top priority. Getting his commanding officer back in one piece was his second. And accomplishing the mission was a distant third. Probably not the right order, but he didn’t give a damn at this point.

  Nothing on this mission had gone right. Somehow, the enemy had known they were coming and had booby-trapped the stupid path in to the enemy camp. Commander Mick Hanson had been the first in and had gotten the worst of it, but none of the men on his SEAL team had come through unscathed. The burning, seeping knife wound on Ryan’s right side told him that he needed to hurry up and get this job done, or there was going to be an issue. Shock caused by blood loss was just as bad as a bullet wound, he knew. Besides, his CO was looking pretty bad. The bullet to his shoulder had done some real damage. The knife wound to Commander Hanson’s leg was even worse and was causing most of the blood loss at the moment. It also meant his CO wouldn’t be able to hotfoot it out of this tango-infested cesspool.

  No matter, Ryan told himself. They’d been in worse situations and come out alive. In the four years he’d been a Navy SEAL, Ryan had gotten through situations that should have killed him, but through stealth and training and a whole lotta dumb luck, they’d gotten back to the ship alive.

  For the first three years, Ryan had loved this stuff. Going into dangerous situations, beating the odds, and coming out alive had been a thrill! The adrenaline rush had almost been better than holding Cynthia in his arms.

  But lately, he’d been a bit irritated with the constant danger. No longer did the danger create that sense of euphoria. Instead, it just pissed him off.

  A good soldier knew when to get out before his irritation killed him. Ryan had reached that point. He wasn’t a lifer, like his friends. These SEALs were crazy and brave, had good hearts and a tenacious determination that knew how to do things that an ordinary person couldn’t even imagine doing. And these men did it on an almost daily basis.

  “Dalton!”

  With a softly soothing voice, or the most soothing voice he could muster in the sweltering heat and with his aching side, he tutted his commanding officer. “Sir, you’re making too much noise. Are you trying to get us killed?”

  Hanson pressed his lips together, obviously furious. But he kept quiet, even as he tried to shift on the rocks. Ryan suspected that his CO would absolutely love to stand up and deck Ryan just about now. Thankfully, the normally unstoppable guy was unable to move without Ryan’s help.

  “Thank you, sir. Now, if you’d just…” he paused, spotting an insurgent off in the distance. Ryan stopped speaking, took aim and…fired only moments before the other guy spotted him. The tango had been lifting his gun, ready to fire directly at their position. The single shot took care of that threat.

  Ryan came right back to his original thought. “If you’d just wait here a moment, I’m going to sneak into that cave and get a few items that might be helpful.”

  He stood up and heard his CO mutter, “I’ll just be here pretending to be a rock. Don’t worry about me, or my wrath when we finally get out of this. No need to…”

  “Sir!” Ryan interrupted.

  “What?” Hanson snapped, his dark eyebrows lowering over his muddy, sweaty face.

  “Shut. Up!” Ryan hissed. And then he was gone.

  The team’s mission was to infiltrate a cave out in the middle of this forsaken desert. The current temperature was about one hundred and thirty degrees. Add in the protective camouflage uniform as well as about fifty pounds of gear, and this was Ryan’s personal definition of hell. Pushing the heat out of his mind, he pushed his sunglasses higher up his nose. They were made out of special material that didn’t reflect the sunlight, so they wouldn’t give away his position but protected his eyes from the intense gl
are of the desert sun, allowing him to scan the area more effectively. Keeping low, he worked his way slowly down the rocky mountainside. Step by step, he scanned the horizon.

  “Anything?” he whispered into his microphone.

  “All clear,” came the immediate and reassuring response. This was from their team’s executive officer, Lieutenant Caleb Wilson, who didn’t mess around. The man never smiled. Ever! He was serious about everything, but he was a man the team could count on. He was a genius at strategy and tactics, thought quickly on his feet and, more often than anyone cared to count, had saved the lives of his team.

  From the left, he saw “Fingers” coming towards the mouth of the cave. Fingers was actually Derick Mueller, a boy-wonder at computers. He’d joined the Navy instead of going to jail after hacking into one too many secure, government systems. Even he’d been surprised at how much he loved being a SEAL. It was probably because the Navy not only allowed, but encouraged him to break into enemy computer systems, steal information, and get out before anyone knew that his fingers had hacked into their databases. He was like a kid in a candy shop when tasked with anything computer related.

  To his right, Gunner Marks inched closer, searching for additional enemies.

  “All clear,” Lieutenant Wilson stated.

  Wilson and Gunner stood watch while Ryan went into the cave with Fingers.

  “Do your stuff,” Ryan ordered.

  “Yes, sir!” Fingers replied, rubbing his hands together with glee. He sat down on the now-vacant chair, surveying the impressive computer system that had been set up in this cave. How the enemy had gotten this stuff inside the cave, no one would ever know.

  Ryan stood watch for several minutes, even though Wilson and Gunner were standing just outside the mouth of the cave, also standing watch. They’d stop anyone trying to interfere. But Ryan wasn’t letting his guard down. Not until they were out of this mess and safe.

  “What have you found?” Ryan asked.

  There was clattering from the keyboard but Ryan didn’t turn around to watch “Fingers” work. Whatever he was doing would be a mystery to Ryan anyway. No need to look at something he wouldn’t understand. But then there was a pause. “Sir, this looks weird. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to download all of it so I can figure it out later.”

  Through their microphones, they both heard Hanson say, “Just compile all the information on that special drive and get out of there. Andrea will figure everything out when you send it to her tonight.”

  For a split second, everyone paused, waiting for…

  “Just hurry up!” Wilson growled. The rest of the team chuckled at the expected frustration. Wilson never smiled and any mention of the very lively, extremely vivacious Andrea had him on edge. Andrea was the team’s analyst back in Norfolk, Virginia, who loved delving into data. Andrea and Lieutenant Wilson clashed so predictably that the team now brought popcorn to watch their arguments. Their fights were entertaining and hilarious. Although, God help anyone on the team if he ever realized what they were doing. Wilson was in charge of their physical training and the team’s days at home were already a challenge. Wilson would push the team even harder if he ever discovered that the team enjoyed watching his arguments with Andrea.

  An issue for another time, Ryan thought, the smile fading as he noticed some papers in the corner of the cave. “What the hell is this?” he muttered. He picked up the papers, but they were written in Arabic. So, he stuffed them into his pocket and resumed his vigilance.

  “Status?” he called out.

  “Thirty seconds,” Fingers replied immediately.

  There was a long silence as Fingers finished up. “’Done. Gunner, all yours.” Ryan and Fingers backed out of the cave and Gunner moved in. Gunner was an explosives expert and would finish off the mission.

  It took Gunner less than three minutes to set the explosives. “I’m finished here,” he called out through the radios.

  A moment later, he appeared at the mouth of the cave. The team moved back away from the cave.

  “I have to pick something up,” Ryan called.

  Gunner snorted. “Sir, I can guarantee that anything you left on top of that mountain isn’t worth retrieving. We need to get outta here.”

  Ryan grunted and raced back up the rocks. “Just cover me,” he ordered.

  Ryan didn’t waste time. He moved as fast as he could, thinking about the trees, snow, and soft, thick dirt of his beloved Rocky Mountains.

  “Okay, sir," he said as he reached the CO. But Commander Hanson had passed out from blood loss or pain…or both. Ryan bent down, pulled Hanson’s arm around his head and hefted him onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He balanced Mack carefully, and pressed the button on his radio. “Cover me on the way down,” he instructed.

  It took a lot longer to get down the mountain. Ryan’s footing was less steady with a six foot, three inch, massively muscular, two hundred plus pound man and all of his equipment on his shoulders.

  “I see that I was wrong,” Gunner teased. “I guess our CO is worth the retrieval time.”

  Fingers chuckled. “I think a picture is in order,” he pulled his cell phone out, snapping a photo of Hanson draped over Ryan’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m going to get extra duty for this one,” he chuckled as he tucked the phone back into his pocket.

  “Count on it,” Wilson growled. “Let’s go!”

  Everyone moved, slower this time in order for Ryan to keep within the group. They were even more vigilant now, but their pace was still faster than most people could have managed.

  Wilson hit his microphone again. “Bulldog, we’re coming your way. What’s your status?”

  Nathan Jacoby, called Bulldog for some odd reason that Ryan couldn’t remember, replied. “On your six. Coming to scoop ya’ll up.”

  In the distance, they could see a plume of dust heading their way.

  It wasn’t until they were in the truck, Commander Hanson on the floor, that they breathed a sigh of relief. No one relaxed though. Lieutenant Wilson started field first aid on their commander, but everyone knew that they were on their way to a more advanced medical facility. Wilson called ahead, alerting the rest of the team of the medical emergency while everyone else silently prayed for help. Every man on that truck knew that wounds such as what Hanson received were severe.

  The welcome thumping of a helicopter was finally heard in the distance. Moments later, the helicopter landed on the road in front of them. Everyone bailed from the truck and jumped onto the helicopter, carefully loading Commander Hanson.

  Thirty minutes later, the helo landed on the deck of the ship and the commander was quickly taken into surgery on the Naval ship where they’d began the mission, forty-three hours earlier.

  Showers and food, in that order, Ryan thought as he made his way down the narrow hallway to the bunk where the rest of his team waited for news. The shower revived him only slightly. As he sat down to eat, he made a decision. He had to go back. His contract with the Navy was up in a few months and he’d assumed that he’d sign up for another four years. But no. This was it. He knew that he no longer had the desire or the ambition for this type of life. The danger wasn’t as interesting anymore. He wanted…he wanted to know that he would wake up alive the following day. Never a guarantee, but this life brought that possibility into question more often than not.

  So, what should he do instead? He had a degree in political science, but that wouldn’t really help him much in Colorado, where he wanted to live. So what then? What could he do with his life? What would make him whole?

  Besides Cynthia, he admonished as soon as her soft, blond hair flashed into his mind.

  So, why not find out what she was doing? And having thought of that, why not do something in the mountains? Surely there were jobs there that he was qualified for.

  Time to do a bit of research.

  Before he had a chance to take his first bite, Lieutenant Wilson sat down across from him, his own plate piled high
with food.

  “You disobeyed a direct order,” Wilson began, glaring at Ryan across the table.

  Ryan nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

  Wilson was a military man right down to his toenails. The military was his life, his religion. He was a great SEAL, never asking his men to do something he wasn’t willing to do, and usually going further to protect his team and get the mission accomplished. Wilson looked to the right and left, then down at his food.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled. Then glared right into Ryan’s eyes. “Don’t ever do it again.”

  And that was the end of the conversation. They discussed the debriefing meeting scheduled for an hour from now, grumbled about how they’d prefer to sleep for the next twelve hours. They finished their meal, brought their empty plates to the kitchen clean up area, and headed to the debriefing room.

  The whole time, Ryan considered various career ideas, but nothing really appealed to him.

  He was just about to fall asleep in his bunk when he got a message from a college buddy, Mack Jones. Mack Jones had hired onto the sheriff’s department for Minneville recently, and sent Ryan updates about the town and residents. Ryan had never specifically asked about Cynthia, but Mack was nothing if not thorough and mentioned the beautiful blond several times. Thankfully, Mack never dated anyone from town, not wanting the gossip.

  But the news that Mack conveyed this time caused Ryan’s fatigue to disappear in an instant. “Damn, that’s perfect!”

  “National Park Service,” he read aloud. “Park Ranger.” He chuckled softly. “I’ll be catching Yogi Bear and stopping him from stealing picnic baskets. Sounds perfect! A life in the mountains, relaxing among the pretty tourists…what more could a man ask for?”

  Even after all these years, his first thought was about Cynthia. He wondered if she was still living in Minneville, still running that run-down bar her father had almost killed with stupid mismanagement. Did she ever think about him? Did she regret pushing him away?

  He really wanted to find out.