by Jo Leigh
The briefing, which should have taken a couple of days, was like a Hell Week all its own. He wasn’t used to this shit anymore. Yeah, he could tell you the exact inventory of the bar, but what he had to absorb before they hit Kabul was almost crippling.
To make matters worse, he kept thinking about Cricket. About how she hadn’t said anything about herself in her hard-hitting speech. He still wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. For Adam’s family, for Cricket, or his own redemption.
Topping that off was his lack of confidence that Chopper really was alive. The photo was blurry. And nothing made sense about keeping him alive. Wyatt had a feeling Freeman might be in agreement.
An alarm went off, which got every last man’s and woman’s attention, but it was coming from Kabul, and it was quickly silenced. It had put the whole plane on edge.
When he looked at the screenshots of the target where he’d last carried out a successful mission with his team, it looked eerily the same. They hadn’t been ambushed there. That happened as soon as they got into Sangin, the town the Taliban had since taken over.
He didn’t dare go down that rabbit hole, because he wasn’t sure he could come back out. Instead, he looked at every inch of the target, and after a couple of hours, he realized that something big had changed.
“Commander?”
Freeman joined him, and so did the rest of the group focusing on the rescue. “Those wires weren’t there three years ago. Here.” He pointed out two of the side buildings, close to the squat horror that was a holdout from the eighteenth century where the Taliban held prisoners.
That meant communication was inside the target. The only tech they had last time was in the leader’s hut, on the opposite side of the courtyard from the guards.
Freeman changed the screen to the live feed from Kabul. A lieutenant saluted the commander and called in the SEAL team that Wyatt would be embedded in. Wyatt saw immediately that they were all SEAL veterans from DEVGRU, also known as SEAL Team Six. Every last one of them was well trained in explosives, tech, underwater maneuvers and High Altitude/Low Opening Jumps. They’d all mastered every skill, since there was no guarantee that every man would walk out of a mission.
“How long from approach to wrap-up?”
“Well,” Lieutenant Wheeler, who was their team leader, said, “Osama bin Laden took thirty-eight minutes. We’re not bringing back intel. We should be out in twelve.”
“Be warned,” Freeman said. “Better make it ten or less, because there are more eyes and ears than before.”
“Yeah, we found that out, actually, and the last team that was there a week ago already laid down a pattern of explosives that will take all that juicy tech down and out. Including those in the hut.”
“Roger that.”
“Our welcome ain’t gonna be pretty, but it’ll be damn fast.”
They proceeded to take Wyatt through the drill, every step from taking off in the Black Hawk helicopter, fast-roping down to the roof of the building where three men would set off the series of explosives, while the other four made their way into the target, taking out the guards, then harnessing Chopper to be lifted up via the blown roof. The Black Hawk would then land at the edge of the courtyard, where the rest of the team would evac.
Wyatt could see it in his mind’s eye: all the practice runs, all the maneuvers, the night vision goggles that would turn the world green. He signed off, and didn’t move an inch as the camera returned to overseeing operations.
It was past time he stretched his legs, so he got up and walked the length of the jet. A few doors were locked, not that he tried to open them, but he also shook hands with a number of brothers. And officers, too. But mostly brothers. In the tiny sleep cabin he stretched as much as he could, then worked his muscles with a quick hundred push-ups.
He was lucky he’d stayed in shape. But was it enough? It wasn’t that he felt so out of touch, but these other guys, they were at the top of their game. They knew what they were doing.
Most important of all, he’d made a promise to keep himself safe. And damn, that was a hard pill to swallow.
When he stopped after ten more push-ups, he knew what he had to do. His body had just needed a little action to get his mind working properly. Walking back down to where Freeman was fixing a cup of coffee, Wyatt asked him to take it back with him, so they could have a private conversation.
Closing the door behind him, Freeman didn’t even blink at how closely they stood together.
“I’ve made a decision, sir. I know my strengths and weaknesses and there’s no question I shouldn’t go in with this team. I’d only slow them down. Six is a badass machine that doesn’t need an extra cog. I just gave the men the only intel I could help with. I’m not in sufficient shape, and I’m not mentally prepared for in-country warfare.”
The commander was frowning heavily, but Wyatt wasn’t going to change his mind.
“The only other way I know I can help and not hinder is that after we get Chopper back to base, no matter what his condition, brainwashed or not, I should be the one who debriefs him.”
Freeman, arms crossed over his broad chest, looked at Wyatt’s duffel bag for a long silent couple of minutes. “I don’t know, Earp.”
“Sir, I mean no disrespect, but the first part is nonnegotiable. The second part is up to you.”
The commander looked him square in the eye, then stuck out his hand. “I think that’ll do just fine, Earp.”
* * *
CRICKET LOOKED DOWN at her day planner and there were far too many question marks on too many days. No wonder.
It had been great seeing Ginny, and forgetting, at least for a short while, about her own situation. Her friend was in a really tough spot, and Cricket wasn’t sure she’d been of much help.
Now that she was back at Wyatt’s apartment, though, all she could think about was him.
She couldn’t postpone returning to Chicago yet again, even though that’s what she wanted to do. She simply couldn’t put her whole life on hold indefinitely.
He’d been gone for five days, and every time her phone rang her heart just about stopped. Not that she believed he had any reason to call her. She hadn’t given him one. She hadn’t even told him she loved him.
It wouldn’t have been fair. Logically she knew that, but it still hurt.
Still, she could’ve made a point of asking him to call. She knew he wouldn’t have much opportunity, but dammit, he was a civilian after all.
Becky hadn’t heard from him either, but she didn’t expect to. She’d been awfully kind, trying to calm Cricket down, when she was just as worried herself. Worried and angry, and trying to keep it together for the kids’ sakes. Cricket hated bugging her, but when she’d gotten a weird phone call from a weird number, she’d guessed that it was from a satellite phone. With all the static it had been impossible to tell if it was Wyatt on the other end before the call was cut off. Becky agreed it probably was a satellite phone.
Leaning back in Wyatt’s favorite chair, she caught a glimpse of Josh’s latest Lego project. She smiled first, and then her eyes filled. Wyatt’s apartment felt empty without him, and so did she.
She had to wonder if she wouldn’t be better off staying at the shack. Ronny’s surgery was supposed to be in two weeks, but he’d gotten a summer cold and that had to be gone a couple of days before, or it would have to be rescheduled.
Her mom was being an excellent minder for Ronny, and they continued to enjoy the heck out of each other. Especially now that she’d admitted she and the judge were in the process of getting a divorce. Yesterday when Cricket had stopped at the shack, her mom had confided that she wasn’t sure what she was going to do when Ronny recovered.
Cricket thought she knew the answer, but there was no use getting her hopes up, just because her parents were getting along so well.
The sound of a text
had her straightening. It was just from Sabrina. She was going to be fifteen minutes late. Cricket had been helping out at the bar when she could, but she didn’t know why they all treated her like she was running things.
Unless they knew something she didn’t.
Of course all the customers had a million questions about Wyatt, where he was, what he was doing...and every time she’d dodged one of them she’d gotten the sinking feeling that after jumping back into the action, he’d want to go back to his old life. It wasn’t rational. Maybe it was her brain trying to keep her from dwelling on the danger he’d put himself in. Being in the dark was torturous.
No. She had to believe he would come home. She had no idea what would happen after that. With Wyatt, that was. As for her job? She’d known before he left that she couldn’t stay at the firm. Although it was important to be professional. Anything less would reflect on the judge and her own character, and while she didn’t want to be a part of the rape case, she’d do what she could—without crossing a personal line. She’d given them a month’s notice, and they could decide if it was worth putting her on the defense team. She hoped not, but it was their call.
Once she was in Chicago, she’d put her condo up for sale, and pack up all her things to be shipped back to Temptation Bay. Thank goodness Ronny’s insurance had turned out to be excellent, covering almost everything, so she had some wiggle room.
A couple of other revelations had come to light after she and Victoria had forgiven each other. For one, she’d learned her mom was quite the wise investor and hadn’t plowed through her trust fund as expected. Despite not getting much of anything from the divorce, she was doing quite well.
Another surprise was that Cricket also had a trust fund. Endowed by her grandparents and accessible once she turned thirty-five. Enough that her future would be fine—not extravagant—but fine when she passed the Rhode Island bar and hung out her shingle in Temptation Bay.
She heard a noise outside the door. Not a knock or anything, but even though she felt too drained to get out of her chair, she stood.
The door opened.
Wyatt.
Whole, alive, looking like crap, but still the best sight she’d ever seen.
He saw her and dropped his duffel bag. They crashed into each other as if polarized, holding on so tight they both were breathless.
When he finally kissed her, and kissed her, and when she’d kissed him back, he suddenly stopped. Held her at arm’s length and looked into her eyes. “I shouldn’t have waited. I should’ve told you before—but I’ve never been in love before and I messed up—”
“What?”
“See? Hell,” he murmured, briefly closing his eyes. “Cricket Shaw, I love you. I knew before I left but I swear I’ll make it up to you now and every day. Even if I have to fly to Chicago every damn—”
“You don’t have to,” she said, taking in a gulp of air before kissing him again, reacquainting herself with his taste. He smelled like way more travel than showers, but that didn’t bother her at all.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m moving back here. Back home. I’ll be taking the Rhode Island bar.”
He had the oddest expression. “Where are you planning on staying when you move back?”
“Well, I thought—” She swallowed. Hard. While she screwed up her courage. “I need to ask you something. And I promise there’s no right or wrong answer. Just the truth so I know what to expect.” She took a breath as he nodded. “After being back in your old world, do you have any regrets about leaving the military?”
Shaking his head, he brushed a finger over her lips. “If anything, the experience showed me that I’d made the right decision. I’d already said goodbye to that life. I wish I could have told you sooner, but I was never in real danger. I decided while we were in the air that I wasn’t going to set foot anywhere but Kabul headquarters. The team didn’t really need me. I’d made a promise to Becky, and in my heart, to you. I had to make sure I came home. I had too much to lose.”
Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, she could finally breathe again. “What about Chopper?”
“The mission was successful.” His smile dimmed. “But it wasn’t Chopper after all. It was a German reporter who had been missing for months. No one thought he was alive. So the mission wasn’t a total loss. The man will get to see the wife and kids he never thought he would.”
Cricket nodded. “I’m sorry he wasn’t—” She stopped for a sniffle.
“It’s okay.” He touched her cheek. “I knew it was a long shot and made peace with it before I got on that plane. Look, I’ll still grieve for the men I lost, but now I’ve got a life of my own to live for. I never want to be apart from you again, Cricket. And I missed Becky and the kids way more than I thought possible, so I hope like hell she can forgive me.”
“She and I talked a lot, and I’ve got a feeling she’ll be very forgiving.”
The relief nearly poured off him. “I’ll text her for now, let her know I’m home and with you.” He pulled out his phone, but then just stood there, staring at her as if he’d never seen anything more wonderful in his life.
Cricket couldn’t help it—she burst into tears. “You came back,” she whispered.
“I did. Don’t cry, honey. It’s okay. I’m fine.” He hugged her tight while she wept on his shoulder.
“I know. You’re fine and you love me and—” She shuddered, trying to stop crying, but she couldn’t.
Sweeping her up in his arms again, he carried her into the bathroom. “Want to take a shower with me? You know, while you catch me up on things?”
She laughed, nodded and, while she turned on the water, he sent a text to Becky.
“Oh, God. I love you, too,” Cricket said as soon as he set the phone aside.
“Sounds like that’s a problem,” he said slowly, looking as if he was holding back a grin. “Is it?”
“No, it’s just—I realized that I hadn’t said it out loud.”
“So, I guess we’re both pretty bad at this love business, huh?” he said, as he lifted her shirt off.
Cricket unzipped his jeans. “Guess we’ll have to muddle through it together.”
“That’s my thinking, too.”
“Well, for a start, how about a little more action and less thinking?”
Wyatt laughed. “You got it, sweetheart,” he said and picked her up and put her in shower.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A STRANGER IN THE COVE by Rachel Brimble.
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A Stranger in the Cove
by Rachel Brimble
Chapter One
KATE HARRINGTON’S ENTIRE body trembled with annoyance when the not-so-honorable Mayor Binchy abruptly ended their phone call. She slammed the phone receiver back into its cradle.
The nerve of the man!
She glared around Templeton Cove’s Teenage Support office. It buzzed with activity, her colleagues busy talking on phones or scribbling notes, heedless that dusk fell beyond the plate glass window.
Frustration boiled dangerously inside her. She and the rest of the staff had dedicated every hour possible into making the upcoming fund-raiser a success. Tickets had been selling well for months, and the team was on track for an impressive donation to the local hospital’s new young mother and baby unit.
But how was she meant to impress the three or four major donors to the event in three days’ time if the mayor had deemed the entire day and night a “non-priority”?
Young, unmarried mothers who’d been kicked out of their homes or had found themselves all alone with a baby to care for were a non-priority? Kate ground her teeth. She’d like to make a priority of ramming a red-hot poker up Mayor Binchy’s ass.
“Whoa...” Her colleague Nancy Marshall approached, pushing her glasses up her nose. “What, or who, has put that look on your face?”
Kate scowled. “The look that says I might just wring someone’s neck?”
Nancy nodded. “Uh-huh, exactly.”
Kate tipped her head back and groaned. “This fund-raiser means so much to all of us and I really wanted the mayor to show his support on Saturday.” She dropped her chin and glared. “Is that too much to ask of the man who supposedly champions the town and supports the community? Mayor Binchy is a waste of space if he deems lone mothers a non-priority.”
Nancy’s smile vanished, and she flicked her long black hair over her shoulder. “He said that?” Her eyes widened. “To you?”
“Yep.”
“The man must have a death wish.”
