by Sabrina York
He should have woken her with a kiss and thanked her for that lovely night and gently explained his vow and his reasons for it, instead of bleating it out like a sheep. No wonder her feelings had been hurt.
The sight of tears on her cheeks had killed him. Never in his life had he felt more inept than when seeing her cry.
But the real horror? The cold wave washing through his gut? When her expression had gone stony and her lips pursed and she said…
What had she said?
“You’re a coward.”
He shuddered.
Yeah. Pretty fucking heinous.
Though he had to admit, it was probably true.
Even that hadn’t hurt as much as what she said next.
“I don’t have any use for cowardly men.”
He comforted himself with the fact she’d said he was gorgeous. And funny. Smart. Good in bed. He’d really liked that one.
But she had no use for him.
He shouldn’t feel devastated. It was what he wanted.
Wasn’t it?
To protect her from a danger no one could predict? To protect her from…the call?
The day the call had come about his father was burned on his brain. He’d never heard a woman wail the way his mother wailed. Never seen a human being crumble. He still woke up at night sometimes in the cold clutch of that memory.
The image of Lily getting such a call, screaming to the heavens and pounding her fist on the countertop, was untenable. The thought of Lily losing her bright spirit and slipping into the darkness raked his soul. When grief was too much to bear, sometimes people did desperate things.
Stone had been the one to find his mother three days later. He’d been a boy. Fifteen. He’d never seen so much blood; the bathroom was drenched in it. Thank God he’d come home from school early. Thank God he’d found her in time.
Thank God she’d been able to get the help she needed to deal with her anguish. But she had never been the same. Not really.
He would do anything, give anything, to protect Lily from that.
Because, damn it all to hell, he loved her.
Somehow she’d snuck in under all his defenses. Snuck in like a stealth warrior and buried her talons deep in his heart.
It was going to be hell walking away from her, but at least he had his memories of last night to keep him warm in the cold nights ahead.
It was for the best.
She’d move on. Find some guy she did have use for.
Marry him. Have babies.
Never get the call.
She deserved a better life than he could give her. Stone tried not to let that thought burn him alive.
He glanced down at her as they emerged from the trees onto the beach. The sun was just starting to rise and the soft light licked her features and glimmered off her hair.
So beautiful. So precious.
The best thing he could do for her was give her up. And as hard as it would be, it would be worth it.
Because she’d be happy. She’d be safe. And—
The bullet hit him with no warning, slamming into his chest with a bone-breaking smack. He flew back, dimly registering Lily’s cry and the bellow of an approaching pirate.
Fuck! he railed at himself. He should have been paying more attention. His body armor had stopped the round, but pain snarled through his shoulder; his right arm was numb. He tried to grasp his weapon but couldn’t close on it. Fear for Lily’s safety whipped through him like a cold wind.
He looked over to where she had been and saw her backing into the woods.
Good girl, he thought. With any luck, they hadn’t seen her. Or at the very least, he could buy her some time to escape. At any rate, she would need help.
With his left hand he pulled out the canister and flipped the lid, sending a plume of red smoke up into the air—red for distress. The extraction team should be out, watching for it, and they could whip in and save her.
As for him? He was helpless as a babe. He couldn’t even reach his grenades.
Sand sprayed his face as a skinny, bedraggled pirate skidded to a halt over him, pointing an old AK-47 at him and screaming in Somali.
Stone had stared down the barrel of a rifle before, but he’d never been so certain that this was it.
This was the moment. This was the time he’d expected and prepared for since the day he’d joined up.
This was the day he was going to die.
His only regret was that Lily, sweet Lily, would witness it.
Chapter Ten
Horror curled through Lily as a shot rang out and Stone fell. It must have been pure instinct that sent her scrambling for the bushes, because her brain had simply stopped working.
She found herself hunkered low with her rifle held up, and no memory of moving at all.
The pirate, a man she recognized from the boat but hadn’t seen since, ran down the beach toward Stone’s prone form. Revulsion rose in her throat as he lifted his rifle and snarled something in a language she didn’t understand. She could tell from his stance, from the angle of the weapon, he intended to shoot Stone in the head.
Oh no. Hell no.
The thought of losing him—like this—was beyond contemplation.
Though she’d never used a rifle before, though she’d never sighted one or pulled a trigger, she sucked in a breath and aimed. This weapon had misfired before. She hoped to God it wouldn’t do so again.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she pulled the trigger.
The retort was deafening, or maybe that was the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears. The impact knocked her back as the butt slammed into her shoulder.
She scrabbled back up and peered out at the beach, every nerve humming.
A plume of red smoke obscured the scene—but then the wind shifted and it cleared. The pirate was on the sand, next to Stone. But the shot had been so deafening, Lily didn’t know if she and the pirate had shot at the same time…and Stone was so still. Dreadfully still. She dropped her pack and the rifle and sprinted onto the beach.
Her heart clenched as she collapsed at Stone’s side. His eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving. With all his gear, it was impossible to check for a chest rise.
Terror settled like a cold cloud on her soul. “Stone!” she bellowed, shaking his shoulder. To her relief, his lashes fluttered, and then opened.
“Lily,” he croaked. His lips tweaked.
“Oh, you’d better be okay,” she muttered. “If you were hurt, I’d kill you.”
For some reason, this made him laugh. He glanced over at the pirate. “You shot him?” he groaned as he sat up.
“I think so.” She hadn’t looked. Kind of didn’t want to know. She’d never shot a person before. “I closed my eyes.”
He snorted. “You closed your eyes?”
“Mmm hmm.”
He leaned over and checked the pirate’s face. “Oh, yeah. You got him.” But when she moved to check for herself, he held her back. “You…don’t want to see.”
Probably not.
“Do you think he was alone?” she asked, scanning the beach. She saw nothing. Nothing but the gently shushing waves, the palms waving in the breeze, and the shimmer of a deserted beach reaching into the distance.
“Probably a lone scout,” Stone said. “I don’t see anyone else.” Still, he reached for his rifle and held it at the ready.
Reaction set in and Lily shivered. Her pulse still throbbed in her temple and her skin was clammy. The gush of relief that he wasn’t hurt made her dizzy. “Oh, Stone, I was so scared. Normally I would never shoot someone—”
“Normally?” He chuckled.
“But he was going to hurt you.”
“Yes. He was. Thank you very much for saving me.”
“Well,” she said with a huff, a sudden heat crawling up her cheeks. “You saved me. More than once.”
The wind changed and the cloud of smoke blew back over them. Lily waved her hand in front of her face and coughed. “What is that?”
>
“A marker. So the chopper can find us.”
And even as he said it, she heard a distant, rhythmic thrum.
Was it wrong to be so swamped with regret? That this was over? That soon, they could no longer be together? That she would probably never see him again?
She didn’t think. Didn’t bother to consider her actions. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. He sifted his fingers through her hair and held her there as he returned the kiss.
“I understand,” she said as she lifted her head. “I understand why you feel so strongly about keeping yourself detached.”
“Lily—”
She didn’t allow him to interrupt. This needed to be said. “But Stone, if you ever change your mind, if you ever decide you do want something more, please think of me. Find me. I would take it all, I would take anything…for you.”
His eyes glimmered as he stared at her. His lips worked, but he said nothing.
“Although,” she said, “I cannot imagine anything worse than watching you be gunned down on a beach.”
“That was nothing,” he muttered. “A scratch.”
“It was a bullet.” She touched the lump of metal nested in his vest, so close to his heart.
He winced.
“Does it hurt?”
“Damn right it hurts.”
“But you’re wearing armor.”
“It still hurts like hell.”
She smacked his shoulder.
“Ow.” He frowned. “What was that for?”
“You should have told me that when I was wearing it. Here I thought I was all safe and everything.”
“You were safe.” He glanced up at the chopper coming in to land just down the beach. Sand and water sprayed them. “You are safe. I would never let anything happen to you. Lily…” His throat worked.
“Yes, Stone?”
“I… I would die if anything happened to you.”
She wondered at that pause, but only for a moment. There was hardly any time left. She didn’t waste a second.
She kissed him again.
* * *
That there was a woman—a hostage, no less—kissing Stone as the Zipperhead Twins jogged down the ramp of the Chinook was not lost on them. Stone saw it in their shit-eating grins. Garrett opened his mouth to say something as he helped Stone to his feet and wrapped an arm around him, but before he could say anything, Stone growled at him to shut up.
Luke snorted and clapped him on the chest. Stone flinched.
“Be careful!” Lily barked.
Garrett fixed her with a bemused look. “Ma’am?”
Lily set her fists on her hips. Her glower was terrifying. Also, adorable. “He’s been shot. Do be careful.”
“Have you been shot, Stone?” Luke asked.
Garrett smirked as he led Stone to the chopper. Luke followed with Lily, so hopefully she didn’t hear his murmured, “Did widdle Ryder get shot by a mean bullet?”
“Fuck off, Garrett.”
“Who’s Ryder?”
Shit. Stone nearly groaned aloud. She had heard. “I’m Ryder,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Ryder?”
“Ryder Maddox, ma’am,” Luke said. His expression made his meaning clear. You should know the name of the man whose face you were just sucking on.
Lily frowned. “But you said your name was Stone.”
“I said people call me Stone.” And hell. He should have told her his real name. At least before making love…
“Because he’s stone cold.” Yeah. He should smack Garrett.
Stone forced a smile. “And hard. A terrible pillow.” This he said for her ears alone, but the others heard. They hooted with laughter. Lily assaulted them with a scorching rain of fire. Or it could have been a glare. Either way, they both cringed.
They were smart, those two. They knew when to cringe.
“You want to get into the chopper, ma’am?” Luke asked with only a tiny hint of sarcasm. “We would very much like to rescue you.”
The look she sent him would freeze ice. But she did climb in, slapping away Luke’s hands when he tried to help.
Stone clambered into the Chinook, nodded to the other troops, who’d come along as backup, and dropped into his seat with an oof. Lily sat next to him and he fit a headset on her. It took a while because his grip was iffy. The nerves on his right side were still screaming.
Luke bounded aboard and gave the signal to take off. He and Garrett popped on their headsets too. The headsets were necessary for conversations in the loud chopper, but the problem was, everyone heard everything. There was no privacy. No whispered conversations. No chance to talk to her without these two yahoos—and every man aboard—hearing every word. So Stone didn’t speak. They all sat silently, glaring at each other as the chopper rose, turned, and skimmed over the sparkling sea.
“Where’s your brain bucket?” Luke asked.
“Lost it,” Stone grumbled. “Along with coms. The first night.”
“Yeah. That was a cluster—” Garrett glanced at Lily and choked on the words. He cleared his throat and finished with a lame, “Charlie Foxtrot.”
“No shit,” Luke muttered.
A clusterfuck for sure. It was a relief to be out. A relief to know Lily was safe. But Stone burned to know more. He wasn’t used to being in the dark. He shot a sharp glance at Garrett and Luke. “And the team? Everyone safe?”
It was disconcerting the way they didn’t answer. The way they met each other’s gazes and pressed their lips together.
Stone’s heart lurched. “Drake?”
Garrett looked away. Luke swallowed. “We lost Zack.”
Goose bumps prickled his nape. “I know that. What about Drake?”
“Tate took a hit. And Mason got a little dinged up. But they’re okay.”
Why weren’t they answering him?
Well, hell. He knew why. Because the answer was bad. Real bad. His blood went cold. “What. About. Drake?”
He probably shouldn’t have snarled. There was a lady present. But these two fuckwads were getting on his last nerve. If anything had happened to Drake, he didn’t know what he would do. How would his mom take it? Christ. It would kill her. Drake was her baby, her only son, her golden boy. Her—
Lily set her hand on his and squeezed. Garrett and Luke didn’t miss that either. But at least they didn’t smirk or make some lame comment that might earn them a fist in the kisser. He was not in the mood for lame comments at the moment.
Garrett’s lashes flickered. “We, ah, don’t know what has happened to Drake.”
“You don’t know?” Pain rose in Stone’s chest, squeezing his oxygen supply off. His head went light.
“Last report we had, he and one of the hostages were headed up the beach for the extraction point. He’d been hit in the leg and was going slow. And then…” Garrett glanced at Luke.
“And then…?”
“Coms cut out.”
Hell.
Goddamn coms.
“He missed the pick-up.”
“And his GPS?”
“Shows he’s still on the other island. He hasn’t moved for several hours.”
Shit.
“Are we going in?” Why did he need to ask? Of course they were going in. “Is a team prepared?”
Luke made a face. “The brass has been trying to negotiate with the pirates.”
Goddamn brass. They should just let them go in and do their jobs. Why the fuck were they negotiating? Drake was still in enemy territory. He clenched his jaw.
Lily’s hold on his hand tightened. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered.
Yeah. For her it would be—and thank God for that.
But for him, the outcome was unclear.
Drake was in danger. For all Stone knew, he could be dead.
* * *
By the time the chopper landed on the deck of the USS Sierra Nevada, Stone was in a wad. He whipped off his headset and grabbed Lily’s arm, helping her off the craft and guid
ing her belowdecks to the war room without a word.
He was torn. On the one hand, their precious time together was running out and he wanted nothing more than to hold her, maybe kiss her again. Though with his job, they couldn’t be together the way she wanted, the way she deserved, at the very least he should offer her a sweet farewell—something that would make her remember him long after they’d parted. But he was incapable of that.
Because—on the other hand—he churned with agitation to finish this mission. His warrior instincts were on high alert. He needed to find Brandywine and Harper and give them a debrief…and fucking convince them to go in for an extraction now. SEALs did not leave a man behind. Ever.
That this man was Drake ate at him. Bile churned in his belly.
The pirates had lost most of their hostages and, if the counts he’d gotten from Garrett were correct, a lot of their men. Men who’d lost a lot tended to be desperate. The longer Drake was in the fire, the more dangerous the situation could become.
If he had to choose one thing to focus on, it had to be the mission. Still, he towed Lily along because the brass would want to debrief her as well.
And he couldn’t bear to let her go. Not just yet.
He burst into the war room and came to an abrupt halt. Lily, who was following close behind, bumped into him with an eep.
Harper and Brandywine and another man were scouring the sat maps on the table. A cluster of men in black suits in the corner came to attention when they saw him. Once they determined he was not a threat, they relaxed.
Harper glanced up and grimaced. “You look like hell, Maddox.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The lieutenant broke into a grin. “But I’m glad to see you alive.”
“Yeah.” Stone rubbed at the ache in his chest. “Glad to be alive. But sir, we need to go back in—”
Harper held up a hand. “Stone, you’re preaching to the choir. We’ve already got things in motion.”
In motion? In fucking motion? They needed to go…now. Fly to the fucking X. Drop in. Waste these fuckers and pull Drake out. “Sir—”
The third man, who seemed somewhat familiar—but out of place in a navy-issued jumpsuit—stepped forward. He was a tall, slender man with closely cropped black hair, sporting a sprinkling of silver at the temples. His features were tense and drawn. With a hit to the gut, Stone realized who he was. His skin prickled.
