by Cat Johnson
"Work going okay? The team good?" Bethany asked.
She'd never cared about his job before. Why the hell did she now?
He glanced at her before taking the slightly spit dampened ball from the dog's mouth and tossing it again. "The team is fine."
"Then it must be something personal bothering you."
Unsure why she wasn't letting this go, he turned to face her. "Why do you care?"
"I told you, just because we weren't good together doesn't mean I want to see you miserable."
"I'm not—" He stopped himself from denying it. He was miserable. The only surprise was that Bethany had noticed and actually cared. He knew it was crazy but he asked, "How can you trust your feelings after the clusterfuck that was our marriage?"
Her brows drew down as her eyes narrowed. "I'm trying to be nice. Why do you have to be an asshole?"
"I'm not. I'm sorry. It's a serious question. I just didn't phrase it very well. I guess I'm asking how can I know the next time I have feelings for a woman that it's not going to end just like you and I did?"
She lifted one shoulder. "You can't know for sure, Grant. There are no guarantees in life. You know that."
There was one guarantee in life—eventually it would end. The only question was when, because no one lived forever.
Christ, he had gotten morbid and cynical. He couldn't help but put part of the blame for that on the woman sitting next to him.
Bethany reached out and took the ball from the dog, throwing it for him. Grant realized he'd been so in his own head he hadn't even noticed the near hundred pound dog trying to get his attention.
He couldn't concentrate anymore. That made him a liability to his team and put in jeopardy the very career he'd sacrificed his marriage for. The irony wasn't lost on him.
"You wanna talk about it?" she asked, eyeing him.
"No." He sighed and said, against his better judgment, "I met someone."
"That's great."
"Really?" He laughed, glancing at her face to see if she was lying.
If he could still trust his instincts—and that was up for debate at the moment—he thought she might actually be sincere.
"Yes. I'm happy for you."
"Don’t be too happy.” Grant snorted. “She's not speaking to me at the moment."
Not to mention she was on the other side of the globe, working in a hot zone that Grant wouldn't enter willingly without all of his gear and a solid plan for the inevitable shit storm—body armor, weapons, explosives, comm units, a QRF on standby . . .
Turkey. Of all places she chose to go there.
Why didn't she choose to work at a refugee camp in Greece or in Jordan where things were moderately safer? The political climate less volatile.
But of course she'd go to the place with the greater need—as well as the greater threat. He supposed he should be grateful she wasn't volunteering in Aleppo or Iraqi Kurdistan.
Knowing the kind of organization Jen was working for, none of the proper precautions were taken, leaving her in an only slightly better situation than her position in Somalia—and there was no forgetting how that had worked out.
Grant glanced up and saw Bethany smile. "What?"
"You just confided in me. Does this mean we're friends now?" she asked.
"No." He scowled. Though it would be nice to talk to someone. Almost everyone in Grant's daily life currently or in the past had worked above him or below him. He had no one who was just a friend. "Maybe."
Her smile broadened. "Talk to me. I promise to give you an honest opinion."
"Oh, I’m sure you will. Pandering never was your strong suit."
Even with as strange as the whole situation was, Grant was almost inclined to open up to her. Almost. It was further proof he was becoming mentally unstable and probably should take leave until he got his head on straight.
Even his men had noticed he was in a piss poor mood. In fact Brody, who never was one to mince words, had used that exact term.
He shook his head. "It's fine. I'll deal with it on my own."
"Yup. I know you will."
Grant drew in a breath to maintain what little patience he had left and looked at her. "Meaning?"
"Your dealing with things on your own and never opening up to me is one of the many reasons we're no longer together."
He lifted one shoulder. "It's how I am."
She nodded. "I know. Just like how you thrive on situations that normal men would avoid. But that doesn't mean you can't try to change."
Too much had changed recently. Right now creating anymore change on purpose was a frightening concept.
Although Jen was one change in his life he should have welcomed. Even with as frightening as it was, he should have never run from it. From her.
If he could, he'd roll back time . . . back to when he and Jen were in DC. If that were possible Grant would do everything differently.
Good thing it wasn't possible because there'd be a good chance he'd end up down on one knee in front of Jen, after asking her father's permission for her hand after knowing her for only weeks.
He'd only known Bethany for a short time when he'd proposed to her, only to find out shortly after that they were complete opposites.
They'd never had as much in common as he did with Jen.
Bethany was right. Grant did run toward danger rather than away. Hell, he felt more alive during an op than at any other time. His wife never understood or accepted that.
But Jen—it was pretty obvious she had similar tendencies to Grant's. Two months after her captivity she was willingly putting herself right back in what could be considered a dangerous situation.
That was something Grant could understand.
Even though he didn't like the idea of her being there, it was something he would do.
Wasn't the definition of crazy repeating the same action and expecting different results?
Apparently he was crazy . . . but by that definition so was Jen.
He realized he'd been quiet for a long time, absently rubbing the dog's head while Bethany silently watched.
"Sorry. I should let you get going," he said.
"I'm good. Do you have somewhere you need to be? Someone you need to see, perhaps?" she asked.
"No." Sad, but absolutely true, Grant wouldn't be seeing Jen anytime soon. If she would agree to see him at all.
"Grant, don't let the past ruin your future." Her bullshit words had him focusing fully on her.
"That's very philosophical of you, Bethany." He heard the sharp edge in his own words.
"Don't be nasty."
"Sorry." Formally reprimanded, Grant sighed. "But as far as the past not affecting the future idea—I don't see how that can be true. I haven't changed, you know."
She let out a short laugh. "Oh, I know. Believe me."
"So why would this time be any better?" He couldn't believe he was actually talking to her about his love life—the woman who he'd vilified as a wicked witch for months now.
"I can't tell you that."
He snorted. "That's helpful. Thank you."
"I meant I don't know her, whoever this new woman in your life is. I only know you. But if you're interested in her, there must be something there. If you care this much that she's not talking to you, then you must be serious about her."
He hated this conversation more with every passing moment, yet it wasn't in him to quit. Not even something as simple as a talk with Bethany.
It wasn't in him to quit.
Grant's own thought resonated in his head.
Why was he giving up so easily on the relationship with Jen?
Just because she hadn't answered his calls. Just because she was currently in another country. None of that mattered. He'd fought greater obstacles than that before.
In his military career he'd beaten the odds more times than he could count. From making it through BUD/S to being accepted into DEVGRU.
And then there were all the threats he'd eliminated with
the team. All the people he'd saved—Jen included.
He'd done things some considered impossible and he'd come out on top.
It was time he did the same in his personal life.
Grant stood. "Thanks."
She cocked a brow. "Are you being sarcastic?"
He laughed. "No. Actually, I'm being perfectly serious this time. Talking to you . . . helped."
"I'm glad."
"Yeah. Me too. See you soon, Beau." He bent and ruffled the dog's head. Then, in an uncharacteristic show of affection, he leaned over and kissed Bethany's cheek. "Thanks for bringing the dog to see me."
She looked as shocked by that move as he was that he'd made it. "Sure. Anytime."
"Say hi to Jim for me." He couldn't leave without one parting shot but he said it with a smile.
She rolled her eyes while shaking her head. "Good bye, Grant."
"Bye." Grinning, Grant strode toward the parking lot, dodging a dog and its owner connected by a leash in his path.
He had plans to make. Official leave to put in for. Overseas travel to arrange.
Lots to do and none of it was going to be simple and the outcome was definitely not certain. That was just the way he liked it.
As he slipped into his vehicle, he pulled out his cell and hit to dial one of the contacts.
When Jon Rudnick answered, Grant said, "Hey, it's Grant. You got any contacts in Turkey?"
"As a matter of fact, yeah. I got a couple of GAPS teams over there right now on a security contract for the UN refugee camps," Jon said.
Taking that coincidence as a good sign, Grant smiled. "Perfect."
Chapter 22
"Jen?" The voice of Jen's coworker came from behind her, just when she was trying to wrap up what she had been working on for hours.
Since it was the spreadsheet of things they needed there at camp from the organization funding them, it was pretty important. More important than whatever Laura needed her for, Jen was sure.
Not turning to look, Jen held up one finger. She just wanted to enter a few more numbers to complete the category she’d been working on before she lost her place. "I'll be with you in one minute, Laura. I promise."
"I'm not sure I can wait a minute." The deep male voice was slightly husky. Just as she remembered it from that last night in the hotel room.
Jen froze in place. Her fingers stopped typing mid-figure as time seemed to stand still. It even felt like she had stopped breathing.
In danger of suffocating, she drew in a difficult breath and turned in her chair.
"Grant." Here. In Turkey. Why? Jen noticed Laura hanging around with an expression of uncertainty. "Thanks for bringing him back, Laura. You can go."
Laura nodded and left them.
A small smile tipped up the corner of his mouth. "Glad to see you still remember me. And that you didn't have Laura call security on me."
Remember him? She'd never forget him. The pain that one night with him had left was still an ever present ache in her heart.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice so breathy she barely recognized it.
"You weren't returning my calls or texts so I thought I'd stop by."
"Stop by? In Turkey?"
He lifted one shoulder. "I would've gone farther if I had to."
She frowned, unable to wrap her head around the concept he'd come all the way here just to see her. "Are you here on assignment?"
"Nope."
Jen searched for a reason for his presence. "Then you were nearby with the team."
"No. I took leave. I don't know where the team is at the moment. Someone else is in charge for the next two and a half weeks or so."
He'd really come here just for her. "Why?"
Grant took a step closer. "I told you. I wanted to talk."
"About what?" The nearer he got, the harder it was for her to form coherent sentences.
"Us."
"Us?" she repeated. He hadn't acted like they were an us the last time they'd talked.
His gaze, so sincere, grabbed and held hers. "Yeah. I'd like to discuss you and me. What about you? What do you want?"
Him. Jen wanted him, but not at the risk of having her heart crushed again.
When she didn't answer right away, he took another step closer putting him within touching distance. He reached out and clasped one hand onto her arm, giving it a squeeze.
"I'm so sorry." He said the exact words she'd wanted to hear.
It would be so easy to accept his words, to simply be grateful he was here, back in her life, but there were many more words he still owed her. "What exactly are you sorry for?"
"For not calling. Not communicating better what I was feeling."
"And what were you feeling?" she asked.
"Scared."
"I saw you that night in Somalia, Grant. You don't get scared."
He let out a short laugh. "I don't get scared of things I can defend myself against. Threats I can shoot at. Obstacles I have a chance of overcoming. I couldn't do any of that against my feelings regarding us."
"You could have told me that."
"I know. Believe me, I know that now. I was stupid. I talked to other people about you and me when I should have been talking to you. For that, and for hurting you, I am truly sorry."
"Okay. Thank you." Jen figured he deserved at least that from her.
He'd come a hell of a long way to issue an apology and explain himself. Though if he was going to apologize and then leave again, he probably should have just asked her mother for her email address when he'd called, and saved himself the trip.
He was still watching her, waiting for something. If it was for her to apologize for not answering his calls or texts, he could keep waiting because that wasn't going to happen. But she couldn't stand the scrutiny, or not knowing where all of this effort on his part left them.
"So what now?" she asked. Would he go, happy he had a clear conscience?
He'd said there were two and a half weeks of his leave left and since this discussion had taken all of five minutes, she wasn't sure what the rest of his plans were. It wasn't like Turkey was a vacation hotspot nowadays, thanks to the failed coup and the fighting just over the border.
"That's a good question." Shaking his head, Grant let out a snort. He glanced around at the tent turned makeshift office. "Hell of a place you chose for your new assignment. How's it going?"
Smalltalk was not what she'd expected but she went with it. "It's . . . challenging."
He nodded. "I'm sure. And dangerous."
Ah, so that was the end goal—to talk her into going back home. "You and my mother and father agree on that point."
"I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. I did talk to your mother, which I'm sure she told you already since I know you check in with her by phone. But I promise you she didn't ask me to say anything to you. I came to the conclusion this place is more dangerous than I'd like for your new workplace all on my own, based on what I know about the region."
Grant was correct. Jen had had a quick moment of suspicion that her mother might have put him up to this.
The fact he'd guessed that made it feel like he could read her thoughts. As she decided what to do about him, about them, she didn't want him inside her head.
He drew in a breath. "Anyway, I'm going to be here working for a couple of weeks and I was hoping we could spend some time together while I am."
Jen frowned. "I thought you weren't here with the military."
"I'm not. I'm volunteering too." He grinned at what was no doubt a shocked expression on her face. "My dinner break is at eighteen-hundred. That's six o'clock. Maybe I'll see you in the chow hall."
Grant spun on his combat boots and headed for the door and for the first time since the surprise of seeing him, she realized he was dressed in some sort of uniform. Not any Navy one she'd ever seen, but she had seen it before.
The all black tactical pants and vest were what the privately contracted American guards working he
re at camp wore.
Now she was even more confused.
That didn't stop her from glancing at the clock on the computer, or calculating if she'd have time to finish the spreadsheet and still get to the dining hall by six.
Chapter 23
"So you're still active duty?" one of the GAPS guards asked.
"Yup." Grant nodded, not wanting to get into the details with his two temporary coworkers.
"So what is this? Like a job interview for a position on GAPS once you retire?" the other man asked. "I know Rudnick is tough in his interviewing and screening process but damn, I didn't think he'd send someone all the way to Turkey just to try him out."
Grant laughed at that idea. "When I do leave the Navy, if I decide I want to work for Jon, I would hope I wouldn't need an interview or a trial run."
"I don't know, dude. Everyone gets put through the wringer."
Grant laughed. "Maybe, but not everyone used to be Jon and Zane's commanding officer."
The two guys across the table from Grant exchanged glances. One finally said, "Then I really don't understand what you're doing here."
"Oh, wait. I get it." The one guy turned to the other. "I bet he was sent here to evaluate GAPS, not the other way around."
The other guy's eyes widened. "Holy shit. You could be right. It's got to be a kick ass assignment if the Navy sent him to observe how GAPS runs things." He turned his attention to Grant. "Whatever the job is, I want in."
Grant chuckled as two sets of eyes focused on him, as if he held the key to their future assignments. "That's not why I'm here."
"Think he's lying?" one guy asked the other.
"Could be. You know those SEALs."
Now Grant really laughed. "And what were you two when you were in?"
Grant knew Jon hired operators with experience downrange for GAPS. And these guys had Spec Ops written all over them but they obviously hadn't been in the teams judging by that SEAL comment.
"Delta," one said proudly before hooking a thumb toward his buddy. "He's MARSOC, but we don't hold his being a jarhead against him."
Grant tipped his head. "Happy to be working with both of you. And SEALs don't lie . . . we just don't always tell the truth."
