Breaking Free

by Teresa Reasor

  Her leg ached as she made her way back down the hall to the kitchen. The exterior door stood open to the porch and she stopped at the threshold and scanned the room.

  His arms stretched along the edge of the hot tub and his head was tilted back against a cushion. Ropy, well-defined muscles stood out in his neck, shoulders, upper arms, and chest. Though she knew every muscle, had anyone asked her to recite the names at this moment, she wouldn’t have been able to identify a single one. Black hair dusted his chest just above the waterline. The size and strength of him awed her. The beauty of him stole her breath and made it hard for her to swallow. She forced air into her lungs and tried to block off the physical response that made it difficult for her to focus.

  She took two decisive steps into the room. “I didn’t want to go to bed without settling things between us.”

  His lids rose, his pale gray gaze fastening on her face for a moment before they slid downward over the faded sweat pants and cropped T-shirt she wore. He homed in on the two-inch band of bare skin just above her waistband, and a tempting tingle arrowed downward. Her knees grew weak. How could he make her hot and wet with just a look?

  “I wondered when you’d be back to bust my chops.” He sat up from his reclining position. “I was out of line earlier.”

  Surprise kept her silent for a moment. “I’m not here looking for a boyfriend. I’m here for Brett.”

  “I know that.”

  “I’m not a flirt or a tease either.”

  “If what I said led you to believe I thought that, Zoe, you’re mistaken. I’m sorry.”

  He hooked his hands upon the rim of the tub and hiked himself up on the wide tile edge around it.

  After the first glimpse of a rock hard six-pack bisected by a thin line of hair that disappeared beneath a brief black swimsuit, she averted her gaze. She wandered to the screen door to focus her attention outside, until she could get her breathing under control.

  “My concern wasn’t just about the cohesive condition of my team, Zoe. I was concerned about you, too.”

  Sure. The only blip she made on his radar screen was as a possible problem for him or his team.

  “The men have been pressuring you.”

  “They’d be that way with any woman who came within their scope. It’s the male way of being friendly. Because I’m Brett’s sister, they’ll tease and flirt, but they’re not really serious about pursuing me.” She forced herself to face him, just to prove to herself she could do it and still breathe.

  Hawk probed her expression. “I heard Bowie ask you out, and it didn’t sound like he was just interested in flirting.”

  Her cheeks grew hot. “I’m sure he’s used that same line, and his killer dimples, with great success on any number of women. I didn’t take him seriously.”

  His frown set his features in lines of masculine aggression. “Why not?”

  She’d learned the hard way that men were only interested in girls who could keep up with them. To him and his men, a five-mile run was probably a cakewalk. There were days, walking across the room was like running a marathon for her.

  “I’m not interested in a temporary relationship.”

  “Who’s to say it would be?”

  If she’d harbored any hopes he was the least bit interested in her, he’d just doused them. That was a good thing. He was doing her a favor. Being involved with a military man wasn’t what she needed anyway. Seeing Brett in his condition offered her enough heartache already.

  She leaned back against the door facing and studied his expression. “Are you encouraging me to go out with Bowie?”

  “No.” A frown drew his brows into a V above the bridge of his nose setting his features into intimidating lines. She wondered what he would be like truly angry. Probably scary as hell.

  “I’m glad you’re not trying to tell me what to do, because we both know I’ll do as I please.”

  A warning glint lit his pale gray gaze as their eyes met. Just when she began to grow concerned they were about to have words again, a smile broke across his features and he laughed.

  “How’s the knee?” she asked, changing the subject. “You’ve been on it a lot today.”

  “It’s feeling better after a few minutes in the hot tub. Why don’t you join me?”

  Even knowing he meant nothing by the invitation, her pulse hammered at her throat and wrists. A fantasy of all that smooth skin and hard muscle, wet and warm beneath her hands, flashed through her mind. “I haven’t got a bathing suit.” She hoped her voice sounded normal.

  “Then come in, in what you have on now,” he suggested. “You could cut your sweats off into shorts so the water can circulate around your legs.”

  Though tempted, too many painful past experiences triggered a feeling of panic that made it hard for her to swallow.

  She forced a smile to her lips. “And ruin the fashion statement I’m trying to make,” she teased.

  “We’ll pick a bathing suit up tomorrow at the PX then.”

  “I have other things to spend my money on right now, Hawk.”

  “I’ll spring for it. You can’t come to California and not have a bathing suit. This is the surf, sand, and sun state.”

  She couldn’t meet the challenge she read in his gaze; she’d learned that the hard way. “I appreciate the offer, Hawk, but I probably won’t have any time to enjoy the surf and sun and I’m certainly not too fond of sand.”

  “It isn’t one of my favorite things, either, since BUDS training.” He pushed off the rim of the hot tub back into the water. “You could lie down on the lounge and talk to me while I soak.”

  She hesitated, torn between the inexplicable attraction he held for her, and her need to keep him at a distance. The more time she spent with him, the more difficult it would be to ignore her response to him. And what if he discovered how she felt? Her stomach rolled and she placed a hand against it.

  She turned to find him watching her and her legs grew weak.

  “It could be dangerous for you to stay in the hot tub alone,” she said as she stretched out on the lounge and drew a pillow beneath her head. “There have been instances of people being overcome by the heat of the water and drowning.”

  “That would certainly be an ironic end to my SEAL career. You’d better stick around.”

  His droll tone made her laugh. She wiggled and turned on her side. She intercepted a smile that softened his features and brought an answering one to her lips.

  As hard as he tried not to look, Hawk’s attention rested on that thin strip of pale skin visible beneath the bottom of her cropped t-shirt. He ached to reach out and follow the hollow dip of her belly to her navel with his fingers, then his lips. The drawstring dangling just below her belly button seemed to be giving directions. His gaze followed the round curve of one breast clearly defined beneath her t-shirt as she tucked her hands beneath her cheek.

  He found the combination of sensual young woman and innocence tempting as hell. He drew a deep breath and, closing his eyes, tilted his head back against the cushion again. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t in the water with him. He’d grown hard as a torpedo and the possibilities were just too explosive.

  “Where are you from?” she asked.

  She’d seemed so determined to keep him at arm’s length, he raised a brow in surprise.

  “I was born here in San Diego. My father worked construction and my mom was a legal secretary. My dad died in a fall on a building site when I was young. My mom raised me on her own. She died five years ago. Breast cancer.” He controlled his expression with an effort though the ache of loss and the guilt was still there. Why had she not told him how ill she was? Why had she waited for him to come home? She’d waited too long and she’d died alone.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The soft, husky sincerity he heard in her tone tugged his thoughts back. He turned his head to look at her. “I am, too.”

  “What was she like?”

  Despite the anger a smile tugged
at his lips. “A hard ass, but loving with it. I got mixed up with the wrong crowd as a teenager. Nearly got into a gang. She threatened to quit her job and hound my every step until I straightened up my act.”

  “It must have worked.”

  “Yeah, it did. She talked me into taking ROTC. Said if I was going to join a gang it might as well be one that would teach me the right kind of discipline. I stayed with it and earned an academic scholarship for college.”

  “Do you have any other family?”

  “Some distant cousins on my father’s side who live in New Mexico. My mother’s father is still alive. He lives in LA.”

  “Brett said your father was Navaho.”

  “Yeah, half, which makes me a quarter.”

  “Because of your skin and hair color, I imagine it’s easier to get around undetected in foreign ports.”

  “Sometimes.” The defensive feelings caught him by surprise. “That isn’t why you feel so uneasy with me, is it?”

  Her face went blank with shock, then she sat up. “No! Why would you even think that? I mean, that I feel uneasy with you.”

  “You’re on edge with me.”

  For a moment she stared at him then looked away. “It isn’t you. I mean---” She rocked forward to rise to her feet. It took a moment for her to establish her balance, and for the first time, he realized what a struggle her injury proved for her.

  He waded from the hot tub by way of the steps and grasped a towel from the end table. Turning aside to cover the lingering effects of his arousal, he wrapped it around his waist.

  He hadn’t meant to bring things to a head between them---those puns were killing him but he just couldn’t leave it alone. He had to know.

  Her features tense, she faced him. “I’m not prejudiced against you because of your Indian heritage, Hawk.”

  “Is it because I’m responsible for what happened to Brett?””

  “Are you?”

  “I didn’t hit him in the head. No. But it was my mission, this is my team. Every man in it is my responsibility.”

  Some of the tension left her features. “As much as I’d like a target to vent my frustration and anger at, I can’t really hold you responsible for Brett’s condition.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t want to be drawn back into the life again.”

  “Military life?”

  “Yes.” Zoe folded her arms against her midriff as though cold. “You don’t have to enlist to be a part of it. I used to love it, the travel, new places, new people, the troops in uniform, their shoes spit shined, their brass polished until it gleamed. The singsong sound of a drill instructor calling out orders on the parade ground. Seeing them march in formation across the base. I loved it all. Then Desert Storm happened---”

  “And your father was killed.” He sucked in his breath as though he’d been hit in the solar plexus. Just when he thought he had things figured out something else cropped up.

  She nodded, her body taut, her features carefully blank. “Brett being hurt was like--“Her throat worked as she swallowed and she shook her head. “I met you and your men. I’ve broken bread with you, laughed with you, been embraced by your families. I’m just having some trouble dealing with all these emotions, all these memories---”

  He rested a hand upon her shoulder as she edged toward the door. The tension of her muscles as she struggled to retain her composure thrummed beneath his touch.

  “You have to believe that we’re better trained, better prepared, than they are, Zoe. We’re going to be all right.”

  “I hope so, I really do.”

  She turned to face him and raised a hand to cup his cheek, her thumb moving along his cheekbone in a caress that caught him by surprise. His heart rate shot up as he met the clarity of her gaze.

  “I didn’t mean anything derogatory about your heritage. I’m sorry if it came out wrong.”

  He caught her hand when she started to withdraw. “It’s all right, Zoe.” He braced an arm against the door facing above her and shifted closer. The desire to feel her body against his made his breathing unsteady. He caught a whiff of her vanilla shampoo and a hint of some other floral scent on her skin.

  She leaned back against the door facing, aligning her body to his stance. With a foot of space between them, they seemed to generate enough heat to singe the hair off his chest. Her fingers curled around his thumb as it pressed into her palm bringing to mind her fingers closing around other parts of his anatomy.

  “I just meant that you should use whatever you had to stay safe.” Her voice softened, her Kentucky accent, growing thick as honey.

  “Yeah, I got that,” He managed, though he felt starved for breath, as though he’d just finished a ten K run on a sandy beach.

  She bit her bottom lip, leaving a glossy sheen of moisture behind. He bit back a groan. Blood shot to his groin. Jesus---Beads of moisture tracked an itchy path down his spine. It hurt to drag his gaze from her mouth.

  Her mother was only a few yards down the hall. She trusted him. Zoe trusted him. It would be a breach of both their trusts for him to take advantage. He couldn’t have an affair with his best friend’s sister. He couldn’t offer her any emotional security. He wasn’t the permanent kind.

  All those rationalizations didn’t ease the tight heavy feeling of his arousal, or the ache of need that clenched inside him. He forced himself to relinquish Zoe’s hand and take a step back. “It’s getting late and you should be in bed.” His voice sounded husky, almost a growl.

  For a moment she remained still. Slowly, she straightened away from the door facing, and he curved a steadying hand around her upper arm. Her head down, she brushed passed him, her voice almost a whisper as she said, “Good night, Hawk.”

  He listened to her progress through the house until a door closed. Hawk drew a deep breath to ease his pounding heart and realized he was trembling.

  Zoe leaned back against the bedroom door. Her heart beat so she could barely breathe, her legs felt weak, and her skin tight and hypersensitive. She caught back a groan. Dear God. All this and all he had done was look at her and hold her hand. If he ever kissed her, touched her, she’d probably burst into flames. She’d thought for a moment that he would kiss her, and she had been half wild for him to do so. Had he been able to read her desire in her face? God, she hoped not.

  Forcing her legs to move, she limped to the bed and lay down. Feeling as though she might fly apart, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself and curled into a ball. Frustrated desire writhed and twisted inside her. Several minutes passed before her pulse settled to a steadier rhythm. As the adrenaline leached from her system, a wave of melancholy brought tears to her eyes.

  She should have never stayed to talk to him, should have never allowed him to pressure her into sharing her feelings about the Corps and all the memories being here had generated. It had left her too vulnerable to other emotions. She had never experienced anything like this driving desire to open herself physically and emotionally to another human being. It was wonderful and powerful and terrifying.

  The only other time she had been tempted to lower the barriers had been disastrous for her. Tyler had shaken her confidence in herself. It had taken months to deal with the feelings of inadequacy and pain the experience had generated. She’d doubted, for a long time, whether any man could look past her scars and see her as a desirable woman.

  With Hawk, she wanted to be desirable, but knew she wasn’t. If by some miracle she inspired a response in him, she’d have to act on it. God, how terrifying.

  Her feelings for Tyler had been lukewarm in comparison to her response to Hawk. Because of that, he wouldn’t just have the ability to hurt her, he could annihilate her.

  A sound half despair, half longing bubbled up from deep inside her. She dragged a pillow from the other side of the bed and buried her face in it.

  If she trusted him, and he reciprocated, and was shipped out, what then? The hollow desolate feeling the idea generat
ed didn’t bear thinking about. She didn’t want a boyfriend in the military. She couldn’t get involved with Hawk, she just couldn’t.

  CHAPTER 5

  Hawk took a quick look in the mirror. He hadn’t been in uniform since returning to the states. His commanding officer had interviewed him in the hospital in Iraq and a couple of officers from headquarters had visited him in the hospital stateside, and now they were probing again into the mission.

  What the hell had happened to Brett? Who had tried to cave his skull in? Not a tango. They’d have raised an alarm and been swarming all over the building searching for the rest of them. That left someone on the team.

  A hollow ache hit his stomach more painful than a bullet wound.

  Flash had been outside the building the whole time monitoring the tangos on the roof. His periodic clicks over the radio had kept them posted on their movements.

  But he could have slipped in just as they had.

  Derrick had raised the alarm that Cutter hadn’t come out. Doc had clicked his mic just before.

  Bowie had set his package and taken cover outside the building before that, just as he had.

  Any one of the others could have set his explosives package and been out of the building in time. They were all fast enough.

  But how long had Cutter been unconscious?

  Greenback had been two blocks down keeping an eye on their rear security. He’d had his hands full taking out two tangos blocking their route.

  Hawk raked both hands through his hair and pushed the heels of his hands against his temples. He’d been over and over it a million times.

  How could one of his men turn on his own teammate?

  Fuck!

  Why had this happened? There had to be a reason behind it.

  That was the key.

  But how the hell was he supposed to find out if he couldn’t talk to his men. They couldn’t talk to each other about the mission.

  But what had triggered Brett’s attack might have happened before the mission. And that was fair game.