“Hailey. Listen to me.” His voice shook as he spoke. “You can’t travel to the Middle East right now.”

“But—”

“It’s not safe. Your brother didn’t want you in danger.”

She heard the plea in his voice. “But mission work is dangerous. Clay knew that. I know it, too.”

“I don’t care how prepared you think you are, you can’t go there alone.”

She touched his shoulder, surprised at the tension she felt under her hand. “I won’t be alone. I’ll have others with me. And, of course, I’ll have God.”

His shocked gaze locked with hers. “The Lord can’t protect you from roadside bombs.”

Looking into Wolf’s angry expression, Hailey knew words wouldn’t get through to him now. But maybe a firsthand account would.

“Come to church with me this afternoon,” she said. “A couple who are permanently based in the Middle East are visiting,” she explained.

“You’re not going to listen to another word I say unless I agree to this, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You are one hard-headed woman, Hailey O’Brien.” His tone held a hint of admiration.

“So I’ve been told, Captain Wolfson.”

RENEE RYAN

grew up in a small Florida beach town. To entertain herself during countless hours of “lying out” she read all the classics. It wasn’t until the summer between her sophomore and junior years at Florida State University that she read her first romance novel. Hooked from page one, she spent hours consuming one book after another while working on the best (and last!) tan of her life.

Two years later, armed with a degree in economics and religion, she explored various career opportunities, including stints at a Florida theme park, a modeling agency and a cosmetics conglomerate. She moved on to teach high school economics, American government and Latin while coaching award-winning cheerleading teams. Several years later, with an eclectic cast of characters swimming around in her head, she began seriously pursuing a writing career.

She lives an action-packed life in Lincoln, Nebraska, with her supportive husband, lovely teenage daughter and two ornery cats who hate each other.

Homecoming Hero
Renee Ryan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

—Matthew 11:28

To First Lieutenant Erik J. Anthes. I’m humbled by your continued dedication to our country.

Thank you for your service, my friend.

May God keep you safe and in His arms always.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

U.S. Army Captain Ty Wolfson stared at his friend’s childhood home in stunned silence. He’d been so focused on getting off post he hadn’t considered what he might find once he arrived in Savannah. The possibility that he’d be standing in front of a two-hundred-year-old house in the heart of the historic district hadn’t crossed his mind. Not once.

But here Wolf stood, confronting generations of tradition, wrapped up neatly in what the historical marker deemed O’Brien House.

As he read the story of the O’Brien family history, guilt twisted painfully in his gut. It should be Clay preparing to climb up these steps. Not Wolf. Not like this, under these terrible circumstances. And yet…he would walk inside that house. To fulfill the promise he’d made to Clay on that Iraqi roadside.

Determined to accomplish the difficult task before him, Wolf started forward, but a jolt of sorrow knifed through him. The feeling was so strong, so visceral he had to stop and swallow several times to get the emotion under control.

Breathing hard, he lowered his gaze to the grainy photograph he’d kept with him for the last six months. The sight of Clay’s little sister grinning back at him made Wolf’s heartbeat quicken with anxiety.

Dressed in a traditional graduation gown with the requisite mortarboard scrunched on top of her head, Hailey O’Brien looked far too young, and far too innocent to have set such a dangerous course for her life.

Whatever it took, Wolf would stop her. He owed that much to Clay. And the friendship they’d shared in Iraq.

Blinking the grit out of his eyes, he stuffed the photograph back in his pocket and studied Clay’s childhood home a moment longer. He knew he was stalling, but he needed a chance to take it all in.

The three-story brick mansion filled an entire city block. Each floor boasted rows of tall, double-glass doorways leading onto cast-iron balconies. A fence in the same ornate design ran along the perimeter of the manicured lawn, encircling tall trees and large bushes that reached halfway to the second floor.

With his gaze tracking the adjacent streets, Wolf experienced a sense of claustrophobia. There were too many trees in this part of town and the houses were too close together. He’d lived too long in the desert not to feel pinned in now.

Shivering, he blew into his cupped palms. The temperature had dropped to a sharp, bitter cold that turned his breath to frost. Clay had prepared him for the heat, with his constant griping about the Savannah humidity. But he’d said nothing about this bone-rattling cold that made Wolf’s leg ache more than usual.

A light mist swirled in the gray, depressing air. The perfect accompaniment for all the regrets he harbored in his heart. Duty was all he had left. Duty and this one goal, the fulfillment of his promise to a fallen friend.

“Might as well get this over with,” he muttered.

Gritting his teeth, Wolf set out across the street. He hid the pain in his left leg behind an even gait and stone-cold determination.

After three sharp raps of the ornate knocker the door swung open. Wolf jerked in surprise. With her dark hair, big green eyes and curvy figure, Hailey O’Brien was not the teenager he’d prepared for in his mind. She was a woman—a throat-clogging, heart-stopping, beautiful woman.

He knew he was staring. How could he not? Clay’s sister was nothing like the fuzzy graduation picture her brother had kept on the dash of their Humvee and Wolf now had in his pocket.

Wolf tried to speak. Even managed to open his mouth, but memories got in the way and he pressed his lips tightly together. His head filled with contrasting images of Clay kicking around a soccer ball with some local kids outside the forward operating base. Clay blinking up at him on the Iraqi roadside as he was bleeding out.

Clay issuing the request that had brought Wolf to this house today…

You gotta keep Hailey out of the Sandpit, Wolf-man. No mission work. Not here. Promise me you’ll stop her.

Wolf hadn’t hesitated in his response. I won’t let you down.

The memory of his own words pushed Wolf into action. “Are you Hailey O’Brien?”

She nodded. Slowly. And it finally registered that she’d been standing there speechless, just like him. Even now, she simply stared at him with her beautiful, unguarded, attentive eyes. Waiting. Watching.

“I…” Wolf cleared his throat. “I was a friend of your brother’s.”

Instant pain filled her gaze and the wall went up. Wolf hadn’t expected that.

“You knew Clay?” she asked at last, her voice deeper and throatier than he’d expected.

“I did. He asked me to—” Wolf cut off his words midsentence, realizing he couldn’t blurt out why he was here without some sort of buildup. “That is, I was with him when he died.” Which wasn’t what he’d meant to say, either.

She blinked. “You were?”

“Yes.”

She blinked again. And then…

One lone tear slid down her cheek.

Great beginning, Wolf, you made the poor woman cry.

With concentrated effort, he softened his voice. “My name is Ty. Ty Wolfson.”

“Wolf.” Her shoulders snapped back. “Yes, of course. I should have…expected this.”

“You know me?”

She nodded. “My brother mentioned you in his e-mails.”

Wolf didn’t know what to do with that information, so he redirected the conversation. “Is this a bad time?” He shifted his gaze, only just noticing the purse strapped around her shoulder and the coat slung over her arm. “You look ready to go out.”

“Oh. I… No.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I mean, I am heading out, but it can wait.”

Okay, good. He had her attention again. Now, if he could get his tongue to work properly he might be able to finish what he’d come here to do. Then he could return to his temporary housing on post and give in to his exhaustion. The forty-eight-hour journey out of Iraq was catching up with him.

“What I have to say won’t take long,” he promised. Not if he could help it. “Oh. Oh. I’m so sorry. I’m being rude, making you stand out there in the cold.” She gave him a quick, tense smile. “Please. Come in. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Wolf heard the genuine remorse in her words, saw the guilt in her eyes and felt bad for upsetting her. “No worries. I didn’t give you any warning I was coming. I’m sure this is a shock.”

Her smile turned a little watery, but she stepped aside to make room for him to pass.

Frowning at the fancy rug just inside the doorway, Wolf stomped off the week-old Iraqi desert still clinging to his boots and moved forward. The smell of furniture polish and old money had him hesitating. But only for a moment.

Shoulders back, he followed Hailey down a portrait-filled hallway. He tried to look anywhere but at Clay’s sister. Easier said than done, especially considering the confines of the tiny corridor. Each step she took was dignified and regal, the perfect blend of confidence and class that came from a life spent in country clubs and expensive schools.

Wolf shouldn’t be watching her so closely. It reeked of betrayal to his friend.

Forcing back a spurt of guilt, he focused his gaze on the wall of pictures. They were hung in a haphazard pattern that made an odd sort of sense. Some of the photographs were in large frames, some small. Some were yellowed with age, others much newer. But all had the common theme of family, stability and normalcy, things Wolf had never experienced in his thirty years of life.

His guard instantly went up.

Good thing, too, because in the next moment Hailey led him into a large room with fancy tables, ornate chairs and more photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

He could handle the obvious wealth reflected in the expensive furnishings. But this, this shadowy sense of homecoming, left Wolf wanting things he couldn’t form into coherent thoughts.

There was something about this room that put him on edge. The comfort that radiated out of every corner was a visible reminder of everything Wolf had missed out on as a child.

Great. Nothing like being the big stinkin’ fish out of water in an already tense situation.

Hailey set her purse and coat on a chair, then turned back to face him. “Please, have a seat, uh…Lieutenant?”

“Captain,” he corrected automatically, looking for a suitable place to sit. “It’s Captain now.”

Unable to settle, Wolf avoided the fragile-looking furniture and strode through the room with clipped, restless strides.

Now that he was here, facing Clay’s sister at last, he didn’t know how to begin.

At the beginning? The end? Somewhere in between?

Hands clasped in front of her, Hailey eyed the soldier pacing through the original parlor of O’Brien House, all the while trying to keep hold of her composure. Unfortunately, Captain Wolfson’s nervousness was wearing off on her. Clearly he had something important to say, but he wasn’t having much success in getting the words past his lips.

So she waited.

And watched.

He couldn’t stand still for more than a few seconds at a time. His fingers tapped out a chaotic rhythm on his thigh. Her toes caught the uneasy cadence, until she realized what she was doing and stopped. Clay had been jumpy like this the first time he’d returned home from Iraq. Clay. Oh, Clay.

Her heart lurched at the mere thought of her brother. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. How she missed him. She’d been so proud of his role in the Army, awed by his dedication, and inspired by his descriptions of the strides the military was making in Iraq. But then God had taken him home. And Hailey had been forced to examine her own life. She hadn’t liked what she’d discovered about herself.

But that was in the past. She was a different woman now, with more conviction. Where Clay had set out to bring peace to the Middle East, she would do what was necessary to bring hope.

Lord, help me to honor my brother’s sacrifice with my mission work. Let him not have died in vain.

Feeling stronger, resolved, she focused once more on Captain Wolfson. He looked at home in his Army camouflage and tan combat boots. What Clay used to call his BDUs.

As she waited for the captain to speak, Hailey silently congratulated herself on maintaining her composure. When she’d opened the door to him earlier she’d almost lost it.

During that terrible, heart-stopping declaration that he’d been with Clay when he’d died the tears had pressed against her lids. Only one had escaped. She’d held the rest back. That’s what mattered. As her mother had always said, an O’Brien woman kept her poise under all circumstances.

Oh, but it hurt to look at this man pacing through her home like a caged panther. With his dark hair, ice-blue eyes and direct gaze, Captain Wolfson was far too much like her brother.

Except…he was nothing like Clay. Hard. Yes, that was the word that came to mind as she gazed up at him. No. Not hard. Sorrowful. Wounded. A man with regrets.

She could stand the suspense no longer. “You said you have something important to tell me?”

He jerked at her voice and then his hand shot out, as though he was reaching for something. His weapon? Clay had reacted the same way whenever a loud noise surprised him.

“I’m sorry, Captain.” She spoke softer this time. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay.” He closed his hand into a tight fist. “I’m just a little low on sleep.”

Possibly. But she doubted that was the cause of his jumpiness. She rose slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. “You have something to tell me about Clay?”

“Yes. But sit back down.” He gestured to the chair she’d just abandoned. “Please.”

“If you’ll join me.”

He looked at several pieces of furniture, narrowing his eyes as he went.

Understanding dawned. “Clay didn’t like this room, either.” She allowed herself a short laugh. “He said it was too girly.”

Wolf smiled at that. It was a quick, almost indiscernible lift of his lips, but a smile all the same. Unfortunately, the gesture made him seem somehow…sadder.

Shoulders set, he lowered himself to the love seat facing her. She could practically hear his thoughts colliding into one another as he leaned forward and captured her gaze with his. “You should know that Clay died honorably.”

It was her turn to smile, grateful for those simple, straightforward words affirming what she already knew. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“You’re not surprised.”

“Clay was an honorable man.”

“That he was.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them.

Hailey swallowed. “Was that what you came to tell me?”

“No.” He broke eye contact, but not before she saw the agony in his gaze.

This conversation was hard on him, that much was clear. Well, it was equally difficult for her. She still missed her brother. Desperately. He’d been the last of her living relatives. After six full months, she often found herself waking in the middle of the night with tears running down her cheeks.

But as bad as she felt over her loss, this man had watched Clay die.

Without thinking too hard about what she was doing, Hailey moved to a spot next to him on the love seat and took one of his hands in hers. When he didn’t pull away, she squeezed gently. Her meeting at the church was no longer important. Giving this man comfort mattered more. Maybe, in the process, she would find a moment of peace, as well.

For several seconds, Captain Wolfson sat deathly still next to her, staring at their joined hands with his brows scrunched together. Confusion? Frustration? She couldn’t read his emotions anymore.

And then a dreadful thought occurred to her. “Did something happen to Clay that the military hasn’t told me? Something…classified?”

“No.” He sucked in a harsh breath. “No. His death was senseless, but not unusual. Our Humvee hit a roadside bomb. Clay lived a few minutes longer than the other three soldiers with us.”

The other three? Counting Clay and Captain Wolfson that made five men in the truck. “Are you saying you were the only one who made it out alive?”

“Yes.” The word came out softer than a whisper. And so sorrowful.

Hailey clasped his hand a little harder. “I’m sorry.”

He squeezed back, then lifted his gaze to meet hers. She gasped at what she saw in his eyes. Pain. Grief. And something else. Guilt, maybe? Was he suffering from survivor’s guilt? She’d heard about the terrible emotion, but had never truly understood it. Until now.

Lord, how do I help this man?

She wasn’t trained for something like this. It was more than she could handle.

Just as despair nearly overtook her, Wolf’s face cleared of all expression and he tugged his hand free. “Clay made one final request before he died.”

A sense of dread whipped through her. She didn’t want to hear the rest. Captain Wolfson had the unrelenting look of a man filled with resolve, the kind of determination a person got when he had to do or say something awful.

As afraid as she was to hear the rest, she had to ask, had to know. “What was my brother’s last request?”

“He asked me to stop you from going to the Middle East.”

Hailey shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “But…that doesn’t make any sense.”

In fact, the very idea was absurd.

Captain Wolfson rolled his shoulders, his gaze never fully releasing hers. “He was adamant.”

“You must have misunderstood. My becoming a missionary was Clay’s idea.”

“Not in the end.” He spoke the words in a hard, ruthless tone while his eyes—those sad, grief-stricken eyes—flared with raw emotion.

Hailey wished she didn’t see the misery in him, didn’t understand it and want to soothe it away. So she focused on what she knew for certain. “You’re mistaken. Clay’s e-mails said otherwise. I saved them all, including the one where he first encouraged me to start the application process.”

“Yeah, well, he changed his mind.” Wolf’s tone hardened even more than before. “When he was bleeding out on the desert floor.”

Hailey recoiled. “How can you say something so awful, so…graphic?”

“Because you’re not listening to me.” He rose abruptly, towering over her with his massive size. He looked every bit the warrior now, a man who had seen and done awful things.

Odd, but she wasn’t afraid of him. Only confused. His words and attitude didn’t match any of what Clay had said to her. “It’s… I mean, I…”

“Hailey. Listen to me.” His voice shook as he dropped to one knee. The gesture brought his gaze at eye level with hers. “Clay was right to send me. You can’t travel to the Middle East right now.”

“But—”

“Listen to me. It’s not safe. Your brother didn’t want you in danger.”

She heard the plea in his voice, saw the conviction in his bunched shoulders. “But, Captain Wolfson, mission work is dangerous. Clay knew that. I know it, too.”

“I don’t care how prepared you think you are, you can’t go in there alone.”

She touched his shoulder, surprised at the tension she felt under her hand. “I won’t be alone. I’ll have others with me. And, of course, I’ll have God.”

“God?” His shocked gaze locked with hers. “The Lord can’t protect you from IEDs.”

She sighed at his vehemence, not to mention his very real anger at God. She had to make him understand the Truth. “If it’s His will, He can. Besides, you’re missing the point.”

“No. You are.”

Looking into Wolf’s angry expression, Hailey knew words wouldn’t get through to him now. But maybe a firsthand account would.

“Come to church with me this afternoon,” she said.

He looked at her as if she’d gone insane.

“We’re having a reception for some visiting missionaries,” she explained quickly. “Including a couple who are permanently based in the Middle East.”

He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but she raised her hand to stop him from interrupting her. “No. Wait. Don’t say anything yet. I want to make a deal with you first.”

His eyes narrowed. “What sort of deal?”

“If you promise to listen to the Mulligans’ story without judgment, then I’ll promise to listen to your arguments with the same mind-set.”

He looked at her for an endless moment. As each second passed, frustration filled his gaze. But then he shook his head at her and said, “You’re not going to listen to another word I say unless I agree to this, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You are one hardheaded woman, Hailey O’Brien.” His tone held a hint of admiration.

“So I’ve been told, Captain Wolfson.”

A moment of solidarity passed between them. And something else. Something pleasant, but not altogether comfortable. “So you’ll come with me today?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want me to listen to the rest of your arguments.”

He smiled at her then, with the kind of stomach-twisting grin that turned his blue, blue eyes to a deep midnight. He no longer reminded her of Clay. In fact, the man was far too handsome for his own good. Hailey had to remind herself why he was here. He wanted to stop her from going to the Middle East.

“All right. You win this round, Hailey. For the next, let’s say, two hours.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m all yours.”

I’m all yours. Hailey’s heart kicked hard against her ribs. I’m. All. Yours.

Three simple words, spoken in such a matter-of-fact tone. But Hailey knew the battle was far from over.

Captain Wolfson had made a promise to her dying brother. He didn’t seem like a man who would relent easily.

Of course, what he didn’t know was that she’d made her own promise. To the Lord.

Chapter Two

Hailey stepped onto the front porch ahead of Captain Wolfson. Although she could feel his intense gaze on her, she managed to click the lock in place on the first try.

Gathering her composure, she turned to face him directly.

Their gazes locked, held. And held some more.

Her pulse did a little cha-cha before settling into a heavy, thick thump…thump…thump.

Something deep inside her, the part she’d ignored since Clay’s death, recognized this man as a kindred spirit. Was it solidarity from a mutual loss? Or something more disturbing?

Either way, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed to be emotionally involved with a man after only a half-hour acquaintance.

Yet, here she stood, blinking at him without a word coming to mind. As the silence lengthened, the cold, wet air encircled them, creating an illusion that they were the only two people left in the world.

She wasn’t attracted to the man. Was she? No. He wasn’t her type. She preferred artistic intellectuals who wore wire-framed glasses. Not big, strong, elemental warriors.

“Where are you parked?” she asked, pleased at her even tone. If her mother was still alive she’d be proud of Hailey. After all, O’Brien women always kept control of a situation, no matter how unusual, unexpected or emotionally charged.

“I’m three blocks that way.” He angled his head to her left.

She lifted her eyebrows, fully aware that the city’s layout didn’t afford adequate parking. “You actually found an open spot on the street?”

“Yeah. Total cakewalk.” He gave her a wry grin. “If you consider three passes down eight different streets easy.”

Hailey heard a trace of humor underneath the frustration in his voice. He didn’t seem angry about the inconvenience of finding a parking space, only mildly annoyed. That said a lot about his character.

Her brother’s friend was a patient man, even when he was clearly exhausted.

She found herself intrigued by him all over again.

Hailey, no. Not your type. Remember why he sought you out today. “Captain Wolfson—”

“Ty.” One side of his mouth kicked up. “My name is Ty.”

Oh, why, why did he have to turn appealing now, when she was working so hard to put him in the role of opponent?

A breathy sigh slipped out of her before she could stop it. “Ty, I—”

“Or…you can call me Wolf.”

Wolf. Right. That’s what Clay had called him. She could see why, too. His eyes were just like a wolf’s. Stark, emotionless, guarded. Maybe even a little scary.

“Who’s afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?”

He sighed, looking slightly disappointed in her. Clearly, he’d heard that one before.

Why had she said it, anyway? Maybe it was because his grin had made her feel like Little Red Riding Hood skipping unwittingly into the beast’s trap.

She’d been wrong in her earlier assessment of the man. He wasn’t elemental.

He was dangerous.

And when it came to men, Hailey O’Brien did not do dangerous. Ever.

It was important she remember that little factoid about herself. “All jokes aside, I think Wolf suits you best.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Call me whatever you like.”

“Well then, Wolf, do you want to ride with me?”

“No.” He looked over his shoulder in the direction he’d indicated earlier. “I have my own wheels.”

His answer was quick. A little too quick. “How can I be sure you’ll show?”

“Because I said I would.”

She recognized her mistake at once. Even without Clay’s e-mails to attest to his character, the rough honesty and deep code of ethics Wolf lived by were obvious in his direct gaze and straightforward manner.

“I’m sorry.” She broke eye contact, resisting an urge to dig her toe in the knothole at her foot. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Apology accepted.”

Before he could speak again, she rattled off the address for Faith Community Church.

He nodded. “I know the one.”

Again, he surprised her. “You do?”

He didn’t reply at first, merely stared at her. A battle seemed to wage behind his eyes before he said, “Hailey, this isn’t my first trip to Savannah. I was at Fort Stewart six months before I was deployed to Iraq this last time.”

“But Clay’s e-mails said you two met in Iraq.”

“We did. We became friends—” He stopped, shut his mouth, swallowed hard and then started again. “We became friends when I got transferred to his platoon twelve months ago.”

She reached out to touch his arm but he shifted away and then started down the front steps ahead of her. Without turning around, he waited for her to join him.

Play it safe, use your head and never, never make a decision out of emotion. Those had been the rules the old Hailey had lived by before Clay died. The new Hailey was a full-grown, twenty-six-year-old woman who lived by a different set of standards. She took risks. Lots of them. Well, not yet. But she would soon. When she boarded a plane to Iraq. Or Afghanistan. Or wherever the mission board sent her.

Deciding to start being brave right now, Hailey marched down the stairs, head held high, and faced Wolf. “I’ll see you at the church in fifteen?”

“Just so we’re clear,” he began. “I’ll meet your missionaries. I’ll listen to their stories, but then you have to let me say what I came to tell you. All of it. Without interruption.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good. We understand one another.” He turned to leave without speaking another word.

Oh, but she’d caught the grim expression on his face. And the unrelenting tilt of his chin. On the surface, the man looked like a hard, physical specimen ruled by his own prowess. But Captain Wolfson was no knuckle-dragger. He was intelligent, determined and loyal.

He was not going to come around to her way of thinking easily.

Sighing, Hailey watched him head down the sidewalk. Only then did she notice his slight limp. Had he been injured during the attack?

It was possible. After all, he’d been blown up by an IED. The muscles in her stomach twitched at the thought.

Lord, why have You brought this man into my life? Why now?

With effort, she folded her confusion deep inside her and headed toward her own car.

Twenty minutes later, Hailey steered into the parking lot of Faith Community Church of Savannah. A feeling of home washed over her.

Like most modern churches, FCC was a functional collection of brick, glass and steel. But despite its lack of worldly grandeur, Hailey always met the Lord here. Even during the dark days following Clay’s death, she’d found comfort. And peace. Not from the building, but from her church family.

It was her turn to give back to others in need. A spurt of excitement twisted along her spine. She would no longer be on the sidelines, waiting her turn. Soon, she would be in the heart of the action.

Smiling, she exited her car at the same moment a motorcycle roared into the empty spot beside her. The snarl of the engine had her jumping back. Her hand flew to her throat and she flattened herself against her car.

Loud, obnoxious, danger-on-two-wheels—what sort of insane, crazy person rode a steel beast like that?

As soon as the question came to her, she noticed that the person climbing off the bike wore BDUs and tan army boots. Even before he removed his helmet, she knew whose face she’d see.

Didn’t she already recognize the powerful set of Wolf’s shoulders and the way he favored his left leg?

There was something so familiar about the man, something that made her feel both safe and uneasy at the same time.

Maybe it was because he reminded her of Clay.

Or…maybe not.

She took in a steadying breath and sighed. She might tell herself she liked the artistic type, she might even believe it in her head, but Captain Wolfson was a man. A warrior. A bona fide hero in BDUs.

It was hard not to be attracted to him.

Her twenty-six years of safe existence hadn’t prepared her for someone like him, someone who made her question everything she’d ever known about herself and the very real need in the world around her.

Wasn’t that the point of her decision to become a missionary? To live out her faith among people? After all, what good did a formal education and countless Bible studies do if she didn’t put her knowledge to use in the real world?

And this man, the one pulling off a motorcycle helmet, was here to stop her from taking the next step in her Christian walk.

Fat chance.

Convicted all over again, she waited for Wolf to join her on the sidewalk that led to the front of the main church building.

They walked in silence.

Despite her best intentions, Hailey kept sending him covert glances from below her lashes. She was aware of the man with a sharp-edged clarity that was downright disturbing. “You won’t regret joining me this afternoon.”

He made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat.

Ho-kay, so he was going to play it that way?

“I thought you promised an open mind?” she said, failing to keep her annoyance out of her voice.

“It’s open.” He tapped his left temple. “Wide open.” He sounded sincere. But then he gave her a grin that could only be described as…wolfish. Oh, boy.

Thankfully, she caught sight of a familiar face heading their way. Relief spread through her. “Look, there’s J.T.” She lifted her hand in greeting.

“Who’s J.T.?” Wolf asked, his voice wary.

“Our mission’s pastor.”

“Right.”

Hailey wasn’t sure what she heard in Wolf’s voice, but he didn’t sound convinced.

His next words confirmed her suspicion. “He doesn’t look like any pastor I’ve met before.”

Hailey eyed J.T., trying to see him from a newcomer’s point of view. “That’s because he looks younger than he really is. Don’t be fooled, he’s in his thirties.”

“It’s not his age.” Wolf narrowed his eyes. “It’s something…else.”

There was such gravity in his voice that Hailey felt the need to reassure him. “J.T.’s a good guy. You’ll like him.” She played her ace. “Clay did. They were friends. Good friends.”

Before Wolf could respond J.T. pulled her into a tight hug. “Hellooooo, beautiful.”

Wolf had thought he’d seen everything. He’d survived fifteen brutal years with a mean, alcoholic father. He’d lived on his own for the next fifteen after that. He’d faced insurgents, enemy fire and an IED. But he’d never confronted anything—or anyone—like Hailey’s pastor.

Man of God or not, the guy was overly friendly with Clay’s sister. In fact, Pastor J.T. hugged Hailey a little too long, with far too much enthusiasm.

Inappropriate. That’s the word that came to mind as the two finally untangled from each other’s arms.

When J.T. kept his hands on Hailey’s shoulders, a white-hot ball of emotion roiled in Wolf’s stomach. He ignored the sensation and detached himself emotionally from the situation. He was a master at compartmentalizing. It was a gift.

Besides, what did it matter whether he approved of the relationship between Hailey and her pastor?

It was none of his business, emphasis on none.

“J.T.,” she said, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” Hailey shifted out of the pastor’s reach—which was good—and turned those compelling green eyes onto Wolf. Not so good.

His breath tightened in his throat and that ball of emotion rolling around in his stomach tied into a tight knot.

So much for detachment.

“Wolf, this is J. T. Wagner, our mission’s pastor.”

Despite his instant dislike of the guy, Wolf shook J.T.’s hand. With his surfer-dude, spiky, sun-streaked hair, ratty cargo pants and rock-star T-shirt, J.T. looked like a grown man masquerading as a teenager.

Something wasn’t right.

Other than a diamond stud in his left earlobe, the pastor wore no jewelry. Not even a wedding ring.

Yeah, Wolf had checked.

After another moment of inspection, Wolf realized why the picture didn’t fit completely. Despite the civilian clothing, J.T. had military written all over him. It was in his stance and the way he moved.

A former soldier turned pastor. Talk about a walking, talking nightmare for a man who didn’t want to discuss the military or what had happened in Iraq or anything to do with the good Lord.

Wolf had to give the guy points, though. J.T. didn’t flinch under his scrutiny.

Hailey cleared her throat. “J.T., Wolf was a friend of Clay’s. They were together in Iraq.”

J.T. nodded at Wolf, and a moment of camaraderie passed between them. Wolf didn’t know what to do with that. He’d decided to dislike the man, on principle if nothing else. But he realized that wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d first thought.

“How long have you been home, soldier?”

“Since this morning.”

J.T. cocked his head. “Did they have a welcome-home parade at Cottrell Field?”

Wolf rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “I chose not to attend.”

He’d told himself it was because he’d been focused on getting to Hailey and fulfilling his duty. But his reasons were more complicated than that.

Without Clay and the others marching by his side, Wolf didn’t deserve a welcome-home celebration.

Had he seen that bump in the road, had he paid more attention to that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that day, all four of his fallen friends would be here today.

He—

Hailey touched his sleeve, her soft voice breaking through his thoughts. “You didn’t look for Clay’s tree?”

“No.” He hoped she’d leave it at that.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to pay homage to his friend. But when he’d pulled alongside the long row of evergreens, one planted for each fallen soldier of the Third Infantry Division, Wolf had lost the stomach for it. Literally.

Disgusted with himself, for his self-indulgence as much as his weakness, he’d climbed back on his motorcycle and had headed straight to Savannah.

“You really are determined,” Hailey said, shaking her head in resignation.

Wolf stared into her eyes, silently communicating his resolve. “I made a promise to a friend. I—”

A loud whoop of feminine shouts cut off the rest of his words. “Hailey, Hailey. There you are.”

A group of teenage girls swarmed her, giggling and laughing at such a shrill decibel Wolf wanted to cover his ears with his hands.

“Come on, Hail. The program’s about to start.” One girl after the other tugged on her, buzzing around her like bees to a flower. “You promised to sit with us.”

Hailey looked at Wolf with a question in her eyes.

“Go on. I’ll find you later.”

She hesitated, looking uneasy at the thought of leaving him behind. “Are you sure?”

“No worries, Hail.” He winked at her. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She sighed. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

After a final glance over her shoulder, she turned her full attention on the giggling girls. Three steps and her demeanor changed. She turned into one of them. She laughed and smiled and…was that a skip? Did the woman literally have a skip in her step?

A surge of unexpected anger had him gasping for a decent gulp of air.

Did she have any idea what her life would be like once she arrived in the Middle East? Did she not understand the dangers she was about to face, merely because she was an American and a woman?

She couldn’t possibly be prepared for the culture shock. Most soldiers weren’t, and they had training.

If nothing else, Wolf had to make her understand what she was getting herself into.

Not until Hailey disappeared inside a larger crowd did Wolf remember the man standing beside him.

He turned his head, only to discover that J.T. was watching Hailey, as well. The man’s eyes were filled with an emotion that had nothing to do with friendship.

Were the two dating?

Was it any of Wolf’s business?

Yeah, as a matter of fact, it was.

He’d promised Clay he’d keep Hailey safe. And safe meant safe. From all threats. That included the kind that came wrapped inside surfer-dude pastors.

Wolf nearly growled.

J.T. visibly pulled his gaze away from Hailey and refocused on him again. “So you were a friend of Clay’s.”

The words were spoken as a statement, an attempt perhaps to open up friendly conversation.

Wolf wasn’t in the mood. “I was with him when he died.”

“That’s tough, man.” Understanding flared in J.T.’s gaze and something else, something tragic. “I…” He shook his head. “There aren’t words.”

Wolf recognized the haunted look in the other man’s eyes. It was the same Molotov cocktail of nasty memories mixed with guilt he’d seen in his own mirror. “No. There aren’t.”

J.T. rocked back on his heels and then stuffed his hands into his pockets. He blinked once, twice. By the third try his expression cleared and the carefree pastor was back. “Welcome to FCC, soldier.” He slapped Wolf on the back. “Now come with me. You can tell me about yourself while we head inside.”

Yeah, as if that was going to happen.

Feeling trapped, he matched J.T. step for step. Something in the pastor’s manner warned Wolf to brace for impact.

What had started out as a long day was about to get longer.

Chapter Three

All Wolf wanted to do was climb back on his bike and ride. It didn’t matter where. As long as it was anywhere but here. He still had most of his forty-eight hours of leave left. He could go a lot of places in that amount of time, even within the hundred-and-fifty-mile limit they’d given all returning soldiers.

At least J.T. had quit with the probing questions and Hailey had stopped looking at him with all that distrust in her eyes. Like she feared he was going to bolt at any second.

Okay, yeah. He wanted to take off. But he’d made a promise to Clay’s sister.

He wouldn’t break his word.

Pulling in a tight breath, he settled back against the metal chair Hailey had saved for him. He managed to sit through the Mulligans’ introduction before the fidgeting set in. He contained his twitching to a light drumming of his fingers on his thigh. But as the missionaries continued talking, nothing could stop the hard ball of dread clogging in Wolf’s throat.

Open mind, Wolf. You promised Hailey an open mind.

He took another breath. Slow and easy.

“It’s not numbers we’re after,” Harold Mulligan said. “It’s hearts.” The man paused, and then slid his gaze over the crowd with deliberate slowness.

Wolf took the opportunity to study the missionary. The man was just what he’d expected. Tall, scarecrow thin, middle-aged with sandy-blond hair and fervent eyes.

“No obstacles are too big for God,” Harold continued, pulling his wife closer to his side with an affectionate little tug. “Patty and I go where the Lord leads us.”

Patty smiled up at her husband. The woman could be anybody’s mother, thanks to her plump figure, curly helmet hair and polyester pants.

Harold cleared his throat. “Patty and I are on a faith journey that will impact eternity.”

Wolf blinked at that last sentence, only now realizing what was making him so antsy. Mr. Mulligan wasn’t saying anything of substance. He was speaking in fancy rhetoric—one lofty, Christian cliché after another.

Yet, throughout the room, heads bobbed in agreement to each hollow statement.

Had Wolf missed something here?

“We’re doing important Kingdom work,” Patty added with just enough gravity to earn her…wait for it…an other round of head bobbing from the crowd.

Wolf shifted, gritted his teeth. Swallowed hard.

Open mind, dude. Get your mind open.

“Our goal is simple,” she said. “We want to expand God’s Kingdom to unreached places.”

Yet. Another. Platitude.

Wolf couldn’t take much more.

Thankfully, Mrs. Mulligan turned her attention to the open laptop on the table in front of her. “It’s best if you see the people we’ve met for yourself.”

One keystroke later and a PowerPoint presentation popped up on the screen behind her. In the perfect splash of added drama, a contemporary praise song blared through the computer’s speakers.

For five solid minutes, photographs of men with haunted eyes and missing teeth, women holding impossibly small babies and children with lost appendages slid by on the big screen.

Unable to look away, unable to bear the sight of those sorrowful kids, Wolf’s stomach clenched. It was one thing for the men and women of the U.S. military to put themselves in harm’s way. That was their job, what they’d signed up to do in the recruitment office.

But the Iraqi children couldn’t choose for themselves. They had no control. And IEDs didn’t discriminate.

Wolf shifted in his seat.

Why did the missionaries have to show all those blown-up kids, he wondered?

Oh, yeah, right. He knew why.

This was propaganda. At its finest.

Even still, it was impossible to remain unmoved. Wolf swallowed a lump in his throat the size of a cannonball and proceeded to drum his fingers on his thigh. Faster. Harder. His foot joined the erratic routine.

Those kids. There’s too many to protect. It’s an impossible task.

The music hit a crescendo and Wolf glanced over at Hailey.

She was wiping at her eyes and sniffling. Her conviction was palpable, her passion for the wounded kids evident in the slump of her shoulders when one of their pictures hit the screen.

His job just got harder.

As though sensing his eyes on her, she glanced over at him. Helpless despair was etched on her face.

Wolf knew the feeling.

She gave him a wobbly smile. He smiled back, but he was pretty sure the gesture made him look less than enthusiastic.

Sighing, she reached out and covered his hand with hers, squeezed gently then let go. The light contact, though short, had a soothing effect on him—enough to make him relax against the back of his chair and focus once more on the missionaries’ testimony.

All right, he admitted it. The Mulligans might speak in Christian clichés, but their hearts seemed to be in the right place. Wolf still wasn’t comfortable with their presentation. It wasn’t what they were saying that bothered him so much. It was what they weren’t saying.

Not once did they mention the dangers that came with their posting in an “undisclosed location” of the Middle East. And didn’t that say it all?

They didn’t speak of insurgents or the bounties on Christian ministers’ heads. They didn’t allude to IEDs, except in the subtext—obviously the blown-up children got that way somehow. Bottom line, the Mulligans were giving only one side of the story.

Confused, Wolf searched out J.T. He spotted the pastor lounging against the door frame in the back of the room. His gaze was glued to the screen, his attention completely engaged.

What was wrong with the guy? Surely he saw the flaws in the Mulligans’ presentation.

The missionaries made it sound as if living in the Middle East was some sort of fun-filled adventure, with the added benefit of helping people along the way. Oh, sure, the wife spoke of her loneliness and missing her church friends, but she said nothing—not one word—about burkas or the deep-rooted hatred for Americans.

And nobody in the room but Wolf seemed to notice the glaring omissions.

Lambs to the slaughter.

He couldn’t take it any longer. “I have to get out of here.”

Hailey’s eyes widened. “But you promised,” she murmured. “You said you would stay and listen to the whole presentation.”

“I’ll be back. I just need a moment. I need…” Air.

“I—” She cut herself off and then gave him a short nod. “Okay.”

The woman was certainly playing nice. Wolf appreciated that, until she gave him “the look.” The one people sent him in airports and other public places. That insulting mix of hero worship, horror and sympathy.

Wolf hadn’t expected that from Hailey.

Oddly disappointed, he rose and stalked toward the back of the room. He had a bead on that bright red exit sign and nothing was going to stop him from leaving.

He stepped out of the room without incident. Unfortunately, he was able to enjoy only three minutes of freedom before J.T. had the bad manners to join him.

Well, all right. Good. Wolf had a few things he wanted to say to the pastor.

“What’s up, Wolf?”

Straight to the point. This was Wolf’s kind of conversation. “Those people in there. They aren’t telling the whole story.”

“What are they missing?” J.T. sounded clearly confused.

“Don’t tell me you really send people onto the mission field that unprepared.” Talk about blind faith. Even Joshua had dispatched spies into the Holy Land before engaging in battle.

“What do you mean by unprepared, exactly?”

All right. Maybe Wolf was wrong. Maybe he’d jumped to conclusions. Maybe the real presentation happened later. “What sort of training do you give your missionaries before they leave the country?”

“Training? Oh, you mean preparation.” J.T. nodded in understanding. “Not to worry, Wolf. We don’t send anyone into a foreign country without putting them through an extensive application process.”

Application process? Sounded sketchy to him. “What does that involve, exactly?”

Clearly unhappy with Wolf’s sarcasm, J.T.’s lips flattened. “The usual stuff.”

Right. “Let’s pretend I don’t know what that is.”

J.T. spoke slowly, patiently, as if he were talking to an imbecile. Which they both knew Wolf was not. “We make sure they have a heart for God and a love of His Word. That they understand their job is to plant seeds through relationships. You know, that sort of stuff.”

Now Wolf was insulted. “What about general knowledge of the region, the terrain, the culture? What about basic survival skills?”

J.T. looked at him oddly. “We have classes. They learn how to speak to the unchurched and how to build relationships through common ground.” He was so cool, so in control.

So full of it.

“What about when things go wrong? Are they prepared for that?” Wolf frowned. “I know all about the random kidnappings and ransoms and…worse.”

“There are always safety issues,” J.T. admitted. “But we aren’t naive or stupid. We don’t send our people into the field alone. There’s always a seasoned missionary from that region who guides them along the way, a person who knows the terrain and the culture and, yes.” He held up a hand to stave off Wolf’s argument. “That includes teaching them which areas are safe and which ones to avoid.”

“What do you mean by ‘seasoned’? As in a former soldier, or a cop or even someone who knows how to defend himself properly, someone who hasn’t spent his entire life in country clubs?”

“Ah, I get it now.” J.T. nodded sagely. “You’re worried about Hailey going to the Middle East.”

“Ya think?” Wolf wiped a hand across his mouth, determined to keep his temper in check. “The question is, why aren’t you more concerned? I know you’re former military, so don’t bother denying it.”

“Hadn’t planned on it.”

“Were you ever in Iraq?”

“I was there.” J.T.’s voice came out flat, unemotional. Hard. “Three times. Afghanistan, six.”

Nine deployments to the Middle East? Not possible. For regular Army, anyway. Which meant only one thing. J.T. had been Special Forces.

Now the guy’s behavior really confused Wolf. “If you’ve been over there that many times, you gotta know how dangerous it is to send someone like Hailey into the region unprepared.”

J.T. remained silent. Wolf could almost see the thoughts running through his head. The sorting, sifting, measuring.

Wolf waited, mainly because he could tell that whatever conclusion J.T. was coming to, the guy wasn’t happy about it.

About time.

“Okay, Wolf, maybe you’re right. What Hailey and the others on her team are gearing up to do is beyond our usual scope here at Faith Community Church.” The admission came hard, if his tight lips and stiff tone were anything to go by.

Wolf let out a relieved breath of air. “So you’ll help me discourage Hailey from going to the Middle East.”

“No.”

And they were right back where they’d started.

“But you just said I was right.”

“I said maybe you’re right.”

Semantics? The guy was arguing over word choice?

“There are some things we have to leave up to God,” J.T. added, his tone full of conviction. “We have to trust that His plans are bigger than ours and that His timing is always perfect.”

“Now you’re talking in platitudes?” Wolf expected better from a former Green Beret. At least a little more realism.

“Not platitudes. Truth. We haven’t lost a missionary yet. Not on my watch.”

Before Wolf could challenge him on that shortsighted rationalization, J.T. went back to thinking. He scratched his chin, but this time not a single emotion crossed his face.

At last he dropped his hand to his side. “I admit you make a good point. Sending missionaries into long-term assignments might require more than the usual preparation.”

“Might?”

J.T.’s eyes narrowed in thoughtful consideration. “We could start with a series of classes on basic survival techniques and see where that leads us.”

Okay. They were getting closer to the same page.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Wolf admitted reluctantly. Very reluctantly. After all, what J.T. suggested didn’t solve Wolf’s immediate problem—keeping Hailey out of the Middle East.

“And I think you’d be the perfect person to teach the class.”

“Me?” Wolf’s heart stopped a beat, and in that single instant he experienced all the pain, guilt and regret of the past six months.

He could not, would not—no, no, no—teach any class inside a church. It was hard enough to be here today. He could not walk into this building on a regular basis.

He wasn’t that much of a hypocrite.

“You’re the pastor, J.T. Shouldn’t you teach the class?”

J.T. dismissed the suggestion with a flick of his wrist. “An active-duty soldier would be better.” His lips curved at a shrewd angle. “And it might be just what you need, too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Although, Wolf wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“It would be a chance for you to give back. And who knows, serving others might help you with your guilt.”

Wolf’s shoulders stiffened. “Who said anything about guilt?”

J.T. simply blinked at him, his gaze saying, It’s right there, soldier. In your eyes.

Wolf looked away from all that wisdom and understanding. He didn’t want an ally. Or a friend. His friends were dead.

And Wolf’s guilt was something he had to bear alone, every day, over and over. No amount of churchgoing or talking or serving others would erase his failure on that Iraqi roadside.

But maybe—just maybe—teaching a survival class to a room full of out-of-touch idealists could serve the one goal Wolf might actually be able to achieve.

If he did his job correctly, with just the right spin, he could prove to Hailey how unprepared she was for a trip to the Sandpit.

“All right, J.T. I’ll teach your class on basic survival skills, but only if Hailey signs up.”

“She will. I guarantee it.” J.T.’s grin turned smug. “All I have to do is use my influence on her.”

Yeah, that’s what Wolf was afraid of.

Hailey glanced over her shoulder, craning her neck in the direction of the door Wolf had disappeared through. He’d been gone a long time. J.T., too.

What were they doing? What were they discussing?

Her?

And wasn’t that the most self-centered thought she’d had all day?

Shaking her head, she concentrated once more on the pictures in front of her. The image of a young boy caught her attention. According to Patty Mulligan, he’d been blown up by an IED. And had lost both his legs.

Hailey squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to see her own brother similarly wounded. Or worse, broken and dying on a lonely desert road.

Oh, Clay.

She didn’t hear Wolf return until he slipped into the seat next to her and whispered, “What did I miss?”

Her eyes flew open, but she couldn’t allow herself to look at the man who had been with her dying brother. What must he have seen? How bad had it been?

Did she really want to know?

“You missed more pictures, a few stories,” she mumbled, not quite looking at him, but not quite ignoring him, either. “Ah.”

She started to shift her gaze back to the screen, but something in Wolf’s tone had her turning her full attention back to him.

Her heart skipped a beat. And then another.

Wolf looked…he looked…happy? No, not happy. Pleased. Captain Wolfson was pleased with himself.

Uh-oh.

He smiled, then. A big, carefree grin that made him appear more than a little dangerous. She quickly looked away from all that charm, highly disappointed at the effort it took her to do so.

At last the Mulligans’ presentation came to an end.

Again, Wolf leaned over and spoke in her ear. “Well, that was certainly interesting.”

Again she didn’t like his tone. Nor was she overly fond of the way her body instinctively leaned toward his.

She snapped her shoulders back and sat up straighter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” One of his eyebrows traveled slowly toward his hairline. “I can’t remark on the speech?”

Funny how his answer put her further on edge. “You know you didn’t mean that as a compliment.”

He shrugged, neither denying nor confirming her accusation.

Enigma. That’s what the man was turning out to be. Brooding one minute. Tortured over some distant memory another. Smiling the next. He was full of secret pain and silent regrets. Oh, and charm. Can’t forget the charm.

Hailey didn’t like the way her heart yearned to peel away the hard layers to get to the real man, the one she glimpsed when he smiled, the person who needed her compassion and understanding.

What was wrong with her? Shouldn’t her mind be solely on her upcoming mission work for the Lord? Especially here. Now.

J.T. rescued her by choosing that moment to address the room.

Hailey leaned forward, determined to pay avid attention to whatever her friend had to say.

Wolf started to speak again. She shushed him.

“Did you just shush me?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

He chuckled softly.

J.T. thanked the Mulligans for their presentation, and then added, “Our guests will be available for the next hour to answer any of your informal questions. But before we break away, I want to let you know about a class I’m thinking about offering.”

J.T. made eye contact with Wolf.

Wolf nodded in response.

“What was that about?” Hailey asked.

Wolf shushed her.

Well. Nervy. The man had some kind of nerve.

“It’s been brought to my attention,” J.T. continued, “that the church might want to offer a six-week training course in basic survival skills to anyone going on a mission trip.”

An excited buzz rose in the room.

“Show of hands. Any interest in something like that?”

Dozens of arms shot into the air.

“Excellent. Look for an e-mail in the coming days,” J.T. said before dismissing the group for a short break until the next missionaries took the stage.

Something felt off about what had just happened. Hailey blinked at Wolf. He smirked back.

“Wait a minute.” She looked hard at Wolf, turned her gaze to J.T. then swiveled back to Wolf again. “Are you teaching the new classes?” Her heart clunked against her ribs at the thought.

“Maybe.” He grinned. “Okay, yes.”

“Because…”

“It’s a good idea?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do I think your involvement in this is anything but simple and straightforward?”

“Because you have a suspicious mind?”

“Not before I met you,” she muttered.

Chuckling again, he rose and offered her his hand.

She paused, but then realized she was being rude. She accepted his assistance with her trademark graciousness.

When their palms pressed tightly together, a quick spark of…of…something skidded up her spine. Flustered, she pulled her hand free. “Let’s, uh, let’s go…go meet the Mulligans.”

Had she just stuttered? Really?

“Sorry, Hail.” He looked down at his watch, swayed as he did so. “Your two hours were up ten minutes ago. I’m gone.” He turned on his heel, making a beeline for the exit.

She followed him into the hallway. “You’re walking away? Just like that? What about our agreement? Isn’t it my turn to listen to you?”

“I’d love to stay.” He tunneled an unsteady hand through his hair. “But it’s been a long journey home. At the moment I don’t have much talk left in me.”

Of course. Wolf had only just arrived in Savannah. Today. “You must be exhausted.”

“You have no idea.”

She should insist he leave and get some sleep, right now, but she couldn’t let him go with so much unsettled between them. “Let’s have dinner together Friday night.”

“Are you asking me out?” He looked surprised, but not altogether unhappy at the prospect. “No.” Was she? “Okay, yes. I want to talk about—” she lowered her eyes “—Clay.” Which was true, just not the complete truth.

There was something else going on between her and this bold warrior, something that had nothing to do with her brother. Something that was distinctly theirs. But she didn’t know how to voice any of that.

It was probably best not to try.

“Please, Wolf, I want to know more about my brother’s life in Iraq.” She sighed. “You’re my only connection to him now. You…” Her words trailed off.

He touched her cheek softly. “All right, Hailey. Friday night works for me. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

She instantly remembered the motorcycle he’d roared in on. “No.” She took a calming breath. “I mean. I, uh, I’ll cook.”

Which could end up being far worse. She was a notoriously bad cook. B-A-D. Bad.

Wolf didn’t need to know that, though. She had three days to pick up a few basic culinary skills.

If she failed? Well, there was always takeout.

Chapter Four

Wolf was back in Iraq, on the road outside Baghdad. Clay had taken the driver’s seat, as usual, even though Wolf had argued the point until he’d lost his voice.

The bump up ahead hadn’t moved since the last time they’d taken this route. But it had grown larger, monstrous. The IED underneath the debris was impossible to miss. Yet Clay nosed the truck straight for the bomb.

“Look out!” Wolf shouted, his voice hollow in his ears.

Moving in slow motion, Clay turned to look at him. His features were distorted, his movements uneven. “Don’t worry, Wolf-man, everything’s under control.”

But it wasn’t.

The Humvee dipped, then lurched forward.

Wolf reached out to grip the dashboard. He came up empty.

His breathing quickened into hard, angry puffs. The acrid smell of death surrounded him. He swiped at his forehead.

Bang!

Bang, bang, bang.

Enemy fire. Coming at them fast.

Wolf ducked. The Humvee started its roll.

He grabbed for Clay, but he missed and hit the ground hard. The impact knocked the breath out of him.

He dragged in choking gulps of air.

Another round of gunfire exploded through the air.

Wolf reached for Clay again. This time he caught him. Clay shrugged him off. “Not me. Hailey.” His face turned a dingy gray below the blood-smeared cheeks. “Promise me, Wolf-man, promise you’ll save my sister.”

“I will,” Wolf vowed. “No matter what.”

The rapid-fire shots came again. Faster. Louder. Bang, bang, bang.

Wolf looked frantically around him. His vision refused to focus. “Medic,” he shouted. “We need a medic.”

“Wolf.”

The oddly familiar voice came at him from a distance, like an unwanted echo inside his head.

Bang. Bang.

“Wolf.”

He peered into the darkness that had fallen over the desert. The landscape blurred in front of him.

“Wolf, come on, man.” The voice came at him again. “I know you’re in there. I heard you call out.”

Wolf pushed to his hands and knees.

The ground turned slick under his sweating palms. Slowly the room came into focus. His mind cleared, inch by brutal inch. Right. Right. He was home. Back in the States. In one of the apartments on post. And he’d had The Dream again.

Bang, bang, bang.

Wolf flinched, resisting the urge to take cover.

“Wolf!”

He rolled his shoulders forward, recognizing the low-pitched baritone at last. What was J. T. Wagner doing here?

Shaking off the lingering despair that always came with The Dream, Wolf shoved to a standing position. He moved too quickly and lost his balance. He grabbed for the desk, miscalculated, knocked over a glass, which proceeded to shatter into a thousand little pieces.

“You all right in there?” J.T. called.

“Yeah, yeah, hold on. Just hold on.” Wolf ached everywhere, but forced his feet to move. “I’m coming.”

He made two tight fists with his hands, breathed in slowly. Exhaled. Repeated the process until he was back in control.

Barefoot, he maneuvered carefully around the broken glass and headed toward the door.

With each step anger warred with confusion. What did Hailey’s pastor want with him? And why hadn’t the man used the modern convenience known as a cell phone? If J.T. could find out where Wolf lived, he could have gotten his phone number just as easily.

Wolf kicked aside the duffel bag he had yet to unpack and yanked open the door. “What?”

Unfazed by the rude greeting, J.T. skimmed his gaze over Wolf’s rumpled form. “You look terrible.”

No kidding. The weight of The Dream was still on his chest, like a living, breathing monster determined to drag him back to that day on the Iraqi roadside. Back to… Back to…

He pressed the tips of his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “What time is it?”

“1730.”

Five-thirty? In the afternoon? “And the…uh, day?”

“Thursday.”

Not good. So. Not. Good. He trooped to the lone window in the room and tossed back the curtains. The afternoon light assaulted him, the pain a physical reminder that he was alive. Alive, while Clay and the others were dead.

Wolf’s eyes slowly adjusted, enough to see that the sun was making its descent toward the horizon.

Grimacing, he gripped the curtain tightly inside his fist, then let go. Darkness returned to the room, blinding him as effectively as the light had. “Guess I was more wiped than I thought.”

Making an odd sound in his throat, J.T. flicked on the overhead light. “How long did you sleep?”

Wolf wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “Twenty, maybe twenty-one hours.”

“Ah.”

Confused by this visit, Wolf turned to face J.T. The guy had moved a few steps deeper into the apartment. Apartment being a loose term for the seven-hundred-square-foot dump. The room was made up of cinder blocks, linoleum, a metal desk and a twin bed. But as dismal as the tiny space was, it was twice the size of the room he’d had in Iraq.

J.T.’s gaze drifted around the perimeter. “I take it you haven’t had time to find a permanent place to live.”

“Not yet.” Wolf hoped J.T. was through with the questions. It was none of his business why Wolf had chosen to bunk in a barren apartment reserved for enlisted men and women.

“If you need help finding a place to live,” J.T. offered, “I have a lot of contacts in the area.”

“I’m good.”

“Okay.” J.T. leaned calmly against the wall next to the door. A delusion. There was nothing casual about the guy.

“Why are you here?” Wolf asked.

J.T. didn’t move away from the wall. He just kept…leaning. The guy did a lot of leaning. Strange that Wolf hadn’t noticed that before.

“I thought we could talk about the survival classes you’re going to teach at the church.”

Yeah, right. Like that couldn’t have been done over the phone. “Nothing more?”

J.T. didn’t move, not an inch, but Wolf could see the man morphing into a pastor right before his eyes. Here it came…

“That’s up to you.”

Wolf sighed. Looked like FCC’s young pastor had a new project. “I don’t have anything I need to discuss.”

“Whatever you say, but I’ve been where you are, Wolf, and I think—” J.T. stopped himself midsentence and started over. “Well, anyway, I spoke with the senior pastor about your class this morning. He gave me the go-ahead.”

Wolf waited for the rest. J.T. hadn’t made the twenty-mile trek to Fort Stewart to tell him something he could have relayed in a text message.

Pretending only a mild interest in his surroundings, J.T. inched his way around a camouflage backpack, the unpacked duffel bag and various piles of gear.

For the first time, Wolf noticed the slight catch in the guy’s steps.

How had he missed that?

“If the classes go well we might consider turning them into an ongoing series.”

“That’s nice,” Wolf said, his voice tight. J.T. was clearly working his way around the conversation the same way he’d picked his way through the apartment.

“It would be a great ministry opportunity for a soldier.”

And there it was. The guy’s real agenda.

Wolf shook his head, his uncompromising glare relaying the message No, no. Not me. Not me. He already had a “ministry opportunity.” And her name was Hailey O’Brien.

That was the one good thing about The Dream. Whenever it came, he always woke up more determined to carry out his promise.

“No pressure, Wolf,” J.T. clarified as he perched on a corner of the metal desk. “For now, let’s focus on your first class. I’d like to set it up for next Wednesday.”

That soon? “Any specifics you want me to cover?”

“I’ll let you decide.”

Oh, J.T. was good, tossing the responsibility back at Wolf, making him engage in the task from the get-go. No pressure? Yeah, right.

An awkward silence fell between them. Wolf refused to be the first one to speak.

A mistake. J.T. steered the conversation in a personal direction. “What’s your story, Wolf?”

No way were they going there. “I was wondering the same thing about you.” Wolf shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why’d you leave the military?”

J.T. shrugged, oh so casually, but Wolf noted the closed-off look that filled his expression. Denial. Yep, he recognized that one immediately.

“I was called into ministry.”

Wolf didn’t buy it. “A soldier doesn’t decide to leave the Army one day and become a minister the next,” he challenged, suddenly very interested in what the good pastor had to say next.

“You’re right. My decision didn’t come overnight.” He readjusted his position. The new placement of his leg looked almost unnatural. “Long story short, I’m a better pastor than I was a soldier.”

Which raised a lot of unanswered questions. Like the fact that J.T. was sitting here. With Wolf. At Fort Stewart.

“How’d you get on post?”

The guy broke eye contact. “I drove.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

J.T. sighed. “I was given a medical discharge two years ago.” With slow, purposeful movements, he lifted the left leg of his cargo pants. The ratty hem traveled past a shiny, metal ankle and stopped midway up a plastic calf.

A prosthetic. Wolf drew in a sharp breath.

That kind of injury could easily turn a man bitter. Wolf had seen it happen often enough. But J.T. hadn’t let his disability hold him back. Instead, he’d gone into ministry.

What kind of faith did that take?

More than Wolf would ever have.

An unexpected wave of awe and respect filled him. Despite losing a leg in combat, J.T. had a certainty that radiated from him. He knew his purpose in life.

Wolf didn’t have convictions like that. Not anymore. Despite his recent promotion to captain, he didn’t have any real direction, either.

He realized now, as he stared at the certainty in J.T.’s gaze, that he’d lost more than his friends that day on the Iraqi roadside. He’d lost his faith. And no matter how many Army chaplains quoted Romans 8:28 to him, Wolf didn’t believe God worked all things for the good to those who loved Him. Not anymore.

J.T. dropped his pant leg back into place and put on his pastor face. “My turn for a few questions.”

Wolf nodded. J.T. was a brother in arms, one who’d had the courage to reveal his career-altering injury. Wolf owed him the same courtesy. “All right.”

“Why did you seek out Hailey as soon as you arrived back in the States?”

Wolf forced down the litany of emotions the question awakened and focused only on words. Words he could do. “I made a promise to Clay, right before he died.”

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