A Navy SEAL fights the most important battle of his life—love—in New York Times bestselling author Lindsay McKenna’s Shadow Warriors miniseries

In the mountains of Afghanistan, her daring rescues have made Medevac pilot Sarah Benson a legend. She loves taking her helicopter where others fear to fly—the danger, the adrenaline…and the distraction from thinking about her own hurt heart.

U.S. Navy SEAL Ethan Quinn is man enough to prize Sarah’s valor as well as her beauty. But his efforts to reach his beautiful colleague cannot pierce her armor. Can he prove that it’s possible to find love in a war zone?

Her world anchored around Ethan as his rough hand tipped her chin for better access.

She swam in the mounting fire of his mouth caressing hers, teasing her, asking her to participate and join the scorching heat growing rapidly between them. Sarah trembled violently as his tongue moved slowly across her lower lip and then invited her to respond. It was almost as if he were teaching her how a man could pleasure his woman. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, her breath becoming ragged. Ethan pulled her tightly to him, no space left between their straining bodies. She arched fully against him, wanting more, much more. His fingers trailed tiny fires down across her cheek, framing her face so that he could take her deeper. The last vestiges of her fear dissolved.

Dear Reader,

Risk Taker is about Chief Warrant Officer 4 Sarah Benson, U.S. Army. She pilots a Medevac Black Hawk helicopter and rescues wounded military men on the ground in Afghanistan. She is fierce in her commitment to these men, yet stands apart from them. When U.S. Navy SEAL Ethan Quinn steps onto the scene, Sarah’s life changes. Ethan sees beneath her mask.

Creating this two-book series (Degree of Risk to follow in March 2014 in the Mills & Boon Romantic Suspense line) has been a special joy. I couldn’t have done it without three men who were in my life almost constantly on these two books. For all things SEAL, I’m indebted to Chief Michael Jaco, U.S. Navy SEAL, retired, who helped make the heroic warriors you find in these pages as factual and real as possible.

For all things helicopter-flight related, I turned to my U.S. Air Force helicopter pilot consultant, Bill Marcontell, Captain, USAF, retired, who helped make the helo scenes accurate and breathtaking. Bill, your kindness, sense of humor and heart make it a joy to work with you.

The beautiful poetry you find in this book was written by Darius Gottlieb, poet extraordinaire. Without his generous contribution, Risk Taker wouldn’t be what it is right now—a powerfully moving love story.

I hope you enjoy reading Risk Taker as much as I did creating it. Love always finds a way….

Connect with me at www.lindsaymckenna.com.

Lindsay McKenna

Risk Taker

Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LINDSAY McKENNA

is proud to have served her country in the U.S. Navy as an aerographer’s mate third class—also known as a weather forecaster. She was a pioneer in the military romance subgenre and loves to combine heart-pounding action with soulful and poignant romance. True to her military roots, she is the originator of the long-running and reader-favorite Morgan’s Mercenaries series. She does extensive hands-on research, including flying in aircraft such as a P3-B Orion sub-hunter and a B-52 bomber. She was the first romance writer to sign her books in the Pentagon bookstore. Today, she has created a new military romantic suspense series, Shadow Warriors, which features romantic and action-packed tales about U.S. Navy SEALs. Visit her online at

www.lindsaymckenna.com www.twitter.com/lindsaymckenna www.facebook.com/eileen.nauman

MILLS & BOON

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Chief Michael Jaco, U.S. Navy SEAL, retired, thank you for all unclassified SEAL info you’ve imparted to me. The Intuitive Warrior by Michael Jaco, www.michaeljaco.com

Bill Marcontell, Captain, USAF, retired, who flew Search and Rescue helicopters for the 38th ARRS in Southeast Asia in 1966-67.

Thank you for information involving anything and everything that has to do with helicopters, their flight and their issues.

Darius Gottlieb, poet extraordinaire, who was kind enough to allow me permission to use “As Long As I Breathe, I Will Seek the Diamond of Your Heart” and “A Love Poem to Sarah by Ethan” in this novel. “Love Poems and Other Elixirs” by Darius Gottlieb, www.poetphotos.com

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Excerpt

Chapter 1

They called her Blue Eyes.

Ethan Quinn, a Navy SEAL, turned the ice-cold beer around in his hands as he sat diagonally across the canteen from her. The place was noisy, filled with laughter and with mostly military black ops types. Some were Special Forces, Marine Force Recons, Rangers, CIA spooks, Delta Force or SEALs. There were a couple of tables of Night Stalker pilots in one corner, guzzling beer down like it was their last day on earth. A group of women Apache pilots from the Black Jaguar Squadron at FOB Bravo had a table off in another dark corner. They were drinking beer and chatting among themselves, ignoring the testosterone at the bar looking longingly in their direction.

Ethan had been warned by his SEAL buddies from the platoon stationed at the forward operating base that Blue Eyes shot down every red-blooded American male who tried to sit at her table. Hell, he couldn’t blame any of them for trying. She wasn’t what Ethan would call model beautiful. No, but she had a square face with wide cheekbones, a sinner’s mouth that would beckon to any man and those incredibly beautiful, large blue eyes. He liked the way her shining black hair lay around her shoulders, somewhat mussed, not perfect, but perfect for her.

It didn’t hurt that Blue Eyes was about five feet nine inches tall and curvy as hell. They said she was always in her Army flight uniform, a drab green, when she came in off a medevac mission and ordered a beer. She always sat at the same small wooden table near a wall, where the light wasn’t so bright. Where she could hide? Ethan wondered.

Someone else had told him over at the SEALs HQ that Blue Eyes was single. How they knew that, Ethan couldn’t fathom. No one in the military wore rings on their fingers since it was against the rules. A ring could cause you to lose a finger under the right circumstances. He snorted softly to himself as he lifted the beer to his lips and drank deeply of the cold, bubbling liquid.

Some sex-starved jerk must have spread the word that she was single because he’d wanted her to be single. Not that Ethan knew anything one way or another about her. Base gossip had buzzed among the competitive Delta Force operators. They were betting which one of them would get to her first. Ethan had declined to join the bet. Women weren’t pieces of meat to be sold to the highest bidder.

He felt sorry for her, being the center of so much male attention and curiosity. How would he feel under a constant spotlight like that? Blue Eyes often sat with the Black Jaguar Squadron women pilots, but not today. The women, he’d found, usually stuck together, such a small percentage versus the thousand men who worked at Camp Bravo. Talk had spread that when Blue Eyes had bad missions, she sat by herself, wanting to be left alone.

He tipped his head slightly forward so he could watch her without her seeing him stare blatantly at her. What was it about Blue Eyes that set fire to the male imagination? She did look sad. Her full mouth was slightly pursed, the corners drawn in, as if she was experiencing pain of some kind. Even in the poor light of the naked bulbs strung overhead in the canteen, he could see the breath-stealing color of her eyes.

The color reminded Ethan of the calved glaciers up in Alaska where he was born. When a glacier split and fell into a bay, the light pierced through the newly created sections, revealing a translucent turquoise blue. It was the most unearthly color he’d ever seen in his life. And now, through his short lashes, he was staring at eyes that were the same remarkable color. They were absolutely mesmerizing. No wonder guys hit on her. What would he do if he really saw her, up close and personal? Judging from the stories circulating among the SEAL platoon, guys were rendered speechless and stood like stunned, hormone-ridden teenagers before her.

Her gaze looked far-off as her slender hands held the can of beer. Sometimes she’d move her thumb, pushing beads of condensation away. What was she thinking about? Where was she? Ethan could see she was completely oblivious to the milling group of men surrounding the bar. They all watched her like hungry predatory animals on the hunt. Every last damn one of ’em. The flight suit didn’t exactly spell out her lush body. Though Ethan figured he’d have to be dead not to see the way the green folds curved here and there, giving hints to her hidden assets.

She seemed lonely to him. He found himself holding his breath for a moment as she tipped the beer up and her full lips touched the edge of the can. Two things made him go hot. First, that full mouth of hers, the lower lip slightly pouty. Second, her grace as she tipped her head back, revealing the long, slender column of her throat. His juices were definitely going—and he wasn’t alone.

Ethan laughed to himself. Women in combat were okay with him. They’d more than earned their stripes in battles across the Middle East, long ago proving they could get the job done. But there was just a damned demarcation line drawn between males and females. And he couldn’t fully explain the pleasure of simply watching a woman move. It was magic. It was hypnotic. It was...well, hell, there were way too many lonely men, married or otherwise, at this FOB. Women were a different energy, different anatomy, different in the best of ways that just hooked a man’s full, undivided attention.

Ethan couldn’t sit there and admit he wasn’t attracted to her. He was. But so was his heart. This wasn’t just about sex. Sex would be great. But there were deeper layers to Blue Eyes that he wanted to explore, ones that had nothing directly to do with sex. Maybe he was curious. Or infatuated like every other dude on the FOB.

He’d arrived at Camp Bravo last week as a straphanger, a SEAL from another platoon who replaced a man who had been badly injured. Charlie Platoon lost their radio comms guy. Ethan’s specialty was just that. Patrols always wanted someone who knew how to work the radios, the laptop, the connections with Apaches. He was JTAC trained and able to talk to the loitering F-18 Hornets and B-52s on racetracks that circled forty thousand feet above them. Because when a crisis happened, it was the comms SEAL that saved the collective ass of the team out on a mission.

“Hey, Ethan. How’s it goin’, bro?”

Ethan looked up to see his LPO, lead petty officer, Derek Tolleson. He walked over and pulled a chair up at his table, a beer in hand.

“Okay. Just trying to get this damn sand out of my throat.”

Tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed Tolleson chuckled. “Yeah, man, I know what you mean,” he said as he sat down. He tipped his beer back and drank half of it. Tolleson wiped his hand across his mouth and then rubbed his unruly beard. “Thank God they let us have beer out here.” He shook his head. “Don’t know what I’d do if they didn’t.”

SEALs were beer drinkers, pure and simple. Ethan smiled a little and took another sip.

“You just got here a few days ago—did you meet Blue Eyes yet?”

“I heard some of the guys talkin’ about her last week,” Ethan admitted. He turned and looked over at Tolleson, who was in his SEAL cammies, wearing a SIG pistol in a drop holster on his right thigh.

“I’d say you picked the perfect place to look without touching.” He chuckled. “Nice stealth move.”

“She’s good-lookin’. You’ve got to admit that.”

“I’ve been here three months, and that’s the table she always sits at when she’s not over at the Apache women pilot’s table. Probably had a bad mission today and not up for chatting. Or at least that’s the scuttlebutt I hear about why she sits alone.” He ruffled his fingers through his short, sweaty hair. “What gets me is she looks so damned sad. Like she’s going to cry or something.”

“Who knows her around here?”

Shrugging, Tolleson moved the can around and around in his large hand. “She’s attached to the medevac squadron. Flies a Black Hawk helicopter.”

“Pilot or copilot?”

“I heard she’s a chief warrant officer and a pilot in command. Why?”

Ethan drawled, “Well, I’m single, and if scuttlebutt is true, she’s single. I’d like to meet her, warrant or not.” Ethan was a first-class petty officer and warrants were out of his pay grade. They weren’t supposed to fraternize per military law, but that had never stopped him before. He took a sip of beer and wiped his mouth. He needed to trim his beard because it was getting too long.

Snorting, Tolleson said, “You and the thousand other dudes here. I’m married, so I’m not interested.”

“I was thinking of going over to her squadron at Ops and snooping around, getting some dope on her. Find out if she’s really single or not.”

“She’d see you comin’ a mile away, bro. A SEAL snooping around Ops? You don’t fly—you hitch rides. And she’d know in a heartbeat if you were scheduled out there on a patrol with a banana or not.”

A banana was the odd-looking CH-47 Chinook helicopter, their main air transportation around Afghanistan. Ethan finished off his beer. “You’re right. I’ll probably just keep a tab on her here and see what gels over time. I have a lot of patience.”

“Uh-oh,” Tolleson muttered, gesturing toward Blue Eyes’s table. “There goes a Delta dude thinkin’ she’s gonna swoon when he walks over to her table to dazzle her with his one-liners.”

Ethan watched as a tall, muscular red-haired Delta operator strutted toward Blue Eyes’s table. He had on all his gear, probably just came off an op like they had. It was the arrogance in his walk, which was typical for a Delta type, meant to impress her. Ethan had a hunch it wasn’t going to do anything except piss her off.

Ethan leaned toward Tolleson. “What does she do when this happens? Shoot the dude in the balls?”

Tolleson laughed. “No, but close. She has a black belt in karate. I heard one time a CIA case agent invited himself to her table. He sat down, and she told him to leave. He didn’t. She warned him that if he didn’t go on his own accord, she was going to throw him out of the chair he was sitting in.”

Ethan grinned. “And?”

“She threw his sorry ass about five feet away and he landed on the floor, his pride hurt.” He grinned. “Blue Eyes might look sweet and sad, but she packs a punch, so be warned.”

Ethan didn’t think he’d try that ploy on her. The whole bar quieted as the Delta dude swaggered to a halt in front of her. He gave her a big grin and put his hands on his hips. Ethan was amazed at how everything went silent in the canteen; all eyes were riveted on the confrontation.

“Sweet cheeks, what do you say I buy you a beer? You look like you need another round.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. Women hated lines. Not that he hadn’t thrown a few at them, too, but it almost always backfired. Judging from the narrowing of Blue Eyes’s gaze, Delta’s line was about as popular as a fart in a sleeping bag.

“No, thank you.”

Delta shook his head. “Come on, honey. Just one for the road? I’ll buy.” He gave her a leering grin.

“Here it comes,” Tolleson warned him in a whisper.

Blue Eyes’s relaxed face went hard. Military hard. And those wide, gorgeous eyes of hers narrowed even more and became laser intense on Delta. Her luscious mouth curled into a slight sneer, and Ethan knew she wasn’t going to sit still for this kind of macho nonsense.

“I really don’t want to embarrass you in front of your guys, Captain, so why don’t you leave while you can? That way, your pride will remain intact.”

Delta jerked his head, mouth opening and then snapping shut. His eyes rounded, as if stunned by her response. His cheeks colored, and he started breathing hard, angry. “Who the hell do you think you are, bitch? I was being nice was all.”

She gave him a cool, cutting smile. “Get over yourself. You black ops types are all alike. You think you’re God’s direct gift to women. I got news for you—you aren’t.”

Her voice was low and controlled. Ethan looked up toward the bar to see three other Delta operators watching and frowning. Would they be as stupid as he thought they were going to be? Jump into this little tempest in a teapot? And then, sure enough, all three of them started toward her table, as if on cue.

“Dammit,” Ethan breathed, standing. All he’d wanted was an ice-cold beer and to sit and recharge after a fourteen-hour ball-busting patrol in the more than one-hundred-degree heat in that furnace of a desert. Not get into a fight with other operators.

“Yeah,” Tolleson growled, following him. “Good odds for SEALs...”

They walked across the plywood floor and met the three Delta operators, stopping them before they could reach Blue Eyes’s table.

Ethan confronted them. “Hey, guys, let’s ramp this down, shall we?”

“Get the hell outta our way, tadpole,” the tallest operator snarled.

Tolleson held up his hand. “Hey, come on. Name callin’ isn’t gonna help resolve this situation.”

The big blond Delta operator sneered. “Why don’t you two frogs go back to your friggin’ lily pad and sit this one out? You weren’t invited to this party.”

Ethan glared at them. SEALs were a pretty laid-back group, generally speaking. They didn’t strut around like roosters in a hen yard. They were night shadows, kept a low profile. They didn’t start fights, but they sure as hell finished them. “Since when,” he asked, raising his voice so everyone in the canteen could hear him, “does it take four Delta guys to pick on one Black Hawk pilot who just happens to be a woman?”

All three Delta operators colored with embarrassment as jeers, hoots and insults erupted from the rest of the men and women in the crowded canteen. They threw their middle fingers up in the air in response. The catcalls increased in volume.

Tolleson tried to calm them down. “Look, take a time-out, okay? The lady doesn’t want company, so leave her alone.”

Ethan looked like he was casually standing in front of the three Delta guys, who were now angry. But looks were deceiving. There was a commotion behind him. He turned to see if Blue Eyes was in distress.

“Why don’t all you boys grow up?” Blue Eyes snarled as she halted and glared at them. “You’re an embarrassment to the human race!”

With that, Blue Eyes spun around on her booted heel and marched angrily out the door.

More hoots, hollers and laughter broke out. The Delta dude who’d tried to pick up Blue Eyes brushed by them and went back to the bar with his buddies. Ethan looked sheepishly over at Tolleson and shrugged his shoulders.

Ethan ambled back to their table. Tolleson was grinning.

“A little excitement,” he said, sitting down.

“We get enough excitement out on patrols without this,” Ethan muttered. He pulled his black baseball cap out of his pocket and settled it on his head. “Later. I’m off to the showers to get this grit off my skin.”

Tolleson tipped the chair back, still smiling. “I’m right behind you. I’ll bet Blue Eyes thinks you’re a knight in shining armor, coming to her rescue. You were the first dude to stand up to stop those Delta guys.”

Snorting, Ethan shook his head. “Doubtful. She lumped all of us into that comment. Or did you not get that?” Judging from her demeanor and coolness under fire with the Delta guys, she didn’t need any hero to protect her. Nope, she was a Black Hawk driver and she risked her life, day in and day out, landing in hot landing zones, RPGs being thrown at her helo, to rescue wounded men or women who desperately needed medical help or would die in the battlefield. If anyone was a hero...it was her. “Later,” he murmured to Tolleson.

“We got mission planning at 0800 tomorrow,” the LPO reminded him.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Ethan growled, sauntering out into the bright sunlight. The canteen was in the center of Camp Bravo. To his left, Ops and the runway. He heard a C-130’s whistling engines as it came in for a landing. The smell of kerosene aviation fuel used by the helicopters was everywhere; the wind carried it in his direction. Overhead, the June Afghan sun bore down on him like a heat lamp out of control. Already Ethan was starting to sweat again. The eight-thousand-foot mountain where the FOB was located was dry and freakin’ burning up under the heat. He was from Anchorage, Alaska—he loved the cold and hated desert infernos.

Ethan quickly walked down the avenues of camouflage tents sitting on concrete blocks with plywood floors. The dirt was fine and dusty and got into every crack, pore and crevice that a human being owned, not to mention his M4 rifle and the SIG pistol he always wore.

The sky was a light blue as he walked alertly down several other avenues, heading for the showers. There were only forty SEALs on this black ops FOB. They were a small but mighty contingent on this 24/7 base.

He turned down toward the main supply building, an area clear of tents and a shortcut to the men’s showers.

“You sonofabitch! Get off me!”

Ethan wheeled around toward the woman’s angry voice. His eyes widened when he saw Blue Eyes down in the dirt with an enlisted Army sergeant on top of her, groping at her flight suit. The sergeant’s big hand reached down and ripped open the front of her uniform. He held her down with his other hand, fingers closing around her throat.

Blue Eyes weighed a good hundred pounds less than the guy, but, as Ethan ran swiftly and silently up behind him, she was giving a damned good account of herself. The man’s nose was broken and bleeding, and he sported a black eye. SEALs made a living out of being shadows. With one swift movement of his fist, he coldcocked the unknown assailant in his left temple. The man went flying off her, knocked unconscious.

Ethan turned. “You okay?” he asked, kneeling down. She had blood on her cheek, and her nose was bleeding heavily.

“That stupid bastard,” she breathed angrily, trying to pull her torn uniform closed at her neck.

Her eyes were blue fury. Ethan glanced over his shoulder—the stranger was out cold. “He won’t bother you again,” he murmured, giving her a concerned look. Her hair was dirty, and blood ran down her lips and dripped off her chin. Digging out the dark green bandanna he always wore when out on patrol, he said apologetically, “It’s dirty, but maybe you can use it to stop your nose from bleeding?”

She gave him a mutinous look, grabbed it and pressed it against her nose. “Thanks,” she mumbled, rolling over to her hand and knees.

“Are you hurt? Can I get you over to the dispensary?” Ethan held out his hand, but she refused it.

“I’m all right!” She tried to rise, but her knees buckled beneath her.

Ethan moved swiftly, catching her before she hit the ground again. “Okay, look,” he coaxed in a low, even voice. “You aren’t in any shape to be going anywhere just yet. Did he hit you?” Dumb question: he could see she’d been struck. He was trying to talk her down so she’d become reasonable.

“Hell, yes, he hit me!” She glared up at him, breathing hard, gripping her uniform closed so he couldn’t see her bra beneath it.

“Where?” Ethan asked quietly, as if he were talking to a fractious horse he was trying to settle down. He knelt near but kept his hands off her. He didn’t want a broken nose.

“The head. He jumped me from behind, the sonofabitch!” She glared over at his unmoving body.

Ethan looked at her dust-covered brow and noticed swelling on her right temple. “He tried to knock you out.”

“Ya think?”

Ethan nodded, knowing Blue Eyes was in shock. Her hand trembled, and there were tears in her eyes. “Well, he won’t do it again,” he promised her. Assaulting any officer was a major offense, and the man would be going up for court-martial.

“I hope you killed him. I wonder how many other military women he’s stalked and jumped and then raped?” Her lower lip quivered with fury as she looked accusingly up at him.

Ethan saw Tolleson coming with a set of towels, a washcloth and soap in hand. He gestured sharply for him to get his ass over there pronto.

Tolleson skidded to a stop, his eyes widening as he looked down at them and then at the unconscious man. “What the hell happened?”

“The guy jumped Blue Eyes—I mean...” Ethan gave her an apologetic look, making a point of looking at the last name embroidered in black across the top of the left pocket of her flight uniform, “Chief Warrant Officer Benson.”

Tolleson nodded, stepped back and pulled a radio out of his cammie pocket. He called the military police and gave them their location. He looked down. “Do you need medical help, Chief Benson?”

“Hell, no! I just want to get out of here and get back to my tent.” She looked down at her dusty uniform.

Ethan felt sorry for her. She was angry and upset. He could see her tremble as adrenaline raced through her bloodstream. “I can walk you to your tent, Chief Benson. Tell me what you need?” She seemed to calm a little beneath his quiet tone. Tears splattered down her cheeks, making trails through the dust.

“Just help me up, will you? I need to get to my tent and get cleaned up.” She reluctantly held her hand out toward him.

Ethan stood up and wrapped his fingers around hers, gently pulling her to her feet. She wobbled on unsteady knees. Her attacker had nearly knocked her out. A dark fury moved through Ethan. Delta Dude and his team had remained in the canteen. Had this Army sergeant been waiting for the first woman who walked by to attack her? Had Blue Eyes been at the wrong place at the wrong time?

Ethan cupped her left elbow. “Come on,” he urged her quietly. “I’ll take you to your tent. Just give me directions.” He felt a shift, as if his whole life was about to change.

Chapter 2

Sarah felt her knees going. Again. God, why couldn’t she just tough this one out? The SEAL who had intervened and saved her hide swiftly reacted. In seconds, he’d picked her up and brought her into his arms.

“Put me down,” she ordered angrily.

“Can’t do it, ma’am. I’m taking you to the medical dispensary.”

Ethan’s voice was low and firm. His arms were strong. Sarah closed her eyes, fighting the urge to simply surrender to him. The rage she felt over the attack was dissolving as the adrenaline slowly left her system. She was exhausted and, worse, weak. A feeling she hated more than anything.

“You can relax,” Ethan told her, his lips near her hair. “There’s a time to fight and a time to take a step back and reassess the situation.”

Sarah also felt needy, which was so unlike her. His voice was soothing, and the anxiety rushing through her abated. He carried her easily, as if she were a feather, and yet Sarah knew she was no lightweight. As she held his green bandanna over her nose, the blood continued to leak out of her nostrils. Her nose burned like fire and her head throbbed.

She looked up at him. He glanced down at her. His beard, although well trimmed, made him look even more dangerous to her. His eyes were a light gray with large black pupils, like those of a raptor.

“Doing okay?” Ethan asked her in a conversational tone.

“I’ve had better days,” Sarah muttered. She saw the corners of his mouth lift slightly. There was such tightly held tension in him. She’d seen him move so damn swiftly when he saw what was happening to her; it left her stunned. He was grace, tension and power all in one decisive action. “You’re a SEAL?”

“Yeah.” Ethan laughed to himself. He hid a part of himself from his SEAL brethren; he journaled and, sometimes, wrote poetry to express what he saw or experienced. It was a way to get his emotions out instead of always putting them in his kill box, which was what all his brothers did.

She saw his focus. He was carrying her through rows of tents, alert and missing nothing. Intense. That was the word she’d use for this SEAL. Slowly, Sarah reluctantly relaxed into his arms. He had a powerful chest and a broad set of shoulders that looked like he could carry the world on them. Even though his face was hard and nearly unreadable, she sensed kindness in him. Maybe it was his full mouth, now pursed, holding back feelings she couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“You can put me down now. I’m okay.”

Ethan smiled at her. “Not a chance.”

“The pilots in my squadron will make fun of me. I really need to walk.” And she hated pleading, but she added, “Please?”

His straight black brows dipped a little at her request. There was hesitation in his gray eyes. Sarah touched her aching throat where the bastard had gripped her and held her down.

“Tell you what,” Ethan murmured. “If any of those Black Hawk drivers give you grief because I’m carrying you over to the dispensary, you let me know.” He gave her a slight grin. “I’ll settle it out with them privately and personally. Okay?”

Sarah sighed. “Are all SEALs stubborn?” She heard and felt him laugh.

“We’re a hardheaded bunch, I suppose. I’d like to think we’re focused and intense about our objective.” And right now, he couldn’t believe he was carrying Blue Eyes in his arms. He was in another kind of shock. A good kind, but he wasn’t about to share his euphoria with her.

Ethan turned a corner and up ahead was the two-story dispensary that had been built out of cinder blocks. It wasn’t very large, with only two Navy doctors and a small staff of two nurses and several combat medics manning it. When any serious medical issues came up, the person was flown directly to Bagram Air Base near Kabul.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, glancing down at her. She was very pale. Those beautiful blue eyes of hers were shadowed and frightened-looking.

“Whipped,” Sarah admitted, feeling safe enough in his arms. She would never admit that to the male pilots she flew with. They’d call her weak once they found out what had just happened to her. And then they’d brutally tease her or tell her it was her fault, that she’d invited the attack. She hated that.

“I’m Ethan Quinn. What’s your first name?”

She looked up and drowned in his soft gray eyes. Opening her lips and then closing them, Sarah felt an incredible sense of protection surrounding her. It was him. Reeling from the attack, she didn’t have her normal defensive walls in place. “Sarah Benson.”

He nodded. “My teammates call me Hawk.” And then he smiled a little. “You have a beautiful name.” To go with your incredible blue eyes. But he didn’t add that, seeing her eyes widen as if in wonder for a moment. There was a definite connection between them. He could feel it. The sensation, whatever it was, was palpable and it felt damn good.

Ethan knew where the E.R. was located; he’d been there the other day with Tolleson, escorting another SEAL because he’d twisted the hell out of his ankle.

He walked up to the sliding doors, then waited as they opened. Inside, there were a number of military guys waiting for medical attention at the clinic. They looked up in unison at him as he entered the air-conditioned dispensary.

Moving through another entrance, Ethan carried Sarah directly into the E.R. area.

It contained four curtained cubicles. A Navy nurse at the nurse’s station in the corner saw him arrive. She was older and had peppered hair of black and silver.

“Chief Benson needs medical attention right now,” Ethan told the nurse. “Which cubicle can I put her in?”

Sarah felt his authority even though he spoke quietly to the nurse. The older woman quickly looked her over.

“Cubicle one, Petty Officer.”

“One it is,” Ethan said.

The nurse called for an orderly—a young man—and by the time Ethan had gently deposited Sarah onto the gurney, a woman doctor had arrived. He stood back, letting the medical team help Sarah.

“What happened?” Dr. Johnson asked Sarah.

Sarah told her, mumbling through the bandanna. The doctor scowled, then glanced over at the SEAL and asked, “Who is he?”

“Petty Officer Quinn. He broke up the attack,” Sarah told her. “And he brought me over here. I’m not walking very well right now.”

“I see.” The doctor stared at Ethan. “You need to leave, Petty Officer. Thank you for your help.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan murmured, starting for the opening in the curtain.

“Wait,” Sarah called, gripping his arm as he passed her. She looked at him. “There’s going to be an investigation. Can you tell the MPs where I am? I know they’ll want my statement.”

Seeing the exhaustion settling into her blue eyes, Ethan nodded. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll tell them and get things in order so you don’t get overwhelmed by the paper chase.” He gave her a brief smile and felt her hand drop from his arm. His flesh tingled where her long fingers had curved around his biceps. Ethan saw something else in her eyes, something he couldn’t translate. Her lower lip trembled as she took the bandanna away for a moment. He wanted to say to hell with it, slide his arms gently around her shoulders and just hold her. She needed that right now, and they both knew it. But it wasn’t going to happen.

“I’ll check in on you later,” he promised.

Sarah nodded, pressing the bandanna back to her nose, which continued to bleed.

As he stepped out into the E.R., Ethan noticed two medics carrying in the Army guy he’d punched. The man was semiconscious, muttering and cursing. Ethan stopped and watched where they put the bastard. Lucky for him it was cubicle four, as far away from Sarah as he could get. Flexing his fist, his knuckles swelling and bruised, Ethan wondered if he should stay. Just in case the Army jerk started to make more trouble for everyone. He was sure the assailant didn’t know he’d just brought Sarah in. The guy was ballistic in his opinion and not to be trusted.

Two Army MPs entered the E.R. Both had grim looks on their faces. They went directly to where the Army guy was being taken. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ethan knew the MPs would stand guard over him. He felt better about leaving Sarah alone now. Tolleson had done his job and gotten security in motion.

To say that security was in chaos was a mild understatement when Ethan arrived at the single-story building. Four Army guys, probably friends of the assailant, argued heatedly with a Army lieutenant, with an MP armband on his left arm, outside the office. They didn’t know he was the one who had decked their friend. He moved past them and went into the MP office. He spotted a young woman with red hair behind the desk. Ethan told her who he was and what had happened.

“You’re the guy we want to see,” she said, gesturing to an office on her right. “Lieutenant Taylor will want to take your statement. Can you tell me where Chief Benson is?”

“The E.R.,” he told her. “She’s pretty shaken up and she’s been injured.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, leading him to the office and opening the door. “I’ll go over in a while and interview her. I’m sure she’s feeling pretty ragged at this point.”

Ethan nodded. “Yeah, but the bastard that attacked her is feeling even worse.” And he smiled a wolf smile.

* * *

“Well,” Dr. Johnson told Sarah an hour later after examining her. “No permanent damage done, Chief Benson.”

Sarah was sitting on the gurney. “That’s good news. I have to fly tomorrow.”

“No way,” Johnson said. “I think you’ve suffered a mild concussion even though the X-ray came back normal. I’m giving you a sick chit for four days without flight duty. Then you will come back and see me on the fourth day. The nurse will give you an appointment.”

Stricken, Sarah slid off the gurney, her legs none too steady. Too fast a movement—her head began to throb. She touched the area where the man had struck her. “But...we’re short-handed in our squadron, Dr. Johnson. I can’t be put on flight waivers.” She gave the Navy officer a pleading look.

“No can do, Chief Benson.” Johnson handed her the chit, which would be given to her CO, Major Donaldson. “Rest,” she ordered. “Go over and spend some time with the Apache gals. I know you women are tight with one another. Catch up on gossip. Write some emails home. Things that won’t stress you out. Okay?”

Disheartened, Sarah glumly took the chit. Dammit! Angry at the Army sergeant who attacked her, she pursed her lips.

“Hop back up on that gurney. I want you to stay here for another half hour, and then we’ll see how steady you are on your legs at that time. You’re still not stable.”

“Okay,” Sarah muttered tiredly. Hell, she needed this like a hole in the head. They were already short two pilots, and medevacs were literally a lifeline to all the men out there hunting down the enemy.

Dr. Johnson gently patted the shoulder of her dusty uniform. “That SEAL was at the right place, right time.” She smiled a little. “He really did some damage to the guy who attacked you.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “He came out of nowhere.”

“Hope you get to thank him.”

Nodding, Sarah said, “I will.”

* * *

By the time Ethan got done with the process of the interview with the lieutenant, it was 1800, 6:00 p.m. He was starving, but he swung by the E.R. to see if Sarah was still there. She was gone, and no one would give him any information on her condition because he wasn’t married to her or a family member. Undeterred, Ethan decided to walk over to Ops to see if he could find her.

The thunking noise of Apache helicopters warred with the shriek of the twin-rotor Chinooks as they all slowly trundled down the helo strip to take off, one after another. Ethan popped into the main Ops building and headed for the desk. There was an Air Force tech sergeant manning it.

“Hey, I’m looking for Chief Warrant Officer Sarah Benson. Can you tell me where I can find her?”

The man nodded. “The medevac squadron office is right over there, to your left. Major Donaldson is in charge. He can probably answer your question.”

“Thanks,” Ethan said. The door to the medevac office was open, and he stepped in. An Army major in his mid-forties with gold wings on his chest looked up. His gaze narrowed speculatively as Ethan came to a halt in front of him.

“I’m looking for Chief Warrant Officer Benson.”

The man scowled, looking Ethan up and down. “Is it official business?” he demanded.

“No, sir, it isn’t.” Ethan could just about read the officer’s mind, thinking he was chasing Sarah.

“She’s not available,” he snapped.

Okay, so plan B. “Thank you, sir.” Ethan turned on his heel and left. Heading out of Ops, he found an Army driver standing near a Humvee. Drivers on the base knew the area like the backs of their hands. Ethan went over and asked what tent section the Black Hawk pilots were located in. The guy gave him specific directions, and Ethan took off, on the hunt.

The tents were all lined up on one dusty avenue, each one looking like the next. There were no names on any of them, and Ethan slowly walked down the road. A male pilot—a warrant officer—emerged from his tent. Ethan stopped him and asked about Sarah. Instantly, the pilot frowned. What was it about these Black Hawk drivers? They were all damned suspicious.

“I haven’t seen her,” he said abruptly.

“Look, she was in E.R. two hours ago. I’m just trying to find out how she’s doing.”

He squinted. “You the SEAL that saved her?”

Ethan nodded.

The pilot pointed to a tent down on the left. “That’s her tent. But you know the regulations—no man is allowed inside a woman’s tent.”

“I know the regs,” Ethan said.

“She’s sleeping right now. I’d leave her alone.” Ethan watched the pilot push by him, in a hurry, heading toward Ops with his helmet bag and kneeboard in hand. He was probably going on duty.

Ethan stared at Sarah’s tent. Okay, it was a dead end. His stomach growled. Rubbing his belly, he decided to call it a day and head to the chow hall. He glanced down at his Rolex watch, knowing he’d already screwed the pooch by missing the 1700 hours mission briefing for the op they would go on later tonight.

Ethan decided to swing by SEAL HQ. Tolleson understood why he couldn’t make the briefing, so there should be no recourse. Master Chief Gil Hunter wouldn’t bust his ass, either.

As he walked, he couldn’t stop thinking about Sarah. She’d felt good in his arms, and he’d thrilled at having her firm, soft body against his. Dragging in a deep breath, Ethan shook his head. He sure as hell had wanted to meet Blue Eyes, but not this way. Now she probably would lump all guys into one bin labeled “would-be rapists.” And then she wouldn’t allow him within ten feet of her.

Grimacing, Ethan flexed his right hand as pain drifted up from his swollen knuckles. He couldn’t deny his satisfaction over decking the bastard. It was worth bruised knuckles for a week. More than anything, he wanted to connect once more with the mysterious, exotic Blue Eyes. But how to make it happen? SEALs were creative if nothing else. They were good at thinking outside the box. Work-arounds. Ethan grinned and took off for his tent in SEAL territory.

Chapter 3

When Sarah sat up on her cot the next morning, her head aching, she saw someone open the tent flap just enough for a crisp white envelope to slide beneath the fabric of the closed flaps. She recognized the back of Ethan Quinn’s head. What was he doing there? What was the envelope? Did he go get her mail for her? The feelings over his act flooded her with warmth and confusion.

She needed coffee first. It would help tame her headache. She sat in a pair of long gray cotton gym pants and a red tank top. In case Bravo got hammered by Taliban, her flight boots, her .45 pistol in the holster, her Kevlar vest and her helmet bag were all stowed below her cot.

She was stiff and bruised. In fact, her knuckles were black and blue where she’d struck her attacker in the nose. She moved her long fingers gingerly, and they felt stiff, too. Sighing, she went over to her hot plate and set a copper kettle on it to boil. Coffee consisted of a terrible instant variety, but it was better than nothing.

The envelope sitting on the plywood deck called to her. It resembled a greeting card more than a business letter. Once the teakettle whistled, she took it off the hot plate and poured the steamy water into a bright red mug twice the size of a normal coffee cup.

After stirring her coffee, Sarah pulled out a couple of old cinnamon rolls she’d taken from the chow hall yesterday morning. This would be breakfast. Outside, she could hear helos, both Apaches and Chinooks, spooling up, their engines sounding very different and distinct. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. Her lower arm, she noticed to her chagrin, was purple with bruising. It was 0600.

Scowling, she set the two dried-out cinnamon rolls on the small TV tray that doubled as her table. There wasn’t much room in these tents and everything had to be squeezed in to fit. Leaning down, her back protesting, she scooped up the envelope. On it, in beautiful black ink calligraphy, was her name.

Ethan Quinn had delivered it. Was it from him? There was no return address. Nothing. After ambling back over to her table, she sat down in a camp chair and picked up her black coffee, sipping it gratefully. She then slipped her finger beneath the envelope, and it opened. Inside was thick papyrus paper that almost matched the color of her eyes. Something good flowed through her.

Sitting back, she opened up the folded paper. Inside was a poem written in beautiful calligraphy.

Sarah,

As Long as I Breathe, I Will Seek the Diamond of Your Heart

It isn’t enough for a poet to entertain;

I want also to connect—

There are precious few who ever get to view

Both the wildflowers and ornate lawns of your garden...

(to be continued as poet gets time)

She smiled and felt her heart flutter. The letters were crisp and lovely to look at. Ethan had written this? Someone at this forward operating base was a poet, of all things? Ethan? He had delivered it. Or was this a sick joke by her squadron mates? Her mind revolved back to her medevac squadron, wondering if one of the guys was pulling a trick on her. For all she knew, someone could have stolen this from a real poet to make it look like he’d written it. Her heart told her Ethan had not only delivered but had written it.

Still, her fingertips tingled as she held the rich paper. The words, if she were honest, touched her deeply. She loved symbolism and saw it in just about everything in her life. Growing up, she’d found solace reading poetry. Although she couldn’t write a line of iambic pentameter to save her life. Intuitively, Sarah knew Ethan had written it even if he hadn’t signed it.

She looked at the green metal locker in the corner of her tent. In it was her favorite book of poems, a small leather-bound volume by a Jewish American poet who wrote lush, drenching prose that made her heart sigh just as it did with this stanza of a poem Ethan had written for her.

Sarah felt oddly comforted by the words. Did Ethan see her as a garden filled with beautiful flowers? Was that his message? An invisible balm eased through her heart. Here she was, out in a war zone, getting shot at almost daily, and this beautiful poem arrived at the door of her tent. The title...well, that held her heart captive, too. Wouldn’t any woman want the man of her dreams to whisper those words to her? That she was seen as a diamond, multifaceted, complex, having depth? Of course. Well, she would. Her experience with men had left her wary. To them, she was something to be lusted after. Something to be chased and caught and used.

Her lips drew into a soft smile as she reread the lines of the stanza. They made her feel good. An invisible touch from a potential lover? Snorting softly, she laid the envelope aside and picked at a cinnamon roll. She was such a sucker for stuff like this. A romantic idealist, which was not a good way to be. Her love life resembled the chaos of a bull hooking its horns around in a china shop, not the reverent beauty of the words contained in this poem.

As she sipped her coffee, Sarah felt a kind of mellowness invading her stiff limbs. Ethan’s words were beautiful. And profound. And sensitive.

Shaking her head, she thought of the other sensitive guy at the FOB, Pascal, one of her medics who flew with her. She liked all the medics, truth be told. The rest of the pilots were thick as bricks, for the most part. All they saw when they looked at her was a body. Sarah was sick of being hit on by those Neanderthal types. She yearned for a deep conversation, flights of fantasy, someone who could join her on the magical carpet ride of her imagination and fly with her.

“Hey, Sarah? Are you in there?”

She started. “Aylin? Come on in. I’m home.” Sarah grinned as the nearly six-foot Apache combat helicopter pilot pushed open the flaps.

“Hey, I’m checking up on you. We just got word over at Jaguar you got attacked yesterday afternoon. Are you all right?”

Sarah gestured for the Turkish pilot to sit down on the cot. “He got the worst of it,” she said, glad to see her friend.

Aylin was in her flight suit and had her helmet bag and kneeboard in hand, which meant she was going to be flying soon. Her black hair was captured in a ponytail. Her golden eyes were slightly tilted, giving her an exotic look.

“Hmph,” Aylin said, sitting down. “You look beat-up. What the hell happened?” Her friend sat down, placing her helmet bag next to her flight boots.

Sarah told her and saw anger leap into Aylin’s eyes. She was a deadly woman in the air as well as on the ground. They were sisters in that they both carried a black belt in karate. But Aylin also knew Krav Maga, the Israeli Defense Forces self-defense system, which was especially deadly.

“Where’s the bastard now?” Aylin gritted out, flexing her fists.

“They took him to Bagram. He’s going to be held there for court-martial. Eventually, I’ll have to fly in and testify.”

“Too bad he isn’t still here.”

Sarah knew Aylin was good for her word. “I’m glad he’s gone.”

“You look tired.”

“Very,” she admitted.

“And you said a SEAL saved you?”

“Yes. God, did he ever move fast.”

Aylin chuckled. “Black ops. Those boys haul ass.”

“Where are you off to?” Sarah asked.

“Going to go with my wingwoman up toward the border,” Aylin said in a bored tone. “The Pakistanis are throwing 105s across into Afghanistan and at some of our Army forward operating bases. We’re supposed to fly in as a show of force.” Her eyes narrowed, predator-like. “Frankly, I’d love to throw some Hellfire missiles into those sites that are sitting just a few meters inside the Pakistan border. It would only have to happen once and those cowards would stop. Of course, that would be an act of war. No one said war made sense, right?”

Laughing softly, Sarah agreed.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Sarah?”

“No. I’ve got four days to rest up.”

Aylin’s arched black brows rose. “Oh, good. You can join us tomorrow then. We’ve got a poker tournament starting up.” She rubbed her hands together and grinned. “Going to be a big pot. Come and join us?”

“I’ll come as your cheerleader. How’s that? I’m not a very lucky person.” She snorted and pointed to her face.

Aylin looked at her watch and stood up. “Okay, drop by if you feel like it and be my good luck charm, then. It starts at 1900 in the ready room. Gotta go, girlfriend.” She picked up her bag and left.

The tent diminished in energy as The Turk, as they referred to Aylin, left. Sarah felt better having had some company. The Jaguar women pilots had embraced her wholeheartedly. Sarah finished the first cinnamon roll and picked up the second one.

It felt rather lovely to just sit and not have to be on the flight roster. She felt a little guilty about it since she knew some of the pilots were going to max out their flight hours every day because she was sidelined. They were missing two pilots who had been killed three weeks ago. A Taliban RPG had rocketed into their Black Hawk just as it had landed to pick up some wounded Special Forces operators. Everyone on board had died, the two pilots, an aircrew chief and a medic. It had been a huge and devastating loss to the squadron.

Sadness moved through Sarah. She’d lost her only male friend at Bravo on that ill-fated flight. Chief Warrant Officer Ted Bateman had been her age, twenty-nine, with three kids and a wife he loved very much. He was sensitive, someone she could confide in. There was never a time he wasn’t respectful of her. Most important, he’d treated her as an equal.

Sarah quickly closed her eyes. Ted had been an incredible pilot—so damned passionate about his job—and she’d seen him fly into a firefight many times to rescue wounded men. Many of the pilots would not. Major Donaldson, who ran the squadron, never wanted to lose a multimillion-dollar Black Hawk. It would risk his yearly budget’s bottom line. He would rant and rave during planning sessions about never risking the helo. The man or woman who was bleeding on the ground could wait until the firefight was over, and then they could fly in to safely pick them up.

Wiping her eyes, Sarah sniffed. She ached to have Ted around right now. If he’d found out she’d been assaulted and nearly raped, he’d be right there at her side. He had been a fierce advocate for her to be in the squadron. When Ted came into the squadron, the rest of the pilots didn’t heckle her or play mean jokes on her as much. She wasn’t a man, so in those pilots’ eyes, she was defective. Ted always wanted to fly with her because, as he’d told her once, she had a set of invisible titanium balls. She’d laughed with him, shaking her head. He had always lifted her spirits and had been a role model of what a medevac pilot should be.

“Oh, Ted,” she whispered. “I miss you so damned much....” Sarah had felt terribly vulnerable since his death. Three weeks ago, she’d penned a long letter to Ted’s wife, Allison. He’d always called her Ali. Sarah had written between her tears, the words blurring as she poured out heartfelt words for Ali. She’d included a CD with the letter of all the photos she’d taken of Ted over the past three months they had flown together. Sarah closed her eyes and hoped that Ali would treasure the photos and that her words would help her bear her grief in some small way.

Making a grumpy sound, Sarah finished off her breakfast. She hated going to the chow hall precisely because she was usually the only female. Ted wasn’t there anymore to escort her and keep the men from hitting on her. And all the Jaguar pilots were done eating and in the air. Sarah tried to eat with the Apache pilots every time she could.

After she pulled on a pair of tennis shoes, she put a towel and her weight lifting gloves into a small bag and got ready to go work out. It was 0700, and most of the guys would be out of the gym by now. Maybe some of the off-duty Apache women pilots would be over there. It would be nice to have some female company. Sarah worked out with them as often as she could.

Of late, she’d been pulling eight hours of flight time every day or night, the max any pilot could fly in a given twenty-four-hour period. There had been no downtime since the loss of the two pilots, and she knew she needed to work out. Sarah pulled on a loose T-shirt that had a black dragon snarling on the front of it. She always wore it in the hopes it would scare off any guy who thought about giving her a line and trying to pick her up. She put on her red cotton gym pants, pulled on her green baseball cap with the medevac squadron symbol on it and left her tent.

The morning was cold for June. She pressed the Velcro shut on her tent flaps and turned, appreciating the white clouds over the camp. Sarah hurried down the dusty street, heading for the gym, which was next to the medical dispensary. Her heart turned back to the poem given to her. It soothed the anxiety she always got when going someplace where there were more men than women.

* * *

Ethan was bench-pressing two hundred and fifty pounds at the end of his ten repetitions when he spotted Sarah Benson walking into the gym. He damn near lost his concentration. He’d never seen her in there before.

“Hey,” Tolleson called. He was standing nearby as his spotter.

“I see her,” Ethan breathed through his teeth, slowly lowering the huge barbell back into its metal cradle. Sweat was rolling off his face, his shoulders were strained and the muscles in his upper arms trembled. Ethan watched Sarah move like a shadow along the wall. There were about fifteen other men in the gym.

“Okay, rest,” Tolleson told him, handing him a towel.

Ethan ducked out from beneath the barbell, sat up and wiped his sweaty face. He rested his elbows on his hard thighs. Like most of the men working out, they were naked except for a pair of gym shorts. There was a lot of grunting and straining going on. The gym smelled of male sweat and testosterone.

His heart beat a little faster as he saw Sarah walk over to the other side of the room, where dumbbells and the lighter weights were kept along the wall. Something a woman would probably want to work out with, he supposed. Damn, she was so graceful. He noticed the purple-and-blue bruises around her wrists. Anger stirred in him.

A number of the other men watched her, too. She probably felt like a piece of meat, all those eyes on her. He wouldn’t like it, either.

“I’m taking five,” Ethan told his LPO, wiping his face again, then throwing the towel over his shoulder.

Sarah felt Ethan’s presence even though she never heard him approach. She’d just sat down on a bench with a ten-pound weight when Ethan appeared before her. He gave her a slight smile of hello and crouched down a few feet in front of her.

“Hey, how are you feeling today?”

Sarah felt heat race up her throat and into her face. The man had hardly any clothes on. Her eyes widened momentarily. “I didn’t see you when I came in,” she said, stiff and on guard. He was incredibly well built with powerful shoulders, dark hair across his chest and a line going down across his hard abs and disappearing beneath the waist of his dark blue gym shorts. Lean. He was built like a swimmer, and then she realized he was a frogman. So, yes, he did indeed have a swimmer’s amazing body. Finding her voice, she said, “I woke up this morning stiff and figured an hour of working out will help me loosen up.”

Ethan nodded, his heart contracting. “You have a helluva bruise on your temple. That’s enough to give me a headache just looking at it.” One corner of his mouth lifted. Her right eye was bruised and slightly swollen from the strike the bastard had given her. The bridge of her nose was also swollen. She had pulled her shining black hair into a ponytail, and he appreciated the clean, classic lines of her face, still beautiful even with her injuries.

“I took some aspirin and I’ve only got a mild headache now.” She started repetitions with the weights, counting how many times for each arm. Panic seized her. He was a man. And he was so masculine that it triggered old memories. She almost asked him about the poem. If he had written it.

“What did the doc have to say? Are you all right?”

Sarah heard the care in his low, husky tone. She swore those gray eyes were looking straight through her. She felt off balance with him, yet she felt his protection, too. It was a crazy feeling, not one she had ever experienced before. Maybe SEALs exuded that kind of protectiveness toward others? She’d never met a SEAL before except to pick up wounded ones on the battlefield. Black ops tended to keep to themselves. It left her confused and wary.

“Just a lot of pretty bruises.” She pointed to her wrist. “And my nose isn’t broken, thank God. The doctor forced me off the flight roster for four days.”

“Mmm,” Ethan said, nodding. Sarah rarely met his eyes. She seemed shy, unlike the tigerlike demeanor he’d seen in action yesterday. He could see only fear in her eyes. Why? Ethan also wondered how she’d become a medevac pilot. They took risks every day out in the field and were considered aggressive pilots. “Did she think you might have a concussion?”

Sarah sat on the anxiety that bubbled just beneath the surface and started counting again as she lifted the weight in her other hand. “Yes.” She tilted her head and met his warm gray eyes. “How did you know? Are you a combat medic?”

Shaking his head, Ethan murmured, “This is my fourth rotation out here and you get used to seeing certain kinds of injuries. My specialty is comms—communication—not medicine.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward Tolleson, who was doing some bench-pressing in his absence. “He’s my LPO. Tolleson is one of the combat medics in our platoon.”

“I see.” Sarah watched him for a moment. “I’m really ignorant about SEALs,” she confided. Ethan was easy to talk to, and she didn’t see lust in his eyes as he observed her. For whatever reason, she found herself tense, unused to a man treating her like this.

“How long you been here at Bravo?”

“Three months. Got six more to go before I get rotated stateside.” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “I’ll probably get four to six months home and then they’re going to send me right back over here.”

“How long you been flying?”

She frowned. “Joined the Army at twenty. I had two years of college under my belt and they wanted me to shoot for warrant officer status. My foster father, Hank, was an Army Black Hawk pilot during the Gulf War. I was lucky and got into their family when I was twelve years old. He’d take me flying in his helicopter duster. By the time I went into the Army, I had about five hundred hours of flight time, so the Army pushed me in that direction. I chose to become a medevac pilot.”

“The Army doesn’t like to waste talent,” Ethan agreed. He had a tough time seeing her in the cockpit of a medevac. Those pilots were ballsy risk takers. Why was she looking at him like he was going to hit her? “You seem pretty laid-back for a medevac pilot.”

Sarah shrugged and switched hands with the dumbbell. “I think the word you’re looking for is shy. I’m a terrified introvert living in a world of in-your-face extroverts.”

He chuckled, liking her dry sense of humor. “Nothing wrong with being an introvert.” He shrugged. “I’m one, too.”

“Could have fooled me.” Sarah wiped the gathering perspiration off her brow with her towel. “You were the first guy to stand up to stop those three Delta dudes from coming over to my table. The look on your face scared the hell out of me.”

Ethan absorbed her praise. He wanted to know what she thought of the poem he’d slipped beneath the flap of her tent that morning. The expression on her face kept him from asking. “No one said an introvert can’t be a mean mother when they need to be,” he said in defense, liking her hesitant smile. That mouth of hers was sending his body a damned heated message.

“That’s true.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Every time we get a new copilot in our squadron, the major sends him to be trained by me. I think he does it just to screw around with the newbie. They take one look at my face and I guess I don’t look like a warrior. Then they get hyper because I don’t fit their idea of a medevac pilot. I’m a woman and—” she sighed “—I have to prove my abilities every day in the right seat. It takes a new copilot a couple of weeks to settle down in the left-hand seat with me at the helm. Like a woman can’t fly a damned helo? Give me a break.”

“I like your feistiness.”

“More than one pilot has seen me under fire coming in for a rescue, and I’m as cool as ice when I need to be.”

Ethan believed it. He held up his hands. “Hey, I’m on the receiving end of you medevac pilots. I couldn’t care less what your gender is. If I’m bleeding out, all I want to know is you’re going to get to me as fast as you can and save my sorry ass.”

Sarah laughed for the first time. “That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?” She wanted to like him. That shocked her. And instantly another kind of cold fear settled in her stomach.

Ethan saw the happiness shining in her eyes for just a moment. Her laughter was husky, and his flesh rifled beneath it. His body had a mind of its own, reacting to her sweet smile and shy demeanor. That’s great, all he needed was an erection in a pair of gym shorts. Not good. He remained where he was, controlling his body. Above all, he didn’t want to scare Sarah off. Providence had given him an opening with her, and he damn well wasn’t going to squander it away like a teenager run by his hormones. “Listen, can I buy you a beer over at the canteen without you going into your black belt routine?”

Her lips curved. “Ah, I see my karate abilities have gotten around the base?” Thanks to the pilots in her squadron, who were gossip queens that put women to shame.

“I think you could have saved yourself yesterday with that bastard because you knew how to fight back,” Ethan said solemnly. He saw her eyes narrow a bit, her soft mouth become pursed.

“I busted his nose and blackened his eye. I was hoping to kick him in the crotch, but he took me down and started dragging me around the corner of the building.” Sarah pushed some strands of hair off her damp brow. Giving him an earnest look, her voice low with emotion, she said, “If you hadn’t come along, Ethan, he’d probably have been able to rape me. He tried to knock me out. No one would have seen him do it behind that building and he would have gotten away with it. I wondered this morning if he had, would he have killed me afterward? You didn’t give him a second shot at me.”

The fear banked in her eyes grew. Sarah’s emotions were right there on the surface, and damned if he didn’t want to straighten up, walk over and haul her into his arms. Ethan found himself wanting to protect her. But this woman was clearly able to fight a two-hundred-and-forty-pound hulk. “You sell yourself short, Sarah. I think, all things being equal, if I hadn’t come along, you’d have found a way to knock the hell out of him and escape.”

The look in the SEAL’s eyes went along with the deadly sound in his hard voice. Sarah shrugged. “We’ll never know.” She set the dumbbell down on the bench. After picking up the towel and wiping her brow, she said, “Actually, I was trying to figure out a way to find you and then ask if I could buy you a beer to thank you. It’s the least I could do for you coming to my aid.” She owed him that, scared or not.

Ethan slowly rose, making sure his towel was strategically in place over his gym shorts. This woman turned him on in a heartbeat. “Name the place and time.”

“Noon? I’ll buy you lunch, too.” Ethan gave her a very male look, and this time, Sarah felt her heart flutter. This SEAL was incredibly confident, easygoing as if he didn’t have a care in the world. And she liked his mouth because it was expressive and he wasn’t acting like he was going to slobber all over her.

He grinned. “Yes, sounds good. I’ll see you over at the canteen.”

Chapter 4

Sarah was nervous as she sat at her favorite table in the noisy canteen. Lunchtime brought everyone out, and those who wanted American food like pizza and hamburgers came here instead of eating over at the chow hall. She’d decided to wear civilian clothes instead of her flight uniform because she wasn’t on duty. After changing into a pair of loose jeans, sneakers and a pink tee with a long-sleeved white blouse to hide her curves, she nervously waited for Ethan. Sarah wanted to get up and leave. He was an unknown. And the unknown scared the living hell out of her.

She glanced at her watch; she was five minutes early. The men at the bar were looking her up and down. Sarah wished she could stop being so sensitive about male stares. Maybe it had to do with her childhood. Who knew? She was drinking beer from a sweaty glass, a pitcher in the center of the table, when she felt Ethan’s presence.

She found him smiling down at her.

“I never heard you coming.”

“You won’t,” Ethan said by way of greeting, pulling a chair out next to her and sitting down.

“Thanks for coming. I’ve already ordered us hamburgers and French fries.” Sarah tried not to be affected by Ethan, but that was impossible. He was wearing a red T-shirt that showed off his incredibly fit body. The jeans he wore made her lower body stir, and that shocked her. She’d now seen two sides of him, the poet and the SEAL. She noticed a number of scars, white and more recent pink ones on his lower and upper arms as well as on his large hands. When he moved to pick up the pitcher of beer, she watched his biceps flex. Every move he made was graceful, and Sarah knew only someone in very good shape could have that boneless kind of grace.

“There’s that risk-taker attitude of yours,” Ethan teased, grinning as he poured himself some cold beer.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t like hamburgers and French fries.” Sarah wanted to ask him if he’d really written that poem. She didn’t have the courage.

Ethan pushed the chair back on two legs. “I’m a red-blooded American male. Relax, it’s fine. I can never get enough hamburgers.” He grinned, seeing relief come to her eyes. Damn but he wanted to know everything about Sarah. He was afraid that if he fired off too many questions it would scare her away. All morning after coming back from the gym, Ethan had tried to figure out the best way to gain Sarah’s trust. Given that a man had just beat the hell out of her, she probably wasn’t too trusting toward any guy. Not even him.

“The workout go okay?” she asked, trying to get herself to relax. Sarah liked looking into his amused gray eyes, the way his chiseled mouth drew up into a hint of a smile. Heat flashed through her, stronger this time than at the gym. There was no question Ethan was sexy. Sensuality oozed out of his pores and it sure had a giddy effect on her. Actually, he could have been a cover model for a fitness magazine with his athletic body and rugged good looks. Why would she suddenly be interested in this man? Sarah quietly tucked her question away.

This guy had saved her from being raped. She should focus on him, not her own scarred past. “You aren’t like a lot of these other guys.”

Ethan shrugged, sipping the beer, holding her blue gaze. “If you haven’t had much experience around SEALs, I’d say that’s why.”

Tilting her head, Sarah said, “Educate me.”

It was easy to talk about his own kind. “We have an ethos, a way of living and conducting ourselves in the world. We’re a band of brothers and a family. We’re professionals, Sarah. We don’t have to swagger around, boast or tell the world about ourselves. We let our work speak for us.”

She felt the coolness of the frosty glass between her fingers as she listened to his low voice. “When I saw you coming up to hit that guy, I thought you were a shadow. I didn’t even hear you coming.”

Ethan’s eyes dropped to her parted mouth. He struggled to keep his body in line, but damn, it was tough. “SEALs take the fight to the enemy, and they’ll never hear us coming until it’s too late.”

The bartender brought over two huge platters of food and set them down in front of them. Sarah thanked him and put her beer to one side. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.” After the assault, she’d had no appetite. Now she did, and she wondered if it was because of Ethan.

“I don’t get over here too often, but when I do, this is my order.”

Sarah placed the pickles, onions, tomatoes and lettuce on the huge half-pound hamburger. “I don’t get over here too often, either. Heavy flight demands.”

Picking up his burger in both hands, Ethan grunted. “I must have gotten lucky seeing you the other day then.”

They ate in companionable silence. Ethan was always aware of the space around him. More than a few dudes looked longingly toward Blue Eyes and then scowled, jealousy written on their faces because she was allowing him to sit with her. He had to keep himself in tight check; he had a hundred questions for her.

“I imagine being back home on such a short rotation plays hell on your family demands?” he asked. Another way to find out if she was married, engaged or single.

Shrugging, Sarah said, “My foster parents love to have me at home. They live in Dallas, Texas, and I’m always sent to an Army base elsewhere. I do take my thirty days of leave to be with them.”

“No other family?” he wondered.

Sarah hesitated. Should she get personal with Ethan? There was something about him that inspired her confidence. Stiffly, she said, “No. I was given up at birth. I’m sure I have family, but I don’t know who they are. My foster parents, Hank and Mary Benson, adopted me when I was twelve years old. They’re my life. They took me in and I’ll always be grateful.”

Ethan heard the tension and emotions behind her husky voice and saw pain as well as fondness in her eyes as she spoke. “That had to be tough. I mean, being given up at birth.” Ethan couldn’t wrap his head around that one. There was momentary anguish in her eyes, and then she quickly hid it from him.

“I’m okay with it. Hank and Mary made up for it. They gave me love and stability and supported me.”

“What happened the first twelve years of your life?”

Her mouth crooked, as if to avoid answering his question. “It wasn’t pretty,” was all she said, her voice clipped and growing hard. “I am who I am today because of Mary and Hank. That’s all that counts.”

Ethan tried to translate what he saw in her dark glance, but he couldn’t. There were a lot of layers to Sarah, a complexity, and he wanted to figure it out. His nature was to delve, understand and see the larger picture. It certainly served him well as a SEAL in black ops.

She finished her hamburger and picked at her fries. “Are you an officer?”

Ethan knew where this conversation was going. Warrant officers in the Army lived in a netherworld between officers and enlisted people. The Army considered them officers, higher in rank than any enlisted person. And he was enlisted. What was Sarah thinking? Was she interested in him personally? Checking out his rank or rate status to ensure the fraternization order wasn’t broken? Officers and warrants were not allowed by UCMJ law to fraternize with enlisted people. There was to be no affair, no personal relationship between the two parties.

He squirmed. “I’m a petty officer first class.”

“I see,” she murmured. In a way, Sarah was relieved he was enlisted. It would make it easier to stop the burning connection between them. Sarah wasn’t going to risk her career on an affair with an enlisted man. And yet, as she studied Ethan’s somber expression, that was exactly what she wanted to do. He had a kindness to him, a curiosity and intelligence. They all appealed strongly to her, but she couldn’t get beyond that wall of distrust she had toward all men.

Ethan continued eating his French fries, no longer tasting them. He could see Sarah had already made her decision about him. She was single; that much he knew. Was she available, though? In his SEAL world, which blurred the lines between enlisted men and their officers, he didn’t see this as a deal killer even if Sarah did.

Over the years, Ethan had seen plenty of officer-and-enlisted romances. If the two people involved were discreet, no one said anything. Only those stupid enough to flaunt their affair brazenly out in front of their commanding officers got the order to stop it or else. He’d seen, in some instances, the woman renouncing her military career in order to marry the officer she’d fallen in love with. And sometimes not. He understood what Sarah was thinking about. Weighing and measuring him because she was attracted to him or she wouldn’t have asked the question at all. He could sense her considering the costs to her career and to herself if she allowed their attraction to grow.

“Do you have a wife and kids?” Sarah asked him.

Ethan felt himself smile. “No, I’m not married.” He pushed the empty plate away and picked up his beer.

“Do SEALs replace the need for a woman in their life with their team family instead?”

He chuckled. “No way. About half the guys in our platoon are married and have kids. The rest of us are alpha male wolves without a partner yet.”

She smiled at his description, pushing a few of the last French fries around with her index finger. “Maybe your job, the black ops part of it, stops you from having a serious relationship?” she wondered.

Ethan could feel her trying to grasp the world he lived in. Was this a personal question? Or just a more generalized question about the SEAL community because Sarah knew little about them? He wished it was personal, but he didn’t think it was. “I don’t think most women can take the nature of our business,” he told her seriously. “There’s a ninety percent divorce rate among SEALs. Most marriages last only ten years. It’s like a disease.”

Her brows flew up. “Ninety? My God, that’s high!”

“Can’t disagree with you.” Ethan opened his hands. “Put yourself in a wife’s place, one who is married to a SEAL operator. She will never know where he’s sent, the danger he’s in, whether he’s coming back or not. She has to take care of everything stateside, the house, the kids, and he’s not there to support or help her do it. It’s a pretty daunting task when a husband is sent overseas for six months and you, as the wife, only get emails and maybe a Skype call monthly, if that.”

Nodding, Sarah whispered, “That would be really rough.” And then she looked at him. “Is that why you never married?” Because Ethan struck her as a man any woman would stumble all over herself to be with. He wasn’t like those ego-busting Delta operators. He was settled, mature, intelligent, and all those things appealed strongly to her whether she wanted them to or not.

“Just haven’t run into the right woman yet, I guess,” Ethan said, giving her a good-humored look. “Have you run into the right man?”

Sarah frowned. Her voice grew terse. “No.” Sarah rubbed her brow, and he could see her weighing whether or not she wanted to reveal any more of herself to him. Desperate, Ethan waited, wanting to know.

She shook her head and gave Ethan a confused look. “I’ll bet a lot of people confide in you....”

“I’m trustworthy,” he assured her. And he was. Ethan didn’t spread gossip around, and he held every relationship as sacred. Sarah was staring at him, unsure. His mouth pursed as he waited. This was a key to Sarah.

“I don’t have a very good track record, so let’s leave it at that.”

Ethan felt sadness blanketing her. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business,” he rasped. And he was sorry because he saw moisture come to her eyes and it tore at his heavily guarded heart. A woman’s or child’s tears ripped him wide-open and he had absolutely no defense against them. Ethan wanted to touch her but stopped himself.

God help him, he wanted to gather Sarah into his arms and hold her. She needed that right now, judging by the stark look in her eyes. He could feel how alone she was in this male world. In one aspect, Sarah looked fragile and too vulnerable to be a Black Hawk pilot. In other ways, Ethan sensed her steel backbone. She was complex. And that is what drove him to know her on a personal level. What moved her? What passion directed her life? Why was she in the military? There was so much more to Blue Eyes.

Sarah seemed to force a brittle smile. “It’s life. Everyone gets kicked around by it sooner or later.” She finished off her beer and pulled out some bills from the pocket of her jeans. “Thanks for letting me buy you lunch,” she told him. “I’ve got some stuff I gotta do over at my squadron whether I’m on the flight roster or not.”

It was a lie, but Sarah knew if she stayed there one more minute with this SEAL, she was going to give him her trust. And that just couldn’t happen. She owed Ethan for protecting her, but she didn’t owe him personal access into her wounded heart. That, Sarah guarded, because she couldn’t stand to have her life ever shattered again.

Rising, Ethan nodded. “Thank you.”

Sarah lifted her hand. “Stay safe out there, okay?”

Ethan knew a brush-off when he got one. He nodded and held her blue gaze, feeling the warmth and gentleness that was an intrinsic part of her despite the walls she erected. He also saw she was frightened. Of him? Why? Need for Sarah wrapped around his heart, and Ethan wanted to groan over his loss. “You, too,” Ethan told her, meaning it. “There’s only one of you, Sarah, and we need you here on this planet. Okay?”

Struck by his parting words, she blinked, assimilating his statement. There was a hidden depth to Ethan, and she saw it in his genuine care for her. That protective energy of his embraced her even more powerfully than before. “Yes...of course.”

* * *

Well that went swimmingly, didn’t it? Ethan was angry with himself as he walked toward SEAL HQ. He had to be at a mission-planning session at 1400. He’d blown it with Sarah. She was wounded, grieving, and he’d just romped into her life like a sledgehammer shattering crystal. Damn. Running his fingers distractedly through his hair, he wondered how to repair the damage he’d done through his ignorance and impatience.

He heard a Black Hawk spooling up at Ops. The sun, hot and burning, fried and dried out everything in its path. Ethan hated it, preferring the cool, damp and humid Alaskan wilderness. That or jumping into the ocean, where he truly felt at home.

What was he going to do to win back Sarah’s attention? Should he continue his other black ops strategy with her? Continue to place an envelope with a stanza of a poem he’d written about her every morning before she woke up? Ethan felt driven to do it by some invisible, unnamed source. His drive to know Sarah to her soul was intense, almost dire. And he’d never felt this before with a woman.

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