He was a haven in the midst of Hell…

Temporarily assigned to the Shadow Squadron in a troubled region of Afghanistan, Chief Warrant Officer and pilot Leah Mackenzie is no stranger to conflict—even if most of her physical and emotional scars are courtesy of her vicious ex. Still, she’s got a bad feeling about picking up a team of stranded SEALs. A feeling that’s all too justified once enemy fire hits their helicopter and all hell breaks loose…

SEAL Kell Ballard’s goal was to get the injured pilot out of harm’s way and find shelter deep in the labyrinth of caves. It’s a place of dark intimacy, where Leah finds unexpected safety in a man’s arms. Where prohibited attraction burns brightly. And where they’ll hide until the time comes to face the enemy outside…and the enemy within their ranks.

Praise for Lindsay McKenna

“The unflinching descriptions of flashbacks, panic attacks, and nightmares are riveting, making this essential reading for those who want to understand what PTSD can be like…McKenna does a beautiful job of illustrating difficult topics through the development of well-formed, sympathetic characters.”

—Publishers Weekly on Wolf Haven (starred review)

“Set within a well-crafted plot, this story—equal parts intriguing, gritty and romantic—will pull at readers’ heartstrings.”

—RT Book Reviews on Wolf Haven

“Ms. McKenna masterfully blends the two different paces to convey a beautiful saga about love, trust, patience and having faith in each other.”

—Fresh Fiction on Never Surrender

“A treasure of a book…highly recommended reading that everyone will enjoy and learn from.”

—Chief Michael Jaco, US Navy SEAL, retired, on Breaking Point

“Her Shadow Warrior heroines are focused and tough, yet secretly vulnerable. Her SEAL heroes are consummate gentlemen, but have an enormous capacity for soul deep passion. The only surrender is the sweet kind, and oh how sweet it is!”

—ReadertoReader on Taking Fires

“McKenna’s military experience shines through in this moving tale…McKenna (High Country Rebel) skillfully takes readers on an emotional journey into modern warfare and two people’s hearts.”

—Publishers Weekly on Down Range

Running Fire

Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Gary Amato, US Air Force firefighter,1973–1977. Joined West Point Volunteer Fire Department before he went into the Air Force. Then, returned and got his fire science degree from Stark Technical College, Canton, Ohio. He then became a Lieutenant. I met him then, when I joined the WPVFD. Gary took me under his wing and made me a good firefighter, the only woman on the WPVFD. He was a great officer, great strategist and tactician at any type of fire. I ran on 400 of 600 fire calls that we had in our township over three years. Gary is a true hero, a military vet who has given from his heart to the surrounding area where he lives. He later became Assistant Fire Chief until 1989, when he retired. Thank you for your service to all of us, Gary. You rock in my Book of Life.

Dear Reader,

Army Chief Warrant Officer Leah Mackenzie leads a double life. Women who have gone through spousal abuse usually do. At work, they seem normal and can handle their job without a problem. But going home? They revert into an abuse victim. Leah didn’t start out to become one, but several tragic events concerning her family when she was just a child stamped and molded her differently. And because her famous Army helicopter-pilot father ran a black ops squadron, he was married to it and not his family. When tragedy strikes, Leah is left alone with her grief and pain, and her father isn’t there for her. She grows up in his powerful and authoritarian shadow.

The only way Leah can get her father to love her is to join the black ops squadron and excel at what she does so well: skillful flying in combat. That way she gets some of his attention. She has poor social skills as a teenage girl growing up with no mother and an absentee father. In the Mackenzie family, she was a quiet shadow to her older brother, whom her father doted upon. He had great dreams for his son and none for his shy, unsure daughter who only wanted his love. And she never received it. When Leah tries to save her brother in a wintertime accident but fails, she blames herself. And from this loss, her entire family is torn apart forever.

Such family dynamics, of coming out of an abusive/dysfunctional family, can set up a woman to be attractive to a man who becomes her spousal abuser. So many women caught with a brutal physical, mental and/or emotional abuser get beaten down and they give up. But Leah somehow found the courage to not give up. As she grew, matured and became an adult, she divorced her abuser. But the real problems began then, because her ex-husband was the commander of the squadron she flew for in Afghanistan.

On a stormy and dangerous night, Leah and her copilot fly her MH-47 helicopter into the maw of Taliban territory to pick up two SEALs who have completed a mission. Only, things go terribly wrong. And the resulting crash, which could have ended her life, was saved by a third SEAL, a sniper named Kell Ballard, who was on an entirely different mission in the same area. That rescue changes Leah’s life. Kell wasn’t expecting to meet a woman in this war-torn country. And he sure as hell didn’t expect to fall in love with the raw courage she has to not only survive her past but change the course of her life with his support. That one decision sets another series of events tumbling down upon Leah, and she’s not sure she can survive them.

I hope you enjoy the many layers, twists and turns of this story! Please run over to my website and sign up for my quarterly newsletter (free). It contains exclusive information and surprises that only my subscribers will receive! I love to hear from my readers, so make yourself known to me at lindsaymckenna.com.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

Dear Reader

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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“READY, LEAH?” CAPTAIN Brian Larsen asked.

Chief Warrant Officer Leah Mackenzie picked up the mission information from the US Army 80th Shadow Squadron office. She looked outside, getting a bad feeling. It was raining at Camp Bravo, an FOB, or forward operating base, thirty miles from the Pakistani border. “This is a lousy night,” she told the MH-47 pilot. She saw Brian nod.

“It sucks,” he agreed. “But we gotta make this exfil.”

Leah followed him across Operations, helmet bag in one hand, kneeboard in the other. It was 2400, midnight, and they were to pick up a SEAL team one mile from the Af-Pak border. They had thirty minutes to meet the black ops team who had been out for a week hunting high-value-target Taliban leaders.

Her heart picked up its pace as they walked quickly from Operations onto the wet tarmac. Their MH-47, a specially equipped Chinook helicopter that could fly in any kind of weather conditions, had been prepped by the ground crew and ready for them to board.

The cold rain was slashing down and quickly soaked Leah’s one-piece desert-tan flight suit. It was June 1, and Brian had told her rain was unusual at this time of year in eastern Afghanistan.

Bravo sat at eight thousand feet in the Hindu Kush mountains. Leah had arrived three weeks ago, acclimating and learning the Shadow Squadron area that they operated within. She had replaced a pilot who had gotten appendicitis. Being the only woman in the 80th, she stood out whether she wanted to or not. It was time to take to the sky. Soon, they were in the air, heading toward their objective.

“This is a shitty area to pick anyone up in,” Brian muttered. “You remember? It’s that very narrow valley? With the mountains on the east side at fourteen thousand? And on the west side, at ten thousand?”

“Yes,” Leah answered. She’d worked hard to commit the terrain to memory. Black ops never picked up a team at the same spot twice—ever. It could be a trap or ambush the second time around. “What I don’t like is that we’re landing too close to a series of caves. The Taliban routinely hide in them.”

“Roger that one,” Brian agreed grimly, studying the all-terrain radar on his HUD, or heads-up display. “The SEALs said they couldn’t locate any tangos nearby, but that means squat. The Taliban hide in the caves and pop up with RPGs after we land. It’s a game of Whack-A-Mole.”

Leah nodded. Her adrenaline was already flooding into her bloodstream. Should she tell Brian she had a bad feeling? That when she did, things usually went to hell in a handbag? “Is there any way this team can meet us out in that narrow valley?”

“No. Then they become targets for any Taliban sitting up high in those caves.”

Mouth quirking, Leah felt her stomach tighten. She flew the Chinook in the long, flat stratus clouds, the rain slashing downward at four thousand feet. In ten minutes, they’d hit the last waypoint and start descending into the exfil area to pick up the awaiting SEAL team.

She heard Brian talking with Ted and Liam over the intercom. The two crew chiefs on board would have to lower the ramp once they began to descend into the pickup zone. Brian had made his authorization request with Bagram Airfield where the major part of the 80th Shadow Squadron was stationed. No mission went down unless authorization had been given by everyone in TOC, Tactical Operation Center. And it had just been approved. It was a go.

Leah listened to all transmissions while her gaze roved across the cockpit instrument panel. Everything felt good and solid to her. Since age sixteen, she’d flown by the seat of her pants, which was when her father, full-bird Colonel David Mackenzie, had taught her how to fly. The reason she’d gotten into the Shadow Squadron was because he was the commander of this particular battalion. She was the only woman in it and Leah hoped other deserving women pilots would be allowed to follow in her footsteps sooner rather than later.

“I’ll take the controls,” Brian said.

“You have the controls,” Leah said, releasing them. Brian was worried about this pickup area and she was happy to allow the more experienced pilot to fly them in and out. She busied herself with talking to the SEAL team on the ground and preparing the helo for the pickup with her crew chiefs.

At one thousand feet, she gave Ted the order to open the ramp. Instantly, a grinding sound began throughout the hollow fuselage. The closer they descended to the ground, the harder it rained.

The hairs on the back of Leah’s neck stood up. A sense of real danger washed through her. Compressing her full lips, she watched as the Chinook came out of the low-hanging cloud cover at three hundred feet. Looking to the east, she saw the caves, all black maws. Their exfil was down below them, on a gentle slope that would be easy to land upon. Her heart rate picked up and she felt a strong thrust of adrenaline burning through her.

* * *

NAVY SEAL CHIEF Kell Ballard lay in his hide, fourteen hundred yards west of where he saw the Shadow helicopter dropping below the low cloud cover. He was hidden and dry, his .300 Win-Mag sniper rifle covered with fabric to camouflage it from enemy eyes. He’d been watching through his Night Force scope for any thermal activity other than his two SEAL brothers on the opposite side of the narrow valley who were about to be picked up. The problem was that the rain was so heavy that Kell knew Taliban could be in those caves and even he wouldn’t be able to spot them.

The whumping sounds of the twin-engine MH-47 Chinook vibrated the air throughout the narrow-necked valley. He panned his rifle slowly, looking through his infrared scope at the helicopter descending.

Then, he moved his scope farther down and to his left. He saw two thermal images of the SEALs, hiding behind brush, waiting for exfil. They’d been in contact with one another all week, although Kell’s single-sniper mission was different from theirs. He’d already been out here three weeks, waiting for an HVT to slip into Afghanistan. He was sitting on the mountain to intercept the bastard when it happened. So far, he’d just waited and watched.

He’d been in touch with one of the pilots on board the Chinook, a Captain Larsen. Having the daily code word and radio contact channel for any Shadow helo, Kell had warned him earlier that Taliban could be hidden in those caves. He had no way to find them unless one of them rose up and fired an RPG at the helo. He turned his scope toward those caves once more, trying to protect the helo, just in case.

Kell watched the Chinook swing over the valley, staying as far away from those caves as possible. But the valley was exceedingly tapered in shape and the huge rotor circumference on this transport helo forced it to make a long, wide turn.

The Chinook was at one hundred feet, descending rapidly. Shadow pilots got in and out as swiftly as possible, knowing they were always vulnerable when landing and taking off.

Kell inhaled deeply, the night air moist and the rain punctured by the heavy echo of thumping blades. His heart rate slowed and he focused on the caves, watching the helo cautiously approach the exfil point.

His intense focus was primarily on the caves. He panned his rifle scope slowly, right to left and then back again. No heat signatures so far. His finger was on the two-pound trigger. He had a bullet in the chamber and two more in the magazine. The wind gusted and whipped around his hide. The rain thickened, making his visual blurry. Kell’s heart suddenly plunged. He saw three heat signatures suddenly pop up from a cave.

Son of a bitch!

All three Taliban had RPGs on their shoulders, ready to fire! There was no time for a radio warning as the first enemy fired his RPG at the helo. Kell pulled the trigger, taking out the second Taliban. Moving swiftly, he scoped the third one, firing.

Too late!

* * *

LEAH SAW A FLASH off to the right, out of the corner of her eye, as Brian brought the Chinook down onto the slope.

“RPG!” she yelled. And then, the entire center of the helicopter exploded, shrapnel, fire and pressure-wave concussions slamming Leah forward. She felt the deep bite of the harness into her shoulders. Brian screamed as the fire roared forward. Leah ducked to the left, toward the fuselage at her elbow, feeling the burning heat and the precious oxygen stolen from their lungs.

A second RPG struck the rear of the helicopter. The thunderous explosion ripped off the rear rotor assembly, the blades flying razors shrieking out into the night.

Leah’s head got yanked to the right by the second RPG hit. The entire cockpit plexiglass blew outward. Thousands of shards shattered and rained around her, glittering sparkles catching the fire within the bird. She heard Brian screaming, fire enveloping the entire cockpit. She smelled her hair burning.

The fire was so intense, Leah couldn’t reach out and get to Brian’s harness. With shaking hands, she found the release on her own. The whole helo was tearing in two. Metal screeched. She heard the rotor, just behind and above her head, rip off. A loose blade sailed through the cockpit. Because she was out of her harness, she avoided most of the slicing blade’s action. It cut the other pilot’s seat in half. Sobbing, Leah knew it had killed Brian instantly.

Escape! Egress!

Choking on the smoke, Leah felt her fire-retardant uniform was going to burst into flames any second now. Fire roared through the inside of the broken bird. Gasping, she crawled to the blown-out window to her left. Shoving her boots up onto the seat, she launched herself out the window. Leah felt immediate pain in her right arm, slashed by a jagged piece of plexiglass left in the aluminum window frame.

She fell ten feet, hitting the rocks and mud below, tumbling end over end. Dazed, blood running down the right side of her head, she tried to get up. Her hands and legs wouldn’t work. The black clouds of smoke enveloped her. The rain slashed at Leah’s eyes—part of her helmet visor was broken, exposing her face to the violent weather. Coughing, gagging, she felt smoke smother her. She got on all fours and moved away as fast as she could. Air! She had to get air or she’d die of smoke inhalation!

The rocks bit into her hands and bruised her knees. Disoriented, Leah heard gunfire from her right and left. Collapsing to the ground, she crawled on her belly, so damned dizzy she wasn’t sure where she was at or where she was headed. There was another explosion behind her. The Chinook ripped in half, the aviation fuel exploded. The pressure wave struck her, smashing her helmet into the rocks. It was the last thing Leah remembered.

* * *

KELL CURSED RICHLY, leaping out of his hide and leaving his sniper rifle behind. He pulled the SIG pistol from his drop holster, crouching, then sprinted down the slope. He had fourteen hundred yards to run before he would reach that pilot he’d seen fall out of the Chinook’s starboard-side window near the cockpit.

Slipping and sliding, the rain so heavy he could barely see even with his NVGs on, Ballard watched for more trouble. The two SEALs waiting for extract had immediately broken contact and were already on the run toward the cave where the RPGs had been shot from. They’d have to contact the platoon at Bravo for another pickup at a later date.

Kell breathed hard. The slippery soil slowed him down. He had dispatched all three Taliban. But were there more of them around that he hadn’t seen through his scope? He flipped up his NVGs because the roaring flames around the destroyed helo blinded his night-vision capability.

The last he’d seen through his scope, the pilot was about a hundred feet west of the wreckage. He’d disappeared beneath the roiling, thick smoke. Where the hell could he be?

Circling the helo, staying well away from it, Kell entered the heavy smoke. Immediately, he started choking and gagging. Crouching low, moving swiftly, Kell began a hunt for the pilot. He had no idea if the man was dead or not. He was amazed even one of them had managed to get out of that flaming helo alive.

Kell almost stumbled over the body. He fell to his knees. The pilot was on his belly, arms stretched out in front of him, thrown forward by the second, bigger blast. Gasping, unable to see except by feel as more smoke poured into the area, Kell grabbed the man and threw him into a fireman’s carry across his shoulders. Only, to his shock, he felt breasts resting against his shoulders.

What the hell? A woman? Not in the Shadow Squadron! That was a men-only combat slot.

It didn’t matter. Kell heaved to his feet, holding on to the woman pilot, crouched, angling to get the hell out from beneath the toxic fumes and smoke. She weighed a lot less than a man, he realized, as he trotted out from beneath the cloud.

Halting, he pulled his NVGs down so he could see into the night. Keeping his hearing keyed, Ballard slowed his pace once he was across the narrow, flat area. Ahead of him was the slope.

As he began the climb, the rain lessened. The wind gusted fiercely, gut punching him, throwing him off balance. Cursing softly, panting from the exertion up the steep, rocky slope, he moved toward his hide. And then, Kell heard a snap and pop nearby. Damn! The Taliban had spotted him! Now his hide was useless!

Kell leaned into the hide, grabbing his rifle and his ruck. More bullets snapped by his head. Others struck the rocks around him, sending off sparks and ricocheting. Grunting, he was now weighed down with not only the unconscious pilot, but an eighty-pound ruck and a twenty-five-pound sniper rifle.

And the Taliban had him in their sights.

Angling up through the wadi, or ravine, Kell knew the Taliban were shooting wildly because they didn’t have thermal-imaging capability. They couldn’t see what was out there in the night and rain. But even they got lucky sometimes. As he hoofed up the slope, weaving between straggling trees and thick bushes, he headed higher.

His lungs were burning. His legs felt tortured and were starting to cramp. The bullets were going wide of them now. Moving deeper down into the wadi, Kell knew no Taliban were there because this had been his home for three weeks. He knew every bush, tree and rock.

The rain eased, the wind gusting less as he popped out of the top of the wadi, a thousand feet higher. He was rasping for breath, his calves knotting painfully with fist-size cramps in each. Clenching his teeth, he pushed through the pain, knowing he had to get to a certain chain of caves and tunnels or they’d both eventually be found and killed. Slipping, sometimes falling to his knees, Ballard scrambled like a damned mountain goat and kept fighting the slope with his three heavy loads.

Finally, he reached a small cave about ten feet high and six feet wide. Carefully slipping inside, Kell dropped his ruck on the dirt floor, set the sniper rifle against the wall and then knelt down, easing the unconscious pilot off his shoulders. The wall of the cave hid them. Breathing hard, sucking oxygen that wasn’t easily available at nine thousand feet, Kell steadied himself. He pushed two fingers against the pilot’s neck. She was a woman. That still stunned the hell out of him. He saw dark blood down the entire left side of her face. Her lips were slack.

There! He felt a pulse. That was good news. Unable to do much here, he pushed his wet fingers beneath the fabric of her soaked flight collar. He fumbled and finally located her dog tags. Angling his head, he read, “Mackenzie, L., CWO, US Army.” Dropping them against her chest, he keyed his radio mic close to his mouth.

“Redbud Main, this is Redbud Actual. Over.” Ballard gulped for breath, waiting. Sometimes, being in a cave stopped transmission.

“Redbud Main. Over.”

That would be Ax, Master Chief Tom Axton, who ran their Delta platoon. Quickly, Kell explained what had happened. The Taliban were on their trail, following them. It would be impossible for a helo pickup. He was going into the cave system and would try to lose them. Kell told the master chief about the woman pilot, L. Mackenzie.

“Roger Redbud Actual. Egress. We’ve already been in touch with Raven Actual. There are two Apaches underway to the crash site as I speak. Take evasive action. Out.”

Kell signed off and raised his head, listening intently. He’d murmured in a quiet tone. A whisper would have carried even farther. Looking out, he spotted five Taliban climbing toward the cave. Damn! Turning, he saw the woman pilot had remained unconscious. She was still wearing her helmet. He almost pulled it off, but thought better of it because if the Taliban searched the cave and found it, they’d know she was nearby.

Not good.

Kell strapped the sniper rifle onto the outside of the ruck. Pulling the pilot over his shoulders again, he picked up the strap of the heavy ruck in his left hand. He kept his right hand on the woman’s slack wrist over his chest so she wouldn’t slip off. After getting a few minutes of rest, he swiftly moved to the rear of the cave. In a minute more, his NVGs would be useless. He knew this tunnel and jogged down it, blind in the pitch darkness, but knowing exactly where he was going.

Kell continued the swift pace, his calves knotting up in excruciating protest. He needed water, dehydrated from the long burst of speed to get this pilot to safety. But water could wait. He sped past two more caves, locating a fork and then moving up a steep tunnel.

His breath came out in explosions, sweat running off him as he pushed hard, forcing his tired, burning legs to perform. As a black ops SEAL, he knew he could ignore pain and keep on going. There wasn’t a choice, anyway. Luckily the Taliban wouldn’t know which way he’d chosen to go in this system. The dolomite-rock tunnels didn’t reveal boot tracks, thank God.

His heart was pounding like it was going to tear out of his chest as he climbed toward the ten-thousand-foot level. He was going into a cave that had probably never been used by anyone. Yet.

The reason Ballard knew about it was that he’d accidentally discovered it three weeks ago. There were no animal or human prints in the soft, fine dirt of the cave floor where he was headed. It was hidden well enough that he felt it was the right place to hide for now. Even better, there was another exit tunnel out of it, so if his hiding spot was compromised he could egress to freedom with the injured pilot.

Kell was soon operating in pitch darkness. At a juncture, he halted, leaned forward so the pilot wouldn’t fall and grabbed a small penlight out of his cammie pocket. Shifting it to his left hand that was now numb, the light would enable him to traverse the caves. He pulled his NVG goggles down around his neck. They were of no use now. Breathing out of his mouth to quiet his jagged rasps, he turned, his hand on the pilot’s shoulder to steady her position on him, listening. There were no Taliban voices in either Arabic or Pashto floating up toward him in the complex tunnel system. Kell knew his enemy well enough to assume that they’d probably given up, more interested in hiding because they figured Apache combat helicopters were coming to find them. They couldn’t be discovered in a nearby cave where they might be seen, so they’d hunker down in a wadi and wait it out. That was fine by him.

He reached the small cave chamber. Luckily, it contained a small pool. As Kell entered it, he heard the rush of water. Figuring the rain from far above was leaking down through the fissured limestone, he pushed toward the rear of the cave. There was an alcove, a thin wing of dolomite rock that acted like a wall, hiding the mouth of the cave from where he was standing. It would also hide the pilot and his gear from Taliban eyes. That was a small advantage.

Breathing hard, Kell dropped the ruck, making sure the sniper rifle sat on top of it. He couldn’t afford to have the Win-Mag damaged. Grunting, he slowly crouched, his sore knees settling onto the fine but gritty surface. Easing the pilot off his shoulders, he kept his hand beneath her neck and head as he got her straightened out, laying her down.

Placing the light at an angle against the rock wall, he shifted into combat-medic mode. Opening the ruck, he grabbed his sleeping bag, rolling it out. He picked her up and placed her on it. Next, he located a pair of gloves in his ruck and he pulled them on. Kell unstrapped her helmet and gently lifted it off her head. Putting it aside, he got a look at her for the first time. Her ginger-colored hair was in a ponytail and he saw thick, welling blood on the left side of her skull. Studying the helmet, Kell realized it had been cut open by something. Maybe a flying blade? Whatever it had been, it had created a one-inch gash in her scalp, the blood still leaking out of it and down the left side of her temple, cheek and neck.

He placed his fingers on the inside of her wrist after pulling off her Nomex flight gloves. She was medium boned, her skin ivory colored. Her pulse was strong and steady, a hopeful sign. Kell began to breathe a little easier.

He put a small blanket he kept rolled up in his ruck beneath her head and tilted her neck back slightly to open her airway. Quickly and expertly, he examined her for other injuries, burns, bullet wounds or broken bones. She was unconscious and he was fairly sure it was due to her head wound.

Still, Kell missed nothing. Rolling her toward him, the front of her body resting against his knees, he checked her back and legs for exit wounds and injuries. There were none. Turning her back over, he concentrated on her left lower arm. Her flight-suit sleeve had been ripped open from her wrist to her elbow. There was a three-inch gash that she’d probably gotten egressing out of the cockpit window, Kell guessed. It was deep and oozing blood, but it was not life threatening. It would need a lot of stitches, though.

He placed another blanket beneath her knees, bringing the blood back to the center of her body to halt the devastating shock. He then went to work on her head wound. In a cave, Kell wouldn’t be able to use his radio or his satellite phone to reach help. They were cut off from everyone due to the thick rock. For now, Kell was all right with that, so long as the pilot hadn’t sustained a life-threatening concussion. If she had, then it became a very dicey situation because the Taliban were actively hunting them.

Pulling a bottle of water out of his ruck, he drank deeply, replenishing badly needed fluids lost in the run for safety. Taking a washcloth he always carried in a plastic storage bag, he poured sterilized water from another bottle onto it and began to carefully wash the blood away from her head wound. He had to see how deep it was and if her skull had been fractured.

To his relief, it was merely a flesh wound, but these types often bled like a stuck hog. It took him several minutes to clean it up. Getting out a surgical needle and thread, he carefully stitched the wound closed. Most important was sterilizing the area before and after. Brushing antibiotic cream over the sewn area, Kell placed a battle dressing across it. In minutes he had the wound protected, the white gauze around her head. He noticed it damned near matched the color of her flesh right now.

Hauling the ruck closer, he pulled out a syringe and a bottle of antibiotics, giving her a maximum dose in her upper arm, wanting to stave off any bacterial infection. That was the last thing she needed.

All the while he worked over her, his hearing was keyed to outside the cave. The tunnel systems within the mountain were both a labyrinth and an echo chamber. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was 0200. He was exhausted, but pushed through it.

Trying to ignore how attractive Chief Mackenzie was, Kell went to work on the gash on her arm. It was then that she groaned.

He stopped, watching her shadowed face. Her softly arched brows moved down. Her mouth—and God, what a mouth she had—closed, and then she licked her lower lip. Any moment now, Kell knew she’d start to become conscious. Her right arm lifted toward her head. He caught her hand.

“Chief Mackenzie? You’re safe. You need to lie still. Do you hear me?” Kell leaned down, a little closer, watching her thick lashes quiver. Another groan tore out of her and her nostrils flared. Kell knew she was in pain. Probably from the wound on her arm.

And then his breath jammed in his throat as her lashes drifted upward. She had incredibly green eyes, although Kell couldn’t tell much more than that with the deep shadows in the cavern. Her gaze wandered. They were glazed over with shock. Finally, they wandered in his direction and stopped. Kell could see her trying to think, to remember what had happened.

Her pupils were dilated and he checked them closely. Both were of equal size and responded. Relief moved through him. If one pupil was fixed, larger or smaller than the other, it meant she’d sustained serious head trauma.

She had beautiful eyes, the kind a man could get lost in. They reminded him of the summer-green color of the trees in Sandy Hook, Kentucky, where he had been born. Pushing his personal reaction to her aside, he said quietly, “Can you hear me, ma’am? I’m Navy Chief Kelly Ballard. You’re safe here with me.”

Leah heard the man’s soft, Southern drawl, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. Her head throbbed with pain and her vision was blurred. She felt white-hot heat throbbing through her left arm. The pain was overwhelming and she struggled, feeling as if trapped in a netherworld. Her vision cleared for a second. She was staring up at a man with a deeply tanned, craggy face, whose intense, narrowed gray eyes studied her. Oddly, she wasn’t frightened of him. He was dressed in SEAL cammies. Her vision blurred again. Leah shut her eyes, struggling to remain conscious. Where was she? Where was Brian? What had happened?

CHAPTER TWO

LEAH FELT THE man’s calloused hand on her left arm that hurt so damn much. She felt nauseous, dizzy, and couldn’t think coherently.

“Ma’am,” he drawled, “just be still. You took a bad bump to your head. Things will clear if you don’t struggle so much.”

This time, she heard what he was saying. It was low in timbre. Caring. His tone calmed her frantic, chaotic mind. Her whole body hurt. Leah felt as if she’d been in a major car wreck.

Opening her eyes, she blinked, staring up into the deeply shadowed face of the man kneeling beside her. She noticed the lines around the corners of his eyes. Laugh lines, maybe? Her mind was wandering, shorting out. He had an oval face, strong chin and large, intelligent-looking eyes. The word rugged had been created for him. He wasn’t pretty-boy handsome at all. Rather, it looked as though his face had been hewn and sculpted out of mountain rock. His nose reminded her of a hawk’s.

It was his eyes that snagged her attention the most. Wide spaced, gray with large black pupils and a black ring outside of the iris, they also gave the impression of a hawk. Maybe an eagle. And then her gaze wandered down to his delicious-looking mouth. Leah saw a lazy smile spread across it, and she felt relief tunnel through her. As hard as this man looked, his mouth was his saving grace. It was chiseled, the lower lip slightly fuller, the corners curved naturally upward. This man laughed a lot, Leah thought. His black hair was longish, almost to the nape of his neck, his face bearded. That made sense if he was a SEAL. They always wore beards and had long hair in order to fit in with the male Muslim population of Afghanistan.

“That’s it, Sugar,” he soothed, “just rest. You’re going to be fine. I’ll take good care of you.”

Those last words rang in her mind. I’ll take good care of you. Leah closed her eyes, his hand cradling her left forearm as if he were holding a much-beloved child. A large hand, the fingers so long that Leah could feel their length against her upper limb. His hand was calloused and felt rough on her sensitive skin. Her mind was cartwheeling between the past and present.

Hayden Grant, her ex-husband, came out of the blackness and threatened to engulf her. His leering features, those pale blue eyes that looked almost colorless when he was going to beat her, stared back at her.

The man with the Southern drawl broke the hold of her building terror. He would take care of her. No man had ever done that before. Not her father. Not her ex-husband. Yet, as Leah felt herself fighting not to lose consciousness, she honed in on this stranger’s quiet, soft voice.

“Now take some slow, deep breaths. You need oxygen. That’s it, just take it nice and easy, you’re doin’ well. We’ll get you up and over this shock you’re wallowing around in right now.”

Leah had no way of explaining why his drawl had such a powerful impact on her, but it did. She listened to his voice, caressed by its natural warmth, and for the first time in her life she trusted a man. He was leading her out of the dark, pulling her into the light, and she desperately wanted to rid herself of Hayden’s sneering face, his colorless eyes locked on to her, coming after her, his fist cocked to strike her.

Leah quivered, and a rasping cry lodged in her throat. And then, Hayden’s face disappeared, drowned out by the man speaking to her, calling her back to the here and now.

Frantic, Leah struggled to hone in on his voice, trying to understand his instructions. More than anything, that physical link with him, his large hand swallowing up her forearm, was like a beacon of hope, an anchor in her world of chaos and distortion.

“You’re coming around,” he told her. “A couple more slow breaths ought to do it.”

Leah felt weakness steal through her even though she wanted to wake up. And then, she felt a cool, delicious cloth move across her wrinkled brow. The coolness felt refreshing against the heat of her skin. Her skin was tight and smarting, as if she’d been in strong sunlight far too long. The cloth caressed her right cheek, and then her left one. She felt the coolness encircle her neck and Leah swallowed, her mouth so dry it felt as if it were going to crack. She was suddenly so thirsty that it drove her to wakefulness.

“Hey,” Kell called softly, giving her an easy smile, “welcome back to the land of the living. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He studied her eyes, and he could see she was starting to register his voice. As a combat medic, he knew a concussion, even a mild one, rattled a person’s brain. As she barely turned her head, his face so close to hers, he could see her eyes were a deep forest green, reminding him of the trees on the hills around his parents’ home in Sandy Hook, the dairy farm that was surrounded by the Appalachian Mountains. That midsummer green was found in the oak, elm and beech trees, identical to the shade of her breathtakingly beautiful eyes.

Kell knew the advantage of talking slowly, soothingly, to someone who had just survived near death. He’d done it for members of his SEAL platoon over the years. Taking the cloth, he wiped away more of the dried blood along the slender column of her neck. Touch was important. It anchored a person who was disoriented and it helped them focus.

He continued to cradle her arm because he didn’t want her trying to use it while it was open to infection. As soon as he could get her conscious, Kell would explain to her what he was going to do. Then he could get on with stabilizing the pilot.

Leah slowly licked her lips and frowned, staring up at him. Kell would give anything to know what she was thinking. Strands of ginger hair fell across half her brow.

He set the cloth on his ruck and with his long, spare fingers, eased the strands away from her face. Her cheeks had been wan, but now he was starting to see a bit of color flood back into them. That sinner’s mouth of hers was his undoing. The woman didn’t wear any makeup. There was no need for any, Kell observed. Her hair glinted in the light thrown out by his LED flashlight. He saw some auburn strands mixed with red and gold ones. There was a light covering of freckles across her cheeks, as well.

His medic’s eyes noticed her nose had been badly broken. It didn’t lessen the impact of her face, which grabbed simultaneously at his heart and lower body. Still, Kell wondered how she’d broken it. And why hadn’t it been reset? Some doc hadn’t done his job, that was for damned sure.

Picking up the washcloth, he continued to gently move it across her brow, cheeks and neck. Kell could tell she liked it because the tension flowed out of her. What had she cried out about earlier? Pain? He wanted to give her a small dose of morphine, but didn’t dare until he could fully assess her head injury.

Leah closed her eyes, suddenly weary. The coolness of the cloth against her skin felt heavenly. It struck her spinning senses that it could be a lover gently and tenderly caressing her. She’d never known such a touch. Never would. But his ministrations helped her battle back the darkness that once again wanted to engulf her.

She felt the cloth lift. Missing his touch, she forced her eyes open. This time, her brain registered how tall and lean he was. There was kindness in his gaze and it shook Leah. A man who was kind? In another lifetime maybe. Her stomach rolled and she felt the acid in the back of her throat. It came on suddenly, out of nowhere. And then, it subsided. Breathing irregularly, Leah put her hand against her stomach. At least she was feeling better than before.

“Are you thirsty?”

Leah nodded only once because her head hurt so damn much when she moved it. He was wrapping something around her lower left arm. And then, she felt him leave her side. Opening her eyes, she saw his darkly shadowed shape move from her left side, stop near her feet and retrieve something out of a bag and then straighten. He was lean and graceful, reminding her of a wild animal, a predator, bonelessly moving in her direction. She closed her eyes, her cartwheeling imagination out of control.

Her mind halted as Leah felt his arm slide beneath her neck. He slowly raised her up into a semisitting position. She was too weak to open her eyes.

“Don’t drink too much water. Your stomach’s probably raising hell on you about now.”

Leah felt the press of the bottle lip against her mouth, tasted the first of the water. She was so thirsty. He didn’t allow her a lot of water and she made an unhappy noise in her throat, a protest, when he withdrew the water bottle from her lips.

Weak, her head lolled against his shoulder. Leah inhaled the odor of male sweat and the damp fabric he wore. Automatically, her nostrils flared. He carefully laid her down.

Leah felt her stomach lurch and she rolled herself onto her left side, heaving. Her stomach emptied and the dry heaves took over. Leah hated vomiting more than anything, the bitter taste of acid coating her mouth. Her eyes watered. Her nose ran like a faucet. Feeling a mess, the man brought her back into his arms. Breathing hard, Leah weakly tried to wipe her mouth to get rid of the horrible taste.

“Easy,” he soothed near her ear, holding her in his arms. “I’m going to give you a little more water. Hold it in your mouth, swish it around and then spit it out.”

His instructions were easy enough for Leah to follow. Opening her eyes, she spat the stuff out onto the cave floor. Her mind felt more clear, less gauzy and incoherent. He gave her more water and she did the same thing.

“A concussion will do that to you,” he told her quietly. Kell knew he shouldn’t enjoy holding this woman officer in his arms, but he did. She looked so helpless.

But he knew that wasn’t the case if she was a Shadow pilot. She had a set of invisible titanium balls as far as he was concerned, and he smiled a little. His respect for her was solid. SEALs held all Shadow pilots in high esteem. They risked their lives every time they went out on a mission to pick them up or drop them off in enemy territory. This woman was no weakling. And damn, he liked a strong woman, someone who had backbone coupled with grit woven with a stubborn spirit. Just looking at Chief L. Mackenzie, Kell knew she encompassed all those qualities. And like it or not, he was drawn to her because of it.

Leah lay in his arms, her cheek resting against his broad chest. She could hear the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, feel the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Under ordinary circumstances, she’d have pushed away and not allowed a man to touch her, much less hold her intimately like this. Her senses were warped, and she swore she could feel his incredible concern radiating from him to her, enveloping her, holding her safe. Never had she felt anything like this from any man. It just wasn’t possible. It was her imagination.

Yet, when he caressed her gritty, dirty cheek, his fingers rough against her skin, tears burned against her closed eyelids. The gesture wasn’t sexual. It was caring. More tears welled into her eyes and Leah wished somewhere deep within her that, when she’d been eight years old, her father had held her like this. Held her, protected her, let her know that he loved her even though... Leah shut the ugly door on that time in her life, serrating pain squeezing her heart.

As he laid her down, Leah felt abandoned. She wanted those arms around her. She already missed the momentary sense of safety he’d afforded her as she’d lain against his chest. Battling back the tears, Leah gulped several times, her emotions running rampant. She could barely control them. Lifting her lashes she saw the man walk around and kneel at her left side once again. There was concern in his eyes, care burning deep within them. She could feel it, sense it.

“Wh-who...?” she managed, her voice cracking. She saw him tip his head, study her in the silence. For once, she didn’t feel like she always did when a man looked at her. All they saw were her breasts, her ass and her long legs. They didn’t see her as a person, only as a sexual object, just as Hayden had.

“Welcome back,” he said, that easy smile shaping his mouth. “I’m Navy Chief Kelly Ballard. I rescued you after you egressed out of that burning helo.”

Swallowing hard, Leah stared into his shadowed, hard face. It it weren’t for his Southern accent, that hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his well-shaped mouth, she’d have been scared. Because most men scared her. “K-Kelly?” Her mind was trying to wrap around all the information. It was too much for her to process.

“Most folks just call me Kell,” he offered.

That was better. It was simple. Her mind could handle four letters. Leah looked up. It was dark. She tried to see where she was. Only a small light cast shadows between them. She could see nothing else. Her brows drew down and she tried to think, but damn, thoughts were elusive. “Where?”

“In a cave,” he told her quietly. Kell could see her fighting to put it all together. He saw her confusion. Her eyes were more alert looking. He added, “You’re safe. I want you to just relax.”

Safe. Leah closed her eyes. She couldn’t understand why she trusted this man. This stranger with the soft, deep Southern voice.

“I need to tend to your arm,” he told her, placing it across his thighs. “You cut it badly. I need to clean it out and stitch it up. Think you can lie still while I do that?”

Arm. Yes, it hurt like hell. Slowly moving her head to the left, because movement made her dizzy and then nauseous, Leah saw her lower arm wrapped in white gauze. She saw dark coloring across the dressing, slowly realizing it was blood. Her blood.

He was pulling medical items out of his ruck and laying them neatly next to where he knelt on a small blanket. He donned a pair of gloves, and then took a syringe and poked the needle into a bottle he held.

“Y-yes, I won’t move,” she managed, her voice raw, her throat feeling dry and hot.

“You’re a real trooper,” he murmured. “I’m going to take off the dressing and then I’m going to give you several shots of Lidocaine that will numb the area I have to clean out and then stitch up. You ready for that?”

“Y-yes.” It took such effort to speak. Leah wondered if he was a doctor, because he seemed completely confident in what he was doing. The bloody gauze came off. He cradled her arm across his hard thighs. The pricks of the needle were uncomfortable, but nothing like the pain she felt in her arm.

“Good going,” he praised, setting the syringe aside. “Now we’ll give it a couple of minutes and then I can clean it out and stitch it up.”

Frowning, she studied him. “Doctor?”

“No, ma’am. Combat medic.” He gave her a lazy grin. “But you’re in good hands, so no worries.”

She did trust him. What was it about Kell? The earnestness in his expression, a face that had been so harshly weathered? That kind, understanding look in those dark gray eyes of his? The way his mouth moved when he spoke to her in that rich, country-boy dialect that just naturally set her at ease? Leah felt as if her world had not only been pulled inside out, but upside down. A man could never be trusted on a personal level.

Oh, she trusted the pilots she flew with, but that was different. There were no emotional ties with them. It was professional, detached, and they all had a job to do.

And then, the crash slammed back into her memory. Leah gasped, her eyes widening. She tried to get up, but he gently placed his hand on her shoulder and kept her down.

“Sugar, you’re not ready to get up just yet. What’s wrong?”

Her emotions ran wild. Grief tunneled through her. “M-my crew...”

Kell saw tears jam into her eyes, heard the rasping terror in her voice. He kept his hand on her shoulder more to comfort her than anything else. “I’m sorry. They didn’t make it. Only you managed to escape.” His heart wrenched as huge tears rolled down her pale, tense cheeks. Oh, hell, he hated when a woman cried. “Your helo got hit with two RPGs,” he told her. “You were lucky you survived.”

Leah lifted her right hand, covering her eyes, a sob rocking through her. Brian, Liam and Ted gone? Dead? She couldn’t help herself. She began crying, softly because every time her body jerked she felt bruising pain in her head and left arm. She felt Kell’s large hand on her shoulder, patting it gently like he would pat a child who was upset. She let her hand fall away from her eyes and she gave him a pleading look. “Are you sure they’re dead?”

It hurt Kell, but he said, “They’re gone. I’m sorry,” and he gently pressed his fingertips here and there around the gash. She showed no reaction to his touch. “Can you lie still now for me? I need to stitch this closed and I can’t do it if you’re moving around. Okay?”

Leah collapsed against the makeshift bed he’d placed beneath her. She dragged her good arm across her eyes, grief-stricken over the loss of Brian and their crew. “Yes, go ahead,” she choked out brokenly, her voice gutted with grief.

It didn’t take Kell long to clean and stitch up the nasty gash. He could feel grief rolling off her. Kell understood loss because he’d lost some of his best SEAL friends over the past nine years. There was nothing he could say or do. Grief had its own way with a person and sometimes nothing could stop it, lift it or dissolve it.

As he finished placing a waterproof dressing over most of her lower arm, he gently laid it across her belly. Getting up, he put everything back into his ruck where it belonged. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was nearly 0300. It was time to check out things around their hide. Kell never took anything for granted. The Taliban were sniffing around for them and he knew it. They were premier trackers, never to be underestimated.

He knelt down on one knee and touched her shoulder. She pulled her arm away from her reddened eyes. “I need to do a little recon,” he told her. “I’ll be back in about thirty to forty minutes.” He pulled his SIG pistol out and placed it near her right hand. “You know how to use a pistol? It’s got nine rounds in the magazine and there’s a bullet in the chamber. There’s no safety on this model. If I don’t come back, then know there’s a tunnel—” and he pointed toward it “—over there. If you hear Taliban coming, get my ruck, put it on your back and take that tunnel out to the side of the mountain. It’s got a compass and map, plus a sat phone in it. You can call for help. Okay?” His gaze dug into hers. Kell could see she understood his instructions.

“I can do that,” Leah said, her voice husky with tears.

Kell reached out and gently touched the crown of her head because he saw the look of terror and abandonment in her eyes. She was still fragile from the head injury. “I’ll be back, Sugar,” he promised.

Leah watched as he took long, lanky strides and disappeared into the darkness with his Win-Mag across his shoulder. She turned, realizing the penlight was the only light source for her to be able to see the area where she lay. Slowly, Leah weakly pushed herself into a sitting position. She was on a sleeping bag with two rolled-up blankets, one for a pillow, the other beneath her knees.

Emotionally, she felt demolished, the tears still falling over the loss of Brian, Liam and Ted. She scrubbed her eyes, finding her left arm painful to raise. Staring at the dressing, Leah began to appreciate Kell’s medical skills.

Gazing around, she heard running and dripping water to her right. She picked up the penlight and flashed it in that direction. There was a small pool of water. Leah realized water was leaking from above the cave roof, finding its way down into the pool. They had water. That was a good thing.

Her head ached like hell. Every time she turned it, dizziness struck her. Leah knew if Kell didn’t return, she wouldn’t have much of a chance of survival by herself. Not in her present injured condition.

She was exhausted and lay down on her right side. Less pain in her head that way. The cave was chilly, so she reached down and took the rolled blanket, smoothing it out across her damp flight suit. Finally, she was warm, and she shut her eyes and spiraled quickly into a deep, healing sleep.

* * *

KELL RETURNED AN hour later. He moved without a sound as he entered the cave. Turning on his other penlight, he saw the woman pilot asleep. Good.

Wearily, he propped up his Win-Mag against the cave wall. Picking up his pistol, which was very near her right hand, he brought it to the other side of where she slept. There was nothing to do now but rest. He stretched out on the cave floor and pulled his ruck up as a pillow for his head.

Two feet away from him Chief Mackenzie slept. He felt compelled to curve himself around her body, but knew that he couldn’t. She was an Army warrant officer. He was an enlisted Navy SEAL. The two would never meet rank-wise. And besides, he liked a woman to come to him on her own rather than imposing himself on her. Closing his eyes, Kell dropped off in minutes.

An hour later, Kell was snapped out of his sleep by a voice. Instantly, he pulled the other rifle he carried, the M-4, into his hands, trying to peer into the utter darkness. And then he realized it was the woman pilot talking in her sleep. She was restless, moving onto her back.

Worried, Kell set the rifle nearby and turned on the penlight, propping it against the cave wall, close enough so he could assess her condition. Slowly getting to his knees, Kell saw her throw her right arm across her face, as if someone were hitting her. Her cries were soft, almost like a rabbit crying after being caught by a predator. What in tarnation was going on here?

“No...”

Hesitating, Kell sat paralyzed for a moment, unsure whether to wake her up or not. A lot of people in his business had nightmares. It was just part of the PTSD they all got sooner or later.

“No! Hayden! Don’t hit me!”

His heart plummeted. Someone was hitting her? No way. Yet he saw her trying to use her right arm to defend herself from unseen head blows. What the hell? And then, Kell saw her jerk her left arm up. She cried out in pain, waking herself up.

Kell moved to Mackenzie’s side, gently catching her left arm, bringing it down against her belly. “Hey, Sugar, you’re having some bad dreams. I need you to wake up.” She was breathing unevenly. He placed his fingers inside her wrist. Her pulse was pounding like a freight train.

When her eyes opened, he saw them glazed with terror. Her soft, full mouth was contorted, the corners pulled inward. Automatically, Kell smoothed her hair across the top of her head, crooning to her. She was still caught in whatever the nightmare was. Kell didn’t want to believe that a man was hitting her. Maybe just a bad dream about the crash?

Leah moaned and covered her eyes with her right hand. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” she muttered, her voice low and hoarse.

“It’s all right,” Kell murmured. He liked the soft strands of her hair. It was strong, thick hair. The strands were silky and sifted through his fingers. He saw his touch was having a positive effect on her. He kept his other hand over hers, keeping that injured arm on her belly, unmoving because it was such a long, deep gash. Sudden movement could rip the stitches he’d so carefully put in.

Kell’s hand on hers felt warm and dry. Leah felt sweaty. She was trembling from the nightmare that came too often and usually left her up the rest of the night, adrenaline screaming through her body to run and escape.

She needed Kell’s firm, warm touch. His hand was so much larger than hers, spreading out across her abdomen. The more he moved strands of her hair through his fingers, the more she calmed down. Leah wondered if he was like a horse whisperer, having magical qualities in his hands and voice to tame even the most violent of human beings. Whatever it was, maybe because he was a combat medic, he had a healing touch. And she trusted him.

Kell saw her start to pull out of it and removed his hands. He rested them on his thighs, absorbing her beauty. Probably married. Yep, someone as pretty as she was would definitely be married. He felt sad about that, but he was a realist. Even if she hadn’t been, it would never work. It was against the UCMJ for an officer to fraternize with an enlisted person. Both could receive a bad conduct discharge, which would leave their careers effectively destroyed.

Yet, as he absorbed her, his heart reached out to her. That was silly and he snorted softly. He had a family called the SEALs. Getting involved again was not in the cards. It was a high-stakes poker game and the last time Kell had played it, he’d lost.

His lawyer wife, Addison, had hated his long periods of being gone, his having to spend six months in combat. She told him she felt as though she was marrying the SEALs and not him. Sadly, there was a lot of truth to her incisive statement. Kell had learned the hard way women weren’t meant to be married to a SEAL for long. There was a 90 percent divorce rate among them. And if a marriage lasted ten years, that was considered a long time. That should have warned him off, but it hadn’t. Now, he was a part of that sad statistic.

Leah opened her eyes, released from the nightmare. She felt Kell’s presence to her left and slowly turned her head. He sat back on his heels watching her. There was such calm in his face. His shoulders were so broad, as if they could carry more weight than a normal person’s. Even dressed in SEAL cammies, she could see his chest was broad, hips narrow. He was probably around six foot, maybe a little more. Her gaze drifted down to his hands resting on his long, hard thighs.

Healing hands. Hands that did not hurt her, but took her pain away. She closed her eyes. The agony of her abusive marriage had taken a chunk out of her fractured soul. Hayden had taught her about the dark side of a man’s nature. He’d been a sexual predator, physically, emotionally and mentally abusive to her. He’d needed to control her, remind her who was boss.

How had she survived it? There were times when Leah thought for sure Hayden was going to kill her. He’d come close three different times. And all three times, she’d ended up in the hospital. Desperate to forget it, Leah opened her eyes and met Kell’s curious gaze.

“I’m sorry for waking you...”

“It happens,” he said with a slight shrug. “Want to sit up?”

Nodding, she whispered, “Yes, but I feel like a damned puppet.”

Ballard gave her a lazy grin and came over and helped her, placing the blanket behind her back so the rough cave wall wouldn’t tear at her or her flight suit. “You will for a couple of days.” He brought over her helmet. “Take a look at this.” He turned it so that it showed where part of it had been split open.

Drawing in a deep breath, Leah’s eyes widened. “That was the blade,” she rasped. “It came flying into the cockpit.” And it had struck Brian, and part of it had cut into her helmet. She whispered tearfully, “Jesus...”

“Yes, I suspect Jesus did have something to do with saving you tonight,” Kell murmured, placing the helmet aside. He saw the stark reality in her eyes, the understanding that she could have been decapitated if she’d been at a different angle in that cockpit. Just inches...

“I’m not a religious person,” Leah muttered, closing her eyes, remembering the blade slicing like a saber through the cockpit.

“All men find religion in foxholes,” he drawled. “Death makes for a lot of converts.”

Opening her eyes, she looked over at him. She was feeling better but only marginally. “I never told you who I was. I’m Leah Mackenzie. Thank you for saving my life.”

Heat coursed down through Kell. The expression in her eyes touched his heart. His whole damn body was on fire. No woman had ever affected him so powerfully. He could see the gratefulness in her green eyes, in the way her mouth went soft. So damned kissable. If only... He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to officially meet you, ma’am.”

“Don’t go there,” she protested. “Just call me Leah. Please?” She gave him a pleading look. “I don’t think the UCMJ is out here looking over our shoulders right now, do you?”

He managed a one-cornered grin. “No, I guess not. That’s a pretty name you have, Leah.”

“An old-fashioned name. I was named after my grandmother, who I loved so much.”

“Nothing wrong with being a bit old-fashioned,” he said. “I kind of like it.” Hell, he was devouring her with his eyes. Kell didn’t think she really knew how beautiful she was. There was no arrogance about her. No sense of entitlement that some gorgeous women demanded. She appeared homespun to him and that just added to his desire for her.

“How did you know my name?”

“When you were unconscious, I pulled out your dog tags.” He motioned to them hanging outside her flight suit. “I called my master chief, reported what happened. Told him I had you and gave him your name and number. I didn’t want your husband and the rest of your family thinking you’d died in that crash.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, the honesty and concern in his gaze, she admitted, “I don’t have a husband.” Thank God for small and large favors. “And my father—” she shrugged painfully, her whole body feeling massively bruised “—he’ll see this as a pain in his ass, one that I’ve always been to him. It’s just one more thing he’s got to ‘handle.’” Bitterness coated her tone. “I don’t know whether he’ll be relieved or not.”

Stunned by her admission, Kell sat down, crossing his legs, his long, spare hands resting over his knees. He saw grief in Leah’s eyes, even though she tried to sound tough, as if she didn’t care. But she did. He could feel it.

Kell couldn’t be dishonest with himself. He was glad to hear she wasn’t married, but that surprised the hell out of him. “I can’t think any parent wouldn’t want to know their child was safe.”

Mouth thinning, she sighed. “Not all families are happy families, Kell.”

“If you don’t have a husband, then maybe a significant other?”

“No.” Her voice hardened. “I don’t ever want to be in a marriage or a relationship ever again.”

Chills went through Kell. The look in her eyes was that of a trapped animal who hadn’t been able to escape. And then he remembered the name she’d cried out during the nightmare: Hayden. Was that her ex-husband? “What about a mother?”

“Dead,” Leah said, closing her eyes for a moment, wanting the pain in her head to reduce. “She’s better off that way.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Kell said, meaning it. When she opened her eyes, he saw moistness in them. “Listen, let me do a quick exam on you. If your pupils stay equal, I can get you some morphine to kill that pain.” He looked at his watch. It was 0530. It was June 2 and the sun would be rising early. They could stay awake or sleep. No. He desperately needed some more sleep.

“Sure,” Leah said. She watched Kell open the ruck. He pulled out a penlight. And then he got up on one knee, his large hand engulfing the right side of her face as he cradled her jaw. He leaned forward, maybe six inches between them.

“Just look at my nose,” he instructed. “I’m going to pass the light from one eye to the other. If all goes well, your eyes should dilate equally.”

Her cheek prickled with heat, his fingers rough, but somehow, incredibly gentle. Hayden had never touched her like that. Not ever. All he knew how to be toward her was rough and hurtful.

Leah kept her eyes trained on Kell’s intent face. He passed the light slowly from right to left. And then back again.

“You’re good to go,” he murmured, pleased, as he switched off the light. Kell wanted to keep his hand on her jaw. God help him, but he wanted to kiss Leah senseless. That mouth of hers, full, exquisitely shaped, was wreaking hell on his sense of control. Forcing himself to break contact with her, Kell leaned over and rummaged around for a syringe and another bottle. He put just enough morphine in it to dull pain while still keeping Leah alert, not sleepy.

Rubbing her upper arm with an alcohol wipe, he gave her the shot. “There, you’re going to feel a whole lot more perky in about ten minutes.” He gave her a warm smile and sat back down, putting the medical items back where they belonged.

“Thanks,” Leah whispered. “How did you know I was in pain?”

Shrugging, Kell murmured as he closed the ruck. “I sense it, I guess. Taken care of a number of my SEAL buddies in my platoon over the past nine years. I don’t know if I’m seeing it or feeling it. SEALs usually hide their pain, so I’d have to say it’s probably my gut instinct telling me.”

“Something I’m sure all you SEALs have in spades,” Leah said, watching the grace of his long fingers. Kell was boneless, she decided. Ruggedly handsome, in top athletic shape and very kind. That wasn’t the picture of a SEAL she’d expected. But then, Leah didn’t have that much contact with them, except to pick up and drop off teams. There was no time for chit-chat when that was happening. She saw he was tired.

“Maybe we could sleep for a while longer? I don’t know what your plan is for me.”

Lifting his head, Kell said, “We’ve got a whopping amount of Taliban all around us right now. They’re starting a push through the border area. My master chief said for us to sit tight if possible. It might take us days or maybe a week to get picked up. Either that, or try walking back into Bravo, which would be very dangerous.”

Staring at him like he’d grown two heads, Leah said, “What?” No rescue coming?

“We’re sandwiched in,” Kell explained, his voice becoming serious. “Master chief knows I know these mountains and caves better than anyone. And I was on a sniper op, waiting for an HVT when your crash occurred. He wants me to stick around to try to nail the HVT, and I want too, also.”

“Okay,” she said, understanding.

“You’ll be safe here,” Kell assured her. “And you aren’t in any serious medical condition, so the plan changed a bit. I need to take care of you, which I will, but I also have to nail that HVT. I’ve been sitting out here three weeks waiting for him.” He smiled a little. “What’s one more week? Besides, with that head injury of yours, the flight surgeon will put you on medical waiver for at least two to three weeks. You won’t be able to fly, anyway. Consider this a vacation of sorts.”

All that was true. Even now the pain was easing in her head and for that Leah was grateful to Kell, for his care and continued thoughtfulness. She had a deep, scary feeling that her entire life had just changed, but she couldn’t predict the outcome of it, or understand the challenges that would come with it as a result. Yet...

CHAPTER THREE

“ARE YOU HUNGRY?” Kell asked her. Leah looked pensive after he’d given her a seven-day sentence of remaining in this cave with him.

Rubbing her stomach, she said, “I think so. Not sure...”

“Shock,” he murmured. He pulled out a bottle of water and opened it for her. “Keep drinking all the fluids you can. I know you’re close to dehydration.”

Her fingers touched his. Leah was starved for Kell’s touch. Since when did she ever entertain the idea of any man ever touching her again? Hayden had cured her of that. Yet, she trusted Kell. And why shouldn’t she? She’d be dead now if not for his intervention. His heroism under fire, hauling her sorry ass out of that deadly situation, deserved a medal in her book.

Leah drank deeply. How did Kell know she was near dehydration? Was the man a mind reader? Was it his large, thoughtful-looking gray eyes that gleamed with intelligence? The natural kindness that glowed in their depths?

She watched Kell get up and, with lanky strides, leave the cave, make a right turn and disappear down a tunnel.

Realizing there was more light in the cave, Leah looked up. Just above her was a huge hole in the cave wall. And it was filtering in dawn light. Leah felt a sense of relief after the overwhelming blackness. Kell returned with some items in his large hands.

“Breakfast,” he said, opening up an MRE and setting it in her lap. “You need to eat whether you feel like it or not. This cave is about as safe as it gets, but it’s never totally safe. Today, I need you to eat, drink and sleep.”

He was all business now. Leah could see he had a mental checklist of things he had to do. After all, he was a sniper. And he had other fish to fry besides babysitting her. Lamenting the loss of his warmth and attention, Leah set the half-emptied water bottle beside her. “Thanks,” she said.

Kell watched her mouth tighten. It was her left arm. “Tell you what,” he said, rising and moving to his ruck. “I’m going to fashion you a sling so you can get that arm parallel to your body. The more the arm hangs down, the more blood collects in the lower part of it, which makes for a lot more pain and swelling.” He opened the ruck and pulled out a sealed plastic bag that contained a dark green triangular cotton cloth folded up in it.

Leah watched him, mesmerized by his grace, those long fingers of his quick to fashion a triangle out of the light cotton fabric. He knelt down on one knee, gently placing the sling beneath her left forearm. His face was inches from hers as he brought the ends up and quickly tied them behind the nape of her neck. He smelled of sweat, dirt and male. It did something internally to Leah; as if some primitive part of her were responding to his nearness, her body reacting to his earthy male scent. Something she’d never noticed with another man before.

“There,” Kell murmured, looking pleased with his efforts. “How does your arm feel now, Leah?”

She felt her heart open just a crack as her name rolled softly from his lips. It sounded like a prayer. A beautiful prayer. “I-it feels good, Kell.” She looked up into his hooded eyes and gave him a grateful look. “I feel spoiled, to tell you the truth. You’ve taken such good care of me. Thank you...”

He gave her a lazy smile. “Medics are like that,” he drawled, easing to his feet, shutting up the ruck and then sitting down near her. He opened the MRE for her and warmed the food in the heating pouch.

“I’ve never been on the receiving end of a combat medic before,” Leah admitted. Now, with her arm in a sling, she only had one good hand and found herself fumbling with the other packets.

The next moment, Kell was kneeling next to her, his knee nearly touching her thigh. It happened so fast, so silently, that Leah began to realize what SEAL meant. The man moved like a shadow. She’d been focused on trying to open the packet of food, distracted, and he’d just shown up like magic at her side.

“Let me do that,” he murmured, taking the bag. He tore it open, looked at the rest of the MRE and got everything open and available for her to eat after it was heated up. He took the plastic utensils out of their wrapper, as well.

“I’m not used to feeling helpless,” Leah muttered uncomfortably, giving him an apologetic look.

“Everyone needs to lean on someone at some point,” Kell said philosophically, easing back to where his MRE sat. Leaning up against the wall, one long leg hitched up, he quickly consumed everything in the MRE.

Leah thought about his words, slowly testing the food. If her stomach rebelled, she was not going to eat even if Kell wanted her to. Somehow, she knew he’d understand.

Kell tipped his head back and glanced over at Leah. He’d seen her brows dip over his comment. “Tell me about your family. Where were you born?”

The questions, softly asked, made Leah’s stomach clench. She owed him, so she said, “I was born in Istanbul, Turkey. My father is in the Army. He was stationed there with our family.”

“Turkey? You’re exotic, then,” he teased, smiling at her. Kell saw her look awkward. Why? “That was a compliment,” he added. And she was exotic looking, her green eyes slightly tilted, giving her a mysterious quality. But in truth? He also saw a haunted look in them, as well. Kell couldn’t figure out why she was so wary of him. So troubled.

“I’m hardly exotic,” Leah muttered darkly. It thrilled her that he saw her like that. At the same time, she remembered Hayden making fun of the tilt of her eyes, saying she looked ugly. She looked different. No other man would want her. She was lucky to have him. Oh, yeah, real damned lucky.

“Listen,” Kell said gently, “if you’re uncomfortable with me because I’m an enlisted person and you’re a warrant officer, you just tell me.”

Stricken, Leah felt her lips part as she stared in shock over his statement. “What? No. Of course not. You saved my life, Kell. I’ve never been one to make a big deal that I’m a warrant. I work with enlisted people all the time and I see them as part of my team. I respect them.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, holding her upset gaze. “You just need to speak up and tell me what’s comfortable for you and what’s not. I have a feeling you aren’t too good at communicating to others on a personal level.” He added a slight grin to take the sting out of his observation.

Leah was hiding a whole helluva lot and he felt as if she was a mine field he had to negotiate. He wasn’t sure where to step with Leah without her becoming defensive. Like she was right now.

Leah scowled, hit hard by his comment. She was too tired to put up her normal defenses to keep the world—and him—at bay. Kell had been nothing but kind, caring and supportive toward her. Leah waffled between evading what he’d asked and telling him the truth. She put the MRE aside, no longer hungry.

“It’s hard for me to open up,” she admitted, her voice strained.

“Maybe a trust issue?”

She stared at him. Good God, he was a mind reader! Leah saw no judgment in Kell’s expression, his expression sympathetic as he held her shaken gaze. She leaned back against the rock wall and closed her eyes. “I don’t trust too many people,” she admitted wearily.

Well, if she had been a real mine field, Kell told himself grimly, he’d have just lost his leg. The look on Leah’s face bothered him. She was a beautiful, confident, intelligent woman. A powerhouse, because she was a ball-busting Shadow pilot. Only the cream of the Army’s helo pilots ever got invited to join the 80th. And she was one of them.

He ate the rest of his MRE in silence. Looking at his watch, he knew he had to get going to find a new hide. His old one had been compromised last night.

Silently rising, Kell went about putting on his H-gear harness, placing six mags of bullets for his .300 Win-Mag rifle in the front pockets. Automatically, he checked his SIG Sauer pistol, made sure a bullet was in the chamber and slid it back into his drop holster.

His mind was moving over a mental list of what he had to do. Dawn was a good time to search for a new hide location. Usually, the Taliban didn’t start moving until after first light. Prayers and tea, in that order, first. By that time, the sun was well above the horizon. He set the rifle on the wall near his ruck.

Leah watched him, the silence heavy in the cave. It was because of her. Her prickly defensiveness. She never wanted a man to get inside her walls again. Never wanted a man to know who she was, her vulnerabilities and weaknesses. Hayden had exploited every one of them against her, took her power and controlled her to a large extent. Kell had scared the hell out of her with his simple observations. He was right that trust didn’t come easy to her. Compressing her lips, she asked, “How long will you be gone?”

“Until nightfall,” he answered. Kell handed her four bottles of water from his ruck and set them beside her. “I want to see these empty when I get back tonight,” he told her, giving her a serious look. “There’s a cave to the right of this one. There’s all kinds of foodstuffs, ammo and boxes of water. I don’t know how steady you’ll be on your feet today, but if you get bored, look around a little.”

“Okay,” she said. He was so damned swift and efficient, his hands flying over his gear, pulling the ruck up on one shoulder, the Win-Mag in his large left hand. He settled the boonie cap on his head. He had a pair of wraparound sunglasses hanging out of one of his cammie shirt pockets.

Kell strode out of the cave, turned right, and Leah could hear him repacking his ruck. When he came back, he set the ruck down, strapped the Win-Mag on the back of it and then hauled on the pack. Moving his hands along the thick straps, he belted it up so it rode comfortably on his shoulders and around his waist.

“I’m taking the sat phone,” Kell told her. “There will be no way for you to contact me.” He gestured to the cave. “No signals get in or out of here.” And then his voice became teasing. “If I had an iPod, I’d give it to you to listen to some good bluegrass music, but it’s back at Bravo.”

She managed a slight smile, drowning in the warmth of his gray gaze. “I like bluegrass.”

“Really?” Kell was pleased. “We have something in common.” He patted his left breast pocket. “I always carry my harmonica with me.”

“Where were you born?” Leah couldn’t stop the personal question from flying out of her mouth. She had a million questions for this man who had saved her life.

“Sandy Hook, Kentucky. My folks are originally from Alabama and moved us up north when I was a year old.” He crouched down near her, his eyes becoming serious looking. “Now listen, Sugar, you take it easy on yourself today. I know you’re a Type-A hotshot pilot, but right now, your wings are clipped and you need to stand down for just a bit.”

Leah felt like the sun had suddenly come out and incredible warmth encircled her. It was Kell. It was his genuine care and concern for her. She felt heat moving from her neck into her face. At twenty-eight she was blushing? His eyes were large, intense upon her, as if she were his whole world in that moment. The sensation was hot, alive, and Leah suddenly felt her body respond to him as a man. Rocked by the unexpected sensations, she managed in a whisper, “I’ll be good. Don’t worry.”

Kell grinned and reached out, moving a few strands away from her flushed cheek and eased them behind her delicate ear. He’d seen his care make an amazing difference in Leah. It struck him that she wasn’t used to a man’s attention. And that she was innocent. As if she didn’t know how to handle him or his teasing. Kell tucked that knowledge away, not wanting Leah to feel threatened by him. In the back of his mind, he was very sure some bastard had really hurt her emotionally. She reacted like an injured animal that was constantly being threatened. And he saw her eyes suddenly go soft when he’d tucked those ginger-colored strands behind her ear.

He liked touching her, understanding she craved it. He craved her. That was a far different scenario. This was his territory, his world, and she was a stranger to it, thrown off guard and out of her element. It was up to him to make her feel welcomed and a part of it.

“Take care out there,” Leah whispered as he rose fluidly to his feet.

“Always,” Ballard promised. He lifted his hand and then walked silently out of the cave.

* * *

KELL SAW A SMALL penlight on as he approached the cave many hours later. He turned the corner and saw Leah sitting up, her gaze on him as he appeared around the wall of the cave. “How are you doing?” he asked quietly, coming over and shrugging out of the ruck.

“Okay,” she murmured. “How’d it go out there today? Any luck?”

He knelt down on one knee, setting the ruck up against the wall. “No luck. I had to find and build a new hide today. Took most of the day, and the Taliban was quiet in the area.” He gave her a glance, seeing that her eyes looked dull. “Are you in pain?”

“A little,” Leah admitted, pointing to her arm in the sling.

“I should have left you some pain pills,” he said with apology, opening his ruck. “Here—” he handed her the medication “—this will stop the pain but keep you clearheaded.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, popping the pill in her mouth and drinking the last of the water in the fourth bottle.

Leah didn’t want to admit she’d looked forward to Kell coming back to the cave. His skin gleamed with sweat and she could tell he’d been running. His trousers were filthy, probably from digging a hide into a rocky mountain slope. He tossed his boonie cap over on his sleeping bag. His hair was dusty, as well.

He took off his H-gear, setting it next to the ruck. “Have you been up and about?”

“I tried.” She pointed to her bandaged head. “Dizzy.”

“Were you wanting to pitch forward?” he wondered, sitting down on the sleeping bag and unlacing his desert boots.

“Yes. How did you know?”

He smiled tiredly. “That’s a deep cut on your scalp. And I think you have a pretty good concussion. Probably a level-two variety. Most people get nausea and dizziness for two or three days after the incident.” He pulled off his boots and his dark green socks that were soaked with sweat. Rubbing his fingers across his aching feet, he said, “I’m taking a bath over there in that pool,” and pointed to it. “Need to get clean.”

“I’ve been looking at that pool, too,” Leah said wistfully. She wrinkled her nose. “I’m filthy.”

“Easy to get that way out here,” Kell agreed, standing. “I can carry you over there. Give you a sponge bath?” He entertained the thought of helping her undress. All day, off and on, he’d wondered what her body looked like beneath that sexless flight suit of hers. Kell knew he’d been out here way too long.

“No, I think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow. Maybe get cleaned up while you’re gone.” Her body reacted hotly to his suggestion, however. Leah found herself like a greedy little beggar, wanting any touch he’d bestow on her. What the hell was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she hide behind those elaborate walls she’d built up since her divorce?

Grunting, Kell said, “I’ll get you a towel, a washcloth and some soap.”

She watched him disappear into the cave where he had all his supplies hidden. Tomorrow, she wanted to get over there and explore his stash. Kell came back with the articles and set them near her. He had a towel draped over his shoulder.

“Now, unless you want to see me buck naked, you might want to just lie down and face the other way?”

“Right. No problem,” Leah muttered, embarrassed, turning over so that her back was toward the pool. Her heart was pulsing. Her desire to see him naked surprised the hell out of her. She was so drawn to his large hands—those fingers that were almost artist-like. And when Kell touched her...groaning softly to herself, Leah listened. And she wished, as she heard him walk into the pool, that she could turn around and appreciate him from a purely aesthetic standpoint.

Kell felt incredibly clean. The water was freezing cold, dripping off the tops of the mountains that remained snowbound all year-round. He tucked a towel around his waist and walked into the other cave to retrieve a clean pair of cammie trousers and a desert-tan T-shirt. He wiped his hair dry as he reentered the cave. Leah was sitting up once again. “All clear.”

She gulped, her gaze moving to his broad set of shoulders and his deep chest. The T-shirt stretched tautly across his upper body and it made her feel shaky inside. What was going on with her? Why was her body behaving like this? Kell looked almost boyish, that easy grin across his mouth, his gray eyes alight with mischief. The transformation was amazing. Breath-stealing. His hips were narrow, and those long legs of his... Leah felt helpless in a feminine kind of way. She’d had very few experiences with men. And they hadn’t been good ones. Did sexual libido build up after a while? Hell, she had no idea and she felt like an idiot of sorts. She could fly into the most dangerous of situations and not bat an eyelash. But let this Kentucky SEAL, with that loose, boneless walk of his, and that warm smile, walk into her life, and she was turning into a sexual puddle of sorts.

“Hungry?”

Oh, that was a pointed question with all kinds of innuendos, Leah thought. “Yes,” she managed, swallowing nervously.

Kell pulled the towel across his shoulder and left for a moment, returning with two MREs in hand. Leah’s breath hitched as he knelt down on one knee near her right side. She could smell the Afghan lye soap on his flesh, his male scent that was sending her body into spasms of heat and hunger. Kell didn’t seem to be at all aware of his effect on her. He quickly opened the MRE, tore open the packets and put the plastic ware on the tray for her. Within a minute he had the main dish cooking in the heating bag.

“There you go,” Kell murmured. “Spaghetti tonight.” He lifted his head. He was in such deep trouble. Leah’s eyes were huge, such a rich, dark green, and Kell saw gold within them. His gaze dropped to her lips, which parted as his eyes took them in. That’s all he needed right now, an erection stirring. Damn. He wanted to kiss Leah. Hell, Ballard had entertained the thought of feeling those lips beneath his mouth from the moment he’d seen her face, when he’d laid her down, unconscious, on this floor.

Kell forced himself to get up and move. If he didn’t, he was going to be in such deep shit he’d never be able to dig himself out. She was an Army warrant and he was enlisted. He couldn’t go there even though his heart and body could give a damn less about military regs or the UCMJ.

Feeling shaky, Leah watched Kell rise. He was at least six feet two inches tall. The breadth of his shoulders, the power of those ropy bicep muscles attested to his superb athletic condition. Mouth dry, she dropped her gaze to the food. Again, she felt heat sweeping up her neck and into her face.

Flustered, she focused on eating. Kell was going to kiss her. She saw it so clearly in his eyes, that for a split second, she couldn’t breathe. What would it have been like to kiss this man? Leah wanted to find out, despite her past. Against her screaming brain and her memory, she wanted to kiss this SEAL! Worst of all, he was enlisted and she was a warrant. She knew better. Officers were to uphold the UCMJ, not disobey it.

Kell sat down with his MRE, leaning against the cave wall. “When I left the cave complex this morning, I called the master chief first thing and gave him an update on your medical condition.” He glanced over at her. “He said a Major Hayden Grant was demanding you be airlifted out right now.” Kell saw her freeze. The flush in her cheeks drained instantly to white. Her mouth compressed, as if in pain. Leah looked like a deer caught in headlights, he supposed. Paralyzed. And then, Kell remembered she’d been screaming a name during the nightmare. The name Hayden. Scowling, Kell put it together, realizing it was probably the same man. But he wasn’t sure. He cleared his throat. “You okay, Leah? You look a little shaken.”

Leah closed her eyes for a moment, wrestling with myriad emotions, mostly fear and, yeah, raw damned terror that was gutting through her right now. But Kell’s deep, drawling voice broke through the barriers that had suddenly imprisoned her. She put the packet aside, having absolutely no appetite. Looking over at him, she realized he was worried—for her. There was another emotion she felt him directing toward her: protectiveness. And she felt it surrounding her right now, invisible, but so very real and incredibly comforting to her. Kell must have seen or sensed her terror. “I, uh— That’s my ex-husband. He’s the commander of the 80th Shadow Squadron that’s stationed at Bagram.” Her voice sounded dry. Scared. Licking her lips, she said, “He’s always like that.”

“Like what?”

“A control freak,” Leah muttered with distaste. And sexually and physically abusive toward her, playing with her mind, her emotions. A shiver coursed through her and Leah forced herself to hold it together.

Kell saw genuine terror in Leah’s eyes. She was easy to read, plus he had his SEAL instincts that never led him wrong and had kept him alive throughout the years. She was frightened. Of her ex? It seemed like it. He watched as her right hand shook as she placed the packet on the MRE bag.

Something repulsive hit him. Ballard couldn’t define it. Didn’t know what it was about, but God help him, he felt it around Leah. Like a dark, ugly shadow. And she wouldn’t look at him.

Leah forced herself to speak. “What was the decision?” The last place she wanted to go was Bagram, where she’d have Hayden in her face, making her life utterly miserable.

“Master Chief told him no,” Kell offered. “I was going to add that the CIA is picking up a lot of radio and cell-phone chatter around the border. When that happens, it means a big push by our enemy is coming shortly. And right now, every forward operating base is on high alert. We’ve got air assets piling in to be used and every SEAL is out in teams at choke points, working with the Rangers and Delta Force operators. It’s a big assault that’s coming our way.”

He held her shattered-looking gaze. More gently, Kell added, “You’re safer here with me for now, Leah. I know this isn’t great digs and I’m sure you’re looking forward to a hot shower and hot food...” And he was going to miss her when she left. All day, he’d been looking forward to coming home tonight, seeing her here. Talking with her. Getting to know her. Kell couldn’t ever recall a woman making him feel like this. It was Leah, he realized. There was a special connection between them. Kell had felt it from the outset. Now, it was stronger, tighter, more palpable than ever. He could feel it and he knew Leah did, too.

“I’d rather stay here, Kell, if I have any say in it.”

“You have every right to have a say in your rescue. The master chief asked me what I thought you’d want to do and I took a risk and said you’d rather stay with me until we can get a safe opening to get you out of here.” His mouth crooked. “Glad I made the right call.”

Relief flooded through her. “You did.” And then Leah shook her head. “Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself.” She said it in jest, but Kell had shown repeatedly he could read her, see right through her, ask the right question or have the correct observations about her.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Kell urged her in a quiet tone.

“No. I’m...not hungry.”

“Because you’re upset?”

“Yes.” She shouldn’t bare her soul to Kell, but dammit, she felt like doing exactly that. He was a good listener. But she was afraid Kell would judge her if she told him the sordid story of her marriage to Hayden Grant. “I’m just not feeling good,” she muttered, setting the MRE aside.

“What can I do to help?”

Leah sat without reacting, but inwardly, her heart just somersaulted and her pulse began to race. Her lower body went hot and dammit, she felt the dampness between her thighs. Again. Pushing her fingers through her dirty hair, she growled, “Nothing.”

Kell got it. Another land mine. Only this time, it had a name attached to it: Major Hayden Grant. He didn’t know the Army officer, having little interface with the 80th except to hitch a ride on one of their MH-47 helicopters.

He finished his MRE and stood up. He had an idea, maybe something that could divert Leah’s attention to something a little more positive. He walked over and picked up her uneaten MRE. She was pale, agitation in her eyes. Kell could feel the terror around her, even though she didn’t say anything.

Going to the other cave, he picked up a large aluminum bowl, found some unscented shampoo he kept for whenever he got a chance to wash up on a sniping mission, and brought it back to the other cave. Going over to the pool, he got fresh, cold water by holding the huge bowl over the drips coming off from the rocks above.

Leah frowned as he brought the bowl of water over and set it nearby. “What’s that for?” She met his gray eyes and felt some of her terror dissolve. That powerful sense of protection wrapped around her with just Ballard’s kind gaze.

“I think you’ll feel better if you can at least get your hair washed.” Kell set up the other sleeping bag, rolling it out and putting his ruck where a pillow would have been.

“But...I can’t wash my hair,” Leah said, longing badly to get the dirt off her scalp, get rid of the dried blood so she’d stop smelling it. “I only have one hand.”

“I’ll do the washing,” Kell told her. Holding out his hand, he said, “Come on, I have to move you over here. I want you to lie down on your back and let your head hang over the end of my ruck.”

Leah sat there, stunned. He was serious. Her heart opened, catching her off guard. “But—”

“When my grandma Inez was alive, I used to wash her hair once a week. I was a kid, only thirteen, but I usually did a pretty good job. She was happy with my efforts and my mother was relieved I didn’t dump the water all over her bed.” Kell gave a bashful grin. “I’m not a hairdresser, but I am pretty good at washing a woman’s hair. Want to give it a whirl? Live dangerously?”

Leah stared at his long fingers, seeing the calluses on them, the width of his palm, the inherent strength of him as a man. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. Fingers warm and strong around hers, Kell easily lifted her to her feet. Dizziness struck Leah big-time and she felt herself pitching forward.

“I got you,” Kell rasped, placing his arm around her waist and holding her upright. “A little walking is going to be good for you, anyway. It will force your brain to get back to normal quicker.”

Leah’s mouth went dry. She was plastered against Kell’s body, felt the hardness of his muscles, his stability and strength. Her heart was tripping all over itself. Overwhelmed with too much going on, she simply surrendered to Kell and let him slowly guide her over to the other sleeping bag.

He handled her as if she were a feather in his arms and she knew she wasn’t. The man’s strength was hidden, but she felt it now as he lowered her to the floor.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Leah wanted to cry. The tears came out of nowhere. Kell was being incredibly gentle with her. As if she were a rare vase that might shatter between his hands if he wasn’t careful enough with her. Compared to Hayden’s heavy-handedness, his need to hurt her, make her scream for mercy, Kell was the exact opposite.

Somehow, Leah forced back the tears as Kell guided her shoulders onto the ruck, making sure she was comfortable. The difference was pulverizing. Eye-opening.

CHAPTER FOUR

“THIS IS VERY cold water,” Kell warned her, settling the bowl between his knees and sliding his fingers through Leah’s thick, tangled hair.

“It’s okay. I’m just so glad you’re going to get the blood out of my hair. The smell is terrible.” Leah bit back a gasp over the pleasure of his fingers sifting through her strands. It was sensual. Heat scattered from her scalp, down to her breasts, tightening them and then flowing to build in her lower body, making it clench and grow needy. She closed her eyes, dragging in a deep, unsteady breath.

“I understand,” Kell soothed. Cupping his hand, he drizzled the water across her scalp. With his other hand, he supported her neck and the back of head, feeling the tension in her.

As he worked with her hair and scalp, Leah gradually began to relax and surrender to him. It was such an intimate act to Kell. She trusted him with herself. Another man might have tried something stupid, to take advantage of her in such a compromised position. He would never do that to any woman. Instead, Kell took pleasure in simply washing Leah’s hair, cleansing it of the blood and matted, muddy areas. Knowing how a woman always wanted her hair clean, it was a small gift that he could give to Leah. And soon, her eyes closed and she fully relaxed, her soft lips parting.

Smiling to himself, Kell knew the luxury of having one’s hair washed because his grandmother used to lie there and sigh with pleasure, too. Leah didn’t, but that was all right. He could see all the tension dissolving from her face and the length of her body.

“I’m afraid my shampoo has no smell to it,” Kell told her, opening the bottle. “Out here when I’m hunting, the Taliban can pick up on a foreign odor and know there’s an enemy nearby. I learned a long time ago to get lye soap that has no scent to it.”

“Wise choice.” Leah sighed, feeling his fingers gently begin to massage her scalp. He had removed the dressing from her head earlier and he was very gentle and very careful around the stitched wound. Still, just to get the blood out of her hair, Leah was utterly grateful for his thoughtfulness. “I’ve never had a man wash my hair before,” she admitted, her voice sounding breathless even to her.

“Well, if this doesn’t go right, don’t blame the next male hairdresser you get.” He laughed.

“No...you’re doing...wonderfully. It feels so good,” Leah whispered, feeling the tingles his fingers were creating by lightly massaging her scalp. Leah had no idea how much tension she’d been holding until it disappeared beneath his seductive fingers.

“Oh, good, then you’re not going to fire me.” Kell grinned, rinsing the soap from her sleek, gleaming strands. He heard Leah laugh, his hand cupping and supporting the back of her head. Her skin felt like soft, warm velvet to him. Feeling a bit like a thief, Kell enjoyed touching Leah. He felt good making her laugh. It was better than seeing stark terror lurking in her eyes. Who had scared her so much that she reacted with such a deep, automatic fear?

Once her hair was rinsed free of the soap, he put the bowl aside. Kell held her head up and awkwardly placed a towel around the dripping strands of her hair. “Okay, I’m going to get you up into a sitting position. You ready?”

Leah was sorry it was over. “Yes.” She felt the towel around her head and held it in place with her right hand. Kell gently eased her into a sitting position and then came around to her right side.

“Here, let me? Tough to dry hair with one hand.” Kell took the towel and carefully dried her long, thick hair. Taking a look at the gash on her skull, he said, “The cut is healing nicely. I think we’ll let it air-dry tonight. I’ll put some antibiotic ointment on it and that’s all it should need.”

“I have a medic and a hairdresser all wrapped up in one,” Leah teased. “That feels dry enough, Kell, thank you.” She wanted his hands on her, but at some point the surging pleasure rippling through her would stop. Kell was so damn personable. He slid inside her heavy, protective walls as though they’d never existed.

Kell stood and pulled out a comb from his pocket. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to her. Wanting to sit and watch her, he forced himself to move away from Leah. Watching her was a sensual pleasure all its own in his world. He emptied the water into a channel leaving the pool and hung the wet towel and washcloth in the other cave on some rocks to dry. When he ambled back in, he smiled. Leah had finished combing her hair. The ends were damp and slightly curled across her shoulders.

“Now, don’t you feel better?”

Handing him the comb, Leah admitted softly, “I feel a million times better. Thanks so much, Kell.” And she wished she could do something to repay him for his generosity. She watched as he sat down against the wall after moving his sleeping bag over to it.

“My grandma, who had bad arthritis in her hands, would always bake me chocolate-chip cookies as a thank-you for washing her hair weekly.” Kell smiled fondly, remembering those good times.

“I’m afraid I’m a nonstarter in a kitchen,” Leah admitted.

“Tell you what. Next time we happen to both be at Bravo, you can buy me a beer over at the canteen. Fair enough?” He caught her gaze. She looked infinitely better. The tension was gone. So was the terror. Instead, Kell saw her green eyes radiant with warmth. Was that warmth for him? He could feel it, but didn’t try to interpret what it meant. That would get him into dangerous quicksand real fast.

“That’s a deal,” Leah promised, her voice passionate. “I need to thank you for everything you’re doing for me, Kell. I really appreciate it.”

“No need to pay me back,” he murmured. “My ma always taught me you treat others like you would like to be treated. It’s been the rule I’ve lived my life by.”

“Tell me about yourself. You said your parents moved from Alabama to Kentucky. How did you become a SEAL?”

“The short version,” he said, pushing his long legs out in front of him. “My pa, who is a dairy farmer, was in the Army for four years. He thought it was good I do my duty to my country, so I joined the Navy. I’d heard about the SEALs and applied. I got in, managed to survive BUD/S, and here I am.”

“You didn’t want to be a farmer?”

“No. I’m a rolling stone.” Kell chuckled. “I liked being outdoors, I liked challenges and I was a pretty active kid. I liked what the SEALs offered me. I believed I could make a difference in the world, take out the bad guys so the good men and women could live.”

“You don’t strike me as being black-and-white,” Leah murmured. “You’re a good observer of the human condition. That encompasses a lot of gray areas.”

Shrugging, Kell said, “I’m aware of the gray areas. But when it comes to a bad guy who’s going to kill one of my brothers, or anyone on our side who is fighting over here, I’m very clear about pulling the trigger. I don’t enjoy it, but I know someone has to do it. Does that make more sense?” Ballard absorbed her thoughtful expression. Shadow pilots were aggressive in combat, too. They didn’t just drop black ops men off from a helo. They were often in direct combat protecting men on the ground, too.

“Makes sense to me,” Leah agreed. She moved her fingers through her clean hair. It felt like she’d lost a pound of dried blood, sweat and dirt out of the strands. “I have a tough time seeing you in the role of a hunter-sniper.”

“Oh, you met the nice side of me is all,” he said, chuckling. “I’m not out there offering to wash a Taliban soldier’s hair, believe me.”

Leah laughed with him. “Point taken.”

“You have any brothers or sisters?” Kell asked. Instantly, he saw he’d just stepped on another land mine with her. Damn. If she’d had a miserable marriage, which is what he surmised by her reaction earlier, and an unhappy childhood, it was no wonder she was so closed up. Kell could feel her hiding; had sensed it all along.

“Yes,” she said, her voice low. “Evan was my older brother by one year.” Leah tensed and then figured to hell with it. “When I was eight, Evan was nine. My father was on assignment in Rhode Island and when winter came, we’d go for walks. One morning, after a heavy snow, Spike, our dog, went running out into a field where we were walking. He fell through the ice and into a frozen pond.” The corners of her mouth drew in. “Evan went to rescue him and so did I.” She looked up and held Kell’s somber gaze. “We didn’t realize the ice would break. Evan fell in. And then I did, too. The dog managed to climb up my back and got to thicker ice. I tried to rescue Evan, but he disappeared below the water and I was so cold I could barely move. Somehow, I pulled myself up on the ice. About that time, my father found us.”

“I’m sorry,” Kell offered. Was that why she looked so haunted? “Did you blame yourself for not rescuing Evan?”

Giving him a dark look, Leah nodded. “My parents were grief-stricken. A month afterward, my mother had a heart attack and died. I’m sure Evan’s death triggered it. My father went into deep shock.”

“So you were a little eight-year-old girl who was grieving for two losses, then.”

Touched by his awareness, Leah said heavily, “I was devastated.”

“Was your father able to comfort you?”

Shaking her head, Leah said, “No.” And then, “I sort of became a shadow in his life until I was about sixteen. He loved my mother so very much. Looking back on it, I now realize that his love for her was so powerful, so real, that her getting ripped out of his life like that devastated him in ways I can’t even understand to this day.”

Kell wanted to go over and sit down and hold her. He heard the quiet pain in Leah’s low voice, saw the haunted look back in her expression. “But who took care of you?”

“No one, I guess. My father was a major in the Army, and he was up for light colonel. His life revolved around the Shadow Squadron.” Not me. Never me.

Rubbing his jaw, Kell asked, “Did he ever remarry?”

“No.” Leah looked up, giving him a sad smile. “I got to see what head over heels in love really meant. My father was utterly devoted to my mother. They lived a love I’ve never seen since.” She opened her hands and gave a strained laugh. “I remember as a kid looking at the love my father had for my mother, wishing someday I’d meet someone who felt like that. Someone who thought I was the most beautiful person in the world. Someone who wanted to love me, care for me and support me like my dad supported my mom.”

And it didn’t happen, Kell thought, knowing what little he did about her marriage. “My ma and pa are like that,” he offered. “Pa thinks the world revolves around Ma. Still does to this day. They’re in their early sixties and they’re completely devoted to each other. And to us. They spread their love around.”

“You’re lucky,” Leah said, feeling a bit jealous. “My father...well...he had great plans for Evan and none for me.”

“Ah, the favored-son routine?”

“You could say.”

“How did that change your relationship with your father after Evan died?”

“He basically ignored me until I was sixteen. And then, one day, he told me to get into a helicopter and I did. He started teaching me how to fly. I found I loved it. The freedom...”

“And then you went to college?”

“For two years. I wanted a four-year degree in electrical engineering, but I quit after two years. I was always fascinated with how things worked. Not exactly a girlie girl growing up.”

“Could have fooled me,” Kell said. “You are one heck of a good-looking woman even if you’re forced into wearing that bulky flight suit.”

His compliment was sincere and Leah absorbed it. “Thanks...kind of hard to be very feminine out here in the badlands.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” he said, smiling a little. “You give that flight suit a whole new, better, meaning.” He saw her blush and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her shyness bothered him. Again, Kell was seeing her inability to deal with a sincere male-to-female compliment. He wasn’t flirting with her. He was being honest. She didn’t know the difference.

“I’m pretty much focused on my career” was all Leah could manage. There was no question Kell was interested in her. Leah felt the same toward him, but didn’t dare let him know it. There was just no room in her life, with her career as a warrant officer, to allow a potential relationship to work. She looked over. “Are you married, Kell? Have a bunch of children?” Because looking at him, he looked like the father type.

“Was,” Kell admitted. “I met Addison, who was a criminal-defense lawyer, in San Diego. Married at twenty-three and divorced at twenty-seven. She couldn’t take my long deployments, and I didn’t want children while I was in the SEALs. I’d never be home often enough to be a father to them. My training and deployments kept me away from home so much of the time. I did want children, but I wanted to be a father who was home and there for them, like my pa was for us.”

“You’ll make a wonderful father someday,” Leah said. Mentally she was comparing her father to Kell. There was a Grand Canyon of difference between the two men. Her father was cold, bottled up, frozen in time and bitter. Kell was warm, kind and caring. He was able to show his feelings.

Leah wondered if things would have been different between her father and herself if her mother hadn’t suddenly died. She had felt abandoned and alone after her mother was gone. She cried for months, every night, sobbing into her pillow, missing Evan and her. Her father was unable to care for her. He couldn’t even care for himself, as crippled as he’d been by the multiple deaths.

“I have a good role model,” Kell admitted. “My pa. I have two younger brothers, Tyler and Cody, and we used to have so much fun with him. He taught us how to hunt, fish and care for the land. The three of us grew up milking dairy cows.”

“You’ve got a good work ethic,” Leah said, trying to imagine Kell when he was younger. She’d bet he was the brother who played humorous jokes on others. Not mean ones, but funny ones, because he was so laid-back and easygoing.

“We all worked hard,” Kell agreed, smiling fondly, remembering those days, “but we also played hard.”

“What sports?”

“I went into track and field. Ty and Cody went into football.”

“You look like a quarterback to me.”

“Nah, my two younger brothers were good at it. I wasn’t. I’m six-two and they’re both six-four and outweigh me by thirty pounds. I didn’t see any sense in getting the shinola kicked out of me on the football field. Running was something I was very good at. It came naturally.”

“You’ve got long legs,” Leah agreed. She visualized him running and imagined he would have looked to her like a cheetah with swift, boneless grace.

“Did you ever go into sports?”

“No. I found my love, my passion, when I was sixteen. I loved flying. I still do.”

“What does it give you?” Kell wondered. He looked forward to talking with Leah. She was intelligent, well grounded in reality and funny.

“I guess...my freedom. When I’m flying, I’m above all the crap that I carry around with me. Up there—” she pointed toward the ceiling of the cave “—I’m in the arms of the sky.”

“Maybe an invisible, loving mother of sorts?”

She stared at Kell for a long moment. He was extremely intelligent, able to put seemingly disparate pieces together and make them fit like a completed puzzle. “I never thought of that way, but yes. I always feel protected up there, guarded, maybe.” She’d just walked away from a helo crash that should have killed her. Kell had been her guardian angel this time around.

“Without a mother to hold you,” Kell said, “you probably didn’t get a lot of that maternal nurturing we all need as kids growing up.”

“I’ve thought about that, too. Maybe that’s why I love going out into the Afghan villages, bringing clothing and shoes to the kids. I work with a local charity that is run by a husband-and-wife team, Emma and Khalid Shaheen. Both were Apache pilots and then Emma got kidnapped by the Taliban. She was injured and received nerve damage to her left hand. The Army doesn’t let you fly if you don’t have feeling in all ten fingers. But when Emma married Khalid, she got to fly his charity’s helicopter, a CH-47. A year ago, when my squadron was at Bagram, I took my off days and flew with Emma.”

“You like kids?”

“Just a little.” Leah smiled, tipping her head back against the wall. “Before we lost Evan, I loved taking care of him. I spoiled him rotten.” She laughed softly, a warm, good feeling flowing through her. “Kids should be spoiled with love.”

“Evan will always own a piece of your heart.”

“One of the good parts,” Leah agreed quietly. “The rest of my heart feels like it’s been cut up and buried.”

“Because of your marriage?” Kell knew he was getting into dangerous territory, but he wanted to understand her ex-husband. He saw her give him a grim look and her lips thinned as if she was weighing whether to say anything or not.

“Let’s just say I had lousy taste when it came to choosing a husband.”

Kell looked at his watch. “Time to go to bed.” It was a piece of information about Hayden Grant. Maybe, in time, Leah would trust him with the rest of the story, but he wouldn’t push her. As a sniper, he could look at a lawn and tell which blades of grass had been moved by an animal or a human. In the same way, Leah was giving him tiny signs and in his mind he was putting them together. Eventually, a pattern would emerge and he’d see the whole picture. He wanted to know because he had feelings for Leah. No one was more surprised than Kell. He wasn’t looking for a woman. Sex with the right woman? Yes. But as he pushed off his boots and got comfortable, he wouldn’t lie to himself. His heart was involved in this equation. What was he going to do?

As he made sure Leah was settled in for the night before turning off the light, Ballard sensed, or maybe intuited, she liked him just as much. They were two planets on a collision course with one another that could never have a happy ending.

* * *

THE NIGHTMARE STARTED insidiously for Leah. She and Hayden were camping out in the hills of Georgia; something he liked to do. It was August, the humidity high, the mosquitoes pestering her nonstop. Hayden was in a bad mood. Her father had been busy reviewing the fitness reports for every officer. Hayden was a captain and he wanted early major in rank. He was worried her father wouldn’t give him the marks he needed to make that early rank. He was busy building a fire, throwing heavier limbs on it, the smoke billowing up through the dense pine forest surrounding them.

“You need to talk to your father,” he growled. “I need a perfect score on this next fitness report.”

Leah’s hands shook as she began unpacking the food from the cardboard box sitting in the rear of their SUV. “If I say anything, Hayden, he’ll suspect you put me up to it. You know that.”

She hated these conversations. Assessments came every six months, and officers and enlisted persons alike were given a score. Those that had the highest grades would automatically be put up for early-promotion consideration. This was the first time Hayden could be put up for it by her father, the squadron commander.

“You have to say something,” he ground out, standing, wiping his hands off on his jeans. He glared at her. “Figure out a diplomatic way, Leah, but get it done, dammit!”

She winced as he cursed. Hayden was building into one of his rages and it scared her to death. She dropped the bread on the ground, then quickly picked it up. Breathing unevenly, her mind awash with fear of what he might do, she said, “I’ll talk to him.”

He walked over and stood beside her. He was six feet tall. She was five feet seven inches tall. Staring down at her, he jerked her hair back, hard. “Monday. When we get back. Take him to lunch.”

“Ow!” Leah cried, her scalp radiating pain. Her hand had gone up to the side of her head. “Stop hurting me, Hayden! You don’t have to worry, I’ll talk to my father.”

* * *

“LEAH! WAKE UP!” Kell dodged her fist and it landed hard against his chest, a lot of power behind her swing. She’d screamed and scared the hell out of him, jerking him out of his sleep. Worse, if there were Taliban nearby, they’d have heard it.

Gripping her arm, Ballard gave her a small shake. “Leah! Wake up. It’s just a dream!” He saw her face twisted and contorted, her mouth opened to scream again. What the hell kind of nightmares was she having to make her twist and buck against him? He had knelt down, dodging her flailing fist. It was lucky for him her other arm was in a sling or he’d have been in trouble.

“Sugar. Come on. It’s Kell. You’re safe. No one is attacking you...”

Kell’s voice broke through her nightmare and Leah snapped awake. Her eyes widened enormously as she sucked in ragged gasps of air. Kell’s darkly shadowed face was so close. His eyes narrowed, filled with urgent concern. She felt his one hand on her shoulders, the other carefully holding her right wrist. With a groan, she pushed him away. He instantly released her.

Sweaty, shaking, Leah pushed herself up into a sitting position. Kell sat back on his heels, guardedly watching her.

Rubbing her face, her hands trembling, Leah muttered, “I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to hit you...” She couldn’t tear Hayden’s glare out of her mind, the one from after she’d struck him in the face. That time, she wasn’t raped. How many times had he done it to her over the years? She’d lost count.

“Do you want some water?” Kell asked her quietly, watching her hide her face behind her trembling hand. He could feel she was embarrassed and he wanted to give her some room.

“P-please.”

“Be right back.” He got up and walked over to his ruck near his sleeping bag.

She couldn’t cry! She had stopped crying years ago. No help had ever come. Leah had felt something precious break inside her soul once she realized there was no way out of that nightmare marriage to Hayden. Scrubbing her face, Leah forced all the tears deep down inside herself.

Kell knelt at her side, opening the bottle. “Here,” he offered her quietly, holding it out toward her.

Leah slid her shaking hand around it and drank deeply. Her throat hurt. She couldn’t look at Kell. She was too ashamed. Finally, she stopped drinking and gripped the bottle in her lap, hands white-knuckled. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Kell moved his hand lightly across her hair. “Do you have these nightmares often?” He was thinking maybe the crash was resurrecting a lot of ugly events in her life, replaying them now, one after another. He saw the agony in her eyes as she looked over at him.

“Not like this,” Leah quavered. “Maybe once a month.” Rubbing her aching brow, she tried to draw in a deep breath. Her heart was skipping so hard, she felt like she might have a heart attack.

Resting his hand on her right shoulder, Kell said, “It’s probably because of the crash. You could have died in it. That sort of thing can raise all kinds of monsters we hide from ourselves.”

“Monster is the right word,” Leah rasped unsteadily. She gave him an apologetic look. “You need your sleep, Kell. You’re working twelve hours or more as a sniper every day.” She swallowed hard. “Maybe I should move my bed into the other cave. At least you’ll get some undisturbed sleep that way.”

“That’s not happening.” He saw her eyes turn sad. Kell sensed such deep grief within her, but he couldn’t plumb it with just his senses. Whatever it was, it was tragic. He wanted to hold Leah but he could tell she was tense, as if struggling to contain all those runaway terrors. She was trying to stuff them way back down into herself once again. Kell wasn’t going to force her into his arms. If she didn’t come of her own volition, he couldn’t help. Leah didn’t know that, though. “I wake up so many times a night,” he told her sincerely, catching her downcast eyes. “SEALs don’t sleep like regular folks. We catnap for five, maybe ten minutes, and then we snap fully awake. And then, we go back into a catnapping cycle again.” He gave her a small smile meant to make her feel better. “No harm, no foul. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered brokenly, feeling as if she were falling apart.

“Why don’t you lie down? I’ll get the blanket and cover you up with it.”

Leah nodded and whispered her thanks, lying on her right side. She felt him cover her with it, gently tucking it in around her hunched shoulders like a mother might for a child. Shutting her eyes tightly, biting back a sob, she realized Kell’s touch was stunningly different from Hayden’s. She’d been such a coward. Looking back on that three-year marriage, Leah knew she should have gone to her father. But even now, she wasn’t sure he’d believe her. He still thought of Hayden as the son he’d lost, Leah thought bitterly. Hayden replaced Evan in her father’s world. And Hayden wanted to show him he could one day replace him as commander when he retired.

She heard Kell lie down, the cave going to blackness once more as he turned off the small penlight. The darkness hid her and maybe that was a good thing. Leah figured Kell telling her that Hayden had demanded her immediate return had probably brought up their sordid past. Pushing her face into the scratchy wool blanket, she was so glad Kell had told him no. Leah never wanted to see Hayden again face-to-face. She wasn’t sure what she’d do, there was so much rage built up inside of her from three years of being beaten and raped by him.

She had five more days, possibly, before they had to leave this cave. Hayden couldn’t hang around Bravo forever; he had a squadron to run at Bagram.

Leah prayed he wouldn’t be there once they were picked up by helicopter. She wanted to leave her past behind her.

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