A familiar, cold knot of disappointment tightened in her stomach. She tamped it down, shoving the feeling aside with the discipline of years spent in the Navy. People left. It was what they did. She dressed for PT and went out for her early morning run, the rhythmic pounding of her feet on the ground a futile attempt to outrun the memory of his touch.
When she got back, he was waiting for her, leaning against the wall outside her quarters. He was showered, holding a cup of coffee, and looking both tantalizingly handsome and genuinely apologetic.
“Peace offering?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
“No,” he said, his gaze intense. “I’ve had no peace since last night.” He looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. “I left not because I didn’t want to stay. You yanks all get up so damn early, and I didn’t want to get caught leaving your room, risking exposing your privacy to the whole base.”
She stepped closer, careful not to touch him just yet. “You are so sweet. Thank you.”
He met her eyes again, a flicker of hope in their depths. “Maybe, before you leave, when you have time, we could have dinner at my place. That something you’d be interested in?”
“Yes,” she said, a genuine smile finally breaking through. “That sounds wonderful.”
He nodded, relieved. He bent down, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “You look beautiful, by the way.” Then he walked off with a smile and a twinkle in those stunning blue eyes, leaving her holding a cup of coffee and feeling a whole lot lighter than she had just ten minutes before.
That feeling didn’t last once she was back at her station. The lingering warmth from Malcolm’s smile was quickly extinguished by the cold, hard reality of her console. A red icon blinked insistently, a digital tombstone marking the location of one of her drones. It had malfunctioned during the chaos of the chase, lost somewhere in the vast, unforgiving field. More importantly, all the valuable footage from the final moments of the pursuit was stored on its hard drive.
She picked up the secure phone and pressed in the number she’d memorized. It rang twice before a crisp, professional voice answered.
“Superintendent Corrant.”
“Mr. Corrant. Sorry to bother you, sir,” she began, her tone all business. “This is Petty Officer Locklear with the joint t ask force. I’m requesting permission to come out to the field and search for one of my downed drones. We wouldn’t want to leave behind sensitive equipment. I have the coordinates of where it went down. I would like to log and file away the footage and secure the hardware.”
There was a brief pause on the other end. “Of course, Petty Officer. I’ll leave word with the Mountie contingent to allow you to pass. Good hunting.”
“Thank you, sir.” She hung up. But even as the cold, familiar mantle of duty settled over her shoulders, a flicker of warmth remained. The thought of Malcolm surfaced, unbidden and welcome. She would make the best of their dinner, she decided. She wouldn't let the mission, the grief, or the ever-present danger consume this one small, bright spot. For one evening, she would just be Ayla, having dinner with a man whose touch had made her feel alive again. The promise of it was a small anchor in the rising tide of her responsibilities. With a final, steadying breath, she realized once she left here, she’d soon be back in isolation mode, her focus narrowing to the screen, the mission, and the hunt.
44
The first light of dawn was just beginning to filter through the blinds of Blair’s cabin, casting soft stripes across the rumpled sheets. The air was cool and still, carrying the earthy scent of pine from the woods outside. The mattress dipped as Breakneck moved, and she smiled at the kiss he pressed to her cheek, his lips warm against her sleep-cooled skin.
“Go back to sleep, beautiful. PT first, then breakfast.”
She cracked one eye open, the world a hazy blur of gold and shadow. “You’re crazy. Aren’t you still recovering from yesterday?”
He slapped his flat, rippling abs, the sound a soft thud in the quiet room. “It’s not a choice. Ice and the guys are PTing right now, and if I slack, believe me, he will know it.”
She grunted, the pull of sleep too strong to argue, and let her eyes drift closed. The next thing she knew, the rich aroma of coffee and scrambled eggs drifted to her nose, a siren call of comfort and domesticity. She opened her eyes to see him standing at the foot of the bed, a tray in his hands. He’d pulled on a pair of sweats, and his bare chest was a masterpiece of hard muscle and fading bruises. He was watching her sleep, a look of such focused, domestic care on his face that it made her heart ache. The intensity in his gaze was a stark, beautiful contrast to the gentle morning ritual.
“Stalker much?” she said, her voice a husky, snarky murmur, but all she could feel was a sweet, liquid heat, thinking about how accessible he’d been last night and how much she loved it. She wanted the opportunity to jump him in the middle of the night and wake up to his handsome face in the morning.
He huffed out a laugh, a low, warm sound. “How about I don’t mention all those times you stared at me, and let’s not bring up the way you ogled my gym photos. I know you want to see me in tights, you creepy ballerina.”
“My goal is not to get you into clothing, my muscly babe,” she shot at him, gesturing him closer with a wry smile on her mouth.
He closed his eyes and laughed, a genuine, deep rumble that she felt in her own chest. “Now who’s incorrigible?”
“Stop stalling and get your sweet ass over here with that food.”
He chuckled and moved toward the bed, but before he could set the tray down, the shrill ring of her phone on the nightstand shattered the quiet. The sound was an intrusion, a jarring reminder of the world outside their bubble. Her smile vanished, her body already shifting into operational mode.
She was moving before she was fully awake, snatching the phone. “Brown.”
“Blair, it’s Tyler.”
She sat up straighter, the sheet pooling around her waist as she processed his tone. “What’s up, Tyler?”
“Darrow wants you in his office in forty-five minutes.”
