Down Range

He winced.

Served him right. Would Jake ever grow up? He was twenty-nine, same age as her. And he had the personal irresponsibility of a fifteen-year-old hormone-driven teenager. Relationships meant nothing to him. She’d meant nothing to him outside of the bed. Even if Jake hadn’t grown up, Morgan had.

Holding up his hands, he rasped, “Look, that was a long time ago. I’ve changed.” He smarted beneath her accusations. Morgan didn’t know he’d married to settle down to raise a family.

“Really?” The word came out filled with derision.

“I’m waving a white flag. Can I surrender and we talk about the mission?” It was then Jake began to understand the depth of hurt he’d caused Morgan in the past. She couldn’t hide anything from him, no matter how hard she tried. Running his fingers through his short hair in frustration, Jake sat back, staring at her.

“A SEAL surrendering.” Morgan smiled a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Jake, you always say the right thing at the right time. The problem is, it doesn’t stick for long. You’re like the Velcro you use on your gear. Sticks when you want it to, rip if off when you no longer need it.”

“I’ve changed, Morgan.”

She heard an edge to his voice, his eyes going a slate-gray. That color meant he was emotionally upset about something. Her, most likely. Morgan took the last bite of the delicious hamburger and wiped her fingers on a nearby paper napkin. “You haven’t changed since I met you at Annapolis, Jake.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, I guess you’re going to have to find out differently on this op, then.” He paused for a moment. “Look, I don’t even know anything other than you’re a sniper. General Stevenson seems to think you’re very good at it.” He searched her hooded eyes. “Can we at least talk about that?”

“Sure,” she said, wadding up the napkin and dropping it on her plate. “Since becoming a qualified sniper, I’ve been out nine months out of every year with either SEAL or Special Forces teams in Afghanistan. I would be assigned when a team lost one of their two snipers and would take over that position as a straphanger.”

“You asked to go along? I’m trying to understand how this top secret Operation Shadow Warriors works.”

She sat back, arms across her chest. “I was asked to volunteer for it the second year I was assistant commanding officer of a Marine Corps company in Kandahar.”

Surprised, Jake’s brows rose. “You’d always wanted to fill a billet in a combat company.”

“Yes, and I got my wish.” Morgan hitched a shoulder. “In part, it was because I had four years of Pashtun language under my belt. My CO, Captain Davis, was desperate for anyone other than an Afghan terp, interpreter, he had to use to speak to the elders. He was trying to make serious headway with a number of villages, and he felt the interpreter was not giving him accurate info.”

“So, your minor in linguistics landed you in Kandahar?” he said, almost to himself.

“Yes. And when Davis found out I was a damn good executive officer for the company, he was a happy man. He gave me more and more responsibility. By the end of my first year I was running missions with the recon Marines. I’d rather be out in the field than in a stuffy tent at a hundred and ten degrees. At least outside, you can breathe in fresh, hot air instead.”

He smiled a little, nodding. “You always wanted combat.”

“I wanted a shot at what I knew I’d be good at, that’s all.”

“You must have been.”

“Davis gave me rave reports for my leadership ability. I had three months left in my second tour when I was invited to volunteer for Operation Shadow Warriors.”

“So, what does this operation do?”

“It takes volunteer officer or enlisted women who want to be in combat and they’re trained up for it. Then a woman is rotated into a SOF team, special operations forces.”

He shook his head. “You were with SEAL teams? I never heard anything about it.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to, Ramsey. It was, after all, top secret. The men in that platoon signed their lives away legally on paper to the Pentagon, never to breathe a word of it.”

“Well, it’s sure as hell worked.” He couldn’t help but look at her left hand. No wedding ring, though he didn’t expect to see one. People in combat never wore jewelry. It could get hung up on a rifle and screw things up in a damned hurry. This didn’t mean she wasn’t married. He couldn’t ask. Morgan was prickly with him anyway, and he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t deserve much respect for what he’d done to her. He’d been a first-class bastard. But damn, she was hotheaded, and when she got wound up, he felt overwhelmed by her intense, focused anger at him.

Morgan allowed her arms to drop to her sides. “My gear is in Hawaii, at the Army barracks. I want to use my sniper rifle on this mission.”

Jake nodded. In a sniper op, there was one sniper rifle shared by both snipers. The other team member always had another weapon on him—or her, in this case—to protect the sniper and play rearguard action if they were discovered. “Okay. I’ll take an M-4 with a grenade launcher on it with me.”

“Good choice. Grenades come in handy upon occasion.”

“Oh? You found that out?”

She grinned wickedly. “Yeah, but that’s a story for another day. I’ve got a SIG Sauer 9 mm pistol. I’m assuming you’re bringing yours along, too?”

His mouth dropped open, and just as quickly, he snapped it shut. “How in the hell did you get your hands on a SIG?” It was a special German pistol made only for active-duty SEALs. He saw her grow sad for a moment.

“It was a gift,” Morgan admitted in a voice riddled with barely held emotions. “The Commander in charge of the SEAL squadron approved the gift to be given to me. He said I’d earned it even though I wasn’t a SEAL.” Her voice dropped, a hint of sadness in it. “He said I was a SEAL by proxy.”

“That’s—” Jake struggled for words “—a hell of a gift.”

“It saved my life a few times. Every time it does, I write to the Commander and thank him all over again. He gets a chuckle out of it.”

Morgan had always wanted to head into danger. It was in her genes. Now, from what she was saying, and Jake did believe her, she was in combat most of the time. “Look, let’s get over to Andrews. I’ve got my gear in the Jeep, and I need to stow it on that Herky Jerky, a C-130, we’re taking at 1100.”

Nodding, Morgan pushed the chair away and stood. “I’m going back to the hotel and jumping in my SEAL work uniform and boots. I’ll meet you at Andrews at noon.”

“Sounds good,” Jake said, standing there, feeling a bit overwhelmed. She was a woman. And she carried a SIG. And she was working in SEAL teams! Damn, what was the world coming to?

Picking up his cover, he left the cafeteria. No doubt, a lot had happened to Morgan, and she was closedmouthed about it. If she was going to be his sniper partner, he needed to know a hell of a lot more, because right now, he didn’t trust her with his back in a firefight.

Morgan had taken the opportunity to sleep, no matter how noisy and loud the aircraft around her was. She’d hung up her hammock in the rear of the C-130 and dozed off. By the time they landed in Honolulu, Hawaii, it was late afternoon because of time-zone changes.

Jake had slept a lot but had also worked on his Toughbook laptop, which every SEAL officer carried with him. When Morgan awoke, she figured he was probably trying to check up on her, find out what she was made of. Jake had such little belief a woman could be strong, resourceful or half as smart as he was.

As they walked into the terminal and requisitioned a military vehicle to drive to the BOQ, he seemed deep in thought.

They located the dark olive-green car in the black asphalt parking lot; Morgan breathed in the warm, moist air. “I love Hawaii. It’s one of my favorite places on earth.”

Jake smiled a little, responding to her unexpected spontaneity. This was the Morgan he knew from his Annapolis days, and he wanted to see more of that side to her. But would she reveal herself? To do that she had to trust him. Not an easy issue to resolve in two days’ time. Not with their spotty record. “They’ve got a nice pool at the BOQ.”

“I want to grab my swimsuit out of my duffel bag and head for the beach.” She gave him a droll look. “You’re a SEAL. Water’s your home.”

“Is that an invite to come along?” His hopes rose. Maybe another six hours of sleep had put her in a better mood. The serious look on her face melted his heart. He wanted her so damn bad.

“Up to you. After all these flights, murderous jet lag, I need to move into Mom Ocean’s arms and just be.”

“I’ll come along in case some nasty undertow starts to drag you away. Or some shark decides to think you’re a delicious dessert.”

She shook her head as she opened the driver’s-side door on the military car. Reaching in, Morgan sprung the trunk open so they could put all of his equipment, including his duffel bag, into it. “You SEALs own the water. But somehow, Ramsey, I don’t need any rescuing or protecting.” She slid into the car.

Jake felt his spirit lift a little. Morgan was more like her old self. The woman he knew. The woman who loved so damned hotly that he felt scalded inside and out by her raw sensuality. Climbing into the car, he said, “Maybe you’ll have to rescue me, then.”

She threw her head back, husky laughter rolling out of her. God, how he’d missed that laugh. And yet, Jake knew she was an emotional minefield. As badly as he wanted her to surrender to him, he knew she didn’t dare. He couldn’t break her heart the way he knew he would. Not ever.