Risk Taker. Lindsay McKenna
quickly walked down the avenues of camouflage tents sitting on concrete blocks with plywood floors. The dirt was fine and dusty and got into every crack, pore and crevice that a human being owned, not to mention his M4 rifle and the SIG pistol he always wore.
The sky was a light blue as he walked alertly down several other avenues, heading for the showers. There were only forty SEALs on this black ops FOB. They were a small but mighty contingent on this 24/7 base.
He turned down toward the main supply building, an area clear of tents and a shortcut to the men’s showers.
“You sonofabitch! Get off me!”
Ethan wheeled around toward the woman’s angry voice. His eyes widened when he saw Blue Eyes down in the dirt with an enlisted Army sergeant on top of her, groping at her flight suit. The sergeant’s big hand reached down and ripped open the front of her uniform. He held her down with his other hand, fingers closing around her throat.
Blue Eyes weighed a good hundred pounds less than the guy, but, as Ethan ran swiftly and silently up behind him, she was giving a damned good account of herself. The man’s nose was broken and bleeding, and he sported a black eye. SEALs made a living out of being shadows. With one swift movement of his fist, he coldcocked the unknown assailant in his left temple. The man went flying off her, knocked unconscious.
Ethan turned. “You okay?” he asked, kneeling down. She had blood on her cheek, and her nose was bleeding heavily.
“That stupid bastard,” she breathed angrily, trying to pull her torn uniform closed at her neck.
Her eyes were blue fury. Ethan glanced over his shoulder—the stranger was out cold. “He won’t bother you again,” he murmured, giving her a concerned look. Her hair was dirty, and blood ran down her lips and dripped off her chin. Digging out the dark green bandanna he always wore when out on patrol, he said apologetically, “It’s dirty, but maybe you can use it to stop your nose from bleeding?”
She gave him a mutinous look, grabbed it and pressed it against her nose. “Thanks,” she mumbled, rolling over to her hand and knees.
“Are you hurt? Can I get you over to the dispensary?” Ethan held out his hand, but she refused it.
“I’m all right!” She tried to rise, but her knees buckled beneath her.
Ethan moved swiftly, catching her before she hit the ground again. “Okay, look,” he coaxed in a low, even voice. “You aren’t in any shape to be going anywhere just yet. Did he hit you?” Dumb question: he could see she’d been struck. He was trying to talk her down so she’d become reasonable.
“Hell, yes, he hit me!” She glared up at him, breathing hard, gripping her uniform closed so he couldn’t see her bra beneath it.
“Where?” Ethan asked quietly, as if he were talking to a fractious horse he was trying to settle down. He knelt near but kept his hands off her. He didn’t want a broken nose.
“The head. He jumped me from behind, the sonofabitch!” She glared over at his unmoving body.
Ethan looked at her dust-covered brow and noticed swelling on her right temple. “He tried to knock you out.”
“Ya think?”
Ethan nodded, knowing Blue Eyes was in shock. Her hand trembled, and there were tears in her eyes. “Well, he won’t do it again,” he promised her. Assaulting any officer was a major offense, and the man would be going up for court-martial.
“I hope you killed him. I wonder how many other military women he’s stalked and jumped and then raped?” Her lower lip quivered with fury as she looked accusingly up at him.
Ethan saw Tolleson coming with a set of towels, a washcloth and soap in hand. He gestured sharply for him to get his ass over there pronto.
Tolleson skidded to a stop, his eyes widening as he looked down at them and then at the unconscious man. “What the hell happened?”
“The guy jumped Blue Eyes—I mean...” Ethan gave her an apologetic look, making a point of looking at the last name embroidered in black across the top of the left pocket of her flight uniform, “Chief Warrant Officer Benson.”
Tolleson nodded, stepped back and pulled a radio out of his cammie pocket. He called the military police and gave them their location. He looked down. “Do you need medical help, Chief Benson?”
“Hell, no! I just want to get out of here and get back to my tent.” She looked down at her dusty uniform.
Ethan felt sorry for her. She was angry and upset. He could see her tremble as adrenaline raced through her bloodstream. “I can walk you to your tent, Chief Benson. Tell me what you need?” She seemed to calm a little beneath his quiet tone. Tears splattered down her cheeks, making trails through the dust.
“Just help me up, will you? I need to get to my tent and get cleaned up.” She reluctantly held her hand out toward him.
Ethan stood up and wrapped his fingers around hers, gently pulling her to her feet. She wobbled on unsteady knees. Her attacker had nearly knocked her out. A dark fury moved through Ethan. Delta Dude and his team had remained in the canteen. Had this Army sergeant been waiting for the first woman who walked by to attack her? Had Blue Eyes been at the wrong place at the wrong time?
Ethan cupped her left elbow. “Come on,” he urged her quietly. “I’ll take you to your tent. Just give me directions.” He felt a shift, as if his whole life was about to change.
Chapter 2
Sarah felt her knees going. Again. God, why couldn’t she just tough this one out? The SEAL who had intervened and saved her hide swiftly reacted. In seconds, he’d picked her up and brought her into his arms.
“Put me down,” she ordered angrily.
“Can’t do it, ma’am. I’m taking you to the medical dispensary.”
Ethan’s voice was low and firm. His arms were strong. Sarah closed her eyes, fighting the urge to simply surrender to him. The rage she felt over the attack was dissolving as the adrenaline slowly left her system. She was exhausted and, worse, weak. A feeling she hated more than anything.
“You can relax,” Ethan told her, his lips near her hair. “There’s a time to fight and a time to take a step back and reassess the situation.”
Sarah also felt needy, which was so unlike her. His voice was soothing, and the anxiety rushing through her abated. He carried her easily, as if she were a feather, and yet Sarah knew she was no lightweight. As she held his green bandanna over her nose, the blood continued to leak out of her nostrils. Her nose burned like fire and her head throbbed.
She looked up at him. He glanced down at her. His beard, although well trimmed, made him look even more dangerous to her. His eyes were a light gray with large black pupils, like those of a raptor.
“Doing okay?” Ethan asked her in a conversational tone.
“I’ve had better days,” Sarah muttered. She saw the corners of his mouth lift slightly. There was such tightly held tension in him. She’d seen him move so damn swiftly when he saw what was happening to her; it left her stunned. He was grace, tension and power all in one decisive action. “You’re a SEAL?”
“Yeah.” Ethan laughed to himself. He hid a part of himself from his SEAL brethren; he journaled and, sometimes, wrote poetry to express what he saw or experienced. It was a way to get his emotions out instead of always putting them in his kill box, which was what all his brothers did.
She saw his focus. He was carrying her through rows of tents, alert and missing nothing. Intense. That was the word she’d use for this SEAL. Slowly, Sarah reluctantly relaxed into his arms. He had a powerful chest and a broad set of shoulders that looked like he could carry the world on them. Even though his face was hard and nearly unreadable, she sensed kindness in him. Maybe it was his full mouth, now pursed, holding back