Chapter 2 #2
His mouth was firm, lips too disciplined to curve into easy smiles, too stubborn to yield to softness. His eyes, dark, fathomless, set deep beneath steady brows, seemed to hold whole skies in their silence. Eyes that saw her, stripped her down, and left her shaken.
It was the kind of face that carried history, every line and shadow etched with quiet weight. A face that wasn’t just handsome. It was elemental.
As her gaze trailed down the strong column of his throat, she blinked.
The bruise there marred his dusky skin, raw and angry, a livid reminder of what they’d barely survived.
The sight snapped the jungle back into focus, flashes of bullets thudding through the air, his hands cupping her face, his arms cradling her against the dirt.
The way he’d looked at her then, concern bleeding through that rugged, unyielding face, made her mind scramble all over again. Clear signals or her delusions?
Bits and pieces sharpened, the man who had dragged Bear down, the savage way Bear had fought back, unbowed, unstoppable.
Something visceral stirred low inside her, not hunger, not pride, but a fierce, almost primal desire to protect him.
The thought came sharp, hard, undeniable.
She would throw herself in front of a bullet for him.
That kind of certainty scared the hell out of her. It made her want to pull back and lean closer all at once, heart hammering as if the danger were still all around them.
“You guys doing a staring match?” Zorro asked excitedly. “I’m next.”
Buck snorted. “God have mercy,” he muttered.
Bear gave his teammate a look that sent a shiver down Bailee’s spine. Dark, flat, the kind of look that could silence a room. But Zorro, being Zorro, leaned right into it, grin unshaken. “I can take you both.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at Bear’s mouth, tantalizing in its rarity. He shook his head once. “Martinez.” One word, heavy with warning and humor in equal measure.
Flint nosed her hand with the tennis ball, whining.
Bailee crouched, grateful for the excuse to move, to break the intensity knotting in her chest. “All right, handsome,” she whispered to the dog.
She threw the ball down the narrow aisle, watched him bound after it, nails clicking against the metal floor.
“He’ll run you ragged,” Bear murmured. “How’s that head?”
“A dull ache, nothing terrible,” she said. Her eyes flicked to that bruise, and she had the sudden urge to press her lips against that shadowed, seductive hollow. “Your throat?”
“A dull ache, nothing terrible.”
She laughed softly, and his dark brown eyes shone. “You really should do that more often.”
When Flint came back, she continued to throw it for him. After a few minutes, Blitz took over. She turned to find Bear, his head tilted back against the webbing, eyes closed, lashes fanning against the dark circles under his eyes.
She sank into her seat again, and a moment later, the plane hit a pocket of turbulence.
His head slipped sideways, dropping onto her shoulder with solid weight, all that dark, silky hair sliding over her shoulder.
His face in rest was softer, but not any less devastating.
She focused on his mouth helplessly, firm lips, that enticing bow she wanted to lick, suck, devour.
Her pulse stuttered. She froze, this reckless feeling came over her, and against all better judgment, let the back of her hand drift, just barely, until it brushed the warm length of his forearm. Heat radiated into her skin, through her bones, until she thought she might combust.
She told herself it was nothing. Just gravity, just warmth, just fatigue. But deep down, she knew it was a lie. Ancestors help her. She was such a stupid, stupid fool.
When Bear woke, the first thing in his lungs was her scent.
He breathed deep, eyes opening to find Bailee asleep against him, her arm pressed to his, surely by accident in the cramped metal tubing seats of the C-130.
He didn’t move. Just let himself indulge as the plane banked and the pilot’s voice crackled overhead.
“We’re about to land, folks.”
She stirred, pulling her arm back, slow, deliberate, and cleared her throat. Her lashes lifted, her eyes a sleepy, smoky blue. “We’re home?”
He nodded. “Just about to land.” Something sharp and unwanted stabbed through his chest. He forced it down, kept his voice level. “We usually hit the watering hole.”
She zipped her bag, her voice catching just enough to tell him she felt the same heat. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“Come on, take a break. It’s a group thing. All the wives will be there. I bet you miss seeing them.”
Her eyes lit up. “I do. They brighten up a room.” He nudged her shoulder, and she swallowed hard, then let out a soft sigh, “You buying?”
His heart jumped as the plane landed, easy and smooth, the engines roaring. “First round, woman. You probably make more than we do.” He raised his voice over the noise.
She chuckled. “Hmm. Taking the fifth.” Then she shot him a steely glance. “So, second round on me.” Her eyes stayed on him, lingering. “You play pool?”
The ramp started down with a groan. Blitz hefted his backpack and grinned. “Watch out. Bear is silent and deadly—operating, games, probably with everything.”
Bailee’s brows dipped. She huffed. “Perish the thought.”
The sound jolted through him. Heat from her, straight into his skin, aching and raw. For the first time, he wondered if he could push it far enough to get a dance out of her, press that firelit body against his and find out if the sparks would burn them both alive.
An hour later, Bear shouldered through the press of bodies, the familiar noise of the watering hole wrapping around him like a well-worn jacket, laughter, clinking bottles, the jukebox humming under the chatter.
He’d left Flint at the base kennel, giving the dog a chance to sleep before bringing him home tomorrow.
The delay cost him, and for a moment, he thought he’d regret it.
Until he spotted the wives.
Warmth filled him, easing the tension that never quite left his shoulders.
He liked these women, strong, sharp-tongued, funny as hell, especially their newest addition.
Dr. Everly Quinn. Doc Sunshine. She and Zorro had been through the wringer, but they’d made it.
His gaze dimmed for a moment. Zorro had been hit, too, and Doc Sunshine had operated on him.
He’d never forget the brutal way she’d cut down the bastard before he could finish Zorro off.
Later, Zorro had broken out of the hospital, flown across the world, and laid it all down for her. Happy ending, hard won.
The wives’ energy meshed with the team’s rough edges in a way that always felt like home. Right there among them, like she belonged, was Bailee.
She already had a bottle in front of her, condensation sliding down the glass, her fingers resting loose on the neck. She was listening, her blue-shot-with-steel gaze tracking the conversation, but Bear caught it, the smile that didn’t quite reach. Distant. Somewhere else.
As he stepped closer, the table broke into laughter. Everly leaned in, mischief flashing. “So, after our first time together, I see this wad of soggy brown material, and I ask Zorro what they were and why they were wet.”
Bear’s stomach clenched. UDT shorts. Rio. His gaze cut to Bailee, pulse tightening.
She was still smiling, but not at Everly’s story. Her eyes had gone shadowed. Pale. Damn if it didn’t make him want to know exactly why.
Zorro grinned. “She looked at them like they were alien goo.”
“Seriously, babe,” Everly said, “I was at a loss.”
“UDTs,” Helen said. “Oh, yes…the infamous and the tiny.”
“Tiny bordering on barely there,” Izzy added, shooting a look at Gator. He grinned as wide as Zorro.
“He proceeds to tell me they’re Navy issued. I was completely skeptical.”
“We’ve all gotten that line,” Bree muttered.
“Skeptical?” Zorro shook his head. “She was downright dubious. When I told her Bear and I swam in them, she wasn’t amused.”
Everly rolled her eyes. “All I could say was that he and Bear wore them in public. His response? ‘Babe, they’re legendary.’”
“They are,” Zorro said firmly. “Bear got two marriage proposals and a very provocative one.”
“Two?” Bear rumbled, and all heads turned toward him. “I think you miscounted there, amigo.”
“About time,” Joker said, kicking out a chair next to Bailee, and setting a waiting bottle of beer in front of him. She shifted, speculative, eyes flicking to Bear.
Zorro scratched the back of his neck, sheepish grin flashing. “Okay, okay. It was three. I wanted to impress Everly, so I downplayed it.”
“He does have a fine ass,” D-Day threw in.
“Confirmed,” Blitz said, raising his beer. “Ten out of ten. Would follow into battle.”
“Into battle?” Buck scoffed. “More like into temptation.”
“Temptation, hell,” Joker added. “That thing’s a national treasure. Needs its own security detail.”
Even Zorro leaned back, smug grin flashing. “Hell, might start charging admission.”
The table roared, wives half-shocked, half egging it on.
Bear sat through it, stone-faced, but inside he let the nonsense roll, because maybe, just maybe, it would take Bailee’s mind off Rio. He finally rumbled, “Can’t take the credit. It’s all Uncle Sam’s molding.”
Professor snorted into his beer. “That sounds like we work for some creepy bastard.”
The laughter doubled, loud and shameless, and for one beat Bailee’s shoulders loosened.
She even let out a sharp little laugh that cracked through the weight in her eyes.
Bear felt it like sunlight in his chest. Back on the plane, those words had just jumped out of him about her laugh.
He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. The words felt like stepping over a line he’d drawn and redrawn his whole life.
“I’m sure those shorts left nothing to the imagination.” Everly sniffed primly, which only made Zorro grin wider.