“There.” She stepped back and he dropped his shirt. “You’ll do.”
His body held no surprises. He’d been X-rayed, tested and poked to death before he’d been allowed to join a special warfare training compound as a SEAL trainee. After that, he’d trained, honed and disciplined that body. There was no one type of man who made it through SEAL training. Big guys, little guys, it was all about the motivation and having the sheer determination and will. So he wasn’t worried about the bullet. He knew what his body was capable of and he’d be fine.
Nope. The problem wasn’t his body. It was his goddamn heart. He had something stuck in it, and he was pretty certain it was Laney.
She met his gaze. “Where is this going?”
They both knew he couldn’t tell her the details. On the other hand, he didn’t want her worrying—or trying to follow him. “The landing zone on the other side of the island. We have incoming.”
She stared at him, the familiar pucker forming between her eyebrows. “This isn’t about helicopters.”
Right. She’d meant them.
“Never mind.” Her sigh ruffled his hair, and he wanted to smooth away the frown, memorize the answer that would make her happy.
“Well, good luck...” Pausing, she tilted her face up to his. That was his cue, but he felt as if they were playing out another fantasy, one he hadn’t been given the script to. How did civilians do this? Hand over a cup of coffee, plant a kiss on her lips and hightail it? Planning. He needed to plan more the next time.
When he still didn’t say anything, because he was a dumbass, she hitched in a breath and stepped in closer, sliding her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. His arsenal had to be digging into her, but she didn’t seem to mind. Laney was a good sport and practical to boot. God, he needed to go. To find some drug-runner ass to kick. But another part of him wanted to stay right here, with this woman.
“I need you to come back to me, okay?”
That had been the wrong thing to say. Fantasies were just that—fantasies.
She knew it even before Gray froze in the doorway. She needed a do-over, a list of witty things to say when your lover geared up and headed out on a secret military mission. “I don’t go looking for trouble,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “But I never walk away from a fight when it finds me. Some of us, we walk the wall holding our rifles, and we never pull the trigger, but me, I’m part of a unit where I’ll aim and fire if that’s what the mission requires. I think you should know that.”
Gray bristled with weapons and camo, a look that was part sexy, part scary because this was no game. He was really going to go out there and, if he had guns, so would other people. Soldiers got hurt. She should know. She’d already sewn him up once. Stretching up on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss against his stubble-roughened cheek. The gesture was another inappropriate move, but she wanted the kiss for herself.
“Got it,” she said.
This wasn’t how she’d imagined their night ending. Although, really, what had she thought would happen? Pancakes at an all-night diner? A declaration of love? Pancakes were good and she’d bet the resort’s restaurant would cook them, but he was her breakup man, her fun-times guy. She hadn’t planned on keeping him, so it was good he was already on his way out the door.
* * *
GRAY AND LEVI lay on their stomachs in position on the western side of the road leading from the landing pad to the resort. Remy and Mason had the east side. A shooting pair was focused on the apex of the ambush. That gave them six shooters on this stretch of road. The rest of the second SEAL team had the backside of the landing pad covered. If the SEALs riding the jeeps couldn’t disarm Marcos—and no one believed the man would come unarmed—and Marcos broke away, Gray, Levi and the others would provide crossfire in the kill zone. Taking their perp alive was the priority, but they’d take him down if it were the only option.
From his vantage point, Gray couldn’t see the thatched-roof hut just down the jungle track that served as the resort’s “airport.” Everything there would seem normal, with no telltale clues that two teams of SEALs had replaced the usual staff. Two jeeps waited to meet the arriving guests, and Gray had SEALs in both vehicles, along with more SEALs dressed in the advance team’s clothes. Marcos shouldn’t realize anything had happened until he was boots down on the ground.
The jungle slowly woke up around them. Birds called back and forth over the whine of insects, and a male howler monkey vocalized in the distance. With his legs spread, Gray’s boots touched Levi’s. Even when the helicopter came into sight and they went silent, he wouldn’t be alone. He’d be toe to heel and in constant communication even though moving wasn’t an option. According to Ashley’s inside source, Marcos planned to time his arrival for sunrise. That wasn’t optimal flying time, but apparently, Marcos’s girlfriend had declared it romantic and a symbol of new beginnings. He’d bet Marcos had loved that. If all went according to plan, she’d be pulled away from Marcos and out of any possible firefight. Gray didn’t know how much she understood about Marcos’s business dealings, but Uncle Sam had a list of questions with her name on it.