Delta's Baby Surprise (Special Forces Elite 1)

Darla shrugged. “I don’t know.” She handed me the sheet of paper. “And this one didn’t get called in until after five. You almost didn’t have any.”

“You mean the list was blank?”

“Yep.” Darla smiled. “There isn’t much information about him on here. Only that he just returned.”

“Captain Brett Jackson,” I whispered. I looked at the notes in the margin. “Not much to go on, but I’ll pay him a visit in the morning.” I turned for the door. “Good night, Darla.”

“Good night, doc.”

Three

Brett

I sat on the front porch of the cabin. For the past two years I had the same ritual when I woke up. I would unsheathe the dagger from the case I wore on my leg and sharpen the blade.

It became part of my survival routine. My gun could misfire, but my knife would always be accurate and sharp. The edge of the blade scraped over the sharpening block as I dipped it back and forth with a certain rhythm.

I could hear the engine before I even saw the car. My ears were tuned in to every sound. I clutched the handle when I saw the car approach. Who in the hell would be driving out here other than family? And that wasn’t family. My cabin was in the middle of the woods and off the beaten path.

I stood, scowling at the car. The last thing I wanted was a magazine subscription or to donate money to a political campaign. I glared at the windshield, but I couldn’t see who was behind the wheel. There was enough sunlight filtering through the treetops to cause a bright reflection.

My eyes narrowed when the car door opened. I crossed my arms, but my heart stopped and my chest seized when I saw the driver. She slammed the door behind her and walked toward me.

“Are you Captain Brett Jackson?” she asked from the base of the steps.

The physical jolt to my system was so fierce I almost fell backwards. What the fuck was happening?

I looked down at her green eyes. There were depths of green like rolling hills. Flecks of emerald like a glittery jewel. Her raven hair floated over her shoulders. Damn, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I swallowed hard, gripping the knife.

I thought I would be immune to this type of reaction. Two years of living in the desert, hunting enemy targets had erased my interest in women, or at least that’s what I had trained myself to think. I didn’t need softness or companionship any longer. I had trained myself to focus on the mission. To focus on the safety of the country. Women weren’t part of the equation any longer. They were only a distraction.

Especially a woman that looked like that.

She stepped back, her eyes landing on the weapon. I saw the fear in her reaction.

“Sorry.” I returned it to its case. “Sorry. I was only sharpening it.” I placed it on the chair behind me. I held my hands forward. I realized how menacing it looked.

The tension seemed to ease from her shoulders, but I could see the look of distrust still lingering there. Her eyes continued to dart to the knife.

“Are you Captain Jackson?” she asked again.

I had an instant desire to wrap my arms around her, but I stood anchored to the porch. What was happening to me? Why did I feel like my heart could rip through my chest? As if my blood was boiling under my skin?

“Depends.”

“I’m from the Help a Hero Program. I’m Dr. Forrest,” she explained.

“Help a Hero?” I was trying to study everything about her. I was trying to make sense of the urges gripping me from the inside out.

“Yes, someone added your name to the list of veterans who needed a volunteer visit.”

“I don’t understand. I’m on a list. What list?” The tighter I crossed my arms, the less likely I would be to reach for her. I’d already scared her once with the knife.

“Well, it’s an organization that checks on veterans when they return home from overseas. Check in to see if you need anything. You know, just a friendly face in the community who cares about your well-being.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that the wind had picked up. “I usually try to do a quick medical intake. It’s one of the perks of having a doctor be your buddy.” She raised a medical bag.

“Buddy?”

“Yeah, it does sound a little junior high. How about community friend? Or what about local link?” She sighed. “Ok, that sounds worse. This is why I’m not on the creative team. I’ll just stick to medicine. I’m your contact person in the program. Ok?”