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Present Day
Wyatt “Wildcard” Miller grinned at his buddies, jumping over the low wall with ease and moving across the sandy ground toward his teammates. They’d been running training scenarios all day, tasked with breaching an enemy structure and rescuing hostages. Wyatt’s team had accomplished their goal with five civilian “hostages” saved and the enemy taken out. His muscles bunched as he moved, and his combat boots kicked up some dirt as he hustled. The warm Hawaiian breeze kissed his tanned skin, the sunshine beating down on him. He was covered in sweat but felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. Today was the type of day it felt like something good was about to happen.
He jokingly pumped his fist in the air as his teammates laughed, their commanding officer making notations from the sidelines. “Nice job, boys,” Wyatt said to the others. “We took out the tangos and rescued the innocents.”
“Piece of cake,” Sawyer “Saint” Collins said with a chuckle, leaning against a railing. “They’re going to have to try harder to keep us out. Remember that last op in the South Pacific? This was nothing in comparison.”
“You know this simulation was an easy one,” Wyatt quipped. “They wanted to show us off to the brass in town. They’ll be running harder scenarios for us tomorrow.” He swung his rucksack to the ground and pulled out his canteen, taking a long pull of water. Nothing like dressing in full combat gear in the eighty-degree heat. It was a fucking perfect Hawaiian day, however, with blue skies and clear ocean as far as the eye could see. His gaze stayed on the water in the distance for a moment, taking in the vastness of the Pacific. It was awe-inspiring how big the ocean was and how small they were in comparison. Not that he was wanting to get all philosophical. Wyatt shifted his attention back to his teammates.
“They can try to trip us up tomorrow,” Sawyer said, looking cocky. “It won’t happen. We’ll get the job done.”
“Damn straight we will,” Ryan “Renegade” Pierce said. “Let’s see what they’ve got for us. We’ll show ‘em how it’s done.” He rubbed his hands together, looking ready despite the fact that they’d just completed the day’s training. Ryan sauntered over to grab his own canteen. He was shorter than the other men on the team at five-foot-nine but strong as hell. He could easily take down men bigger than him, something that worked well when dealing with enemy combatants.
Wyatt’s gaze moved between his men. They weren’t wrong in their claims. Their SEAL team was among the most highly-trained operatives in the world, part of the elite Alpha SEALs. While multiple other SEAL teams were CONUS, stationed on the east and west coasts, Wyatt’s team was stationed in Pearl Harbor. It was as sweet a location as one could get, smack dab in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on a tropical island. Palm trees, women in bikinis, sunshine, and sand. He had no problem with any of it. It was also far from his childhood home in Maryland. Wyatt had left without looking back as a teenager, joining the Navy, and now he served his country, operating under the orders of the U.S. military.
“So what’s on tap for tonight, fellas?” Sawyer asked. “It’s thirsty Thursday. Anyone interested in grabbing a beer?”
“Sure, as long as we go somewhere where we can find the pretty girls,” Austin “Storm” Eckhart joked. He stretched, rolling his shoulders. At six-foot-three, he was the tallest man on the team. At twenty-nine, he was also the youngest—not that twenty-nine was young as far as the military went. Guys fresh out of boot camp looked like kids in comparison to them.
Wyatt and his team had seen the world and dealt with it all—the good and bad. The shit as it hit the fan. The evil that was sometimes lurking in plain sight. The men trained hard and fought harder, deploying wherever they were needed and serving their country without fanfare. Bravery and patriotism were in their blood, and the men worked seamlessly together like brothers who’d been raised together. Wyatt wouldn’t trade his career in the Navy for anything. He’d forged bonds as strong as family ties with his friends, and they were out there doing good in the world.
Sawyer crossed his arms, nodding. “Well, that was a given, buddy. We’re all single. I intend to stay that way, but I wouldn’t turn down a night with a beautiful woman.”
“That one waitress at Coconuts has googly eyes for you,” Ryan said, his lips quirking. “You should take her home sometime.”
“Nah. She’s too sweet for me.”
Wyatt snorted. That was probably true. Sawyer’s nickname of “Saint” wasn’t exactly come by honestly. Sinner would’ve been closer to the truth, but the moniker “Saint” had stuck anyway. He was a damn good SEAL, yet not the type of man a woman looked to settle down with. Not that Wyatt had a girlfriend either.
“How about you, Wildcard?” Sawyer joked, calling Wyatt by his own nickname. “You in?”
Wyatt lifted a shoulder. “Sure. I could go for a beer. What time do you wanna meet up?”
“Nineteen hundred. I’ve got some stuff to take care of beforehand.”
“Roger that. I’ve got to swing by the store anyway and grab a few things,” Wyatt said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “My fridge is bare, and my personal chef is off this week.”
“Wiseass,” Sawyer quipped.
“It had sounded like an op might come up, so I didn’t stock up,” Wyatt admitted. “I think we’re good for this next week at least. I need to grab some milk for my protein shakes. Drinking that mix with water is just nasty.”
Ryan’s lips quirked, and he shook his head. All the men had eaten far worse things than watered down protein shakes during their deployments. Even MREs looked like a gourmet meal compared to some of the shit they’d had.
One of their commanding officers walked over to them, dismissing the men for the day. Wyatt’s team had stuck around in case they needed to run through something again.
Ryan gave Sawyer a fist bump. “I’m gonna grab a shower. See you at Coconuts.”
“I’ll fill in the others,” Sawyer said, glancing to where Aaron “Anchor” Nielsen and Hudson “Torpedo” Brown were talking.
“Sounds like a plan. See you boys later,” Wyatt said, grabbing his gear again and sauntering toward the building. It had been a damn long day of training but exhilarating, too. He felt primed and ready to go. Tonight would be good. He’d kick back with his buddies, have a beer, maybe flirt with a pretty girl or two. He could certainly look even if he didn’t plan to touch. He wasn’t exactly looking for a girlfriend and wasn’t feeling like a one-night-stand. Wyatt was too old for that kind of thing anymore. Still, it felt like something good was coming his way. Something important. His lips quirked as he moved through the warm Hawaiian sunshine. He was down for something exciting to happen.
An hour later, Wyatt was crossing the parking lot at the grocery store near his house, his gaze scanning the area out of habit. Traffic was already bad, a given any day in Honolulu. Aside from the people that lived and worked on the island, tourists abounded. He wasn’t going to bemoan the fact that he spent hours sitting in traffic, too. Compared to stints in various hellholes around the world, a regular workday in Hawaii was like a vacation.
He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw, briefly nodding at a woman with two kids in the parking lot. Hell. A wife and kids were so far from his world right now, it was almost comical. Wyatt and his friends were all single. It was hard to even imagine a life other than the one he currently led.
A blonde woman striding across the parking lot caught his attention, and he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Long, blonde hair swished in the wind, and shapely legs peeked out from beneath her sundress as she continued moving in the opposite direction.
Callie.
That wasn’t her, of course. Callie was a woman he’d met on an op months ago—“met” being a mild term for rescuing her and hundreds of other passengers from a hijacked airplane on the runway in Manila. The plane had been flying to Seoul when it was taken over by multiple armed men. Although it had turned around and landed safely in Manila, hundreds of people had been held hostage onboard, stuck on the runway for hours. Wyatt’s men had teamed up with Everett “Ace” Walker’s team from Coronado. Together, the two SEAL teams had taken out the hijackers and freed all the passengers.
And Callie?
Worry churned through his gut. Her arm had been bent at an awkward angle—broken. She’d been singled out from the other passengers and held in the cockpit. Wyatt was worried she’d been sexually assaulted in addition to physically harmed, but there’d been no time to question her. He’d helped her off the airplane and then briefly spoken to her in the triage area. When he went back to check on her a second time, she was gone.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about her now and then, and not just when he saw a pretty blonde. It had been an intense, terrifying rescue for the passengers, but when he’d locked eyes with Callie, something had clicked into place. He’d felt a deep-seated need to keep her safe and wipe that look of fear off her face. Shield her from the evil men who’d brought harm to her and the other innocent civilians. Wyatt felt protective of her in a way that made no sense. He didn’t know the woman. They’d spoken for mere moments.
Besides, Wyatt had been in the middle of a mission. He’d checked on her but had to finish his duties and continue with his assignment, not tag along beside her to the hospital. And if worry touched the back of his mind every now and again as he wondered if she was okay, if she was happy, then so be it. She wasn’t the first person he’d saved and wouldn’t be the last. She was the only one who’d stuck in his head though.
Wyatt thought he’d seen her a week ago, too, walking on the beach when he’d gone for a run. That was damned near impossible. She didn’t live in Hawaii, and he knew his chances of seeing her again were nil.
Still, he watched as the blonde woman walked toward her car, taking in her hesitant movements. She almost looked worried as she looked around the parking lot. He slowed his step, frowning. Wyatt had an urge to go over and see if the woman was okay, but for all he knew, that might frighten her more. She seemed almost skittish. Strange given that it was daytime with cars and people everywhere. She hadn’t noticed him, however, which also gave him pause. For someone so wary of her surroundings, she wasn’t taking everything in. He was a big, muscular guy. She didn’t even see him watching her.
The Callie-lookalike clicked on her key fob, and the lights to a Mini Cooper flashed. Wyatt suppressed the urge to smile. That was a tiny little vehicle but somehow suited her. She glanced left once more and then climbed in, pulling the door shut behind her.
Wyatt realized he’d completely stopped, watching her like some creepy stalker. He shifted the plastic grocery bags to one hand and moved to his own SUV. A woman walking by gave him the once-over, but she was heavily made-up. He doubted there was anything natural on her. Big boobs. Botox. Bleached blonde hair. She was probably pretty without the fillers and cosmetic enhancements. Sawyer would like her, Wyatt thought with a smirk. He was a boob guy. Not that Wyatt didn’t appreciate a beautiful woman, but Sawyer was the type of man easily distracted by any pretty girl.
Wyatt popped the hatch of his SUV and set his groceries in the back, his gaze landing on the duffle bag he kept there. All of the guys kept a go-bag in their vehicle in case they were quickly called up in an emergency. They were at the mercy of Uncle Sam and gave their lives to their country in service. He shut the trunk as he stepped back. The Mini Cooper had finally backed out of its parking space and almost seemed to slow as it drove by him, but then suddenly it pulled away as he glanced up, heading out of the parking lot. He watched it go for a moment then shook his head and climbed into his own vehicle.
There was no sense in wondering if the mystery blonde had been Callie. The chances were slim to none, and he barely knew the woman anyway.
Maybe he’d try looking her up, just to prove to himself it wasn’t her. The names of all the passengers had been on the manifest, so he could easily learn her last name. If he remembered correctly, she was a travel blogger. The girlfriend of another SEAL who’d also been on the hijacked plane had befriended her. Wyatt would find Callie’s blog and see where she was in the world. Hopefully, after her terrifying ordeal, she was living her best life. That was all he could hope for. If he was missing out on getting to know an intriguing woman, it was what it was. He owed the Navy a number of years and went where they told him. Did his job without question. Even if he wanted to see Callie, he didn’t have much of a chance out here in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
