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NAVY SEAL MARK “MAYHEM” Covington jogged along the nearly empty beach, his arms pumping in rhythm with his movement. He normally trained with his teammates but was enjoying the quiet of the early morning. His running shoes moved easily across the hard sand near the waterline, and the salty ocean breeze filled his nostrils. He’d worked up a good sweat, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Hardly anyone was down on the beach, but he appreciated the solitude of a good, long run. He’d jogged several miles from where he’d parked, and after checking the time on his watch, he turned around to head back.
He’d worked up a healthy appetite, and after showering and changing, he’d be ready for some food. Mark still had several miles back though. The morning was growing brighter as the sun rose higher in the sky. He’d only passed two other people, a couple of middle-aged women speed-walking in their workout gear.
His lips quirked. Despite the fact they were much older than him, he’d seen their looks. He was in good shape, and the muscle tank and shorts he had on showed off his physique. Naturally, he hadn’t seen any women his own age. That’d be too damn easy. He’d just lamented to one of his buddies the other day that he kept missing the pretty women at the gym of his apartment complex. It wasn’t a great spot to work out by any means, the equipment subpar, but he had no issues with flirting with the women there. If he actually ran into them, that is. With late nights on base and frequent deployments, his schedule didn’t always mesh with others his age. Not that he was out bar-hopping every night at twenty-nine, but hell. Just a few weeks ago they’d spent their Friday evening meeting with their CO and packing their gear for an early morning deployment.
A seagull swooped through the air, and Mark’s gaze shifted. He still had another mile to reach the area he’d started from. Swiping the sweat off his brow, he pushed himself harder for the last stretch. This was an easy run compared to some of the more grueling workouts he did with his teammates. The music he was listening to on his AirPods had him pumped up. Maybe he should go another mile in the other direction, too. He was charged up and full of energy this morning, restless for some unexplainable reason.
The pier located near the parking lot was coming into view, and Mark did a double take. He must be seeing things, because despite only seeing the two older women during his run, a young blonde woman was walking along the pier, clad in a sexy red bikini. No one else was around, but he realized she was holding up her phone, snapping selfies as she tossed her head around, her blonde hair catching in the wind.
Mark resisted the urge to chuckle. Hell. Who came to the beach this early to take pictures of themself? Not that he minded the show she was putting on. The woman was gorgeous. She struck another pose, one hip jutting out to the side, her breasts pushing against that little string bikini. His groin tightened, and he turned down his music as he slowed his pace.
Hell, she had a gorgeous body. A nice ass. Firm breasts. Long, blonde hair blowing in the breeze. He was jogging straight toward the woman and felt the tiniest twinge of guilt that he was openly ogling her. Clearly, she thought she was alone. Mark noticed a straw tote bag at the edge of the pier. She bent down, pulling out a floral dress and second bikini. Shit. Was she going to change right here in front of him? No one else was in sight on the beach.
He’d feel like an ass for not saying something. Maybe she was going to slip the dress on and then somehow change her bikini? What the hell did he know?
She held her phone up, her clothes clutched in one hand, and snapped some pictures of her tote bag, and then a close up of something on the wooden pier. Was she some sort of photographer? Model? Clothes-obsessed woman? He was close enough to see her face now, and she was even younger than he expected, probably only twenty-one or so. He frowned as he realized she still hadn’t noticed him. Although he’d never harm a woman, she really should have some more self-awareness. What if some jackass came out of nowhere? Although this was a safe area, she was vulnerable alone here on the beach.
Mark slowed to a jog, pulling out his AirPods and stopping the music on his phone. He should just walk away, heading the opposite direction of the pier toward the parking lot. No doubt she’d notice him then. She bit her lip, looking slightly baffled as she stared at her phone. She set it inside her tote bag, still holding her clothes, and then reached up to untie her bikini top.
“Hey there!” Mark called out.
The woman shrieked in surprise, taking a step backwards as she glanced over in his direction, and then stumbled right off the pier, falling into the ocean with a splash.
“Shit,” Mark muttered. He tugged his phone free from his armband, tossing it and his AirPods onto the sand. He quickly bent down to untie his running shoes, stripped off his shirt, and then ran straight toward the water, leaving his belongings on the beach. She hadn’t surfaced yet, but he could get to her quickly.
The cool water on his skin felt more refreshing than shocking as he charged into the waves, but she’d fallen in unexpectedly. His body temperature was already higher thanks to his long run. She’d be cold and could’ve possibly hit her head or otherwise gotten injured during her fall. What if she hit the water wrong and had broken a bone or something?
Shit. Shit. Shit. Why the hell had he scared her like that?
Mark pushed ahead, jumping into the waves. He dove under where it got deeper and dropped off, easily swimming farther out into the Pacific. His team trained in all sorts of conditions, but fortunately it was a beautiful day, with relatively calm waters.
He surfaced when he got near where she’d been standing on the pier, looking around. Treading water was almost second nature for Mark, but it scared the hell out of him not knowing where the blonde woman was. Could she swim? Was she hurt?
“Hello!” he yelled out, looking around. The water slapped against the wooden pylons, and he spotted the dress she’d been holding floating about ten yards away. “Hey! Where are you?” he yelled, his gaze quickly scanning the area.
Suddenly he saw her head come above water, gasping for air, and then go back under. Mark cursed and swam quickly toward her, his muscular arms and legs propelling him through the ocean. He probably should’ve dialed 911 before rushing in after the woman, but he knew he could get to her quickly and then call for help after they were both safely on shore. He was trained in first aid and had hauled his buddies to safety more than once on missions. That didn’t stop the worry coursing through him now. She wasn’t a Navy SEAL, trained to endure various conditions. She’d accidentally fallen off the pier when he’d scared her.
“Hang on, sweetheart,” he murmured, kicking harder as he spotted her struggling. She surfaced again, sputtering when he was just a few feet away, before finally losing consciousness and starting to slip beneath the surface.
“Damn it,” he muttered as he lost sight of her. Glancing back toward shore, he didn’t see anyone else around to yell out for help. His eyes scanned the water, and suddenly he spotted her blonde hair floating a few feet away. Mark reached out and snagged one of her arms, pulling her toward him as he treaded water. Her body was limp, her lips already turning slightly blue.
Clutching her against his body, he slid one hand under her head, holding it above water as he ducked down. Mark’s lips pressed against her cold ones, and he blew a breath into her mouth. He needed to get her to shore and start CPR. Nothing would be effective until they were on solid ground. He attempted one more breath as he treaded water and then began swimming as fast as he could, towing her along with him.
The salty Pacific slapped against the pylons of the pier, and he kicked harder, easily moving through the waves with the unconscious woman.
His SEAL team had trained for scenarios significantly more dire than this—rescue missions in dangerous waters during the dead of night. In helocast ops, the helicopter hovered right above choppy waters as the SEALs or other Special Ops teams jumped in to get to the survivor and hoist them to safety. A calm, sunny day in San Diego was nothing compared to their training simulations.
He didn’t like the fact that she was unconscious though, helpless if not for him.
As he got closer to shore, Mark got his footing on the shifting sand and easily lifted the woman up into his arms, charging through the shallow water. She was slender and much smaller than him, which made the job easy. Hauling around his own muscular teammates in full gear was a hell of a lot more challenging.
Her body was too cold though, and he couldn’t even appreciate her gorgeous curves in that damn red bikini anymore. Not when she was limp in his arms. Mark needed to call 911 and get her to a hospital. He jogged onto the sand, laying her down by his things. She looked so fragile and too damn pale, her blonde hair tangled around her face. And she’d fallen off the pier because he’d accidentally startled her.
He quickly started chest compressions, ducking to give her lifesaving breaths. She was small, and he didn’t want to hurt her, but damn. He needed her to start breathing. When she started to sputter, Mark turned her head to the side, then grabbed his phone and dialed 911. After quickly giving the dispatchers the necessary information, he turned his attention back to her. She was coughing up water but hadn’t vomited, and he reached over to help hold her head. Maybe she hadn’t swallowed as much water as he feared, which was damn lucky. They’d have to check her out in the ER though to make sure her lungs were clear.
She coughed again, spitting out water, and Mark stared at the contrast of his muscular hands against her delicate features. One hand lightly rested on the slender column of her neck, and her coughing slowed down a fraction.
The woman lay limp on the beach, her head still to the side, slightly dazed. She started shivering, and Mark wanted to curse. All he had with him was his sweaty muscle tank. He needed to warm her up. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” he said, blinking as she turned her head back and her light blue eyes met his. He brushed some of her wet hair back from her face, still hovering over her. “I just called 911, and they’re sending an ambulance. ETA is five minutes. I’ll stay with you.”
“C-c-cold,” she said weakly.
“I know, honey. I don’t have a towel or anything with me.” He grabbed his damp shirt from the sand, trying to at least wipe some of the water droplets off her arms and bare skin. It was kind of gross to be rubbing her with his sweat-drenched shirt, but if he dried her limbs she wouldn’t feel as cold.
“In my bag.”
That’s right. She had a straw tote bag filled with things.
He glanced up at the pier, gauging how quickly he could run over and then get back to her, and nodded. She’d need her things anyway when the ambulance arrived. Hopefully she had her wallet or some form of identification. Plus, she’d had a cell phone. When she was feeling better, no doubt she’d want to call someone. A friend. Boyfriend. Whatever. “I’ll grab it. Be right back.”
Mark jumped up and sprinted toward the pier. Every step he took away from her felt like a mistake. He’d just left a helpless woman alone on the beach. Granted, a towel would certainly help to ease her shivering, and maybe she had more clothes with her. He crossed the sand in moments and then was running across the wooden slats toward the end of the pier. They were warm in the sun beneath his bare feet. Her bag was right where she’d left it, near the edge. He heard sirens wailing in the distance, still too far away for his liking, and grabbed her belongings. Stuffing her dainty sandals into her tote, he gripped it tightly and ran back down the pier. He wasn’t cold at all, despite the cool water they’d both just been in, but he also had much more muscle mass than her.
She had a slim build save for her womanly curves. And she’d nearly drowned. Shock itself could be causing her body to shake. Getting back to her as quickly as possible was his only priority at the moment.
The woman had scared the shit out of him, and he didn’t even know her. Mark rummaged through her bag as he jogged back over, pulling out her towel. He dropped to the ground, kneeling in the sand beside her, and began drying her off with the towel. She didn’t protest, just let him rub her arms and legs as she lay there weakly. She still looked too cold, and he wrapped the towel around her upper body. It was damp now but would at least stop the cut of the ocean breeze against her skin. He had half a mind to wrap her in his arms and warm her with his own body heat, but an ambulance and firetruck were pulling into the parking lot, lights flashing and sirens wailing.
He glanced back at her for a beat and briskly rubbed her towel-covered arms up and down with his hands, trying to warm her up. “Th-thanks,” she murmured, still seeming slightly dazed. Mark pulled his socks and sneakers on, tugging his shirt over his head. He didn’t know what the hell he was planning, but he wanted to be ready. It’s not like he was going to jump in the ambulance with a woman he didn’t know. Who was to say she’d even want that? He sure as hell planned to follow it to the hospital though and make sure she was okay.
Damn.
He didn’t even know this girl’s name and already felt responsible for her.
She blinked up at him, looking confused by the sirens and commotion in the parking lot. “You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted in a low voice.
The color was returning to her face and lips, but she still seemed too pale. When he’d pressed his mouth to hers earlier to administer two breaths, he’d been focused only on getting her breathing again. But now he was looking closer and noticing her soft skin and the fullness of her pink lips. She was even prettier up close than when he’d watched her posing on the pier. The woman had a light dusting of freckles across just the tops of her cheeks, which made her look even younger. Far too innocent for a man like him.
She smiled weakly at Mark. “You scared me. That’s why I fell in the ocean.”
“Touché. I didn’t think you saw me jogging toward you though, and it looked like you were about to change....” He let his voice trail off. She looked slightly embarrassed, and there was no reason for him to make her feel uncomfortable. Hell. Not that any red-blooded male wouldn’t have loved to see her stripping off her bikini top, baring her breasts, but he wasn’t a dick. She hadn’t realized she had an audience, and he sure the hell wasn’t going to watch a woman undress while she was unaware of his presence.
“What were you doing taking all those pictures anyway?” he asked, glancing up to see the medics coming toward them carrying a stretcher. They were moving down the steps, taking in the scene before them.
“It’s kind of silly,” she murmured. “I just needed some more shots to post.”
Mark nodded, something familiar prickling at the back of his mind. “Do you always come to the beach alone so early in the morning?”
“No. I’m just visiting San Diego for a couple weeks. I should call my brother.”
Alarm bells starting going off in Mark’s head. His SEAL team buddy Tyler “Trigger” Howard had a sister coming to town soon. He’d seen a picture or two of Everly on social media, but she’d always been heavily made up. The photos had filters on them as well, showing off her polished yet fake persona to the world. It couldn’t be the same woman though. Although Trigger’s sister was young and blonde, she wasn’t coming for a few more days. He’d just seen his teammate during training yesterday and last night when they’d grabbed drinks at Salty Sunset, a local bar they frequented. Certainly, he’d have mentioned if his sister was in town. Plus, despite the selfies she’d just been taking, this woman didn’t seem as fake as Tyler’s sister.
This woman was just...innocent in some ways. Pretty. The sexy poses she’d been making did actually seem like something Everly would do though for her social media job. He’d only seen a couple of photos, but hell. This woman couldn’t be her.
The EMS team rushed over to them, crouching down in the sand beside the blonde woman. Mark stood, backing out of their way as he told one of the medics what had happened. The others were checking her pulse and vitals, getting ready to load her onto the stretcher.
“What’s your name, ma’am?” one of the women asked as another barked out her vitals.
The firetruck was already pulling out of the lot, and Mark watched as a lone car pulled up. It was still early, but within the next hour or so, more people would be coming to the beach. He hated to think what would’ve happened if she’d fallen off the pier with no one else around.
Then again, he was the one who’d startled her. She wouldn’t have needed rescuing if she’d never fallen in.
His gaze shifted to the blonde again as they lifted her onto the stretcher. The warming blanket they’d covered her with made him feel an inkling better. At least she wasn’t outright shaking anymore. She still looked too damn weak and fragile though. One of the EMTs was talking into her radio, notifying the emergency room of their pending arrival. Another medic had an oxygen mask ready to put over the woman’s mouth and nose, but she was shaking her head, trying to answer the question.
“I couldn’t hear you. What’s your name, hun?” the woman asked again.
The woman cleared her throat, coughing slightly. “Everly,” she said weakly. “Everly Howard.”
Mark’s stomach dropped.
