Tangled Pursuit (3 page)

Tal had never been envious of Alexa. She’d seen her sister fall in and out of love several times. She didn’t know how her sister had a heart big enough to handle all those breakups, because she certainly couldn’t have done it. Alexa was made of stronger stuff than she, Tal decided. She had a Teflon heart. Tal wished she did, but it wasn’t going to happen this lifetime.

She remembered how she’d cried in her bedroom, heartbroken that no one had asked her to the junior prom. Her father had come to her, placed his arm around her, and hugged her. He’d told her she was like the Ugly Duckling in the fable. And fables, myths, and fairy tales were big in their global family. Like the little duck, he’d told her gently, drying her tears with his handkerchief, Tal would grow up and become a beautiful swan when she reached adulthood.

That night was forever etched on Tal’s memory. Her mother had then come in and sat on the other side of her, her arm around her waist, dabbing her tears with a crochet-edged linen embroidered handkerchief, telling her she was beautiful.

At that time, Tal didn’t believe it, but it meant the world to her that her parents were there, giving her emotional support when she felt so abandoned. She had always been a tomboy. Her Greek cousin Angelo, her mother told her, was just like her: tall, rangy, athletic, and passionate. She even had Angelo’s green eyes. Her mother shared that Angelo had been slow to mature too, but when he did, he was strikingly handsome and pursued by women the world over. And of course, he was rich, Tal thought. And her cousin Angelo was still gorgeous, even now, at age fifty, happily married to Maria.

When she looked in the mirror, Tal didn’t see a beautiful woman. Oh, she was attractive, she guessed, but she loathed cosmetics and never got her fingernails painted or cared about fashion trends like her mother and Alexa did. Somehow, it just hadn’t rubbed off on her. She’d always been an outdoors girl, happier in nature than being locked indoors, which she hated.

Tal came back to the present. Where was Wyatt Lockwood, the larger-than-life Texan? He was good at firing off one-liners, too. No wonder he was called “Gunslinger” by his SEAL team. Everyone in a SEAL time had a nickname. The chief of the platoon was the one who awarded such monikers, and her nemesis had earned his in a hot firefight, she had heard, a decade earlier. Her mouth turned down as she scanned the thousands of men and women in the huge indoor chow hall. Where was he? Tal swore she could feel him watching her, skin prickling on her left back shoulder.

That wouldn’t be unusual. In fact, Wyatt had shadowed her life like the black ops SEAL he was for the last three years. In some ways, he was like Matt: tall; lanky; easygoing; a big Texas smile on his well-shaped mouth; large, predatory gray eyes usually filled with some private amusement and the belief that he was God’s gift to women.

She was one of the few on base who had escaped his snare.

Tal suddenly found the area where the SEALs usually sat, and, just as she expected, there was Lockwood with his men. As a chief, he was a leader and a mission specialist, and took excellent care of his platoon. She couldn’t fault Wyatt Lockwood for his military record. No, it was what he did to her that drove her nuts.

The bastard was such a smooth talker and such a big tease, he made her blush in front of everyone. He’d never touched her, but he certainly knew how to get to her. That and the look he always gave her, the meaning of which was obvious: he wanted to bed her.

Right. Sure.
Hell would freeze over first. The Gunslinger had quite a reputation here on Bagram, going after the best-looking women on base.

Everyone knew he didn’t take no for an answer—until he’d met Tal. She was like a smooth brick wall he couldn’t even get a foothold to climb. Tal had already known love, and she wasn’t about to take anything less. Her one serious relationship had been with Marine Corps sniper Sergeant Brian Collier. He’d died nine months after they’d met on an op in the Hindu Kush, breaking her heart and—almost—her spirit.

That was years ago, and Tal had sworn never to get involved with a military man again. Not ever.

CHAPTER 2

C
HIEF
W
YATT
L
OCKWOOD
kept his gaze averted but was still able to find Captain Talia Culver, who stood restively in the chow line. She was with her brother, Matt, and her sister, Alexa. He knew Matt well because they’d worked together on a number of black ops missions over the years. Alexa was an unknown simply because she was an Air Force pilot and he was a ground-pounder.

As he hungrily scooped up his second helping of six eggs, along with a tray piled high with bacon and toast, he smiled to himself. His “animals,” the other SEALs in his platoon, had their heads down, concentrating on wolfing down as much protein their empty stomachs could hold.

But he had other fish to fry. Namely, Tal. Damn, she was an Amazon-warrior knockout. Of course, he’d never tell her that. She’d get royally pissed off, turn on her heel, and leave him in a huff without another word. She was like that, quick to give him an icy glare. She didn’t have the time of day for him, which her body language had told him again and again—for three years, in fact.

He watched Tal and her sister, noting that Tal was taller than most women, although Alexa was only two inches shorter than her. Tal had a lean body that he found himself fantasizing about on far too many nights. Despite her height, she couldn’t have hidden her femininity if she tried.

Granted, out here in the badlands, women didn’t wear makeup or perfume—especially a sniper like Tal. The scent would carry on the wind, straight to the Taliban. They’d follow it and discover her hiding place. He couldn’t even think about what might happen after that.

Turning to his breakfast, he shoveled more eggs into his mouth, delighting in the line of sight he had on the woman he wanted in his bed—one way or another.

Wyatt had always danced away from serious, long-term relationships. Hell, he’d seen too many SEAL marriages fail horribly. A 90 percent divorce rate didn’t offer him the odds he’d need to even consider the idea, which was why he kept his hookups light and short-term.

He often told himself that he was doing women a favor by walking away in the morning. To lead a woman on by making her think there was hope for a serious relationship would be a dark falsehood. SEALs who were in love, he thought, had to lie to themselves about their odds of keeping a marriage together, given their brutal rotation cycle and the fact that they were often away from home for six months or more at a time. He wouldn’t put himself or a woman he wanted to love through that kind of minefield. Wyatt was always upfront with a woman who interested him—that it was for a night of sex, and that was it. If she agreed, they both walked away satisfied and happy the next morning.

Wyatt drank his coffee, watching Tal smile at Matt. He’d actually gotten to know Matt very well because SEALs and CAG/Delta Force often worked together on many overlapping HVT missions.

Because he liked the guy a lot, it only added to Tal’s appeal. After all, someone with as great a guy as Matt for a brother had to be pretty special herself. As the years rolled by, Wyatt counted Matt like a younger brother to him. They worked together often. The Delta Force sergeant was reliable, loyal, and guarded everyone’s back. That counted in Wyatt’s world. Plus, he liked Matt’s easygoing nature, which was a lot like his own. He often teased Matt that he was his twin but they’d been separated at birth and sent to a different family. Matt laughed and agreed.

Finishing off his eggs, Wyatt turned to the strawberry jam he’d dropped onto his aluminum tray. There was enough there to kill a horse, but Wyatt knew from experience that protein and sugar were two of a SEAL’s best friends when either going on an op or just coming off one.

Wyatt had been out for twelve exhausting days on a long direct-action mission, or DA, with seven other team members. They had all dropped at least ten pounds in weight, but now they were going to wolf down enough food to make up for it.

He watched an animated Tal tease her brother and sister and grinned as he saw her issue a rare smile in their direction. He liked her smile. She had an oval face, high cheekbones, and a strong, stubborn jawline. Yeah, she was stubborn, all right. Why wouldn’t she come down off that icy cliff she always sat on and at least be civil toward him?

Even with her long, black hair in a ponytail, she was all woman. Wyatt knew she pulled at least two sniper ops a month, even though she was in charge of her sniper unit here at Bagram. Tal wasn’t an officer who sat behind a desk; she needed to be out in the field with her people.

That was another thing he liked about her. And sometimes, he’d gotten lucky and run into Tal and her spotter, Jay Caldwell, out in the Hindu Kush. While Jay was cordial, Tal always seemed pissed off at him because his team was in
her
territory. He was running through her area, creating a disturbance, she said, messing up her hide, where she was camouflaged and couldn’t be seen by the enemy. Hell, there was nothing to disturb except rocks, brush, and those fucking goatherds.

She would sit in a chosen hide for days, even weeks, if necessary, with her .300 Win-Mag trained on that Af-Pak border, waiting for her HVT to show up. Yeah, she had patience to burn all right. Wyatt just wished she’d lose some of it where he was concerned.

Didn’t the woman ever get horny? Hungry for sex? God knew he did! But then, she was a woman, and her hormones were different from a man’s, although he did know plenty of women who liked having sex. Too bad Tal wasn’t more like them.

Wyatt had once heard Matt hint that there were two main reasons Tal wasn’t interested in him. First, he was enlisted and she was an officer. The UCMJ rules were very clear that it was taboo for men and women in those categories to get together. Of course, Wyatt never worried about that. SEALs had a hell of a reputation for breaking rules in the military and living to tell about it.

In fact, he knew plenty of officers and enlisted here on this base who would eagerly fraternize with one another. The key, of course, was keeping it hidden from a superior officer or individuals who might want to make trouble for the couple. If an officer was caught fraternizing with an enlisted, his or her career could go to hell pretty damn fast.

Maybe he could convince Tal Culver that he’d personally guarantee that no one on this base would
ever
find them out. He’d say whatever he had to in order to get her into bed. Then again, he’d have to get her to talk to him first, so the chances were slim to none that he’d have to bother with guarantees!

The other reason Matt had given him was cause for serious concern. He’d told Wyatt that Tal had lost the man she loved, a Marine sniper, six years ago. The couple had been deeply in love, Matt confided.

Wyatt had wanted to continue their conversation and was frustrated that he’d have to wait to learn more—if Matt was in the mood then to continue his confidences. Maybe she was still grieving. Wyatt had never been in love, so he didn’t understand someone having to work through years of grief.

The strangest thing was, he had a feeling—call it intuition—that deep down, Tal actually respected him. That was the thing about being a SEAL, working for years under life-and-death conditions. A SEAL’s intuition was so developed, it often flew off the charts. He’d seen intuition save a man’s life, and Wyatt’s psychic ability was damn near in the paranormal range. His platoon knew about his gift and always deferred to him on a DA when he told them to stop, that there was a Taliban ambush ahead of them. And he was never wrong.

He watched Tal lead the way from the chow line to the opposite end of the hall from where he and his team sat, and smiled. Yeah, she knew exactly where he was sitting and was going to avoid him big-time. Pushing the emptied tray away from him, he picked up his mug of coffee and finished it off. God, how he’d missed good, strong espresso. Six months without a sip of it had been starting to stress him out.

Wyatt watched Tal move between the tables. His body responded as he silently observed her. She had one of the nicest-shaped asses he’d ever seen on a woman. He could tell by the way she walked, the way her loose-fitting Marine outfit flowed over her hips, that she would be exciting to explore. His hands itched.
Damn.
He had it bad for his ice queen.

Yet, when Wyatt did manage to snag her attention and get a few words in before she’d turn on her heel, he detected genuine interest in her eyes. That gave him hope; he suspected she was attracted to him but would face a firing squad before admitting it.

Which was why he continued to pursue her. Sooner or later, he was going to wear that wild filly down.

Rising from the table, he told his men he’d see them back at HQ. Sauntering down one of the polished aisles, a drop holster on each thigh, his Ka-Bar strapped to his right calf, Wyatt ignored the curious looks from the civilians and soldiers. A SEAL stood out precisely because of what he wore.

He’d shucked down to his SEAL day uniform of a desert blouse and cammies, leaving his Kevlar vest and rifle back in his locker at HQ. Now he wished he’d at least showered, trimmed up his beard, and made himself look halfway presentable before flying into Tal’s face again.

On the other hand, her brother, Matt, looked just as dirty and grungy as he did, and she clearly wasn’t repelled by his close proximity. Maybe, Wyatt hoped, with her family here, she’d at least be polite and let him try to charm her.

Tal’s neck prickled with warning. Oh, damn! Her back was toward most of the chow hall, and she could see out the two windows on either side of them. Matt had said he’d bite the bullet and sit with his back to the window, a huge no-no in the black ops world, but he’d done it because Tal was there and she could see any threat or attack from the Taliban that might come their way. And Bagram had been hit many times before with mortars and hit squads who managed to get under the wire to do damage. It paid to remain constantly alert.