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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.
Chapter 4
THE WATER LAPPED AT Callie’s feet, and she sucked in a breath, inhaling the salty Hawaiian ocean breeze. The air felt soft on her skin, blowing her long, blonde hair back with each gentle waft. Palm trees swayed in the distance, children’s shrieks of laughter carried over the sand, and warm sunshine beat down on her. An afternoon at the beach was calming. Soothing. She turned to walk along the shore, trying to remain in the moment. To just breathe. The sand was firm beneath her bare feet, grounding her. She looked around, squinting in the bright sunshine, and then slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. Perfect beaches surrounded her. Happy families. Vacationing couples.
She was thousands of miles away from the airport in Manila—safe. Free.
She stopped, staring out across the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean as the wake from an incoming wave washed around her ankles. Moving to Hawaii had been the right thing to do. A vacation of sorts that turned into home in a tropical paradise where she could start over. Her travel blog and social media channels were dark. Her bank account was dwindling, but she’d find some type of work to do on the island. Something simple and easy.
No one would find her here. She might not really be living her life anymore, but she wasn’t in danger.
She was fine. Everything was fine.
CALLIE WALKED ACROSS the parking lot at the grocery store in Oahu that afternoon, having the weirdest feeling that she was being watched. She looked around the area near her, not recognizing anyone. She barely knew anyone on the island anyway—a couple of neighbors. That was it. The plastic bag she was carrying bit into her hand, and she shifted it, testing the strength of her arm. Her injury had long since healed, but she still favored her other arm.
She slid into her cute little Mini Cooper and locked the doors, smiling as she set her bags of food on the passenger seat. She was in Hawaii for goodness sakes. A dream destination. She’d picked out ripe fruit and some delicious looking veggies at the market. Some protein. Rice. She’d make a stir-fry for dinner later on, maybe sit on her balcony to eat so she could listen to the sounds of the ocean.
Maybe she could blog about food. She could photograph exotic fruits and dishes, never needing to show her face on camera. Biting her lip, she frowned. Callie had purposefully spent the last several months refusing to even think about the ordeal she’d been through. She was no longer traveling around the world by choice but could start back up at any time. She was just...living in the present. Healing.
A loud voice outside her window had her glancing to the left, and she blinked, taking in a calming breath. She was safe here.
She had a flood of emails to get through when she got back to her apartment—businesses asking when she’d be blogging again. Followers on her social media channels bemoaning that she’d taken everything down—the photos, the stories, the reels she’d saved for people to go back and watch. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Many of her memories about the day of the hijacking were hazy. She’d met a new friend at the airport. She’d boarded the plane.... Something had happened in the cockpit. Something important. But they’d hurt her, and she’d done everything she could to block out those memories. To simply forget any of it had ever happened.
Callie pushed the button to start the engine, backing out of her parking space. There was no sense in trying to remember details she’d pushed to the back of her mind. No sense in reliving her worse nightmare.
She drove through the parking lot, her gaze landing on a muscular guy standing near his SUV. He looked oddly familiar, his height and broad shoulders catching her notice. He was an attractive man. As he glanced her way, she did a double-take, watching him in surprise. He had sunglasses on, so she couldn’t see his entire face, but alarm bells were going off in her head.
Callie gripped the steering wheel of her Mini Cooper so tightly, her fingers were turning white. She blinked, trying to get a grip on the shock washing over her. Was she hallucinating? Had she simply conjured up the man she’d just seen in her mind?
In an instant, she’d been back on that hijacked plane. Only this time, it wasn’t the memories of the terrorists that had shaken her to her very core. She wasn’t being dragged into the cockpit, crying and shaking. She wasn’t screaming as they roughly held her, breaking her arm.
The memories coursing through her right now were of her savior. The man who’d seen her in tears after his team of commandos had stormed the plane. Her guy was big and strong, and somehow, even amidst the chaos, he’d honed in on her. Sensed her fear. The guy’s muscled hand had gently landed on her shoulder as the other passengers pushed by, and as her tears had fallen even more, he’d gruffly said that he’d help her. Before she could fully process what was happening, his big hands had been at her waist, safe rather than threatening, and he’d lifted her onto the emergency slide, shouting out orders to someone below.
