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He prefaced his response by letting a full grin flash through. “Home turf, kitten.” Then quickly but soundly kissing her. “Hommmme tuuuurf.”
***
“Captain Franzen?”
He smiled before even answering. To be honest, he hadn’t stopped smiling since they left the California coastline behind, but this moment was worthy of an even bigger smirk.
The awe in Tracy’s voice, as she gazed at the gentle waves, azure sky, and tawny shore of Barking Sands Beach, was already the perfect start for a Kaua’i-style twilight. She looked more incredible than he’d anticipated in one of the light cotton dresses he’d asked Lino to pick up on the way to the base, with a few adorable freckles already appearing across her nose.
By the gods, she belonged here.
All right, maybe not right here. Though the base was, as bases went, pretty damn cool with its oceanfront cottages, it was still a military facility, offering the Navy’s barest fundamentals for operating the globe’s largest missile training and testing range. And there was the whole thing with being around so many squids, but he had to overlook that sand in his oyster at this point, as well.
Right now, only two priorities mattered.
Keeping Tracy alive. And learning why Sol Wrightman had been in on the plans to achieve the opposite.
A protective growl climbed his throat as he responded, “Yes, Madame President?”
Her lips pursed but her eyes smiled. In the setting sun, their gray irises were as bright as the silver foam atop the waves. “I’m enjoying your home turf advantage so much, I’m not even going to glare you down about that.”
He let the growl become a low laugh, hooking an arm over her shoulder before smashing a kiss to her temple. “And the nap you got in on Ethan’s private plane has nothing to do with it?”
“The nap you interrupted?”
“By repaying your ‘adulation’ from the oak grove?” He tossed down a skeptical side-eye. “Didn’t hear a lot of complaining, kitten—unless that shit suddenly sounds a lot like ‘Oh yes, Sir. Yes, Sir. Fuck me harder with your tongue! Harder.”
She giggled to the point of snorting, retaliating with a fierce scratch across his back. “Hey. While the kid is away, Mom needs to play.”
“Outstanding motto.” It finished on a lusty snarl as the wind tossed a bunch of her auburn waves into his face. They smelled like the vanilla shampoo she’d used during her shower at the ranch, bringing back every moment of what she’d done to him in the oak grove right before it—as if he needed a reminder, after recalling what he’d done for “repayment”. Good times. Fucking good times. Amazing times. He missed them as if eight months had passed instead of eight hours. Craved them. Craved her. Hungered for her screams in his ears, her taste on his lips, her heat in his soul…
His body readily agreed. His senses were alive with her. His heartbeat practically matched their steps. His dick throbbed, more than ready to support a tromp to one of the palm trees on the berm, where he could hike her dress around her waist, her legs around his waist, and get inside her until the moon was high and the stars caught fire from their passion…
“Glad you approve, ku’uipo.” They strolled a few more steps, their feet mushing into the sand as the rising tide rushed the shore. “So…not missing Luke as much?”
“Of course I miss him.” She tempered it with a tiny laugh. “Half my soul is gone.” Then sobered it with a sigh. “But he’s safe and happy at the ranch with Ethan and Ava—and Sam is personally flying in Mia’s parents to reunite with her too. It’s a win-win for all.”
“Except momma bear,” he pointed out.
“Yeah.” She sniffed, clearly fighting back tears. “But momma bears learn to deal with this kind of shit.”
He tugged her a little closer, as much for his own comfort as hers. Watching how this separation affected Tracy, if only for a few days from a son who was happy and alive, gouged him with remorse for what his beautiful makuahine must be enduring. To this very minute, the woman who’d given him life, in more senses of the word than one, still thought she’d memorialized her eldest son three days ago. She wasn’t dealing with it well, either. Lino’s minimal words on the subject, when he’d finally gotten around to saying anything at all, were blatant as blood on rice paper about it.
He steeled his jaw.
He couldn’t mourn the unchangeable circumstances right now.
Forward.
Move forward. Focus on what youcan change.
That meant no more playing South Pacific with his adorable wahine. Time to get his ass back up to the cottage, where Lino was working to transform the living room into a miniature command center capable of helping him comb out every speck of cyberspace lice there was about Sol Wrightman.
Wasn’t going to be just a two-man job, thanks to Tait Bommer and Kellan Rush. The attached-at-the-hip camarades, once his ace sniper team for missions, had expanded their skill set considerably since joining SHRC, an ultra-elite team of covert operatives made up of the most tenacious bastards from all the branches of Special Forces. Franz had hated signing the pair’s transfer requests to the Sharks but was still happy as hell for them, since the opportunity allowed them to stay in Hawaii, where they both found personal fulfillment. The fact that they found it with the same woman, who had been like a third little sister since he and she were kids, had definitely been the harder “paperwork” to “approve”—but when Lani Kail arrived with the guys a few hours ago, Franz admitted he’d never seen her look happier. She’d found her unique version of true happiness—and who was he to call bullshit if that involved two lovers instead of one? Hadn’t he been closer to heaven than ever just a day ago, getting to fill up his subbie as an audience of dozens approved?
A person didn’t get to pick how they were hard-wired. Hell, the wires were usually the easiest part.
The hard part?
