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“You’ve heard war stories,” she prevaricated. “I’ve got nothing new to add.”
“I haven’t heard your story,” he said. “Although I can guess. I’ve had missions head south. I’ve lost guys.”
He figured she heard the unspoken too because she nodded her head. He’d never seen her this vulnerable or open, like the flashback had wiped out all of her defenses. She was good at closing off her emotions and keeping her reactions hidden, even when they were having sex and she was coming. He was no open book, but no matter what the circumstance, Mia always kept a little distance between her and others. Sometimes, it was just more obvious, like right now when they were beneath the old pier, two hundred yards of sand between them and the Pleasure Pier.
“I’d like to hear your story,” he said again.
“Okay. Have it your way,” she huffed impatiently, clearly feeling better. She fingered the edge of his T-shirt, stalling for time, and he was, actually holding his breath, hoping she’d open up to him. Because, just possibly, he had feelings for her. It was an astonishing truth. Especially because when he thought about it a little bit more, sitting underneath the old pier and holding her in his arms, he did have a name for those feelings.
He loved her.
That scared the hell out of him. Still, he didn’t have to tell her. They had plenty of secrets, so if he had one more, that was okay, and not just because she was vulnerable and trusting him to keep her safe. He’d do that. It went without saying. But this was Mia.
Then she looked up at him, eyes angry and scared, and he lost a little bit of his heart all over again.
* * *
MIA WASN’T ENTIRELY clear on how she’d ended up where she was. The sitting on Tag’s lap part was good, but she wasn’t happy the details of the journey from the Pleasure Pier to their current refuge were fuzzy. Or, more accurately, nonexistent. She’d checked out.
“I hate this,” she said. “Being broken. Freaking out over a popped balloon. I handled incoming fire, and now I can’t handle a kid’s toy?”
Tag was smart enough to ignore the rhetorical question.
“Sucks.” He rubbed her back, his big hands warm through her thin shirt. She’d picked out a pretty, loose tank with little blue ribbons for straps for their date. She might have had a fantasy—or six—about Tag undoing those ribbons. She had a new bra, too, a black lace number pushing her girls up. She’d wanted them to have a good night together, a normal night double dating with Piper and Cal. Instead, they were sitting underneath a pier.
“You don’t want to hear it.”
“I think I do.”
It hadn’t been her fault, and there was nothing she could have done. She wasn’t omniscient. Was, in fact, damn good at her job, but the insurgent had concealed the IED in the middle of the road—where anyone, not just GI Jane and her team, could have driven over it—and...boom.
She hadn’t even been the driver. That had been Dylan. She’d been riding shotgun with J.T. and Frankie in the backseat. One minute, they’d been bumping down the highway, and, in the next moment, the IED detonated in an all-too-familiar roar of sound. The whole world spun as dirt exploded upward, small stones falling in a pitter-patter-like rain in the summer as the blast ripped the Hummer apart. Metal and other parts—parts she wasn’t thinking about ever—crashed down, smoke and dust rolling away in a cloud of brown. Usually, she saw the telltale column from down the road. Usually, she was the one running to pick up the pieces. Not that day.
Her ears had rung in a world gone strangely silent. Later she’d learned the IED they’d driven over had been a shoddy piece of crap and had detonated a second too late to take out the entire Humvee. Instead, when it had gone off, it had caught the rear end of the Humvee.
“We weren’t even on a mission. We were headed back to base and some R & R. The guys were in a good mood. We’d be shipping stateside in another two months, and we were almost done.”
“You were ready to go home.”
Base had been home of sorts, but she’d been ready for a change.
“We did our job and we did it well. If we were needed, we’d have stayed. You know how it goes.”
The waves rushed in by their feet and then retreated. Other than the occasional voice passing by, they were alone. Most of Discovery Island seemed to be on the Pleasure Pier. The newer pier ran parallel to this older, smaller one. During the daytime, it attracted fishermen. After dark, however, it belonged to the lovers. At least they were quiet. No one overhead was having wild wall-banger sex. Just the occasional murmur of voices and then the longer pauses. Somewhere above them, people were kissing. Touching. She wanted the same kind of contact.
