His Last Defense

“You have fifty seconds and then I want you on deck, Holt,” barked his commander. “Over.”

The sea receded and Dylan shoved his way along the slick deck, propelling himself forward across its steep slant. “Roger that.”

He would get Nolee out. End of story.

Descending as fast as he dared, he fought the wind and dropped down into the hull again. Icy water made his breath catch even with the benefit of the dry suit. Nolee should have been out of here long before now.

“I’ve almost got it.” Her strained voice emerged from blue lips. Her movements were jerky as she twisted wire around the still gushing pipe.

His eardrums banged with his heartbeat.

She was losing motor function. Hypothermia was already setting in. With only thirty seconds left, he made an executive decision.

“It’s over, Nolee. Come with me now.”

He would haul her out by force if necessary. Braced himself for just that.

Yet when she opened her mouth, her head lolled. Her eyelids dropped. Reacting on instinct, he grabbed her limp form before she crumpled into the freezing water.

His throat closed, and he had to make himself breathe. He hauled her up and out of the hull and across the deck where a rescue strop dangled. Damn, damn, damn. His hands weren’t cooperating, his own motor function feeling the effects of this cursed sea. Once he’d tethered them together, he gave his watching flight mechanic a thumbs-up for the hoist. The boat flung them sideways, careening over the rail.

Swinging, their feet skimmed the deadly swells. The line jerked them from harm and sped them up through the stinging air. He tightened his arms around her. Imagined them made of steel. With only a tether connecting her to him, he couldn’t lose his grip. It was the difference between saving her life and causing her to fall to her death.

As they rose, he forced himself not to look at her. He’d dreamed about that face too many times, even after he left Kodiak to forget her.

But he wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t hold her close. And heaven help him—no matter how much she’d gutted him nine years ago—he couldn’t deny she felt damned good in his arms.

2

NOLEE WAS LYING on warm, gritty sand, water circling around her toes, breathing in the Alaskan summer fragrance of salt water and dense cedars. There was a delicious, decadent taste in her mouth—berries and chocolate, and possibly wine. She lifted her head and the afternoon sun glinted off the blue ocean so brightly, she had to squint through sparkles of light to see her feet in front of her.

Her toenails were painted a deep rose. Girly and sweet. Not her style at all. And the nail polish had even been applied well. No smudged cuticles or bumpy surfaces. Someone was lying next to her, propped up on his side. Someone she cared about, who made her laugh, with big feet, nails unvarnished and clipped.

Dylan.

He stroked her bare stomach with a firm hand, the circular touch languid, deliberate, filling her with teasing heat, a pleasant ache beginning between her thighs.

Somewhere in the distance, gulls cried and the cool ocean thundered as it crashed ashore, swirling up and over her calves, then suctioning her skin as it receded. A throaty chuckle sounded beside her. She curved toward it, her body fitting against Dylan’s instinctively, her toes curling in delight when his hand skimmed lower still, sliding along the edge of her bikini bottom.

“Nolee,” he whispered in her ear and she tipped back her head at the rich sound of his voice.

“Dylan,” she murmured, but could not be sure whether his name was flooding her thoughts or she had spoken it aloud.

“What are you thinking?”

She pressed her lips together. Stopped herself from revealing how she really felt and explaining why she’d been quiet on their summer outing. If Dylan left her, her heart would break, but he couldn’t know that.

She started to say something flippant, and then he reached around to cup her ass, bringing her hips to his, the heat of him emanating through the thin nylon of his shorts. Her skin burned fiercely against his everywhere they touched, and she was incapable of speech, or of thinking anything at all. Shivering hunger took hold. She craved more.

Skimming her hands up the curves of his strong arm, she absorbed the tension of the muscles beneath his hot skin. She glanced at his handsome warrior face. Reached to trace the straight bridge of his nose, to touch the scar just above his arched right eyebrow and the tiny dimple in his square chin. She met his scorching green gaze. He had that way of looking at her. Intently. Passionately. With heated promise, as if he knew all of her erotic fantasies and intended to make each one come true.

It undid her.

He lowered his face. “You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered directly into her ear, his warm lips grazing the sensitive lobe.

“Me, too,” she gasped as he continued stroking her, slowly, tantalizingly, eliciting a lush heady response to his touch so that her heart clattered.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his voice an edgy growl.

“You,” she groaned, a dizziness taking hold as her hand smoothed along his ridged abdomen. “I want you, Dylan. Always.”

She felt him brush the hair back from her temples. His unsteady fingers conveyed the same need that licked through her.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice insistent. Husky. Then he slid across her, inch by inch, like a tide, and she lay back so that she was flat on the sand, sinking into it.

In the sizzling afternoon, she could smell the sea on him, feel the faint grittiness of the salt on his skin as his muscular body shifted over hers, firm and solid. And then, she could feel his breath, the shocking, numbing firmness of his mouth a moment later as Dylan’s lips melted into hers.

He kissed her, slowly and tenderly, his weight easing onto her so that she was overwhelmed with lust, the hardness of his body against her. His lips lingered and sampled. Tasted and nibbled. When his tongue glided over hers, the sensual contact triggered waves of pleasure that rippled to her toes. Her fingertips.

She nipped at his lightly bristled jaw, his ears, her fingers brushing over his dark, close-cropped curls. He cradled her head as his mouth whispered along the sensitive length of her neck. The delicious caress stopped at the birthmark at the base of her throat. Lingered. Nerve endings short-circuited, flash-bang, beneath her skin.

She couldn’t possibly get enough of the feel of him.

“Dylan,” she moaned, her voice loud in her ears.

* * *

“NOLEE,” SHE HEARD him answer, his voice rising as if it were a question. Her lashes fluttered. Lifted. Dylan’s face swam into focus. He peered down at her, his pupils dilated, the black blotting out most of the green. His face pale.

She reached for him, needing him to anchor her when she suddenly felt so loopy. The effect of their incredible sexual chemistry, she supposed. She drew his face close and pressed her lips to his again, inhaling his sweet breath, feeling the heat of his skin as he responded to her, kissing her deeply. Ardently.

Adrift on this blissful current, her lashes fell to her cheeks. She felt Dylan tunnel his fingers through her damp hair and its weight surprised her. Took her aback.

They hadn’t gone swimming. Not yet. Or had they? Why couldn’t she remember?

She caressed his smooth jaw.

Smooth.

Her fingers stilled.

Then she noticed something else that wasn’t right. Something thick and heavy separated them.

A blanket. No. Blankets.

And the automated sound of beeping machines filled her ears, not the ocean, the salted air now smelling of antiseptic soap and disinfectant.

The dream or memory or whatever it was dissolved and vanished, like a reflection on water. Nolee’s thoughts sharpened, and she willed herself to open her heavy eyes.

She was in a small white box of a room lying on an uncomfortable mattress.

A hospital.

Not on the beach.

Not on her boat, either, because...

A strangled noise escaped her and she shoved Dylan in the chest, forceful enough to make him stumble back, hard realizations knocking through her.

...Because in this reality, Dylan no longer loved her.

* * *

“YOU!”

Dylan shoved his hands into the pockets of his olive-green flight suit and stared wordlessly at a furious Nolee. Sporadic bursts of noise filtered in from the corridor of Dutch Harbor’s medical clinic. A squeaky wheel, and the aroma of roast chicken, heralded the delivery of the evening meal to the small unit’s patients. Stale air hung as still and heavy as a tomb.

Why the hell had he just kissed her? He shouldn’t have angled in so close when she’d called his name. Tempted himself.

And had she meant it when she’d said she wanted him? Granted she wasn’t fully conscious...but she’d said always.

Not that he cared.

Shit. He cared.

He wanted her. The driving need to haul her back into his arms, feel the press of her lush curves through her thin hospital gown, thrummed inside. Made his stomach clench.

He drew in a ragged breath. Raked a hand over his hair. “I’ll get the doctor.”

“No!”

He halted at the door. Turned.

She leveraged herself up on her elbows and then sat up. The pallor of her skin alarmed him, and snapped him back to the bed where he gathered her small, rough hands in his.

“What are you doing here, kissing me? Why am I here?” In the room’s quiet, her soft voice, always at odds with her tough words, slid around him like a caress.

Good questions, both. At least he had an answer for the second one. As for why he’d kissed her, frustratingly, he’d been as unable to resist her as ever. He should’ve left with his flight crew after dropping her here and enjoyed his upcoming time off after a long shift. But he hadn’t been able to leave until he was assured of her recovery.

“You don’t remember the boat?”

Beneath the flicker of humming fluorescent lights, her dark eyes sparked. “I fixed the leak...” Her words trailed off like the last air from a deflating balloon and confusion crossed her face. “Right?”

He shook his head. “You were too late.”

She snatched her hands back. “No, I wasn’t.”

“You fainted. Hypothermia.” He gestured to the thermal heating blankets that concealed her gorgeous shape, the feel of her body imprinted on his muscle memory as clearly as the last time they’d made love on Summer Bay beach, nine years ago.

Her teeth appeared on her bottom lip. Worried it. Black brows slanted toward the small proud nose he’d always found sexy. “So the boat...” She swallowed the last of her words. Hard.

“Gone.”

She dropped her head in her hands. Moaned. It took everything in him not to gather her close and hold her as he had moments ago. Suddenly her lashes, thick and black, rose. She peered up at him. “My crew. Are they...?”

“Safe. Still pains in the ass, though. They’re in the waiting room and refuse to leave until they hear you’re okay.” He bit back a rueful smile as he recalled the ongoing battle between the boisterous fishermen and the nurses threatening to toss them out. If not for his military credentials, and his persistence, he might not have been allowed back here, either.

“They’re assholes. But they’re my assholes,” she said affectionately. She rolled her eyes at him, and in an instant their old connection slammed into him. He pictured the gritty young woman he’d worked alongside on his Uncle Bill’s crab-fishing boat. They’d gone from friendly rivals to friends, and then much more.

What were they now?

He wouldn’t stick around long enough to find out.

Her amused expression faded slightly, and she seemed to give herself a small shake. “Thank you for saving them.”

He rested his hip on the narrow bed and fiddled with the green plastic hospital tag around her wrist, turning it over and over, unable to resist skimming his thumb along the satin flesh there. Her pulse jumped against his fingertip. “Not you?”

“I told you to leave me be.” Her words escaped her in a breathy rush.

He caught and held her eye. “Not easy to do, Nolee.”

Her nostrils flared, and the small diamond stud he’d given her when they’d graduated high school glinted. “That wasn’t the case nine years ago.”

“You think that was easy?” He strode out of the way of a food service worker bearing a dinner tray and breathed in the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and chicken broth. Braced himself.

Get it together, man.

If you weren’t in Kodiak, you wouldn’t give her another thought.

Liar. If that were true, how the hell did he explain his nonstop thoughts of her over the years? The memories that refused to let him go, no matter how many miles he put between them. How hard he worked. The risks he took.

The squeak of the staff member’s sneakers grew muffled and then disappeared. Dylan crossed his arms over his chest, willing himself to follow the cafeteria worker out and away from the tempting woman who messed with his hard-won peace of mind.

“Why are you here, Dylan?”

“Transfer.” He turned to face her again. Knocked the emotion out of his voice. The hunger. Kept his tone crisp. “But it’s temporary. I’m shipping stateside as soon as my out-of-rotation-year assignment request is approved.”

“Of course you are.” A bitter note entered her voice. She raised her chin and pinned him with a look. “How long have you been in Kodiak? Have you seen your parents? Bill?”

“Three months and no.” He rocked back on his heels at her accusing expression. It wasn’t like he was to blame for his decade-long family estrangement.

She dipped a spoon into her soup, eyes still on his, and lifted a steaming mouthful to her lips. When her sexy mouth pursed, he felt himself harden. “So they have no clue you’re here.”

He cleared his throat. Dragged his wild thoughts back under control. “Wouldn’t make any difference if they did.”

“For who? Your parents love you.”

“They had a funny way of showing it.”

“You know they couldn’t help that. The business...”

“Was more important. Got it,” he said, thinking of the wilderness expedition touring company they ran that’d overtaken their lives and overshadowed his childhood.

His older brother, Robbie, had taken to exploring rugged terrain like a mountain goat, his father had proudly proclaimed, praising their golden child at every opportunity. As for Dylan, after an unforgettable viewing of The Guardian, he’d known on the spot he wanted to be a rescue swimmer and travel the world helping those in need. He and his old man butted heads nonstop about his reluctance to toe the line in the family business, about his attitude, about the way he tied his shoes, the way he breathed...about anything it’d seemed.

After one blowout fight too many, they’d palmed him off on his uncle, who’d given him a place to stay during school and a job on his crab-fishing boat. Since they hadn’t made one of his swim meets, missed his graduation, hell, just about everything, he’d decided to stop wasting his time missing parents he’d never really had and left Kodiak without another word when he’d gotten the call from the Coast Guard.

“That’s not true,” Nolee insisted. Her large extended family had always been a big part of her life. She’d never accepted his estrangement, a point of contention they’d had in their otherwise perfect relationship, along with her daredevil antics and unwillingness to leave Kodiak.

And her need to lock lips with his former best friend Craig.

He cleared his throat and his voice, when it emerged, sounded gruff. “Can I get you anything before I go?”

“A boat?”

One corner of her mouth lifted slightly, a grin-through-pain expression he’d glimpsed many times before. Nolee was the type to smile through a setback, laugh at an injury. It’d been the only way he’d known when she was really hurting. Despite everything, it bugged him that after growing up sleeping on family members’ couches and in shelters with her health-challenged single mother, she’d finally gotten what she’d always wanted—a place to call her own—and he’d played a part in her losing it.

Then again, if she hadn’t gambled on outrunning an unpredictable storm to take advantage of what he supposed had been an approved preseason run, she’d still have her boat.

Odds.

Nolee sure liked to play them. When she won, she won big, but when she lost...

He shoved the image of her sinking boat away. She was here now. Saved from her own worst instincts.

But who would be around to catch her the next time?

“Would you settle for Jell-O?” He pulled the clear wrap off the green, wiggling square on her tray. “And captain, huh? What you always wanted.”

Her eyes searched his. “Why are you really here?” She gestured with a sweep of her hand to the room around them, frowning.

Because I needed to see your eyes open.

He squashed that thought, along with the temptation to climb into that bed and warm her up in a way that would be much more enjoyable for both of them.

“Professional courtesy.”

She snorted. “My ass. Try again.”

“Want me to call Craig? Maybe you’d rather have him?” he asked instead, then nearly bit his tongue off.

Her mouth dropped open. She stared at him for a moment in charged silence. “Get out.”

He stepped forward, knowing he’d sounded like an ass, like the jilted boyfriend she’d turned him into, not the man who’d moved on with his life.

“Look, I’m...”

“You’re what, Dylan? You saved me and my men. Thank you, but your mission is done and I don’t need you anymore.”

He hung his head for a moment, then lifted his eyes to search hers. “No. You never did.”

Her gaze narrowed. Whatever she’d been about to say, however, was interrupted by a knock on the open door. A nurse bustled in and smiled at Nolee. “Ah. Good. Now I can tell your crew to hightail it out of here.”

“Goodbye, Nolee.” Dylan tipped his head to the nurse, cast a last look at Nolee and strode out the door.

Job done. Survivor’s health ensured. Now he could get on with his day. His life. And get it back on track, starting with putting in his transfer request to leave Kodiak ASAP before thoughts of Nolee wrecked his head again. He’d moved on, damn it. Today was a minor setback. A brief reminder of what could have been. Nothing more.

Three hours later, after catching the ferry back to Air Station Kodiak, he hung from a diving board at his base’s pool. He snapped off ten more pull-ups to complete his last set then let go, sinking to the bottom of the twenty-foot-deep end.

His body ached like he’d been hit by a truck and his chest burned. Sixty minutes of wind sprints, pull-ups and sit-ups. Another thirty jogging the track. An hour swimming. He should have exorcised his craving for Nolee by now. He gritted his teeth and pushed back against the instinct to surge to the top and drag air into his lungs. He stared up at the waving blue surface and envisioned the way she’d kissed him, her passionate response. She’d wanted him.

And he’d wanted her.

A swoosh sounded to his right as the shape of another service member plunged in beside him. Without missing a beat, the man shot him a quick middle finger then zipped to the surface, churning up the water with a lightning-fast crawl.

Anderson.

The newbie swimmer whose high-profile jeopardized mission three months ago had put the air station on alert and prompted them to assign Dylan to Kodiak to prevent more mishaps.

Sure. The commander had fed Dylan a line or two to sweeten the raw deal he had no choice but to accept. Claimed they needed his expertise on these treacherous waters. Felt he could impart that knowledge to Anderson and rebuild the guy’s shaken confidence. Promised they’d approve Dylan’s transfer request after Anderson redeemed himself.

So now, three months in, the cocky FNG was interrupting his solo workout and challenging him? The hell with that.

Using his thigh muscles, he shot off after the greenhorn, his elbows jetting out of the water, his pointed fingers reaching, driving, cleaving through the pool. Feet and legs kicking powerfully behind him. His fatigue dropped away and he raced, pushing hard, until he caught up to Anderson on the third lap. They swam side by side for twenty minutes, then pulled up.

Anderson shook his head, sending droplets flying, and reached for the water bottle he’d left on the side of the pool. “Shit. Thought I had a chance of beating you since you’d been in here awhile.”

“I was just warming up, asshole.” Dylan drained the last of his own water.

“Heard about the Pacific Sun. Seven survivors.” Anderson whistled. “And they have that hot female captain, right? Is she single?”

“No,” Dylan said through his teeth. Nolee hadn’t mentioned her relationship status and, of course, it was no damn business of his whether or not she’d stayed with Craig. But even in Anderson’s wildest dreams, Nolee was out of his league.

“Hey!” Anderson threw out his hands as if to ward off the blow Dylan contemplated landing on him. “No offense.”

“Just keep it professional,” Dylan snapped, hating the surge of possessiveness he had no right to feel. That damn kiss had kicked off all the wrong instincts in his brain. “How was patrol?”

Anderson hopped up on the side of the pool and dangled his legs in the water. “Northern Lights set a string in restricted waters. They were already correcting it when we came upon them. No excitement.”

Dylan joined him and together they performed dips, lowering themselves, triceps flexing, into the pool, then pushing up again, and again. “You’ll get plenty more once I’m gone,” Dylan grunted as he repeated the move.

Now that Anderson was back in his fins with several successful rescues under his belt, and another swimmer had joined their SAR team as well, they could afford to approve Dylan’s transfer request. Despite the promise from the higher-ups, however, he knew better than to count on it until he saw the damn thing.

“You have leave coming, right?” asked Anderson through gritted teeth, a vein appearing at his temple as he muscled through this set of twenty.

“A month. After that, I’m hoping I get a new assignment.”

With this being an out-of-rotation-year move, he’d have to wait until a stateside RS position opened up.

“Can’t say I’ll miss you,” Anderson said before disappearing beneath the surface and shooting along the bottom for the underwater swim portion of the workout.

“Me, neither,” Dylan said to himself, thinking of Nolee, wondering if that were true.

Seeing her again messed with his mind, but she’d been right about one thing. He would seek out his family before he left Kodiak, just not the family she was thinking of. His parents had never had much use for him. His uncle, however, who’d nurtured his love of the sea, was on his list of people to see before he spent another decade away from Alaska. Dylan missed the old guy.

And, as an added benefit, spending a weekend with his uncle would ensure he wouldn’t be tempted to cross paths with Nolee anytime soon.

3

“SO YOU’LL GIVE me another chance?” Nolee leaned forward on one of The Outboard’s pub tables the following evening, nearly toppling a couple of the empty beer bottles littering its sticky surface. Restless energy tap-danced in her veins. Made the balls of her feet bounce.

Rick Dunham, one of Dunham Seafoods’s owners, signaled for another round, then shrugged.

“I’m considering it.” He raised his voice above the din of the chattering crowd that filled the Kodiak dive favored by local fishermen. He popped a pretzel into his mouth and shot her an assessing look as he crunched. “These are the best quota numbers we’ve ever received and we need to fill them.”

Over his shoulder, white lights blinked above a long, garland-wrapped bar where bearded men jockeyed for the best spot to watch the Seahawks game. A Christmas tree glowed red then green in the corner. Metal fishing lures dangled from its branches and reflected the light.