Hot Combat

Apparently the food was still good there.

A Jeep zipped into the diner’s parking lot and parked between two of the trucks.

As his gaze fixed on the driver’s door as it opened, Ghost’s heartbeat stuttered, stopped and raced on.

A man in dark jeans and a dark polo shirt climbed out and entered the diner.

His pulse slowing, Ghost let out a sigh, squared his shoulders and twisted the key in the ignition. He was there to work, not rekindle an old flame, not when he was going to meet a man about his new assignment and promptly ask to be released to go back to his unit. The diner was the designated meeting place and it was nearing seven o’clock—the hour they’d agreed on.

Feeling grungy and road-weary, Ghost promised himself he’d find a hotel for a shower, catch some real sleep and then drive back to Virginia over the next couple of days.

He drove out of the parking lot and onto Main Street. He could have walked to the diner, but he wanted to leave straight from there to find that hotel and the shower he so desperately needed. Thirty minutes max before he could leave and get some rest.

Ghost parked in an empty space in the lot, cut the engine, climbed out of his truck and nearly crumpled to the ground before he got his leg straight. Pain shot through his thigh and kneecap. The therapist said that would happen if he didn’t keep it moving. After his marathon drive from Virginia to Wyoming in under two days, what did he expect? He held on to the door until the pain subsided and his leg straightened to the point it could hold his weight.

Once he was confident he wouldn’t fall flat on his face, he closed the truck door and walked slowly into the diner, trying hard not to limp. Even the DHS wouldn’t want a man who couldn’t go the distance because of an injury. Not that he wanted to keep the job with DHS. No. He wanted to be back with his unit. The sooner the better. They’d get him in shape better than any physical therapist. The competition and camaraderie kept them going and made them better, stronger men.

Once inside the diner, he glanced around at the men seated at the tables. Most wore jeans and cowboy boots. Their faces were deeply tanned and leathery from years of riding the range in all sorts of weather.

One man stood out among the others. He was tall and broad-shouldered, certainly capable of hard work, but his jeans and cowboy boots appeared new. His face, though tanned, wasn’t rugged or hardened by the elements. He sat in a corner booth, his gaze narrowing on Ghost.

Figuring the guy was the one who didn’t belong, Ghost ambled toward him. “DHS?” he asked, his tone low, barely carrying to the next booth.

The man stood and held out his hand. “Kevin Garner. You must be Jon Caspar.”

Ghost shook the man’s hand. “Most folks call me Ghost.”

“Nice to meet you, Ghost.” Garner had a firm grip, belying his fresh-from-the-Western-store look. “Have a seat.”

Not really wanting to stay, Ghost took the chair indicated.

The DHS man remained standing long enough to wave to a waitress. Once he got her attention, he sat opposite Ghost.

On close inspection, his contact appeared to be in his early thirties, trim and fit. “I was expecting someone older,” Ghost commented.

Garner snorted. “Trust me, I get a lot of push-back for what I’m attempting. Most think I’m too young and inexperienced to lead this effort.”

Ghost leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “And just what effort is that?”

Before the DHS representative could respond, the waitress arrived bearing a pot of coffee and an empty mug. She poured a cup and slapped a laminated menu on the table. “I’ll be back.”

As soon as she left, Garner leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Safe Haven Task Force was my idea. If it works, great. If it fails, I’ll be looking for another job. I’m just lucky they gave me a chance to experiment.”

“Frankly, I’m not much on experiments, but I’ll give you the benefit of a doubt. What’s the experiment?”

“The team you will be part of will consist of some of the best of the best from whatever branch of service. They will be the best tacticians, the most skilled snipers and the smartest men our military has produced.”

“Sorry.” Ghost shook his head. “How do I fit into that team?”

Garner slid a file across the table and opened it to display a dossier on Ghost.

Ghost frowned. SEALs kept a low profile, their records available to only a very few. “How did you get that file?”

He sat back, his lips forming a hint of a smile. “I asked for it.”

“Who the hell are you? Better still, what politician is in your pocket to pull me out of my unit for this boondoggle gig?” Ghost leaned toward Garner, anger simmering barely below the surface. “Look, I didn’t ask for this assignment. I don’t even want to be here. I have a job with the Navy. I don’t need this.”

Garner’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Like it or not, you’re on loan to me until I can prove out my theory. Call it a Temporary Duty assignment. I don’t care what you call it. I just need you until I don’t need you anymore.”

“There are much bigger fish to fry in the world than in Grizzly Pass, Wyoming.”

“Are you sure of that?” Garner’s brow rose. “While you and your teammates are out fighting on foreign soil, we’ve had a few homegrown terrorists surface. Is fighting on foreign soil more important than defending your home turf?”

“I might fall for your line of reasoning if we were in New York, or DC.” Ghost shook his head. “We’re in Grizzly Pass. We’re far away from politicians, presidents and wealthy billionaires. We’re in the backside of the backwoods. What could possibly be of interest here?”

“You realize there’s a significant amount of oil running through this state at any given time. Not to mention, it’s also the state with the most active volcano.”

“Not buying it.” Ghost sat back again, unimpressed. “It would take a hell of an explosion to get things stirred up with the volcano at Yellowstone.”

“Well, this area is a hotbed for antigovernment movements. There are enough weapons being stashed and men being trained to form a sizable army. And we’re getting chatter on the social media sites indicating something’s about to go down.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Garner sighed. “Unfortunately, not yet.”

“If you’re done speculating, I have a two-day drive ahead of me to get back to my unit.” Ghost started to rise, but the waitress arrived at that time, blocking his exit from the booth.

“Are you ready to order?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Garner gave the waitress a tight smile. “I’d like the Cowboy Special, Marta.”

Marta faced Ghost. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“The coffee will hold me.” Until he could get to Cheyenne where he’d stop for food.

After Marta left, Garner leaned toward Ghost. “Give me a week. That’s all I ask. One week. If you think we’re still tilting at windmills, you can go back to your unit.”

“How did I get the privilege of being your star guinea pig?”

Garner’s face turned a ruddy shade of red and he pressed his lips together. “I got you because you weren’t cleared for active duty.” He raised his hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You have a remarkable record and I would have chosen you anyway, once you’d fully recovered.”

That hurt. The Navy had thrown the DHS a bone by sending a Navy SEAL with a bummed-up leg. Great. So they didn’t think he was ready to return to duty either. The anger surged inside him, making him mad enough to prove them wrong. “All right. I’ll give you a week. If we can’t prove your theory about something about to go down, I’m heading back to Virginia.”

Garner let out a long breath. “That’s all I can ask.”

Ghost smacked his hand on the table. “So, what exactly am I supposed to do?”

“One of our operatives was threatened last night. I need you to work with her while she tries to figure out who exactly it is and why they would feel the need to harass her.” He handed Ghost his business card, flipping it over to the backside where he’d written an address. “This is her home address here in Grizzly Pass.”

“I know where that is.” Orva Davis lived there back when he was a kid. She used to chase the kids out of her yard, waving a switch. She’d been ancient back then, she couldn’t possibly be alive now. “She’s expecting me this morning?”

“She’ll be happy to see anyone this morning. The sooner the better.”

“Who is she?”

At that exact moment Garner’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced down at the caller ID, his brows pulling together. “Sorry, I have to take this. If you have any questions, you can call me at the number on the front of that card.” He pushed to his feet and walked out of the building, pressing the phone to his ear.

After tossing back the last of his coffee, Ghost pulled a couple of bills from his wallet and laid them on the table. He took the card and left, passing Garner on his way to his truck.

The DHS man was deep in conversation, turned completely away from Ghost.

Ghost shrugged. He’d had enough time off that he was feeling next to useless and antsy. But he could handle one more week. He might even get in some fly-fishing.

He slid behind the wheel of his pickup and glanced down at the address. Old Orva Davis couldn’t possibly still be alive, could she? If not her, who was the woman who’d felt threatened in this backwater town? Probably some nervous Nellie.

He’d find out soon enough.

And then...one week.

Chapter Two

Charlie had nodded off once or twice during the night, waking with a jerk every time. Thankfully, she hadn’t pulled the trigger and blown a hole in the door, her leg or her foot.

She was up and doing laundry when Lolly padded barefoot out of her bedroom, dragging her giant teddy bear. “I’m hungry.”

“Waffles or cereal?” Charlie asked, forcing a cheerful smile to her tired face.

“Waffles,” Lolly said. “With blueberry syrup.”

“I’ll start cooking, while you get dressed.” Charlie plugged in her waffle iron, mixed the batter and had a waffle cooking in no time. She cleaned off the small dinette table that looked like a throwback to the fifties, with its speckled Formica top and chrome legs. In actuality, the table did date back to the fifties. It was one of the items of furniture that had come with the house when she’d bought it. She’d been fortunate enough to find the bright red vinyl fabric to recover the seats, making them look like new.

On a tight budget, with only one income-producing person in the family, a car payment and student loans to pay, she couldn’t afford to be extravagant.

She was rinsing fresh blueberries in the sink when a dark figure suddenly appeared in the window in front of her. Charlie jumped, her heart knocking against her ribs. She laughed when she realized it was Shadow, the stray she and Lolly had fed through the winter. Charlie was far too jumpy that morning. The messages from the night before were probably all bluster, no substance, and she’d wasted a night she could have been sleeping, worrying about nothing.

The cat rubbed her fur against the window screen. When that didn’t get enough attention, she stretched out her claws and sank them into the screen netting.

“Hey! Get down.” Charlie tapped her knuckles against the glass and the cat jumped down from the ledge. “Lolly! Shadow’s hungry and my hands are full.”

Lolly entered the room dressed in jeans, a pink T-shirt and the pink cowboy boots she loved so much. The boots had been a great find on one of their rare trips to the thrift shop in Bozeman, Montana. “I’ll get the bowl.” She started for the back door.

I’ll find you.

The message echoed in Charlie’s head and she dropped the strainer of blueberries into the sink and hurried toward her daughter. “Wait, Lolly. I’ll get the cat bowl. Tell you what, you grab a brush, and we’ll braid your hair this morning.”

Charlie waited until her daughter had left the kitchen, then she unlocked the dead bolt and glanced out at the fresh green landscape of early summer in the Rockies. The sun rose in the east and a few puffy clouds skittered across the sky. Snow still capped the higher peaks in stunning contrast to the lush greenery. How could anything be wrong on such a beautiful day?

A loud ringing made her jump and then grab for the telephone mounted on the wall beside her.

“Hello,” she said, her voice cracking, her body trembling from being startled.

“Charlie, it’s me, Kevin.”

“Thank goodness.” She laughed, the sound even shakier than her knees.

“Any more trouble last night?”

She shook her head and then remembered he couldn’t see her. “No. I’m beginning to think I’m paranoid.”

“Not at all. In fact, I’m sending someone over to check things out. He should be there in a few minutes.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, Kevin.”

“The guy I’m sending is one hundred percent trustworthy. I’d only send the best to you and Lolly.” He broke off suddenly. “Sorry. I have an incoming call. We’ll talk later.”

“Thanks, Kevin.” Feeling only slightly better, Charlie returned the phone to its charger and stepped out onto the porch.

Shadow rubbed against her legs and trotted to the empty bowl on the back porch steps.

“Impatient, are we?” Charlie walked out onto the porch, shaking off the feeling of being watched, calling herself all kinds of a fool for being so paranoid. She dropped to her haunches to rub the cat behind the ears.

Shadow nipped at her fingers, preferring food to fondling. Charlie smiled. “Greedy thing.” She bent to grab the dish. When she rose, she caught movement in the corner of her eyes and then there were jean-clad legs standing in front of her.

She gasped and backed up so fast, she forgot she was still squatting and fell on her bottom. A scream lodged in her throat and she couldn’t get a sound to emerge.

The man looming over her was huge. He stood with his back to the sun, his face in the shadows, and he had hands big enough to snap her bones like twigs. He extended one of those hands.

Charlie slapped it away and crab-walked backward toward the door. “Wh-who are you? What do you want?” she whispered, her gaze darting to the left and the right, searching for anything she could use as a weapon.

“Geez, Charlie, you’d think you’d remember me.” He climbed the steps and, for the second time, reached for her hand. Before she could jerk hers away, he yanked her to her feet. A little harder than either of them expected.

Charlie slammed against a wall of muscle, the air knocked from her chest. Or had her lungs seized at his words? She knew that voice. Her pulse pounded against her eardrums, making it difficult for her to hear. “Jon?”

He brushed a strand of her hair from her face. “Hey, Charlie, I didn’t know you were my assignment.” He chuckled, that low, sexy sound that made her knees melt like butter.

Her heart burst with joy. He’d come back. Then as quickly as her joy spread, anger and fear followed. She flattened her palms against his chest and pushed herself far enough way, Jon was forced to drop his hands from around her waist. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I’m on assignment.” He grinned. “And it appears you’re it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Kevin Garner sent me. The Navy loaned me to the Department of Homeland Security for a special task force. I thought it was going to be a boondoggle, and actually asked to be released from the assignment. But it looks like it won’t be nearly as bad as I’d anticipated.”

Charlie straightened her shirt, her heartbeat hammering, her ears perked to the sound of little footsteps. “You were right. Get Kevin to release you. Go back to the Navy. They need you more there.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. I promised Kevin I’d give it a week.” Jon gripped her arms. “Why the hurry to get rid of me? As I recall, we used to have chemistry.”

She shrugged off his hand. “That was a long time ago. A lot has changed since then. Please. Just go. I can handle the situation myself.”

“If you’re in trouble, let me help.”

“No.” God, why did he have to come back now? And why was it so hard to get rid of him? He’d certainly left without a care, never looking back or contacting her. Well, he could stay gone, for all she gave a damn. “I’m pretty sure I don’t need you. Ask Kevin to assign you elsewhere.”

“Mommy, I found the brush.” Lolly pushed through the back door, waving a purple-handled hairbrush. “You can braid my hair now.” Charlie’s daughter, with her clear blue eyes and fiery auburn hair tumbling down her back, stepped through the door and stopped. Her mouth dropped open and her head tilted way back as she stared up at the big man standing on her porch. “Mommy?” she whispered. “Who is the big man?”

Charlie’s heart tightened in her chest. If only her daughter knew. But she couldn’t tell her and she couldn’t tell Jon. Not after all these years. Not when he’d be gone again as soon as he could get Kevin to release him. “This is Mr. Caspar. He was just leaving.” Thankfully, her daughter looked like a miniature replica of herself, but for the eyes. No one had guessed who the father was, except for her parents, and they’d been very discreet about the knowledge, never throwing it up in her face or giving her a hard time for sleeping with him without a wedding ring.

Jon dropped to his haunches and held out his hand. “Would you like for me to brush your hair? I used to do it for your mother.”

The memory of Jon brushing the hay and tangles out of her hair brought back a rush of memories Charlie would rather not have resurrected. Not now. Not when it had taken seven years to push those memories to the back of her mind. She had too much at stake.

Charlie laid a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Mr. Caspar was leaving.”

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry. I promised to stay for a week. I don’t go back on my word.”

No, he didn’t. He’d told her he wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship when he’d last been in town. He’d lived up to his word then, leaving without once looking back. “Well, you’ll have to keep your promise somewhere else besides my back porch.”

Her daughter tugged on the hem of her T-shirt. “Mommy, are you mad at the man?”

With a sigh, Charlie shook her head. “No, sweetie, I’m not mad at him.” Well, maybe a little angry that he’d bothered to come back after seven years. Or more that he’d waited seven years to return. Hell, she didn’t know what to feel. Her emotions seemed to be out of control at the moment, bouncing between happiness at seeing him again and terror that he would discover her secret.

Since Jon seemed in no hurry to leave, she’d have to get tougher. Charlie turned her little girl and gave her a nudge toward the door. “Go back inside, Lolly. We adults need to have a talk.”

Lolly grabbed her hand and clung to it. “I don’t want to go.” She frowned at Jon. “What if the big man hurts you?”

Lord, he’d already done that by breaking her heart. How could he hurt her worse?

* * *

GHOST WATCHED AS the little girl, who looked so much like her mother that it made his chest hurt, turned and entered the house, the screen door closing behind her.

Charlie hadn’t waited around for him to come back. She’d gone on with her life, had a kid and probably had a husband lurking around somewhere. “Are you married?” He glanced over her shoulder, trying to see through the screen of the back door.

“Since you’re not staying, does it matter?” She walked past him and down the stairs, grabbed a bowl from the ground and nearly tripped over a dark gray cat twisting around her ankles.

When Charlie stepped over the animal and started up the steps, the feline ran ahead and stopped in front of Ghost. She touched her nose to his leg as if testing him.

Ghost grew up on a ranch with barn cats. His father made sure they had two or three at any given time, but had them spayed and neutered to keep from populating the countryside with too many feral animals with the potential for carrying disease or rabies around the family and livestock.

He bent to let the cat sniff his hand and then scratched the animal’s neck. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. Why would she avoid the simple yes or no question?

“I don’t feel like I owe you an explanation for what I’ve been doing for the past seven years.” Her tone was tight, her shoulders stiff.

When he’d first seen her on the deck, he hadn’t immediately recognized her. Her hair was longer and loose around her shoulders. When they’d been together, all those years ago, she’d worn her hair in a perpetual braid to keep it out of her face.

Her hips and breasts were fuller, even more enticing than before. Motherhood suited her. If possible, she was more beautiful and sexier than ever.

His gut twisted. But who was the father? Lolly was small. Maybe five? Though he didn’t have a claim on Charlie, he never could stomach the idea of another man touching her the way he’d touched her.

The fact was babies didn’t come from storks. So Charlie wasn’t the open, straightforward woman she’d been all those years ago. She probably had a reason for being more reserved. Having a child might have factored into her current stance.

He straightened. “So, tell me about the threats.”

“You’re not going away, are you?” Her brows drew together, the lines a little deeper than when she’d been twenty-two. She sighed. “I really wish you would just go. I have enough going on.”

“Without me getting in the way?” He shook his head. “I’m only going to be here a week. Unless you have a husband who is willing to take care of you, let me help you and your family for the week.” He smiled, hoping to ease the frown from her brow. “Show me a husband and I’ll leave.” He cocked his brows.

She stared at him for a long, and what appeared to be wary, moment before she shook her head. “There isn’t a husband to take care of us.”

“Is he out of town?” He wasn’t going to let it go. The thought of Charlie and her little girl being threatened didn’t sit well with him. Who would do that to a lone woman and child? “I could stay until he returns.”

“I told you. There isn’t a husband. Never has been.”

He couldn’t help a little thrill at the news. But if no husband, who was the jerk who’d gotten her pregnant and left her to raise the child alone?

His heart stood still and his breath lodged in his lungs. Everything around him seemed to freeze. No. It couldn’t be. “How old is Lolly?”

“Does it matter?” Charlie spun and walked toward the door. “If you want to see the threats, follow me.”

He caught her arm and pulled her around to face him, his fingers digging into her skin. “How old is she?” he demanded, his lips tight, a thousand thoughts spinning in his head, zeroing in on one.

For a long moment, she met his gaze, refusing to back down. Finally, she tilted her chin upward a fraction and answered, “Six.”

“Just six?” His gut clenched.

“Six and a few months.”

Her words hit him like a punch in the gut. Ghost fought to remain upright when he wanted to double over with the impact. Instead, he dropped his hands to his sides and balled his fists. “Is she—”

“Yours?” She shrugged. “Does it matter? Will it change anything?”

“My God, Charlie!” He grabbed her arms wanting to shake her like a rag doll. But he didn’t. “I have a daughter, and you never told me?”

“You were going places. You had a plan, and a family wasn’t part of it. What did you expect me to do? Get an abortion? Give her up for adoption?”

“Hell, no.” He choked on the words and shoved a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe it.” His knees wobbled and his eyes stung.

He turned toward the back door. The little auburn-haired girl-child stood watching them, her features muted by the screen.

That little human with the beautiful red hair, curling around her face was his daughter.