Eight Months Later
“DUDE, YOU’VE TURNED into a total downer.”
Cade’s words echoed through the empty barracks in Quatar. The rest of the squad was off celebrating their return from Syria. Blake had turned down their invite to join in, wanting to sleep and decompress first.
“Sorry I’m not living up to your entertainment standards,” Blake muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.
“You’re mooning. Get over her already.”
“I’m sleeping. As in resting up after a three-week recon.”
Cade’s sigh was a work of art. Loud, drawn out and filled with enough exasperation to fuel an obnoxious teenager for a week.
Blake almost smiled. But he still didn’t open his eyes. He wanted to sleep. Sleep and work were great. In between the two? Not so great.
Not that he was mooning. That’d be stupid. And Blake didn’t waste his time with stupid.
“You need to get over her.”
“Over who?”
The silence was glorious.
If only it’d last.
“It’s been months. You’re so hung up that you barely do anything anymore. Missions, the gym, the dojo, the range. That’s your life. You’re a cliché, man.”
Sad, but true.
Michael had been right. After slamming the door in his face, Alexia hadn’t talked to him again. Blake had called. He’d gone by her place. He’d done everything but tattle to her daddy.
Finally, he’d given up.
He wasn’t going to waste his time on a woman who couldn’t get past her father issues.
“I’m not a cliché. I’m not mooning and I haven’t been a monk.” There. He’d defended himself against all of Cade’s accusations. Maybe now he could get some sleep.
“You’re not putting anything into it, either. Sex with random strangers just to relieve the pressure isn’t your thing.”
“Don’t you have a lovelorn column to write?” Blake snapped, sick of thinking about Alexia and totally pissed that Cade wouldn’t let it go.
“‘Dear Lovelorn LC, I’ve fallen for the girl I can’t have and now can’t get over her. How do I heal my broken heart?’”
It might have been funny if it wasn’t way too close to the truth.
“Sullivan, you’re a pain in my ass.”
“Landon!”
Thank God. An interruption Cade couldn’t ignore.
“Sir?” Blake sprang to his feet, coming to attention despite the fact that he was off duty, in his boxers and, seriously, trying to sleep.
“New orders. Report to the captain.”
* * *
EYES FOCUSED on the silver eagle gracing the plaque of the United States Navy, Blake stood at attention. The brass behind the desk ignored his presence, multitasking paperwork and a phone call instead.
Shoulders firm, chin high, senses alert, Blake knew his face didn’t betray any irritation at waiting, even though it’d been ten minutes already. Nor did any of the questions he had on his mind show in his expression.
He wasn’t wondering why he had been pulled from his assignment and ordered back to the Coronado Naval Base without the rest of his team.
Nor was he curious about why this meeting was deemed classified.
Both of those were pretty much Standard Operating Procedure.
The question burning in his gut was why the hell he was reporting directly to Rear Admiral Lane.
Plenty of orders had come down from Lane, but they went through the chain of command. Blake had never had a face-to-face with the rear admiral. He hadn’t even seen the guy in person since Admiral Pierce’s retirement party last September.
Anger fisted tight in his gut, the same as it always did at the memory of that night.
As he had so many times in the past, he reminded himself that it was stupid to get worked up over a woman he’d barely known. The only reason Alexia was still intriguing was because he hadn’t got to spend enough time with her for the shine to wear off. Great sex, a body that haunted his dreams and a personality that had almost convinced him there was such a thing as relationships outside of bed... Nothing to obsess over.
He’d slept with plenty of women in the past few months, enough to wipe away the memory of that wild encounter. He wasn’t a sentimental guy, nor was he the kind who fanatically crushed on some long-forgotten—or supposed-to-be-forgotten—chick.
Nope. No reason to be angry.
No point in remembering the exact texture of her lips, the scent of her hair in the moonlight or the feel of her soft curves pressed into his chest. It was ridiculous to wish he could see her, just one more time, poised naked above him, waiting to ride them both to the heights and depths of passion. The last thing he needed in his life was the distraction of wondering how she was liking her new job, whether she’d adjusted to life in San Diego or if she still missed New York. If she’d unpacked everything and if she’d got to the beach yet this year.
With the same discipline he used to push his body to its limits, to train with the elite and to succeed in missions that most would deem impossible, Blake shoved the memory—and all its accompanying emotional tension—out of his mind.
Better to focus on wondering why the hell he was here.
More for distraction than because he figured he’d find an answer, he started running through a mental list of all the known conflicts that might require a one-man mission.
He hadn’t come up with a single idea by the time the rear admiral wound up his phone call.
“Landon,” Lane acknowledged when he hung up the receiver.
Already at attention, Blake shifted all of his focus—physical and mental—to his commanding officer.
“Sir.”
“You were recently in Syria.”
Since it was a statement, not a question, Blake didn’t respond. Still staring at the eagle, he was aware his mind raced. The last mission had been a success. The team had even received a thumbs-up from the commander in chief on a job well done. Where was this going?
“In the last year, you’ve spent six months deployed in the Middle East, completed seventy-two missions and earned yourself three commendations.”
That sounded about right. The rear admiral wasn’t looking for confirmation, though.
“You have a reputation as
