Page 13 of A Spark of Luck (The Defenders #2)
She put one leg out of the car to run if she had to and put the other hand in her purse to grope for keys and a weapon.
Physically, she put on her doctor’s persona and found her most calming yet commanding tone of voice.
“You’re a nice guy, Ryan. I know this came out of nowhere for you.
I’m sorry. I really am. You deserve better than this lifestyle will give you, and I’m not the girl for what you want.
I’m a combat trauma surgeon. It’s what I do, and it’s what I am. That is never going to change.”
“So why not let’s have fun until you leave?” He reached to grab her arm, but she shifted away, getting out of the car. The belligerent expression on his face and the anger in his eyes shot uneasiness down her spine. Her hand closed around her knife and her keys simultaneously.
He slammed the gear into park, opened his door and got out, and glared at her over the hood of his red Camaro, his pride and joy.
Ryan had always been easy-going. This temper was out of character for what she knew of him, which proved her point.
They didn’t know each other well, mostly her fault.
They wouldn’t know each other now, and he had obviously kept up the happy, easy persona and hadn’t shown his true self to her either; hence, moving on was necessary .
Frankly, she didn’t know Hunt at all, either, but she got the sense that he was all in with the “what you see is what you get” attitude – no apologies. The fact that he was an elite warrior fueled that mindset.
Which left the other problem. She’d been comparing Ryan to Hunt non-stop for three months. Ryan was coming up short.
Whether that was a fantasy sex moment playing in her brain or something that could be built on would depend on whether she could find him.
“I’ll walk myself in. I’m really sorry, Ryan. Take care of yourself.” She slammed her door and kept an even, clipped pace to the stairs to her second-floor apartment, expecting at any moment to be overtaken by an irate man. Thank God, he didn’t follow her.
She could use her knife on any combatant, but she didn’t want to use hers on him because then she’d have to fix him and make a ton of explanations to the police. Afghanistan would be out, and she had to go. Had to.
Fear jolted her stomach, leaving a rolling mess in its wake that wasn’t going to go away soon.
Thankfully, she heard his car door slam.
He gunned his engine and squealed tires pulling out of her lot, but she didn’t relax until she was inside her tiny apartment with doors locked, lights on, and safety in her grasp.
The sparse furniture reaffirmed her decision.
She hadn’t gone all in on making this place a home because she knew she didn’t belong here.
Four weeks and counting; she wouldn’t be here anymore.
Her household goods could be stored, and her car and her forwarding address could go to Jackie in Echo Falls.
Six months should be long enough to cool anyone’s temper.
One would hope Ryan would stay away until then, but she’d be prepared and careful before she left.
It wouldn’t help to get in any more discussions.
He was justified in his anger, but she couldn’t help feeling his true colors were something else entirely, and she’d said what needed to be said even if it wasn’t the whole truth.
I met a man I think I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, but he got away from me.
§§§§
The Naval Special Warfare Center in Coronado was the team’s home base when they were not out fighting terrorists, pirates, kidnappers, and wars. Hunt had gone to BUD/S training here, lived here as an officer, and looked forward to coming home after missions and deployments .
The building was its usual hub of activity as Hunt made his way through the hallways.
He shoved open the door of the team’s work area and noted all the team members were here.
The spacious room had been painted while they’d been out.
The air still held a scent of the process even as the color gave nothing away.
The space also housed cages along the wall for each man’s gear and gave them a unified place to have team discussions.
Hell, Thompson was currently sleeping in a hammock in his cage having had a falling out with his wife.
Hunt had slept here a time or two when hot items were on the agenda. It was a home away from home, too.
Having completed a long brief with Lieutenant Commander Harrison Scott and the counterintelligence people in operations, the news wasn’t unexpected. He walked to the center worktable to get their attention.
Carter looked up from his cellphone. He was sitting near his storage cage, his gun-metal gray chair leaned back against the mesh. “Give us the news, LT. Where now?” He rose and moved to the worktable. The rest of the team followed his lead.
Doogie settled at his side. “Is it what we thought? ”
Hunt nodded, making an extra effort to batten down his emotions. “Afghanistan. Kabul area. Again.”
“Don’t you know we’re trying peace there, son.” Tommy Thompson’s lazy voice carried through the room. Laughter followed the comment.
Hunt grinned. “Yeah. About that. Intel on our favorite terrorist is hot. They think he’s there and fueling insurgent activity amidst the peace process.
We’re wheels up in forty-eight hours joining a full special operations team.
We’ll be in country as long as it takes to find him or confirm he’s not there.
Deployment orders forthcoming. Wrap up your personal stuff. ”
Nobody grumbled. The moment sparked the usual buzz and everyone to a man turned to his cage to prepare.
He went to his own space, making mental notes in his head.
He kept his space neat and ready to go. The same with his gear, but he had to make a quick trip to the commissary and pay bills.
He had to square away his apartment, tell the manager he’d be gone for a while, and store his truck at Doogie’s house.
And he had to cancel his flight to San Antonio.
A sense of missed opportunity squeezed his chest agitating an overwhelming dose of despair and inevitability. Would he never get his hands on her again?
But he was who he’d chosen to be. Country first.
The timing sucked, but maybe things with Cait weren’t meant to be.
THE STORY CONTINUES
In Lucky Charm
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