Page 8 of Lucky Charm

“Hunt?”

He turned. “Yeah, Doc?”

“It’s been four hundred and sixteen days since I last saw you.”

His passive expression flashed to molten heat, searing images of bare skin and wet kisses across her memory. Seconds passed and he didn’t move. Finally, he blanked his face and opened the door, saying nothing.

What could he say? She’d promised to accept his command and keep personal out of it. She could do that, but did she want to? Command was no problem. But her emotions had run amok since those forty impossibly incredible minutes.

She had lost her mind.

∞∞∞∞∞

November 6, 2019

Day 2

Hunt stood in the pre-dawn darkness watching K-Rock and Carter load the vehicles. He lifted his head and turned to the north. He could smell snow in the wind. He’d been born and raised in an area known for snow, and he’d lived in it long enough to recognize the weather shift. Montana. His nemesis from a young age. His father loved to shove him out of shelter and into the elements with little concern whether he lived or died. That state had one lousyday in summer around mid-August. Before that day, residents recovered from winter and after that they prepared for winter. That might be a bit harsh. Maybe the respite lasted a week, but it wasn’t much more than that.

His Arctic survival courses as part of his SEAL training honed his prediction skills, but on this occasion, he wished he could be wrong. They needed more time. Hunt lived on the freak side of organized. He heard the good-natured jokes from the team, but that pickiness many times paid off. He still had to rearrange his pockets and his pack to make sure he could keep Doc comfortable in the cold weather, and he had only two short hours to accomplish that before mission time would greet them.

Commander Scott’s summons came as they started a packing rearrangement of the vehicles to accommodate additions to Doc’s supplies and equipment.

He glanced at his watch, resigned to not getting any rest. Honestly, he wouldn’t sleep anyway. Doc’s tight smile when he left the hospital ate at his gut.

He’d been blunt, maybe too blunt.

Her blank, professional face bugged him. Until she let go and whispered.

One comment and his brain went sideways. Four hundred and sixteen days. That matched his count.

His chest flooded with warmth, and the throb of his heartbeat echoed in the pulse of his hard on. Not the first time in the last year he’d beenoverwhelmed with his Cait memories, but now wasn’t the time.

He had to work with her. This mission was dangerous. Distractions were a no-go. After. Yes, then. He could be honest with how he felt.

“Carter, spread the remaining gear between the two vehicles. Pass on to the team to get a power nap and meet me here at 0530 locked and loaded. I’m going to see Scott.”

“Can do, LT.” Nothing phased Carter, a reality that Hunt frequently leaned on to make things work on the team.

K-Rock rounded the vehicle and gave him a thumbs up. “We’re ready, LT.” An explosives expert, K-Rock had a bit of a temper and an affection for his guitar, spicy food, heavy metal music, and a clear devotion to his U.S. attorney husband, Grayson. He was also a primo hacker. But when it came to mission time, he delivered the first time, every time. “The plans are solid, LT. We’ve kicked it around as much as we can. We gotta roll with it.”

Maybe Cait realized that. Maybe she stayed carefully blank because there was nothing to say. They both had orders. Maybe he was overthinking this because he stood blindsided by how fucking beautiful she was, how protective he was, incredible sex memories, and a staggering sense of intimacy he wanted back.

“You’re right, K-Rock. Let’s do this.” He stowed his final item and went inside. He stopped in the day room for a hot cup of coffee. The chill of the night reinforced the drastic downturn of theweather. Tommy was on a video session with his wife, Melanie, and the man waved a hand in greeting.

“Tell Mel hello for me, Tommy.” Lifting a cup, Hunt paid little attention to the clean or not clean and filled the mug.

Tommy grinned and passed along the message.

He took a sip of the coffee to keep it from slopping out of the mug and left the room. Doogie came down the hall toward him and silently skirted past the door for the operations conference area. “CIA in the house.”

“Pisser.” Hunt took a couple gulps, but the caffeine punch was slow to materialize.

“Baxter’s in the head. Stomach bug still kicking his ass.”

Hunt’s gut tightened. “Sick call? He in or out?”

“In. Won’t be left behind. Says it’ll pass. He’s crunching Pepto as we speak.”