The Homecoming (44 page)

At first Kara hadn’t wanted to get involved with Sax because of Trey. Later, she’d been surprised to discover that although she loved being with him, loved
loving
him, she’d been afraid to commit to forever. Because having already lost one man she’d loved, she’d been afraid to entirely risk her heart again.

“I had an idea the other day,” she said carefully, “while we were out flying kites on the beach.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s past your bedtime. Let’s talk about this in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.” He rolled over and hugged Chesty against him. “I’m really happy,” he said into his pillow.

“Me, too,” Kara murmured.

Then she slipped out of the room and went out on the porch to discuss her plan with Sax.

It was, Sax thought, as they made their way down to the beach below the cliff house, a perfect day. The robin’segg blue sky overhead appeared endless, and the breeze coming off the ocean could not have been better for flying kites.

Sax was carrying the colorful dragon kite he’d bought for Trey at the beginning of the summer. Trey—wearing a new T-shirt he’d asked Sax to help him buy that read, MY MOM’S THE SHERIFF AND SHE’S MY HERO—was holding tight to a note he’d written to his dad that morning after breakfast on a piece of his new back-to-school filler paper.

When Sax had awakened in the middle of the night and found Kara missing from their bed, he’d known she was in the kitchen, writing her own note to Jared.

Sax understood that a part of Kara would always love Jared. They’d talked about that, and he’d assured her that he’d accepted it. Because all her feelings for him, her marriage, her having a son with Jared Conway, had made her the woman she was. The woman he loved.

So he was okay with Jared Conway being Kara’s first husband. Just so Sax got to be her last.

After getting the kite airborne, Sax showed Trey how to cut a slit in the paper, fold it, then send it skimming up the kite string.

“Wow,” he breathed. “It’s up there really, really high.”

“Highest I’ve ever seen one fly,” Sax said.

Kara was next. As she folded her note, Sax noticed that she’d tied something onto the paper: the ring she hadn’t worn since they’d cut it off at the hospital. Although she’d taken down the photos from her dresser, Sax had known she’d kept the ring in the bedside table drawer. Seeing it now told him exactly how committed she was to beginning their new life together.

The note skimmed up the string, a little slower than Trey’s due to the extra weight. Mother and son were holding on to the string.

“When you’re ready,” she told Trey.

He gave it one last serious look. His eyes were shiny.

His weren’t the only ones.

“You hit the jackpot, Sax Man,” a familiar voice said as Kara and Trey released the string, setting the kite free.

The guys had made themselves scarce the last few months. Sax walked over to them. “Roger that,” he said.

“It’s about time. This is an okay place,” Cowboy drawled, looking around the beach. “But now that we’ve got you straightened out, it’s time for us to move on.”

Comprehension finally sank in. “That was the mission, wasn’t it? To get me past the guilt trip and hook me up with Kara.”

“The lady sheriff was a bonus,” Randy said. “That was all your doing. But yeah, SEALs don’t leave men behind. And as long as you were stuck back in the Kush, well, we weren’t going anywhere.”

“And now you can?” The kite was flying higher and higher, becoming a bright dot in the cloudless sky.

“Hooyah,” they said in unison, just like they had during BUD/S. The same way they had on so many shared missions.

“Hooyah,” Sax repeated softly as, still together, they faded away just as Trey’s dragon kite, with the notes to another lost father and husband, disappeared with them beyond the horizon.

Then Kara turned and walked with Trey toward him, her eyes as wet as his, but a smile on her beautiful face.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” she answered.

Sax took her hand in his left, Trey’s in his right.

And together the three of them walked back up the cliff.

Toward home.

After having spent nearly a decade in war zones and other hot spots around the globe, Gabriel St. James was an expert at zeroing in on a shot.

Even when that target was in a bustling crowd of people, as this one was.

Unlike most people on the planet, Gabriel hated weddings. Although there were those in the military who’d called his ability to nail the perfect shot preternatural, and he was more than capable of lowering his cone of silence to shut out the bedlam of merrymaking, weddings were just a screwup waiting to happen.

There were too many people. Too many variables. Too many chances of someone stumbling between himself and his target.

But, against his better judgment, he’d signed on to this mission solely due to loyalty. When you’d been in the trenches with a guy, when you became even closer than blood brothers, you owed him.

Simple as that.

Semper Fi.

The bride and groom were dancing. Twirling around the floor, like a couple on top of a wedding cake come to life. He was looking down at her in a besotted, goofy way that suggested that if he dropped dead at that moment, he’d die a happy man.

She was smiling up at him as if she felt the same way.

Damn.
Gabe really hated to see another one bite the dust.

Not that it was any of his business. This was a job. Same as any other.

Yeah. Right.

He narrowed his field of vision, cutting out the musicians, the guests, the rest of the wedding party. Then farther.

Gone was the bride’s frothy white lace princess dress. And the groom’s snazzy military uniform with the shiny brass buttons and colorful field of service ribbons.

He’d closed his focus down to two faces, which were about to be frozen in time.

Gabe drew in a deep breath, the way Marine sniper scouts were taught to do before taking a shot. Steadied his heartbeat.

Put his finger on the trigger.

Because he was a professional, and because they were lost in their own lovey-dovey world, neither the bride nor the groom noticed him.

Or his camera.

“You know,” a woman’s voice behind him said, “you
are
allowed to enjoy yourself at a wedding.”

“I happen to be working.”

He tilted the Nikon to vertical and took another shot. God. Was a dip the most clichéd photo ever?

But the bride had been very specific about what the bride wanted, and apparently big tough Marine Cole Douchett wasn’t about to deny her anything her little heart desired. In fact, Gabe’s former battle buddy was so besotted, Gabe wouldn’t be surprised if, when he printed the photos, little pink hearts would show up dancing around their heads.

“I’ve noticed,” she said. “You’re very diligent.”

When the woman paused, as if expecting him to comment, Gabe remained silent, hoping she’d go away. She didn’t. Nor did her scent, which reminded him of a summer meadow blooming with lavender and wildflowers.

“You’re not like any other wedding photographer I’ve met,” she said conversationally.

“Thank God for that.” Oh, hell. Not the garter shot. Why didn’t they just take him out and shoot him so he could get this day over with? “Met a lot of wedding photographers, have you?” Like all Marines, he was willing to follow any other through the gates of hell. When he’d enlisted, he hadn’t realized that might include wedding duty.

“Quite a few, actually.”

Cole was now kneeling in front of the chair and had begun stripping the bit of pink-and-white lace from the bride’s thigh. The new Mrs. Cole Duchett did have dynamite legs—he’d give her that.

“What are you? A wedding planner or something?” He hadn’t met one at last night’s rehearsal dinner, but then again, after taking the obligatory shots, he’d gone back to the camp ground, where he’d spent the night in his RV with a six-pack and a ballgame.

“No. I’ve just been in a lot of wedding parties the past few years. They seem contagious. Weddings, that is.”

“I guess like the flu.” Cole was taking the garter off with his teeth.
Was that even allowed in mixed company with children present?
Apparently so, since, by their hoots and cheers, the spectators had all appeared to be enjoying the show immensely.

“Always a bridesmaid?” The damn fragrant cloud, more aura than perfume, was surrounding them. Even as he fought against it, Gabe found himself being drawn to it.

“Not always. I’ve done the white tulle thing.” She paused again. He thought he heard a sigh. “It didn’t work out.”

“Sorry about that.”

“So was I. For a time. But then I decided I was mostly upset because I really hate failing at anything.”

“Join the club.”

Since she apparently wasn’t going to go away, after capturing the garter toss for posterity, Gabe finally lowered his camera and glanced over at her.

She was tall. Lean, but not in a skinny, Hollywood actress way. The pale yellow sleeveless dress that skimmed her body revealed well-toned arms and defined thighs that looked as if she’d spent a lot of time doing PT. Sleek dark hair was pulled back in a tidy tail that fell just below her shoulders, and if he’d been a portrait photographer, which he damn well wasn’t, or possessed a romantic bent, which he didn’t, her cool green eyes might have reminded him of a primeval rain forest.

“If you’re not a wedding planner or a bridesmaid, what are you?”

“A vet.”

That got his attention. Momentarily forgetting the show going on, he narrowed his gaze and gave her another, longer, more judicial perusal. “Which branch?”

“Excuse me?”

“What branch of the military were you in?”

“Oh!” Intelligent eyes lit up as comprehension dawned. “Sorry. My mistake. I’m not former military. I’m a
veterinarian
-type vet. Small animals. Dogs, cats, and birds, mostly. Along with the occasional reptile. Just anything that can be qualified as a family pet.”

“Sounds interesting.”
Oh, oorah. They were moving on to the bouquet toss.

“I like it.” She followed his gaze. “Well, I guess I’d better let you get back to work.”

It had been a very long time since Gabe had endured any sort of casual conversation. Longer since he’d talked at any length with any woman other than his agent. His social skills had definitely gotten rusty.

As he watched the woman whose name he hadn’t bothered to ask walk away, he felt just the slightest twinge of regret.

Then shook it off as the bride prepared for the damn requisite bouquet toss.

A clutch of women had gathered round, like basketball players getting braced for a jump shot. The brunette, he noticed, showed a distinct lack of interest as she skirted the group.

Click.
Gabe caught the bouquet as it left the laughing bride’s hand.

Click.
Shot it again as it arced through the air.

Although the new Mrs. Cole Douchett didn’t even come up to her husband’s shoulder, the woman had a helluva arm on her. The lilies tied up in purple ribbon went flying through the air, over the waiting women’s outstretched hands, and smacked against the front of the vet’s yellow dress.

Acting on instinct, she caught hold of it. Her expression, visible in Gabe’s lens, suggested she’d just caught a live grenade.

As if sensing him watching her, she glanced toward him.

And
click!
was instantly captured.

She rolled her expressive eyes. Then smiled in a way that had him thinking things. Hot, sweaty things. Things he had no business thinking.

But that didn’t stop him from imagining shooting her naked. Lying in the middle of tangled sheets. Or maybe on a blanket in a mountain meadow, looking flushed and satisfied.

He was just trying to convince himself that walking across the room and attempting to pick her up would be the mother of all bone-headed moves when the wedding party moved on to the pyramid of cupcakes the bride had chosen instead of a traditional wedding cake.

At the same time, the vet tossed the bouquet back into the clutch of eager females, wagged her fingers at him, and, slender hips swaying above a pair of ice-pick heels that matched her dress, walked out of the door. And out of his life.

Or so he thought.

New York Times
bestselling author

 

 

 

 

 

Emotionally and physically wounded ex-SEAL Zachariah Tremayne has returned to his South Carolina home determined to shut out the world. Then he meets Sabrina Swann, who has also made a private journey home to put the tattered pieces of her own life back together. But as the two of them learn to love and trust again, a killer is lurking in the shadows, threatening to destroy everything they have fought so hard to rebuild.

“A page-turning mix of danger, suspense, and passion.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Iris Johansen

 

 

New York Times
bestselling author