Going Dark Read online

  But others . . .

  Fuck. He swallowed hard, his gut twisting as the familiar image flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t stop seeing the kid’s—Brian’s—shocked expression right before the missile had struck and he’d been engulfed in the fireball of the explosion.

  Dean could still feel the blistering heat from the explosion that had sent him flying and turned the camp into a wasteland. Everything had been leveled. Erased. Lieutenant White’s squad . . . half the platoon . . . gone in an instant.

  There was nothing he could have done to help White and the rest of Navy Squad, but Brian’s death was on him. Dean had ignored a direct order and the kid had paid for it.

  He owed Brian and the rest of the men who’d been killed an answer. But he sure as hell didn’t think he was going to find it in Stornoway chartering scuba divers—and sexy protesters.

  “For once just follow a fucking command, Baylor!”

  Dean’s mouth tightened in a grim line as Lieutenant Commander Taylor’s voice came back to him. He would do so, damn it. But he didn’t like it.

  Digging his hands in his sweatshirt pockets, he headed toward his temporary home. He’d let a room in a flat not far from the port, which required him to pass by the protester camp. From the noise and light coming from that direction, they were apparently still going strong.

  He caught a whiff of another familiar memory from his childhood as he walked by. How many times had he returned from school to the skunk smell of weed?

  Whenever his mom could afford it.

  He wondered if she had any idea that he was dead. He doubted it; he hadn’t seen her in years. Not since she’d come looking for money when she found out he’d made the Teams.

  The memory still pissed him off.

  Dean was about to turn up his street when a woman darted past him. She was so preoccupied with whatever was bothering her that she didn’t notice him.

  But he noticed her. The sexy brunette had been the focus of too many of his sex-starved thoughts for him not to have recognized that shadowed figure right away.

  His thoughts immediately turned to anger. What the hell was she doing out here alone at this time of night?

  Granted Stornoway wasn’t exactly the mean streets of name-your-favorite American inner city, but it had its share of illegal activity—especially along the waterfront—and it wasn’t a place where a young woman should be walking alone in the middle of the night.

  He went after her without thinking. Proving his point, she took way too long to realize he was behind her.

  He could tell by the way she jumped when she turned around that he’d startled her.

  But it didn’t last. As soon as she recognized him, her eyes narrowed angrily. “Why are you following me? You scared me!”

  “Good. You shouldn’t be out here alone—” He stopped suddenly, seeing her expression. She looked about ready to burst into tears. “What’s wrong?”

  Unconsciously he’d reached for her arm. Why the hell he’d done that he had no clue. He didn’t go around touching women without an invitation.

  He released her before she could protest. But if she’d noticed the too-personal gesture, she didn’t let on.

  “Nothing,” she replied, her expression too blank.

  He held her gaze long enough for her to see that he knew she was lying. It must not be something she did often, because a guilty blush rose to her cheeks.

  She was so damned cute. He wanted to . . .

  Fuck.

  He took a step back.

  Go dark. Don’t do anything to risk your cover.

  He heard the warnings loud and clear. But he couldn’t very well let her walk around alone. What if something happened?

  “Where’s your boyfriend?”

  The tightening around her mouth before she responded gave a big hint of what might be bothering her. Trouble in paradise? Now, that was a cryin’ shame.

  “He’s still at camp. He’s hanging around for the music. Julien plays guitar.”

  Dean didn’t care if he was Jimmy Hendrix returning from the dead for one last show. “And he let you walk back alone?”

  She immediately stiffened, giving him a scathing look. “He didn’t let me do anything. I make my own decisions.”

  From the way she said it, it was clear she thought he was some kind of medieval misogynistic pig.

  One of those, was she? He should have guessed. That kind of oversensitive feminist crap drove him crazy—not everything was a “microaggression.” Being a strong woman didn’t mean you could be stupid about personal safety. And all he’d meant was that the douche bag should have cared enough about her safety to insist on accompanying her.

  Although admittedly Julien probably wasn’t much of a defense.

  “Then your decision was a shitty one.”

  She looked stunned. “You just say whatever you think, don’t you? I wasn’t asking for your opinion.”

  “Well, you got it.” He gave her a long look, taking in the Tulane sweatshirt, tight jeans that left no room to hide anything, and flip-flops. “And unless you are a black belt jujitsu specialist or trained in self-defense and carrying some kind of weapon, I’m walking you to the guest house.”

  She looked up at him half outraged and half bemused, as if she couldn’t quite believe someone like him actually existed. It was a look he’d been on the receiving end of more than once.

  Eventually her mouth twisted with a smile. “How do you know I’m not?”

  “Because if you had any secret ninja skills, from the way you were looking at me a few minutes ago, I’d be on my ass right now.”

  • • •

  Annie couldn’t help it. She laughed.

  The Canadian captain was outrageous and yet oddly charming at the same time.

  She had to admit that walking back alone might not have been her best decision. She’d reacted so defensively only because he’d been blunt enough to call her on it.

  If she was tempted to argue with him, the group of men who’d just poured out onto the sidewalk ahead of them made her think again. The pub must have just closed, and by the level of boisterousness and general weaving, they’d been in there awhile. More than one didn’t look likely to be scared off by a look-into-the-eyes “hello.”

  “Alas,” she said, turning back to Dan. “No secret ninja skills, but I’m definitely wishing otherwise right about now.” She looked him up and down as he’d done her. The flood of warmth that poured through her told her that might not have been a good idea. Despite the bulky sweatshirt and loose jeans, the guy was built. Built. She pulled her eyes away before she was caught staring—again—and looked back up at him. “Although something tells me that you wouldn’t be so easy to put on your ass even if I were.”

  He grinned and the effect was startling. It felt as if she’d been struck square in the solar plexus.

  He was good-looking. Even with the stupid beard. What would he look like without it?

  That probably wasn’t something she should be thinking about.

  “You might be right,” he said. “But let me know if you ever want to try.”

  Was he flirting with her? It was hard to tell. The words were mildly provocative, but they’d been said matter-of-factly and without any innuendo.

  That was him, she realized. Matter-of-fact and without innuendo. What you saw was what you got. He wasn’t the type to sugarcoat. He would tell it like it was—or at least how he saw it—whether she liked it or not. She suspected there was quite a lot of my way or the highway with him. She couldn’t decide whether he was overbearing or old-fashioned. Probably a little of both.

  Still, she might not agree with him—and she guessed she wouldn’t on many things—but there was something refreshing about his no-BS straightforwardness.

  She supposed she wouldn’t lose her feminist card if she