Cover Me (34 page)

“That sounds… huge. But workable. You understand though that it would take an

independent, strong person to make such a radical change. A damsel in distress just isn’t going to cut it, especially for a guy who’s got a scary dangerous career that takes him all around the world for extended periods of time.”

He raised his hands in surrender, angles of his beard-stubbled face starker with the morning light streaking through the windows. “Okay, I get the message and completely agree.

You are not the clinging-vine sort, and believe me, I respect that. You can take care of yourself, and quite well, I might add—”

“Thank you.” She stopped him with a nip to his bottom lip. “I needed to hear you say that and know that you mean it. I think we make a formidable team, you, me, and Chewie.”

“I concur.” He nipped her right back, then again, until his hands were in her hair and his body covering hers on the rug.

Gliding her hands over his shoulders, along his back, she stared up into his beautiful cocoa-brown eyes and realized she could lose herself in those no matter where she lived. “Where will you be transferring to once you return from your four months in the Middle East?”

“Ever heard of Patrick Air Force Base?”

“No. Is there snow?”

He winced, rolling onto his side, worry furrowing his forehead. “Actually, it’s in Florida, near Cape Canaveral.”

“No snow then.”

“Afraid not. As a matter of fact, you’ll need lots of sunscreen.”

Florida? Somewhere like Washington State or North Dakota might have been a little easier to grasp, but then she’d never been one to embrace ease. “I’ve always dreamed of visiting the beach again. And in the meantime, it’s not like you’re going to the moon. We’ll be able to talk, right?”

“Periodically, yes. Some of the guys set up Skype accounts.”

“I definitely prefer face-to-face Internet now.” She shivered to think how easily her seemingly innocent Internet café had been a portal for such evil. Brett Livingston had set up shop in her backyard, closing down their communication to the outside world so that everything was filtered through him.

Funny that she’d grown up in a community that shunned most technology, while she’d embraced it, setting up a business that helped residents connect to the world. Yet she’d probably walk away from this nightmare more wary of technology than most people.

“You’ll always know who you’re talking to,” Wade promised as he knuckled her chin upward and kissed her frown away. “And I’ll be able to tell you to your face how very much you mean to me.”

Her heart did a little flip over the touch of his mouth, the promise in his words. “How much would that be?”

“More than you can imagine. More than I could have imagined feeling for someone.” His chocolate-brown eyes deepened to molten sincerity. “I’m falling in love with you, Sunny Foster.

And I say falling, because what I’m feeling increases every time I see you. And my gut is telling me I’ll keep right on falling in love with you more and more every day.”

He kissed her before she could answer back, and she so very much wanted to share the words bubbling up inside her. Love for him had rolled over her fast and fierce, but then she wasn’t a woman to shy away from a challenge. And one thing was certain: Wade Rocha was a brick-headed, sexy, loyal-to-the-end kind of man who’d taken her whole heart.

Cupping his beard-stubbled face in her palms, she vowed, “I love you too, so much I can’t even come close to telling you in just one night. I’m going to need lots of nights and days, months, years, to express it all.”

His forehead fell to rest against hers. “I’m sorry we don’t have longer before I leave.”

She grazed her heel up the back of his leg, already planning a homecoming to remember.

“Then we’d better start making every minute count.”

Epilogue

Patrick Air Force Base—4½ months later

He’d never looked forward to a homecoming more.

Inside the cavernous C-17 cargo plane, Wade lined up with his PJ team and other airmen returning from their rotation in the Middle East. Beyond the open load ramp, the sun beat down on the crowd of waiting families and friends with flags and banners. A military brass band played, but it was tough to tell which was louder, the music or the cheers.

He’d gone from Alaska to his deployment in Afghanistan and was returning to his new duty station at Patrick Air Force Base in Florida. All his household goods—not much to speak of—were in storage. But he had somewhere to bunk in the meantime. At Sunny’s place.

The fact that she’d actually moved here still stunned him, humbled him. In fact, she’d embraced the adventure of it all, as he should have known she would. After seeing Misty through her surgery and recovery, Sunny had landed a job at the Patrick AFB gym and even found a tiny bungalow to rent, tucked away in a marshy cove. Nothing here would be as isolated or open as Alaska, but she assured him an ocean view provided some of the vastness her pioneer soul craved.

One shuffle at a time along the cargo deck, he moved forward as they gathered gear and made their way toward the back ramp. Anticipation hummed inside him as tangibly as the idling jet engines. He ached to hold her, catch the scent of her hair, the taste of her. They’d spent every day together before he deployed, but still had spent eight times as many days apart as with each other.

They’d done their best to stay connected, talking and cyberdating via Skype, and true to his word, he’d stuck to webcam, face-to-face discussions where they’d actually learned a lot about each other—beyond where to touch to drive her over the edge fastest. Although he was looking forward to resurrecting that knowledge the second they got to her bungalow.

As much as he’d missed sleeping with her, he most regretted not being with her during all the massive changes in her life. Not everything that had come into the community via email had been a lie. The surgeon Misty had communicated with was real and the offer to perform her surgery at his teaching hospital had been valid. It hadn’t been completely free by a long shot, but she had her hearing back. She and Flynn had decided to move back home, raise her nephew, and lead the community in rebuilding with a more open environment.

Not that a mountainside on the Aleutian Islands was ever going to be a vacation

playground. But there would most definitely be watchful eyes on that little off-the-grid village from now on.

The records recovered from the boat wreckage had rocked the intelligence community.

He was privy to just the tip of the iceberg, and only that much because Lasky needed help connecting some dots. Asking Wade sat better with the agent than letting Sunny in on such explosive, top-secret information. Wade was still rocked to his boots over learning Brett Livingston had been aiding Russian mob groups smuggling terrorist spies into the U.S. through Alaska. Deputy Rand Smith had been his hired assassin. Sunny had been that close to death so many times. That bastard Livingston had cut a deal to avoid the death penalty. Already over a dozen arrests had been quietly made, all prior members of Sunny’s community. She and the rest of the village would never know the full extent of how horribly they’d been manipulated.

For the best, in his opinion. Sunny already had enough pain to carry around, with her brother still missing.

Wade’s boots thudded down the metal ramp and finally the bottlenecked human traffic jam eased. He stepped out onto the tarmac, searching the masses behind the roped off area until finally he saw
her
.

Sunny.

Her hair loose and lifting in the wind, she wore a floaty green dress and a smile brighter than the Florida rays. A pink stripe gleamed in her hair these days and he loved her unpredictability. Hell, he just loved her.

Dropping his gear, Wade double-timed toward her. The ropes gave way and things got more than a little chaotic. He sidestepped a family of five huddle-hugging and a young couple crying buckets.

He found Sunny just as she found him, meeting him halfway. Before he could speak she was in his arms and he wasn’t sure who was holding tighter. His eyes closed and for the most awesome second he could remember, he just breathed in the scent of her hair that somehow still carried the crisp perfume of wide-open Alaska spaces. The sound of the band and other reunited couples faded away.

Cradling her face in his palms, he kissed her, then kissed her again because he could, and that was something he did
not
take for granted. Words became jumbled in between, but no doubt they were on the same page.
I love you. I missed you. God, I’ve waited so long to hold you again.

A jolt against his leg finally hauled his attention back to the crowded runway. He looked down to find Chewie head-butting his leg, demanding equal time.

“Well hello, big guy. Sorry I didn’t see you there at first.” Wade dropped to his knees, scratching the dog behind his ears. “Thanks for taking such good care of her while I was away, pal.”

The malamute mutt garbled a half-howling response.

A
second
dog peeked its head around Sunny’s leg. Now that, he hadn’t expected.

Laughing, Wade patted the wirehaired scrap on a leash and looked up at Sunny. “Who’s this fella?”

Sunny scooped up the little terrier mix of some sort. “This is Princess Leia. Or Princess, for short.” She straightened the dog’s patriotic bandanna. “Your mother responded so well to Chewie when I flew out to meet her, your father and I thought a small lapdog might be a good idea. He asked me to pick out a good candidate and suggested we bring it to her.”

That she would reach out to his family on her own, that she would find a way to give his mother comfort… So much emotion welled up inside him he cleared his throat, twice, before he could push words free. “You’re too amazing, do you know that?”

“You’re not a slouch yourself there, superhero.” She pressed a hand to his chest, then his neck, his cheek, as if she couldn’t get enough of touching him in the flesh.

He folded his hand over hers and pressed it to his heart, which damn near thumped through his chest just because he stood next to her. “I don’t take for granted how difficult this move must have been for you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you saying that.” She sidled closer, a glint of promise in her hazel eyes. “And you can show me just how grateful you are once we get back to my place.”

“Roger that, pretty lady. I’ve got you covered.”

Acknowledgments

While reading an article in National Geographic about kayaking in the Aleutian Islands, I was completely fascinated by this region that Russian missionaries labeled “the place that God forgot.” Upon further research, I realized the Aleutian Islands have a long and fascinating history, in spite of their sparse population. I knew I had found the perfect setting for a book bubbling to life in my brain. While the story may have been inspired by an article and its amazing photographs, the people and the towns I have written about are completely fictional. In telling their tale, I hope to have captured the vast Alaska spirit and the breathtaking bravery of elite pararescuemen. In my hope of doing so, I have had the generous help of many. However, any mistakes, inaccuracies, poetic license, overall stretching the realm of possibility, rests completely on my shoulders!

Thank you, Deb Werksman, a gifted editor with endless energy and wit. I’ll be forever grateful for the day you said, “I have this idea…” It’s a delight to work with you and the entire Sourcebooks team. Barbara Collins Rosenberg, my longtime agent and trusted champion, I appreciate all you do to keep me focused, steady—and under contract. Sending a huge shout-out of gratitude to my author peeps, Joanne Rock and Stephanie Newton. I don’t know what I would do without your brilliant critiques, genius brainstorming, and amazing taste in junk food.

Technical advisors rock! And I have been truly blessed to hear the daring PJ tales shared by former air force pararescueman Dr. Ronald Marshall, DC. And as always, I would be lost without my own air force aviator husband, Robert, who is always ever ready with brainstorming help and fact-checking reads. Thank you both for your brave and selfless service to our country!

Much gratitude goes to Karen Tucker, RN, who so generously offered her medical knowledge and eagle eye for detail. Thanks also to my go-to pals for insider tips on Alaska living, Leah Marie Brown and Patricia Marshall Brow.

Most of all, thank you to my precious children, Brice, Haley, Robbie, and Maggie, for your love and patient restocking of my Diet Cokes during deadlines. And as always, all my love to my hero husband, Rob.

About the Author

USA Today
bestseller Catherine Mann has won both the prestigious RITA Award and Booksellers’ Best Award. With over two million books in print, her work has been released in more than twenty countries. Catherine resides on the Florida coast with her aviator husband, their four children, and an ever-growing menagerie of pets. For more information:

http://www.catherinemann.com

Read on for an excerpt from

Hot Zone

Book 2 in the Elite Force series

Coming December 2011

From Sourcebooks Casablanca

Chapter 1

The world had caved in on Amelia Bailey. Literally.

Aftershocks from the earthquake still rumbled the gritty earth under her cheek, jarring her out of her hazy micronap. Dust and rocks showered around her. Her skin, her eyes, everything itched and ached after hours—she’d lost track of how many—beneath the rubble.

The quake had to have hit at least seven on the Richter Scale. Although when you ended up with a building on top of you, somehow a Richter scale didn’t seem all that pertinent.

She squeezed her lids closed. Inhaling. Exhaling. Inhaling, she drew in slow, even breaths of the dank air filled with dirt. Was this what it was like to be buried alive? She pushed back the panic as forcefully as she’d clawed out a tiny cavern for herself.

This wasn’t how she’d envisioned her trip to the Bahamas when she’d offered to help her brother and sister-in-law with the legalities of international adoption.