Uniform Desires (Make Mine Military Romance) (16 page)

A man emerged from a room down the hall.

Tuck’s nerves spiked. He had only a fraction of a second to identify him.

Not his target.

He pulled the trigger and nailed him with another silent round. The man slumped to the floor, his cry for help nothing more than a startled gasp.

The door he’d emerged from flew open and men bearing guns poured out.

Tuck spoke quietly into his headset. "Get down." He didn’t bother to look back. His team would follow his orders without hesitation. He dropped with them, his M4A1 in front of him, and fired at the kneecaps of the men filling the hallway.

One by one, they went down, discharging their weapons, the bullets going wide and high.

In Pashto, the language spoken by most of the population of Afghanistan and Pakistan, Tuck told them to lay down their weapons.

When one of the injured enemies sat up and took aim, Tuck fired another round, putting him out of the game.

The injured enemy soldiers threw down their guns.

"Gator, clean up out here," Tuck whispered into his mic. "Reaper and Big Bird, you’re with me."

In the lead, Tuck stepped around the fallen Taliban and entered the room in a low crouch, ducking to the right. Nothing moved. Another door led into yet another unknown space. Tuck dove into the room and rolled to the side, weapon up.

As he entered, a man with an AK47 fired off a burst of rounds that whizzed past Tuck’s ears, missing him, but not by much. The man shouted for Tuck to drop his weapon.

Tuck fired at the shooter’s chest. He fell to the ground, revealing the man he’d been protecting. Their target, the Taliban leader they’d been briefed on. He stood straight, a pistol aimed at Tuck.

Though he wanted to pull the trigger, Tuck couldn’t shoot. His mission was to bring him out alive.

His hesitation cost him. A round, fired pointblank, hit him in the chest and flung him backward to land on his ass. If not for the armor plate protecting him, he’d be a dead man. He lay still for a moment, struggling to regulate his breathing.

Reaper used the stun gun, firing off a round that hit dead on and had the man flat on his back and twitching in seconds. "You okay?" He extended his hand to help Tuck to his feet.

"Yeah." Tuck motioned to Big Bird. "Take him."

The biggest, strongest man of the team, Big Bird lifted their target and flung him over his shoulder.

Still fighting to catch his breath, Tuck led the way back to the fence. Once outside the building, he scanned his surroundings and then checked back up at the top of the roof. No signs of enemy snipers. But that didn’t mean they were in the clear. They still had to navigate their way out of town and get back to the helicopter.

Leading the way, with Gator and Fish guarding the rear, Tuck hurried back along the narrow street to the outer walls of the village where the helicopter hovered nearby, waiting for their signal.

Tuck blinked the flashlight outfitted with a red lens at the hovering aircraft and it moved in, setting down for the briefest of moments, enough to get the six-man team inside. He reached over the back of the seat to the pilot and shouted, "Go!"

The Black Hawk lurched into the air, rising up and moving forward at the same time, hurrying to gain as much altitude as possible as they disappeared into the night sky, out of enemy sight and weapons range.

Not until they were well out of reach did Tuck release the breath he’d been holding and take stock of his team and their prisoner. All of them made it out alive and intact. That’s the way he liked it. He’d been the only one who would have sustained injury if he hadn’t been equipped with armor plating.

The co-pilot handed Tuck an aviation headset and he slipped it on.

"Nine minutes, twenty-five seconds." Gunnery Sergeant Sullivan’s raspy voice sounded in Tuck’s ear. "Better, but still not fast enough."

This had been a training mission, one they’d repeated five times in the past two weeks. Someone wanted them to get it right. The team was improving, but still needed to be quieter, faster, and more aware when the mission was real. The people they’d shot tonight had only been tagged with lasers. If this mission went live, the ammunition used against them would be live rounds.

Leaning back, Tuck held up nine fingers for his team to see and understand the repercussions of wearing out their welcome in a Taliban-held village.

The men nodded. Noise from the rotors precluded talking inside the chopper. When they got back to the base at Little Creek, Virginia, they’d debrief before being dismissed for the night and hitting the club.

They’d played the same scenario five times, improving with each iteration. All six members of the team were highly skilled Navy SEALs. The cream of the crop, the most highly disciplined officers and enlisted men from the Navy.

Like Tuck, the team was tired of playing pretend. They wanted to get in and do the job. But, like most missions, they didn’t know when they would go, who their target would be, or where they’d have to go to take him out. Only time and their commanding officers would tell. Only when they were about two hours out would they get their final orders and all the details.

In the meantime, they’d be off duty until the following morning’s PT, unless orders came in that night. It happened. But if Tuck waited around his apartment for it to come about, he’d go stir-crazy. Besides, he wanted to see O’Connell and pick up where they’d left off the night before.

Back at base, Delaney O’Connell climbed out of the pilot’s seat and grabbed her flight bag. Adrenaline still thrumming through her veins, she knew going back to her apartment for the night wasn’t an option.

Her co-pilot, Lt. Mark Doggett, aka K-9, fell in step beside her. "The team’s headed to DD’s Corral for a beer and some dancing. I know you don’t usually like to hang out, but it’s been a tough week. Wanna go?"

"Sure," she said, a little too quickly. Any other time, she’d have cut him off with a quick, but polite,
no.
But if she went back to her apartment alone, Tuck might show up and what good would that bring? Somehow, she’d fallen off the abstinence wagon with a vengeance and she was having a hard time getting back on.

"Great." K-9 cleared his throat. "Do you need a ride?"

"No, thank you. I prefer to drive myself."

"Probably a good idea. These Navy guys work hard and play harder."

As well she knew. Tuck had played her in bed like a musician played an electric guitar, hitting every one of her chords like a master.

Her body quivered with remembered excitement, her core heating to combustible levels. Maybe going to the club was a bad idea. If Tuck was there...

She squared her shoulders. They didn’t call her Razor for nothing. She would cut him off like she’d done so many others who’d tried getting too close. And soon. Walking away from a physical relationship was a hell of a lot easier than walking away from an emotionally involved one. Delaney refused to invest her emotions in another man with an addiction to adrenaline rushes. She’d been there once and would not go there again.

Before Tuck, she’d gone two years without a man in her life. Two years since Mad Max, Captain Chase Madden, bought it on a leadership interdiction mission in Pakistan. When a Special Forces soldier had been left behind, he’d gone back into hostile territory against his commanding officer’s order. His helicopter had been shot down. Max had been injured, but was still alive until the Taliban found him and dragged him through the streets tied to the back of a truck. By the time they untied him, he’d bled out.

Delaney had been devastated. No one knew she and Mad Max had gotten engaged two weeks prior to his deployment. And no one would, if she could help it. Being a part of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment was an honor she took very seriously.

She understood her position was precarious. On more than one occasion, her CO had told her she was on probation as the only female ever entrusted with the honor of flight leader in an all-male corps. The powers that be were watching her every move. One misstep and she would be out, and she’d worked too damned hard to get here. Three years of training, and working her way up the food chain, and a rock-hard body, at least where it counted, had gotten her noticed.

Fooling around with Tuck, one of the Navy SEALs assigned to this training mission, wouldn’t go over well with her commander. But the strain of anticipation and the long bout of celibacy had taken their toll on Delaney. She’d needed a release. When Tuck and Reaper offered to help her change her flat tire, she never dreamed she’d end up in bed with one of them. But those damned SEALs with their massive biceps and quads...

Holy shit. What a mistake. And Tuck would probably think their liaison meant something.

Which it didn’t.

She didn’t need a man in her life. Not when her missions were as dangerous as they were. And a relationship with a SEAL was as dumb as it got. Her in the Army, him in the Navy. Both deployable at a moment’s notice and most likely to opposite ends of the earth. Only Kismet was what brought them together at Little Creek, Virginia, to train for a possible mission. If they deployed together, their sleeping together would only complicate matters. And she needed a clear head to complete the missions she would be responsible for flying.

Tonight, she’d tell Tuck not to expect anything. She wasn’t into commitment or the long-term relationships.

Tuck lurked in the hallway outside the ladies’ room, waiting for Delaney to emerge.
 

When she stepped out, he snagged her arm, pulling her into the shadows at the end of the hall and into his tight embrace.

At first stiff, as soon as she realized who it was, she semi-melted into him, her body fitting perfectly against his. "Damn it, Tuck, you scared the crap out of me." She batted his arm and stared up, her brow twisted into a tight frown. "You can’t go around grabbing me."

He grinned. "Kiss me."

"No."

"Then I’ll have to kiss you."

"What part of no—"

Almost a full foot taller than the petite, perfectly packaged helicopter pilot, Tuck bent to close the distance, sealing her mouth with his and cutting off her argument. Loving the feel of her warm, full lips against his, he clamped his arms around her and lifted, wrapping her legs around his waist and spinning her until her back was against the wall. He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue past her teeth and whipping down the length of hers in a long sexy slide.

For a full fifteen seconds, she resisted, her hands pressing against his chest. Then her fingers curled into his shirt and she kissed him back. Not gently, but like she’d gone without food for a week and was hungry for him, her mouth working over his, devouring him.

God, she tasted so good, like peaches and rum. Sweet, tangy, and devilishly intoxicating.

When he broke for air, she leaned her head to the side. "I swore I wouldn’t do this again."

"Why?" Tuck trailed kisses down the line of her exposed neck. He paused at the base of her throat where her pulse thrummed like the patter of machine gun bullets—fast, furious, and adrenaline-pumping. He liked it when he made her excited.

"Whatever this is between us has to end," she insisted, even as her thighs tightened around his hips.

"Why now?" Tuck slid his hand down her arm, skimming the side of her breast. The nipple beneath her T-shirt puckered temptingly. His cock hardened in response. Where she’d been hesitant to start something physical with him, in the end, she’d flown at him like she couldn’t get enough.

He thought once would be enough with Delaney. That once had lasted all night and through not two but three orgasms. She’d come so readily, she had to have been denying herself for a very long time.

They both knew the relationship wasn’t meant to last. Not in their line of business. Members of elite forces that could be mobilized at a moment’s notice didn’t get involved. It never worked. But that shouldn’t stop them from grabbing a little physical release between deployments.

Tuck was all for physical release with no emotional ties. He told women at the start of sex it was purely physical. Don’t expect him to call or ever see her again. Some were okay with that. Some others, not so much. He’d walked away with no regrets.

Until he’d met Delaney. She’d pretty much echoed his stance on relationships. Don’t ask for more. It would not be forthcoming.

"What about Cory? The three of us have been pretty tight these past couple of days."

They’d hung out at Cory’s apartment on several occasions, drinking beer, watching sports, and scarfing down pizza. Just this morning, Cory had mentioned he could really see himself with Delaney on a regular basis. A twinge of guilt tugged at Tuck’s conscience. He’d never kept anything from Cory. He was the brother he’d never had growing up. "Cory will get over it."

"And if he finds out we’ve taken our friendship to another level?"

Tuck’s jaw tightened. "He’s a big boy. He can take it." His hand slid beneath Delaney’s shirt, rising toward her breast.

"Did you know he asked me out on a date?"

Tuck’s hand stopped short of her bra and he straightened, eyes narrowing. A stab of something intense ripped through him. He felt an odd sense of wanting to pound his chest and roar that this woman was his. But he knew that wasn’t so. "When?"