Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)(96)

And she’d be thinking about him, too. And all the anxiety came back and made her chest ache. She’d be thinking about him dodging bullets and bombs, and there would be so many sleepless nights. She was already miserable just knowing it, and her eyes filled up again.

His eyes filled, too, but he smiled down at her.

“Why do we do this to ourselves?” She swiped at her cheeks.

He kissed her. And his arms wrapped around her, warm and strong.

She melted into him and felt his kiss, and it filled her heart with so much love she thought it might burst. And she tried to savor it, tried to drink in enough emotion and courage and lust and friendship to sustain her while he was away.

He pulled back and looked down at her. “That’s why.”





* * *





Hailey sounded surprised to hear from him.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Back on base.” A Humvee zipped by, and he turned away from the noise.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you,” she said. “I figured the Audrey Hepburn movie marathon scared you off.”

“Yeah, well. Nice try, but SEALs are tough to scare.” He tried to keep it light. Maybe then she wouldn’t realize it wasn’t the classic movies that made him sneak out of her room at the crack of dawn but the fact that he was a complete and total coward.

“I thought you had leave,” she said.

“We got called back early.”

“Does that mean you’re going somewhere?”

“I can’t really say.”

“Okay, well . . . when will you be back?”

He didn’t respond.

“You can’t say that, either?”

“I can’t really—”

“It’s all right. I get it. Anyway, I’m glad you called,” she said. “I probably should have called you to tell you thanks for the referral you texted me. I’m starting a collection. Everyone I know is recommending a shrink.”

Luke walked over to a chain-link fence. On the other side, his teammates were busy staging their gear. In only a few hours, they were spinning up on the mission.

Hailey’s tone of voice had shifted, and maybe he should have done what he’d wanted to do and left town without making this awkward-as-shit phone call.

Sack up, Jones.

He cleared his throat. “I got that name from a buddy of mine who lost a leg a few years ago. He’s been working with her ever since. I hear she’s, you know, really good with veterans,” he babbled on. “And she’s one, too. She was in Iraq. So I thought maybe she’d get where you’re coming from. More than that other guy.”

She didn’t respond, and he started to think she’d hung up.

“Hailey?”

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate the referral.”

It was a very careful response. She hadn’t said she’d call the shrink, she’d merely said thank you. And Luke smiled, because he was a world-class bullshit artist, and that was just the kind of thing he’d say to get someone off his back.

So maybe she was annoyed with him, but he still hoped she’d make the call.

“Did you see the news out of Houston?” he asked, changing the subject.

“The assassination attempt? I saw it. Why?”

“You helped with that. I don’t know all the details, but I know the intel you provided helped. I thought you should know.”

“But even if you did know the details, you wouldn’t tell me, right?”

“That’s true.” Damn it, he could not lie to this woman.

“Well . . . thanks for being honest, at least. It’s actually very refreshing.”

Luke turned and looked out at the surf. He felt a strange tightness in his chest. He wanted another night with her. He wanted to watch the ocean with her and talk with her and even sit through freaking Breakfast at Tiffany’s with her if that was what she wanted.

And he suddenly knew he’d played this wrong, and he was an idiot. He should have left her thinking what she’d been thinking when he slunk out of her room at 0600.

“I have to go,” he said, and she laughed at his abruptness.

“All right, well . . . thanks. For the shrink. And for talking.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“If you’re ever in Boston, you should give me a call.”

“I will.”

He got off the phone and stared out at the water. He’d finally done it. For the first time since he’d known her, he was pretty sure he’d managed to lie.





Chapter Twenty-six





Three months later



Derek was bone-tired and jetlagged, and the only thing keeping him going was the promise of tomorrow. After grabbing some food and a few hours’ sleep, he planned to hit the road.

“Come on, one beer,” Cole said, catching up to him in the parking lot on base.

“Can’t do it. I’ve got an eighteen-hour drive tomorrow.” It was going to be straight-up hell, but it would be worth it, because at the end of the road was Elizabeth.

“Come on, man. The whole team’s there. One beer. It’ll help you get to sleep.”