Chapter 2

Well, that had been a sterling example of a well-put together, verbally competent man, with buckets of emotional intelligence.

Not.

In fact, Dare thought, as he strode down the cool forest path to the beach, it had been a bloody ordeal.

First, the shock of seeing her. Abby. The woman who’d been his heart. His damn heart. The woman who’d loved him enough to support him like no other through his lean years, once upon a time.

His babe. Abby.

No longer. He hadn’t seen her for three, long years. The shock of it had punched him in the gut, knocked the breath from him. He knew how to be prepared for anything—it was part of his military training. Yet somehow, seeing Abby Haines was harder to deal with than sniper fire or an entire platoon of enemy soldiers hell bent on killing him. Way harder.

Then he’d had to contend with her, right in front of him. The tropical humidity had painted a thin sheen of sweat on her, mingled a fine, sandy grit into it. Her damp hair had stuck to her temples, flat, and her clothes were wrinkled.

Yeah, he thought, as he reviewed the mental picture.

She’d always been hot.

The worst of the chance meeting though, had been the look in her eyes. The shock, then the cool disdain that had quickly replaced it.

It hurt again, fresh.

But the absolute worst had been knowing that he’d put all that there, all by himself. Even though he’d tried like hell to keep her, done whatever he could.

No man wanted to drown. And being without Abby… was drowning.

He’d drowned.

He continued on toward the crashing surf, glad he knew the island down to a T. It saved him time he didn’t have right now, while his mind went on its own version of a shocked bender, as he replayed the last few minutes. And berated himself for being a moron.

Like…what the hell had that nonsense been, when he’d actually faced her, and flapped his gums?

No hey girl. Good to see you. Damn, you’re looking good.

Basic English had fled his brain. Apparently, when she was in the room, his mind pitched into neanderthal mode. Or Hulk-mode, as his sister Tabitha would say.

Yeah. Call it what the whole damn episode had been. FUBAR. Fucked up beyond all recognition.

Or as civilians said, so concisely—a clusterfuck.

He pushed swaying fronds from his path, and thought. He couldn’t help wishing one of his close buddies from Delta North was here to lend a hand. Nathan. Eli. Parker. Even Mack.

They’d get it. They wouldn’t say anything, just look at him with sympathy. Slap a sturdy hand on his back.

While the woman he was still messed up over wanted to hurl a hefty ICBM at him.

Despite all the grim realities of his current situation, though, a new mental image played through his mind. Memories rushed in, engulfed him.

Abby, all those years ago. On his arm, laughing. Delighted simply to be in his presence. His shock—the shock that never went away— at the adoring look in her eyes, the one she couldn’t quite hide, even with all her sass and teasing. He’d been the guy from the wrong side of the tracks, with no prospects. A loser. Only she’d never seen him that way.

He’d been her hero. And that had been long before Delta North, before he’d sorted himself out. She’d loved him simply the way he was.

The recollection gutted him.

Once they parted, he’d drifted. If it hadn’t been for the urging of his buddies in Jack’s Bay to sign up for the military reserve unit in their small town, he didn’t know where he’d have ended up. But the example of the men, their determination and their ongoing, strong-willed actions to curate good and worthy lives had transformed him.

It had been the saving of him.

It hadn’t been easy. But he’d worked hard, and then the surprise call had come, the one that really changed his life. Soldiers were needed to support Canada’s military efforts in Afghanistan. Would he serve?

Hell, yeah. He’d found himself overseas. Yet he hadn’t been ready for the next thing that had come his way, due to a critical juncture in the war.

The formation of the Delta North Team. An elite unit cobbled together from both Canadians and Americans, and on the Canadian side, from regiments spread out across the country. Hell, some of the guys were from out west. Sven Golden, the golden boy ski patroller, was there, an expert in search and rescue. Dante Knight, also from Jack’s Bay originally, who’d gone on to become a worldwide hockey sensation. He’d been there too.

The unit was special, born of a unique need for elite missions. And with their special talents and skills, the Delta North Team had changed the course of the war. The unit’s handle was perfect. Delta, because of the American component. North, specifically honoring the Canadians in the team.

We, the North.

He still bristled with pride when he heard that phrase. Same with Delta North. Delta Force teams were American units, and feared. Delta North—some called them Delta North Force—followed the proud tradition of their forerunner, the Devil’s Brigade, which had been a joint American-Canadian commando unit as well, and came to inspire fear, too.

More memories rushed in on him. The men that were still his blood brothers swam into his mind.

Funny. They always did, when he faced trouble.

First, Nathan Hero, from their hometown of Jack’s Bay. A good man with the awful past he never seemed to be able to get beyond, even after he’d served so successfully, as a SEAL. Everyone in Jack’s Bay hated his family, and lumped him together with them. The alleged murder within its confines hadn’t helped. The town understandably had no great love for the Heros, but it wasn’t fair they painted Nathan with the same brush.

Parker Bowles had been there, too. Cheerful and on good terms with life, he worked in the National Park Service out of Jack’s Bay, as a civilian. Saving the environment and endangered animals were his passions. He’d served as a Canadian Air Force pilot previously, then answered the call for Delta North, too.

Then, there’d been Rufus. A regular guy, quiet. Basic, some said. But the dude was deep. Known as the gentle storekeeper and butcher on Jacqueline Street, the main drag in their tiny town, he’d served, too. Been dependable as hell.

And there were more. One of Dare’s best friends, in fact. Eli Austin, the insanely brilliant tech geek of the known universe, had been a brother in arms. A dark man in his musings at times, he’d been critical to Delta North activities. Only he’d left Delta North earlier than expected, and soon after, disappeared out of all their lives. Left his fiancé, one cold Christmas Eve. The town still rocked with the news, never quite got over it.

Eli’s gone. Can you believe? Wonder where the hell he is.

But they were all men he’d served with, that he loved like brothers. They’d depended on each other for their lives.

That unit, and the men in it…had been the saving of him.

His mind wandered finally to the man he respected most of all. Dark Storm—from British Columbia, known as Cole Dawson in civilian life—had been the leader of the elite platoon. Despite the man’s handle, he’d been one of the steadiest men Dare had ever met. Dare had studied him carefully, having lost his own Dad at a young age. Dark Storm—or simply Storm—was strong, decisive. Yet not unable to feel, to have compassion, in the odd, surprising moments when no one expected it.

The fact that the man had surfaced later in Dare’s world as partner to his sister Tabitha, had shocked him. And…pleased him.

Yet his own life, once he’d gotten back, hadn’t been as satisfying as he’d expected it to be.

He’d wanted to make that life whole again. He built his contractor business, finished his schooling. Volunteered as a firefighter.

But he needed more. Wanted more.

Now here he was, without any of them to help. To guide him. What the hell would they do, any of them, in his situation?

Dare stepped carefully over a tangle of thick roots that cut across his path as he finally emerged from the lush forest. Damn tripping hazard, leading straight to Abby’s tent. He’d take care of that soon enough. He looked up, saw her stalking off purposefully in McMaster’s direction. The heat rose in him. He watched as the male models teased her. Decent guys, he could tell. Yet still, his gut tightened. He fought to rein in the instinct to brand her in front of all of them.

Me Tarzan, she Jane.

My Jane.

Dare gave a shaky breath. For someone who’d held his own in Special Ops, the woman from his past could still bring out the stupid in him. And even if they couldn’t get past their former issues, he so badly didn’t want to add to it.

He was going to have to get that particular brand of stupid under control. And the only way he could think of doing so at the moment was to corral his emotions as tightly as possible.