Code Name: Ghost (A Warrior's Challenge 1) (7 page)

“Besides, I believe I owe our resident Maple
Leaf a drink, don’t I?” he said, without a hint of pleasantry.

His words sounded like a light-hearted
tease, but his tone said something else entirely. The SEALs lived
paradoxical lives. It would take time to learn their
idiosyncrasies. He and his team dealt with countries wanting to
annihilate anything American. They fought a silent war. It was one
of the most dangerous professions in the world, and now she was
part of that world.

* * * *

They rendezvoused at a popular bar, mostly
populated by base personnel. The lounge sat shore side. Instead of
smelling like stale beer and old wood, it wafted with a salty
breeze. The décor reminded her of old San Diego charm, with a hint
of Mexico. Large windows opened up to the ocean and a sprawling
patio. Inside, tables jammed the space with barely a hip’s width
between them.

Making her way through the tangle of chairs,
a couple whistles bounced off the walls, and hence the reason why
she didn’t want to come. She was well past whistles and catcalls.
Suddenly they ceased, but it was because the Commander placed his
hand on her shoulder, steering her toward a set of tables in the
back. That in itself said a lot about who the man was and the
respect he held.

“Commander, you’ve brought company,” a man
in his early thirties said, rising from his chair. A lean, but very
muscular body and dark Hollywood good looks came attached to the
guy who grinned at her. “Hello, I’m Mace Callahan,” he said,
extending his hand.

“Hi Mace, I’m Kayla.”

He laughed and pulled out a chair for her.
“She doesn’t recognize me without the grease on my face,” Mace
said. “You’ve got my shirt, Snow White.”

“Oh, right. I washed it. I’ll leave it with
the Commander.” She turned and introduced Gord and Barry, as the
rest of the Base Command staff found them. With the shuffle of
chairs and a few tables, they all managed to fit.

“Men, I think you should talk to Snow White
about how one little lady was able to evade all of you,” the
Commander said, giving them all a severe glance.

With just a look from the Commander, the
SEAL named Nathan moved over one seat, and the Commander sat down
beside her. She could tell he was giving them the gears, and she
sensed it wasn’t for the first time. Again, his words conflicted
with his tone. Had she read him wrong, was there still a man
lingering behind the hardcore warrior?

“So, where were you hiding to begin with?”
Mace asked, sliding a finger across her hand to attract her
attention.

Her brows rose. “You want me to give away
trade secrets? Sorry, torture is the only way you’ll get it out of
me,” she stated, giving him a wink.

He laughed and leaned back in his chair.
“What can we get you? I think we all owe you one.”

“She’ll have rum,” the Commander said,
turning to look for a waitress.

“Rum, huh?” the man who’d been introduced to
her as Lieutenant Cobbs said. He was the SEAL who’d been standing
next to the Commander on the bow of the harbor patrol vessel.

He sat beside Mace, but he was much larger
in frame. Where Commander Austen’s features were true Californian
with dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a dimple in his chin, the
Lieutenant was dark, with sharp grey eyes, not to the mention very
dangerous looking. She knew the features of a man didn’t relay the
true nature of him, but she certainly wouldn’t want to be the enemy
and have to stare Cobbs down.

“Commander,” a sexy voice purred from behind
them. “You’re back, that’s good to see.” A woman in her late
twenties with ample breasts mounding from her tight pink T-shirt,
and her navel ring visible above her low-slung jeans, closed in on
him. “What can I get you?”

“Amanda,” the Commander greeted, his steely
eyes warming as they shared a brief look.

Although she was no Eleanor of Aquitaine,
Kayla recognized sultry when she saw it. Amanda glued her gaze to
the Commander, and her chest rose a little quicker. She understood
completely, the Commander carried invisible weapons—an overpowering
essence of male, dominance. Translated, it came down to hot, hard
and sexy.

Before long, there were plenty of women
hanging about. SEAL groupies, she figured. Gord and Barry didn’t
mind getting confused with the SEALs and grasped the opportunity
with both hands, as well as a couple of the girls. The bar flooded
with bodies as people came in on the Friday night to relax and put
one back. A live band rocked the place with sultry southern
tunes.

Mace’s arm lay across the top of her chair,
and every time he talked to her, his fingers brushed her shoulder.
He’d moved around to her side as soon as Gord vacated it, and he
didn’t seem to want to give it up, even when a couple of blonde
sweethearts had tried to attract his attention. “They’re good,
aren’t they?” he said, his mouth far too close to her ear.

“They’re very good,” she said, giving him a
grin. Mace was just too cute, and way too young.

“The lead singer is a SEAL, and the rest of
the guys are support for Team Seven.”

“Really?” That surprised her. They were damn
good with the lead singer’s gritty voice swaying with a languid
chorus about New Orleans. She could almost feel the moist heat
against her skin and taste Cajun on her tongue.

She sipped on her drink, enjoying the
boisterous conversations around her. She’d already stayed for one
drink too many, and was thinking about leaving when the song
ended.

The lead vocalists said to the crowd, “Turns
out I’m not the only singer in here tonight.”

She swiveled in her chair and saw Barry
standing beside the stage. Oh, shit! She was going to kill him.

“Apparently the new voice we’ve all been
hearing coming from Base Command can carry a tune, and she’s here
tonight. Let’s see if we can coax her up here. Come on up, Snow
White.”

She shook her head vigorously and turned
away from the stage. Maybe if she hid under the table, no one would
find her.

“Snow White, yeah.”

The voices rose at her table. She shook her
head, dropping her gaze to her lap. Barry was definitely going to
rue this day. Mace and Tony jumped up and pulled on her hands,
yanking her right out of her seat.

“Make way,” they shouted. She dug her heels
in, but it wasn’t helping with the two muscle-bound men practically
picking her up and carrying her.

“Guys, really. I can’t sing. Barry’s
drunk.”

“Here she is folks, give her a big hand,”
the lead singer said, pulling her up onto the stage. “So what’s it
going to be, Snow White?” the guy asked, beaming a smile in her
direction, and curling his arm around her to give her a little
reassurance.

She sighed and looked out across the packed
bar, and then at the guy on the keyboards. “
Someone Like You
by Adele.” The guy on the electronic piano nodded. The crowd
applauded, and she took the microphone. “I sure hope you’re all
drunk enough to forgive me after this.”

* * * *

“Sit down,” Tony and Lieutenant Cobbs yelled
out at almost the same time.

His team certainly was taken with her, Thane
thought. He turned his chair toward the stage as the piano man’s
fingers introduced the sweet but sad melody. When the first notes
rolled from her tongue, he leaned forward. Her throaty tones curled
around him like Egyptian silk, and when she hit the chorus, the
power of her vocals speared every heart in the room, but for
certain—his.

“You’re gawking, Ghost,” he heard Red say
next to his ear.

He didn’t bother denying it, but he closed
the gap between his lips, and hung onto his swelling heart because
it had never hammered in his chest like this before. She had
definitely increased his pulse when he’d first seen her, but hell…
Every man and woman in the place went silent, and when she hit the
chorus again with that damn voice, people jumped to their feet
realizing they were seeing something incredible, putting their
hands together clapping and calling out to her.

Kayla had everyone in her spell until the
song ended. He didn’t remember getting to his feet, but that’s
where he was, like everyone else. She gave a quick little bow,
offered the piano man a thank you, and departed the stage.

Hands accosted her as she made her way back
to the table. Two sailors jumped in front of her and kissed her on
the cheek. Kayla had almost made it back when a hand shot out and
grabbed her. She jerked to a halt, her smile dissipating. Something
flashed in her eyes as she tried to pull away. Fear? Anger?

A fierce slice of concern shot through him,
and set his feet in motion, but he stopped. With a sedate smile and
a couple of words, the guy released her. She clutched her wrist and
flexed her fingers as she carried on. He’d hurt her, although her
expression revealed nothing.

The team practically assaulted Kayla with
hugs when she reached their table. She gave them all a thank you,
then leaned over for her purse. Without a word of goodbye, she
turned for the door.

* * * *

Man, she had to leave. These crazy buggers
had to be all stone deaf or seriously pie-eyed. A hand gently
grasped her shoulder when she straightened up, and the Commander
leaned into her.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes, sir, I have an early start tomorrow. I
take the bus. I don’t live on the island. By the time I get home
it’ll be after eleven.” She flipped the strap of her purse across
her shoulder. “Good night, sir.”

He paused for a moment, searching the crowd,
then his attention dropped to her. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

His stare was enough to pin anyone to the
wall and keep them there, and she wasn’t exempt. “Thank you for the
offer, Commander, but I don’t need a ride.”

“Then I’ll walk you out to the bus
stop.”

A bristle began to creep up her neck. “I’m
fine, sir. It’s a short walk.” He wasn’t more than six inches away
from her as they tried to hear each other over the loud music.

“I didn’t think Canadians were so
stubborn.”

His warm breath brushed her cheek, causing
her to choke on her own air. “I’ve worked hard at it,” she snapped
back. “Take care, Commander.” A sour pang churned in her chest. It
always happened when someone tried to show her concern. She
rejected it outright. If she accepted it once, it would feel too
good, and not having it again would feel twice as bad.

The Commander’s hand stopped her when she
tried to shuffle a chair out of her way, and did it for her
instead. “I’m walking you out and making sure you get on that bus,
Ms. Banks, that’s an order.”

Why was he so damn insistent,
correction—pushy. “I’m civilian,” she quipped.

“And you’re working on
my
base.”

She took an uncomfortable step back. They
were too close, and his aftershave settled in her senses with an
unexpected hunger for more. “
Your
base?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you leaving, Kayla?” Mace asked,
appearing beside her. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks,
Mace, but I’m fine. It was nice to meet you.”

The Commander placed warm fingers against
the hollow of her back. “I’ll walk her to the bus stop, Petty
Officer Callahan.”

Mace glanced at both of them and nodded.
“Kayla, I was thinking—”

Lord, he wasn’t going to…? “I’ll be
listening for you. Take care, Mace,” she said, feeling the
Commander gently prod her.

“You definitely will, Kayla,” and then
surprised her when he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

Commander Austen’s gaze churned with
disapproval. “Ms. Banks.” He made a path through the people toward
the back patio. Being as large as he was it was easy for her to
follow. “What are you the Commander of? I thought it was SEAL Team
One,” she asked.

He cocked his head at her. “Not
exactly.”

Stopping, he held his arm out, prompting her
through the door. People mingled on the patio, filling it to
capacity. Torches set on each corner flickered in the warm wind.
She’d love to stay longer and sit out here enjoying the evening. It
wasn’t often she went out any more—she’d left all her gal pals in
Canada. “What, exactly?”

“All of them,” he said with a low timbre
that rattled her nerves.

She’d heard about this man, but only in
generic terms. Someone had told her he and the President talked
behind closed doors. Apparently, he put himself out in the front
line instead of sitting back like most of the men who made the
decisions. Warfare was in his blood and he was famous. They called
him “The Ghost” but she didn’t know why.

A busboy, gripping a tub of dirty dishes,
dodged around them. “Good night, Commander, ma’am.”

Before turning the corner at the end of the
building, she stopped. “Who was that?”

“His father works on the base. Although
there are five thousand permanents and seven thousand transients,
it’s like a small town. The longer you stay, the more people you’ll
get to know.”

She scanned the patio and the lively crowd.
“I suppose so.”

“You’re sure you want to leave?” he asked,
tilting his head as if he could read her desires.

“I’m a little out of practice with
all-nighters.” She pushed the wooden gate open, and turned toward
him. The Commander’s muscular frame brushed against hers, and she
quaked inside. “I’ll be fine, Commander, why don’t you go back
inside?”

“Ms. Banks, there is a serial killer on the
loose, and you fall within his profile.”

“Not exactly,” she argued.

He pinned her with a heart-stopping look.
“Brunette and extraordinarily beautiful. I would say exactly the
profile,” he stated without a single hint of warmth. “After
you.”

The heat of his body radiated into hers as
he wrapped his arm around her, guiding her away from the crowd.
Anxious energy tore through her, and she calmly ignored it, at
least on the outside.