Welcome to Arkansas the big sign read. Jaya O’Sullivan’s queasy stomach did a roll.

At the last possible second before totally passing the exit, she jerked the wheel of her van right and took the ramp off the interstate, heading for the rest stop. A horn blared behind her.

Eat me.

Her tummy did another roll at the thought of food.

It’s just a bug, she told herself, clamping her teeth against the tingling in her jaw.

Five…

The winter flu.

Four…

She barely braked as she flew down the winding road, the welcome center building a one-story type. The setting sun flashed off the glass front doors.

Three…

Several other travelers were parked near the entrance. She wasn’t going to make it that far.

Two…

Skidding to the curb, she took up two spaces, her gaze locked on the grass on the other side of the sidewalk. A guy walking a giant coonhound glanced her way, the dog’s nose came up as well, sniffing in her direction.

One…

Slamming the gearshift into park, she threw open the door, throat burning and eyes watering.

Not bothering to turn off the ignition, or even shut the van’s brightly colored door behind her, she ran across the sidewalk, bent over, and…

Yep. There it was—for the guy, his dog, and all the spectators stretching their legs, hitting the restrooms, and walking out with Vend-O-Land snacks, to see.

Food? Ugh. Jaya vomited again, her hot breath creating cottony puffs of air around her face.

Setting her hands on knees, she breathed in and out several times. Slow. Deliberate. When nothing else came up, she squeezed her eyes closed and fought the low-level panic inside her chest.

Oh crud, what have I done?

“Hey, are you okay?” the guy with the dog called.

Jaya didn’t bother looking up, just waved a mittened hand in the air. Taking a tissue from her coat pocket, she wiped her lips, went back to her still running van, and enclosed herself inside.

People came and went from the rest stop, no one paying any mind to her after that. They all had lives to get to. It was New Year’s after all. New goals, diets, resolutions.

Sweat beaded on her forehead so she adjusted the heat and unbuttoned her coat, shucking her mittens and laying a hand on her belly. A subtle exhaustion wormed its way through her system, making her bones feel utterly incapable of holding up the weight on her shoulders. All she wanted was to be in Jon’s arms again, safe and secure.

And loved, possibly?

They’d never said the word. Jaya wasn’t sure either of them was capable of saying “I love you.” They’d had a lengthy tryst last fall when she’d followed him to DC to make sure he recovered properly from the injuries he’d received while helping her best friend Shelby, and Shelby’s husband Colton, take down a killer.

Things had gotten super hot and pretty damn serious between her and Jon faster than Jaya had expected, but then reality had set in with the holidays. Jaya had a business to run in Good Hope, and her mother to look after in Oklahoma. A former SEAL, Jon lived and breathed his work for Rock Star Security in DC. Once he’d been cleared by his physical therapist, and Jaya had made some fantastic connections in DC to get her Cherry Bomb line of spa products off the ground, it was time to accept the truth: Her life was in Oklahoma. Jon’s was not. Both knew that long-distance relationships were doomed before they started.

They’d parted on good terms, but Jaya had missed him terribly. Good thing she’d had work to keep her mind occupied. Her spa was packed with clients and she only had three months—currently down to nine weeks—before she debuted her CB line on a regional DC TV shopping network called The Beauty Shop. Nine weeks to get two thousand Cherry Bomb body butter, body scrub, and lip balm kits manufactured, packaged, and ready to sell for her first TV promotion.

Then a text had come from Jon the day after Christmas that had made her wonder if their relationship still had a chance:

Got New Year’s off. The whole weekend. Can we meet halfway?

A weekend with Jon—sexy, soft-spoken, Jon Wolfe. Damaged beyond what she could imagine, and yet offering the perfect way to kick off her new year and celebrate what landing a slot on The Beauty Shop could do for her business. She could afford to get her mom into a better place. Expand her product line. Keep her younger brother out of trouble.

But then the weekend had gone down the toilet. They’d just shucked their clothes and Jon’s hands were on her breasts when he’d received a call from his boss, Beatrice. Even though he had the weekend off, he was still on-call.

From what Jaya had picked up on, the Rock Star boys were always on-call.

One of Jon’s coworkers had gotten sick at the last minute with the stomach flu and Beatrice needed Jon to take his place.

An important job playing bodyguard to a famous singer attending a New Year’s fundraiser for the Wounded Warrior Project in New York City. Jon didn’t tell her who the famous singer was—he never shared details—only that the gal was receiving an award for all her dedicated work helping veterans. The ceremony was being broadcast on television and they’d planned to watch it before Jon had gotten called to duty.

On one level, Jaya had been relieved. Her stomach had been all kinds of wonky and champagne held absolutely no appeal. On the other, her perfect kick-off for the New Year had been tainted by her never-ending bad luck.

The O’Sullivan curse.

It’s the flu, she tried again to convince herself. Just like Jon’s coworker.

She sighed. Yeah, right.

The winter sun was fading fast. Jon had told her to stay at the hotel and enjoy the amenities—he’d already paid for an extra day—but spending New Year’s alone had only depressed her. Jaya’s brain couldn’t enjoy the fireworks on TV and she’d tossed and turned all night, missing Jon’s arms around her, his solid presence. That morning, her usual excitement over the parades had been absent.

She ached for his deep, rough voice, his touch setting her body on fire.

Jon was comfortable talking about subjects no other guy ever was, like Jaya’s mixed heritage, growing up on the rez, and the fight she’d had to make people see past her skin color.

Most men loved her exotic mix of Irish and Native American genes, but few cared about the consequences it had brought her. Her Celtic roots, full of grifters and Gypsies, were just as important to her as her Native American upbringing in Oklahoma.

NA rights were near and dear to her heart, but her outspoken political views turned most people off. Add in the facts that her mother had been an herbalist who’d taught Jaya everything she knew, and her dad was a treasure hunter, and well, the world had plenty of ugly labels for her. People wanted her to look pretty and keep her mouth shut.

Jaya sighed. She never kept her mouth shut.

Except right now.

She gripped Kratos’ steering wheel tighter, knuckles going white. She’d named the van after the Greek God of strength and power when she’d bought him. He’d been a broken-down hunk of junk but she had seen past the ugly green color, dents, and scratches. It took her a bit of time, but she’d transformed him into a thing of beauty and he ran like nobody’s business once she’d had a friend fix the engine.

But there were some things she couldn’t fix.

I have to tell Jon. I should turn around, head to DC.

Leaning forward, she rested her head on the steering wheel, logic arguing against the idea. She didn’t even know for sure yet. IUD failure was slim, and it wasn’t like she had experience with pregnancy. Her periods were always wacky, and she rarely kept track since life was always one fire to put out after another. This could be a fluke. No sense in starting the crazy-train rolling until she had definitive proof.

Straightening, a small amount of hope taking root, she shut off the van and bailed. She’d have a pee, grab some crackers from the vending machine, and give herself a moment to think.

As she marched inside the building, she focused on her list of all the things she had to get done for the official launch of Cherry Bomb on The Beauty Shop. There were a hundred little jobs to do and not much time to do them. She had a crack team of two assistants, but they were going to feel the pressure over this as well. If she were smart, she’d hire extra help. Too bad there was no budget for that.

Her inner voice would not leave her alone even while she was peeing, reminding her that if her virus was actually something else, all bets were off. The next step in her career—the one she’d slaved away at for the past seven years—might take a detour.

A baby. Was it possible?

One thing was for certain. She would either be birthing a new company or a baby in the coming months.

Jaya touched her lower belly as she examined the vending machines, looking for something to soothe her irritable stomach. Scanning for crackers, she spotted her favorite candy bar. The one her dad had always brought her when he returned from one of his “adventures.” While she had no appetite for it or the past, seeing it made her miss him and her crazy-ass family all the more.

The unnerving memory of Jon saying he never wanted kids surfaced. The day after Thanksgiving, Black Friday, they’d briefly talked about Christmas and their childhoods. Or rather, she told him some about hers.

He didn’t talk about his, especially his father, but he loved his mother deeply and had mentioned how she ran a dog rescue. Jaya’d immediately recognized a fellow DFS—dysfunctional family survivor. Only she had a feeling Jon’s DF was even worse than the one that had spawned her.

Dragging in a restorative breath, she squared her shoulders, noticing her reflection in the glass. Her face was ashen, circles under her eyes. She needed to rehydrate, plaster on some under-eye cream, and get some sleep.

Oh, and she needed a pregnancy test.

Opting for a bottle of water instead of crackers, she took a sip then waited to make sure it stayed down. When it did, she headed for the exit. Back inside Kratos, she pulled out her Dark Cherry lip balm and under-eye cream, giving herself a bit of TLC as she considered her options.

Good Hope or DC?

The two choices thrummed in her brain like a mantra. Her phone buzzed, a text coming in from her office manager, Lexie, wishing her a Happy New Year and asking when she’d be back. The spa was booked for the holiday, but appointments would drop off mid-month. They’d kick back into high gear around Valentine’s Day.

Nine weeks. Oh, god. How was she going to get everything done?

Jaya typed back a short note telling Lexie she’d be in Good Hope soon and giving her a short list of things to tackle. None of which Lexie didn’t already know and probably had on her calendar, but Jaya needed to triple-check everything so the next nine weeks were as productive as possible and nothing slipped through the cracks. Lexie was a great office manager and a definite Type-A personality, otherwise Jaya would never be able to leave town. It was no surprise when Lexie’s reply told her not to worry, that she had everything under control.

At least one of us does.

Scrolling through her contacts, she stopped at Jon’s name. Should she or shouldn’t she?

How’s the bodyguard gig? Her fingers shook as she typed. Watching the show, but haven’t spotted you yet. She added a smiley face.

It was a lie, and she knew he wouldn’t answer, but she’d needed to reach out. Any kind of response would give her a clue about what she should do.

None came. He was no doubt busy, up to his eyeballs in whatever bodyguards did for the rich and famous. He probably didn’t even have his personal cell phone on him.

Taking another restorative breath, she put Kratos in gear and pulled out of the rest stop.

The Yucatan Peninsula looked like it was stuck in time, holding its breath. Jon felt it in his guts, where he too marked time differently than most people. The warm Caribbean climate and the Mayan ruins added to the sameness—one day like another, generation after generation. The ancient and modern meeting and blending, flowing through time and space as if every person who lived here had been here forever. Every person who visited took a piece with them that anchored them to this spot.

North Carolina did that to him, and while he didn’t plan on ever returning, he knew he could never escape the pull of home. The anchor around his neck would never let him go.

Not my home anymore.

Did he really have one? He’d moved his mom and her dog sanctuary to Virginia, but that was long after he was grown. While he loved the place she’d built, it didn’t feel anymore like home than this spot in South America.

It wasn’t the land or moments in time he’d carried with him from Thief River to the Middle East and back again to D.C. It was the dogs. The dogs he’d cared for growing up at his mother’s animal sanctuary, the ones he’d trained for search and rescue as a SEAL. Deke, who’d tried to help him find Isaiah, his best friend growing up, and ten years later, Geronimo, who’d helped Jon and the FBI track a missing ten-year-old to a cave, where Jon discovered Isaiah’s bones and a crossbow that had turned his world upside down.

No longer a SEAL or a contractor for the FBI, he was still doing search and rescue, this time in a place known for some nearly extinct birds that people paid thousands of dollars to capture on film.

Yucatan birdwatching tours took groups from the white sandy beaches to the tall, humid forests searching for their elusive quarry. From the black-throated bobwhite to the yellow-lored parrot, birders wanted to see and photograph what they considered avian treasures.

Jon didn’t get it, but who was he to say what was and wasn’t worth throwing money at? He’d grown up with a survivalist father who was more likely to snap a bird’s neck and eat it for dinner than take its picture, regardless of the bird’s status on the endangered species list. And don’t even get the old man started on that subject—to Jeremiah Wolfe, the Endangered Species Act was just another government conspiracy to take away property rights and round up citizens into “sustainable cities.”

On a private birding tour to kick off the New Year, Dr. Peter Sutton and his wife, Natalie Hargraves-Sutton, had been kidnapped by three men who belonged to a Yukaton cartel while visiting the north coast. They’d been looking for the Mexican Sheartail and found a heap of trouble instead. Dr. Sutton, a plastic surgeon with his own TV reality show, was worth upwards of a couple billion dollars, and his wife was no slouch in the rich and famous category. Natalie shared the reality TV-star label, having been part of some group of Hollywood teens and their first-world-problems drama.

The couple’s kidnappers had demanded a lot of money from Sutton Enterprises for their safe release, and Shadow Force International had been called in by the SE’s Board of Directors to save the day.

Muffled music cut through the insect and bird noise. He and Colton Bells lay flat on a hilltop, overlooking a squat hut with smoke curling out of the chimney.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, realizing the music was from his new phone that had once again backfired. Even though he’d put the ringer on silent, the cell was ringing loud and clear.

“What the fuck?” Bells said, his face greased to match his camo gear. “Is that your phone?”

Next to Jon, the newest member of the SFI team, Nyx, whined softly, her big, liquid brown eyes looking to Jon for a command. Or maybe, like Bells, she was wondering why Jon’s phone was going off in the middle of a crucial mission.

The Pit Bull/Labrador mix was as smart as Jon, even though she looked as goofy as Bells with one ear permanently standing straight up and the other lying down. Her offset jaw gave the impression she was always smirking.

Below, the two kidnappers inside the hut had no idea they were being watched. The third had left fifteen minutes ago on a beer run.

At least Jon hoped the assholes inside still didn’t realize that his group of paramilitary commandoes—all former SEALs like himself—were about to unload the wrath of God on them.

With as few movements as possible, he scooted backward on his belly, reaching for the phone buried in the pocket of his fatigues. He knew the ringtone since the woman calling had picked it out herself. The singer, Cher, had a unique voice and was belting out, “Gyp-sies, tramps, and thieves…”

“Fucking piece of shit,” he murmured, finally getting the thing to silence. “Rory has got to fix this.”

Nyx wagged her tail, sniffing at the phone. How could a dog recognize a blip of a song and know who it was related to?

Jaya knew nothing about the dog or Jon’s search and rescue background—another secret he’d kept from her. But Nyx recognized the ringtone since, during the holidays when Jon was working on Nyx’s training, Jaya would text him. Nyx had picked up on the happiness Jon felt every time he heard Jaya’s voice. It pulled him out of the numbing depression he battled every day.

“What was that?” Trace Hunter’s voice came through Jon’s earbud. The man was stationed down the hill surveilling the rear of the hut. “Did I just hear music?”

“My new phone is malfunctioning,” Jon murmured to the super soldier. Hunter had undergone “enhancements” while in Project 24, a secret, unsanctioned experiment that had improved his hearing as well as pretty much everything else about him. Project 24 was no longer around, but Hunter was every inch Captain America, only he didn’t need the shield. “Hold position.”

This was Jon’s mission. Beatrice had specifically requested him because of his experience in tracking people. The kidnappers had grown up in these parts and knew the terrain like the back of their hands, but that made them sloppy. Jon and Nyx had picked up their trail less than forty-five minutes earlier and followed it here without problem. Cartel members weren’t known for their smarts or stealth.

Checking the text from Jaya, he clenched his teeth to keep a smile from tickling the corner of his mouth.

How’s the bodyguard gig?

He hated lying to her, but that was his life—a never-ending lie. The missions he did for Shadow Force were top-secret. Even the bodyguard gigs for Rock Star, the cover company for SFI, were confidential and often covert. The security arm specialized in top-notch protection detail for very elite clientele. SFI did the same, but missions involved everything from stopping terrorist attacks to bringing Americans home from situations like this one.

Watching the show, Jaya’s text continued, but haven’t spotted you yet.

She’d followed that with a smiley emoticon.

That was Jaya—always upbeat and happy, wanting him to be too.

Hard as shit when he suffered from PTSD and a few other issues that had worn him to the bone. One of the reasons it was entirely impossible to allow himself to get involved with anyone. He was a basket case from the word go when he wasn’t in the field. He needed his work with SFI or the depression would kill him.

And he couldn’t share this work with Jaya or anyone else. Not even his mom.

His fingers had a mind of their own, though, and he thumbed a text back.

I’m a shadow in the wind. You’ll never spot me.

And God help him, he returned the smiley face.

Jaya made him that way—a little buoyant, a touch lighthearted. Two things he’d never experienced in his entire life except with her. She was the one thing in his world, besides his job, that kept the depression and bleakness from swamping him.

The depression had reared its ugly head big time after he’d been shot in Good Hope last fall, but Jaya had kept him from falling into the blue funk completely, refusing to leave him alone for nearly a month. She’d literally been the angel on his shoulder that made him wake up every morning with a smile on his face rather than wanting to blow his head off.

“Please tell me that’s not The Wicked Witch of Good Hope,” Bells sneered from under his floppy hat. The sniper held a mean looking precision-guided smart rifle with a scope, all of which was skillfully camouflaged. The rifle was like a computer—full color display and a sophisticated monitoring system with constant readouts of wind speed, direction, target distance, gravity, and even the rotation of the earth. All that data, plus video of everything Bells saw through the scope, was currently pinging off a satellite and showing up on Beatrice and Rory’s tablets back in DC, where they could watch and give advice. So far, both had been quiet, a testament to their trust and belief in Jon and his abilities.

Bells had married Jaya’s best friend, Shelby, not once, but twice. The man claimed to have little use for Jaya and her over-the-top approach to life, but Jon knew underneath all the sniping that the two actually liked each other.

Jon wanted to wait to see if Jaya replied even though he needed to shut off the phone. He was head of this mission and here he was, acting like a teenager with a crush, holding his breath to see if she responded with another smiley face.

So screwed. “She thinks I’m in New York City at that fundraiser playing bodyguard.” He powered down the phone and shoved it back in his pocket. In his mind, he saw her smiling, beckoning at him from his bed, her long, tan legs spread wide, arms waiting to hold him. “I hate lying to her all the time.”

“Comes with the job,” Bells said, no stranger to the art of secrecy, and then he frowned. “Wait. You and her… You’re not serious, are you?” He shook with an exaggerated shudder.

Hell, yes, I’m serious. If he’d been smart, he would have never let her go back to Good Hope before Christmas, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have left her on New Year’s Eve. Thing was, Jaya had a successful spa to run and plans for a big future selling her skincare line across the US. If her amazing skin was any testament to her products, she’d easily take over the world before she hit thirty. “She makes me feel like…”

“Like what?” Colton grunted.

“You know that feeling when you’re on a HALO and you’re free-falling, right before you’ve got to pull your ’chute? That thrill of flying and falling, and not knowing one hundred percent for sure it will open?” His pulse surged just thinking about it. “That’s the feeling I get every time I see her.”

Colton’s strained silence said it all—he thought Jon was nuts.

“Doesn’t matter.” Jon gritted his teeth. “Me and relationships…you know.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Bells got it. Colton and Shelby had worked things out, but she was FBI to her bones and understood the code of warriors and soldiers. She couldn’t discuss her cases with Colton, and accepted he couldn’t and wouldn’t talk about his missions with her.

“Relationships are challenging, but not impossible,” Hunter chimed in.

Jon resumed his spot near Bells and Nyx, watching the hut through his night-vision binoculars. “Says the guy getting married in a few days. Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Macrame,” Hunter answered without missing a beat and with total sincerity. “My grandmother tried to teach me when I was a kid, but my plant hangers always turned into balls of yarn that looked like alien spaceships.”

Jon canted a glance at Colton. Bells just shook his head.

I’m thirty years old and the only woman I’ve ever felt this way about is out of reach. Jaya deserved someone solid, respectable, and supportive. Not someone who hid in the shadows and could never tell her about his job, his life. A man who fought depression on a regular basis and was covered with scars inside and out. She needed someone by her side she could be proud of, who could walk into any party with her and not receive looks of fear or disgust. Not only did Jon have issues, as soon as anyone found out who his dad was, it was game over.

“I’ve got movement.” Hunter’s voice, now serious, dropped a notch. “One tango emerging from back door, lighting a cigarette.”

In his mind, Jon saw Hunter tightening his hold on his smart rifle, body tensing ever so slightly, ready to go. Next to Jon, the air around Bells changed too, kicking up a degree.

It was time to shift this mission into high gear. “I’ll entice the second one to come out front,” Jon said. He looked at Bells. “As soon as Tango Two emerges, you’re on.”

“Copy that,” both Hunter and Bells said at the same time. Hunter would take out the backdoor kidnapper, Bells the front.

It was time for Jon to leave his hiding spot. Producing a set of firecrackers from his vest, he headed for the bottom of the hill to start the distraction party. They would make just enough unusual noise to bring the second kidnapper out to see what was going on.

By his calculations, they’d have this wrapped up and be back in the States by 0400 hours. Beatrice would expect his full report once he’d had a shower. He prayed she’d have another job to keep his mind off the fact he had no chance with Jaya. No chance at true happiness. His long, lonely life stretched out in front of him. Numbness, no hope…

Pushing the depressing thoughts aside, he gave Nyx the command to stay with Bells, then snuck down the hill to take his place at the bottom of the hill.

He gave Hunter and Bells the signal, then set off the fireworks.