Anything, Anywhere, Anytime

Why had he never thought to look in hers? Deep brown pools of an intriguing woman who challenged his world with her smile. Wise eyes that saw beyond his years to the man inside. Fearful eyes that believed he had turned his back on her.



Finally he saw her. The part of her that was timeless and not just a number of years. And now odds screamed she wouldn't see even another day alive.



Ammar raised his hands higher to showcase the grenades like perverted altar offerings. "So, Colonel, I see you understand my resolve. Now tell me, are you willing to let your woman die just so you can kill me?"



No, he wasn't. But this maniacal as**ole failed to realize that Drew was more than ready to shield her body with his own and die in her place.



Oh, God. Monica sucked in sand-laden breaths that scratched all the way down her throat. She couldn't be on the verge of seeing her sister die.



Gritty gasps scoured her chest as she stood with Jack and the Colonel, all mentally scrambling for a way to save Yasmine.



Her sister. Another piece of the puzzle slid into a clean fit. Why had she waited so long to reach out? And now if they didn't stop Ammar from releasing the safety levers on those grenades, Yasmine would have five seconds left to live.



Pride radiated from her proud sister, along with a sure certainty that she would die. That no one would save her. And why shouldn't Yasmine feel that way? Had anyone helped her during the past year? Had she or even Sydney ever thought to check on Yasmine after their mother's death?



Resolve burned through Monica. This was her sister. Not a Hyatt, but her blood all the same.



And nobody messed with her sisters.



Options lined up in her mind, one by one discarded until she settled on the only plan with a chance of succeeding. The Colonel would tackle Yasmine, shield her, while Monica and Jack flew wingman at his sides to pitch the grenades.



In five seconds.



She looked left toward Jack, could sense his determination and understanding, as well. Like he'd told her earlier about Sydney, her family was his now. And along with that understanding, she saw his acceptance. He knew that she would do whatever it took to be there for this sister just as she'd fought to be here for Sydney.



Yes, she saw the acceptance. And, oh, my, she saw his love for her along with his fears. All there. Full-blown and just as real as any intense avowal. Steady, laid-back Jack who took life in stride with cocky declarations of how much he loved Elvis tunes, a good cheeseburger and his grandma actually carried around the same pain and baggage as the rest of the world.



And if she died, how much more would she add to his load?



Not an option, just as she refused to accept anything could happen to him, either. Not now when they finally had a chance. She had a few more pieces of the puzzle and looked forward to finding the rest. With Jack.



She held still, awaiting the silent order from their commander to—



The Colonel charged. Toward Yasmine. Monica sprung forward. She didn't need to look to know Jack was keeping step on the other side. The Colonel body-slammed into Yasmine.



Five. Four.



Monica landed on Ammar's left arm, Jack on the right. Scrambling for the rolling grenades.



Three.



Monica lobbed back her hand. Launched the grenade airborne.



Two. One...



Explosions rocked the ground beneath her. Sand, rocks, shards blanketed the air. Rained down. Tink. Tink. Tink.



Her ears rang in the aftermath. A good sign, right? At least she was still alive. She opened her eyes.



"Jack!" she shouted, demanded. She rolled off Ammar's arm, to her knees.



"Uh-uh." Jack grunted, flipping to his side. Blood seeped from his thigh through his flight suit. But he was conscious. Whole. Relief, love and residual fear for her all scrolled across his eyes, his hands already reaching out to her.



Only then did she let herself check the others. Yasmine stirred, the Colonel already levering off her.



Ammar's eyes stared up unblinking between them. His head cocked at an angle. Neck broken. In the fall or by the Colonel?



One look in Colonel Cullen's cool eyes gave her the answer.



The Colonel began untying Yasmine from the dead man's waist with steady hands, but a tight jaw and possessive stance that broadcast well no one was getting near Yasmine anytime soon.



Apparently this sister didn't really need her, either. But that was okay. Because she knew someone who did need her... every bit as much as she needed him. Monica crawled across the jagged desert ground. She threw her arms around Jack's neck and damned well wasn't going to let go.



Almost time to go. Yasmine stood outside the overlarge cargo plane soon to be leaving for Germany before continuing on to the United States. Her new home.



No less than six military soldiers stood guard around her, so ordered by Drew. She would have preferred the company of one soldier in particular, but he stood in the circle of his officers issuing commands.



She understood the nature of his job kept him from having time to speak with her. Safety came first. Still, she wished for a chance to see him before she left. To thank him. To tell him to hell with her pride, she loved him and oh, how she hoped that her eyes were not deceiving her about what she thought she'd seen in his.



Her love returned tenfold.



And then there he was, marching toward her through the parting crowd. Her breath hitched somewhere between her chest and her throat. Late-day sun glinted off his helmet, fell to caress broad shoulders she'd once glided her hands across. Each steady footfall of his combat boots vibrated through the cracked cement and into her quivering belly.



He stopped in front of her without speaking, but he was there. He had come to her and for her gruff Spartan man, she read that for exactly what it was. A definite sign in her favor.



"Are you still angry with me, Colonel?"



Drew hitched his rifle on his shoulder, his gaze riding over her scarf before settling to stare straight into her eyes. ''Almost getting yourself blown up may have put things into perspective for me."



A sentiment she shared. Never, even if she became that ninety-year-old woman with only three days left to live, would she forget the blazing fear when Drew ran toward her and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him from giving his life for hers. Certainly this big and honorable man would do the same for anyone, which made her love him all the more.



She dared inch closer without touching. "Do you think you could hold on to that perspective even if I stay out of trouble?"



He shadowed her with his looming size that moved so gently against her while making love. He did not answer, merely stared back at her with those beautiful blue eyes in his poster-handsome face. New creases marked his features, ones she sensed she had placed there when she wished only to bring him laugh lines. Smiles. Somewhere soft to escape from his hard world.



Slowly, a smile crinkled his eyes. Only a half a smile if it had been on anyone else's face, but she searched blue and saw the joy. Even a bit of mischief twinkled at odds with the rugged exterior. "How about we discuss it over dinner? I know this great place."



Hope bloomed like a flower that found water hidden in the cracked desert. "That wonderful restaurant you enjoy near D.C.?"



"Actually—" He tucked her daisy scarf more securely over her shoulder, his knuckles skimming along the sensitive skin of her neck. "I was thinking about this place I know near post. If you're ever in the mood for a trip to Columbus, Georgia."



Relief trickled down her spine along with a shiver of awareness from his subtle touch to her neck, a touch that promised more to come. She relaxed into the flirty smile she knew drove him crazy. "Hmm. I have never been to Columbus, Georgia. Is it near Atlanta? Because I sense a serious need for clothes in my future and I hear Atlanta is a shopping mecca."



"It's close enough." His hand slid up to graze her cheek.



"Excellent." She teased her scarf into place, not missing for a second the way his gaze followed her moves with hungry intent. And for the first time she let all her vulnerabilities show because this man was far more important than her pride. "Perhaps we could do this to celebrate your return? You will let me know when that is?"



"I'll call you from my layover in Germany."



I'll call you. Simple words, but an unshakable vow from a man who honored his promises even to a country full of people he'd never met.



She arched up on her toes, skimmed his mouth with hers. Briefly, but he would understand the wealth of commitment from her to express herself so blatantly in public. His hand splayed against her back, a welcome, bracing security for her shaky knees.



Yasmine eased her lips away, pressed her cheek to the wonderful abrasion of his beard-stubbled face and whispered in his ear, "You are going to marry me one day, Drew Cullen. You know that, don't you?"



His hand pressed deeper, firmer into her back. "Yeah, Sheba. I know."



Wind twined around them mingling the familiar scents of her homeland with the now-familiar scent of her future. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. She wanted Drew to hold a smiling image of her until they saw each other again.



She stepped back and found the tears tougher to combat than she had expected. "I will be waiting for you when you land."



"I'll be looking for you." Vibrant blue heated to total molten gray just before he winked. "And wear the rose-colored scarf. It's my favorite."



Her tears and smile were two parts of the same happiness. Yasmine backed toward her sisters for their return to America even though her journey was already complete. Because in this man's arms and honor, she had found the real meaning of freedom.



Jack watched the sun settle slowly into the sand and rocks of the Rubistanian horizon. Only ten more minutes until time to load up and leave, but he couldn't tear his eyes off the beauty in front of him.



His wife.



Fifty yards away, Monica stood with her back to him, a sister on either side as the three women linked arms and watched the sun sink. He didn't have to dig too deep to know they were saying their farewells to their mother.



The day unrolled in his mind. He could have lost Monica, a fact that still shook the ground under his feet. But that blast had also knocked some sense into him.



He loved her. Now and always. No holding back and wasting a minute more without her.



Two shadows slid past to bracket his. Colonel Cullen on one side, Blake Gardner on the other. Silently they stood together and waited for the women to finish finding what peace they could in the sunset. The last rays of the day melted mellow beams over Yasmine's modest black dress, Sydney's drab hostage-issue jumper, Monica's flight suit.



Without moving his eyes from his warrior wife, Jack asked the question that had niggled at him for the past few hours. "Colonel, how did you know Monica and I would take care of the grenades?"



"I didn't," the Colonel answered without missing a beat.



Jack nodded. Understood. Would have played the scenario out the same way had he been in the commander's shoes.



Together they stood and watched the women. Their women.



Cro-Magnon to be so possessive? Sure. But since it was just three guys hanging out, there wasn't any need to pretty up the emotions.



The Colonel reached under his Kevlar helmet, scratched his head. "Looks like we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other come family reunion time."



"Damn," Blake folded another piece of gum into his mouth, "just what every enlisted guy wants, senior officers sitting down with him for Thanksgiving dinner. A lifetime of 'please pass the mashed potatoes, sir.'"



"Mashed potatoes?" The Colonel shook his head. "Korba, is that what you were eating for the holidays last year? 'Cause it sure wasn't what I was served. Hell, last Thanksgiving I was chowing down on MREs in the desert while SEAL boys' exploits hogged the glory in the news and you were eating turkey leftovers."



Ah, the familiarity of service rivalry. Ooh-rah. Future Thanksgivings would be a blast. "You guys are just jealous because my idea of roughing it is no HBO when I'm TDY."



"Chair Force," Blake muttered on a cough.



"Hey," Jack groused, "last time I checked, I was the one who got shot in the ass on this mission."



Laughs rumbled low, back and forth. Yeah, Thanksgivings were going to rock, especially with the three women to rile up the mix. Regardless of whatever other flaws Cheryl Lynn Hyatt Halibiz may have had, she'd given birth to three daughters who sure knew how to kick ass in their own ways.



Willowy Sydney with an unbreakable spirit.



Petite Yasmine who could spit fire with the best of them.



And his warrior Monica with a tender heart and unstoppable drive to heal the world.



Ah, hell. Jack punted a rock with his boot. This was a little more in touch with emotions than he wanted to be. He cleared his throat, shifted his weight to his uninjured leg and turned to his two future brother-in-laws. "Wanna go shoot guns or something?"



"Hoo-ya."



"Hoo-uh."



"Ooh-rah."



The radio in the Colonel's hand squawked, yanking them back to the present and their jobs.



Jack pivoted to face the older officer, snapped to attention, popped a sharp salute and held. "An honor working with you, sir. Cover your ass till things are wrapped up and I'll see you back in the States."



"That you will, Major. That you will." He returned the salute, then to the SEAL, as well, before lifting his LMR to his mouth and answering the radio call.



Gardner strode ahead to Sydney. Once Yasmine was safely escorted with Gardner, as well, the Colonel turned his attention to the call at hand. Not that he left the sight line of the runway, something that Jack suspected wouldn't change until they were safely in the air.



Jack ambled over to Monica, and damned if she didn't meet him halfway. "You about ready to head out, Mon?"



"Whenever you are. Guess we'll be sitting together after all."



"Well, that's one way for a married couple to get to ride in the same plane together. Have the other plane shot out from underneath you."



Monica shuddered, that vulnerable soul of hers more visible now that he knew to look for the signs. He slung an arm around her shoulders, brought her close to his side, her heart slugging a double pace under his draped hand.



He kissed her temple. Let her lean on him. Discovered the surprise pleasure of leaning on her, as well. "When do you want to tell everyone about being married?"



"How about we tell our families first? Then we can cut the news loose in the squadron."



"I'm guessing that piece of gossip will likely take the heat off you on the Tiara jokes for a while."



Her light chuckle teased over him. He let himself join in. Laughing together, just being together, was a gift he didn't intend to take for granted again.