Hunter crossed his arms as he leaned against a desk in the bullpen on base, watching news footage on a massive TV screen in front of them. Mason and Noah stood to his left, Noah ribbing Mason about the women he’d left with earlier.

“Hey, she told me to give her a call when I was back,” Mason laughed. “Who am I to ignore a woman’s wishes?”

“Yeah, the minute your plane lands?” Noah said. “Have some dignity.”

Mason shrugged, grinning. “I needed a ride and a quick lay. Nothing wrong with that.”

Hunter muttered a curse as he strode across the room, taking a long pull from his water bottle. His CO was busy talking with two other members of his SEAL team, and he was ready to wrap this entire day up.

Only problem was, what was he supposed to do with Emma when he got home?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, frowning at the message from Patrick on the screen.

Emma’s gone.

Gone? How they hell could she be gone? They’d just gotten here for fuck’s sake. As far as he knew, she was soaking her married self in his bathtub back home.

That’s what he got for caring about a woman for a change.

Had he slept with a married woman before? Who the hell knew? That wouldn’t have been his choice, but usually after a round between the sheets he was on his merry way.

He turned slightly away from the others and gave Patrick a call.

“What do you mean Emma’s gone?”

“Rebecca was just over there. She brought some clothes and things for Emma. I guess she accidentally left her cell phone inside, so she turned around and drove back. Emma was getting into a cab—apparently she was telling Rebecca that coming here with you was a mistake.”

“Damn right it was a mistake. Did she tell Rebecca she’s married?” he asked, his voice rising.

Mason and Noah looked over at him, Mason’s eyebrows raised. Hunter shook his head and walked out of the bullpen.

“She’s not married,” Patrick said. “She has a fake wedding band for when she travels—so assholes don’t hit on her. I can’t blame her with some of the places she goes. It’s not safe for a single woman to be there alone. And otherwise? Some men are assholes.”

“Damn it,” Hunter muttered. “Well what does she mean that coming here was a mistake? I never even talked to her about it, I just left.”

Patrick chuckled. “That was the mistake. She heard you slam the door and leave, and when she saw her backpack had been knocked over and the ring on the ground, she put two and two together.”

“I’ll go find her,” Hunter said. “I’ll call the cab company or something,” he grumbled.  “I mean—God damn it.”

He poked his head back into the bullpen. “There’s an emergency with Emma,” he said. “I have to go.”

His CO nodded, and then Hunter was turning. Walking out the door.

He was just worried about her safety, he reasoned. She was alone in a foreign country. And then there was the whole terrorists after her bit. Perhaps they didn’t know she was here in the States, but hell. He was worried because he needed to protect her, not because of the tightening her felt in his chest.

He grumbled, jogging out to the parking lot. Hopping into his vehicle.

He pounded his fist on the steering wheel in frustration.

***

Emma peered around the cab driver, watching the traffic ahead on the bridge. Cars creeped along, barely moving at all, and then when the cab she was riding in was finally over the glistening blue water, traffic came to an abrupt standstill.

She sighed in frustration as she saw a lone sailboat out on the water. The cars dotting the bridge stretched on as far as the eye could see—an endless stream of red brake lights.

Unfortunately for her, the closest decent-sized airport was all the way in Richmond—several hours away. A cab ride there was going to cost her a small fortune, but what was she supposed to do? Hunter’s military connections had allowed them to fly in near Little Creek on a military jet from an air force base outside Washington, DC, but as for her?

She was on her own.

She’d swiped her credit card and purchased a ticket for a flight back. No sense in staying here with a man like that—someone so irritational he’d storm out without a civilized discussion.

Bloody hell.

“This is worse than traffic in London,” she said. “There, in the most congested area at the city’s center, cars aren’t even allowed. It’s buses and cabs only.”

The cab driver eyed her in the rearview mirror. “Traffic’s always bad on the bridge during nice weather. Everyone wants to head to the beach. People are always coming and going.”

The beach. She’d never even made it there. Who came to Virginia Beach and didn’t even see the ocean?

They were at standstill over some large river, but it wasn’t the same as watching the waves crash on the shore. Too bad she hadn’t decided to turn this into a holiday of sorts—check into a hotel and pretend she’d never met an irritable, irrational man like Hunter.

Although she could understand his anger at finding her decoy wedding band, the fact that he’d simply walked out, slamming the door behind him? That he hadn’t asked her about it or confronted her or bloody well done whatever a decent man would have?

She shuddered.

“You okay?” the cabbie asked.

“Yes, brilliant,” she said, sinking back in her seat.

Good heavens, and she was still wearing Rebecca’s clothing. She’d have to send her a check or something when she was back in England. Not that she knew her address or even her last name.

Emma blew out a blew of exasperation.

The sun beaming in through the cab’s window was hot and uncomfortable, and she closed her eyes, wishing she were stuck somewhere else.

The revving of a motorcycle engine startled her, and suddenly she saw two motorcycles pulling along beside them, one on each side of the vehicle. They’d woven through the traffic on the bridge and didn’t remove their helmets as they stopped alongside her.

Her heart nearly stopped as she saw they were carrying weapons.

One pounded on the driver’s sound window, shouting, while the second pulled at the back door where she was sitting.

“Go! Go!” she screamed to the driver.

“Lady, I can’t go anywhere!”

The glass suddenly was smashed beside her, and she screamed as pieces of it rained down around her. A gloved hand reached in, unlocking the door, and then she was yanked from the vehicle as the cab driver yelled. Pulled out his cell phone and yelled that he needed help.

Emma stumbled as rough hands yanked her toward the motorcycle, and a mask was tossed over her head. In the next moment, a man bodily pulled her across his lap as he revved the engine, crushing her ribs as he pinned her to him.

She screamed as he revved the engine and began to drive, weaving in and out of the cars around them. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gasped beneath the hood they’d thrown over her, and her stomach churned as they wove back and forth with her unable to see a thing. She could smell the acrid scent of old sweat and what had to have been urine.

As she cried out again, trying to gain enough balance to push herself away, something heavy thumped the top of her head.

Everything faded to blackness.

***

Hunter muttered under his breath as he headed toward the bridge leading away from the Virginia Beach area. Of course Emma hadn’t decided to take a nice holiday and check into a hotel on the beach—she’d booked a damn flight back to England.

He sped up, racing toward the bridge as he hung up with the cab company, cursing as he saw the multiple police cars racing by.

What in the hell had happened?

A couple of years ago there’d been a horrific accident on that very bridge. A car crash had killed a man who’d gone over the edge in the collision, and as it turned out, the man who’d died had been Rebecca’s husband. She’d been widowed after the accident, and according to Patrick, was still nervous being over water now.

He didn’t like the sight of the police and ambulances driving by, and his gut clenched as he pulled over to a police cruiser parked alongside the road.

“You won’t get through for hours,” the policeman said, his gaze flicking over Hunter’s uniform. “There’s been an emergency on the bridge. No way on or off right now.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“Kidnapping,” he said. “A woman was grabbed from a vehicle—seems she’d been targeted.”

Hunter took a sharp breath as his gaze swept back toward the bridge up ahead. As he eyed the cars lined up, sunlight gleaming off the metal, and the boats bobbing up and down in the water below.

“Was she British?”

“I believe so. Why, do you know her?”

Hunter’s heart pounded as he tried to think of the fastest way to get across the water. Call his CO? Run? Rustle up some favors and get someone to fly in with a damn helicopter?

“Fortunately, some state troopers were on the bridge and stopped them,” the police officer said. “Pretty stupid to try a move like that in this kind of traffic over a goddamn bridge. What’d they think they were going to do to get away? Jump?”

Hunter blew out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“My girlfriend,” Hunter explained. “We had a fight earlier, and she called a cab and took off for the airport in Richmond. She was, uh, involved in an incident back in London. There were men after her—I brought her here and—damn it! I should’ve been with her.”

“What’s her name?”

“Emma,” he said. “Her name is Emma.”

“It seems that she was shaken up but otherwise unharmed. There are police and medics tending to her now. You won’t be able to get there unless you walk.”

“Walk? I’ll run the whole damn way.”

Hunter pulled his car in front of the police officer, and then climbed out of his vehicle, anger roaring through him. He ignored the cars lining up beside him as traffic backed up even further and took off running.

A few heads turned to gawk at him from inside of their vehicles, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to Emma.

He was halfway across before he finally spotted her.

She was sitting in the back of an ambulance, sobbing, as a medic took her blood pressure. A police officer was standing beside her with an open notepad, and four other officers had two men on the ground in handcuffs. He was tempted to go kick their asses himself, but right now all that mattered was her.

“Hunter,” she gasped, watching in disbelief as he hurried over to her. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” he asked, crouching down in front of her. Feeling his gut clench at the tears running down her cheeks. “I came after you! Patrick told me you left, and I came to stop you from going to the airport. But holy hell—I never should’ve left you alone.”

“I used a credit card to buy a ticket—I know that was stupid since they’d been tracking me, but I figured I was safe here.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching up to cup her face.

“I don’t know—I just…you were mad and just left before,” she said, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “You didn’t even try to talk to me—you just walked right out.”

“I was angry, yes, and that was stupid on my part. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I found something when your backpack spilled over—”

“The ring, I know. I saw it on the ground and realized what had happened. But you should have just come talked to me.”

Hunter muttered a curse. “I hate that I wasn’t there for you—that you ran away and those assholes tried to kidnap you again.”

“But why are you here now?”

He took her hand, hating the way that it trembled. “Why am I here? Because I care about you. I came after you to stop you from flying back. And when the police just told me what happened? I left my car on the other side of the bridge and ran to get to you.”

She burst into tears again, and Hunter pulled her into his arms. Held her tightly. Felt her entire body melt into his as he held her—exactly where she belonged.

“Come home with me,” he murmured. “I made a mistake, but you flew across a damn ocean to stay with me. Let’s not let one misunderstanding get in the way of that.”

“Okay,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. “Take me home.”