Free Striking Distance by Pamela Clare

wrist. “You really are crazy. I
never
disclosed my travel plans, not even to my own mother. I certainly never talked about them in the bar. As for guys, I wasn’t seeing anyone.”
    Derek was an expert at reading people. It had been part of his training, part of what had kept him alive behind enemy lines for so long. Her shock seemed genuine, nothing on her face to suggest she was lying. Then again, she might not remember.
    He deliberately softened the tone of his voice. “I know some of your memories are vague, but you need—”
    The shrieking of a car alarm interrupted him.
    Her car alarm.
    She watched him, a look of dark triumph on her face, the panic button on her keychain gripped in bloodless fingers. “Get out!”
    He should have taken the damn keys from her. “You’re a journalist, Ms. Nilsson. Don’t you care about the truth?”
    Out of time, he unlocked the door and opened it. “And, hey, not such a great idea to unlock your car till you’re near the door. Those flashing hazard lights give you away, tell an assailant right where you’re headed. If I’d been one of Al-Nassar’s followers come to kill you, I’d have slit your throat before you even knew I was here.”
    Ignoring the horror on her face, he climbed out of the car, shut the door behind him, and did his best to disappear.

CHAPTER
    4
    JAVIER SHOOK ZACH McBride’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you. It’s not every day a man gets to drink beer with a Medal of Honor recipient.”
    Javier had read about McBride’s heroism and the catastrophic mission that had claimed the lives of McBride’s men and had left him gravely wounded. Every SEAL had.
    Tall with short, dark hair and a strong handshake, McBride met Javier’s gaze through sharp gray eyes. “The honor is mutual. West told me how you were there for him, how you pulled him out of the burning debris, stayed with him.”
    And Javier knew that McBride and Nate were close. That wasn’t a story Nate shared with everyone.
    Javier grinned. “He talks too damned much.”
    McBride chuckled. “How long have you been with the Teams?”
    “Fourteen years.”
    “Going for twenty?”
    “That’s the plan.”
    For a while the two of them traded stories—instructors they’d both had in BUD/S, the joys of eating sand with their MREs in Iraq, the scorching heat and freezing cold of Afghanistan. It was always like this when Javier met another SEAL. Each and every one of them was like a brother, the bond between them forged from the unique challenges, risks, and deprivations that came with wearing the Trident.
    And for a moment Javier forgot about Laura.
    Women’s laughter drew McBride’s gaze. He gestured with a nod of his head toward a pretty dark-haired woman who was sitting next to Megan, the two of them reading something. “That’s my wife, Natalie. She’s decided she wants to write fiction—romance novels. I hope that means I get to help with the research.”
    Two heads came up, and Natalie glared at McBride. “The books are
not
just about sex.”
    Javier lowered his voice. “I guess you said the wrong thing, man.”
    The doorbell rang again, and Megan rose to answer it.
    Javier’s pulse skipped.
    You’re excited to see her,
chacho
. Admit it.
    Sure, he was. Not a day had gone by since Dubai when he hadn’t thought of her. Yeah, he was excited to see her again. And more than a little tense.
    When Megan returned, it wasn’t Laura walking beside her. Instead, Javier was introduced to Julian Darcangelo, a tall son of a gun with a dark ponytail who’d once worked with the FBI but was now head of Denver’s vice unit. He’d brought his family—his wife, Tessa, a sweet thing with long, curly blond hair and a mother’s soft curves, and a little girl and a baby boy.
    The doorbell rang again.
    This time it was Reece Sheridan, the state’s newly sworn-in lieutenant governor, his wife Kara McMillan, and their three school-aged kids. They were followed not two minutes later by Kat