Some nameless emotion swirled in the depths of her blue-gray orbs. “Hey, what’s this about?” he asked as he ran the back of a finger down her cheek.
She veiled her eyes, and his heart stuttered. She was worried. Damn. He hated that. “I would move heaven and earth to get back to you, Ella. Stop it,” he murmured at her lips.
“You can’t control everything,” she whispered.
“This is me…who I am. Hell, it’s you. We knew what this was when we signed up for it.” The reminder had her stiffening.
She pulled away from him and got off the bed, pulling the top sheet with her and wrapping it around her slight frame. She made her way to the sliding glass door and stepped onto the deck.
He’d bought this tiny house on the beach the day after he’d first made love to Ella. Two hours away from Endgame Ops’ base of operations in Port Royal, Virginia, Jude had wanted a house they could escape to. They both loved the ocean, so he’d bought this.
She stared out over the waves kissing the lips of the beach not even a hundred yards from them. He stepped behind her and enfolded her in his arms. He couldn’t be this close to her and not have her against him. It was even becoming difficult when they pulled missions together. They always maintained professionalism—but yeah, it was getting hard to avoid the small touches that eased him.
King had mentioned his concerns in a meeting a week ago. Jude had reassured his leader that he was a soldier—cast in the mold—and Ella was an absolute professional. King reminded him they were also human and therefore subject to all the frailties inherent to that condition.
Jude wondered now if that was why Ella was pulling logistical support at base while Jude ventured to Beirut with the team.
“He pulled me off the ground op for this one,” Ella said softly.
She’d read his mind. Jude sighed and settled his chin on top of her head. She relaxed back into him, and the band around his chest eased somewhat. “Nah, he just knows you’re a whiz with tech logistics and this mission’s FUBAR potential, while not high, is still there. We’ll need your expertise if sugar goes to shit.”
“Great sentiment, Jude, and yeah, I know where my skill set is the strongest, but I need to be there at your back,” she said.
A chill skated through Jude at the urgency in her tone.
“It’s simple: go in, blow shit sky-high, and we’re out. I’ll be fine. Hell, we’ll all be fine. Plus, I have you to come home to,” he said and pressed his lips to the soft flesh of her neck. “I’ll have you in my ear the whole time. And then I’ll have you in my arms when I come home.”
“Yeah,” she said as she turned and rested her head on his heart. “You will.”
He held her for a few more minutes, soaking in the setting sun throwing golden sparks over the writhing blue of the Atlantic. When darkness finally began to creep in, he guided Ella back inside, removed the sheet, and kissed her from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head. He made her back arch and her breath break, and then he started all over.
And when it was time to leave the next morning, he nuzzled her cheek, kissed her lips, breathed her in, and left.
* * *
Six hours later
“Hey, Keeper, I heard your mama’s in town,” Micah Samson called across the room.
Jude let his smile show his teeth. “We ain’t talking about my mama, dude.” Micah was as good as they came—solid, straight shooter, and strong. He was probably the best friend Jude had, but he loved to jack with Jude about his mama.
Micah laughed. It was a strange sound coming from the big man. Strange enough it made Jude bark out a laugh too, even though the topic of his mama wasn’t funny at all.
Brody Madoc grunted. “Not sure if you know this, Keeper, but Micah doesn’t want to talk about your mama.”
Harrison Black—the crazy ex-SAS officer who’d come into Endgame right after he left his country’s service—followed up on Brody’s comment by making a kissing noise. It was designed to piss Jude off. It did, but not for the reason Black thought.
“That’s right, Keeper. I wanna give your mama a little sugar,” Micah said with another laugh and a wink. Even though his best friend teased him, something had been off with Micah for a few weeks. A darkness filled his eyes, tension rode his shoulders, and he’d been distant. Jude would take him out for a beer when they got back and ask him what was up.
But he couldn’t let the teasing go without a pop of his neck and a glare, giving them all his patented shut-the-hell-up look. Why he bothered, he had no idea. It never worked. “Seriously, man, stop talking about my mama.”
Jude didn’t even like acknowledging he had a mother, much less having his teammates talk shit about her. She’d once been the light of his meager family, but then she’d abandoned him for a career in, of all things, Mexican soap operas. Becoming famous in her home country had been more important than her son. And yeah, there was a whole story there that Micah knew well and Jude sure as hell didn’t want to dwell on, so he turned his mind to this mission’s spec ops and tried to drown out the sound of Rook Granger and Jonah Knight joining in on the amusement. Even though this wasn’t Jude’s favorite subject, the tension in the room eased with the men’s laughter.
A shrill whistle sounded in the bunker room, and Jude sought out the source. What met his eyes was Ella striding confidently into the war room like she owned it. And there went the tension—right back through Jude’s roof.
“Ella-Bella got called up, huh?” Chase
