LITMIR.BIZ

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landing strip outside of Camp Lemonnier on the Horn of Africa. “Twice was enough. I thought you’d snared a ride with the 160th Night Stalkers. I prefer helicopters. You know how I feel about crop dusters.”

      Buck clapped a hand to his shoulder and turned him back around. “Now, don’t go getting your boxers in a twist.”

      “I don’t wear boxers,” Pitbull grumbled.

      “You’ve flown with Marly twice. She’s a good pilot and she knows her plane. And it’s not a crop duster. Besides, nothing bad happened on the previous two flights. What makes you think anything will happen this time?”

      Pitbull frowned as he let Buck guide him toward the small bush plane they’d used in their last operation to rescue the US Secretary of Defense’s son and his hot, tough-as-nails assistant. “Yeah, but three’s a charm.” He tipped his head toward the offending aircraft. “Look at it. I swear it’s only held together by spit and duct tape.”

      With a low chuckle, Buck leaned closer. “Don’t let Marly hear you badmouth her bird. She might decide to leave us behind.”

      “That would be just fine with me.” Pitbull sighed. “I can’t believe you talked me into doing this.” He shook his head. “I’d have been perfectly happy waiting for our next assignment back at camp.”

      “Seriously?” Diesel shot a glance over his shoulder as he walked ahead. “You have the chance of a lifetime to go on a safari in Africa, and you’d rather stay at Camp-Hot-As-Hell-in-the-Friggin’-Desert eating MREs?”

      “I can’t believe the CO granted us leave here in Africa.” Harm came up from behind Pitbull, sliding his backpack over his left shoulder. “Somebody slip something into his drink last night?”

      “I think he got a little pressure from the Sec Def,” Big Jake said.

      “One week.” T-Mac grinned back at Pitbull and Harm from where he walked next to Diesel. “One whole week to get a real feel for the majesty of the savanna and experience all the animals we only see in zoos.” The man practically skipped toward the plane, his step quickening as if he feared the CO would show up and pull their leave request. T-Mac had a knack with animals. He planned to own a ranch when his gig with the navy was up. He talked nonstop about the horses, cattle, llamas and other exotics he planned to populate the ranch with when he got out.

      That was T-Mac.

      Pitbull couldn’t think past the plane standing in front of him. He much preferred helicopters. Oh, he knew they were more dangerous than planes, but he’d grown accustomed to them. The whopping sound of rotors soothed his anxieties about heights and leaving the ground. The single-engine prop job of an airplane didn’t give him the warm fuzzies. Far from it.

      As they neared the plane, Pitbull’s nerves stretched. He focused on the pilot walking around the exterior, performing preflight checks.

      They’d met Marly Simpson a couple weeks ago, when she’d helped them on a mission. They’d needed air transport in a hurry and had been forced to skip the call to their usual helicopter support team. She’d come through in the pinch.

      But hell, they weren’t in a pinch now. Why the hell did they have to fly in that tin can?

      Marly wore a khaki-colored flight suit, the outfit hugging her slender body like a glove, accentuating every curve. The woman was a no-holds-barred, tough gal who could hold her own in any conversation or situation. She flew all over the African continent in that rust bucket, transporting people and cargo to the most inaccessible, dangerous and god-awful places without batting a single pretty eyelash.

      Yeah, Pitbull had noticed Marly and the fact she had a sexy, slender neck, ripe for kissing. Her long sandy-blond hair hung down to her waist when she pulled it out of the perpetual ponytail she wore, but that didn’t make the fact they were flying in a single-engine prop job to their vacation destination any more appealing to Pitbull. It helped, but not enough.

      Marly completed her inspection before they reached her and turned in their direction. “Hi,” she said in her unassuming, warm voice, a smile spreading across her face. “Great to see you guys.”

      Harm reached her first.

      Marly held out her hand. “Harm, you’re looking well.”

      “You, too.” Harm shook her hand and stood back as she greeted the rest of the team.

      Diesel took her outstretched hand and pulled her into a bear hug. “Can’t tell you how glad we were when you said you could take us to Kenya.”

      “My pleasure.” She smiled up at Diesel. “How’s Reese?”

      He gave half a smile. “She’s in the States. She promised me a date when I got back.”

      Marly’s lips pressed together. “Long-distance relationships. They can suck.”

      “Yeah.” Diesel shrugged. “But what can you do? If you love someone enough, you can work it out. And I’m not ashamed to admit I’m completely smitten with Reese.”

      “Never thought I’d hear those words coming out of your mouth.” Buck bumped Diesel’s shoulder with one of his own. “What changed your mind?”

      Diesel laughed. “You have to ask?”

      “Reese.” Big Jake pushed his way through the rest of the team and hugged Marly. “Guess Diesel found his soul mate, or some other drivel.”

      Diesel balled his hands into a fist, a fierce frown pulling his brows low. “I take offense to your calling Reese drivel. And since when do you use words like drivel?”

      “You know I don’t mean anything by it,” Big Jake said. “I’m just jealous.” He hooked his arm over Marly’s shoulder. “Will you be my soul mate, Marly? I like an independent badass of a woman.”

      Pitbull’s fists clenched at Big Jake’s casual claim on the pretty pilot. Why he should tense when another man made a move on Marly was beyond him. It wasn’t as if he had a stake in the game or wanted her for himself. A navy SEAL’s life was no place for relationships. Besides, Marly lived and worked in Africa. Other than the occasional mission, they never saw each other. Again...not that he was interested in seeing Marly.

      Although he had to admit, she wasn’t bad looking. Maybe a little less womanly than Pitbull’s usual feminine fare.

      She chortled and threw a light punch into Big Jake’s belly. “Is that how you see me? As a badass?”

      “Damn right,” he replied, rubbing his gut. “Any woman who’d risk flying in and out of some of the most hostile territories in Africa—that alone is downright kickass in my books. And you have a helluva right hook.”

      She nodded. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Tipping her head to the side, she stared up at his six-foot-four-inch frame and narrowed her eyes. “As for being your soul mate, I’ll have to think about it.” She unhooked Big Jake’s arm from around her shoulders and turned to the others. “You can stow your bags in the luggage compartment or behind the back seat inside the plane.”

      While Diesel, Big Jake, Harm, Buck and T-Mac stowed their gear, Marly turned to Pitbull. “What about you?”

      Pitbull’s pulse quickened and his brain scrambled at her direct stare. Shit. What was it about this woman that tied him in knots? He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “What about me?”

      “Are you looking for a soul mate?” Marly’s brows rose.

      “Oh, hell no,” he answered. “What would I do with a soul mate when I’m never in one place long enough to grow roots?”

      “Exactly.” Marly nodded toward the plane. “Besides, I have my soul mate.” She patted the plane’s fuselage. “He doesn’t argue with me much, sweeps me off my feet and carries me anywhere I want to go.”

      Pitbull frowned. “Your plane?”

      Marly

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