LITMIR.BIZ

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his steel-plated vest out of his go bag and laid it out on his bunk. “You’ll get it when you find the woman who makes you reconsider everything you ever thought to be true.”

      “Now you’re starting to sound sappy. I’m not sure I want to find a woman who makes me go soft.” T-Mac strapped a scabbard around his calf and stuck his Ka-Bar knife into it. “Next thing you know, you’ll be second-guessing yourself on the battlefield.”

      “Never.” Harm shrugged into his vest and secured several empty magazines into the straps. “Let’s quit flapping our gums and go meet up with your cute dog handler.”

      “She’s not my dog handler.”

      “No?” Harm gave him a side-eye glance and raised one eyebrow. “Sure looked like it to the rest of us.”

      “She’s not my dog handler,” T-Mac insisted, his tone hard, his lips tight.

      “Whatever you say.” Harm grabbed his helmet and stepped out of the box. “But between the two of you redheads, you’d make some really cute redheaded babies.”

      “She’s not my redhead,” T-Mac said through clenched teeth as he snagged his helmet and followed Harm. “And we’re not having babies.”

      “Who’s having babies?” Buck fell in step behind Harm and T-Mac. “If T-Mac is planning on marrying the dog handler, they can start their own ginger basketball team. Or hockey team. Or whatever team they want. They’d all be gingers.”

      “We’re not getting married. She’s not my dog handler, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything around her about babies and basketball teams.” T-Mac picked up the pace, hoping that by walking faster, his teammates wouldn’t have the time nor desire to poke fun at him.

      Pitbull and Big Jake stepped out of the quarters they shared.

      “What’s this about babies and basketball teams?” Pitbull asked. “Is T-Mac marrying his dog handler?”

      T-Mac threw his hand in the air. “She’s not my dog handler.”

      Big Jake chuckled. “I think he protests too much. I swear I saw something between the two of them.”

      “You can’t see something that wasn’t there.” T-Mac sighed. “I get it. This is all part of razzing me because I choose to stay a bachelor and have my pick of women out there while you losers commit to being with one woman for the rest of your lives. I think I have the better deal.”

      “What deal?” Diesel jogged to catch up to the team. “What did I miss?”

      “T-Mac’s met his match,” Buck said.

      T-Mac gritted his teeth. “I didn’t.”

      “His dog handler?” Diesel guessed.

      “She’s not my dog handler.” T-Mac might as well have been talking to a wall.

      “Oh, he’s going to fall hard,” Diesel said. “She’s got attitude and a dog. A killer combination. What’s not to love about that?”

      “I’m not in love. She’s not my handler, and I don’t even think the dog likes me.” He glanced toward the container where Specialist Anderson was staying and debated walking past and letting her find her own way to where the helicopters were parked. But he’d promised to walk with her. He slowed, hoping the rest of the team would walk on without questioning why he was stopping.

      But he knew them better than that. They weren’t stupid and they would figure it out pretty quickly.

      “Look, guys, could you be serious for once?” He turned and raised his hand to knock on the door.

      All five of his friends came to a complete stop.

      T-Mac groaned as the door opened.

      Agar came out first and immediately sniffed T-Mac’s crotch.

      A rumble of chuckles sounded behind T-Mac.

      “I guess the dog likes you after all,” Buck muttered.

      More chuckles sounded.

      Heat rose up T-Mac’s neck into his cheeks as he glanced up at Specialist Anderson. “Don’t listen to anything these yahoos say. They’re all full of... Well, they’re full of it, anyway.”

      KINSLEY TORE HER gaze away from the SEAL standing in front of her looking all hot and incredibly sexy in his combat gear. Beyond Petty Officer McGuire stood five of the other men who’d been in the command center minutes before. She stepped out of the doorway, looped the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and double-wrapped the dog’s lead around her hand. “What am I not supposed to listen to them about?”

      “Tell her, T-Mac,” one of them encouraged.

      “We don’t have time for games,” McGuire said. “We have a mission to accomplish before we head home.”

      “You’re heading home?” Kinsley asked.

      “Four days and a wakeup,” the tallest of the group answered.

      “Where’s home?” Kinsley fell in step with them as they wove their way through the temporary buildings to the landing strip where planes and helicopters parked.

      “Little Creek, Virginia,” McGuire answered.

      “What about you?” one of the guys asked. “Where is your home base?”

      “San Antonio, Texas, was my last PCS assignment,” Kinsley said.

      “That’s where they train Military Working Dogs, isn’t it?” McGuire asked. “They have a facility at Lackland Air Force Base. Is that where you and Agar received your training?”

      She nodded. “I spent the past year in training.”

      “T-Mac says this is your first assignment since training.”

      Again, Kinsley nodded. “That’s true. Agar was the best in his class. He could find trace amounts of explosives that none of our own detection equipment could pick up.” She patted the dog’s head. “He’s good at what he does. If there are IEDs or land mines, he’ll prove himself tonight.”

      As they reached the helicopters, more SEALs gathered. Ammunition was dispensed. Then it came time for them to load into the helicopters.

      Kinsley started for one of the choppers away from McGuire and his group.

      The navy commander who’d briefed them caught up to her. “You’re riding in the other bird. Stick with T-Mac. He’ll make sure you’re safe.”

      “I can take care of myself,” Kinsley insisted.

      “I understand,” the commander said. “But the team isn’t used to working with a dog and its handler. It’s for their safety as well as yours.”

      Kinsley couldn’t argue with that. Apparently, she was to have a handler. “Yes, sir.”

      The commander escorted her back to the other helicopter where McGuire, or T-Mac, as his team nicknamed him, stood, waiting his turn to climb aboard.

      “T-Mac,” the commander called out.

      The SEAL turned when he saw who was with his superior.

      “I have an assignment for you,” Commander Ward said.

      “Yes, sir,” T-Mac replied.

      “You’re to keep up with Specialist Anderson and Sergeant Agar. Bring them back safely.”

      T-Mac’s eyes narrowed. “Sir?”

      Kinsley stiffened.

      The SEAL didn’t look too excited.

      “You heard me,” the commander said. “Take care of them out there. You don’t know what you’ll be up against.”

      “Yes, sir.” T-Mac

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