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  Glancing over at the tablet again, Frisco felt a river of electricity run down his spine as he stared into the smiling face of a beautiful brunette. Describing her as beautiful was like saying the Mona Lisa was a nice painting. Accurate, but not the whole story. “Which one is which?”

  Carrick gave him an assessing gaze and then answered. “Piper is the blonde, and Brooke is the brunette.”

  Running his hand down his jaw, he decided he needed to meet Brooke Foster PDQ because there was something about her sparkling caramel eyes and mischievous smile that had his heart beating a little faster than usual. “Maybe we should all have dinner before you guys head down to Zakouma.”

  “Possible,” Brendan answered.

  The way Brendan was eyeing him made him think possible was more of a “no fucking way,” which could mean either he had the hots for one of the women and didn’t want competition, or he was in protective mode and didn’t want to have to answer to the rear admiral. Either way, it was damn funny because Brendan was more of a player than Frisco had ever been.

  Glancing over at Carrick’s tablet, he studied the picture of Brooke and wondered if she was half as beautiful in person. Maybe it was some kind of filter, because he couldn’t imagine someone who looked like her being unattached. Just didn’t seem possible.

  And she had to be unattached because, if she was his, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight, much less travel halfway across the world to a war zone.

  Shrugging, he looked across the patio at the moon hanging low in the sky and decided if he was meant to collide with Brooke Foster, he would; if not, it wasn’t meant to be.

  Repeating the sentence silently a couple of times, he decided it wasn’t going to work. There was not a chance in hell he was going to leave meeting Brooke Foster up to fate, and whatever it took to meet her face-to-face was going to happen.

  One way or another.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tuesday, September 5th

  Brooke sat in front of the white tent that was the temporary home for the medical clinic and took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the humid air. The last patient of the day had just left, and she felt like she’d run a marathon, which honestly could describe any one of the days she’d spent in-country.

  Particularly the last sixty.

  The staff had been seeing double the number of patients since the beginning of August, due not only to the increase in population, but also to the recent outbreak of malaria, and everyone was spent.

  The UN Dar es Salaam camp usually had around three thousand inhabitants, but the recent resurgence of violence in northeastern Nigeria had sent another thousand refugees their way, and the UN Refugee Agency was struggling to accommodate the latest arrivals.

  Which made it no different from the many other places she and Piper had been assigned to over the last several years. Working with Doctors Without Borders had long ago taught her there was always going to be more need than actual supply when man’s inhumanity to man took hold.

  Accepting it, however, had never happened.

  Two children wandered by, and Brooke gave them a smile as she watched them drag sticks through the dirt and listened to them chatter. The older one had been in earlier with her mother, and Brooke was happy to see that the bandage they’d placed on her leg was still intact. It was a small win and one she was going to enjoy because the rest of the day had been brutal.

  Looking up to the darkening sky, she wondered if the promised thunderstorm was going to show up a day early and give them a break from the ninety-degree weather. As much as she hoped for the rain, she also dreaded it because the swath of dry, dusty dirt that separated the white plastic UN tents would become a muddy pit. Which was the last thing anyone in the camp needed, because life was already challenging enough.

  Every single person in residence had faced the unimaginable, and very likely would continue to, because the chances of them going home anytime soon were not likely. The Boko Haram insurgency had displaced over two and half million people in the Lake Chad region and, even though the Nigerian military had regained control in parts of the northeast, returning home wasn’t a possibility. The continued gross violations of human rights and widespread sexual violence made it unfeasible, and the whole thing made her sick in a way the events in Sudan never had.

  Was it that the jihadists had wrapped their unspeakable violence in a religious cloth?

  Perhaps.

  A group of children off in the distance caught her attention as they collected firewood, and she wondered what they dreamed of…if anything. Did the horrors of what they’d seen and experienced recede eventually, or did they get replayed every time they closed their eyes? Piper always told her children were the most resilient creatures on earth, and if anyone had a chance of recovering from the horrors of war, it was them.

  Wiping her forehead with her hand, she realized the morbid questions she was asking herself meant it was time to take a break before she took another assignment. The signs of burnout had been happening for a couple of months, and she knew when her natural optimism had turned mostly into despair, it was time to go home and recharge.

  A sudden gust of wind blew the tent flap open, and her best friend, Piper, walked out and secured it before joining her on the ground. “Anything else we need to do before we head back to town?”

  Tightening her ponytail, Piper gave her a smile. “No, we’re done.”

  “Hard to believe that our six-month assignment is over.”

  “This one beat me down,” Piper said as she crossed her legs.

  “Me too,” Brooke replied as she checked her watch. “The Jeep should be here soon to take us back.”

  “I’m ready for a couple of days in N’Djamena and the comforts of the Hilton Hotel before we go down to the park.”

  “Six months without a proper shower has me dreaming of endless hot water and scented bath gel,” Brooke said as she waved to a group of women that was headed to the supply tent. “And, having just uttered that sentence, I realize how awful that sounds, and talking about first world problems is the last thing I should be doing.”

  “We’ve been with MSF for years and have barely spent any time at home, so as far as I’m concerned, we can still have first world problems.” Leaning away, Piper smiled. “It’s time to go home and see if either one of us has it in us to come back out.”

  Running her fingers through the soft sand, she shrugged. “That’s a question I’m afraid to ask myself.”

  “Me too, because this may be my last one,” Piper responded quietly.

  Brooke leaned forward and gazed into her friend’s face. “I was thinking the same thing, but I was going to wait and see how I felt in a couple of weeks.”

  “I’m going to take six months off and then see what I want the next couple of years to look like.”

  “The idea of being back in San Diego is exciting, but also terrifying because I have no idea how I’ll adjust to life back in the States. Not that I’m not interested in finding out, but still…”

  “I’m more than ready because treating the people who’ve survived Boko Haram is on a whole different level.”

  “Maybe it’s just our ability to cope that has changed and not the circumstances. The UN camp in Sudan was horrific, and by all accounts, this should’ve been a piece of cake.”

  “No damn cake here,” Piper remarked as the white Jeep headed toward them with a trail of dust filling the air.

  Shoving herself off her bottom, she stood and waved to Gordan, who ran the clinic in town. “Maybe a new perspective is waiting at home and all we have to do is go there and get it.”

  “I hope so,” Piper replied as she got to her feet.

  Shaking off her gloomy thoughts, Brooke opened the door to the Jeep and gave Gordan a smile. “Hey, handsome.”

  “Jump in, ladies, and don’t be slow about it, because Malaba is preparing a goodbye dinner for you two.”

  Piper climbed into the back and grinned. “I hope she’s makin
g daraba.”

  Brooke snorted and got in the front seat. “Of course she’s making it, because it’s your favorite.”

  “When my mom finds out I now enjoy a stew made with okra, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, greens, and peanut butter, she is going to pee her pants laughing.”

  Gordan lifted his eyebrows and replied, “Your mother would do no such thing. The very proper woman I met back in May would simply smile graciously.”

  “I have to agree,” Brooke said as they drove out of the camp. Watching the women prepare the evening meal over small fires as the children played nearby made her remember that inconceivable beauty and optimism were possible if you knew where to look. And that was something she hoped to carry with her wherever she ended up next.

  ***

  Brooke stood in Malaba’s small kitchen as she washed the last dish and thought about the woman who ran the UN clinic with an iron fist and about how grateful she was to have met her in this part of her journey.

  Malaba had grown up in N’Djamena and trained as a nurse before moving to Baga Sola with her husband, some twenty-five years ago. And, in that time, she had managed to form a relationship with just about everybody who resided in the area. Which was why Gordan, the area director for the UN Refugee Agency, considered her the key to their success in the area.

  Brooke considered her an angel and someone who made her time in Baga Sola bearable. The small lessons she’d learned over the last several months from her were too numerous to count and too invaluable to ever forget.

  Speak of the angel, in she walked with the empty plate that had held her famous date-and-banana squares. “Not one left,” Brooke remarked.

  “There never is,” Malaba replied as she set the dish down on the counter. Crossing her arms over her ample chest, she studied Brooke and waited.

  “What?”

  “It’s time.”

  “For what?”

  Malaba tilted her head slightly and tapped her foot. “This chapter in your book is finished, and it’s time for you to go home and see what the next one is, because you’ve allowed yourself to become estranged from the country of your birth. Whatever you’ve been trying to run from needs to be dealt with, and it can’t be done by hopping from one world crisis to the next.”

  “I’m not running from anything…it’s really more of a payback thing.”

  “Whatever you think you owe has been more than satisfied.”

  Looking down at her scruffy running shoes, she shrugged. “There’s so much to be done, and going home makes me feel selfish.”

  Malaba took a step closer and lifted Brooke’s chin. “There’s always much to be done, but there are other parts of your life that need some attention, and you can’t ignore that fact any longer.”

  “I like making a difference; it’s my favorite part.”

  “If you give yourself the opportunity, you may discover some other ones that are incredibly fulfilling. Whatever has driven you this hard for so long will not sustain you for the rest of your life, and you need to go and find someone to make a life with and have a family.”

  Brooke snorted loudly and waved her hands in dismissal. “Not everyone wants marriage and family.”

  “But everyone wants to be happy, and loving someone can give you that.”

  “I’m happy…ish,” Brooke responded with more confidence than she actually felt. There was truth in the words Malaba had spoken, and, as much as she’d like to deny them, she couldn’t. Living a one-dimensional life had never been her intention, but it sure was what she had ended up with. When she had joined MSF after she graduated with her masters, she thought it was something she would do for a year or two…not five.

  “All the people you’ve met during your time here have experienced unimaginable horror, violence, and loss, and yet, for the most part, they keep taking steps forward in their lives. They are not doing it for their own personal happiness, but for their families. Everyone needs something to work for, and having a family is one of the best ones I’ve ever discovered.”

  Brooke nodded and knew Malaba’s big extended family brought joy to her life that couldn’t be denied. They also brought aggravation, worry, and love. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take a break and see how I feel before I sign another contract with the UN Refugee Agency.”

  Malaba stroked Brooke’s cheek and smiled. “I think it’s a wise choice. Maybe something or someone will come along and show you what your next step should be.”

  “Do you want me to find a boyfriend?” Brooke asked with a laugh.

  Clucking her tongue, Malaba gave her a disapproving look. “Don’t say it like I’m suggesting you take a snake as a pet. Life is meant to have all kinds of experiences, and loving a man is one of the most pleasurable.” Her face split into a wide grin, and she wagged her finger. “As long as you choose a good one.”

  “And therein lies the rub.”

  “What are you rubbing?”

  “It’s not literal, it’s just a saying that means that it’s not something easily accomplished.”

  “Nothing worth having ever is.” Opening her arms, Malaba waited until Brooke stepped into them. Embracing her, she said quietly, “Have faith that the right thing or person is going to show up when you least expect it.”

  Brooke hugged her tightly in return and felt a tear slip down her face. As much as she was ready to go home, she was going to miss the many wonderful people she’d met here in Chad. “Hopefully, I’ll be ready when it happens.”

  “You will be,” Malaba replied confidently.

  “I hope so,” Brooke replied quietly. “I hope so.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Wednesday, September 6th

  Frisco walked into the Hilton Hotel with his men after spending the day at the base, and silently sent up a prayer of gratitude for the cold blast of air that had just hit his face. It was a rare luxury while being deployed, and he was damn grateful he and his team got to spend the night in a hotel and not the barracks.

  Wiping his hand down his face, he felt the grit of the desert sand and decided a long shower was the first thing that needed to happen, and after that…

  “Jones,” a loud voice barked.

  Turning, Frisco looked across the marble lobby and saw Carrick and Brendan standing with two women under a chandelier that reminded him of broken glass, and he felt his heart stutter.

  Once.

  And then again.

  Holy shit balls.

  The picture of Brooke Foster on Carrick’s tablet did not do justice to the living, breathing version that was before him. From the top of her silky brown hair to the bottom of her ratty running shoes, she was breathtaking. Anticipation buzzed inside his gut, and his senses heightened like he was about to go out on a midnight raid. “God damn,” he muttered quietly.

  Jax stood beside him and mumbled, “I’ll second that. That blonde woman is a stunner, and I’m calling dibs.”

  “Pretty sure you can’t call dibs on a woman,” Bryce commented.

  “That’s where you’re absolutely wrong,” Jax replied. “Because I just did.”

  Frisco didn’t respond, because his ability to speak had disappeared along with any hope of reasonable thought. His brain felt like a pinball machine as his thoughts bounced around like a metal ball.

  Add to that the jacked-up feeling that had never happened outside of combat, and he was lucky to be standing upright. Mentally, he measured the space separating them and calculated how quickly he could be at her side.

  Seconds…that was all it would take.

  But…once he got there, what could he do?

  It wasn’t like he could sweep her into his arms and carry her upstairs like his instincts were telling him to. Not only was his man brain sending devour messages, it was also sending don’t-let-go and hold-on messages.

  Something it had never done.

  A hundred questions slid through his brain, and he decided that asking her to dinner was going to be the first one. After that, he’d fin
d out what she liked to eat, where she liked to go, and whether she would be willing to only do them with him.

  Stalking in her direction, he moved toward her like she was his homing device, and saw her smile in Carrick’s direction.

  A goddamn, heart-stopping, perfect smile.

  Fuck.

  What should he look at first? The glossy hair tumbling over her shoulders or the dangerous sparkling eyes? Maybe the radiant smile? Impressions hit him one after another as he moved closer. Her waist was narrow, her hips round, and his dick and brain were in total agreement that he was a dead man.

  As he reached her side, he ignored everyone and took her hand. “You must be Brooke.” When she looked up at him with a confused expression and then a frown, he knew he’d skipped a step.

  Or ten.

  Carrick let out a snort. “Brooke, this is a buddy from the Teams, Frisco Jones.”

  “Nice to meet you, Frisco.” Slipping her hand away, she let out a laugh. “It’s a relief to know you’re just a SEAL and not a…”

  Not wanting to let her finish, he jumped in. “The pleasure is all mine.” When he took her hand again, their eyes locked, and every noise in the place disappeared. He wished for a second the whole planet would too, so he could have her all to himself.

  Hearing his name barked loudly startled him out of his dream world, so he lifted his head and frowned. “What?”

  Smirking, Brendan tilted his head toward the blonde woman and grinned. “Thought you should be introduced to Piper, too.”

  Realizing the woman was Brooke’s best friend, he gave her a warm smile. If he needed anyone’s approval, it was hers, because a guy didn’t stand a chance if the best friend wasn’t on board. “It’s nice to meet you, Piper.”

  “You too.” Lifting her finger, she pointed to her friend’s hand. “Brooke may need that back at some point.”

  The group erupted in laughter, and he turned to see Brooke giving him a small, confused smile. Releasing her hand slowly, he gave her a shrug. “Sorry, I kinda liked having it.” Clearing his throat, he wondered when his brain was going to begin functioning again.