Page 21 of Guarded By the SEAL
ANY LUCK ON FINDING HER HIGH SCHOOL? Wyatt asked.
NOT YET, wrote Logan. SEEMS HARDER THAN IT SHOULD BE.
Wyatt texted his thanks and dialed the HERO Force situation room for an update.
The Warsaw plan called for Ralph and Hawk to be on the ground at Steele’s estate, with Jax monitoring operations nearby. If conditions were favorable, they should already be inside—though he knew from experience that any number of unforeseen events could have stalled their progress.
The phone rang off the hook.
Wyatt frowned and ended the call. No matter how the mission was going so far, a member of the team should have been in the sit-room to answer the phone. What if something had gone wrong? What if the shit had hit the fan and Steele had gotten the upper hand, forcing Ralph and Hawk to abort the mission?
He cursed under his breath.
He should be there, not Ralph. He wanted to be there, damn it, wanted to be on the front lines and have the opportunity to take that monster down. The HERO Force team wouldn’t kill Steele, of course—not unless their own lives were threatened. But Jax’s intel said there was enough evidence on the premises to put Steele away for the rest of his life, and then some.
Wyatt took his Glock from its holster, removing the magazine and tucking it into the pocket of the jeans he wore. God forbid Ivy awoke in the night and found his weapon. He needed to be sure it was safe for her to handle, just in case. He lowered himself to the floor, pulling his T-shirt over his head and tossing it aside before yanking the thin motel blanket over his legs. He preferred to sleep naked, which meant he was downright uncomfortable in addition to being concerned about his HERO Force teammates, and he was downright grumpy that he wasn’t with them.
They’re fine.
You’re worrying over nothing.
He forced his eyes to close. Tomorrow, they’d make it to his house in Atlanta. The sisters would be safe. Logan and Cowboy could investigate the congressman-daddy and the trailer fire, while Wyatt could rejoin Hawk, Jax, and Ralph in Colorado—maybe even in time to get in on the mission to take Steele down.
That last part was unlikely, but hey—a man could hope.
Satisfied with his plan, Wyatt settled into sleep. He was damn near dead to the world when Teslyn’s cries startled him awake. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, barely able to make out the room in the darkness. Red numbers glowed on a digital clock, and he remembered it was to the right of the big king bed.
“No, please.” Her voice had the strangled sound of a sob. In one movement, he grabbed his gun, slid the magazine home, and jumped to his feet like the trained soldier he was. He rushed to her side, relieved to see her sleeping face in the glow of the alarm clock. She was dreaming. Talking in her sleep.
Her mouth pulled down into a hard frown, her face contorting into a tortured mask. “I’m a good girl.”
He knew how badly she needed to rest, but he couldn’t listen to her carrying on like this. It rattled his protective instincts, no matter it was only a dream. Besides, he told himself as he gently shook her shoulder, she was bound to wake Ivy if she kept calling out like this. “Tess, wake up, sweetie.” He cursed his use of the endearment, not intending to mix any such language into his speech. He shook her a little more forcefully. “Wake up, Tess. You’re dreaming.”
In the space of an instant, she opened her eyes and swung for his face, his hand grabbing her wrist tightly in mid-air.
“Let me go!” she snapped, working to yank her arm back as her legs kicked at his hip and torso. She was like an angry stallion, all fear and outrage.
“Stop it,” he barked. “Teslyn, it’s me, Wyatt. Stop it!”
She landed a kick to his kidney and he grunted, no longer willing to play nice. He shifted his weight, wrestling her backward with an ease borne of strength, and pinned her wrists to the bed. His face was mere inches from hers, her eyes wild. “It’s me. Wyatt.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the fight refusing to drain from her body even as she asked urgently, “Wyatt?”
“Yes.”
He could feel the moment she remembered him, her muscles going lax. “I thought… I thought you were… ”
He leaned back, settling his weight away from her. “You were dreaming.”
“I’m sorry.”
He should mind his own damn business. This woman was nobody to him, just a temporary distraction from his regularly scheduled life—and boy, was Ghost going to owe him one after this. But he heard himself ask, “You have dreams like that a lot?”
“Nightmares,” she said softly. “They’re nightmares.”
He swallowed hard. What was the harm in trying to help her? Anyone would do the same. It wasn’t like it mattered to him, like he actually cared for her. Did he? “Always the same, or different?”
“The same.”
