“Point made. Thanks to all those movies and documentaries and books, I’ve heard all about SEALs. Tell me more about these PJs.”
Jose scanned the perimeter, monitoring every shifting branch and shadow, assessing every scratch or crackle. For now, all could be chalked up to nature. “We rescue. Let’s just say we PJs thank God the SEALs are on our side and the SEALs thank God for us when they need someone to haul their asses out.”
“Kinda like ‘you f**k up, we pick up’?”
Sounded like the kid knew a little about the PJs after all. Kid? Sutton was around twenty-two. Jose had had four years of active duty military service under his belt by then.
Jose just stared back, silently, until a rustling from the lean-to pulled his attention off the kid. Rolling to his feet, he landed in a crouch by instinct. Weapon drawn, he scanned the dark.
Stella raised a hand. “Hold on. Just me.”
Jose lowered his gun. “Sorry to have woken you.”
“You didn’t. I’m too wired to sleep long. Once we get out of here, though, I’ll be comatose for days.” Sitting up, she pulled the wrap around her shoulders like a shawl. “PJs don’t like to talk about themselves.”
“Then let’s not,” Jose said, night sounds humming in agreement.
She shoved her thick red braid over her shoulder, sweeping the escaping wisps away. “Most folks have never heard of the pararescuemen. There are only about three hundred and fifty in the world.”
Sutton hooked his arm on his knees, leaning in. “That’s crazy cool. Dude, you should be bragging in bars left and right. Think of the babes you could score.”
Stella scrunched her nose in disdain. “So you’re the kind who pretends to be an astronaut to pick up women?”
Sutton clapped a hand to his chest. “That would be very dishonorable.”
Damn straight.
Stella scooted closer. “Their training takes nearly two years. They do the SEAL survival stuff, assault, protection courses, as well as becoming medics—except for the officer on the team. Anyhow, their focus is on rescue, but they need the insertion and force protection skills to make that happen.”
Jose couldn’t figure out why the hell she was telling all this stuff about PJs, and then it hit him. If she put the focus on his job—more of a known entity—then it took the focus off her real job. She was good. Really good.
So he let her keep talking; no hardship. He could just sit and take in the sight of her, so sexy with her hair mussed from sleep. After a month away from her, he soaked up the sound of her.
He was a sap.
Sutton held up the shield, grinning. “So I shouldn’t piss off these two badasses. What else should I know about your boyfriend?”
“Former boyfriend,” she said quickly, too quickly. “He and his buds rescue downed pilots in war zones—even jump into the ocean to assist during astronauts’ landings. But their work isn’t restricted to military settings; they help SWAT teams, the FBI.”o;Water buffaloes are cool. Elephants and lions too.”
“True, true.” He nodded toward the cluster of trees. “But these little dudes? Cooler. Way cooler.”
“Why is that?” she asked, realizing he had a point in bringing her here. This wasn’t a random choice.
For a moment, she didn’t think he would answer. He just stared out over the glistening waterfall surrounded by trees. The wind rippled his T-shirt and khakis as his booted feet hung over the edge. “Every year, my dad gave my sister and me money to buy summer passes to the zoo while he worked. My sister—Bianca—and I would pack a sack lunch and a jug of Kool-Aid. We would spend all day at the zoo hanging out.”
“Sounds like fun.” An idyllic image took shape in her mind. “How old were you?”
“We started when my sister turned eleven and could babysit me.”
“Your mom worked?”
He shook his head, scooping up a handful of pebbles and tossing them from hand to hand. “She was… sick.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, waiting, but he didn’t elaborate. “How many days a week did you go to the zoo?”
“Monday through Friday. We slept in late, then my sister and I headed over. It was walking distance.” He tossed a small rock over the edge into the swirling waters below. “I know. Sounds bad, two kids walking alone.”
“I’m not judging.” Okay, that was a lie, but she wanted him to keep talking. “I’m listening.”