Homecoming Hero (2 page)

“No.” He sucked in a harsh breath. “
No.
His death was senseless, but not unusual. Our Humvee hit a roadside bomb. Clay lived a few minutes longer than the other three soldiers with us.”

The other three? Counting Clay and Captain Wolfson that made five men in the truck. “Are you saying you were the only one who made it out alive?”

“Yes.” The word came out softer than a whisper. And so sorrowful.

Hailey clasped his hand a little harder. “I'm sorry.”

He squeezed back, then lifted his gaze to meet hers. She gasped at what she saw in his eyes. Pain. Grief. And something else. Guilt, maybe? Was he suffering from survivor's guilt? She'd heard about the terrible emotion, but had never truly understood it. Until now.

Lord, how do I help this man?

She wasn't trained for something like this. It was more than she could handle.

Just as despair nearly overtook her, Wolf's face cleared of all expression and he tugged his hand free. “Clay made one final request before he died.”

A sense of dread whipped through her. She didn't want to hear the rest. Captain Wolfson had the unrelenting look of a man filled with resolve, the kind of determination a person got when he had to do
or say
something awful.

As afraid as she was to hear the rest, she had to ask, had to know. “What was my brother's last request?”

“He asked me to stop you from going to the Middle East.”

Hailey shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “But…that doesn't make any sense.”

In fact, the very idea was absurd.

Captain Wolfson rolled his shoulders, his gaze never fully releasing hers. “He was adamant.”

“You must have misunderstood. My becoming a missionary was Clay's idea.”

“Not in the end.” He spoke the words in a hard, ruthless tone while his eyes—those sad, grief-stricken eyes—flared with raw emotion.

Hailey wished she didn't see the misery in him, didn't understand it and want to soothe it away. So she focused on what she knew for certain. “You're mistaken. Clay's e-mails said otherwise. I saved them all, including the one where he first encouraged me to start the application process.”

“Yeah, well, he changed his mind.” Wolf's tone hardened even more than before. “When he was bleeding out on the desert floor.”

Hailey recoiled. “How can you say something so awful, so…
graphic?
”

“Because you're not listening to me.” He rose abruptly, towering over her with his massive size. He looked every bit the warrior now, a man who had seen and done awful things.

Odd, but she wasn't afraid of him. Only confused. His words and attitude didn't match any of what Clay had said to her. “It's… I mean, I…”

“Hailey. Listen to me.” His voice shook as he dropped to one knee. The gesture brought his gaze at eye level with hers. “Clay was right to send me. You can't travel to the Middle East right now.”

“But—”

“
Listen
to me. It's not safe. Your brother didn't want you in danger.”

She heard the plea in his voice, saw the conviction in his bunched shoulders. “But, Captain Wolfson, mission work is dangerous. Clay knew that.
I
know it, too.”

“I don't care how prepared you think you are, you can't go in there alone.”

She touched his shoulder, surprised at the tension she felt under her hand. “I won't be alone. I'll have others with me. And, of course, I'll have God.”

“God?”
His shocked gaze locked with hers. “The Lord can't protect you from IEDs.”

She sighed at his vehemence, not to mention his very real anger at God. She had to make him understand the Truth. “If it's His will, He can. Besides, you're missing the point.”

“No. You are.”

Looking into Wolf's angry expression, Hailey knew words wouldn't get through to him now. But maybe a firsthand account would.

“Come to church with me this afternoon,” she said.

He looked at her as if she'd gone insane.

“We're having a reception for some visiting missionaries,” she explained quickly. “Including a couple who are permanently based in the Middle East.”

He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but she
raised her hand to stop him from interrupting her. “No. Wait. Don't say anything yet. I want to make a deal with you first.”

His eyes narrowed. “What sort of deal?”

“If you promise to listen to the Mulligans' story without judgment, then I'll promise to listen to your arguments with the same mind-set.”

He looked at her for an endless moment. As each second passed, frustration filled his gaze. But then he shook his head at her and said, “You're not going to listen to another word I say unless I agree to this, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You are one hardheaded woman, Hailey O'Brien.” His tone held a hint of admiration.

“So I've been told, Captain Wolfson.”

A moment of solidarity passed between them. And something else. Something pleasant, but not altogether comfortable. “So you'll come with me today?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want me to listen to the rest of your arguments.”

He smiled at her then, with the kind of stomach-twisting grin that turned his blue, blue eyes to a deep midnight. He no longer reminded her of Clay. In fact, the man was far too handsome for his own good. Hailey had to remind herself why he was here. He wanted to stop her from going to the Middle East.

“All right. You win this round, Hailey. For the next, let's say, two hours.” He glanced at his watch. “I'm all yours.”

I'm all yours.
Hailey's heart kicked hard against her ribs.
I'm. All. Yours.

Three simple words, spoken in such a matter-of-fact tone. But Hailey knew the battle was far from over.

Captain Wolfson had made a promise to her dying brother. He didn't seem like a man who would relent easily.

Of course, what he didn't know was that she'd made her own promise. To the Lord.

H
ailey stepped onto the front porch ahead of Captain Wolfson. Although she could feel his intense gaze on her, she managed to click the lock in place on the first try.

Gathering her composure, she turned to face him directly.

Their gazes locked, held. And held some more.

Her pulse did a little cha-cha before settling into a heavy, thick
thump…thump…thump
.

Something deep inside her, the part she'd ignored since Clay's death, recognized this man as a kindred spirit. Was it solidarity from a mutual loss? Or something more disturbing?

Either way, it wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to be emotionally involved with a man after only a half-hour acquaintance.

Yet, here she stood, blinking at him without a word coming to mind. As the silence lengthened, the cold, wet air encircled them, creating an illusion that they were the only two people left in the world.

She wasn't attracted to the man. Was she? No. He wasn't her type. She preferred artistic intellectuals who
wore wire-framed glasses. Not big, strong, elemental warriors.

“Where are you parked?” she asked, pleased at her even tone. If her mother was still alive she'd be proud of Hailey. After all, O'Brien women always kept control of a situation, no matter how unusual, unexpected or emotionally charged.

“I'm three blocks that way.” He angled his head to her left.

She lifted her eyebrows, fully aware that the city's layout didn't afford adequate parking. “You actually found an open spot on the street?”

“Yeah. Total cakewalk.” He gave her a wry grin. “If you consider three passes down eight different streets easy.”

Hailey heard a trace of humor underneath the frustration in his voice. He didn't seem angry about the inconvenience of finding a parking space, only mildly annoyed. That said a lot about his character.

Her brother's friend was a patient man, even when he was clearly exhausted.

She found herself intrigued by him all over again.

Hailey, no. Not your type. Remember why he sought you out today.
“Captain Wolfson—”

“Ty.” One side of his mouth kicked up. “My name is Ty.”

Oh, why,
why
did he have to turn appealing now, when she was working so hard to put him in the role of opponent?

A breathy sigh slipped out of her before she could stop it. “Ty, I—”

“Or…you can call me Wolf.”

Wolf.
Right. That's what Clay had called him. She
could see why, too. His eyes were just like a wolf's. Stark, emotionless, guarded. Maybe even a little scary.

“Who's afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?”

He sighed, looking slightly disappointed in her. Clearly, he'd heard that one before.

Why had she said it, anyway? Maybe it was because his grin had made her feel like Little Red Riding Hood skipping unwittingly into the beast's trap.

She'd been wrong in her earlier assessment of the man. He wasn't elemental.

He was dangerous.

And when it came to men, Hailey O'Brien did not
do
dangerous. Ever.

It was important she remember that little factoid about herself. “All jokes aside, I think Wolf suits you best.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Call me whatever you like.”

“Well then,
Wolf,
do you want to ride with me?”

“No.” He looked over his shoulder in the direction he'd indicated earlier. “I have my own wheels.”

His answer was quick. A little too quick. “How can I be sure you'll show?”

“Because I said I would.”

She recognized her mistake at once. Even without Clay's e-mails to attest to his character, the rough honesty and deep code of ethics Wolf lived by were obvious in his direct gaze and straightforward manner.

“I'm sorry.” She broke eye contact, resisting an urge to dig her toe in the knothole at her foot. “I didn't mean to insult you.”

“Apology accepted.”

Before he could speak again, she rattled off the address for Faith Community Church.

He nodded. “I know the one.”

Again, he surprised her. “You do?”

He didn't reply at first, merely stared at her. A battle seemed to wage behind his eyes before he said, “Hailey, this isn't my first trip to Savannah. I was at Fort Stewart six months before I was deployed to Iraq this last time.”

“But Clay's e-mails said you two met in Iraq.”

“We did. We became friends—” He stopped, shut his mouth, swallowed hard and then started again. “We became
friends
when I got transferred to his platoon twelve months ago.”

She reached out to touch his arm but he shifted away and then started down the front steps ahead of her. Without turning around, he waited for her to join him.

Play it safe, use your head and never, never make a decision out of emotion.
Those had been the rules the old Hailey had lived by before Clay died. The
new
Hailey was a full-grown, twenty-six-year-old woman who lived by a different set of standards. She took risks. Lots of them. Well, not yet. But she would soon. When she boarded a plane to Iraq. Or Afghanistan. Or wherever the mission board sent her.

Deciding to start being brave right now, Hailey marched down the stairs, head held high, and faced Wolf. “I'll see you at the church in fifteen?”

“Just so we're clear,” he began. “I'll meet your missionaries. I'll listen to their stories, but then you have to let me say what I came to tell you. All of it. Without interruption.”

“That's the plan.”

“Good. We understand one another.” He turned to leave without speaking another word.

Oh, but she'd caught the grim expression on his face. And the unrelenting tilt of his chin. On the surface, the
man looked like a hard, physical specimen ruled by his own prowess. But Captain Wolfson was no knuckle-dragger. He was intelligent, determined and loyal.

He was not going to come around to her way of thinking easily.

Sighing, Hailey watched him head down the sidewalk. Only then did she notice his slight limp. Had he been injured during the attack?

It was possible. After all, he'd been blown up by an IED. The muscles in her stomach twitched at the thought.

Lord, why have You brought this man into my life? Why now?

With effort, she folded her confusion deep inside her and headed toward her own car.

Twenty minutes later, Hailey steered into the parking lot of Faith Community Church of Savannah. A feeling of home washed over her.

Like most modern churches, FCC was a functional collection of brick, glass and steel. But despite its lack of worldly grandeur, Hailey always met the Lord here. Even during the dark days following Clay's death, she'd found comfort. And peace. Not from the building, but from her church family.

It was her turn to give back to others in need. A spurt of excitement twisted along her spine. She would no longer be on the sidelines, waiting her turn. Soon, she would be in the heart of the action.

Smiling, she exited her car at the same moment a motorcycle roared into the empty spot beside her. The snarl of the engine had her jumping back. Her hand flew to her throat and she flattened herself against her car.

Loud, obnoxious, danger-on-two-wheels—what sort of insane,
crazy
person rode a steel beast like that?

As soon as the question came to her, she noticed that the person climbing off the bike wore BDUs and tan army boots. Even before he removed his helmet, she knew whose face she'd see.

Didn't she already recognize the powerful set of Wolf's shoulders and the way he favored his left leg?

There was something so familiar about the man, something that made her feel both safe and uneasy at the same time.

Maybe it was because he reminded her of Clay.

Or…maybe not.

She took in a steadying breath and sighed. She might tell herself she liked the artistic type, she might even believe it in her head, but Captain Wolfson was a
man.
A warrior. A bona fide hero in BDUs.

It was hard not to be attracted to him.

Her twenty-six years of safe existence hadn't prepared her for someone like him, someone who made her question everything she'd ever known about herself and the very real need in the world around her.

Wasn't that the point of her decision to become a missionary? To live out her faith among people? After all, what good did a formal education and countless Bible studies do if she didn't put her knowledge to use in the real world?

And this man, the one pulling off a
motorcycle
helmet, was here to stop her from taking the next step in her Christian walk.

Fat chance.

Convicted all over again, she waited for Wolf to join her on the sidewalk that led to the front of the main church building.

They walked in silence.

Despite her best intentions, Hailey kept sending him
covert glances from below her lashes. She was aware of the man with a sharp-edged clarity that was downright disturbing. “You won't regret joining me this afternoon.”

He made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat.

Ho-kay, so he was going to play it
that
way?

“I thought you promised an open mind?” she said, failing to keep her annoyance out of her voice.

“It's open.” He tapped his left temple. “Wide open.” He sounded sincere. But then he gave her a grin that could only be described as…wolfish. Oh, boy.

Thankfully, she caught sight of a familiar face heading their way. Relief spread through her. “Look, there's J.T.” She lifted her hand in greeting.

“Who's J.T.?” Wolf asked, his voice wary.

“Our mission's pastor.”

“Right.”

Hailey wasn't sure what she heard in Wolf's voice, but he didn't sound convinced.

His next words confirmed her suspicion. “He doesn't look like any pastor I've met before.”

Hailey eyed J.T., trying to see him from a newcomer's point of view. “That's because he looks younger than he really is. Don't be fooled, he's in his thirties.”

“It's not his age.” Wolf narrowed his eyes. “It's something…else.”

There was such gravity in his voice that Hailey felt the need to reassure him. “J.T.'s a good guy. You'll like him.” She played her ace. “Clay did. They were friends.
Good
friends.”

Before Wolf could respond J.T. pulled her into a tight hug. “Hellooooo, beautiful.”

 

Wolf had thought he'd seen everything. He'd survived fifteen brutal years with a mean, alcoholic father. He'd lived on his own for the next fifteen after that. He'd faced insurgents, enemy fire and an IED. But he'd never confronted anything—or anyone—like Hailey's pastor.

Man of God or not, the guy was overly friendly with Clay's sister. In fact,
Pastor
J.T. hugged Hailey a little too long, with far too much enthusiasm.

Inappropriate.
That's the word that came to mind as the two finally untangled from each other's arms.

When J.T. kept his hands on Hailey's shoulders, a white-hot ball of emotion roiled in Wolf's stomach. He ignored the sensation and detached himself emotionally from the situation. He was a master at compartmentalizing. It was a gift.

Besides, what did it matter whether he approved of the relationship between Hailey and her pastor?

It was none of his business, emphasis on
none.

“J.T.,” she said, “I have someone I'd like you to meet.” Hailey shifted out of the pastor's reach—which was good—and turned those compelling green eyes onto Wolf. Not so good.

His breath tightened in his throat and that ball of emotion rolling around in his stomach tied into a tight knot.

So much for detachment.

“Wolf, this is J. T. Wagner, our mission's pastor.”

Despite his instant dislike of the guy, Wolf shook J.T.'s hand. With his surfer-dude, spiky, sun-streaked hair, ratty cargo pants and rock-star T-shirt, J.T. looked like a grown man masquerading as a teenager.

Something wasn't right.

Other than a diamond stud in his left earlobe, the pastor wore no jewelry. Not even a wedding ring.

Yeah, Wolf had checked.

After another moment of inspection, Wolf realized why the picture didn't fit completely. Despite the civilian clothing, J.T. had military written all over him. It was in his stance and the way he moved.

A former soldier turned pastor. Talk about a walking, talking nightmare for a man who didn't want to discuss the military or what had happened in Iraq or anything to do with the good Lord.

Wolf had to give the guy points, though. J.T. didn't flinch under his scrutiny.

Hailey cleared her throat. “J.T., Wolf was a friend of Clay's. They were together in Iraq.”

J.T. nodded at Wolf, and a moment of camaraderie passed between them. Wolf didn't know what to do with that. He'd decided to dislike the man, on principle if nothing else. But he realized that wasn't going to be as easy as he'd first thought.

“How long have you been home, soldier?”

“Since this morning.”

J.T. cocked his head. “Did they have a welcome-home parade at Cottrell Field?”

Wolf rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “I chose not to attend.”

He'd told himself it was because he'd been focused on getting to Hailey and fulfilling his duty. But his reasons were more complicated than that.

Without Clay and the others marching by his side, Wolf didn't deserve a welcome-home celebration.

Had he seen that bump in the road, had he paid more attention to that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that day, all four of his fallen friends would be here today.

He—

Hailey touched his sleeve, her soft voice breaking through his thoughts. “You didn't look for Clay's tree?”