“You’re so hilarious, dude.” Fitz bumped knuckles with the guy who had gotten him out of more jams than any one sailor had a right to expect. “Thanks for the invite. And the pickup. I could’ve figured out how to get to Duchess Island on my own.”
Several members of Fitz’s former SEAL team had landed in the Bahamas after leaving the navy and started a parasailing and snorkeling-excursion company for tourists at one of the many resorts flung across the gorgeous waters. Nice work if you could get it.
“Nah. I’m the one who dragged you down here. Least I could do is offer my navigation services.” Jack led the way through the throngs of tourists at the Freeport airport and jerked his head toward a small knot of hot women in short shorts and halter tops. “It’s not like the view sucks.”
“Then why are you walking so fast, jerkweed?” Fitz muttered and saluted the women as they waved with wide smiles. “I’m definitely in the mood for a leggy blonde, preferably one for each arm. I don’t plan on doing anything more strenuous for the next week than picking who gets to be on top.”
That was his recipe for getting back in tune with his gut—relax with a wet and willing woman who had a creative streak in bed. Once his body got good and primed, the instinct that had served him so well for so long in tricky counterterrorism maneuvers would return.
“About that.” Jack shuttled Fitz along without allowing even a second for him to catch the name of the hotel the hot girls were staying at. “I have a favor to ask.”
“No,” Fitz shot back instantly. “Especially not if it’s like the last favor you asked me to do.”
He and Jack were both southern boys from almost the same neck of the woods—Jack was from New Orleans, and Fitz hailed from Gulfport—and they’d instantly bonded during Hell Week back in Coronado when they went through SEAL training together. That bond had gotten him into more trouble than he cared to remember. But bleeding with a guy made you family, even if Jack had abandoned the team for greener pastures.
“It’s not going to be like Kandahar.” Jack lowered his voice. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL, and it was ingrained to watch what you said no matter where you were. “And hey, hold a grudge much? That was three years ago. Besides, you owe me.”
Yeah. He totally did. They didn’t call Jaxon Hyland Jack-of-All-Trades for nothing. The man was a genius at figuring out ways to bail his team out of any situation with nothing more than, say, chewing gum, string, and glass cleaner at his disposal. To say he owed his life to Jack would not be an understatement.
Fitz slapped his friend on the back as Jack flagged down a cab outside the airport. “Can I at least have a beer first?”
“Man, you can have all the beer you want as soon as we get to the island. Just hear me out.”
They hopped into a cab, and the bustle of Freeport swallowed the vehicle whole as the driver navigated around an ancient bus, between a limo and an honest-to-God mounted police officer on a chestnut horse that flicked his tail in the direction of the car.
“It must be a big favor since you’re dragging it out.” Fitz craned his neck to enjoy the sights as the cab turned down a street full of stores, and yes, Virginia, Santa Claus must exist, because as far as the eye could see, scantily clad woman lined the shops or sat at open-air bars with umbrella drinks. One of each happened to be exactly what was on his Christmas list.
“Nah, it’s nothing. Just a small change of plans,” Jack said brightly. “You know how I told you the Galloway Games are going on this week and you’d have to sleep on my couch since the resort is booked?”
“Sure.” Which of course had required a little Internet recon on whatever the hell the Galloway Games were since he’d never heard of them. “It’s like a scavenger hunt or something. With a race against the clock thrown in.”
“Yeah, and the prize is fifty grand. I need the cash, bro. So I signed us up,” Jack said in a rush, likely because he knew what Fitz was going to say. “And I already paid the entry fee. Nonrefundable.”
“You… did what?” The naked women dancing in his head vanished in a flash as he envisioned sweating his way through a foot race. With Jack. “Are you insane? This is a vacation, not Hell Week Part Two. Which it most certainly would be as I chase your fifty grand around the Bahamas instead of lounging on the beach like I came here for.”
With a classic Hyland shrug, Jack blew off all of Fitz’s concerns. “Look, man, it’ll be a piece of cake. Tailor-made for two guys who earned the trident every day. Name one thing we’ve ever done together that we did not dominate.”