Rescued (Navy SEALS Romance Book 1) Read Online Free

Whatever. She was young and pretty and he supposed somebody somewhere thought that would do something to increase his chances of healing from the inside out. Certainly the fucking gorgeous physical therapist on Coronado had been meant for that. Neither worked. He had yet to meet a woman beautiful enough to make him work harder than he automatically worked for himself and his team. Injured was injured. The Tanner Davis code meant injured was vulnerable and vulnerable put other people at risk. Not acceptable.
    Then again, the male shrink had said the same thing. He'd gone to that guy longer, and clocked out the minute they told him he could.
    He'd deal with it his own way. In his own time.
    The shirt popped over his buzz cut blue black hair. His surprisingly blue eyes met themselves in the depths of the mirror. The shirt dropped over the sculpted pecs, the biceps and triceps that popped from nothing more than getting dressed, and covered the eight pack. He pulled his jeans off over his long lean corded legs, pulled on a brief pair of running shorts, slipped his feet into his socks and then shoes and had his keys in hand, cell on his arm in its band, and was just about to forward the land line to himself when it rang.
    He didn't know whether or not to laugh.
    Probably just Angel, calling in. But he answered with the business name and his own and heard a confused squabble and someone saying something frantic to someone else. He'd be tempted at any other business to hang up on any group so uncoordinated they didn't even say what they wanted when they placed a call but there was a sound of frantic consultation and real fear.
    "Hello?" he bellowed into the phone.
    "Tanner? It's Danny Duncan."
    Tanner ran the name through his mind and came up with a former Marine he'd met at some function on Coronado. Nice guy but not cut out to be career. Duncan had served his time; the guy had served his enlistment contract and gone civilian, working in IT.
    "Duncan? What's up?"
    Another brief pause and Duncan said, "Got it," apparently to someone he was with and then, "I'm on Mount Palomar and I need help."
    Tanner turned to the desk, hit the speaker on his phone, touched the computer to wake it and brought up Palomar, Cleveland National Forest, ranger stations.
    And a current alert.
    Duncan was just starting to speak when Tanner said, "Are you in the fire zone?"
    Relief flooded Duncan's voice. "Not yet. But it's coming our way and moving fast."
    "Rangers?"
    "On it. That's the problem. I'm here with a group and one girl got separated before the fire had gone out of control. We can't find her and she's not responding to calls. My phone's working, but reception's not great and we're several hours up the trail – not close to ranger stations."
    Tanner's training kicked in instantly. The next few minutes he got all the information he could from Duncan, pinpointed where he thought the call would be coming from, poured over maps on the screen, asked about the girl, asked that all the contact numbers be texted to his cell, and fought the running shirt back off. He'd need to change, grab his fire retardant jacket and pants, get the chopper. If he pushed it, including prep time, he could be there in about 35 minutes.
    He gave Duncan the only instructions he could think of – to get his party out if the fire changed course and came at them, to keep calling for the girl, to call him if they found her, to keep in contact.
    None of it meant anything. It was to stop them panicking and maybe keep them safe by stopping them running about in a panic. The chopper could move fast. It couldn't move that fast. He was more than 60 miles away from them.
    Tanner changed, gathered his gear, did a systems check on a helicopter he knew was ready, texted everybody on the team, and cleared for takeoff.

    T he sky was bright when the chopper got up into it. Tanner checked his settings, radioed his path and took off. Air traffic over San Diego was normal weekend heavy. By