Chapter 1

James "Sharp" Douglas hated crowds. There were too many variables, and this chaos seemed over the top. Trains were delayed because of the snow, and everyone seemed to be feeling it. The raucous London crowd flowed around him, barely giving him room.

His gaze strayed from the group of teenagers on his right over to the old men on his left. He couldn't trust either of them, nor the thousands of other hopeful passengers crowded into the space.

After spending six weeks in Russia digging into things they would believe he had no business looking into, his senses were heightened. Anyone here in this train station could have followed him across Europe. He'd been careful and mostly flown under the radar since leaving Russia, but he had to stay vigilant.

His stomach tightened. The pressure inside this place built every minute they didn't put up information about the platforms the trains were leaving from. This crowd was going to explode when the delays turned into cancelations. He should find another way out of the city, but he was stuck. He should have left last night. Taking a car in this weather was out of the question. Pileups had closed all the major roads, leaving nightmarish delays. The worst storm of this decade was bearing down on England, ruining everyone's plans.

This wasn't his usual gig as a SEAL, but things were changing. Wars were being fought differently, and when the terrible blast ended most of his team, he'd been tagged to use some of his unique skills and go solo for a while. Sharp had welcomed the challenge.

Since he had a knack for social engineering and computers, the brass trusted him to dig like no one else and find out information the military needed. Luckily, he spoke six languages, three of them well enough to pass as a local. He'd spent the last few months in Russia gathering information he hoped would make a difference in the fight to save the USA.

A loud commotion sounded right next to him, and suddenly a woman fell at his feet. Before he even moved, he calculated if this was a setup. Had someone pegged him as a SEAL—an American? Maybe they knew he'd spent the last few months spying on Russia?

He looked like most of the other guys standing around waiting for the train, maybe just a little bigger, but with the sweatshirt and loose jeans he wore, he looked normal, though everything about him was far from normal.

Today, he was taking the train south to a base where he would pick up a ride with the British Royal Navy that would hook him up with the US Navy. It was all very hush-hush, engineered to get him out of England without him using his real name.

The woman lying at his feet appeared way too inept to be a ruse or a part of an attack. Instead, it looked like she was just clumsy as heck. She glanced up, and their gazes met. Her green eyes drew him in, making him feel like she could see straight through to his soul.

Once before, he'd seen eyes like that—Danika Herff—but that had been a continent away, and so many years ago that he shouldn't remember her, but he did. Those eyes still haunted his dreams. She had never put up with his bullshit. As a teenager, he'd been dumb and full of cum. He had so much bullshit surrounding him it was disgusting. Now, after years of growing up, he was different.

He bent, helping her gather her things. "Are you okay, Miss?"

Her head whipped up and her nose wrinkled. "Oh great, you're American." Her words weren't said with sincerity, instead they were dripping with sarcasm so thick he froze for just a moment.

After a few seconds spent recovering, he shot her an accusing look. "So are you." His lips quirked up at her spunk. She had just fallen in front of him, and instead of being embarrassed, she kept her chin up and her tongue sharp.

"Just what I need, another smart-ass—" her eyes traveled up and down his body, "—jock."

"Here, let's get you on your feet." Sharp pulled her to standing and glanced down, seeing blood spreading on her white tights. "Oh, you're injured."

Her eyes rolled as disgust flitted across her face. "Great. Just want I need."

"I think there's a first aid station around here somewhere."

She huffed out a breath. "I don't have time. I have to get on this train. If I don't…" She trailed off, and her eyes went glassy.

He didn't need to get involved. This wasn't his monkey, nor his circus. She was just some stranger he'd helped stand after falling. She was beautiful. How he imagined Danika would grow up to look. But there was no way this woman in England could be anyone he knew—though her eyes reminded him so much of Danika, it was frightening.

The intercom crackled, and a garbled announcement sounded over the speakers. Too many people were talking for the announcement to come through clearly. He caught a few words, but then the board with the information for the trains flickered, and the status of every train changed to canceled.

"Shit," he cursed as his plans went to hell. It would be another night spent in a hotel on foreign shores. Going home would have to wait—not that he had anyone sitting at home waiting for him. At least the hotel had a good breakfast, and he could get a beer in the lounge downstairs and maybe get some sleep. He'd spent his time in Russia sleeping with one eye open, just waiting for someone to figure out he wasn't who he was pretending to be. Hiding in London at least let him relax a little. Americans traveled here all the time, so he fit in perfectly.

"Oh shoot," the woman said. "What the fuck am I going to do now?"

"The hotel I was at should have a few open rooms. Want to trek over and see?" Why the hell had he asked her that? Jesus, he was being an idiot.

She stuck out her lower lip and exhaled, causing her bangs to flutter. "Ugh. I need to get the hell out of here." She glanced around, her lips turning down in a frown. "But I guess I'm not headed out anytime soon."

Sharp noticed people on their phones, and he heard someone arranging a hotel room. He needed a place to stay, so he pulled out the phone he'd picked up when he arrived in London and dialed the number for the hotel where he'd been the night before. Thankfully, Monica, the woman he'd talked to at the front desk right before he left, answered immediately. "Hello Monica, it's Mr. Johnson. I just checked out. Looks like we're stuck here for a while. Could I get two rooms?"

"Oh my, let me look. As you can imagine, we've been slammed."

His stomach twisted as he stared down at the woman he'd just told to stay at the hotel where he was staying. She glanced up, and her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Had he been wrong about her intentions? Was she a secret operative? Had the Russians found out about him?

"Mr. Johnson, I can get you in one room with two beds. That's all I have left."

Shit . He couldn't share a room with a stranger. He would find another hotel for her to stay at. "Sure, I'll take the room."

"Awesome. I'll hold it for you, and you can give me your credit card information when you get here."

"Thank you, Monica. I'm walking back from the station now. You're amazing. I really appreciate it."

"Be careful on the walk back. A car crashed out in front of the hotel. It's very slippery."

"Thank you, I will be careful."

He ended the call, then smiled down at the woman who'd fallen at his feet moments earlier. "Okay, we'll head to the hotel. They only have one room, but we'll see if we can find you a room somewhere else. In the meantime, you can get cleaned up and take care of that cut."

The woman narrowed her eyes and stared at him. "You're expecting me to stay in a room with you, a stranger?"

He held up both hands. "No, you can sit in the lobby and make calls from there. I don't expect you to be in the same room as me. "

Her lips thinned, and he could tell she was about to tell him off when someone ran right into her, knocking her against him. Her hands clutched at his sweatshirt, her face plastered against his chest. He reached for her, hoping she didn't go down again.

"Sorry," the man called behind him as he took off toward the exit.

"Shit!" She straightened and pushed off him. After brushing her hands over her coat front, she thinned her lips and met his gaze. The way she looked at him was more like she was studying him. "Fine, I'll go with you to the hotel. But I'm not going to a hotel room with a stranger."

"I'm James. Now you know my name, so we're not strangers."

"Ha ha. Too funny. I had a boyfriend named James a long time ago. He would have said something like that." Her lips turned down in a frown, and a worried look crossed over her face. "Never showed his face in town again after…."

His stomach pitched and his head spun. There was no way possible this could be Danika. But those eyes, and then the mention of him never showing his face again, it sounded familiar.

Back then, his family had been awful. He'd gotten into a fight with his dad. Of course, his father had humiliated him to the point he couldn't stay. The man had strung him up against the flagpole at city hall and stripped off his pants and underwear before beating him with a belt. That night, Sharp packed his things and took off, not even graduating from high school. He'd never looked back. Instead, he'd joined the military, changed his life, his trajectory, and become someone he could be proud of.

Heat washed over him, and the world around them seemed to still. "What's your name? "

The woman glanced up and focused on him, her lips tilting up a little. "Danika, pleased to meet you."

Panic washed over him. "What the fuck?" The words flew from his mouth before he could stop himself.

Danika narrowed her eyes, her lips turning down as she studied him. "What?"

"Danika Herff. How the hell did you find me here in London?"

Her hands flew to her face as tears gathered in her eyes. No question, this really was Danika from his past. What were the odds of running into her in England in a train station while they were both stranded in the middle of a terrible snowstorm?

"Oh, fuck," Danika said. "James? James Douglas?"

He couldn't stop himself from pulling her into his arms and holding on. Her scent, raspberries and maybe vanilla, wafted around her, and memories that were long dead raced through his mind. Emotions he'd buried rose. This wasn't like him, but he never ran into ghosts from his past.

He pushed her to arm's length, marveling at the fact that the girl he'd dated in high school was here in London. And by some weird happenstance he'd run into her on the one day that weather shut down the trains, leaving him stranded. If the weather had behaved, he never would have seen her.

His stomach tightened. This could get very complicated. He wasn't here in England under his real name, and he couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't have her revealing his real name to anyone. Not that he really thought he was being followed. He'd been super careful when he'd left Russia and traveled to England.

His hair had been brown for the mission, and now it was back closer to his original blond. He'd worn glasses and shaved daily while he'd been on assignment. Now he looked scraggly, and the glasses were gone. But Danika couldn't know any of that. He had a carefully crafted story that would hold up as long as he didn't fuck it up. Seeing this woman who he'd known a lifetime ago could ruin everything if he wasn't careful.