SEAL Next Door

by Paige Tyler

  Poppy nearly mentioned that she almost certainly had a higher security clearance than he did, but bit her tongue. That obviously wasn’t something she could get into right now—or ever for that matter. But the idea that the Navy could simply call Sam out of the blue and send him off to who knew where didn’t sit well with her.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about the SEAL thing earlier, but I was worried you’d bail on me without giving me chance,” Sam said, both his tone and expression conveying all kinds of anguish that hurt her to see. “But right now, I have to go. I don’t have a choice.”

  She wanted to ask him so many more questions, but then Sam was kissing the air from her lungs and the sense from her head.

  “I promise we’ll talk when I get back,” he said before disappearing into the house with Lane.

  Poppy stood there, transfixed by the sliding glass doors Sam had disappeared through, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened. But as good as she might be with math and all things logical, this moment escaped her. Sam was a Navy SEAL. Now, he was off to who knew where, probably doing something that could get him killed.

  It struck her then how much Sam had come to mean to her, and in such an incredibly short period of time, too. Something tugged at her heart, and she found herself wishing she’d said something to him about it. She told herself that she’d get the chance, that Sam would be fine. But then she started thinking about all the issues they’d have to deal with when he did come back. Yeah, the part where he’d lied about being a SEAL would be hard enough to handle, but how would he react when he figured out that she’d slept with one of his teammates? Or that his parents hated her?

  Melissa gave Dalton’s wife and daughter a hug, then the woman took the little girl’s hand and led her toward the sliding glass doors. Poppy supposed that meant they were leaving. The child, who’d been laughing and smiling a few minutes ago, now looked like all the life had been sucked out of her. Poor thing.

  Letting out a sigh, Poppy turned to leave, too.

  “Poppy, don’t go.”

  She turned to see Kyla standing there with a concerned look on her face. Over by the grill, Kurt was serving burgers and hot dogs to the rest of the guests who were still there, even if the tone of the party was more subdued now.

  “Stay, please,” Kyla added softly. “Having the guys take off like that is scary. Being with other wives and girlfriends can make it a little easier.”

  “Kyla’s right,” Hayley said, stopping on her way to the picnic table up on the deck, a plate of food in her hand. “Stay so we can talk.”

  Beside Hayley, Melissa surprised Poppy by nodding.

  Kyla gave her a smile. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”

  Poppy wasn’t very hungry, but she fell into step beside Kyla as the other woman headed for the grill. Melissa wouldn’t invite her to stay if she wanted to chew her out, right? Maybe she’d come out of this whole thing okay.

  “So,” Melissa said after Poppy and Kyla joined her and Hayley with their plates, “I’m guessing you really are a college professor and not a stripper?”

  Beside Poppy, Kyla gasped, her eyes wide as she looked back and forth between them. “Wait. What?”

  Melissa didn’t say anything, the questioning look she gave Poppy clearly saying she was genuinely interested in the answer. Even Hayley was regarding her curiously.

  Needing a minute, Poppy sipped the iced tea she’d traded the hard seltzer for. She never drank alcohol if she had to drive, but right now, she wouldn’t mind a little bit of liquid courage.

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “I got into a discussion with my best friend about men not being into smart women, and the next thing I know, I’m making a bet that I can snag the next attractive guy who walked into the club if I pretended to be an airhead stripper.”

  “And that guy was Dalton,” Hayley said.

  She nodded. “Yeah. Our relationship—if you could call it that—lasted a week.”

  Hayley sighed. “I wish I could say that surprises me, but I get the feeling that Dalton was like that. At least before Kimber and Emma.”

  “The woman and child you saw him with earlier,” Melissa supplied. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that Emma is his daughter and he married Kimber shortly after finding out.”

  Poppy didn’t know what to think about that, other than maybe Dalton had grown up drastically since she’d known him.

  “So, that whole performance you put on here at the cookout when you were here with Dalton was all an act?” Hayley asked.

  Poppy nodded, nibbling on a Dorito. “That’s the problem with pretending to be a ditz to land a guy. You’re forced to stick with the act. I couldn’t tell Dalton and after a few dates, everything fell apart and we went our separate ways.”

  Melissa considered that for a moment. “How did you meet my son?”

  Poppy couldn’t help smiling at the memory. “He moved into the apartment across the hall from mine and ended up dropping a box of his stuff while moving in. We ended up bonding over a Rubik’s Cube.”

  Melissa laughed. “I didn’t even know he still had that old thing.”

  “He has a lot of good memories about solving the puzzle with his dad,” Poppy said.

  “Sam told you about that, huh? He doesn’t share stuff like that with people he’s just met. I guess that means he’s really fallen for you.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” Poppy admitted, smiling again. “Though I have no idea why I’m telling you guys when I haven’t even told Sam yet.” Her smile faded and she gazed down at her plate. “I should have said something to him before he left.”

  Silence descended around the table. Poppy usually didn’t mind being left alone with her thoughts, but after everything that had happened today, she couldn’t stop her mind from heading in a dark direction.

  “Sam and the other guys are going to be okay,” Melissa suddenly said, interrupting Poppy’s downward mental spiral. “They’re well-trained and experienced. They’re going to get through the mission and cover each other’s backs, then come home to us safely. They’re SEALs. That’s what they do.”

  Poppy nodded, praying that was true. “It must be tough having to worry about your son being a SEAL after his dad retired from the Navy.”

  “It is.” Melissa grimaced. “I really thought I was done with all this worry and stress when I finally convinced Kurt to retire, but now I have to do it all over again with Sam.” She gave Poppy a small smile. “Except this time, it looks like I get to share my worries with you. And you get to share yours with me.”

  Logically, Poppy knew worry didn’t work that way, but right then, sitting at this table with three other women who were going through the same thing she was, she decided that maybe she was wrong. Having someone to share the burden did help.

  As they ate, they talked about being left behind while the guys went out on missions. It should have made Poppy more afraid for Sam, but instead, she found their support comforting at the same time.

  “Has anyone thought about how awkward this mission is going to be if Dalton and Sam realize they’ve both slept with Poppy?” Hayley asked, a concerned expression on her face. “You know, guys being guys and all?”

  Poppy cringed inwardly at the thought of Sam finding out about her and Dalton that way. The thought of how they’d behave toward each other during the mission hadn’t entered her mind at all—until now. “You don’t think they’d get into a fight, do you? They’re friends.”

  Hayley and Kyla didn’t say anything. Melissa, on the other hand, let out a snort of amusement. Or maybe derision. It was difficult to tell which.

  “They might be friends, but they’re also men who happen to possess a higher-than-normal amount of testosterone,” Melissa said. “Which means it’s almost a certainty they’ll get into a fight. It’s just a matter of whether it will be limited to words, or if fists will be involved.”

  Crap.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

>   Madura Island, located off the northeast coast of Java, was drastically larger than the postage stamp sized bit of sand that Kepulauan Nenusa had been, both in terms of real estate and population. Even so, Sam would never have guessed they were on an island of over three million people, not given the total silence enveloping this particular stretch of forest running along the northern edge of the place.

  The return trip to Indonesia had been as rushed and exhausting as the first time. Sam had tried to sleep throughout most of the fiftee- hour flight to Jakarta on the unmarked military aircraft they’d taken, but the ride had been rough and the roar from the engines loud enough to require hearing protection. There had been a mission briefing on the plane followed by a short trip via helicopter out to a frigate cruising the Java Sea where they’d gotten another briefing, and then a midnight boat ride to a deserted stretch of beach east of Sokabana.

  In theory, the Alatas brothers ran some kind of training camp near here. The theory also held that the brothers were either here now or would show up sometime soon to finalize plans for the procurement of the nuclear weapon from Colonel Kam and the North Korean contingent. The idea was that Sam and the other SEALs would sneak into the camp and hear something that would tell them where the North Koreans would be and when they would be there.

  Lucero and the CIA hadn’t been very forthcoming about where they were getting their intel on the Alatas brothers, and based on the number of times the words in theory, supposedly, and should be had been used during the briefings, Sam wasn’t too sure what he and his Teammates were going to run into out here in these woods. He only hoped this whole trip wasn’t a waste. One that had possibly messed up his relationship with Poppy.

  Movement ahead of him caught his attention and Sam looked up to see Dalton holding up a hand with a closed fist—standard military signal for all stop. He immediately dropped to one knee, swinging his NVGs to the right to scan his assigned sector, but there wasn’t anything there. Wes, Lane, Holden, Chasen, Nash, and Noah were all out there somewhere. They were simply too good to be seen.

  A few moments later, he heard Chasen on the radio, saying they’d reached the edges of the brothers’ compound.

  “Everyone hold tight while Nash and I scout out the perimeter to see what we’ve got,” Chasen added.

  The seconds turned into minutes, and with nothing to do but stare into the darkness at nothing, Sam found himself thinking about Poppy. No surprise there. He tended to think about her nearly every free moment of the day and night. And as he’d been doing a lot since the cookout gone wrong, he couldn’t help but replay every moment of what happened at his parents’ house.

  He’d expected for her to freak out when he told her he was a SEAL. Instead, she’d looked around the backyard like she’d seen a ghost. All he could think was that she’d been so devastated to learn he’d lied to her about being a SEAL that she’d completely shut down.

  That would certainly explain why she’d barely had a reaction when cell phones had started ringing. Sure, she’d been upset and asked the expected questions of who, where, and when, but he could tell from the distracted look on her face that she’d spoken those words purely on instinct. He doubted if she would have comprehended his answers even if he’d been able to give her any. It hurt like hell to think he’d hurt her so badly that her logical mind had stopped processing, but he couldn’t come up with any other explanation.

  When he heard the murmur of soft conversation, he realized Lane and Wes must have gotten bored waiting for Chasen to give them an update because both of them had moved from their positions in the Team’s scattered formation close enough to talk to Dalton.

  Sam took another look around to make sure they were alone, then moved forward to join his Teammates. They were a good quarter mile from the edge of the Alatas compound, so there was no reason to think they’d have security patrols out this far. Not without a known threat.

  He was still fifteen feet away when he heard Dalton murmur something to Lane and Wes. He didn’t catch all of it, but he was pretty sure the last part was, should I tell Sam about Poppy?

  “Tell me what?” he asked softly, making all three of his buddies stand up and snap around with weapons raised.

  Sam had to stop himself from instinctively lifting his own.

  “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on people?” Wes hissed, looking around like he thought someone might be eavesdropping on the conversation. “You could have gotten yourself shot.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking around,” Sam said, moving closer and looking at Dalton. “What could you possibly have to tell me about Poppy?”

  Everyone in the platoon knew that Dalton used to be a player. Before he’d reunited with Kimber, Dalton had hooked up with half the world’s female population. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but he dated a lot of women.

  Dalton stared at him through his NVGs, then looked away, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “Um…nothing. I was just saying how nice it was to finally meet Poppy.”

  The way Lane and Wes made a show of being interested in something in the surrounding darkness would have been comical if Sam didn’t know for a fact that Dalton was lying.

  “Dalton, if you have something to say about Poppy, just say it,” Sam ground out. “If not, keep your mouth shut.”

  His Teammate glanced at Lane and Wes, something passing between them that obviously had his buddies worried. After several more seconds of silence, Sam cursed under his breath. But before he could blow, Dalton finally spoke.

  “Yesterday isn’t the first time I’ve met Poppy,” his friend said, still not looking at Sam. “We knew each other before you came to Coronado.”

  “Okay,” Sam said. “So?”

  “So…” Dalton sighed. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you deserve to know. Poppy isn’t a math professor at some college. She’s a stripper.”

  Sam started to laugh, figuring his Teammates were still ragging on him about having a girlfriend, but then he realized Dalton was serious. He actually believed the crap he’d just said.

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Sam growled. “Poppy has a doctorate from UC Berkley. I’ve seen the degree mounted on the wall of her apartment, and I’ve driven her to work at the college several times, as well as seen her talking to her students.”

  Dalton shook his head. “Dude, she’s playing you.”

  “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?”

  “Dammit, Sam,” Dalton muttered. “I didn’t just know her before. I slept with her. I mean she didn’t even make me work for it. The minute she heard I was a SEAL, she was all over me. Dude, Poppy is a groupie.”

  Sam didn’t even realize he was moving until his right fist slammed into Dalton’s jaw. Then he was somehow on top of his friend, fists coming down over and over.

  Dalton might have been caught off guard at first, but then he quickly fought back, a knee coming up to smash into Sam’s ribs, a glancing blow from his fist catching him on the chin.

  Sam had no idea how long the fight lasted, but it got loud and covered a significant stretch of jungle. He knew that because Dalton tried to smash his head into a tree trunk while Sam did his best to strangle his buddy with a nearby vine.

  Everything was still a white-hot blur of anger when Sam felt heavy hands on his shoulders jerking him upright. Holden and Nash got a grip on Dalton, dragging him away from the scuffle. Sam lunged for him again, but Chasen yanked him back and gave him a rough shake.

  “Chill the hell out!” his chief warned. “I wish I didn’t know what this was all about, but unfortunately, I do. And guess what? I don’t give a shit. I don’t care what Dalton said. I don’t care how you took it. I don’t care about your hurt feelings or how insulted either of you might be.”

  Sam glared at Dalton, supremely satisfied to see that his Teammate was bleeding from a split lip and a cut above his left eyebrow. From the pain he was feeling along his own jaw, as well as the warm trickle traili
ng down his neck, Sam was pretty sure he wasn’t much better off.

  “You know what I do care about?” Chasen added, looking more pissed than Sam had ever seen him. “I care that we’re barely four hundred meters from the edge of a heavily guard terrorist training compound and you two are out here brawling like two idiots in a bar fight. We’re supposed to be finding out when these assholes are planning to buy a nuclear weapon so we can stop them, and you morons seem more interested in ghosting the rest of your Team and letting us get our asses killed.”

  Sam possessed at least enough maturity to feel embarrassed about his behavior, even if he still felt like punching Dalton.

  “I’m putting you two together for the rest of this op, so you both need to pull your shit together and wire it tight,” Chasen continued, the threat clear in his voice. “If you don’t and this thing goes sideways because of the two of you, I’ll effing leave the both of you on this island and you can swim your juvenile asses all the way back to the States.”

  Giving him and Dalton a hard look, Chasen turned and disappeared into the darkness. Sam glanced at Dalton to see that his Teammate was still just as pissed as he was. No one said a word as they followed Chasen toward the training compound.

  * * * * *

  The mission itself was almost anti-climactic after the fight in the jungle. Sam and the rest of his Team slipped into the fenced-in compound, easily making it past the four roving guards. They set up surveillance equipment on the main building as well as two other possible meeting locations, then they hid, Sam and Dalton squeezing under the flooring of one of the supply huts. The two of them were wedged in so close together that Sam could feel his Dalton’s body heat. Even though they were face to face, they didn’t say a word to each other. They simply couldn’t take the risk. If Sam got pissed off again and they started fighting, they’d be found out for sure.