Her Fierce SEAL: Midnight Delta Book 6

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “Let’s get you inside. Remember I’ll be back at one o’clock.” She laughed.

  “Okay, one o’clock, you pushy man.”

  ***

  Before he went back to the searches on Ukrainian generals, Finn decided to go on a desperately needed run. He hadn’t been on one since Angie had started staying with him. His habit of early morning runs had gotten him through a lot. Besides the burn, it helped him to zone out, and eventually, it focused his thinking. The last three mornings, he had felt cloudy. And needy. And achy. And horny.

  He desperately needed to run. So he upped his normal fifteen mile run to twenty miles.

  Angie. Clint. Dasha. He still remembered Lou Donatelli’s calming voice after the episode in the park. He’d googled the man. He had been promoted to a lieutenant in the Marines while serving in Vietnam. Having him say there was no shame in freaking out had helped.

  Still, it had taken until mile seventeen before he managed to clean out all of the shit and focus on what was important—Angie’s health. Then he went through another mile kicking his ass for taking her through the parking garage. The last two miles he replayed the kiss and the promise in her eyes.

  Yep, Ms. Donatelli was definitely healing. She had worn strawberry lip gloss. Maybe it was time to make dinner for her. He was mulling over potential menus as he reached the parking lot of the apartment complex. Declan was leaning against his El Camino. At least, there was a pink bakery box at his feet.

  “You didn’t just let yourself in?” Finn commented as he jogged up to him.

  “It seemed rude,” Declan said.

  “That’s never stopped you in the past.”

  “Angie might have left her underthings drying in the kitchen. I didn’t want my sensibilities upset.” Declan bent down and picked up the box and held it out to Finn. “I came bearing gifts.”

  “Maple bars?”

  “I’d be a pretty crap friend if they weren’t.”

  “Okay, you can come in.” Finn headed towards his apartment, certain Declan would follow him. When he let himself in, he headed towards the kitchen and plugged in the coffee maker.

  “For God’s sake, let me make the coffee. Go shower. You stink.”

  He eyed Declan. “Gotten kind of picky, haven’t you?” he asked his childhood friend.

  The man raised an eyebrow and pushed him out of the way of the coffee maker. It was nice some things didn’t change. Even after saying shitty things to him, and pulling a knife on him, they were solid.

  He spent a couple of extra minutes in the shower because it smelled like strawberries thanks to Angie’s bath products. God, he had it bad. But he drew the line at actually using her shampoo. By the time he was dressed and in the kitchen, he smelled the divine scent of coffee. The pastries were set out on plates beside the coffee mugs on the table.

  “What, no doilies?”

  “You’re a fucking sailor. You’re lucky I gave you a plate.”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “S.E.A.L. It stands for Sea, Air and Land, you pasty faced MIC asshole.”

  “That’d be Military Intelligence Corp. Intelligence. You should be appreciative of this, considering I come bearing gifts.” Declan grinned.

  “You got my message. You have something on the general?” Finn grinned.

  “Wait just a damned minute. Did I just see the surly sailor smile?”

  “SEAL.”

  “I’ll call you whatever you want me to, as long as I see you smile again. Does this have something to do with the pretty Angie Donatelli? If yes, I so have to meet her.”

  “Let’s just stick to business.” Finn picked up his doughnut and took a bite.

  “It is because of Angie.”

  “Cut the shit, McAllister. I want to focus on your findings. We have a shit storm brewing.”

  Declan sat across from Finn and picked up his mug of coffee. “I’ll say you do. Vlad Lutsenko is as bad as it gets.”

  Finn snorted. He’d seen the bad, badder, and baddest.

  “I know, I know. Bad comes in so many crappy flavors these days. But this guy has been under investigation for war crimes. He is bad news. He has been turning Odessa upside down looking for Dasha Koval. He knows she’s in the states, and all Embassy business has been focused on one goal—to find her.”

  “She doesn’t deserve this.”

  “Who does?”

  Finn pictured Dasha in the park. Her eyes filled with tears as she described those hours she’d had with her daughter. He thought of her in his apartment explaining about Uri, and how she had escaped the Ukraine just to fall into the arms of the predators here in America.

  He took another sip of coffee, and it hit him wrong. A ball of fire punched through his gut. He needed some milk to soothe away the heat. He lurched up and slammed open the refrigerator to get the carton. He pushed through the contents, intent on the milk when his arm hit the bottle of hot sauce, and it knocked over.

  Everything stopped. Not one second elapsed. Not one mote of dust floated by. Not one breath of air escaped his lungs.

  A small curious part of his brain was operating. Where had that bottle come from? Oh yeah, someone had stocked the fridge before he arrived, and he’d never seen it before. Oh look, it’s rolling. But that observer voice was very faint, and far away.

  The bottle of hot sauce rolled off the shelf and crashed to the floor, his ears heard the plastic bounce, but his eyes saw glass shatter and red liquid cover the floor. It looked like blood. He couldn’t look away from the imaginary spread of blood as it pooled on the kitchen floor.

  Finn gulped hard, trying not to throw up. The taste of cayenne peppers filled his mouth. Was a girl whimpering for mercy?

  Dammit! No! He was in his kitchen.

  “Finn? Can you hear me?”

  He jumped at the hand on his shoulder. He heard the whimper again and realized it was him.

  “Give me a minute.” He closed his eyes tight and then opened them again. He looked down and saw the plastic bottle of hot sauce laying on its side on the kitchen floor. But damn, the carton of milk had fallen over and spilled.

  “Sit down, buddy.” Declan’s emerald eyes were bright with compassion. “Come on, just sit down for a second.” Declan maneuvered Finn into the kitchen chair where he’d been sitting.

  Finn pushed the heel of his hand into his right eye.

  “You did well. You kept it together.” Declan’s voice was soothing. What the fuck was up with that?

  “I don’t need to be played. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

  “I’m not. I’m talking to you like you’re my friend. I’m talking to you like you talked to me four years ago. Remember?”

  Well, that put him in his place, now didn’t it?

  Declan stepped over the mess on the floor and snagged another container of milk from the fridge and poured Finn a glass.

  “Drink your milk, and tell me how you managed to process your way out of that so fast.” Finn took the glass.

  “What? No cookies?” Finn was thankful he managed to sound like a sarcastic asshole.

  “I brought you fucking maple bars.” The man had a point. Finn turned and got another doughnut out of the box, took a big bite, and drank half of the glass of milk. Finally, the taste of cayenne pepper was washed away, and his stomach didn’t feel like a dragon trying to claw its way out of his guts. Now, if he could just fix it so the last five minutes could be erased, he’d be good.

  He threw down the rest of the doughnut and covered his twitching eye. Dammit, he needed to get his shit together. He really wanted Dec to think he had processed and was okay, instead of feeling like he was ready to fly apart again. When were things going to stop setting him off?

  He watched Declan’s slow movements as he sopped up every drop of milk off the floor with paper towels. It seemed to be taking him for-fucking-ever. Then Finn finally realized Dec was giving him time to get himself together. Which just made his eye twitch even faster.

  “Get up off the floor. I�
�m fine.”

  “The last thing you need is the smell of sour milk mutating from underneath the kitchen counters.” Declan went over to the sink and wet some towels, and then swiped them around the perimeter of the floor. He then threw them away and washed his hands before coming back to the table.

  “Any doughnuts left?” Declan asked.

  “One,” Finn answered. “But you can’t have it. Crazy boy gets the last doughnut.”

  “Doesn’t work in this case,” Declan said as he opened the box and grabbed the maple bar and took a bite. “You’re only fucked in the head and not really crazy, so the rule doesn’t apply.”

  Finn’s gut unclenched. Granted he still wasn’t feeling all that great, but the knots he’d been tied up in for the last few months, loosened. But then his thoughts began to swirl angrily.

  Dec thought he was fucked in the head, did he? Well, he knew up close and personal, just what a batshit fucked-up son-of-a-bitch Declan McAllister was. How dare Dec try to pass judgement on him? How dare he?

  “Finn stay with me.”

  Declan was gripping his shoulders. Finn saw the fierce gleam of determination in his friend’s eyes.

  “I’m right here. I’m fine,” Finn said through gritted teeth.

  “Don’t say another word. One more lie comes out of your mouth, then I’ll be forced to knock you on your ass.”

  “Give it your best shot Army.”

  “I told you, I came here on a mission of mercy, seems like bad form to hit a man while he’s down.”

  A half cough, half laugh wheezed out of Finn’s mouth.

  “Excuse me? Did I just hear you laugh?”

  “Even on your best day, and my worst, you couldn’t take me. Not even as a kid.” Back then it had been close, damn close, but Finn had always won. Then Finn had gone through BUD/S, and Declan had been toast ever since.

  “I think today is finally that day, Swabbie. Now tell me what the fuck is really going on. Tell me why you haven’t gone to see a shrink, you’re smarter than this. You went to one when your Granddad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”

  “That was different. I did it to convince Mom it was okay to go.” Finn squeezed his eyes shut. “The base counselor was kind and good at her job, but I’m sure as hell not telling her my sins.”

  “Interesting word.”

  “Fuck you, McAllister.”

  Finn got up and pulled the dishes off the table and slammed them in the sink. “You weren’t there. Nobody but me, those fucking ‘dead men walking’ and the girls that I couldn’t protect.”

  “Seems to me they’re alive today,” Declan pointed out quietly.

  Finn gripped the corner of the counter. He wasn’t having a flashback, it was a clear-as-a-bell memory. He saw Penelope in the corner of the farmhouse kitchen puking her guts up with the other girls huddled around her. Howard and Mike standing there laughing. He wiped the sweat from his brow. His breathing was shallow, but then he took three deep breaths and got himself back under control. Control being his watchword.

  “They might be alive, but they’re scarred.”

  “Have you even bothered to look at their files?”

  “I don’t need to. I was there.”

  “I’m talking about now. Have you looked into their records since they’ve gone home or assimilated to the US?”

  Finn turned around to look at his friend who was standing in the middle of the kitchen. Dec’s hair was in disarray from where he had been raking his fingers through it, a sure sign he was upset.

  “What do you know about the girls?”

  “Apparently, more than you do. Hell Finn, the girl you’re so worried about, is in San Antonio.”

  “Who?”

  “Penelope.” Yep, Declan knew. Finn hadn’t been sure which girl Declan was talking about. Even though nowhere on any of the records was there any mention of Liliya, the girl who had offered to go down on him so that she could escape. The only mention in the reports had been of Penelope, who he’d held down so others could force hot sauce down her throat. Still, this was Declan McAllister. He probably knew the last time the Russian president took a dump.

  “Finn, who did you think I meant?”

  “I worry about all of the girls from the farmhouse,” Finn covered. Declan gave him a considering glance.

  “Penelope is with Grace Preston in San Antonio. She took in three of the displaced girls.” If he’d bothered to pay attention for the last month, he would have known that. Now he had to admit that he had been keeping all of this information at arms-length.

  “Who else?”

  “I can’t believe how far deeply your head has been buried in the sand.” Declan rolled his shoulders and walked over to the table and sat down. “Please give me credit for saying sand and not ass.” Finn glared at Declan, who just shrugged.

  “Are they doing okay?” Finn wished he could have sounded less concerned.

  “For God’s sake, Finn, if you were that worried, you should have asked Clint the other night on the phone.” He went and sat back down at the table next to Declan.

  “Clint and I were discussing other things, so tell me about the girls from the farmhouse.”

  “Rylie and Lydia have been working on matching up the missing babies and their mothers, while Sophia and Beth have coordinated finding places for the girls who can’t go back to their original homes.”

  “So Beth arranged for three girls to go to San Antonio, to Jack’s parent’s ranch?” Finn asked.

  “Exactly. Those girls from the farmhouse are doing well. I promise you. I don’t know their names. You know that Sophia and Beth are doing what they can for them. Those women are a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Yeah they are,” he agreed. They looked across the table at one another. “So just how much do you know about Midnight Delta?” Finn asked.

  “I basically gave the unit a colonoscopy.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. “So you unearthed all of our shit.”

  “Thank God, your sense of humor is coming back, I thought we would need to do a medical transplant or some such shit. But you still need help,” Declan said the last words gently.

  “I know. I just need a little more space. You of all people should understand that. I gave it to you when you needed it.”

  “Only because you couldn’t find me,” Declan said as he kicked back his chair.

  Finn raised his eyebrow. “Believe what you need to believe, McAllister.”

  “Okay, I’ll back off...for now. Aren’t you supposed to call you mother today?”

  Goddamit, was there some kind of GPS listening device stuck up his ass, Finn wondered.

  “I’m supposed to call her tomorrow. But, yeah, I’m going to call her today. I miss her and Rebecca. Now that you’ve eaten all of my maple bars get the hell out of my apartment.”

  “I’ll be back,” Declan said as he got up and headed for the door.

  “Never doubted it,” Finn muttered. He picked up his phone and dialed his mom’s number as he watched the door close behind Declan.

  ***

  Declan drove towards the airport. He figured he would book a flight when he got there. He hadn’t been sure how long this visit with Finn would take. He’d packed a bag in case he needed to spend a couple of nights, even if he would have been stuck on the couch. As far as Declan was concerned, Finn was family, and you did whatever was necessary to take care of your family when they were in trouble.

  Finn had always been stoic in the past. He endured a lot and had been a rock. Declan remembered when Ginger had lost the baby. Finn had convinced himself it was his fault she’d gotten drunk for the umpteenth time, slipped, fell, and miscarried. Even though he had done everything possible to support her and get her the help, she needed to stop drinking. To this day he still thought he was to blame for her actions. Taking the blame for things was Finn’s M.O. It was obvious he was feeling just as guilty for the horror at the farmhouse, when in actuality he had saved that girl. But of cou
rse, his friend would never see it that way.

  Declan knew what was going on with Finn. It was like seeing a mirror image of himself from four years ago. Finn had tamped down his emotions so deep that they were bubbling up like magma from a volcano. Throw in all of the missions he’d been on over the years and the recent combat injury of his lieutenant and ‘bam’, there he was.

  That flashback Finn had at the apartment had been intense. It had him breaking out into a sweat, remembering some of his own. Declan winced thinking about the last assignment he worked for Military Intelligence. It hadn’t just blurred the lines between right and wrong, it had smashed them to bits. It had sent him reeling into a black hole that he might never have come out of if he hadn’t gotten a whole hell of a lot of love and support. That’s why he intended to be there for the man he considered his brother.

  He would continue to have eyes and ears on Finn. He’d be back. In the meantime, he was really worried and really happy about the stuff going on between Dasha and the general. Worried because Vlad was a scary bastard, and Declan guessed this could get really ugly, really quickly. He was happy because, at his core, Finn was a protector and a warrior. Having a mission to focus on was perfect to help heal Finn’s heart—at least temporarily. Declan still intended to get him into therapy and at least one ‘share circle’ with sex being optional.

  Declan’s phone vibrated for the forty-seventh time. He knew Brannon had things under control so he could ignore it. He’d check his messages when he got to the airport. He was itching to get back to Paraguay. He and his team were on the cusp of making real headway, and considering how utterly wretched the conditions were, he was thrilled.

  Before his visit with Finn, Declan had been debating whether to call Mason Gault. Then he realized he didn’t have to because Finn had reached out to Clint Archer. He wondered if Midnight Delta had gone soft or stupid when they let Finn leave until he had heard the conversation between Finn and Clint. It was obvious the SEALs had respected Finn’s request for distance and had given him the space he desired. They probably would say it was unethical that he had listened to Finn’s conversation. Well, he hadn’t gone soft or stupid, he would push a whole slew of boundaries to make sure the people he loved were safe.