Wet N Wild Navy SEALs

by Tawny Weber

  Tabitha stepped in and he turned. “Close the door.”

  Towel around her neck, sober expression on her face, she did. She circled him, keeping her back to the wall and her eyes on him.

  “I want to see that tattoo.” He stood in the center of the room with his arms folded. “Why the sudden shyness? You already showed half the Navy and the Marine Corps.”

  “I did not!”

  He took one step, two steps toward her.

  “You want to see it, fine!” She turned her back on him.

  He moved close in behind her. “Don’t,” he said, putting his arms around her to still her hands on the zipper of her jeans. “I just want to talk.” He swallowed the lie; his body had something else in mind. Warmth from their body heat seeped through the wetness of their clothes. Did she still want him too? “Put on something dry so you’re comfortable.”

  He let her go then turned around.

  Tabby opened her locker and hid behind the door to put on a dry T-shirt. The whole thing seemed kind of awkward and sad for two people who were married. He was right. It was time to talk.

  She didn’t bother with more than a T-shirt and panties. He’d said comfortable and it was after lights-out. She switched on the bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light. She sat on her rack and invited Marc to sit beside her.

  He sat down on the edge looking uncomfortable and wet. He didn’t have much to say now that he had her attention. There’d been no private moments in the past six weeks. The communication gap had widened to a chasm neither of them seemed capable of crossing.

  He just sat there looking sad and she wanted to reach out and touch him. She still loved him but love didn’t seem to have much to do with making a marriage work.

  “I didn’t think you’d make it this far.” He was the first to break the silence.

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “You proved you could. There’s no shame in quit—”

  “Marc, don’t start. I’m not going to quit. You’re afraid I’m going to succeed, aren’t you?”

  “Damn straight. I’m afraid for you, Tabitha. I wish you could see that.”

  “What about my fears? Are those any less real? You won’t always be an instructor. In a few years you’ll be back with a Team.” She wished her head didn’t feel so thick from all the alcohol.

  “You knew what you were getting into. You had to. Your father—”

  “You knew, too. You didn’t want a dutiful and complacent bride, remember? You wanted me. I wasn’t aware that came with a ‘no SEAL’ clause. We can’t be together until you accept who I really am.”

  “I can’t,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Accepting that goes against everything I am.”

  She hugged a pillow to her. “Why is it asking so much for you to believe in me?” The way I believe in you.

  “What about you? You were just looking for someone like your father.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  “Crazy? I have the man’s job! His same welcome speech. Hell, I even have blue eyes.” He paced the room. He couldn’t help making the comparison after having spent some time with the man.

  “You are so wrong!” She threw the pillow at him.

  He knocked it aside. “I’m not so sure. But I can tell you that I don’t want to be somebody’s surrogate daddy.”

  “Well, you definitely went out of your way to make sure you’d never be a father, didn’t you?” The spiteful words just came out. She didn’t really mean them.

  He paled beneath his tan. “I would have had the vasectomy reversed for you.” Would have.

  She desperately wanted to take back the words but doubted she’d ever have the chance.

  Chapter 24

  1100 Tuesday

  San Clemente Island, CA

  After Tabby completed the nine weeks of Phase One, she moved on to Phase Two, diving. A natural in the water, she found the seven weeks to be as fun as they were challenging. She grew closer to her swim buddy. And further from her husband.

  Phase Three started with four weeks of land warfare. In the fifth week they moved to San Clemente Island for five weeks to run mission scenarios in preparation for the real thing.

  Tabby was less than two weeks from completing the course, and Marc still hadn’t accepted the fact that she’d make it. She stood at parade rest while he glared at her over the heads of the other trainees.

  “Listen up!” he said. “We’re leaving here today to finish up our training with a live recovery op.” Excitement buzzed through the ranks.

  “There’s been a plane crash in Louisiana. No survivors. They need experienced divers, spotters and sharpshooters to recover bodies. This is not a pretty job. This is our job.”

  Tabby closed her eyes and lowered her head, saying a silent prayer for the passengers and crew. “As trainees none of you will be diving. These are alligator-infested waters with zero visibility. It’s too dangerous and you don’t have the experience. You will, however, be shooters with real bullets. Your job is to shoot alligators. Not each other.” Nervous laughter escaped from the trainees.

  “I think that’s all I need to say on that subject. You’ll be given your warning orders. Go get your gear. We leave within the hour!”

  After the ride in a C-130 cargo plane, the trainees and the instructors boated into a bayou, where they were to meet up with Team One. At their campsite, Marc offered Tabby a hand out of the boat. She thought about ignoring it, since he hadn’t extended the same courtesy to any of the others. But it had been so long since she’d even touched him. Her hand slipped into his and she squeezed as she found her foothold.

  He let go abruptly. “There are no ladies’ rooms here. Not even outhouses. Do you have a problem with that?” His tone told her he hoped she did. And that he didn’t care.

  “No, sir.”

  He turned to the men. “Stow your gear. We’ll be relieving Team One ASAP.” He indicated two large canvas tents lined with cots.

  Tabby threw her gear over her shoulder.

  “You’ll be in the command tent. With the COs and XOs. Is that a problem?”

  She didn’t like being singled out for special treatment. “Maybe I should go with the rest of the men—”

  “You’re not sleeping with the men. And that’s final!”

  Heads turned at his raised voice. She held back a retort, knowing it was inappropriate to question his authority. She followed him to a smaller tent. Several interior flaps divided the tent down the middle. Four cots on one side. Two on the other.

  Tabby stood in the four cot half, waiting for instructions. There were a couple of folding chairs, tables and lamps. Luxuries.

  Marc headed for the side with two cots and put his gear under one of them. It was the closest they’d come to sleeping together since SEAL training had begun twenty-three weeks ago. She felt a blush heat her cheeks and stole a glance at her husband’s back.

  Twenty-three weeks. Almost half a year as man and wife with no physical contact.

  “Muster outside,” he ordered.

  The rest of their first day at camp was spent in biohazard suits, tagging bloody pieces sometimes identifiable as body parts and zipping them into body bags.

  Afterward, Tabby refused her sea rations, deciding to brave the dangers they’d been warned about to find a semiprivate place to throw up the only meal she’d had all day.

  She made her way back to the tent just as the sun dropped from the sky in a red-orange blaze of glory. The muggy heat remained and she spotted her washcloth with a few precious drops from her canteen. Sitting down on her cot, she wiped her neck and face.

  Sensing rather than hearing him, Tabby looked up to find Marc staring at her.

  Without stepping inside their shared space, he tossed her a can of peaches. “You’ll be hungry later.”

  “Thanks,” she said, but he was already gone.

  Tabby curled up on the cot and promptly fell asleep. A while later she awoke to soft male voices coming from the othe
r side of the flap. She identified the timbre of Marc’s laughter as he responded to something Brad said and felt strangely comforted. They weren’t talking about anything particularly interesting, but she lay in the dark listening, fading in and out of wakefulness.

  “Make a wish,” her mother said.

  “I wish Dad was here.”

  “He would be if he could.”

  Tabby closed her eyes tight, wishing with all her might that her daddy would come home for her twelfth birthday.

  “The Rockies are too young. I don’t see them as a contender...”

  Navy SEAL dads had a special job that took them places little girls weren’t allowed.

  “Walker’s got the Gold Glove this year for sure...”

  “Daddy!” She woke to find him standing over her bed.

  “I was just leaving this.” He took a new baseball glove from behind his back.

  “I wished you home for my birthday.”

  “And here I am. Can’t disappoint my little girl.”

  “Is it a scary place?”

  He didn’t answer for a long time. “The only thing I’m afraid of is losing my family.”

  “I won’t let us get lost, Daddy.”

  He chuckled and pulled her into his strong arms.

  “I know you won’t.”

  “Did you see Dipoto pull that game out in the ninth against the Cards...”

  The place Daddy went wasn’t scary. The job was hard. But there were other daddies, and they talked baseball.

  “I’m going to be a Navy SEAL when I grow up.”

  “Girls can’t be SEALs. Under the covers now, and back to sleep.”

  “Good night, Tabitha. I love you,” he said before kissing her forehead.

  “Good night, Marc,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”

  In black fatigues, wielding a Heckler & Koch MP5 fully-automatic, Tabby stood on one wing of the downed plane, Armstrong on the other. The rest of the trainees manned the fuselage and various other pieces of wreckage. Every so often someone would shoot a couple of rounds when an alligator moved toward a diver.

  If anybody kept score it was Navy SEALs six, gators zip. But the other team looked hungry.

  Marc was one of the divers searching for the black box. Tabby had never felt so anxious as she did standing on the broken wing of the military craft. Each time he disappeared into the murky depths of the swamp, she’d catch herself holding her breath until he reappeared.

  There were too many unresolved issues between them to lose him now. His diving experience gave her little reassurance when compared to the danger surrounding him. As a trainee it was her job to eliminate any threats to his safety. She watched a couple of alligators, then noticed a particularly large one zeroing in on a diver.

  Marc!

  She aimed. Fired. Then fired again. She was sure she’d hit her target both times, but the reptile was still heading his way.

  Around her, men shouted warnings and fired more rounds. Tabby heard it all as if from a great distance; all five of her senses were focused on Marc.

  Then man and alligator disappeared. Blood tinged the water. Other divers swam toward the spot they’d gone under. She held back the scream bubbling up inside her and tried to recall what she knew about alligators. Didn’t they drag their prey to the bottom to drown them?

  How long had it been? A few seconds? Minutes?

  A lifetime.

  “Marc!” Shoving Gummy aside, she unsheathed her Bowie knife, but Brad Bailey caught her around the waist before she could jump in. “Let me go!”

  “Tabby, he’s in gear. You’re not. Stay put and let the divers do their job.”

  She heard, but didn’t listen. As soon as he let go, she clamped her Bowie knife between her teeth and dove in without even checking for gators. She didn’t want to know the odds. All she wanted was to help Marc.

  Tabby surfaced a few feet away from where he’d gone under. A marker buoy bobbed to the surface, and Marc emerged a second after that. She sucked in big gulps of oxygen and would have thrown her arms around him, but he seemed less than receptive, as he pushed aside his goggles.

  He yanked out his mouthpiece. “Oh, that’s a really good look for you. Give me that.” He took the knife from her clenched teeth. “Out of the water, now!”

  The pontoon boat the divers used as a launchpad neared. Brad held out his hand and helped her in. Marc handed off the buoy and waited in the water while Brad hauled up the black box.

  With that task completed, Marc pulled himself into the boat. Removing his hood, he directed a reptilian glare at her.

  She wasted her efforts on the wrong creature.

  The boat pulled alongside shore. She leaped off and marched to the tent with Marc on her heels.

  “Lieutenant, your job is to provide cover. Not act like some Amazon queen! I had the situation under control.”

  “Oh, I could see that!” she said, dropping the tent flap in his face.

  He slapped it back and followed her inside to their twin bunks. “You hit him. I just had to wait for him to realize it!”

  “You’re welcome!” She untucked her wet shirt.

  “I’d thank you if I had any reason to. You left your divers uncovered,” he said as he unzipped his wetsuit.

  She turned her back on him and removed her shirt. “My divers were covered!”

  “By who?”

  She glared over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of his bare back. She averted her gaze. “Gummy.”

  “You and Gummy!” he muttered.

  “What about me and Gummy? Is that jealousy?” she demanded, unhooking her bra and throwing it on her bunk.

  “I am not jealous!”

  Tabby looked and found him staring at her. She quickly pulled on a dry T-shirt and green fatigue shorts over wet underwear, then ran from the tent and the hunger in her husband’s eyes.

  “I’m not through with you!” he shouted. Marc’s hands were still shaking as he tugged a T-shirt over his head and followed her. He couldn’t handle the thought of her being injured or killed in the line of duty. Especially if it happened because she was trying to save his sorry hide.

  He didn’t have to worry about not finding Tabitha. Every SEAL along the way pointed him in the right direction and he caught up with her in a matter of minutes.

  “Tabitha—”

  “Stay away from me,” she threatened, stomping through the underbrush, each boot step taking her farther away from base camp.

  He grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. “You’re going to find yourself in quicksand.”

  “Let go!” Anger flushed her cheeks.

  “Not until you listen. You could have been killed—”

  “It didn’t matter. I thought you were dead.”

  “What are you saying? That you give a damn about me?” He searched her eyes. She’d just tossed him a lifeline. It was the first indication in weeks that their marriage had a chance of surviving.

  “You smell like a swamp,” she said, trying to wrench her arm free.

  “You smell worse.” He pulled her to him.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “Why not? You need to come up with a reason or I’m going to kiss you. And then I’m—”

  She kicked him hard in the shin and broke free. “Damn it.” He caught her again. And this time held on to his struggling captive. “I’ve waited long enough to see that tattoo.”

  “You can just keep waiting. Because you’re not going to look at it.”

  “I sure as hell am!”

  “Try asking and not ordering for a change.”

  “You left me no choice when you chose instructor over husband.” Right now all he wanted was to be her husband. He had less than a week left as her instructor and he was afraid of being left with nothing. “I’m asking,” he whispered, letting go.

  She stopped fighting and showed him. “You said you wouldn’t pin me, so I did it myself.”

  Marc dropped to his knees at her feet. He traced
the eagle and their tags—Tiger and The Marquis— which were etched into a banner underneath. He pressed his lips to her skin.

  “Let me make love to you, Tiger.”

  Hell, since he was already on his knees, he might as well beg.

  Chapter 25

  0900 Friday

  NAVAL SPECIAL WARFARE CENTER

  Coronado, CA

  “Commander, do you have a minute?” Perry stood in the doorway.

  Marc slipped the postcard he’d been reading into his desk drawer and waved him in. “What’s up, Preach?”

  Perry entered the office and closed the door. “I thought you might want to see this.” He handed over a sheet of paper with a note attached. “The Senior Chief in Personnel wants to know when you can sign the entry in your service record.”

  Marc read the copy of Lieutenant Chapel’s Page Two documenting their marriage. “I’ll take care of it at lunch.” He dismissed Perry and pulled out the postcard again.

  Sorry I missed your call. Tabitha.

  Because Congress still considered her a test subject, she’d gone with the graduating class to Fort Bragg for the three weeks of paratrooper school that followed SEAL training even though she’d missed out on the actual graduation ceremony.

  With her usual bluntness she’d let him know what she thought of not being allowed to wear the Trident Insignia. It was a small enough victory for his side. She’d shown them all by being one of only a handful to make it through twenty-five weeks of the toughest training the Navy had to offer. Of course, the graduates couldn’t actually claim the Special Warfare designation until they’d completed six months of probation with a SEAL Team. And there was always the chance that a probationer could be blackballed.

  Tabitha definitely would be.

  He hadn’t wanted to train his wife to be a SEAL. And he sure as hell didn’t want her to be one. He couldn’t stand to think about the ugly things she’d have to see and do—the dangerous situations she’d be in.

  When they’d made love in Louisiana, he’d regretted his vasectomy for the first time. It wasn’t about Rell or anyone else. It was about wanting to give Tabitha a part of himself—to show her how much he loved her.