Wet N Wild Navy SEALs

by Tawny Weber

  “What? Are you all right, Sophia?” Lydia asked from outside the room. “Can I come in?”

  Betta opened the curtain.

  “Oh my. Oh my. Sophia, you look stunning. There couldn’t be a dress any more perfect for you. You look like a glamorous movie star from a bygone era.”

  Sophia bit her thumb. Was that a good thing?

  “You look like a fucking pin-up girl. Mason is going to lose his shit,” Ashley said. “My God, who in the hell helped pick this out? They should have earned a double commission.”

  “Where did you come from?” Lydia asked.

  “The saleslady made us come downstairs when Ashley tried to help one of her other customers,” Rebecca said as she giggled.

  Sophia smiled at the woman who ended up becoming a good friend, despite the fact she’d had the bad sense to marry Sophia’s father.

  “Margie and Frannie came with me to pick out the dress,” Sophia told Ashley in answer to her question.

  “I knew I liked them,” Ashley said with a bright smile.

  “Oh my God, can they come help pick out my dress?” Beth asked.

  “Your bridesmaid dress?” Sophia asked in confusion. “But I like the one you’re wearing.” She looked at the three different styles of navy dresses each girl was wearing and they each looked great.

  “No, not the bridesmaid dress. My wedding dress. I would love to look half as good as you.” Sophia looked at the beautiful Hispanic girl in disbelief. Before she could protest, Lydia gave her ‘the hand’, demanding her silence.

  “Beth’s right. You look too good for words, Sophia. I can’t wait to see Mason’s face when you walk down the aisle.”

  Sophia looked in the mirror. Really looked at herself, and finally breathed a sigh of satisfaction. She did look good.

  “You really do, Sophia,” Rebecca agreed shyly.

  Sophia blushed when she realized she’d spoken her thoughts out loud. She smoothed her hands over the mermaid-style satin dress and grinned. Lydia came up from behind her and gave her a hug. She whispered in her ear. “That SEAL won’t know what hit him.”

  Sophia looked at her wedding dress and an overwhelming wave of sadness washed over her. It hit her from out of the clear blue sky. Her mother should have been here for this. As a child, she used to draw pictures of wedding dresses and show her mother. It had been a fun thing between the two of them, and now her mom wasn’t here to see the dress she had actually chosen. Why aren’t you here, Mom?

  “Oh Sophia, they did a marvelous job,” Frannie’s voice boomed throughout the downstairs area. Sophia saw Frannie and Margie come up behind her in the mirror and was delighted to see they were in stylish dresses that flattered their respective figures.

  “Why did they send you downstairs? Were you misbehaving too?” Ashley asked.

  “Frannie always misbehaves,” Margie answered. “But this time, we demanded to see Sophia. We wanted to see her final fitting. You look gorgeous, Sophia.”

  “Margie, get me a tissue. I’m going to cry.” Margie found a fast food napkin in her purse and handed it to Frannie.

  “All of you look so beautiful. This wedding is going to be spectacular,” Margie said with a wide smile.

  “She’s right. Rebecca, you look lovely,” Sophia enthused. “Billy won’t know what hit him.”

  “Really? Are you sure this is within the budget? It seems like a lot.” The girl eyed the price tag on her dress.

  Five voices rang out assuring her the dress was well within the budget of the wedding, and Sophia loved her friends for it. Rebecca was a foster child and always worried about things, even though she now had a foster mother who would easily purchase the dress for her. Rebecca was still very conscientious about money.

  “Okay, now that I have burned two thousand calories doing contortions to get in and out of dresses, who’s up for lunch? I vote for Mexican food. I desperately need a margarita,” Frannie called out.

  A round of ‘yes’s’ sealed the deal.

  Sophia took one last look in the mirror and gave a secret smile. Yes, Mason is going to love seeing me in this dress.

  Chapter 2

  If he was told one more fucking time it was a quick in and out mission, he was going to quit the SEAL team! Lieutenant Mason Gault gripped his Sig Sauer P239 and glanced at Drake Avery out of the corner of his eye. His second in command was angry but he really didn’t give a shit. He was in command and if someone was going to take the risk on this goat fuck it was going to be him.

  Mason didn’t mind hard assignments, hell he relished impossible assignments. That’s what he and his team were trained for, the reason they had signed up to be SEALs. But this was the third time in a row the intelligence had been one hundred percent wrong. Thank God his gut had warned him, and he and his team had double-timed it to the Middle Eastern village where the reporters were being held.

  Supposedly they were going to be ransomed, and it was Mason’s team’s job to rescue them. However, when they got there, the city square was filled for public beheadings. It was clear by the faces of the people many of them were too scared not to attend, and the armed guards around the perimeter had forced them to be there.

  Mason, Drake, Finn, Clint, Jack, and Aiden had scouted the area for the last twenty minutes. Aiden was going climb to one of the high points and act as a sharp shooter if necessary. They were hoping it wouldn’t be. If it came to that they were toast, since the odds were easily five to one and they still had to get three civilians the hell out of Dodge. He was also going to be the eyes of the team, and that was definitely needed.

  Clint was going to be the one coordinating communications again. Every one of the men was wearing a tracking device so he would know their whereabouts. As soon as one of them got ahold of the civilians, they would be tagged with trackers as well. It was Clint’s job to coordinate with Aiden to come up with the best escape route and to stay on the ass of their extraction team.

  Finn had already provided Mason, Drake, Jack and himself with thaubs, the Arabic robes would disguise their fatigues and vests. However, in this village only about twenty percent of the men wore them, so there was still a chance they would stand out. Thank God Finn also scored agals to wear on their heads. Otherwise, Jack with his blond hair would stick out like a sore thumb.

  The scaffolding where the executions were to take place looked brand new, which to Mason’s way of thinking was a very good sign. It meant this was the first time the terrorists had performed a high-profile execution in this village, so they weren’t practiced. Drake, Jack, and Finn were to mingle with the crowd while Mason went to the building behind the scaffolding where they had to be holding the reporters. It’s what had Drake’s panties in a twist.

  “We should all go,” Drake hissed as he got in his face.

  “Okay guys, spread out. We need coverage and you know it. We’ll be connected via radio,” Mason said pointing to the barely seen transmitter in his ear and the mic somewhat covered by the headdress.

  “That’s bullshit, Mase. You should, at least, take one more man to where we think the hostages are. We’re not lone rangers. We’re a team.”

  “I fucking know that, Drake. But if I’m too late, or I don’t make it, then I’m going to need you guys to get them before they walk up the stairs to the platform. That’s going to require the three of you, and you know it.” Drake gave him a hard stare and finally nodded.

  Mason went first around the corner, and mingled with the crowd. He knew the others would follow. Clint was set up in the falling down building, and Aiden should be in place by the time Mason made it to his target.

  The crowd was thick with people. He couldn’t believe the number of women and children who had been made to come and watch this spectacle. The kids had picked up on their parent's discomfort and were crying. He got closer to one of the sentries and saw he was basically a kid. When he looked closer, he saw the muzzle of his rifle was bent. There was no way he was going to be a threat.

  “Che
ck out the sentries,” he whispered quietly into his mic. “The guy closest to me has a weapon that won’t fire. We might be in for some luck.”

  “Roger that,” Finn said.

  “Gotchya,” Drake answered. “Checking now.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Jack said. He was still new to the team and pretty deferential. Mason knew it would change quickly.

  “Count ‘em off and give me their positions. I’ll coordinate with Aiden,” Clint said.

  Mason provided info on the guards he passed as he made his way to the building where they hoped the reporters were located. He heard as, at least, seven more were identified with inoperable rifles, and he reported two more. Mason did a mental fist pump.

  He couldn’t believe it when he got to the building and there wasn’t a single guard posted at the side entrance. The intel had been right about one thing, they were dealing with amateurs. He pushed the door in slightly, holding his gun to the side.

  A man pulled the door open with a frown and got out two words in Arabic before going for the rifle he had propped up against the wall. Mason rushed him, and using his K-Bar knife took care of him with one well-placed cut. Yelling came from someplace on the second floor. He reached the bottom of the stairs, peeked around, but didn’t see anyone.

  As quickly as he could, Mason did an entire check of the bottom floor and found only one other lackadaisical guard who he was easily able to subdue. There were no other ways down to the bottom floor, which was perfect since the entrance to the public square was on the main floor of the building. He hit his mic.

  “Clint.”

  “Here, boss.”

  “Anyone who’s close, converge on me, ASAP. We have a good shot at an ambush.”

  “Hall-a-fucking-lujah.”

  The yelling continued, and then Mason heard a high pitched scream from the second floor. It took everything he had not to rush upstairs. He knew one of the reporters was being tortured. A sliver of light shone as Drake pushed open the side door. He moved like a ghost to plant himself beside Mason.

  Another shrill scream sounded.

  Another sliver of light as Jack entered the building. It was enough. Mason lifted his fist and pointed up the stairs. He went first. They were careful, and did everything by the book, not knowing what was waiting for them.

  Two screams. Two different voices. Yelling in Arabic and laughter, then Mason could hear the clear sound of electricity. Fuckers were probably using cattle prods. They got to the top of the stairs and walked into a horror house of torture. One man was hanging from a meat hook, naked. He was unconscious. The two others were tied to chairs with hoods over their heads, and seven men with long cattle prods circled around them randomly zapping them.

  In a moment, Mason saw their rifles were either on the floor or against the walls and their side arms were holstered.

  He knew his men realized the same thing. All three knew they weren’t to take any shots, just make sure these seven men were dead as quick as possible and then get the reporters the fuck out of this hell hole.

  The fight was over in less than a minute. Mason barely felt the knife wound from the man behind him. He’d have to assess it after they got out of the building, right now it wasn’t something to slow him down.

  “You’re cut.” Mason wasn’t surprised to see Finn coming up the stairs with his arms full of additional robes. Jack was cutting down the reporter, and Drake had finished untying one of the reporters who was sobbing.

  “Sir, I’m Chief Petty Officer Drake Avery, one of the Navy SEALs, who’s been sent to rescue you. I need you to calm down.” Drake’s soothing tone seemed to be getting through to the man. He gripped Drake’s arms.

  “I’m Dick Lloyd, do you think you can really get us out of here alive?”

  “Absolutely.”

  And they would. It’s what they did.

  “Mason.” He turned to Finn. “I have some men who are going to help us. They are some of the villagers who were forced to attend the beheading. They have the downstairs covered.”

  God Bless Finn Crandall and his scavenging and language abilities. Mason knew you could send Finn into a Men’s dormitory and he’d manage to find a beauty queen, clown, and a proctologist.

  “Finn, how many men do we have downstairs to help us?”

  “Three. Five counting the ones driving the trucks.”

  “What trucks?”

  “The trucks I hotwired. Since these assholes were in here with the reporters, and the rest of them were out front guarding their citizens, I hotwired two trucks so we could make our escape. I figured we could use some drivers, so I found some help.” Mason grinned and patted Finn on the shoulder then he hissed in pain.

  “Mase let me take a look at that, you’re dripping blood.” Finn moved the robe off of Mason’s shoulder.

  “Later, let’s get them loaded up.” He looked around, his team had already gotten the reporters into the robes. He pressed his communication device. “Did you get all of that Clint?”

  “Got it. Aiden’s coming down to where I am. We don’t have robes. Will you be able to come and pick us up?”

  “Affirmative,” Mason responded. “Sit tight.”

  Drake, Finn, and Jack worked with Dick Johnson to hustle the other two reporters downstairs and into the two waiting trucks.

  Finn talked to the villagers, in each truck one of them would sit up front while Finn and Drake rode shotgun. They circled the crowd and soon had picked up Clint and Aiden.

  “Transport is waiting for us. With our sweet rides, it should take us less than an hour,” Clint reported.

  “Let me see your wound,” Clint demanded in the back of the truck. Mason had already forgotten about it in the heat of the mission, but now Clint had mentioned it, the knife wound began to throb.

  “God dammit, I don’t want to be injured right before my fucking wedding,” Mason bitched.

  “Too late. So let's, at least, minimize the damage. Hold still and let me bandage it.” Clint pulled out makeshift supplies. Mason winced as his friend worked on his wound and the truck bounced.

  “This isn’t fucking fair. Darius had to be AWOL for this mission because he needed additional fucking medical training. I get injured and I’m stuck with you?” Clint laughed and so did Aiden.

  “If it had been life threatening, I would have worked on you, Lieutenant,” Aiden assured him.

  “I see the size of your hands, you probably would have killed me with your deft touch,” Mason groused. Again the men laughed at him but all the talking helped keep his mind off the pain.

  “All done. You’re going to need some stitches–”

  “A lot of stitches,” Aiden interrupted.

  “But it didn’t hit any tendons or ligaments just meat,” Clint continued.

  “You did a good job,” the Senior Chief said to Clint. “Lieutenant, your entire team is top notch. This operation went slick as snot. After the shitty intel we received I didn’t think it was possible.”

  Mason looked at the man who was ten years his senior. He might outrank him, but everyone knew a Senior Chief Petty Officer was go-to guy after the Lieutenant and was often more respected. This was the second mission Aiden had assisted Midnight Delta with, and Mason was strongly considering asking him to stay on in a permanent capacity.

  “Thanks for the kind words, Aiden.”

  “Just telling the truth as I see it. You have a strong team and you do a great job leading them.”

  “Damn right he does. Wait until you see him at headquarters tearing it apart about the faulty intel. He’ll do it respectfully of course,” Clint said tongue-in-cheek.

  Mason and Aiden laughed.

  The truck stopped. They heard the sound of incoming helicopters.

  “Gentlemen, our ride is here,” Clint said.

  “Thank fuck.” Mason grinned. “I have a bride to get home to.”

  “I’ll be at the house by tonight, honey.” Sophia gripped her cell phone and thought her face might crack in half bec
ause of her grin.

  “Oh God, this seemed like the longest time ever. I’m sending Billy over to Todd’s house for a sleepover.”

  “I think that sounds like a great idea.” Sophia heard talking in the background. “I’ve got to go. I should see you before midnight.”

  “I’ll be waiting. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Sophia.” She traced her finger over Mason’s picture on her phone, and then pressed on the speed dial for the diner.

  “Margie?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Sophia, I won’t be coming into work tomorrow.”

  “Well hot damn, your boy must be back in town.”

  “He just called.” Sophia let out a relieved laugh.

  “Well give Frannie a call. You know she likes to be told immediately.”

  “Right after I text Billy.” Sophia smiled.

  “Good girl.”

  Sophia pressed end and then sent a text to Billy. He didn’t answer, but she knew he would see it between classes. She was so relieved Mason was on his way home. In the two years they’d been together, he’d been on countless missions but she worried every time and knew Billy did too. Next, she pressed in the number for Frannie DeLuca.

  “Hey Sophia, please tell me you’re not calling to go dress shopping.”

  “Nope, I’m calling to let you know Mason is coming home! He’ll be here tonight.”

  “That’s great news. Do you need anything? I can bring over some food if you don’t feel like cooking.”

  “Nope, I’m just going to clean up.”

  “What are you talking about? The house is spotless. I bet you make your bed every morning.” Sophia winced. Was she that obvious?

  “Well, I have to change the sheets. Plus I want to bake some of his favorite things. I appreciate your offer, but I want to cook for him. It makes me feel good. I’ll get it done before he gets home.”

  “So you both can do the important ‘cooking.’ I get it. I might be old but I have my Tony. So don’t think I don’t know what you’re going to be doing on those clean sheets.”

  “Frannie, how do I always end up in these types of conversations with you and Margie?”