Wet N Wild Navy SEALs

by Tawny Weber

  "How many members were in the secret chatroom?" Jake asked, fighting his awareness that Bliss had withdrawn.

  "Twelve," the kid said. "When one showed up, they all showed up."

  Twelve, as in a jury—as in twelve apostles.

  "Can you get me in to see those secret chats?" Jake asked.

  "Sure, if the game's still up. I just need something with more RAM than a tablet," he said.

  Bliss set her laptop on the table next to Jake's notebook. Rob took a seat and pulled up the Internet. "And I need someone else to sign in. Even if my old account is still active, they'll know it's me as soon as I logon and trace my IP. And it shouldn't be anyone with the same last name as me, Sis."

  "Use me," Ash said.

  "I'll need your full name and a credit card number."

  "Ah, how about we use Stanley Kubrick?" Ash offered.

  Knowing what Ash was doing, Jake shook his head, and rose from his seat. Might as well take a break while these guys hammered out the details.

  "It's gotta be the name that matches the credit card," Rob said.

  "It does," Ash said.

  Jake stretched and snagged his empty coffee cup off the table.

  "Your real name is Stanley Kubrick?" Bliss asked.

  The sweet sound of her voice sent an ache through Jake he didn't know he even had room for. He headed for the counter where the coffee makers from both rooms sat.

  "No. It's mine," Dozer said, digging out his credit card. "My folks were big Kubrick film fans."

  Bringing an outsider into that inside joke usually lightened any mood Jake might be in. Not this time. Not with Bliss's presence crowding his space.

  "That's the last of the complimentary coffee packs," the bane of his existence said, joining him in the alcove by the door.

  "Ash," he called, trying to ignore that Bliss had essentially blocked him from escape unless he ducked into the bathroom or stepped out into the hall. "Call the front desk. Tell them we need coffee. Lots."

  He poured the dregs of coffee into his foam cup and put the pot back onto its heating plate. She didn't move.

  "You see the connection with the twelve carved seats in the mine and the BETA game, don't you?" she asked.

  There she went again, getting too much into his head. He needed to push her back even harder than he'd been. He faced her—towered over her.

  "What do you want? You want to hear me say it out loud? You were right about the game being at the center of your brother's troubles."

  His challenge should have sent her reeling back from him.

  Instead, she braced a hand against the countertop, bringing her even closer to him, her voice low. "I've never made this about being right, Jake. All I've ever wanted was Rob's safety. I think you know that."

  He took a long pull on the tepid coffee, its bitterness echoing something deep inside him.

  "Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?" she asked.

  So you'll leave me alone. So you'll stop trying to see behind my walls.

  A wordless curse rumbled from his throat. She closed a hand over his bare forearm, her warmth searing a path to his core. He didn't want her sympathy. He didn't deserve it. Yet he was helpless to ignore it.

  He looked at that hand on his arm, small and pale against his sun-tanned skin. He opened his mouth, one syllable away from surrendering.

  "I'm in," Rob called.

  Jake broke away from Bliss, brushed past her, welcoming the interruption…or not. He wasn't sure. His SEAL brain had kicked into gear.

  He took the seat the kid had vacated and scanned the pages of dialogue. But where Rob had been looking for gaming terms among the stilted words of the twelve, Jake soon saw something different.

  "Their language is code, but they're not talking about games," Jake said.

  He slid the laptop across the table to Ash. "You're our code guy. What do you make of it?"

  Ash focused on the screen, his eyes scanning.

  "I think I'm seeing political references here," he said. "Nothing with names. But if we can find a correlation between the chats and some telling events, we might have the next link in this chain."

  The hairs on the back of Jake's neck prickled, but not entirely from the gut feeling they were onto something. Bliss stood at his shoulder. That she could infiltrate his thoughts so easily was a big problem.

  "What do you need me to do?" she asked.

  Stay away from me.

  Their voices woke Bliss. Asher's, Rob's, and Jake's. She blinked through the sunlight streaming across the bed and found the trio huddled around the table chattering like school boys.

  She ratcheted herself up onto her elbows. Dozer, face down on the neighboring bed, barely stirred. At least she wasn't the only one who'd crashed before last night's party was over.

  Like her, Jake had told Dozer to get some rest. Unlike her, he'd told Dozer one of the team needed to be alert come morning.

  A week ago, it would have rankled that he wouldn't see her as valuable as the rest of the team. But she'd proven her worth and he'd acknowledged it more than once. Yet she'd resisted sleep for a while, searching the Internet for more about Judge Pena. More than her ego was at stake here.

  She moved the tablet she'd been using away from her hip and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "You guys find something?"

  Robbie straightened and grinned at her. "We've found enough correlations between the dates of the chats and political events here in Mexico to know we're dealing with some sort of illuminati group."

  She rose, finger-combing her hair as she strode over to the trio. "Illuminati? As in protectors of the Holy Grail?"

  "As in Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code," Rob piped up, bloodshot eyes glistening.

  "More like a group of rich power mongers out to create a new world order that benefits them," Jake said. "There's any number of such secret groups around the world. This one—" He tapped the screen of the laptop "—seems to be manipulating the political system in Mexico."

  "It goes back years," Rob rushed out.

  "Their meetings," Asher interjected, "link them to public scandals, even a couple accidents that either discredited or eliminated someone in the political arena opposing or standing in the way of the man they supported."

  "And that man is?" Bliss asked.

  "A judge on a list for Supreme Court Justice," Jake said. "Judge Pena."

  "Then he is involved." She shook her head. "I've searched all over the Internet for background on this guy. It's like he didn't exist prior to being appointed a federal judge."

  "We need the identities of The Twelve," Jake said, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to Rob. "Can you hack their accounts from the chat room?"

  "I've got limited software to work with. It'd take a while."

  "The sooner we settle this, the sooner you and your sister get your lives back."

  Meaning the sooner he could send them away. Though it made her heart ache, getting Rob out of danger was the goal.

  "If you hacked into one account," she said, "could you contact the other eleven, bring them together for a meeting?"

  "Yeah. I can do that," Rob said.

  "Is that something we can work with?" she asked.

  Though she looked at Jake for an answer, it was Asher who responded. "That's an excellent plan."

  Jake nodded and issued orders. "Ash, call the compound. Get a team up here with the electronics we'll need to surveil the tunnel entrances and that mine. Rob, you got enough juice left in you to work on this now?"

  "He's been up all night," Bliss said, concerned for her brother. "He's still recovering from his beating. He needs rest."

  "I'm okay," Rob said.

  "All of you need sleep," she said, glancing at each of the three men, somehow still on their feet after twenty-four plus sleepless hours.

  "As soon as we get things organized here," Jake said without looking at her.

  "And once Rob hacks an account," she argued, moving into Jake's line of sight, "it'll b
e as soon as we set up the meeting. And after that something else."

  "That's how it works," Jake said, giving her a bleary-eyed look. "How we work."

  She wanted to scream at him to stop being so damn stubborn—about this, and about his belief he didn't belong in the civilized world. If only he'd let her in—let her help him.

  Noticing the curling edges of the bandage on his arm, she said, "At least sit down and let me change your bandage."

  "My arm's fine," he said, heading for the coffeemaker.

  Bliss caught him by the elbow.

  He winced.

  "It's not okay if that hurt," she said.

  "Your hands are cold."

  "Are not."

  "Quit fighting you two before you wake the little one," Asher called, nodding at the snoring Dozer.

  "Nothing wakes Dozer—short of gunfire, a break-in, or someone touching him," Jake grumbled, but sat on the edge of the neighboring bed under Bliss' insistence.

  She dragged a pack to the side of the bed and dug out the supplies she needed. When she straightened, Jake was on his back, hands behind his head. She raised an eyebrow at him.

  "Just getting comfortable," he said.

  She smirked at him. "Whatever it takes to get you to lie down."

  He scowled at her.

  "Give me your wounded arm," she said.

  He offered up his arm.

  She sat on the bed beside him, his forearm clamped between her side and her upper arm as she peeled away the old bandage.

  "How's it look, Doc?" he asked, his voice thick with the weariness he denied.

  "Good," she said and went to work spreading antiseptic ointment over the stitched wound.

  By the time she'd applied a fresh bandage, his arm had gone slack and soft snores escaped his parted lips.

  In slumber, the lines eased from his face and the tenseness of his mouth gave way to smooth lips. He looked a little boyish, even with his dark shadow of whiskers. Maybe it was the lock of dark hair that had fallen across his brow.

  She laid his arm on the bed beside him, leaned close, and stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers, whispering, "That's it, Jake. Let it go. Let it all go."

  She watched him a few minutes longer before gathering up her supplies and rising.

  "He doesn't know how lucky he is," Asher said, taking the first aid supplies from her and repacking them.

  Asher might have been referencing her, but she was thinking of the family Jake had left behind and all he denied himself—of all he could have, if he let himself. And maybe…just maybe he'd find room for her too?

  Chapter 12

  By nightfall, the newly arrived team had set up cameras at the two tunnel entrances and hidden digital recorders in the mine. Asher, with his knowledge of codes, had prepared a summons to the illuminati using their own coded language and Rob had sent it off through the secret chat room. Tomorrow they would have the faces of at least eleven of the twelve. There was nothing to do now but wait…and catch up on much needed sleep.

  Except Jake couldn't sleep. He tried to blame it on that nap Bliss had somehow maneuvered him into. But the truth was he couldn't stop running the plan through his mind. Every detail. Every conceivable way it could fail. And what came next if it did succeed.

  His fist tightened around the photo in his hand. It'd been folded and refolded so many times the image was cracked and chipped almost beyond recognition. The perfect family photo for a man who kept his loved ones at a distance.

  From the Juliet balcony of his and Bliss' room, Jake gazed up at the cloudless sky. If he tuned out the pre-festivity noises of the city, imagined away the muddying lights of streetlamps, and ignored the scent of the cheroot clamped between his teeth, he could almost smell the crisp air whipping across the Icelandic glacier where his parents, pre-teen siblings, and he had posed for the picture just before he headed off for his first round of training. It was the last time they were all together…until Dixie's wedding.

  But he hadn't kept any photos from that family get together. Easier to hide identities when the subjects were bundled in orange cold weather gear and most not quite adults. It'd been a memorable vacation.

  All their vacations were memorable. A benefit of parents who worked in the diplomatic corp. There was always a military transport they could hop to any country with an American airbase.

  Behind him, the bedclothes rustled. Bliss slept almost peacefully. It'd taken a bottle of brandy from the mini fridge for her to take the edge off the day's frenetic activity. He hadn't been as lucky. He'd tossed down three of the little bottles and still found the room claustrophobic.

  "Jake?" Her voice lifted through the darkness, a soft caress to his ears, the scent of cinnamon swirled around him as she approached.

  Leaning a hip against the railing beside him, she peered up at him. "You should be sleeping."

  He rolled the thin cigar between his teeth. "Too much on my mind."

  "You know your cigarette isn't lit," she said.

  He frowned. What was this, another tactic to get under his skin?

  "I quit smoking, and it's not a cigarette."

  "It smells…dry."

  "Like I said, I quit smoking."

  "Yet you still have whatever that is around."

  "Cheroot. More like a thin cigar."

  "Why'd you quit?"

  Here it came, the probing.

  "Smoking isn't healthy for you," he snapped in an attempt to discourage further questions.

  "Then why'd you start?"

  He didn't have to answer her. He shouldn't. But his answer could give her another reason to distance herself from him. He gave her a sidelong look.

  "I was working a part of the world where it helped me fit in…with the bad guys."

  "And now you don't need it."

  "Now, smelling of anything unessential gives you away."

  "Yet you keep that dried up cigar around."

  "I like to chew on it when I've got too much on my mind."

  "You do have a lot on your mind now."

  He bit down on the slim cigar, nearly snapping it. He hadn't meant to confess so much.

  Or did he?

  She stood there against the balcony rail, a silent force of calm. He envied her calm. He wanted to know it.

  He tossed the unlit cigar over the rail and leaned back against the doorframe. "You know why I became a SEAL?"

  She shook her head, the slight tensing of her body giving away her interest. It was enough to warn him against revealing more to her. But something, maybe the liquor, maybe that sense of calm she surrounded them with, put him in the mood to share.

  He exhaled. "My father was a SEAL."

  Moonlight illuminated the confusion creasing her brow. Apparently she knew enough of his family history to question his statement.

  "I'm referencing my biological father, not Joe St. John."

  She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

  "I'm a St. John by adoption."

  She gave an understanding nod and tilted her head, inviting more.

  "I was still in diapers when my father died on a mission. I was nearly five when my mom married Joe St. John." He grimaced. "I wasn't happy about sharing my mother with another man. Gave Joe a hard time." He tipped his head back against the doorframe. "My mother got pregnant with Roman right away. The more they tried to include me in the coming of a baby brother, the more I acted out."

  "That's normal for a little boy, Jake."

  He peered out at the city lights. "My mother had just given birth to Joe's first son, yet Joe came home to me. He didn't ask if I wanted to see my baby brother. I'd made it clear I didn't."

  "Still normal," she said.

  "Joe took my memento box down from my closet shelf and opened it on the bed. I wasn't happy about that. Only my mother and I had ever shared what was in that box."

  He stared at the floor between their feet. "Joe patted the bed, inviting me to join him on it and tell him about my dad."

&nb
sp; "Sounds like a smart man."

  "I stood there in the doorway, probably with my bottom lip stuck out a mile."

  "Jake St. John pouting. There's a sight I'd like to have seen."

  He snorted. "Joe wasn't just a smart man. He was patient, too. When it was clear I was holding out, he reached into the box."

  "'Let's see what we have here?' he said." Jake watched Bliss for reaction. "Joe touching my dad's things was more than I could stand. I threw myself onto the bed and grabbed the box away from him. I suspect that was his intention from the start, to engage me in any way I was willing to be engaged."

  A sad smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "What did Joe do next?"

  "He said there were some pretty nice looking medals in the box, that they should be displayed. I said they belonged to my father."

  "'All the more reason they should be displayed,' he said. That they were medals of a brave man who'd died protecting others. He said he'd like to build a case for them, if it was okay with me. He also said he hoped he'd have that kind of courage when it came to protecting his sons. Sons, plural not singular."

  She sobered and a silence stretched between them.

  "How did little Jake feel about that?" she eventually asked.

  "I was confused. This man who'd invaded my life, making like a father who wanted to share my real father with me."

  "And?"

  "I liked the idea of displaying my father's medals, figured if this guy wanted to make a case for me to do that, fine."

  "And that was that?"

  "Almost." A clipped laugh escaped Jake. "Baby brother Roman came home. Yet Joe paid me extra attention, took me on big boys only outings. I enjoyed the one on one time in spite of myself, and he seemed to enjoy our outings, too. My respect for him grew exponentially after that. And with that respect came the sense that he loved me as much as his biological son. On my tenth birthday, instead of a gift, I asked Joe St. John to adopt me."

  She shifted away from the railing. "Oh, Jake."

  He crossed his arms over his chest, still pushing her back. "But I could never shake that sense that I'd never gotten to really know my biological father."

  "So you followed his path and became a SEAL?"

  She leaned back against the opposite doorframe. Damn, she was good at this social stuff.