Second Chance SEAL: The Girl He Left Behind (Sunset SEALs Book 2)

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Great. We’ll take a road trip!” He was all for it.

  She stood against him, touching his lips with her forefinger. “Damon, I need to meet with her alone.”

  “Sure. I’ll drive. You have your meeting, and we’ll do some fun stuff, and then return. It’ll be a great trip.”

  Her eyes studied him. “This is important. This is something I need to do by myself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to just fly up there on my own. They’re living in Palo Alto now. I haven’t seen them in ten years.”

  “Them?”

  “She’s married. We have some history. I needed to clear the air with her at first. Later, perhaps another visit, we can all be together, but not for this first meeting, Damon.”

  He broke away, sitting on the couch. He didn’t like what he was hearing.

  “You’ve never mentioned this friend. What sort of friend are we talking about, Martel? A lover?”

  “No, please. I’ll tell you all about it after the meeting. I promise. I just need you to trust me.”

  “But we decided not to have any secrets. And now you’ve got one. I’m not part of that.”

  “It isn’t like that. Believe me, this is different. I’m going to tell you the whole story, soon. I’ll be safe. I’ve made a promise to myself, to her, to my mother. I’m promising you I have to do this initially by myself. I just can’t talk about it further.”

  He stiffened.

  “This is really strange, Martel. What the hell is this all about?”

  “Something that happened when I was in school up in Oregon. It’s not bad—”

  “Then tell me!”

  “I promise I will. I’m just not ready yet.”

  So that was it. She had some big fucking secret he wasn’t included in. Was this some former colleague, a lover? Did she have an affair with a woman? Is that what she was afraid to tell him?

  He wanted to ask but didn’t want her to be offended in case he was wrong. He decided to go for it anyway. “Look, Martel, if this woman is someone you were romantically involved with, I don’t care. As long as you’re not asking me to share you with her husband, or share me with her, I’m fine with something from your past that meant something to you. I wasn’t there. But now that I’m here, I really beg you to let me be a part of it.”

  “You will be, Damon. I promise. It isn’t fair to ask you, but I must ask that you trust me.”

  So, there it was.

  She took all her things, and he even dropped her off at the airport the next day. Her friend, she said, was going to meet her in San Francisco.

  “I’ll text you so you know I’ve gotten there safely,” she’d said.

  “Fine. Can I ask one more question before you go?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  The look on her face broke his heart. As he watched her cross the concourse toward the gates, he wondered if it would be the last time he’d ever see her.

  He wanted to feel something, but he was in shock. Maybe he was dead and had just figured it out, like in the movie.

  This was friendly fire. The worst kind.

  Chapter 18

  Every time Martel felt the cramp in her stomach and her shortness of breath, she put it out of her mind. Someone had told her that the Special Forces operators did a good job of masking pain, even being able to stop bleeding in a critical situation, if they were trained properly.

  She was far from having that skill. But distraction was helping.

  The bay wasn’t anything like Tampa Bay, where the water was so delineated people could live along the edge. These edges curled around like some alien oil painting. Parts of the bay were purple, part dark brown. It reminded her of her trip to Yellowstone when she was a child and viewing all the little steamy mud pools of different colors.

  When the wheels touched the ground, she was shaken to reality. Lori Newberg was going to meet her at the luggage carousel. Although she’d seen the woman years ago, she wasn’t sure she’d recognize her.

  As she descended down the escalator, the Newbergs stood together, arm in arm, a safe distance from the limo drivers who were picking up their charges. Lori’s hair was shorter now, and had turned salt-and-pepper gray. She wore a red long-sleeved wool dress with a hooded rain parka in a light tan color. Mark wore a long black raincoat over his suit trousers. He’d worn a white shirt and red tie. His horn-rimmed glasses pegged him as a professor at Stanford or a school administrator. Neither of them smiled. In fact, Martel saw Lori tighten her grip on her husband’s arm and seem to draw strength from him.

  She’d rehearsed what she would say to the couple, and now everything she’d practiced went out the window. When she noticed Lori’s eyes were watering, Martel knew what to do.

  “First, let me say I’m grateful. Very grateful for what you’ve done and also for giving me the opportunity to speak with you both. I hesitated for so long—”

  Mark pointed to the moving turnstile. “What color? I’ll get your suitcase.”

  “It’s big and brown with a turtle design on it. I bought it in Hawaii.”

  As Mark ran off to get the bag, Lori cleared her throat. She inhaled. “Well. Here we are again. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about all this.”

  “Me too.” Martel smiled at her. She could see the woman was stressed, as she would be.

  “God, did you bring sand from Florida?” he said struggling to get the handle pulled.

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you, I’ve been visiting friends in San Diego. I’ve been in California over a week now.”

  “Christmas break for you too, right?” Lori asked as they made their way out of the baggage area and into the parking lot. A light rain was falling.

  “Yes.” She was going to tell them about her new boyfriend but decided not to do so. “And in case you’re worrying I brought such a big bag, I’m only staying until tomorrow and then I fly home—I mean I fly back to San Diego and then back to Florida in another four days.”

  “You said you got a room in Palo Alto?” Mark asked. “Where is your reservation?”

  “The Stanford Court. Thought I might go do some last-minute Christmas shopping too.” Her attempts at being light-hearted were not working. Not only wasn’t she relaxing them, but she was making herself nervous as hell. She started noticing everything she didn’t like about her wardrobe, starting with the new loafers she’d bought that were giving her blisters. She wasn’t used to wearing long pants and wool, multi-layers and sweaters, even in the middle of December.

  “Stanford Court is nice, and it’s not far from our house, is it, Mark?” Lori asked.

  “Yup.”

  As Mark opened the car doors for both her and Lori, she thanked them both for picking her up at the airport.

  “No problem. We’re glad to,” Mark said.

  No one said anything on the way to Palo Alto from the airport. Afternoon traffic was beginning to congest the freeway. She used the time to send a text to Damon, which wasn’t read. She added another line, asking what he wanted her to get for his late Christmas present.

  Martel checked in, giving the bellman ten dollars to bring the bag up to her room.

  She’d already called ahead and knew that they had a bar area and coffee shop off the lobby that wouldn’t be very crowded that time of day.

  “Should we sit in here?” she motioned to the tables. Two big screen T.V.’s were playing sports, but the volume was mercifully turned low. She let them select the table. Mark ordered a Scotch, but Lori and Martel both had water.

  Mark leaned into the table, his brow furled. “I have to air something first, if you don’t mind. Are we going to be sued?”

  “Oh heck no! Why—oh you thought since Mr. Karmody contacted you that I had those intentions. I don’t.”

  “Well, that’s what he said too. I feel I should tell you that Lori and I are not rich, but we’ll spend every penny we have trying to defend our right to keep Ainsley. We have se
veral friends who are well-connected here in Silicon Valley who said they’d help. I’m not here to fight—”

  “Nor am I,” Martel interrupted him. “Honest. I’m not here to interfere with your rights as her parents, her real parents. I’m just here to make my request. Just once, I’d like to talk to her, to have her hear it from me that I didn’t abandon her, that I arranged it so you could have her, and raise her the way I couldn’t. But I didn’t abandon her.” Martel feared the last part. “I did it for love, because I love her.”

  Lori’s eyes were spilling over her lower lids now. “Why do you have to do that? Whatever gives you the right?”

  Martel looked between the two wonderful people who were lucky enough to have her little girl. It was strange sitting across the table from them and feeling grateful for what they’d done. She wished she could make them see that.

  She took Lori’s hand. “Because I wanted her to know that she was and is loved. That she wasn’t discarded. She’s always been loved.”

  Lori withdrew her hand and blotted her eyes with the napkin. “We’ve told her that many, many times.”

  “I know that. But I want her to hear it from me.”

  Mark was concerned for Lori, and it was obvious he was going to support her in any way she wanted. He waited until her composure came back.

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I only held her for a few minutes. I just wanted her to know what was in my heart when I let her go.”

  Lori looked into her lap. She extracted a picture of a preteen girl, tall and lanky, blonde, wearing a basketball uniform, holding a ball in her hands. She was the spitting image of her father.

  Martel didn’t want to touch the photo but stared down at her daughter, seeing the shape of her face, the way her button nose flared out to the sides but had a flat spot, just like hers. When she held her in the hospital, she’d noticed all those things. She’d kissed her forehead, and handed her to the nurse.

  Something distracted her on her blouse, and Martel noticed she’d been crying.

  “She’s beautiful, Lori. She’s even prettier than I imagined.”

  Mark spoke up. “She’s a helluva basketball player. She’s good at every kind of sport we can find her. She plays soccer, baseball, basketball, and now she wants to play volleyball. If it has a ball, if it moves, if she has to shove aside three other players first, she’ll be the first to the ball every time.”

  Of course, that made perfect sense.

  “What did her father do? Is he athletic?” Lori asked.

  Martel smiled. “Yes. You would say that.”

  Lori asked if Martel was still teaching. They let her know that Mark had accepted the administrator’s job at a large charter school in the area. Lori was now working toward her degree in counseling and administration, but teaching was still her first love.

  “Where did you get the name Ainsley?” Martel asked.

  “It was my mother’s.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  They laid down ground rules for a meeting, giving them time to sit down with her and make sure her daughter was comfortable with it. It was decided that sometime in February when the school had a ski week break would be best, and Martel agreed.

  “We talked between us about the possibility she might want to reach out to you someday.” Mark frowned. “Are we still of the same opinion?” he asked his wife before he continued.

  “Yes, I feel comfortable with that.”

  “We decided that it should be her choice, not yours and not ours,” he said.

  “I can honor that. I think we have to be very transparent. I don’t want any secrets.” Martel nearly choked on that word.

  “Exactly.”

  Before they parted, Martel reached into her purse for the leather folder with the pictures of her pregnancy, nearly month by month.

  But the package wasn’t there.

  Chapter 19

  Damon joined Renny and a couple of the single Team guys at the Scupper. It didn’t feel like two days before Christmas. He’d brought Martel some expensive lingerie, but now he wasn’t sure she’d be around to open them up. So he didn’t bother buying a Christmas tree. Kyle, Cooper, T.J., Fredo, and several other married guys with kids were busy attending ballet recitals, quick trips to Disneyland or one of the Aquariums, or a Mexican cruise.

  The banter was stupid. He felt like a loser, listening to stories about trying to bag girls, as if that was everything in the whole world. Several wanted to know about Florida, especially if there was good action there. He humored them. He lied. And he felt shitty about it, too.

  Taking another drag on his long-necked beer, he caught a whiff of his own body odor. He hadn’t shaved nor taken a shower since he’d taken Martel to the airport yesterday.

  Renny slid closer to him, and Damon frowned and slid away. “Get off me.”

  “What’s eaten your candy cane, asshole?”

  Damon shrugged.

  “So who is this friend she wants to visit?”

  “Beats me. Some chick she met in Oregon.”

  Renny considered something before he spoke. “You know, lesbian girls can be pretty hot. Have you seen—”

  Damon shoved him off the bench and walked out to the strand.

  Like a fly on a piece of flypaper, Renny was that stray dog that would never leave him alone. He ran, catching up to him, and just matched Damon’s long strides. Even assuming the position.

  “See, if you’re mad, Damon, you gotta walk like this.” He slapped Damon’s bicep and pointed to himself. “You kinda hunker down and slink down the sidewalk.” He exaggerated leaning back, letting his legs kick out in front of him like the cartoons on the old R. Crumb comics.

  Damon had loved those books. The beefy girls had perfectly round tits and thighs that could crush a man’s head between them. Quirky and an acquired taste, but he liked them.

  Charlene made him get rid of them when they got married. Renny had been right about her all along.

  It was impossible to be mad at Renny for too long. He was an easy friend because he wasn’t discerning. He’d taken that knife blade to the chest to defend the Senator’s daughter and never complained about it once. Renny had expected at least a phone call from the Senator. They teased him no-end about it.

  He was proud to be part of one of the most successful raids they’d done and it made up for the last two that didn’t go so well. They’d rescued over forty women and six children. They were due to be shipped out to South America, headed eventually to the U.S. or Canada. From there, the women would be lost, the children used and abused or worse, snuffed out. It felt good to clean out their inventory of death and destruction.

  But except for a very few, the general public would never know. The Senator was too busy running for re-election. At least that’s what they told Renny. This type of operation could never be leaked.

  So maybe that was weighing on his mind as well. Just a confluence of timing that wasn’t working for him. Unfinished business, because the bad guys would always be out there. Some of the good guys would pay the price, have accidents. That was unfair, but what they signed on for.

  He owed Renny an apology.

  “Sorry, man. I’m in a lousy mood. I shouldn’t have come.”

  “You did the right thing. You were alone and wondering what she was up to. I’d feel the same way, except I would have snuck up and had her followed. And then, if there was a woman, or another guy, I would have pounded the shit out of them, either way.”

  Damon knew Renny wouldn’t do that.

  “So what is it, really? Just spill it. I’ll make it worse!” Renny said brightly.

  “I don’t know,” he lied. He didn’t tell anyone he’d asked her to marry him and she’d turned him down. Nicely turned him down someone would say. As if there was anything nice about it. He missed their connection, the intensity with which she gave herself to him. He wanted to inhabit every square inch of her body, her thoughts and her soul. He couldn�
�t help it if he was selfish. He’d had a taste of that, and he got hooked forever.

  ‘I’m done looking’ he’d told her. Maybe he nixed it by not buying her a ring. But what they had was bare naked truth and that sense of belonging as if they were originally one body and somehow got separated and now found each other again. He didn’t want anyone else. He didn’t want to pretend to be happy. He wanted to feel like he did when they were skydiving. Watching the wonder in her face as she screamed, even if she did slime him. He held her arms out, felt her joy and mirth melting into him as he kept her in the air, opening up her world to the view from thirteen thousand feet.

  Not every man could do that for his woman. Not every woman could be present for it. It took someone special to let him be in control, to understand that he loved teaching her about flying, about sex, about what this whole brotherhood thing was all about. He thought all that was important to her, because it was important to him.

  Renny had been prattling on about something he hadn’t been paying attention to.

  “Ice cream?”

  “Sure.”

  They hadn’t really had dinner, but he didn’t want any. Renny ordered a sundae for him because he didn’t care. He checked his phone and didn’t get a text from her saying she was back. That either meant that she’d stayed another night, or she didn’t want him to pick her up, or worse yet, she’d flown all the way back to Florida.

  “Fuck it.”

  “Fuck what?” Renny brought his waffle cone Sundae covered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream, placing it right in front of him.

  He stared at the whipped cream, let his finger dive into it and brought a huge glob to his mouth.

  “I got a spoon here, Damon.” Renny passed the white plastic utensil over the table for him.

  “I don’t want to eat it with a spoon. I want to eat it with my finger.”

  Renny put it down and stared at him. “Something’s not right here.”

  He thought about it then scooped up another fingerfull and stared down the street.