Morgan, Nicole - Sweet Affliction [Sweet Awakenings 4] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Nicole Morgan

  “Yes, Phil, they have. Commander Tom Drake, a recently retired United States Navy SEAL, was one of the men attacked and killed in the ambush. However, authorities have yet to release the name of the other Navy SEAL who was found badly injured and later was pronounced dead-on arrival after being transported to the Hospital de la Comunidad de Loreo.”

  “Horrible, simply horrible. Amber, please keep us posted on any updates from this tragedy.”

  The news anchor’s voice trailed off as anguish roiled up inside Rex. Jack turned the volume down when the news switched to an irritatingly inappropriate commercial for a clothing store, which showed people dancing and singing all because they had the newest and hippest pants. Didn’t television networks have a conscious? They should have a moment of silence once a breaking-news alert like that airs.

  He pulled away from Shelby and went to sit on the nearby couch. Placing his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head in his hands and shook it from side to side. He had known Commander Drake, worked with him on more than one mission. Hell, he led the search-and-rescue team that had led to Jack and him being saved all those years ago in Colombia.

  “Rex?” Shelby went to him and placed an arm around him after sitting beside him. “Did you know him?”

  He didn’t answer. It was just so unbelievable. He remembered hearing about his retirement party after the fact and wished he had known about it sooner so he could’ve gone. That was only three weeks ago.

  “Drake was the guy who led the team which rescued us several years back,” he answered Shelby.

  The room was filled with an overwhelming sense of sadness. Rex knew Jack would be upset by the news and understood why, but he hadn’t been prepared for the cold stare on Adam’s face. He looked nearly frozen in shock.

  “You all right, man?” he asked him.

  Adam stood there, no reaction whatsoever. Rex knew out of the three of them Adam was always the cooler, less emotional of the men, but this was different. Something was off.

  “Adam, you’re scaring me. Say something,” Chelsea insisted.

  Rex shook his head at his friend’s new bride. She was sensitive and so very sweet, the exact opposite of her new husband. Sometimes he wondered how the hell the two even meshed together, let alone well. Adam could be an unattached son of a bitch at times and just shut down. This seemed to be one of those times.

  Calmly, Adam turned to Chelsea and gave her a soft kiss on her cheek before giving her a reassuring smile. “I’m going to go for a little walk. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Adam, please don’t go. Stay here and talk to me. Talk to us.” He was out the door though before she finished.

  Rex felt sorry for her. At times she looked so timid, and he wondered if all her scars had healed from everything she’d been through. She’d just gotten away from an abusive relationship when she met Adam and became embroiled in his revenge plot against the mob boss who had killed his fiancée and their unborn baby. Soon after she was kidnapped, and to this day he didn’t know how badly she had been hurt in that ordeal. He knew Drake’s death was probably a shock to Adam, but he wished the guy would get his shit together sometimes and consider others.

  Clearly embarrassed for the way Adam had walked away from her in front of a room full of people, and so very true to her loving nature, she turned toward the others and said, “He gets like that sometimes. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’ll be back soon.”

  Shelby and Tamara followed her into the kitchen. It seemed a moment of sisterly understanding was in order.

  “He can be such a dick sometimes,” Jack said quietly.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  They both sat there in disbelief. It was bad enough when a team member was killed in action, but to have someone like Commander Drake, one who epitomized all they stood for, live through over twenty years of service, proudly serving his country, only to be killed mere weeks after his retirement seemed to be a sick twist of fate.

  “He never married or even dated that much. He always said he’d settle down and meet the right woman after he served his country,” Jack muttered.

  “It’s not fucking fair. He was a good man.”

  “Yeah. That he was, brother. That he was.” Jack patted Rex’s shoulder.

  “It puts things into perspective you know. I wonder who the other one killed was.” Rex was interrupted by Adam coming back in the house.

  He watched as Adam calmly walked outside to the back deck, reached in the cooler, and retrieved three beers. Quietly and without making eye contact he handed two of them to his friends. Removing the caps they raised them to clink with one another.

  “To Tom Drake, one of the finest men there ever was. Fair winds and following seas, brother,” Adam said.

  “Hooyah!” Jack added.

  Rex couldn’t be sure, because Adam refused to look at either of them, but his voice sounded strained, and his eyes looked a bit weary. He pondered for a moment that his tough-as-nails, don’t-give-a-shit-about-anyone-but-himself friend had actually cried on his brief walk, but quickly dismissed the idea. Tears just weren’t something he thought Adam was capable of.

  “Adam, you’re back so soon.” Chelsea came to sit beside him on the arm of the couch.

  Rex watched him. One minute the insensitive jack ass, the next a smooth-as-silk operator. He pulled Chelsea on his lap and gave her a loving kiss. “Now didn’t I tell you I would be?”

  Rex gave Jack a knowing nod of what the fuck. The man was a walking contradiction. He knew it, Jack knew it, hell even Chelsea knew it. Yet the way she looked at her husband with such adoration showed she didn’t really care.

  Chapter 3

  Nick woke up to the sound of a woman’s voice. She seemed stressed by something. For some reason everything looked blurry. Blinking several times, he tried to focus the haze away that was clouding his vision, but the more he tried the harder it became. His head felt like it was swimming. A bright light shone somewhere above him, and he felt like he was floating.

  A memory of guns being fired and him swimming came to him. He was tired. He remembered being exhausted and thinking of his friend. He was missing something.

  Why was he so disoriented?

  The more he tried to open his eyes, the beam shining at him seemed to get brighter and more unbearable. Fighting for some sense of balance, he extended his hands out to brace himself from falling, but there was nothing to hold on to. It was as if he was suspended in midair. The calming sense of peace that was washing over him made him feel as though he was flying through the air yet only moving at a snail’s pace.

  Again he could hear the woman’s voice. She seemed so upset. A man was with her. They were arguing. Something happened to a man. He was injured and another was dead. That was all he could make out as the two continued to argue. He wondered who was hurt and what happened to the man who had died. Despite the anger he could hear in the woman’s voice, he felt sorry for her. He sensed something else, too.

  Fear. The poor thing seemed to be terrified despite her bravado. He’d always had a soft spot for women. Protecting women, watching over them, making sure they were safe. Hell, it was one of the reasons he had joined the navy in the first place.

  The navy. His navy. He was a SEAL. He’d been shot. And Tom…oh shit. It all came flooding back to him. Bits and pieces were slowing restoring themselves into his memory bank. He knew his long-time friend and former teammate, Tom Drake, had been killed. No. Not killed, but murdered. It was a cold and calculated assassination. The men on the boat. They’d shot him just before he was able to jump overboard and swim to safety.

  A piercing moment of dumbstruck realization fell on him. He thought he’d been safe. Suffering from fatigue and blood loss, he crawled to shelter and to hide from whoever had been shooting at him. He remembered seeing the barrel of a gun staring down at him right before he lost consciousness.

  Oh shit, he thought to himself. He’d thought he swam to safety, but the sons of bitches who shot
his friend had tracked him all the way to the beach where he ended up. All that fucking swimming to get away, and in the end he was dead anyway. That’s why he felt like he was floating. And the bright light…well, he guessed it was true what they said about the afterlife.

  Knowing all this though, something still didn’t seem right. So his friend and he were killed by some foreign mercenaries. But arguing? In heaven? He sure as hell couldn’t be in hell. He was too damn happy. Hell was supposed to a whole lot scarier than bright lights and peaceful feelings of floating throughout the air.

  It was the arguing. People didn’t argue in heaven. Did they? Granted he had never been to heaven before, but surely they had a no-bickering, no-raising-your-voice rule. He found it hard to believe that God would allow people to live in the eternal afterlife filled with angst and hostility.

  “See now, look what you’ve done. He’s starting to wake up. He needs his rest. You mustn’t be so loud,” the man’s voice scolded the woman.

  Even through his blurred vision he was able to make out the form of a large figure coming toward him. It was a man. The same man he’d heard talking just moments ago, he assumed. Whoever he was, he picked up something long and seemed to stare at it for several minutes. He felt the strangest sensation of his arm being raised in flight, much like that of a bird. Maybe he was flying. Shit, maybe he really was dead and God had made him an angel. Stranger shit had happened before, right?

  He considered the possibility. Maybe it took a while to get used to your wings or something. Sure, he had killed his fair share of tangos in his day, but he’d always prayed to the lord after, asking for forgiveness and seeking redemption. Never having been forced to go to church when he was a boy, he was never quite sure of the right thing to do. Surely, those actions were close to what God might deem appropriate after you kill a man.

  The woman’s voice interrupted him from his thoughts. She was past being distraught now. She was full-on crying. He could hear the sound of her voice cracking as she fought against her emotions. The poor thing was terrified and very shaken up by this man she kept referring to. He didn’t know who this man was, but heaven or no heaven he wanted to kick his ass. No man should make a woman cry like that. Women were gentle creatures to be cherished and looked after. They weren’t made for men to hold their power over them, making them fearful.

  When he was used to his new surroundings he would give the woman a hug, anything to make her feel better. He wondered how long that would be as he listened to the couple continually go back and forth with raised voices. All he knew was the man they were fighting over was someone she feared and he respected. It all seemed so very strange. Too bad he couldn’t go back and tell the world how wrong they were. Heaven, in all its beauty and peace, still held conflict.

  A strange feeling shot up his arm. He had felt it before. It seemed familiar. It was unpleasant, though he couldn’t remember why the feeling registered as something he’d experienced before. Perhaps going to heaven came with memory loss.

  Ouch! What the fuck was that?

  Any amount of serenity he felt just seconds ago suddenly vanished. Pain. That’s what it was. The mother of all pain shot through his body and seemed to be felt the strongest in his arm.

  What the hell kind of heaven is this? A life ever after filled with people bitching at each other while he suffered in pain? He didn’t like this one damn bit. Maybe it wasn’t heaven though. Maybe he really was in hell. Paying penance for having killed all those people while serving his country was no surefire ticket to get in the pearly gates. Could it be that everyone had it wrong? Was hell really a place that mind fucks you, giving you the feeling of peace and tranquility right before they yank the rug out from underneath you and say, “Sorry Charlie, you be fucked!”

  He couldn’t help but notice that the woman’s voice went from shaking and anxious to a feeling of concern and remorse. Something about this man again. He was racing or something to that effect. What the fuck was this jerk who was making her cry out racing for? She was obviously upset. He should be here tending to her. Insensitive men really pissed him off. They gave all the rest of them a bad name. Not that any of that mattered anymore. He was dead and all.

  “He’ll be fine. I’ll give him another dose of morphine, and his heart rate will stabilize.”

  “You’re sure?” the woman asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I was trying to wean him off of it little by little so he could start to gain his strength back, but the trauma his body went through was too severe. It’s too soon.”

  Morphine, huh? Well he must be in hell then. He can’t imagine anyone needing morphine in heaven. So the man they fought about so passionately was hurt and needed painkillers. Interesting.

  “I didn’t mean those things I said. Honest, I didn’t. I’m just scared. If whoever did this finds out what you’ve done…”

  He listened to the husky voice apologize to the man whom she’d been yelling at mere minutes ago. He found it so strange that this one man was affecting two people’s lives so much. He always had been a strong believer in the old adage, live and let live. It was foolish that these two were wasting so much of themselves on a man who was apparently nothing but a giant headache.

  Wait. These two weren’t dead. They were very much alive. They didn’t sound like two restless spirits. Not that he knew what restless spirits sounded like, but the fear he’d sensed in her voice was accurate. She was afraid, afraid for her life. Whoever this mystery man was, it was obvious he was trouble with a capital T.

  He could have continued with his thoughts, but pure ecstasy flooded his senses and wrapped him up in a warm blanket. He felt so happy and content. The pain he felt just a bit ago was miraculously gone. This time he truly was flying. He could all but see himself soaring up in the clouds with the eagles. His eyes, which were mere slits of foggy illusion, closed as he gave in to an awesome feeling of bliss.

  * * * *

  “Are you sure no one will come?”

  “I am positive. You and I are the only ones who know about this room in the cellar.”

  “You keep saying that, but I’m not so sure,” the woman continued to prod him.

  “In all the time we’ve lived here, not one person has made mention of it. Obviously the doctor who lived here before us liked his secrets. Whatever he was into couldn’t have been legal.”

  “It just seems so risky. Why didn’t you just call the local authorities and let them handle it?”

  The man shook his head at her. She was always naïve, seeing the best in anyone and everyone. Even the corrupt Mexican Police terrorized everyone else in town with threats of potential accidents happening to their homes or family members if they didn’t pay the un-taxable under-the-table protection fee.

  “Sweetheart, for the last time, I did what I felt I had to do at the time. Would I have done it again given the same set of circumstances a second time around? I don’t know. But I do know that in that single moment I was faced with a choice.”

  “And you believe you’ve made the right one?” she questioned him.

  “Yes, I do. This man, if he is who he appears to be, wouldn’t have been treated with any amount of respect or care. He probably would have died.”

  “Another thing you keep saying. But you don’t know that, Dad.”

  Frustrated and running out of patience, he snapped at his daughter. “No, I do not know that! I suspect it to be true though. He bears the tattoo of a trident. He had a United States Navy ID in his wallet. The man didn’t serve his country to be treated like a piece of shit like the local police.” He held up his hand in mock protest. “No! I don’t want to hear another word on the subject. I’m tired, and I need to rest.”

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I’ve been horrible to you. I haven’t even asked you how you’ve been feeling. I’m just so scared.” The young woman came to her father and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you, Dad.”

  He kissed the woman who stood before him while he recalled memo
ries of her dancing in a pink tutu. Her hair was up in pig tails, and she did the cutest little twirls on her tiptoes.

  “I know, sweetheart. I love you, too.”

  Chapter 4

  Adam came into the kitchen, freshly showered after his morning jog. The three-mile run did little to relieve the frustration he felt that two brothers had lost their lives while they had been sitting leisurely on a boat somewhere off Isla Coronado. Some of his tension subsided, if only a little, when he saw Chelsea standing in front of the sink, rinsing his plate.

  “I would’ve gotten that, babe.”

  She turned her head sideways and gave him a sarcastic grin. “Uh huh. Maybe in a few hours.”

  He threw back his head in laughter. She knew him well and was right. He probably would’ve left it sitting there on the counter for hours before he bothered to even set it in the sink.

  “Well maybe it just turns me on to see you standing there washing my dishes.”

  Placing the sink in the dishwasher, she then closed it, wiped her hand on towel, and turned to him. “Wow, you horny? What are the odds?”

  “Oh, I see we’re a wise ass this morning. Maybe I’ll have to spank you until you behave.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue but instead pulled her close to him and planted a firm hand on her ass.

  “Ouch!”

  “Shut it. You love it and you know it.”

  The phone rang, interrupting their playful banter. “Hold that thought,” he told her.

  “Hello?”

  Adam walked into their living room, picked up the remote, and turned it on. “What channel?”