SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle

by S. M. Butler

  Still, he couldn’t let Ysabeau’s kindness sway his decision. There were a lot of good people in the world who needed the Guardians’ money as much, or more, than her clinic did.

  Sunny’s sweet freckled face popped into his thoughts, and his gut clenched even more.

  He called home.

  “Hello?” Sunny answered on the second ring.

  His heart melted. “Ah, sweetheart, it’s good to hear your voice.”

  “Daddy!” she squealed. “Are you okay? Danny told me you were beat up.”

  “He told you?” Why couldn’t Dan keep his trap shut?

  “Don’t be mad. I got it out of him.” She lowered her voice. “Two things he can’t handle—whining and tears. So are you okay? Really?”

  Luke shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “Seriously? You’re not just saying that? I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad. I can take it.”

  His heart squeezed. He wanted her to be his little girl forever. “I’m a little sore, but good.”

  “Can you send me a picture? I’ve gotta show my friends.”

  “You want a picture of me in my beat-to-hell glory?”

  “That’s a quarter in the Swear Jar, Dad.”

  “Sorry, beat-to-heck. You don’t want to give your friends nightmares. My mug is not as pretty as it usually is.”

  “Cool. None of my friends have a dad who single-handedly fought off a gang attack,” she said.

  He groaned at the signature-Danny-truth-stretching. “It wasn’t quite like that.”

  “Just hold your phone out, snap the picture, and email it to me. It’s going on Facebook. Julie Anne will freak. She thinks her dad is the only hero in the world because he’s fighting in Afghanistan. Now everyone will see what I already know—my dad is a hero too.”

  That hit him in the soft spot. He cleared his throat. “Thanks a lot, kiddo, but my iPhone was stolen.”

  “They took your cell! What’re you going to do?”

  He smiled. A teenage girl’s fate-worse-than-death was to be disconnected from her phone. “The Guardians will buy me a new one when I get home.”

  “When are you coming home? Danny’s nice and all, and he lets me do anything I want, but I miss you.”

  He blew out a deep breath. “A few days. I need to get a new passport and tickets. In fact, why don’t you put Danny on the phone so that I can have him wire me some money?”

  “Okay. Danny! Dad says to pick up the other phone.” She yelled across the house. Softer, she said, “Are you really okay? You sound tired.”

  She had no idea. He was exhausted to the bone, especially now that the painkillers were wearing thin. “Yes, sweetie. I’m okay.”

  “Who’s taking care of you? Making you French toast?”

  He leaned against the counter. “You’re the only one who knows how to make my French toast. A nice doctor is taking care of me. Don’t worry, I’m in good hands.”

  “I bet you are,” Danny said, picking up the other phone. “I’ve gone online. From the pictures I’ve seen, that doctor is a looker.”

  “Danny!” Sunny said. “Dad’s not like you. He’s into girls, not boys. Remember? He married Mom.”

  There was a bone-twisting silence as everyone remembered Sunny’s mom. Luke squeezed his eyes shut and wished she was standing right there behind him, her soft breath against his ear.

  “Um, Dad, you’re not saying anything. Is there something you want to tell me?” Sunny asked.

  Luke chuckled, wondering what his daughter would say if she saw him in Ysabeau’s pink robe. “The doctor is a girl, honey. A very nice person.”

  “Oh. Good. Do you think she’s pretty?” Sunny asked.

  He thought about those deep amber eyes and sparkling smile. “Very.”

  “Shew, that’s a relief. For a moment I thought you’d joined Danny’s team,” Sunny whispered.

  “Hey! I heard that. Your dad isn’t invited to play on my team,” Danny grumbled. “Have you seen his hairy chest? Not one of my ‘teammates’ would be interested.”

  “Dad says real men only shave their faces—not chests. He doesn’t like piercings, either. But Suzie’s brother’s nose ring is pretty hot, and the tattoo on his arm is—”

  “Danny!” Luke could feel his blood pressure rising. He needed to be home to protect his daughter from all danger, especially Suzie’s brother. “You need to wire me money.”

  “Sure, Luke. When?”

  “Immediately! Get me home. I don’t want to stay in this hellhole a second longer than I have to.” Luke saw a flash of movement reflected in the toaster.

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw Ysabeau standing behind him with a pained look on her face. He winced and did his best to erase his words with a smile.

  *

  To her shock, Ysabeau had come home to find that Luke was no longer asleep on the couch. What happened to him?

  Her pulse raced until she heard his voice and followed the rich tone to the kitchen. Holding the bag she was carrying against her chest, she found him sitting on her barstool, casually talking on the phone. She stood there and took in the sight. Accustomed as she was to living alone, seeing him there was strange and wondrous all at once. Luke’s deep voice seemed to fill up the empty places in the kitchen nook and her heart. For a split second, she imagined coming home every day to a man sitting on that barstool, or better yet, in her bed.

  To not be alone. What would that feel like?

  It was puzzling to be hit by these waves of desire. A few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of letting a man into her home. Not after the attack. “The bad man” as Deolina called him had forced her to lock her doors—to her house and her heart.

  Somehow, taking care of Luke had changed things. It was as if he held some magical key. She realized with blinding clarity she didn’t want to be lonely anymore. On the tide of that revelation came an even bigger wave—she wanted a man to love her. She was finally strong enough.

  When Luke said, “…I don’t want to stay in this hellhole a second longer…” the pretty image in her mind snapped.

  Warmth spreading in her chest turned cold. The man in her kitchen couldn’t wait to crush her and leave her patients to die. She was a fool to trust any man.

  Her doors slammed shut, and she mentally tossed the key in the bay.

  *

  He knew what Ysabeau had heard and how it sounded. Great job, Luke. Way to spit in the eye of the angel who saved your life.

  Massaging the ache in his neck, he followed her down the hall. He pressed his forehead to her door. “Ysabeau?” he called softly.

  There was a muffled sound on the other side of the door.

  “That was my daughter on the phone. What I said didn’t sound right when you came in. What I meant was…” Shit, did I say hellhole? “I don’t want to burden you anymore. You’ve been amazing, Ysabeau. Letting me stay in your house, nursing me back to health, feeding me. I am grateful. I am. But I have to go home. My little girl needs me.”

  She didn’t say a word.

  He pressed his hand to the wood. “As soon as the money gets here, or the replacement credit cards, I’ll check in at a hotel. Okay? Ysabeau?”

  She opened the door. Her eyes were redder than usual. “No. It’s not okay.”

  He swallowed. Was she crying? “Which part?”

  “The leaving part. You have a bump on your head, Luke. Bruised ribs, contusions. I won’t let you go anywhere until I’m sure you are well enough to be alone.”

  Mentally, he breathed a sigh of relief that she was willing to let his stupid words go. “You want me to stay here?”

  “Yes, of course. I can take care of you.”

  “I’m in your hands.” He remembered Danny’s comment and grinned.

  She shoved a brown bag into his hands. “Then do as I say. Change your clothes and go sit down. You look pale.”

  “What’s this?” He peeked into the bag.

  “A few things.”

  “A c
ouple of shirts, a pair of shorts, a toothbrush, shaving kit.” He riffled through. “Thank you, Ysabeau. I’ll pay you back when my friend wires me the money.”

  “That isn’t necessary.” A pounding on the front door shut her mouth and made her jump.

  He cocked his eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”

  “Go ahead and change your clothes. I’ll be right back.” She moved past him as fast as the wind.

  *

  Luke came out of the hall bathroom wearing his new shorts and cotton polo shirt. Flip-flops slapped his feet as he rushed toward the foyer, following the sound of a male Kreyòl voice raised in anger. Ysabeau’s in trouble? A pang lurched in his chest. He wiped the sweat from his face, combed his fingers through his hair and rounded the corner. He may have been beat-all-to-hell, but he wasn’t about to let some guy come to Ysabeau’s home and harass her.

  “What’s going on here?” he barked.

  A young guy raised his hand. “Hey, chief. What’s shakin’?”

  Bad memories flashed through Luke’s brain. He might not remember the name, but he’d never forget this kid. He lunged forward. “Your skinny body when I rip you a new—!” The sudden movement was more than his body could take. Losing his equilibrium, he clutched his spinning head, and fell into the wall. A hiss seeped through his lips.

  “Luke!” Ysabeau rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

  “I’m okay. I’m okay.” When the room stopped its violent whirlpool motion, Luke jabbed his finger in the guy’s direction. “Call the cops! That’s the kid who attacked me. He and his thug brothers.”

  “Tico came to apologize.” Ysabeau motioned for the kid to step forward. “Tell him.”

  “Tico! That’s the name I couldn’t remember. Good to know when I call the cops.” Luke turned to go back to the phone in the kitchen.

  “Wait! I’ve got some of your stuff.” Tico flapped the air with Luke’s cell phone. “I’m working on the rest. May take a few, but I think I can get it all back.”

  “Good news, right?” Ysabeau was watching him, not the thug-boy.

  He snatched his cell from Tico’s fingers. “Who’d you call, France? Zimbabwe? China?”

  “No, man. Well, I didn’t. The other guys might’ve used it a little. Don’t get mad at me if your bill is higher than usual.”

  “Mad? I’m going to wring your scrawny neck!”

  Ysabeau gave his elbow a quick gentle squeeze. “Tico’s really sorry. He didn’t know you were a friend.”

  “God’s truth.” Tico made a miniature cross on his chest with his index finger. “In Haiti guys dressed in fancy suits like yours are trouble. Big, ugly trouble that I didn’t want anywhere near Dr. Morno. I owe her my life.”

  Luke glanced at Ysabeau. The expression on her face implored him to take the creep at his word. He scrubbed his cheeks with the palms of his hands.

  “So chief, we okay?” Tico made a circular movement with his finger. “Not gonna call the cops are you?”

  “Your buddies could’ve killed me!”

  “Nah.” Tico spread his hands, palms up. “Just scare you. A little. To keep you from the doc, that’s all.” His eyes were as innocent as a lamb’s. “Didn’t work out too well, ’cuz look, here you are.”

  “Please, think about it, Luke. Tico has a police record,” Ysabeau said softly.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “He’s not like that anymore. He changed.”

  “Are you shitting me?” Luke pointed to his face. “Look what he did to me.”

  “Pretty ugly, but I can’t take all the credit,” Tico said. “Your parents get some of the blame.”

  Luke lunged until he was glaring into Tico’s eyeballs.

  “Tico!” Ysabeau touched Luke’s shoulder, gently pulling him back. “I don’t expect you to forgive him, but can he make amends? They’ll kill him in prison.”

  Tico nodded. “Too many rival gang members in the Haitian penal system. Not a safe place for me.”

  Luke crossed his arms. “Not my problem.”

  “He’s my responsibility. I promised his mother that I’d take care of him. For three years he’s stayed out of trouble. Until now.” Those gorgeous eyes welled with tears. “I can’t have another death on my conscience.”

  Ah, hell. “My things. How long until I get them back?”

  “Soon. End of the week, two weeks tops.” Tico nodded like a man possessed. “Everything’s gonna be fine, right chief?”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  “Whatcha want me to call you?”

  He glared at the kid. “Your worst nightmare. I know who you are and where you work. Return my stuff. All of it, in perfect condition, and I won’t call the cops.”

  “No problème. Just like I said.”

  Luke held out his hand. “My watch?”

  Tico looked at his arm as if the Rolex had suddenly sprouted there. “Oh, yeah. I was keeping it safe for you. Here.” Slowly, carefully, he took the watch off. He blew hot air on the glass and polished it on his T-shirt.

  “Give me that!” Luke snatched it from him. He searched for scratches, dents, anything on the watch to give him just cause to boot Tico into next week. Sadly, the Rolex was clean and running. “You fixed it?”

  Tico nodded. “Works perfectly now. We good, chief?” There was just a twinge of fear in his eyes.

  Tico afraid of him? That was good. “I want the rest before I go home, or you’re jailbait, got it? Two days.”

  Tico shot Ysabeau a nervous glance. “Two days?”

  “You got it, chief.” Luke rubbed his stubbled chin and said to Ysabeau, “All right if I use your shower and clean up? I could use a shave.”

  “Of course,” she said softly.

  As Luke hobbled off toward the bathroom, he heard Ysabeau’s voice rising behind him. Tico’s whiny responses grated against his spine. He couldn’t understand a single Kreyòl word, but knew an argument when he heard one. He hoped Ysabeau was demoting the creep, or kicking his skinny ass out of the clinic altogether.

  Then the realization hit—in a short time no one would be working at the clinic. Not even Ysabeau.

  The shower made Luke feel more human. He rewrapped the bandage around his ribs, put his new clothes back on, and went in search of Ysabeau. He found her in the kitchen pulling vegetables out of the refrigerator.

  “Wow, you look better,” she said over her shoulder. “A lot. Better.”

  “Amazing what a little water and soap can do.”

  She gazed at him for an extra-long beat. “You must be tired. Why don’t you take a nap while I make supper?”

  He bristled. And give you the opportunity to slip more painkillers in my soup? No friggin way. “I’ve got a better idea. Prop me up in a corner and give me a task, like chopping vegetables. I’m a good chopper.”

  “I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

  “Aw, come on. I’m a manly man, remember? I can chop, fry, and grill with the best of ’em.”

  The corners of her lips turned up just a hair. “Much more manly now that you’ve retired my robe. All right. Let’s make supper.”

  She set him up at the barstool with a cutting board, a knife, an onion, and a carrot. After rubbing spices into a guinea hen and popping it into the oven, she plopped a bag of red potatoes in the sink to peel them.

  “Clearly, you gave me the toughest job, Ysabeau,” he teased.

  “Oh, I did. I hate chopping onions.” Ysabeau peeked her head in the refrigerator, moved things all round, and scratched her nose. “Hmm, I thought I had a papaya in here.”

  “Yeah.” He grimaced. “I might’ve eaten it. Oh, and the mango too. Sorry. I was starving.”

  She looked startled. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long. You could have fallen or hurt yourself.”

  “Because of the Vicodin you slipped me?”

  Her mouth fell open. “I…how…how did you find out?”

  “I don’t take painkillers, Ysabeau. Tylenol, or Advil, som
etimes, but not the big guns. You need to be honest about my treatment. Deal?”

  She came to him and gently probed the lump on his head. “I can’t get the image out of my head. Your beaten body lying in the alley…”

  He flinched when she touched his bruised bump, but held still while her soft fingers trailed his cheek. “I’m better now. Really.”

  “Once the Vicodin wears off, you’ll be hurting again.” She gazed deeply into his eyes.

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  Tipping her head, she studied him. “You must be in a lot of pain. Why won’t you take the pills? Oh.” Something resembling guilt colored her cheeks. “You’re an addict, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have…I didn’t know.”

  “I’m not addicted to anything, unless you count fast cars,” he joked.

  She didn’t laugh.

  Running his fingers through his hair, he wondered how he could explain it to her. Some things were damned hard.

  “I’ve been where you are, Ysabeau. Trying to ease someone’s pain. My wife died a few years ago. Cancer. She suffered for many, many years. There was nothing I could do.” His voice cracked. “I desperately wanted to take away her pain, but Soli hated the drugs because of what they stole from her. The Morphine and Vicodin knocked her out and robbed me of the little time I had left with my wife.”

  He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “The simplest answer I can give you is I don’t do drugs because my wife didn’t. Not until the end.”

  The simplest answer was the best he could give, even though it wasn’t the whole truth.

  “I’m sorry, Luke.” She had the strangest look on her face, as if something that had been worrying her suddenly made sense. Her gaze traveled to the top of his head and slowly around his body. He didn’t know what to make of it.

  “It’s okay. I want you to understand,” he said.

  “She is always with you. Your wife.” It was a statement, not a question.

  He nodded slowly. In his memories, in his dreams, she was there.

  “I will take care of him. I promise,” she said to the air around his head.

  Luke’s eyebrows shot up.

  “No more drugs. But you must stay here until you are better.” She put out her hand. “Deal?”