“Well there’s our newest frogman. How you doin’ there, fella?” He let the baby grab onto his forefinger. “Wow, he’s strong. Been working out at Gunny’s?”
“Yeah. He’s going for everything these days. Started pulling himself up at six months,” Kyle answered.
Armando looked at the frog statue behind his LPO. The replacement one for the first replacement. The green color was off.
“So, what can I do you for?” Timmons asked.
“Was wondering if you know where we’re doing our training.”
“Afghanistan.”
“No shit? No way, Timmons.” Kyle was livid.
“Just messing with you. Looks like the Nevada desert. Doing some coordination with the drone druids, and we got a new 50-cal we’re trying out.”
“That’s a shame,” Kyle said. “Was hoping for Mexico.”
“Be patient, my man. It’s kinda ugly, but Nevada has its perks.”
The baby was beginning to squeal, so Kyle unstrapped him and hiked him over his left shoulder. Armando could smell the full diaper Kyle hadn’t noticed.
“Well, that’s just too damned bad. Can I tell some of the guys?” Kyle hitched the squirming Brandon a little higher. It was too high.
Brandon reached for, and got, the frog statue by the thigh. Before Kyle could rescue the Team mascot, purchased in honor of Timmons on occasion of their graduation from BUD/S, and replaced now twice, the statue went crashing to the floor. Shards of bright green glass scattered everywhere.
Brandon knew he’d done something wrong and stared into the face of his father without moving a muscle. He put one finger in his mouth.
No one said a word.
The poker party was just the kind of thing Armando needed. Fredo’s apartment already smelled of cigars, sweat and beer by the time he and Kyle arrived. Gunny was having a serious discussion in the kitchen with his son, the kind of discussion a man wasn’t supposed to overhear, but both Kyle and Armando knew it was advice about women.
Kyle leaned closer. “Does he not realize he’s talking to the son of the woman he knocked up?”
“You know how Gunny is. I’d say he’s trying to make up for the years he doesn’t have left.”
Kyle looked down at Brandon, who was now fast asleep, having received a change of diaper and a full bottle. “I could never do that, man. Abandon my kid.”
“Those were different times, my friend. Gunny knew he’d never settle down and get domestic. He knew the Marines were his family. And we are his offspring. I can’t think of where I’d be if he hadn’t driven my ass home some of those early days.”
“That’s for sure,” Kyle agreed.
“Besides, I think the kid grew up just fine. Probably better with her than with Gunny. Can you see that old fart getting old in Thailand?”
They both laughed.
Armando thought about all the dirty ports and third-world countries Gunny had waded through in his quest to find exotic love and bury his demons. The sea was a good place for burying things. Deep and cold, it never gave back what it was given. God bless the old fart, Armando thought. All he wanted was a little excitement, some loving arms and a warm smile. Gunny’s needs were simple. Maybe like his own.
If he hadn’t made it into the SEAL Brotherhood, would he have done regular Navy and traveled those same ports looking for pieces of himself all over the world?
Armando knew the wharf in San Diego where the nice yachts were moored. He imagined the collection of million-dollar vessels that occasionally cavorted with their Navy boats out on maneuvers. He’d seen the smart attire of the rich and famous as they pretended to get out in nature’s elements while they did dives and long swims in the oily waters of the bay.
It was also the favorite place to dump a stolen car, or what was left of it after it had been stripped. Growing up, he’d known that life was not what he wanted, but he hadn’t yet learned what he did want. He’d take dates to the pier to watch the sun set and pretend he was one of those rich boys who commanded their father’s yachts.
Then he discovered soccer. He even toyed with pursuing a professional career, but didn’t have the money for the private lessons he needed to make a top team and get noticed by college coaches. His grades were good, but not exceptional, so the chances of getting a college scholarship were nonexistent.
Then one day he had a talk with the Navy recruiter who came to his high school and from that day on, all he wanted was to be a SEAL.
He thought about the string of warehouses they’d used a time or two when it was a big thing to steal a fifth of Jack Daniels and spend the night getting drunk and attempting to get laid. At fourteen, his prospects were slim, but the ladies liked him anyhow, and if he was drunk it didn’t matter how old they were or if they weren’t very pretty.
Thank God I found the Navy. He’d been a good swimmer in Puerto Rico, and someone had suggested the swim team in high school. He could out-swim everybody, but he would never show up for practice, so he was booted off the team. Soccer became his new passion, and half the guys never showed up for that, either, since most of their players had part time jobs after school, so it worked for him. He began to feel the pride of playing on a winning team, and saw himself with more of a future. Stealing cars and getting into trouble didn’t have the pull it had before.
But swimming got him noticed in BUD/S, and helped make him a SEAL. He’d finally found something he could do all day long and not regret it the next day. He could work like a dog and get up again the next day and want to do it all over again. Being a SEAL was something he truly was made for.
“And where the fuck have you been?” Kyle asked.
Armando shrugged. The card game was stalled, waiting for his response. He didn’t like all the bloodshot eyes peering into his private thoughts.
“Anyone tell you thinking about things is dangerous?” Fredo added like the Father Confessor he tried so hard to be.
“Thanks, Fredo. Glad you got my back,” he answered as he threw down his worthless hand.
Just then, several retired SEALs entered the apartment. The testosterone level was threatening to blow the place up, Armando thought. Winning at poker wasn’t as important as when you left the party. You were a pansy if you left first, especially if it was because you had a date.
Armando wouldn’t have that problem tonight.
Just as Armando had predicted, Sanouk displayed an uncanny knack for playing poker, and winning. The more shit-faced the Team guys got, the more he won. Fredo took a drink of the young Thai’s vodka collins, and discovered it was mostly collins.
He had faked his way into picking up some enormous pots when the rest of the guys thought he was too inexperienced. The lesson was painful in terms of pride and costly in terms of nickels. They never bet big stakes, unless they were in Vegas. Somehow the idea of losing to a casino wasn’t as abhorrent as losing to one of your buds. No one wanted to be the one to make it so a Team guy couldn’t pay his rent.
Kyle had put Brandon to bed in Fredo’s only bedroom. Gunny was passed out in Fredo’s lounger. He’d been watching some nudie flick on the VCR. The film had allowed Sanouk to sneak peeks while the guys were distracted. It was important for the men to make comments about the size of the actor’s dicks and the skanky girls with mullet hairstyles. The reddish cast to the films indicated they were nearly a generation old.
“Fredo, you get these at a Mexican garage sale or something?”
“No. If they came from there, they’d be in Spanish, or didn’t you notice?” Fredo quipped back. His eyebrows scrunched in a serious cluster, resembling a giant tarantula.
“Well, you do know they make some really nice ones now, all artsy. They touch them up,” one of the older guys commented.
“I like these just fine. They get to it. I don’t want to be teased. I want to see it happen. In gory detail,” Fredo answered, unmoved by the comment.
Armando laughed. “If it puts Gunny to sleep, that should tell you something, Fredo.”
“Each to his own taste, I say.”
“There it is,” Beale commented. “The professor of sex.”
Fredo was mumbling to himself when Sanouk declared himself the winner of the largest pot of the evening. Since it was midnight, everyone mutually agreed it was time to go home. Everyone left except the five from Team 3.
Kyle peeled Brandon from Fredo’s bed and the baby took one look at the room full of SEALs and ex-SEALs and lay back down against his daddy’s chest, falling asleep again.
“Since Coop’s not here, who’s not drunk?” Mark asked. Cooper was usually the designated driver since he consumed no alcohol.
No one raised their hand, but everyone looked in Sanouk’s direction.
“You got a driver’s license, kid?” Armando asked. “You can drive my Hummer, but you’ll have to walk from my place.”
“Yes. My license is good here for thirty days.”
“Armani, everyone lives around here. Why don’t you have him drop you off at Mia’s? He can come back here to crash and go home in the morning with Gunny, unless the old guy wakes up,” Fredo said.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Mia’s house was fully lit. Armando could hear the music inside before he got his door open. He turned to Sanouk with a word of caution, “Don’t fuck up my car or I’ll have you on the next plane to Thailand, hear?”
“Yessir, Mr. Armani. I’ll be most extremely careful of your vehicle. You need not worry.”
“He’s good,” Jones chimed in
“Keep the keys with you. I have a spare set hidden on the truck,” he said to Sanouk.
“No problem.”
Armando said his goodbyes and headed up Mia’s walkway. He figured his mother had been coming over lately, because there was a nice collection of bright dahlias blooming in the front yard. He heard Mia speaking with someone else in the house. A female voice.
Gina.
That was unfortunate. He looked down the street to try to flag the boys down, but they were already nearly out of sight. Instead of walking in or knocking like he usually did, he rang the doorbell.
Mia swung the door open. She was dressed in a pair of skin-tight pants and a big shirt. Her hair was atop her head in a rhinestone-encrusted clip. Armando heard the music turned down and saw Gina in the distance.
“Now what?” Mia said to him.
“I need a place to crash.”
“Something wrong with your place?”
“I’m a little drunk. Was looking for a place closer by.”
“Then call a taxi. You’re not welcome here, right, Gina?”
“Sorry to bother you. I’ll just—”
“Oh, it’s okay. Let him in,” Gina said from inside the room.
Mia pulled the door open wider and allowed him to enter. “You just can’t seem to leave me alone for one night. You gotta come meddling again. You insult my friends, try to tell me who I can and can’t date…” Mia began, picking up steam for a rant.
Mia’s chattering was background white noise. Armando had locked on Gina’s eyes and wouldn’t let go. She was trying to avoid him, but each time their eyes found each other, there were sparks Armando could not deny. He wanted her in the worst way, even though he knew it was unwise.
Mia left to attend to Ricardo, who was crying in the back bedroom.
“You want a glass of water or a soda?” Gina asked.
“Sure. Water would be perfect.”
He followed her to the little kitchen and leaned against the countertop while she got a glass down and filled it with cold water from the fridge. He could stand there and watch her all night.
“Didn’t see your car out front,” he said.
“Yea, well, that’s a long story.” She handed him the cool glass.
He sipped his water and enjoyed the view as Gina went back to the sink and rinsed some dishes. “My car’s in the shop. I had an accident shortly after I left you at the beach.”
Armando stiffened, set down his water glass and crossed the room to be at her side. “You sure you’re okay?”
Gina looked at the ceiling and exhaled. “I’m fine. It’s been one hell of a day.”
“What happened?” He grabbed her right arm, drawing her into him. She seemed to dissolve into his chest. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she began to cry. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said as he stroked the back of her head while she sobbed.
“Well this is a pretty picture,” Armando heard Mia’s words behind him.
Gina abruptly pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t sweat it, Mia. My fault entirely.”
Armando was grateful for the minute of space Mia gave them. She didn’t react, but stood watching them carefully.
“Okay. So, I think I should call a taxi,” Gina said as she brushed the hair from her face.
“I’d offer to take you, but I was dropped off,” Armando said.
“Where’s your car?” she asked, frowning.
“Sanouk has it, along with several of the Team guys. I’m in no shape to drive tonight,” he said.
“Sanouk? Who’s he?” Mia asked.
“Gunny’s son,” said Armando. “Came all the way from Thailand to meet him.”
“And you just gave this guy the keys to your Hummer?” Mia gave him the what-were-you-thinking look. “Gina, he wouldn’t even let me take it to the store when he first got it. And now he lets a strange kid take it…”
“He’s not just a strange kid. His English is better than most grunts on base.” Armando added, “Besides, Marky and Jones are with him. They wouldn’t have let me drive. I’d never make it home.”
“That makes two of us,” Gina said.
“Gina stay,” Mia pleaded. “Stay here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll get your car stuff handled. I’ll take you to work if you want.”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll rent something in the morning.” She opened her purse, extracting her cell phone. Armando could not miss the snub-nosed .38 tucked neatly to the side, and it worried him.
After Gina called the cab they sat. Mia went into the kitchen.
“You’re packing tonight.”
“Yes. I always do these days.”
“Except that it’s illegal here. You know that.”
“I have a permit.” Her eyes were unflinching.
“You want to explain that?”
“Nope. None of your business.”
“You bring a gun into this house, in front of my sister and my nephew, and it’s none of my business? How dumb do you think I am?”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“So a lot of things aren’t what I think. Like your ex. He isn’t really your ex, is he? You just cheated on him with me. He’s still your guy.”
“He is not my guy.”
“Well he thinks he is. I can recognize that.”
Mia came flying out of the kitchen. “Stop it, both of you. You’ll wake the baby. And when that taxi comes, Armando, it’s yours. I want my privacy, got that? I told you earlier I don’t want you coming around unannounced, harassing me, my friends.”
Armando thought about revealing to his sister what he’d learned about Gina, but he decided not to. When they heard the honk of the taxi in front, he quickly turned to Gina.
“I want a quick word.” He nodded to his sister. “In private.”
Mia’s eyes got huge. “What the fuck’s going on?”
Armando grabbed Gina by the arm and pulled her outside on the front stoop. He motioned to the taxi driver to wait.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking. I will not leave while that gun is in my sister’s home.”
The standoff was as electric as their embrace in the kitchen. Her face shone in the moonlight, lips moist and pouting. Her defiance of him turned him on. His hard-on was painful and made absolutely no sense.
“Then you’re coming with me. We share the taxi. No way I’m leaving you here with that weapon, and I don’t care how many s
tories you tell me.” His voice was husky with need. He could see she was in complete shock, bristling under the command he’d given her. He turned, jogging back to the front door to explain to his sister he was taking Gina home.
It gave Gina just enough time to get in the taxi and take off.
“You’re losing your touch, brother,” Mia said as she leaned against the doorway. “Now you’re scaring them off.”
“I always scare them off.” Armando whispered as he watched the taxi barrel down the street.
It was the right thing to do, of course, but the pit of her stomach clenched and Gina thought she might vomit. The cabby was looking at her with a scowl in the rear view mirror.
“You sure you’re okay, miss?”
“I’m fine,” she said, which was a total lie.
There was no denying the chemistry between them. Even now, with all the obstacles that separated them, she could feel her heart trying to claw its way out of her chest, trying somehow to crawl back to him like she was tethered.
I’m blowing it. I’m blowing the whole operation. She was supposed to be getting information about Carlos and what remained of the Scorpion gang who were responsible for a significant number of crimes involving guns, drugs and girls. With Caesar in prison, the operation was to get Carlos and his lieutenants before they had a chance to organize and beef up their security
She wasn’t doing anything she should not be doing, but she’d not been spending as much time on her job as she should have, and walked the line between wanting to tell Armando the truth to gain his trust and help, or just breaking off their relationship completely. Problem was, if she had to go through Mia to get to Carlos, that meant the SEAL was going to be right next to her. It was too close.
Maybe her involvement with Sam had so infected her moral compass and shaken her so much, she would never be good at any of this undercover work. She could not reel in her emotions. She was making way too many mistakes.
If I’m not careful, someone could get killed.
SEAL Under Covers (SEAL Brotherhood #3) Page 10