Whiskey Tribute: A Trident Security Series Novella - Book 5.5

by Samantha A. Cole

  “Are you sure?” Ian asked. “We can throw him in a bed at the hotel. No big deal.”

  Shaking her head, she glanced over at the man in question. “No. It’s okay. Bring him to the house. He’s staying the rest of the week to help me with all the paperwork with the V.A. and other stuff. You can pick Jenn up, then, and bring her back to the hotel.”

  “We’ll take good care of him. I promise. And if you need anything, you have most of our numbers, right?”

  “I do.” She swallowed a sob that wanted to burst forth. “Thanks…for everything. I…I couldn’t have gotten through this without all of you here.”

  Ian pulled her into a full hug, wrapping both arms around her. “That’s what we’re here for, sweetheart. Eric was a brother and we take care of our own.”

  “I know you do.”

  Chapter 8

  It had been a long day, and it was far from over. Curt hoisted five-year-old Amanda up into his arms when she came over to him while he was talking to Polo. As she rested her head on his shoulder, he told his friend about Eric’s last phone call. “It sucks. I missed his freaking call and by the time I got the voice mail, it was too late. His cell had been in his pocket and was smashed. That’s why we couldn’t ping it. The weird thing is, he sounded worried about something.”

  Marco took a swig of his beer. “What’d he say?”

  “Just that he really needed to talk to me and to call back as soon as I could. Dana doesn’t know what it was about. I don’t know…maybe I’m trying to figure out why it happened. It was probably some effing drunk…”

  “Uncle Curtsy? What does effwing mean?”

  Rolling his eyes as Marco chuckled, Curt gave Amanda a squeeze before setting her on her feet once more. “Nothing, sweetie. I think Jenn is looking for you over there.” He pointed to where the young woman was gathering the children’s jackets and Amanda’s coloring book. “Why don’t you go help her, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He watched as she skipped away, then spotted Dana who was making her way over to him. When she reached him, he put his arm around her. “Everyone is starting to head out. Do you want to go to? I’ll start saying my goodbyes real quick and then drive you home.”

  Placing her hands on his broad chest, she shook her head. “No. You stay here with the boys.” He opened his mouth to argue with her, but she cut him off with a few taps to the medals over his heart. “I know you all have another toast to do. Jenn is coming back with me along with my mom and Eric’s parents. I asked Ian to drive you back later and then he could pick up Jenn. I’ll be fine.”

  He let out a heavy breath and realized he was surrounded by the Trident Security group and a few others in full uniform. Not only were his former teammates here for Dana…and Eric…they were here for him too. Ian nodded at him. “She’s right. We have another toast to do, and that one is all yours, my friend. Let’s get drunk and rowdy and have some laughs in Wabbit’s honor. He wouldn’t expect anything less from us, and you know it. Since Dev doesn’t drink, he’s going to make sure everyone gets home safe later.”

  Swallowing the lump in his throat, his gaze returned to Dana. “I still have the keys to Eric’s truck in my pocket and the house key is on it, so lock up if we’re not back by the time everyone goes to bed. Tell Jenn to crash on the couch, if she wants until we get there.”

  “Got it covered, Elmer.” He smiled because it was rare she used his call sign. “I’ll leave a few bottles of water and some Tylenol on the coffee table. Take them before you pass out.”

  That was Dana. Always making sure everyone else was taken care of…especially him. He hoped someday soon he found a woman who was just like her, because when he did, he’d make that woman his wife.

  Fifteen minutes later, the pub owner turned on the lights to a small party room in the back of the restaurant for the SEALs to continue the celebration of their buddy’s life. They would be out of the way, and view, of the dinner crowd which would start filing in soon. Ian had arranged for the daytime bartender to stay on. A little corner bar in the room was stocked with a variety of different beers on ice and about a two dozen bottles of Jameson’s. They would need at least that much for the fifty or so retired and active SEALs present. A few wall mounted TVs were turned on to several sports games with the volumes off. Music was piped in from the main bar area, but it was low enough to just be background noise.

  As the shots of whiskey were being passed around once more, Curt focused on what he was going to say for the toast. The first one had been devoid of vulgarities, as clean as an admiral’s dress whites, for the sake of the family and children. However, this one was for the men who had trained, sweat, and fought side by side with their fallen brother—cursing wasn’t only expected, it was a requirement.

  Once everyone had their whiskey, they turned to face Eric Prichard’s best friend. All backs in the room were ram-rod straight and each set of shoulders squared in honor of every drop of blood shed. Curt had to clear his throat several times. There was a reason, aside from the cursing, why this toast was done in private—tears were sure to flow and men like them preferred not to cry in public.

  Taking a deep breath, Curt lifted his glass high above his head. His gaze was on the ceiling as he spoke to Eric in the great beyond. “Wabbit, you son of a bitch. We walked through hell together, and blew fucking smoke up the devil’s ass. We rocked a lot of women’s worlds and a lot of their beds, too. Big tits, small tits, we squeezed them all, my friend. But then you met your beautiful wife and, not long after, your kids came along. Your brothers will lay down their fucking lives for your family, so rest assured we still have your six. Hang tight, brother Wabbit, until we meet again. Then we’ll all let fucking loose and blow smoke up a few angels’ skirts. Hoo-yah!”

  “Hoo-yah!”

  * * *

  Present

  “They’re here!” Justin shouted as the three packed SUVs pulled into the drive. He ran from where he and the other boys had been waiting in a section of the backyard, where they could see the vehicles come down the road, to the front of the house. His five other friends, plus the birthday boy, Connor, were hot on his heels. While the kid’s limp was noticeable, he had spunk and tried not to let it limit him.

  Curt did a final scan of the makeshift training area in and around the barn, then slapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Thanks for the help. You did a great job.”

  The boy grinned with pride at him. “It was fun. I can’t wait to shoot some tangos.”

  They had spent most of yesterday and the entire morning setting up bales of hay, which Curt had arranged to be delivered, and other objects to make places to hide behind and use as cover while searching for the bad guy. Pete Archer and Steve Romanelli had flown in early yesterday morning to help, since the Trident team hadn’t been able to take off from Tampa before seven p.m. last night, due to a few things that couldn’t be rescheduled. They had all gone straight to the hotel when they arrived and Curt had met them there for a quick beer.

  The other men and he wandered out to the front yard. The Trident team had brought plenty of toys for the day of SEAL games. Obviously, none of the weapons were real, but they were incredible simulation training tools. It would be a cross between high-tech laser tag and real life war games.

  Ian climbed out of the driver’s seat of the first vehicle as everyone else scrambled out. His fiancée, Angie, stepped forward and gave Curt a hello kiss on the cheek. Glancing around, he greeted everyone else who had come—Devon and his wife, Kristen, whose baby bump had started to show. Boomer and his girlfriend, Kat. Brody was solo this time. Ian and Devon’s cousin Mitch was there, along with Charlotte Roth, a.k.a. Mistress China from the BDSM club the cousins owned. While not involved in the security business, the two were attending the wedding as well, and Curt had invited them to the party with everyone else.

  Marco was the last one Curt spotted and he had his arm around his woman, Harper. Yeah, that had been a shock. The day after they’d had that conversation
back in January when Marco had repeated his old mantra about never having a wife and kids, the guy’s life had flipped upside down. He’d found out he was the father of Harper’s little girl, who had been born at the end of last summer. Because of some whack job’s interference, Marco hadn’t known about his daughter, and Harper had been led to believe he wanted nothing to do with either of them. Curt was glad to see everything had worked out between them because he couldn’t remember ever seeing Polo so happy. From what Curt had been told last night, little Mara was home being babysat by Harper’s mother and Jenn Mullins, who was also dog sitting Parker and Shelby’s dog, Spanky. The twenty-year-old had a big exam coming up during the week in one of her classes at University of Tampa, and she wouldn’t have been able to enter the casinos anyway, so she’d opted to stay home.

  After the men greeted the children, who were in awe of being surrounded by U.S. Navy SEALS, they unloaded all the gear and carried it to the backyard. The women had zeroed in on Dana since this was the first time they were meeting her in person. Curt hadn’t realized how close they’d all gotten to her via Facebook. Bringing them to where picnic tables had been set up just off the back porch, she introduced them to several of her friends who’d come to help with the party.

  As Curt grabbed one of the last duffel bags, another SUV pulled in. This one had a light bar on the roof and ‘Caution—Police K9’ on the rear windows. Both front doors opened and Phil Olsen hopped out of the passenger seat. The driver was the Sheriff Department’s K9 handler, Sean Kilduff, who had volunteered to bring his dog, Kilo, and give the kids a show of what his partner could do. Phil would be donning the protective attack suit for the demonstration.

  Once everything was set up, Ian handed out Team Four T-shirts and baseball caps to all the kids, including little Amanda and her friend Nellie. The birthday boy, Connor, was grinning ear-to-ear as he put them on. Then the men took some of the grease paint they’d brought, and smeared it on the youngsters’ faces, with their parents’ permission of course. Might as well go all out and make the kids feel like they were really on a secret mission.

  Brody was off to the side helping Boomer get into his high-tech gear to be the bad guy. The jumpsuit and ski mask he was putting on would register any hits from the laser guns. Each weapon showed up in a different color, so they could tell who hit where. Back at the Trident compound, they had a hollowed out building with movable interior walls to change the setup. The walls, ceiling, and floors were coated with special black paint which would show the heat from the laser shots for about fifteen minutes until fading away. It was all really cool, and Curt loved joining the team for some training runs every now and then.

  Grabbing Amanda, and then Nellie, under the arms, he hoisted them up on the bed of Eric’s pickup truck, which they’d used to bring all the bales of hay into the backyard. “All right, gang! Listen up!” He made sure he had all the kids’ attention. There were eleven in total—the two girls, Ryan, Taylor, Justin, Connor, and the five other boys. Curt pointed at Ian dressed in his black cargo pants, boots, and a grey T-shirt. “That man right there? He’s your commander. You can call him Lieutenant, Boss-man, or sir. You will listen to everything he says and you will follow his orders. Give him a big ‘yes, sir’.”

  Grinning, the kids all shouted, “Yes, sir!”

  Ian clapped his hands together, then waved everyone into a huddle which included the back of the pickup so the girls didn’t have to get down. “All right, team. First, we’re going to talk safety. It’s extremely important in combat. Number one—you always point the muzzle of your gun at the ground until you’re given the go order.”

  “How come?” one of the boys asked. Curt couldn’t remember his name at the moment. “You said they don’t have bullets in them.”

  “That’s right.” Ian pointed at the youngster. “Good question. We train that way because sometimes we use real weapons and sometimes we use the fake ones. You don’t ever want to mistake one for the other in the heat of the moment, so you treat every gun as if it’s the real thing. You never aim a gun, fake or real, at anyone you don’t intend to shoot. Got it?”

  The boy nodded. “Yup.”

  “Okay. Next. Our bad guy, or tango, over there…” He tilted his head toward Boomer. “…is going to hide somewhere in the barn. If it’s not your turn, no giving away the tango’s location if you saw where he went. That’s poor sportsmanship. Whoever’s turn it is, you’re going to team up with Elmer here. He’ll walk right behind you and point out where you need to go. When you see your target, aim and shoot. Got it?”

  The kids shouted in unison, “Got it!”

  Taylor raised his hand. “Lieutenant Ian, who goes first?”

  Taking the ball cap Urkel handed him, Ian showed them it was filled with folded pieces of paper. “Since it’s Connor’s birthday, he gets to go first. Everyone else will go in the order their names are pulled. Fair enough?” They agreed. “Okay. Hand signals.” He held his fist at shoulder height. “This means stop and stay where you are. No talking until you’re given the all clear. I’ll point where I want you to go. We’ll keep it simple with those two signals. Elmer, get Connor ready. The rest of you can watch from the door on the other side of the barn or up in the loft, so you’re out of the way, but can still see everything. And remember…no giving away the tango’s location.”

  While the other kids scrambled to get a good observation spot, Curt gave Connor a crash course on how the gun worked. It was pretty simple—there was a safety switch, sights, and a trigger. If it wasn’t for the fact it was painted red for safety reasons, the assault rifle looked and felt like the real thing. Because the boy’s arms weren’t long enough for the stock to rest against his shoulder, Curt instructed him how to hold it, point, and shoot.

  When everyone was set, a four-man team consisting of Connor, Ian, Urkel, and Brody closed in on the target building, using trees and the bales of hay for protection as they leap-frogged forward. Curt coached the boy on how to cover his teammates when they were moving out in the open. The team waited patiently as Connor limped from spot to spot. Soon they reached the large opened barn door with Connor, Curt, and Urkel on one side of the door frame and Ian and Brody on the other side. Ian signaled Egghead to enter and provide cover for the others. He then pointed with his finger for the birthday boy to enter and search for the tango.

  With Curt’s hand on his shoulder guiding him, Connor moved from stall to stall searching for the tango. He found Boomer hiding in the third one on the left and fired his weapon. Of course, the former SEAL had to get dramatic, clutching his chest and performing one of the worst death scenes ever. Cheering, Connor’s teammates high-fived him, and the kid was on cloud nine. This is why the men loved to do shit like this with children…to see that mile-wide smile.

  One by one, the kids took their turns on the search and destroy mission. Even the deputies, Phil and Sean, took turns, then the former suited up in the attack suit and they gave everyone a show of Kilo’s abilities as an aggressive tracking dog. After he’d taken the ‘bad guy’ down, the K9 was rewarded with his favorite Kong toy. It always amazed Curt how dogs trained for military and law enforcement could switch their aggressiveness on and off with a verbal command. When Kilo wasn’t working, the big Belgian Malinois was a mush, just like Trident’s trained dog, Beau. That dog loved his large, human family, which was steadily growing.

  By three p.m., the Trident team and their women and friends were all packed and they said their goodbyes before heading to the airport. Curt handed out the SEAL Team Four bronze challenge coins he’d brought with him for the kids. They were collectors’ items, and the only way you could get one was from a current or retired member of the team. Challenge coins got their start in the Air Force during WWI. A wealthy pilot had some made for his squadron as a token of their service. Over the years, the idea spread and they were now very popular throughout the service. Some were easier to get than others.

  After making sure everything was cleaned up,
Urkel and Pete headed back to their hotel. They told Curt if he wanted to join them they were going to go the pub where Eric’s repast had been for a few beers and dinner. He declined, but made plans for them to come back to Dana’s for breakfast before heading to the airport for their own flights home. One to Colorado, the other to Florida.

  The rest of the parents attending, mostly women, had helped clean up the food, cake, and birthday decorations and they all thanked Curt for making the arrangements for a party their kids would never forget. Connor and his mother, Susan, were the last to leave. The boy threw his arms around Curt’s waist until he squatted down so they were eye to eye. “Did you have a good time?”

  “It was the best! I can’t wait to tell everyone at school I was a SEAL for my birthday!”

  Curt ruffled the boy’s hair. “And you have the pictures to prove it.” The Trident team usually avoided pictures, which might end up on the internet, for security reasons. But with the black grease paint and the brims of their ball caps pulled low to obscure their faces, they had joined in the group photo. After the pictures were taken, they’d all cleaned off their faces with baby-wipes.

  When he stood again, Susan stepped forward and hugged him as well. “I don’t know how I can convey how much this meant to both of us. You’re an angel.”

  Blushing, he glanced over to where Dana was watching and gave her a wink. He then took a step back and grinned at Susan. “I think I know a few terrorists who will disagree with you, but I’m glad we were able to make Connor’s birthday special for him.”

  “Oh, you did! Not sure how I’m going to top this next year, though.” They both laughed and then the woman led Connor and Justin, who was going with them for a sleepover, to her car.

  Dana stepped over to where Curt was waving goodbye as they drove away. She gave him a teasing hip check. He chuckled then gave her one in return.

  “Ya know, Elmer? Ya done good.”