Bachelor SEAL (Sleeper SEALs Book 5)

by Sharon Hamilton

  “They don’t let us, sir.” J.J.’s hands flopped all over his lap. His friend was nervous as hell.

  J.J. was right. It was painful talking to someone who was still on a team, dying to know about missions they were going on, what was happening out there in the sandpit and the battlefields of insanity, and seeing that look in their eyes. They knew you itched for the old days, thought Morgan. Especially those who didn’t have an exciting life to lead afterwards. The active SEALs realized in a few years they’d be there, too.

  Morgan could see Lambert understood that longing for action that would always be there, inside the heart of a true SEAL. The experience of working with men who would give their all to protect you was unlike any other job that ever could be. He hadn’t appreciated that fully, until it was all over and he was out.

  “I want to defend the woman who gave me a few years of her life. All of it, at least the first part, wasn’t so unpleasant. I think partly it was my fault. I brought out the angry bitch side of her, not the side I thought I was getting. But that’s all water under the bridge. She doesn’t deserve this, Commander Lambert. No matter our differences, she’s still an innocent, like all the other innocents in this world. If I didn’t think I could be at my peak performance, if I wasn’t up to it, I wouldn’t even ask.” Morgan was satisfied with himself. It came out better than he’d expected.

  “Ask? Are you asking?” Lambert’s eyebrows rose, but all other expression was absent.

  “Yes. I’m asking. I’m telling you I’m asking.”

  J.J. started to snicker, and Morgan punched him hard in the arm, nearly sending him reeling off the chair.

  Lambert’s steely blue eyes fixated hard on Morgan again. The man was looking for cracks, holes, or lumps—anything he could sense that would override what he was about to do. Morgan knew he’d be pulling for giving him the chance. But Lambert didn’t yet know this.

  “I’m going to sleep on this. Lucky for you, there isn’t anything indicating you’ve had a problem with the law, or I’d not even consider it. I head back to Washington tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know my decision before then.”

  “Over pancakes. I like pancakes,” Morgan blurted out.

  “What the fuck—?”

  J.J. was quick to jump in. “Everything goes better with lots of syrup and butter, Commander Lambert. It’s how we do things. You’ll see. Anything you gotta say to us you can say tomorrow morning over pancakes. We go to the Scupper.”

  Lambert stood, and both Morgan and J.J. did the same. He extended his hand. “I always think a face to face meeting is best, even if it’s bad news. So if you have the balls to get really bad news with your pancakes, I guess I can stomach the Scupper. I used to hang out there myself when I was going through school here in Coronado, but I never had pancakes there.”

  On the drive back to pick up J.J.’s truck at Morgan’s house, the two discussed what they might need to get ready.

  “You’re pretty confident about his decision, aren’t you, Morgan?”

  “Come on, J.J. You know you are, too.”

  “Yes, I have to admit when we walked in there I didn’t think it was going to work. But you kept your cool.”

  “Nah. That wasn’t keeping my cool. That was telling the truth. My doing this is like giving hope to all those other guys who don’t have something to do after the Teams. We all say we’re glad we’re done, but we aren’t, are we?”

  J.J. didn’t answer, but Morgan could tell the hesitation to leave the cab of the truck signaled his agreement.

  “Every man wants to feel useful, J.J. Even when we’re disrespected. If we’re useful, life is worth living. And it’s the only way to reclaim what we experience as being gone. Because it can come back. I do believe it can come back.”

  “I sure hope you’re right, Morgan. I definitely don’t want to see Commander Lambert covered in pancakes and maple syrup, because that’s what he’ll get if he says no.”

  “So now do you see why we don’t want a Plan B? That. That thing you just described. That scene would be painful.”

  Chapter 6

  Halley awoke late. The night had been a long one, and the visions of Morgan’s ghost standing behind her in her sacred space had stirred memories she’d needed to remain buried. She also took it as a warning. Was she feeling unsafe? Is that what that dream meant?

  She stretched, preparing for a five mile run down her driveway, up the hill, and across one of the streets that bordered the hillside subdivision. It was a challenge on any morning, especially the steep hills, but today, she had the added burden of constantly glancing over her shoulder, as if someone were watching her every move. She rotated her shoulders and moved her neck from side to side, and still she couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling that followed her everywhere she went.

  Normally, she’d be looking at gardens or admiring the view of the ever-changing Bay and the way the water glistened on it. Some days, it would be bright blue, others a greenish gray. Today, nothing piqued her interest.

  When she twisted her ankle on a small rock her right foot came down on, she limped for several strides and then gave up, walking the rest of the distance to her home. Inside the front door, she locked the bottom lock, as well as the deadbolt. She never did that!

  After a quick shower, she changed into a new workout set and propped her ankle on a chair with a bag of frozen peas covering it while she ate her breakfast, once again turning on the television.

  The Sunday programs were still splashing sensational pictures and discussing the attack in Portland. She had several friends in the area, and she decided later on she’d give them a call. It was difficult to get her eyes unstuck from the horrible images plastered over and over again on the screen.

  And then it hit her. She was falling for the fear, the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her lightness, her power, was untapped this morning. She needed to meditate and find that sweet spot of confidence and possibility.

  Wow them with your unlimited ability to be brilliant and they will receive you like a conquering queen.

  She flipped off the television and vowed not to watch any news for the next week. “Time to take my own advice,” she said out loud to the kitchen. She placed her dishes in the dishwasher, poured herself another cup of coffee, and opened her laptop for a quick peek before she went into her meditation routine. The pain in her ankle was starting to subside.

  Crystal had sent a picture of her, Orestes, and their mother eating ice cream in Las Vegas after the show. Halley texted a smiley face and then was on to other messages.

  She logged into her website and was going to write a short comment in her blog, thanking the people of Los Angeles for their kindness in hosting her. Several new messages had responded to her posts from a week ago. Her topic had been the natural powers of intuition that woman possessed.

  One was disturbing.

  ‘You lead women on a path of their own destruction.’

  The comment was made with the anonymous designation so Halley could not find the messenger. It had been placed there on Friday, the day she gave her presentation at the auditorium.

  She wanted to write a response, but deleted it instead. She did answer and comment on several others who left complimentary kudos and thank you’s. Then she wrote notes to several people who had assisted with the program and the facilities planning, including the small staff she’d hired to sell her merchandise and tickets for her upcoming Summit event. She even emailed an acknowledgement to the caterers and the florist who delivered the rose petals she always had scattered on stage as her signature. The event security staff also got a personalized note. She delivered several online payments so that all the bills for the event were paid for promptly.

  By ten, there was still no message from Gibril, so she decided to begin her meditation. She lit a candle and played the background instrumental music that put her into a calm and serene place in preparation for her exercise. The large rose-colored leather chair felt delicious warming h
er seated frame as she closed her eyes and began opening herself to the universe.

  At first, she found herself in the familiar rain forest. She noticed Gibril wasn’t anywhere around. She could hear voices, but saw no one. She turned frequently, expecting to see someone approach, but she was alone with the sounds of the forest, and the muffled voices remained far enough away that the words were unclear and scrambled.

  It surprised her when she called out Gibril’s name and waited to hear it echo off the massive trees in the redwood forest. Then her mouth formed the beginning of Morgan’s name, and she was aware she was fighting her vision, holding herself back from speaking it to the forest. She was not going to allow him back into her vision—or her life.

  Before she could win the battle of wills, her ex did appear at a distance, but he turned his back, put his hands in his pockets, and slowly walked ahead of her at an easy gait she could follow. And that’s what she did.

  She watched him search the trees, look up to the sky, briefly glance around to make sure she was following, and then bend to pick up a stick littering the plank walkway. Halley kept her distance, but she found the way he carried his powerful body the same as she used to watch when they were married. He was a mass of muscle and physical torque waiting to explode with a silent veneer that masked the intensity inside. The familiar feeling she was safe when he was around did comfort her, though she had to work to remove the worry line now embedded between her eyes. She told herself she’d stop the vision if he came any closer to her.

  And then he just disappeared into the fog of the forest. One second, he had been there, and the next, just gone. She opened her eyes and then heard the chirping of her cell phone in the kitchen.

  It was Gibril. “I was wondering if you were still partying,” she teased into the phone.

  “I told you, not that kind of party. I was home early. I probably should have rung you up and insisted I come over.”

  “My shriveled body barely got itself out of the bath in time to fall asleep in bed.”

  “So you still want to take that walk and have a picnic? I took the liberty of buying some things at the deli on my way home.”

  “I’m game. But I’ve twisted my ankle, so let’s not make it too long a walk, okay? So, shall I meet you?”

  “Will you let me through your security system? I’d like to pick you up, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’d like that.”

  An hour later, Halley was sitting in Gibril’s Tesla as he barreled down the winding hill toward the valley floor. His car was made to be driven hard, but the incredible silence of the electric vehicle gave her the illusion of flying. Conversations weren’t drowned out by the gurgling and revving of a gasoline engine. Gibril negotiated the turns to perfection. She wondered if he’d had had any previous racing experience.

  They arrived at Lytton Park situated in the hills behind the Stanford campus. The lot was nearly full, but several groups of people were packing up after an early morning bike ride, and he soon found a spot.

  Gibril leaned over and surprised her with a quick kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for three days now.”

  She was going to lean into him again and say something like, “Let’s make it count,” but Gibril was already out of the car and headed for her side to escort her out. Even the way he held her hand was chaste, delicate and careful. And it was the first time she noticed his hand trembling.

  “Are you okay today, Gibril?”

  He abruptly looked up from retrieving a basket from the trunk. “What kind of foolery is ruminating around your pretty little head this morning, Halley?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged and watched him close the trunk with a delicate press of a button. The basket handle was slung over his forearm as he walked toward her. “You seem nervous.”

  Gibril gave her one of those legendary dark smiles, his perfect white teeth glowing in the sunlight of the day. “Ah, I see. Your imagination is overactive today.”

  “I call it intuition,” Halley said with firmness.

  “Whatever it is, I honor it. But the answer to your question is that I’ve been looking forward to spending some time with you. It’s been a week already. Perhaps the anticipation of our time together?” He drew his eyebrows up and curled his lower lip down as he made the silly face.

  They locked arms, and Halley pushed the thoughts out of her head as they walked through the turning leaves and lush loam that made a carpet of the park’s walking trails. The smells of fall were in the air—somewhere a fire was burning, the musty smell of crumbling bark, bright green moss, and rotting underbrush was pungent and somehow welcoming in its familiarity.

  Gibril took them up a gentle slope to a small meadow with filtered sunlight and placed the basket down at his feet. Then he spread an old bedspread out on the forest floor and motioned for her to sit down.

  He served her up a plastic container with several varieties of fresh fruit, including red seedless grapes. He had slices of quiche and an artichoke frittata and showed her the dark chocolate brownies wrapped in plastic for dessert.

  “This is all very nice,” she said as he poured her a glass of pink sparkling champagne. “You thought of everything.”

  He was leaning back on his elbow, his long legs stretched perpendicular to her. His smile could set the forest on fire. “Just being here with you is enough. It would still be perfect if I’d forgotten everything!” He held up his glass, and they toasted. “To a perfect fall day, and to us.”

  As their glasses touched, her eyes teared up at his thoughtful attentiveness. She’d missed the little intimate moments that could occur between a man and a woman. And especially in this circumstance, where the two of them came from such different worlds, the apex of their affection touched her.

  “I have some news that I think you will like.” Gibril’s voice was melodic and full of passion and mystique.

  “Oh, what?”

  “My niece is coming to your event. She wants to meet the famous Halley Hansen.”

  Halley was floored. Never had Gibril mentioned any member of his family was remotely interested in her seminars and events. And though he’d never said so, she guessed that, culturally, women in his family would usually not be interested in her message.

  “That’s fantastic, Gibril. She lives here in the Bay Area?”

  “She wants to go to Stanford. Yes, she wants to live here.” Gibril let his head bob from side to side, “But her grades may not be quite good enough. I reminded her of what you say all the time…”

  “‘You never know if you don’t try,’” they both said in unison.

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s nineteen. Very pretty. Very modern. In my culture, she’s nearly an old maid. Her younger sister is getting married next summer.”

  “Well, I highly approve,” Halley said. “You must bring her to the stage afterwards, or perhaps she can join us for dinner? And thank you for encouraging her.”

  “Believe me, I did very little. She bought her ticket with her own money. This is also not something we are used to in our family.”

  “I know. I’ve spoken to girls’ schools about this. In some religious families, they are not allowed to handle money. I think that’s backward, Gibril.” She plucked a few more grapes and enjoyed their juice.

  Again, the sensation crept upon her and she quickly glanced around them to see if someone was nearby, and found no one.

  “You saw something?” he asked.

  “I’ve just been having this awful feeling lately. Jitters.”

  “Ah, so you projected onto me the jitters in your own stomach.” He winked and sipped his champagne.

  He was the handsomest, most cultured man she’d ever spent time with. Even when she’d done her modeling in high school and college and her brief and tumultuous foray into acting as a young starlet in her early twenties, the male models and other people she’d worked with didn’t have the dignity, the bearing, and the charisma Gibril had. His manli
ness was gentle and refined, and soon, she completely forgot her fear of being watched.

  She finished her glass and laid it down on the spread before scooting over closer to him, leaning forward and covering his mouth with hers. The sensuous lemon scent of his smooth face and the curly dark hair she loved running her fingers through were unnecessary enhancements. In that moment, she had surrendered completely to him.

  But he separated, held out his arms, and twisted her body so that they lay side by side, facing each other on the cotton fabric. His forefinger traced the length of her nose. “Do you think about what it might be like to have children, Halley?”

  “Children?” She hid her surprise well since Gibril didn’t react. Inside, Halley’s gut was doing flip-flops.

  “You must have thought about it. Most women do,” he persisted, following up with a soft kiss.

  This was the fork in the road where she fully grasped how she was different than most women—which was a term she despised. The thought had never really crossed her mind. It was something she knew would only come with the right man at her side, if at all.

  “You look troubled, Halley. Have I upset you?”

  “No, Gibril.” She rolled over on her back and looked at the blue sky peeking between the golden canopy above. “I have never sat and longed for that day. That’s not how I’m wired. I want what I’m doing now.” She rolled back to face him again. “Does that make me a terrible person? And you should be honest with me here. This is one of those times that require complete honesty. Don’t sugar-coat it.”

  His smile was hesitant; his eyes sparkled, but didn’t match the smile. She knew she wasn’t getting the truth from him. “No, my dear. I could never think of you as a terrible person. I think it’s a question of timing for you.”

  Halley sat up and hugged her knees. Something was beginning to bother her, and she knew discretion was necessary. Her words needed to be sparse, to the point, and unflinching but not too cold. The dreamy, easy fantasy of the afternoon had dissipated somewhat.