Blue_SEAL Team Alpha

by Zoe Dawson

  She locked her jaw together, trying to contain the emotions that were churning around in her chest. If she didn’t do this, she would forever be locked into this tragedy, never able to get past it, never able to trust and be whole.

  She went back to the horrible, terrifying turbulence after the gulls had ruptured the engines. The sounds of her mom and sister, how hard they had grasped hands. The frantic, protective look in her father’s eyes, then the helplessness of something beyond his control.

  “It was a malfunction with the Cessna we were flying in. A flock of seagulls took out both engines, and we crash landed in the Pacific Ocean far from land.”

  Charlie leaned hard against him and closed her eyes. Her lungs refused to function as he held her tighter, the warmth of his body enveloping her, giving her what she needed to breathe. He cupped his hand along her jaw, his fingers catching in her hair as he brushed an infinitely gentle kiss against her temple. Feeling almost drugged, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He held her gaze for a second, his expression taut; then he released his breath on an uneven sigh, his hand trailing down her neck.

  Feeling as if every nerve in her body was exposed and trembling, Charlie closed her eyes again, trying to swallow the frantic pulse in her throat.

  Everything she’d felt and buried rose up in her: the fear, the pain of her injuries, the hopelessness of their situation, watching them die one by one until only she’d been left alone, so alone.

  The sheer fear of the ocean as it washed under her, tossing her around inside the small raft.

  “The pilots died on impact, but we were trained for a water landing, and I knew what to do, where the raft and supplies were. I was the only one conscious when I woke up and found us floating on the surface, water rushing in. I was so, so scared.” Her voice caught. “There was so much blood. I had hit my head and it was bleeding, but I went to the door and opened it before it was too late for us to get out, found the raft and the supplies, and pulled the cord to inflate it, stacked everything inside. Water, flares, the GPS tracker, food, everything I could find. By then, my dad was awake, and my mom. My sister was still unconscious.” She paused, her voice almost a whisper. “That’s when the plane started to sink, and we all had to frantically jump into the water. There was a point when I was below my family and everyone was above me. It was surreal, all of us floating. We all worked to get my sister into the raft first, then one by one, we moved into the raft as the abandoned plane sank completely.”

  She cherished the physical contact with him, needing it so badly to get through something she hadn’t talked about in twelve years and not fully even then with a therapist who had tried to help her. She gritted her teeth, trying to navigate through all the emotions her memories caused.

  “When the shark showed up, blood in the water attracting it, we tried to remain calm, but it was so large. A great white I think. That’s when I noticed the blood in the raft. It was from my dad’s injury, and even when we tried to stem the flow, it had soaked through everything. He realized his femoral had been nicked, and it was only a matter of time before he bled to death as my mom and I watched. There was nothing we could do except bury him at sea.” She shuddered remembering his last moments. Blue rocked her gently. “He was conscious toward the end and he told me how much he loved me, for me to take good care of my mom and sister.” Her face contorted as the memory of his death scored her deep inside. The tears she’d tried to hold back slipped down her cheeks. “My little sister never woke up. She died the third day. My mom and I buried her at sea as well. Little did my dad know that my mom’s head injury was more severe than we thought. She slipped into a coma, then woke only briefly to demand that I hold on and survive. Then she died in my arms. I buried her at sea, too.”

  “Jesus, Charlie,” Blue murmured, his ribcage expanding with a shaky sigh. He cradled her head securely against him, then kissed the curve of her neck, his mouth moist and warm against her skin. “I’m so sorry.”

  His brief words meant so much to her, filled with his heartfelt sympathy. It felt good to have him here as she faced the terrible loss that had ghosted her for years, releasing the pain and grief she had retained for so long.

  “After that, it was a blur. I drifted for a long time. I have no idea how long. The GPS stopped working and the food and water started to dwindle until I had only one bottle of water left. I knew when the water was gone, I was going to be in serious trouble.” She swallowed around the remembered panic. The hopelessness of her situation had hit her hard then. “I was sure I was going to die.”

  His voice was textured with tenderness as he whispered against her ear. “Tell me everything.”

  Drawing a deep, stabilizing breath, Charlie tightened her arms around his shoulders, her voice uneven when she answered. “I heard the sea crashing around me, then the sound of a really loud horn. I looked out of the raft’s protective covering and there she was, the USS Discovery, a navy salvage ship.” Her eyes filled with tears, and the grief that had been trapped tore from her in a long, agonized cry. She pushed away from him and stumbled out of bed, trying to outrun the memories of losing her family. She’d vowed to overcome the ocean, to master it, and that’s what she had done. She navigated the deep and vast ocean like it was her own backyard.

  She ran into the living room and just stood there, her chest heaving in her pain. She collapsed to the floor as Blue gathered her against him, their naked bodies pressing hard, the comfort of him almost more than she could bear.

  “You survived, Charlie,” he said as her sobs of agony cramped her throat and scored her gut. There was no going back to her numbness or her denial. It seemed like forever before she could catch her breath, her harsh sobs dwindling to the occasional ragged ones. Blue held her tight and rocked her through the worst of it.

  When she was able to think again, she realized they were locked together on the hardwood. She turned her face to his, and he kissed her mouth so gently. “How you doing, babe?”

  “I’m okay. It was time I faced it. Thank you for being here.”

  “You’re an angel,” he said, his gaze intent. His eyes were dark and steady, and the flutter of awareness climbed to her throat. It had been so much easier with night cloaking them in darkness. In the harsh light of day, the truth seemed all the more painful. The instant he moved, Charlie’s senses went crazy, and she closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath, trying to keep her heart open. When she looked at him again, she was afraid to move for fear of doing something to break the spell. His expression compressed into hard lines. He stared at her, his eyes giving nothing away. Then he held out his hand, and Charlie let out a tremulous sigh as she took it, her grip urgent and tense, almost desperate. He held her gaze for an instant, his hair shining in the sunlight, his cheekbones accentuating the lines of strain around his mouth.

  He looked dark and beautiful, but the expression in his eyes made her heart pound and her knees weak.

  “Do you think you could make it to the bathroom?”

  Loving the feel of him, loving the deep compassion in his eyes, Charlie shook her head. “No.”

  He gave her a wry look. Then, as if she weighed nothing, he caught her around her back and behind the knees and swept her up in his arms. “I didn’t think so.”

  Turning her face against his neck, she held on, the muscles across his back flexing as he carried her through the living room into the bathroom. Cuddling her securely within the circle of his arms, Blue shouldered the door closed, then carried her over to the shower, shifting her weight as he stepped inside the large enclosure.

  He let her slide down his hard, naked body, as he twisted to the controls and soon had hot water cascading over them.

  “You’re killing me, lady.”

  He smoothed his thumbs over her face, rubbing at the tracks of her tears. She cupped his hands, then leaned up and brushed her mouth against his. “Thank you for being here.”

  He caught her chin and kissed her, softly, leisurely, thoroughly, then e
ased back and looked at her.

  He kissed her again, then said against her mouth, “I’m glad you could share that with me.” He felt so good, the water so warm and soothing.

  “Maybe you could buy me breakfast?”

  He grinned against her mouth and nipped her bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue. “I think I could manage that, babe.”

  Charlie gave him a soft laugh, then rubbed her mouth against his. “If you liked the fish tacos last night, you’ll love the chocolate croissants at the coffee shop.”

  The memory of her family’s death receded, and she thought about all the other memories of her childhood she’d foolishly locked away with the end of their lives. Maybe she could sift through those when she could bear it.

  He pulled her against him, and she turned her head against his shoulder, slipping her arm around his waist, a huge ache of longing settling in her, his touch telegraphing sensual tension that made her breath falter.

  Suddenly her need turned into something more. The thought of being locked fiercely against him, of having him widen his stance and pull her up hard against his groin, made her pulse race, and she closed her eyes, so overwhelmed by a rush of hot desire that her knees nearly buckled. Blue caught her against him, his whole body tensing, and through the haze in her mind, Charlie heard him mutter something, his breathing suddenly uneven.

  His chest heaved as he locked her head against him, burying his face against her neck. “God, sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely. “You feel so damned good.”

  All she could do was hang onto him, trying to surface above the heavy throbbing that threatened to swamp her. She wanted him now, needed him now. One hand clamped around the back of her neck, he lifted her up and pressed her against the warmed tiles, steam billowing around them.

  He tightened his hold underneath her butt, his voice gruff and gentle as he hugged her hard and soothed, “Sweet baby. Sweet, sweet baby.”

  She wanted him desperately, her breath came in shredded sounds as she waited for him. She was so primed for him, so desperate, that the instant she felt the weight of his arousal against her thigh, she locked her legs around him, emitting a low, tormented cry as he entered her. Two thrusts—two long, controlled thrusts was all it took—and the pressure splintered, her whole body convulsing around his, her clenching release detonating his. He hung onto her as tremor after tremor coursed through him, but in spite of her frantic urgency, he didn’t let his own need take control.

  Charlie was trembling so badly that she had no coordination left. Blue enfolded her more securely against him, and even though she was nearly incoherent, his only awareness seemed to be of her. It took her a long time to surface from the blinding release he had given her, before she could let go of the tension that had been building ever since she met him. Finally, she was able to relax her frantic embrace, her legs slackening around his waist as her strength gave way to a disabling languor. His ribcage expanding with a shaky sigh, Blue cradled her head securely against him, then kissed the curve of her neck.

  That’s when she realized he was facing her, and her eyes met his like a blue-green wall of water. His hands hung easily by his sides, and he didn’t move a muscle when she dropped her eyes down to his groin. She was prepared to be angry at what was done to him, but it overwhelmed her.

  “Oh, Blue…Ocean, oh, God.” She had placed her cuts close to his shaft, some below each hip bone. They were red and puckered, still healing.

  He closed his eyes, his body rigid, but he relaxed when she touched him, tracing the scars, wishing she could have spared him such torture. She wrapped her arms around him when she saw his face.

  “The worst part is she made me…participate in my own humiliation using drugs. I was out of my mind with lust. It was demeaning.”

  She bit her lip and held him tight. “She’s the monster here, Blue. These scars make you human. I’m so glad you survived. So glad.”

  His arms tightened around her, and it was a long time before they left the shower. Slipping back into bed, they wrapped their arms around each other and fell back to sleep.

  * * *

  San Diego, California Somewhere in the foothills

  Scarecrow dreamed he was home. He dreamed he was in that beautiful place on the edge of the bayou, near the Muddy Bottom River. He dreamed he was at peace and the gnawing guilt and the violence in him was calmed, gone.

  The sound of his name on a woman’s lips startled him. It was sultry, warm, filled with the kind of laughter that echoed in the shadows of his heart. He turned, restless, kicking off the covers, his body hot and aching, lightly perspiring. He turned his head to watch her, but she disappeared into the grove of magnolias that lined his parents’ home. There was a lilting laugh, a taunt that sounded foreign to his ears, an accent he couldn’t quite hear.

  He rose and looked toward the house to find it on fire. The sultry woman called to him, but the house, his parents! Everything was burning. He ran toward the sounds, the screams, and found himself on a battlefield in his SEAL gear. There were so many dead faces, so many bodies.

  A man rose from the gore, covered in blood, his face obscured. His breathing increased, and the familiarity of the man shook Scarecrow to his core. Who? How could he know someone responsible for this carnage, for this abomination against humanity? How was it possible that he…

  He woke up. Sat up straight in bed, his breathing hard and uneven. Sweat slicked his body, the sheets damp. He pushed back the covers on his naked body and headed for the sink, dousing his head and neck in a stream of cold water from the tap. He lifted his head, and cool water soothed as it ran down his neck, chest, and back. He closed his eyes on the horror and tried to breathe around the dream’s message. His hands clenched, and he drank right from the tap, great huge gulps of water.

  He pressed his hands against the sink, his big body flexing with the images and the sound of the woman’s voice. The fire…even now it felt urgent that he take his next available leave and go back home.

  He didn’t even bother to towel off as he went back to his nightstand and picked up his phone. He knew it would be early in Bellise, his hometown nestled right next to Cajun Country in Red River Parish, but he couldn’t wait to hear his mom’s voice.

  “Hello,” she said when she connected, her voice sleepy. His chest eased out, and he tightened his hand around the receiver. He was an only child, and his parents’ health and well-being were up to him. He was understanding more and more that they needed monitored care, and a neighbor wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

  He closed his eyes at the regret of having to make those decisions, taking away their independence, but it was something he had to do that he couldn’t put off anymore. He’d been conceived and born later in their lives when they had all but given up hope of ever having a child. His dad was into his fifties when Scarecrow remembered how hard he had tried to be there for his son who was completely physical and taxing. He’d been into everything—sports, activities, volunteering, school functions. He’d gotten his mom’s sweet Southern charm and his dad’s tough but fair demeanor.

  “Mom,” he said, his voice breaking unexpectedly.

  “Arlo? Are you all right, my angel?”

  She always called him that, and he could hear the sheets rustle as she sat up in bed, concern in her voice.

  “I’m okay, I just had a bad dream. Are you and Dad all right?”

  “Of course. We’re fine.” But he could hear the fatigue in her voice, and he regretted that she had to handle the burden of her aging husband on her own.

  He’d wanted the SEALs ever since he could remember. He worked hard to get to BUD/S, and he’d never regretted a moment of the blood, sweat, and tears he’d put into achieving that dream. Except when it came to his parents.

  Changes were coming, and he was resolved to get home as soon as he could.

  “I’m going to come to visit as soon as I can get leave.”

  “Oh, Arlo, that would be so wonderful.”

  Her
joy-infused voice made him smile. “I love you, Mom.”

  “We love you, my angel boy. Let us know as soon as you know.”

  He disconnected the call after he said his goodbyes. Right now, he had a team on the verge of collapse and a missing member that was hurting something terrible. He’d added to that with his stupid behavior. He loved Blue like a brother, and he had taken his rage and his feeling of powerlessness and shifted it to Blue without meaning to.

  He showered and got dressed and was soon on base. Once in the locker room, he checked his gear. They could ship out any moment, so it was imperative that everything was shipshape.

  He heard a noise and turned. Tank was standing in the cage’s door, his arm propped. He looked troubled and uncomfortable. One thing big bad SEALs did not like talking about was their emotions. It made them pull into themselves. But they were close-knit enough to weather this storm. They would be a whole unit again.

  “You look like shit, Crow,” Tank said, then folded his arms across his chest.

  “Good morning to you, too, asshole.”

  “We fucked up.” Tank sighed and rubbed his face. It was clear to Scarecrow that he hadn’t slept well. Scarecrow also didn’t have to guess at what he meant. “I fucked up. Wicked fucked up. You guys are in the dark.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t make us any less torn up about Blue. We have to fix this,” Tank said.

  Scarecrow rose and stepped closer to Tank, his voice raw when he spoke. “We can only talk to him. We can’t fix a goddamned thing. We got him out as soon as we could. Wicked and I did things…but I’d do them all again to spare him what he went through.” His guilt was eating a hole in his gut. He wanted nothing more than to apologize and, like Tank had said, fix it. They might be gunslingers, tough to their freaking core, but when it came to a team member, there was no holding back. He felt good saying that he’d messed up. Felt good that he could admit it to Tank.

  “I’m going to see him.”

  Scarecrow stiffened. “What? You can’t, Tank. You’d be AWOL.”