SEAL's Rescue (Bone Frog Brotherhood Book 4)

by Sharon Hamilton

  When she didn’t turn in his direction or even look at him, he removed his arm from behind her seat and placed both hands on the steering wheel. She didn’t have to tell him tonight would not be that runaway train she used to dream about when she was little. She could still remember the lines she’d made up while she played with her dolls, “I love you. Let’s get married. Let’s have babies. Today.”

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just remembering what I thought a kiss was before I actually had one, except from my father or my little brother when I was forced to.” She leaned back in the seat and smiled at Patrick—beautiful, strong, muscled Patrick, a man she could very easily stupidly fall in love with. “My parents lied.”

  “All right. So where does that leave us, Stephanie?”

  “This could all go really fast, Patrick, and I guess I’m not sure yet if it’s you I’m attracted to, or Ryan’s replacement. That’s not fair to either one of us.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll walk you to your door.”

  “Thank you.” But the driver side door was already closed by the time she’d answered him. He helped her up, which was always the most awkward for them ever since he’d learned how to tackle her and not hurt her. The coach had insisted the boys always had to help the “ladies” up afterward, but Ryan had told her Patrick always liked to take their hands and show them how strong he was.

  It was no different today. She just hoped her heart could stand it long enough to begin healing on its own and not with the aid of someone she wanted to play equal partners with. Just like that feisty little girl with the messed-up face full of mud, she wanted to do it on her own first, get her bearings, and then, if there was anything left—well, time would have to take care of that.

  They parted with no promises of future phone conversations, brunches, or talks, except Patrick did say, “You call me if you need anything. I’ll be in the states for another ten days; then I’m pretty much hard to get hold of. But if you need to talk, Stephanie, I’m your guy.”

  She wished she could make him her guy in the real sense, but it just wasn’t right, and it might never be.

  With a chaste kiss on her cheek accompanied by her palm on his, they parted. She turned around briefly to capture the image of him getting back into his car.

  Yes, Patrick, you are my guy.

  Chapter 9

  Patrick had already met with Trevor Markham before he and Stephanie had brunch. Tonight, it was merely social, and he was looking forward to spending more time with men who had served with Ryan. They met at a local pub/brewery this time. He felt instantly at home with the large screen TVs showing soccer, plus the dart boards and Celtic folk music in the background. They hunched around one round table, their feet scuffing through the peanut shells and sawdust littering the floor.

  He got some details of the few decisions he was going to have to make while they ordered beers.

  “Don’t go in there with a plan of action. Don’t bring anything you’ll mourn or get nervous about if it doesn’t sustain you. Just keep your wits about you. Improvise, but make damned sure you pay fuckin’ attention,” Markham instructed.

  “You go it alone or with a friend or two?” Patrick asked him.

  “This asshole,” he pointed to an olive-skinned, muscled warrior with the most tightly clipped beard he had ever seen. “And this asshole,” Markham gestured with his full palm to the man sitting directly across from him, who looked to be all of eighteen years of age and still sporting pimples.

  “Make it easier?”

  “You know our fuckin’ motto? Only easy day was yesterday? Don’t go lookin’ for easy. That’ll get you jacked up.”

  “Hey, I’m Jake, by the way. My little brother will be joining one of the next classes. You might be in the same one, if it all works out.”

  Patrick shook Jake’s hand and pointed to his beard. “That thing’s a work of art.”

  Jake flashed him a big, white, toothy smile, which made the heavy gold chain he wore flash in the high intensity lights nearby. “I indulge when we’re not deployed, but over there,” he wiggled his eyebrows and let his eyes go crazy, “I don’t cut anything.”

  “This fuckin’ guy likes Brazilian waxing.”

  Patrick rolled his shoulder. “Nothin’ wrong with that. The Europeans are into that shit too. Real common. The ladies, too,” Patrick said casually.

  “See, Trev. I’m a trendsetter,” Jake said to his LPO.

  “Yeah, but think how much more sleep you’d get each day if you didn’t spend all that time manicuring your hedge. Jake, you gotta find a lady who can take care of that for you.”

  Jake’s grin was infectious. Patrick liked him immediately and made a mental note to find out how to contact him to get the number for his brother. “Jake, where you from?” he asked.

  “I’m just a Heinz mixture, man. Brazilian—”

  A sandy-haired, tanned kid sitting on the other side of Trevor interrupted. “See, that’s where he gets that crazy notion he gotta be hairless. Fuckin’ Brazilians, man.”

  Jake rolled with it, and Patrick soon realized there wasn’t much he got upset about. He found it refreshing. “Anyway, Patrick, I’ve never met any of my relatives, except my little brother, Tyson. We grew up in foster care and each foster mother made up another story. We picked up a little bit from here, a little bit from there and—voila—you got your basic bad-ass family heritage. No pictures and shit. I got a granddad who was a Sioux chief, a grandma who cooked for rich folks in NOLA. I love Italian food, so there must be some of that in there, too.”

  Several men chuckled and took long draws on their beers.

  “I don’t even know if Tyson is my real brother, but they always tried to keep us together when one of us messed up and we had to change families. So, there must be something on file, not that it matters much. He’s my brother fair and square.”

  Patrick knew it was tougher on Jake than he let on. “So, the Navy made you a man,” he said.

  “Hell no. The SEAL training made me a man. No excuses and stuff. I finally got it all dialed in that doing things right would keep me out of trouble, keep me alive, and damn, it’s way more fun having a brotherhood behind you, right?”

  “Here you go. I’ll second that,” Markham said as he raised his glass and they all toasted.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Patrick asked the group.

  “Sure,” Trevor answered.

  “What about girls? Any of you guys married?”

  They all shook their heads. “Those guys don’t go on these types of trips, on account it’s a little tough on the wives to see this shit, know what I mean? I mean if they knew him, or knew the wife, well, that’s a different story. Then everyone comes. But we don’t like to separate the guys from their ladies when we get home. Bad for morale.” Trevor Markham was not smiling.

  Patrick nodded. “I’m guessing the wives stick together too.”

  “Oh yeah!” Jake said, nodding with emphasis. “She’s gotta fit in like a little piece of the puzzle. If she doesn’t, they aren’t gonna make it.”

  Patrick frowned.

  “We got a high divorce rate. She’s got to like it as much as he does, or it never works.” That comment echoed around in his brain, and he realized Stephanie, although beautiful and just his type, would in all likelihood be a casualty of his decision. He didn’t like that thought, but he had time to sort it out, and until he signed that paper, anything could happen. The fact that she needed time didn’t bode well for the two of them, and that was a shame. But it would be the best for her. He resigned himself to that, at least.

  “So, they flew the lot of you?” Patrick looked from face to face until he returned to Trevor, “You all came up together?”

  “Hell, no. I’m the only one here who was actually in the arena with Ryan. These guys were medical for this rotation. And Spencer here is a virgin, just came along for the action. But we all knew Ryan. I’m the one who brought him home.”

  T
he catcalls began in earnest, while Spencer squirmed and turned bright red.

  “I’ll have you know that’s just for deployment.” Spencer looked like Clark Kent without the glasses.

  “We call him the professor,” Trevor chortled.

  As their food arrived, Patrick was also warned to be realistic, that with a ten percent pass rate, odds weren’t in his favor. He knew the only thing he had going for him was that he’d kept that promise to himself since childhood, the promise not to fail at any team he tried out for. Quitting wasn’t an option. They’d have to bury him or carry him away before that would happen. He didn’t have to be the best at anything; he just would outlast everyone.

  “That’s good,” Jake said, making Patrick realize he’d said it out loud. “You can use that. I like it.”

  Tomorrow, he’d sort out what he would tell his manager when he returned to the team. He was worried about what he would tell Ronnie, his best friend and soon-to-be-ex-defender on the squad. But he was most concerned that this decision might ultimately drive a stake through any chance of a relationship with Stephanie. In a sick kind of way, he was grateful she’d stopped his forward advance before they’d jumped into bed and it got complicated.

  What are you saying? It’s already complicated.

  Maybe he would be allowed one more trip back to California before they started their season in Europe. She could meet him in San Diego. They could take it slow, much slower, so she wouldn’t bolt again. He owed her that respect. And if she didn’t want to see him…well, he’d have to accept that and move on. It would be good, though, to get it established one way or the other, so he could concentrate on his plans.

  Nothing he found out about the SEALs gave him any pause. They looked him straight in the eyes. They had egos, but not attitudes. They joked, but they didn’t belittle or bully anyone. They had to be light-hearted but ready for anything. He suspected they all knew exactly how many people were in the bar and how many of them carried weapons. He saw Trevor size up several large men Patrick had already decided he didn’t care for. But what he liked best was that they weren’t vying for attention or making a spectacle of themselves. They looked like they wanted to be respected, and then ignored.

  He always thought you could tell a lot about a man by watching how he drank with his friends. Since his coaches on the professional level didn’t go into long speeches like American football players were used to getting, the local watering hole was where the team bonding happened. He suspected it was the same with the SEALs.

  He became more and more comfortable with his decision.

  Next afternoon, his plane landed in Ohio, and he raced to catch up with the team at their designated hotel. He was running late, and the squad was already assembled in the lobby waiting for the busses to take them to practice. Ronnie, as always, was to be his roommate.

  “Do I have time to run up and change quick?” he asked his coach. The man scowled and nodded, first at Ronnie and then toward the elevators. Ronnie ran alongside him, clutching his personal equipment bag. He punched the key to the third floor.

  “You okay, mate?” Ronnie asked.

  “It was tough, Ronnie.” They rode the elevator and then burst out and down the hallway. He followed Ronnie to their room. The defender inserted his key. “It was a beautiful ceremony,” Patrick said while he dumped his bag on one of the beds and yanked out his keeper jersey and backup glove bag. “Met some of Ryan’s SEAL buddies,” he said while he pulled the bright green shirt over his head.

  “Supposed to be fine lads, them SEALs.”

  He wanted to be careful not to let his intentions leak out until he had a plan in place. “Enjoyed talking to them about what they do. Ryan was one of their favorites, and he sacrificed himself to save a handful of Marines and two SEALs.”

  “That’s messed up, Paddy.”

  Patrick busied himself tying his shoes, finding his cleats and second backup gloves, stuffing them into his team bag. “No. It’s what Ryan wanted.” He hadn’t slept well last night and wondered how his lack of sleep would affect his performance in the box today at practice. When he looked up, Ronnie was staring at him with his hands on his hips.

  “Fuck sake, Paddy. You’re not thinkin’ of following ol’ Ryan into the ground now, are you?”

  He hated to lie to Ronnie, especially since Ronnie himself wouldn’t be on the squad after this year. “I admit it’s tempting, Ronnie. I had a good long discussion with them. A man could do worse.”

  They headed out the door, running for the elevator.

  “Shit, Patrick, you’d make, what, one tenth the salary? For what? Gettin’ yourself blown up? Riddled with holes, man?”

  The doors closed. A young couple was standing in the corner, dwarfed by the large defender and the giant next to them.

  “Hi, folks,” Patrick waved to them. They huddled closer to each other and said nothing.

  Ronnie had spoken the truth. But for Patrick, it wasn’t about the money. It was the adventure and the honor of it.

  In his own way, he looked at serving on the Teams as the real beautiful game.

  “You Yanks do the dumbest things for being such smart blokes,” Ronnie said.

  “Yeah? Well, we beat you guys, didn’t we?”

  Chapter 10

  Stephanie missed a call from Patrick when she was working out. In his voice message he said he’d arranged to come to San Diego for a couple of days, maybe a week, and wanted to know if she could meet him there.

  Call me after 5 today, she’d texted back.

  He’d not said why he would be coming to San Diego. She had a niggling fear that this had something to do with his decision to enlist.

  “Stephanie, first I want to say something, okay?” She heard when her phone rang at exactly five, and he began talking before she could get it to her ear. Her heart pounded. She had been watching the phone as it counted down the last twenty minutes. The electric thrill that he’d called right on the dot at five o’clock meant something.

  “I’ve been thinking, now that we’re practicing harder. Funny how that straightens out things. Draw a little blood, and I stop feeling sorry for myself.” His voice was gravelly. She remembered how she tingled hearing it. She was tingling now.

  “I want to apologize.”

  She went into high alert.

  “Yesterday morning was very hard for me.”

  So far so good, but when he hesitated, she couldn’t help but blurt out, “Patrick, just tell me. I’m not a fragile doll, here. I can tell you have something you want to say, and you don’t want to say it. Well, quit making me wait for it.”

  “Come visit me in San Diego, Steph. Give me a chance to—”

  “Charm me?” She instantly wished she’d not responded and could eat her words.

  Patrick laughed. “Well, there is that. Maybe. What do you think?”

  “About what?”

  “About visiting me in San Diego.”

  “What am I supposed to think, Patrick?” She decided to soften her tone. “I guess it depends on what you have in mind?”

  “I want to talk. I want to spend time with you. I want you to come to San Diego because you want to, not to do me or anyone else a favor.”

  She was telling him yes before she could stop herself.

  “Are you sure you’re ready? You’re Ryan’s girl.”

  It struck her as funny in a quirky way. “Where did you plan on taking me, to a dungeon or something? I didn’t say I was going to have sex with you. I’m coming for a visit. And for the record, does this have anything to do with the Navy?”

  “Yes. I want to talk to you that and a few other things, if you’ll listen.”

  “When?” she finally asked.

  “I’m thinking Friday. Can you spend the week? You could fly home next Sunday?”

  “You were thinking, or you bought your tickets?”

  “What? Look, Stephanie, do you want to come to San Diego or not? It’s a simple question.”

  He wa
s right. Time to decide. “Sure.”

  “Good. Friday night, I get in about six. You wanna catch a flight that gets in about the same time, if you can, or, better yet, I’ll get the tickets.”

  “No, I’ll do it.”

  “Actually, I’m going to insist. Sorry if that pisses you off. We have a lot to discuss. It’s important to me. And I can easily afford it.”

  No, that didn’t piss her off at all. “Well, in that case. Sure.”

  “I’ll work on it and text you the results.”

  “Sounds good.” She waited for him to reply.

  “Coming home again, seeing you, seeing Ryan’s friends, it’s had a big impact on me. Now I’m just trying to sort all that out. I’m looking forward to spending time with you again, Stephanie. I mean it.”

  “Me too, Patrick. But please, no pressure. We’ll just see what happens,” she followed her comment with a nervous giggle.

  “Fair enough, Steph. Look, I gotta go.”

  “Until Friday, then.” She hung up, so she didn’t have to feel any more of that awkward tension that had started up again.

  Friday took forever to come. She’d been so preoccupied she’d nearly wrecked her car once. When one of her fellow teachers offered to take her to the airport, she accepted gratefully. She had little to say on the way there. For some reason, her friend gave her a big hug, like her mother had done when she went off to college. She would come back changed. How was still a mystery. But it was thrilling.

  The flight would be short, but the wait was long. She watched couples kiss, single servicemen in and out of uniform sitting in groups with their duffle bags. Young recruits spoke wide-eyed with older, more seasoned veterans with chiseled abs, covered in tattoos. She got respectful nods from most of the men ready to board the plane. She was surprised how quiet the group was, especially for a Friday night on the way to a vacation paradise like San Diego.

  With the flight completely full, she sat next to a couple of young, muscled men she identified as some Special Forces guys. They struck up a conversation with her and somehow it leaked out about Ryan. Their compassion and condolences didn’t help her nerves. She begged out of the conversation, even though she knew they were probably SEALs. She still needed time with her private thoughts.