Desert Exposure

by Zoë Normandie

  For the first time, they fell asleep together.

  40

  Ryder closed up a small red box and palmed it firmly in his hand. The last time he had held it, his mom had given it to him to keep safe. That had been their last conversation. When she was dying.

  He looked in the bathroom mirror off his new bedroom, listening for the sounds of Olivia waking up. She slept longer and harder than him, which he appreciated, since he enjoyed watching her in the morning. Until nature called.

  It was a good excuse to be alone and think things through. Ryder wasn’t sure when he’d decided to keep the small red box on hand, but he knew he needed it when he told Jake what shit he needed to pack for his stay at the safe house. His indeterminate stay.

  The red box was one of the last vestiges he had of his mom. God, he missed her.

  Her dying wish was that he’d find a good woman. Someone who’d be there for him. Someone loyal. Someone he could trust.

  Loyalty mattered. His father had been with her right until the end. No matter what they went through, they’d always done it together. Like a team. Sex, attraction, physical things—they could bring people together, but they faded. Values, his mother taught him, were what kept people together. Build your house on a good foundation, his dad had always said.

  Ryder wasn’t wrong when he made a big deal about values with Olivia. Values were everything. They went beyond blind trust, and even earned trust—they were about mutual trust.

  Checking himself in the mirror one last time, he could see that he was healing, but the wounds were still there. He’d been through a lot—and he was still hurting. Maybe he had overreacted when Olivia had gone behind his back. Her intentions were always in the right place, and her heart couldn’t be any bigger.

  And maybe that’s what really mattered.

  Walking out of the bathroom, red box in hand, he returned to the bed. She was stirring, but not yet awake. He could sit on the edge of the bed and watch her all morning. Her dark, fanned eyelashes decorated high, golden cheeks. That brunette hair wrapped around her softly, seductively.

  A sense of relief washed over him as he touched her cheek gently, and her breathing changed. She was waking up slowly.

  He remembered what his sister had said to him at his mom’s funeral. He needed to learn how to forgive. He knew he was never going to stop being himself, but he had to make a change and start by taking just one step.

  A wide smile came over his face. It sounded right. It was what he wanted.

  Opening her eyes fully, she grinned. “Good morning.”

  “Hey,” he replied. “I didn’t want to wake you, but we’ve got our mission this morning.”

  Understanding crossed her face, and then curiosity as she looked at the little box that he held out in his hand.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “It’s for you.” It was a moment he had thought of since he’d met her. He couldn’t believe it was actually happening. That they were in a place where it actually could happen.

  She took the box out of his palm and held it, running her fingers in the groove where it opened.

  “You know my baggage now. I don’t know what the future looks like for my life, but I can promise that I’ll always be there for you,” he said gently.

  She slowly opened the box. An antique gold ring sat in the box with a single bold sapphire nestled on top.

  His mother’s ring.

  “I love sapphires,” she whispered, her eyes glittering.

  “And I love you.” His hand caressed her cheek again. “A lot.”

  This time, the tears that fell from her eyes were clearly tears of joy, and his heart grew inside his chest, sending aches down his rattled rib cage.

  She took the ring out and looked at it closer before clearing her throat.

  “Do you think we can plan a wedding in seven months?”

  “That seems like an arbitrary number,” he replied, caught off guard. “Why?”

  “Because I’m pregnant.”

  His jaw dropped. He reached out and slipped the ring on her left hand quickly, before she had a chance to do so herself.

  It fit perfectly. Of course it did.

  “No is not an option now,” he said bluntly.

  She grinned in response. “Partners?”

  “And my wife,” he added. As he moved in to take her mouth, she pulled back and studied him for a moment. She reached her newly minted hand up and touched his face, gently tracing her fingers over the bruises. Then she looked into his eyes again. He saw the rawness that he had learned to love in her.

  “Holy hell, Ryder, I love you too.” She beamed at him, planting her beautiful berry-red lips on his, making every single one of his emotional dreams come true.

  Then, in true Ryder fashion, he leaned over her once more and made every single one of her physical dreams come true.

  Epilogue

  LATER THAT MORNING

  Ryder wasn’t crazy about his pregnant fiancée driving him on his secret mission, but she demanded to help him, seeing her commitment through. And he couldn’t deny her that.

  Pulling up to the gate at the SEAL base in Little Creek, Virginia, Ryder flashed his security badge to gain entry. Per his directions, she discreetly pulled around to the building where Ryder’s office was.

  “Aidan’s not going to be happy about this,” she muttered, “after all the effort he’s put into keeping your rescue a secret from Fuller.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what he thinks.” Ryder grinned. “He’s lucky this is all I’m going to do.”

  He was glad to have Aidan King on his side, but Ryder liked to play ball a little harder—a little more in your face—than King. He had thought out his plan long and hard, and he needed to send a clear fucking message to anyone thinking of fucking with him or the woman he loved.

  Giving Olivia one last kiss as she idled in the parking lot, Ryder reached for her hand. “Stay in the lot. Keep the car warm. I’ll be in and out.”

  Cell phones weren’t allowed in his building, which was a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility. Everything was as secure as it could be.

  He opened the door of her new black Bimmer and kicked his feet out. “Don’t talk to anyone,” he said, looking back over his shoulder.

  She nodded obediently.

  Walking up the cement steps, he held onto the rail for stability. His ribs and wounds still ached, a situation that hadn’t really been helped by fucking Olivia night and day.

  Ryder buzzed himself into the building and nodded at staff as he walked into the lobby. One by one, every DEVGRU SEAL who saw him stopped in their tracks, mouths gaping.

  It was like they had seen a ghost.

  Ryder strolled past, whistling to himself, smiling at colleagues like he had no clue why anyone would be startled. Like the Navy knew he was alive.

  “Master Chief!” a few SEALs cried after him once they’d rolled up their mouths.

  But Ryder didn’t stop. He was on a mission. And, just as he predicted, a trail of people formed behind him, vying for his attention, wondering what the fuck happened.

  He swung the door to his office open and marched to his desk, picking up a document in his inbox. Senior chiefs, chiefs, and special warfare operators flowed into the room in shock.

  “You’re alive!” one called out. “How?”

  “Jesus!”

  Ryder made a show of looking over the document in his hand. “It’s a story that you won’t believe,” he said to no one in particular.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” They could very well see Ryder’s healing wounds and his occasional wince, after all.

  The Silver Star application in his hand was waiting for his approval. He knew the commander had sent it there sometime before their last rotation, recommending Senior Chief Liam Blackshot for the honor.

  It was laughable, really. Neither Ryder nor Blackshot deserved any honors. They had failed to stand up for what was right to that fucking snake Fuller.
Giving Blackshot a medal now would be like telling Fuller that he’d won.

  And that wasn’t the message Ryder wanted to send.

  He held the application with two hands and looked up to the crowd in his office. They all knew exactly what it was. And who had recommended it.

  With a vengeance, he tore the application in half, crumpled it up, and threw it in the burn bag at the foot of his desk.

  “Fuck him,” Ryder growled, thinking of Lieutenant Commander Fuller.

  The group collectively gasped. Without saying much at all, Ryder had just sent a very clear message, one that he knew would hit where it hurt. Within an hour, every SEAL on base would be questioning why a well-respected master chief had shown up alive, unbeknownst to the Navy, and savagely torn up a Silver Star application recommended by the commander himself. It was a gift that would keep on giving, planting the seed of doubt deep within the troop.

  Nodding to the onlookers and enjoying the understanding that washed over their faces, Ryder turned on his heels and left, returning to his fiancée in the getaway car.

  They were heading to meet her mom and dad in order to break the very exciting news of their wedding date and baby’s due date—in that order. After all, Ryder couldn’t let his mom, smiling down from the highest of heavens, see her grandchild born out of wedlock. The least Ryder could do to honor her memory was be the honorable man she’d always told him he was.

  Call for Reviews

  Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you liked this book, it would mean everything to me if you could please leave a review on Amazon. That will help me reach other readers, and will help me grow as an emerging author.

  I also encourage you to sign up for my mailing list, which you can access through my website. I’ll keep you posted on when my new releases are coming out, and I promise not to spam you.

  www.zoenormandie.com

  This is my second book in this series, SEALs & SPIES. If you are wondering what happens next, I have written several additional books, which I’m editing now and will be available soon.

  Book One: EYES ON (available now on Amazon)

  Book Two: DESERT EXPOSURE (available now on Amazon)

  Book Three: EMBASSY AFFAIR (December 2019)

  Book Four: FALSE FLAG (February 2020)

  Book Five: STOLEN VALOR (April 2020)

  EYES ON

  Book One

  CHAPTER ONE

  US Navy Special Warfare Operator Mason Ajax dug his heels deeper into the blisteringly hot white sand as the burn rose into his ankles.

  The sun was high and hot, midday on the beach on the paradise island of Dhidhoofinolhu in the Maldives, a breathtaking collection of tropical islands in the Indian Ocean. The clear aqua-blue water and cloudless sky were unblemished except for the occasional bird dipping in and out of sight.

  Mason was on a spontaneous post-tour decompression trip before heading back home to Virginia. He wanted—needed—to feel something again.

  He’d been numb for too long.

  He’d never admit it out loud, but deep down he knew that the decompression was as much about self-medicating as it was about rest. Boss’s orders.

  And no one took orders more seriously than Mason.

  Mason’s boss, Senior Chief Liam Blackshot, had recognized the growing weariness and battle fatigue in Mason’s eyes. In an unprecedented move, he’d demanded Mason take a week off before reporting back for duty. It was Mason’s first vacation since he’d enlisted.

  But ocean waves lapping against the sand weren’t enough to calm the storm inside his chest.

  Mason shook his head, beads of sweat trickling through his golden-brownish hair.

  Life in DEVGRU was harder than he’d expected. But he never complained. He hadn’t worked through selection, and trial after trial, just to complain. He’d made it into Development Group. The hardest, most badass team in the SEALs.

  What did he expect? He wasn’t a fucking pussy, he reminded himself.

  Mason rubbed his tanned hands over his face, wiping away the sweat. He’d been sitting too long in the blazing heat. Rows of tiki umbrellas behind him shaded tourists from the scorching Indian Ocean sun, and, behind those, a beautifully crafted wooden deck overlooked the beach. But Mason couldn’t be bothered to be sun safe. He wanted to feel the burn.

  No matter how relaxed he ordered his body to be, he couldn’t shake the tension wrapped around his bones. Even sitting in the hot white sand, staring out over the endless blue horizon punctuated by the silhouettes of neighboring islands, Mason’s chest tightened. Sometimes it was so cold that it was hard to breathe.

  He was just sick of seeing blood on his hands at the end of every day. That’s all it was. Battle fatigue. Shell shock. Exhaustion. He didn’t see the end of every day until three days later. He was sick of forgetting his own goddamn birthday because he was entrenched in a mission.

  Mason shook his head, wondering who he was trying to convince. Justifications danced around the core of the issue, but he knew there was a lot more to the story.

  He didn’t know who he was anymore. What he was fighting for. See enough bad shit, and you’ll forget yourself, he’d been warned.

  An exotic white bird danced through the sky and swooped down to skim the top of the transparent water. Mason watched intently, trying to immerse himself in the moment. Today was different. It was a vacation day. He wasn’t in the field. He wasn’t on an operation. He wasn’t a SEAL. He was just a guy on a beach, drinking a cocktail and working on his tan.

  Damn right.

  Today, he was going to celebrate. When he’d checked into the hotel, he’d been reminded that it was, in fact, his birthday.

  “Happy birthday, sir!” The gorgeous, dark-skinned receptionist had beamed when she’d scanned his passport that morning. “We would like to upgrade you to a private villa, complimentary, to help make your day extra special.”

  “Hell, it’s my lucky day.” Mason had attempted to match her cheeriness, but his gruff voice gave him away. He’d been in the Sahel for god knows how long and then traveled thirty hours to get there. It showed.

  He stared out at the lush paradise before him. Cascading waterfalls crashed into manicured ponds. The sound of gushing streams filled the space.

  He was going to enjoy this, he told himself. How couldn’t he? He hadn’t seen more water than a puddle of piss in months. The scent of salty water breezed through the open-air foyer, soothing his travel-weary bones.

  A distant dance beat emanated from the beach, tempting guests to join the party. Grabbing an orange cocktail adorned with melons off a tray on the reception desk, he wondered if any premiere DJs would be cutting.

  The receptionist shuffled some documents together and magnetized his key, handing it to him with a luscious, exotic smile. Her glossy pink lips stood out on her darkly tanned face. Mason did not miss the mischief in her eyes.

  “Enjoy your stay,” she said, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to improve your stay… or if there’s anything you need at all.”

  Mason recognized the insinuation. He wondered if her excellent customer service was a little more than required. He leaned over the counter and palmed his key. She tucked her head down, her eyelashes fluttered, and her lips parted.

  He was aware of his effect on women. Tall and muscular, with bronzed skin and hair, he’d been called the All-American before. And there’d been a time when he wasn’t shy to reciprocate. He had enjoyed a lot of female… friends. But things were different now. The roster was nonexistent.

  He wasn’t clean and shiny anymore. He was gritty, with caked-on dirt and sand from the backcountry of the Sahel that might never come off. Women said they loved the rustic look, but they didn’t when it went too far. Which it damn well had. He hadn’t shaved, he hadn’t showered. Inside, he felt as disheveled as he looked.

  So Mason offered the receptionist nothing more than a polite smile. “Thanks,” he
replied, his voice catching in his throat. It felt forced.

  Sure, he appreciated the upgrade—but he barely knew how to talk to humans outside camp. Outside the military. He wasn’t sure when or how he’d changed, but he knew why. It wasn’t hard to figure out. And he was glad he had a break before heading back home. He needed some time away from the guys—away from the SEALs.

  The resort staff had shown him to a villa fit for Beyoncé. At the end of a long boardwalk of exclusive huts, perched over the water on wooden beams, the straw-and-raw-wood exterior gave off a lush wooden scent as it baked under the scorching sun.

  Inside, Mason’s villa was balls-to-the-wall gorgeous. Marble upon granite upon opulence. Even the fucking shower looked fit for a king… and some friends. His younger self would have loved that. His younger self would have prepped for an all-nighter. If he wanted to make that happen, he had a feeling friends wouldn’t be hard to find. The front-desk staff practically advertised the service.

  But he just wanted to crash. The fluffy white bed called to him.

  Forcing himself to stay awake, Mason found the mini bar in his room and threw back a couple of shots of whisky. He flipped through the information book and saw advertisements for the spa, fitness club, bars, beach club, and five-star restaurants.

  He toyed with the idea of revisiting his younger self again. He thought about what friends he could meet at the beach club and bring back to the villa with him. There was enough room for many to join.

  He wanted to make his birthday extra special, because it was the first time he’d celebrated since his ex had left years before. She’d always insisted on cakes and presents. God, she cared for him. Even when he couldn’t reciprocate. She was always there, always home when he got back.

  But she’d left. She’d gotten fed up with the military-girlfriend thing and shacked up with some accountant in Chicago.

  Good riddance.