Issued (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 1)

by Paris Wynters

  “Not anymore.” His T-shirt, soft and defeated after years of use, slips down one shoulder. Ducking my head, I take a deep breath of sandalwood and ocean breezes.

  Jim and I are intertwined in more ways than one.

  “You should go green.” I smooth the paper in my lap and smile at one of the panels in comic section. “The internet has made newspapers obsolete.”

  “I like something tangible.” Before I can protest, he reaches across me to pull several pages free. Handing me the rest, he settles back on his side.

  “I was reading that.” I furrow my brows and pout.

  “No.” He shakes the page straight so he can read the headline. “You were hiding behind it.”

  “Hiding from what?”

  “Hiding from the fact that you still owe me more information on the whole search and rescue thing.” He folds the paper and sets it down on the table. “Let’s get back to where we left off. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The answer doesn’t come easily but in for a penny, in for a pound. He’s bound to discover what a mess I am soon enough. I lay my half of the paper on top of his discarded section, so he isn’t tempted to pursue his curiosity about the article featuring Santoro.

  “I was ashamed.” The words bringing tears to my eyes. “My stepmother used to make fun of me for it. Not many people get it. I’m a volunteer, so I don’t get paid or anything.” I shrug as if it doesn’t bother me. “If it weren’t for the people I’ve saved . . .” The sentence hangs there, unfinished. Honestly, I’m not sure how to finish it. I love being a part of search and rescue. It’s fulfilling in a way I can’t put a name to.

  “You’re something else, you know that?”

  “It’s a hobby.” God, I must look so lame staring into my coffee as if it holds all the secrets to the universe.

  “Hobbies don’t usually break your arm.”

  “Granted, it’s not scrapbooking. But it also doesn’t pay, so it’s not a real job, either. Which means, technically, it’s a hobby. If you have a better word for it, I’m all ears.”

  I’m ready for all the words I’ve heard before, for his mockery, his dismissal, and his laughter. I’m ready for almost anything except for what actually comes out of his mouth.

  “Amazing.”

  His eyes are bright with pride, his shoulders square with it. Dad gazed at me like that when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. After he died, I never expected to see it again. More importantly, I never thought I wanted to.

  He slips his thumb beneath the bend of my knee and strokes the delicate skin there. “I wish you had told me.”

  “I didn’t want to argue about it, in case . . . in case you felt differently. It made more sense to keep to myself.”

  “Just for the record, you never had anything to be ashamed of. It’s brave as hell.”

  I clear my throat but trying to control the tremor in my voice only makes the tears more imminent. “Thanks.”

  “Just promise me something.”

  “Anything.”

  “Be careful.” His fingers begin to travel and excite unexplored nerves. Goose bumps decorate my skin in waves as my body memorizes the sensation of each callus. “I couldn’t stand if anything else happened to you.” He traces a scar stretching from my hip to my upper thigh.

  “I was trying to pop a wheelie. It didn’t end well.”

  His head jerks up and he lets loose an explosion of air through his nose. “I’m not asking you to stop, just be careful. You may be able to handle another broken bone, but I can’t.”

  Warmth fills my insides like a bonfire, and Jim’s every word only stokes it to greater strength. I’m light-headed and a tad giddy, and while I’m not sure if I’m doing a great job hiding it, I still try. I take another sip of my coffee to hide my obvious pleasure. “I promise.”

  He nods in approval, and I squeal when he grabs me beneath the knees and pulls me more fully into his lap. My coffee is stolen and unceremoniously set aside. “Thank you.”

  I giggle. I’ve never been a giggler, but Jim brings it out in me. Being this close to him, staring up into his eyes and remembering the way his lips feel is enough to bring on more than a giggling fit. “You’re very welcome. By the way, did you ever find your missing flash drive?”

  “No.” Jim leans in, gently nipping at the tendon where my neck meets my shoulder. “Probably should’ve written notes instead of recording them. Or gotten a bigger voice recorder.”

  “The military has flash drives that record voices? Like some new sci-fi tech?” I tilt my head, giving his soft lips better access to the side of my neck.

  Jim laughs, showering my skin with his hot breath. “I wish. They are just recording devices in the shape of USB drives. Martinez ordered a couple online. I won’t even tell you what he uses them for. He gave me one, and I figured I’d use it.”

  “I’ll continue to keep an eye out for it.” I lean in and kiss him. His lips are too soft, like rose petals. I sink against his chest, careful not to put too much pressure on my arm. I can’t imagine a day without him in it.

  I bite my lip. I know I need to tell him the truth about my past, at some point. Even though Bear’s responses to my questions about getting kicked out of the IPP weren’t especially reassuring. But Jim’s my husband. He deserves to know. No matter where the chips fall. Look at the way he’d reacted when I’d confessed what really happened with my arm. No freak-outs. Nothing but support. Maybe together we can figure out what to do in terms of the IPP program.

  But, I still worry. Am I willing to put his life and his happiness on the line with Santoro still free, still a threat? And what happens when he gets deployed, when one day my real world might no longer include him in it? I press a hand against the side of his stubbled jaw and deepen our kiss. There is no easy answer, and I’m not ready for a hard one. At the very least, I’m going to wait to see what my dad kept hidden. If I’m lucky, maybe it’s a way to put Santoro behind bars for good. Then, that worry magically disappears.

  I’d waited this long to tell him. I could wait a little longer.

  And then, I quit thinking as I let him take control of our kiss.

  Jim’s hands and mouth leave me drowning, all my thoughts and worries disappearing beneath the onslaught.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jim

  The open back road is a familiar streak of gray beneath the tires of my bike. The ocean on my left adds a slight chill to the air. It’s been a while since I took my GXSR 750 for a ride, but what better way to celebrate the doctor’s report coming in today clearing me for duty. No more meds, no more worrying about being left behind as the rest of my team is sent off. Plus, with Taya speeding along at my side, I honestly can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

  I downshift, another curve coming up. Of course, Taya speeds up. Not much, but enough to make me tense in preparation for a fall. I forced her to tell me the origin of the rest of her scars. Most are the result of a fall from her bike. So, I set a few ground rules after announcing our plans for the day. The biggest one was no wheelies. And what was the first thing she did the moment we pulled out of the driveway?

  Popped a fucking wheelie.

  My little daredevil.

  The woman is too flippant when it comes to her own safety, and the more I witness it for myself, the higher my blood pressure rises. The search and rescue factor makes things worse. I’m proud of my wife. But things happen and having her dangling over a mountain unsettles me. Mountain bikers, hikers and tourists are all thick in this part of the country. If she’s called in, she could get hurt again. Even die. Bile rises in the back of my throat.

  What if something happens to her when I get deployed again? Maybe I should have brought it up in our counseling session earlier today. Will it destroy what we have . . . the way it did in the past? I smack my lips together, my mouth dry, and my stomach flops in an unfriendly way as my stupid brain fires off a million other unhelpful thoughts.

  Speaking of deployment. I ha
ve some news I need to share with her. I’m just not sure how to broach the subject. Maybe I’m wrong to wait and tell her after we spend this day together?

  I shake my head to chase away my doubt and race to catch up with her. She’s going too fast again. I don’t think she can help herself, which worries me. Taya turns in her seat long enough to wave wildly back at me, and I grin. Her daredevil streak will age me early, but without it, she wouldn’t be Taya.

  I signal for Taya to let me take lead and take the next turn. The mountain road allows us to put on a burst of speed, and Taya whoops as she takes off. Her excitement is contagious, and the engine purrs beneath me as I match her pace. I pull even with her at a dip in the road, and she shoots me the bird. Returning the favor, I slip past her, and we race the rest of the way to Lake Lawson.

  The lot that we pull into is so small that most of the people who visit have no idea that it exists. We’re able to park our bikes in the shade, and I grab Taya’s hand as we make our way along the trail to the heart of the park.

  We find refuge at the base of a large oak tree heavy with Spanish moss a couple of meters away from the water. Taya smiles wide as she takes in the view of the lake, a few strands of her hair blowing in a gentle breeze. God himself couldn’t have created a better scene for a proposal. Although, knowing Taya, she’d probably prefer a skydiving proposal.

  My feet stall, frozen in place, while my cheeks radiate enough heat you could fry eggs on them. Why am I thinking about marriage proposals, of all things?

  Except, now that the idea is in my head, I can’t seem to make it go away. What if I did propose to Taya? Offered to marry her of my own free will this time? A true commitment, not one with an expiration date built in?

  Rolling the idea over in my mind, I meander over to Taya. Thankfully, I’m soon caught up in picnic prep, which pushes any lingering proposal ideas from my mind. At least for the moment. I pull a blanket from my pack, and once we lay it out, I place the containers of food I prepared that morning on top of it, hoping I’m no longer blushing. We spend the next ten minutes or so eating in an easy silence and watching the water lap the shore. Taya pauses suddenly, a portion of sliced fruit halfway to her mouth. Cocking her head to one side, she studies me with a partially bitten strawberry dripping juice down her wrist.

  “I’ve never seen you smile so much.” She licks the juice away.

  Shit.

  I’ve been grinning like a moron. I scowl instead, trying to chase it away.

  Taya laughs and hits me on the arm. “That doesn’t mean stop, you dummy. I like seeing you smile.”

  “Sorry.” I reach out and squeeze her hand where it rests on the blanket. “I’m not used to compliments.”

  Her eyes widen. “You’re serious?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Yes.” Finishing off the strawberry, she points her fork at me in accusation. “You’re practically perfect.”

  “Perfect?” My eyebrow quirks up. “Can I get that in writing?”

  “Hell, no.” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “And just so we’re clear, by ‘perfect,’ I meant you’re a hottie with an attitude problem.”

  I throw back my head and laugh, and Taya flushes. “Hottie. That’s new. Bear’s gonna lose his shit.”

  “Oh, come on. I doubt you’ve been around for thirty-six years without one of your many admirers telling you how attractive you are.”

  “You’d be surprised. Those ‘admirers’ didn’t care about how I looked or who I am. It wasn’t me they were attracted to but the uniform. I liked keeping it that way.”

  “Past tense?”

  Taya’s made it impossible to settle for the vapid women who once occupied my bed. The pain in my chest is proof she’s cracked whatever walls may have kept her out. I’m unwilling, or perhaps unable, to build more. If she decides to leave the program—leave me—after the year is up, I’ll be truly alone. “Definitely. What about you?”

  She glances away and picks at the remaining fruit in the plastic cup. “Not really. I’ve kept things casual, for the most part.”

  I should let it go while I’m ahead, but it’s like picking at a scab. “Why?”

  “What?” Her tone is too casual, and I latch on to the hesitation.

  “Why no serious relationships? Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

  Including me.

  “Too busy. Between college, work, searches and training, I barely had time to ride or hang out with friends. Dating took a back seat.”

  Sounds familiar. Once I decided to join the military, any hope of a social life went out the window. I wasn’t interested in the trivial bullshit all my friends couldn’t seem to live without. I had a goal in mind, and I was going to achieve it. Lux was the only one who understood, and it was my interest in the armed forces that eventually stoked his own.

  Thinking of Lux sends a fresh wave of grief through me, and I have to clear my throat before I can try and change the subject. “What about family?”

  There’s an air of sadness to the way she lifts the corner of her mouth. “What about them?”

  I take a bite of my sandwich to hide my wince. The question was intended to lighten my mood, not darken hers.

  I swallow the bite that was just shy of too large. “You’ve told me about your mom, but you never talk about your dad. We’ve been living together for almost six months, and I don’t think I even know his name.”

  Her lips twist, and her fingers clench so tightly around her plastic fork that it snaps in two. “I don’t know anything about your parents.” The words are a challenge, and I lean back against the trunk of the tree we’re stationed beside.

  This is an old wound, and it only hurts a little when I say, “They’re both dead.”

  She gasps, and I regret my automatic bluntness.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She reaches for me, and I squeeze her hand, my voice softening. “Don’t be. They died when I was fifteen.” It happened not long after Lux and I met, actually. Dad was driving drunk, again, and Ma just happened to be in the car. As had become the norm, I was with Lux and his mother the night it happened. I thought losing Dad would hurt, but it was a relief, not sadness, that greeted me at the news of his death. I saved all my tears for Ma. Thinking about it now makes my throat ache, and I box the sadness away in the dark where it lays beside my hurt over Lux. “I was raised on base by my uncle. He’s the reason I decided to join the military.”

  She leaned forward eagerly. “What’s he like?”

  When had I seen the old man last? I can’t remember. “Strict. No nonsense. He’s too old to fight, so he goes from state to state, lecturing at colleges and preaching to kids in ROTC about the virtues of listening to authority.”

  “He sounds precious.”

  A picture of Uncle James comes to mind. With his cigar and his penchant for telling dirty jokes. Like Martinez. Maybe that’s why I’ve put up with the moron for so long. Nudging her foot with my own, I lift my chin. “Your turn.”

  “My father’s name is Phil.” She begins, and my heart twists as I catch sight of her fingers digging into the blanket as if searching for comfort. “He remarried after my mother died and eventually divorced the evil bitch.”

  My eyes narrow. Taya is so bold and fierce that it’s hard to imagine her growing up with a woman who did nothing but talk down to her. Glad she’s not part of Taya’s life anymore because I’m convinced that the two of us wouldn’t have gotten along. “Any siblings?”

  “No. Janice couldn’t have any kids, and by the time they found out, the marriage was already falling apart.” She chuckles, more bitterness than mirth to the sound. “It was for the best though. There was no one else to screw up but me.”

  “You don’t seem all that screwed up to me.”

  “Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.”

  There’s a bleakness in her eyes that hurts me deep inside. I want to dispel it but don’t know how. I hook my leg with hers and drag h
er closer. “Believe me, I’m looking plenty.” The vein in her neck flutters, and I want to calm it with my tongue. My fingers itch with the urge to smooth the frown lines between her eyebrows.

  “What happened?” Her voice is unbearably sweet, considering the bomb she’s laying at my feet. “Why did you have to join the program?”

  My mouth snaps shut and all the warmth in my chest turns to ice. I pull away and squint into the bright blue sky, avoiding her eyes. The sudden shift from affection to withdrawal is so pronounced that I’m shaking with it. “We should go.” I’m like a child, too flustered to think straight. “It looks like the weather is about to take a turn.”

  Taya glances up, but I don’t need to look to know what she sees. A sky so blue it hurts and not a cloud in sight. “No, it doesn’t.” Her voice cracks with hurt. For once, I’m glad for the tell, and I don’t dare look to see if her expression matches. “Why won’t you share what happened?”

  It’s agony to ignore her as I pack up the remaining food and sling the backpack over my shoulder. I’d rather Taya be angry with me than to know that I shot and killed a child. Somehow, I manage it without expression, though I sound gruffer than usual when I finally decide to speak. “Hurry up. I want to be back in town before it gets too bad out.”

  I’m proud of my cool outer shell. I’m the only one who will ever know the chaos it hides. My phone vibrates wildly in my pocket, which doesn’t aide in calming Taya down.

  “Fine.” Taya scrambles to her feet. “And for crying out loud, answer your phone.”

  She bends over to snatch up the blanket and winces.

  Her arm is still bothering her and I lunge forward to help when my phone flops onto the grass. Before I can reach for it, she grabs it.

  She taps at the screen, her face scrunching tight and turning red. “Tell me what?”

  My head flinches back slightly.

  She holds the phone out to me. “Bear wants to know if you told me yet.”