Issued (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 1)

by Paris Wynters

  I shake my head.

  Sheldon’s comes into view, and I pull up to the valet parking before I drive myself crazy. The restaurant is the epitome of class and beachfront snobbery, but their pier is the perfect location for a proposal. I want this to be special for her, to show her that she deserves way more than getting “married” by signing a document. Luckily, the moon is shining through the partly cloudy sky. The universe is working with me tonight, holding off the storm that’s supposed to roll in tonight.

  The maître d’ leads us to a table in the secluded part of the restaurant. We pass the table by the veranda, and my stomach shifts uneasily. My hands clasp and unclasp each other as if in constant need of touch and reassurance. We take our seats at the table, and I reach across to take her hand into mine, hoping that touching her will calm my nerves. “Get into any trouble while I was gone?”

  “What are you, my dad?” She pulls away from me and grabs a piece of bread. The muscles in her shoulders go rigid, and her skin flushes a few shades darker as blood suffuses her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

  I capture her wrist between my fingers. The cast is gone, and her arm is pale from the elbow down, a reverse tan. My thumb grazes across the delicate skin, the vein running along her forearm fluttering a little faster.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Knowing she’s fully recovered from her fall eases the anxious beast in me, but I still check her arm for any lingering weakness before kissing the delicate skin just below her wrist. The sharp intake of her breath is like music.

  “I do.” The sadness in her eyes has eased somewhat, color returning to her pale complexion. “But let me ease my way into it by way of carb overload—these rolls look amazing.”

  I grin. Partly because, at last, Taya is going to open up to me, but also because she looks like she needs the encouragement. And maybe just a teensy bit because her talking first means I get a temporary reprieve from my nerves. I reach for the box in my pocket, touching the square to reassure myself it’s still there and then try not to snort out loud. Look at the big, brave SEAL about to piss himself over asking a simple question. Good thing Bear can’t see me now. “Sure thing.”

  I let her go and lean back in my seat and scarf down half of the dinner rolls. They’re delicious. Or maybe they aren’t. Where the hell is the waiter? I force down the last mouthful of bread and want to kick myself. Engaging in a one-man carb eating contest is not romantic.

  Taya finishes off her last bite of roll and wipes her mouth on her napkin, before clasping her hands together on the table. When she looks up at me, her expression evokes a different type of stress. My gut clenches. I have no idea what she’s going to say next, but I can tell it’s serious.

  “So, I haven’t been completely honest with you. About my past,” she says, dropping her gaze to the table.

  I hesitate, and then reach across and curl my hand over hers once again. I honestly have no idea where this is going, but I want her to know that she can trust me. “Take your time, we’re in no rush. I’m here for you.”

  Her fingers tremble beneath mine, but the small smile she flashes me is all the proof I need to know that she appreciates my support. She closes her eyes. When she reopens them, all of the words tumble out in a rush. “My dad is dead, murdered by someone I considered one of my best friends.”

  She sags into the booth, like a burden’s been lifted off her back. Meanwhile, I’m frozen in place while an icy finger trails down my spine. “I’m sorry, did you just say that your dad was murdered? By a friend? I don’t understand, I thought he was still alive.”

  She hangs her head. “I know, and I’m sorry. I was too scared to tell you. I didn’t update my IPP application, and I was worried they’d kick me out of the program. Plus, you needed this program and well . . . I needed a fresh start. I’m so sorry, Jim.” She looks up at me with glistening eyes. “I should have told you sooner, I just panicked. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess if I didn’t have to.”

  My shock wears off, chased away by adrenaline. My body switches into high-alert mode. I squeeze her hand one more time before leaning onto my elbows while my mind whirls. “Is the person, this former friend of yours, who murdered your dad, in jail?”

  Taya shakes her head. “No. They didn’t have any proof.” When she looks at me this time, her eyes blaze. “But I know for sure that Marco did it. And I’m partly to blame. I told him about Dad’s investigation into Santoro. That’s the only way they would have known Dad was coming for them.” A tear slips down her cheek. “If I’d just kept my mouth shut, he might still be here today.”

  My heart cracks at the raw pain in her voice. I might only have a fraction of the story and no clue who any of these people are yet, but it’s enough to understand the guilt has been eating away at Taya for a while now. Guilt that is entirely misplaced. She looks so small, huddling in the booth. Maybe I should be upset that she lied, but all I want to do right now is comfort her.

  This time, I reach out with both hands and take hers in mine. “Taya—”

  I never get to finish my sentence, because a small hand curls around my shoulder. Taya’s looking behind me, confusion etched on her face. I turn, expecting to find the waiter with our appetizers. But what I get is a slap in the face.

  Spoiler alert: I did not, in fact, order a slap in the face.

  “It’s good to see you, Jimmy.”

  Apparently this is a night full of surprises. The face and voice of the woman whose red nails are wrapped over my arm is a blast from the past. A terrible one. My muscles tighten in anticipation and I grip the edge of the table, preparing my body for the overwhelming onslaught of emotions that usually accompany my ex-wife—stabbing pain or fiery rage, or some combination of the two. But to my surprise, there’s nothing beyond a few twinges. Transient reminders that this woman was bad news.

  The main thing I’m feeling? Impatience over the interruption. “Raychel, we’re a little busy here . . .”

  Tactical error. Raychel’s claws dig into my shoulder. She never did like being dismissed. Her eyes narrow and home in on Taya. “Well, who do we have here? Come on, Jimmy, aren’t you going to introduce me to your little . . . friend?”

  “I’m his wife.” Taya is stiff-lipped. Her face is flushed, fists clenched on top of the table while she zeroes in on my former wife’s nails on my shirt.

  I pluck ex’s hand off my shoulder and grimace. A social visit from my ex is about the last thing Taya needs right now. Raychel’s expression twists further when the light from a nearby wall sconce reflects off of Taya’s wedding ring. “Bummer. I didn’t get my wedding invitation in the mail.”

  Before I can process that yes, my ex is really going there, my former wife scoots into the booth beside me. “Isn’t this cozy?”

  She’s squished up against my side, her leg pressed to mine. Once again, I wait for the emotions to flood me. Hatred. Desire. Loss.

  Once again, there’s none of that. Nothing except a warm rush of gratitude, that the woman in my life now is the one sitting across the table from me, and not the mess beside me. The sensation is new, and I take a few moments to revel in the relief sweeping through my veins.

  “You swore you’d never marry again, and yet, here you are.” Raychel focuses on Taya’s ring again and a malicious smile spreads across her face. “I guess that means you know all about Jim’s past. How he’s all messed up because of that kid he shot, and how his buddy Lux hated the sight of him so much afterward, that he volunteered to stay behind just to avoid him.”

  The air leaves my lungs in a rush at the memory. Taya blanches, while Raychel’s smile widens before she lifts a hand to her mouth. “Oh no, did I let the cat out of the bag?”

  I can only stare at Taya and absorb the shock and pain on her face. Dammit. This is the worst possible way for her to find out. “Taya, please, I can—”

  Raychel makes a tsking sound that frays my nerves. “Explain how you gunned down a kid in cold blood? Oh s
weetie, I don’t think there’s any way to explain your actions. That’s the reason you’re such a disaster. Because you know you’re guilty.”

  The pain stabs now, slicing right through my chest. Raychel knows exactly how to wield the blade. I can’t even defend myself, because what she’s saying is true.

  But apparently Taya can. “Shut up. Shut your lying, trouble-making mouth before I shut it for you. An opportunity I clearly missed out on when I met your sister. Anyone with half a brain knows that Jim is one of the good ones, which I guess doesn’t say much for your intelligence.”

  “I’d do as she says. My wife,” I emphasize the word on purpose as the corner of my mouth quirks up into a lopsided smile, “has quite a right hook.”

  I scour the restaurant until I find who I’m searching for: a familiar face. The face of the Marine who I’d found Raychel screwing in my bed. “And besides, your date looks restless.” I offer him a smile and a wave and try not to laugh when the man grabs the menu and ducks behind it. The last time we’d met, I hadn’t been nearly so cordial. The sight of him used to send me into a rage. Now? I’m happy that my ex is his problem.

  Raychel stiffens and turns to me and traces a finger down my chest, batting her eyes up into my face. “Well, if you ever want to meet up . . . for old times’ sake, you know where to find me.”

  Taya starts to rise from her seat, but I wave her back down. Raychel is my problem. Gently but firmly, I push Raychel’s hand away from my chest. “Let me be very clear. I’ll never want to meet up with you, in any context. I thought I loved you once, but as it turns out, I didn’t even know you. You’re my past. I’ve moved on, and I’m happy now. I hope you find whatever makes you happy, but that person never was, and never will, be me.”

  Raychel’s eyes go wide and her mouth opens, but no words come out. Still, I brace myself for another outpouring of nastiness. Instead, she stands up and tosses her hair. “Whatever. Enjoy your boring little lives together.”

  Taya continues to glare at my ex-wife but no further exchanges occur, and Raychel walks off. As I watch her saunter back to her lover, some heavy, old knot inside me loosens and slips away. What I told her was true. She’s my past.

  My future sits right across the table.

  My wife, who looks more than a little shaken by all of this. Shit. Not exactly the romantic evening I had planned. “I’m so sorry, Taya, I had no idea she’d be here. What can I do to make it up to you?”

  Her eyes are soft, kind, compassionate. “It’s okay.”

  I reach for the water and gulp the cool liquid down, hoping it settles the snakes writhing in my gut. Because even though I’m over Raychel, that doesn’t make what she said any less true. Taya has a right to know the stuff I’ve been keeping from her. Has a right to decide if she wants someone like me in her life at all. “None of this is what I wanted tonight for you. For us.”

  Taya squeezes my hand and sits back. She takes a remaining scrap of bread from the basket and picks at it. Her face is drawn, her eyes sad. How do I make this right? How do I show her what she means to me, what I want us to be?

  On a mission, I do whatever is needed. As the leader of my team, whatever move or decisions I make in the heat of the moment have to be the right ones because there is no going back. I learned through war to act without regret. Marriage to Raychel taught me a different lesson entirely. I know how to say sorry, but I don’t know how to make amends and get back on the right track.

  Now it’s my turn to put all my chips on the table. To open up and let Taya decide if she feels I’m worth being with. I know Taya still has details to tell me about her past, but we’ll have time for that, after. Hopefully. Unless Taya walks away.

  I take a deep breath. Before I lose my nerve. “Raychel and I were never good together. She was always mean, and I don’t say that lightly, either. My C.O. during basic could chew on nails and shit out bullets, but Raychel is a different kind of mean. She needed my constant attention and when she didn’t get it, she was cruel for the sake of being cruel. She’d do little things to break me down, then laugh about it behind my back. I used to admire her for her drive. She had ambition, and I saw it as passion, at first. When I think about it, I see now that her ‘ambition’ was nothing but opportunism and manipulation. I think something inside her is broken, but it’s not my responsibility anymore to figure out what.”

  Taya lifts her head, her eyes searching my face.

  I pause, because this next part is humiliating to admit. “I caught her fucking two guys from base in our bed. Talk about a welcome home after a nine-month deployment. We were having problems, but I couldn’t wait to see her. There was no apology after. She told me it was my fault. I was gone all the time, I never gave her enough attention, I demanded too much. She said I was too hard to love, that being married to me was a burden. She hadn’t been cheating on me. She’d been trying to save herself.” It still baffles me how someone could be so flippant about infidelity. During my resulting explosion, Raychel had been all too eager to tell me about her dalliances.

  “That’s bullshit.” Taya’s words are stern with conviction.

  “Maybe. But it didn’t matter. I believed her.”

  “You’re an idiot.” Her gaze drops, chin tucking in. “Why were you forced into the program?”

  My stomach twists into a knot. There’s no way around the truth. “My actions while deployed . . . are . . . were under investigation. My commanding officer went to bat for me and saved my career. In return, I had to join the program with no issues and at least make it through the one year that the annulment clause covers.”

  Taya straightens in her seat, her gaze unblinking and focused on me.

  I’m picking my way through landmines, and the more I talk, the more mines there are. “There was a boy who sold fruit in Kabul. I don’t know when or how, but somehow, the hostiles got to him. Planted a bomb in his basket on the day we were clearing the city in preparation for an airstrike.”

  I pause again when the images flood me. Everything was such a blur, but the expression of surprise on the boy’s face when he sees my gun will haunt me until my dying days. A tight lump clogs my throat. I shake my head. “Sorry, need a second.”

  “It’s okay, Jim. I’m not going anywhere.” Taya’s voice is soft. Warm. Strong. I lean into the support her calm presence offers and somehow find the strength to utter those last, devastating words.

  “I made the boy and took him out before he could blow my team to hell.”

  Am I trying to justify what I did to Taya or myself? Probably both. It’s not like I haven’t spoken the words to myself before. I stare into her eyes because their brown depths make the world a little softer, a little sweeter and just the right amount of forgiving.

  But she pales. And a second later, she is out of her chair and heads toward the front door. My heart constricts, my deepest fear punching me in the gut. Maybe she just needs a second. Or maybe she finds me deplorable.

  Either way, I opened up, and she left me.

  I bend my head and close my eyes, attempting to breathe with constricted lungs and a shattered heart. A cynical voice whispers to me. What had I expected, after all? After Raychel?

  Except, that voice is full of shit. Taya is nothing like my ex-wife. So why am I sitting here, letting the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time walk out the door without a fight?

  I toss some money on the table and jump to my feet. I rush through the restaurant and when I push outside the door, brisk salty air slaps me in the face while I look right and then left. Relief swells when I finally spot her, over by the public beach bathroom.

  But Taya’s not alone.

  There’s a man with her.

  My hands tighten into fists as I break into a run.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Taya

  Even though I’d prepared myself for the worst, Jim’s words had still come as a shock.

  I made the boy and took him out before he could blow my team to hell. />
  And then, I’d looked up into Jim’s face, and my heart had cracked even more. I didn’t have to imagine the kind of guilt he’d feel over causing someone else’s death because I’d lived it. But in his case, it was so clear that he wasn’t at fault. And yet, he’d carried that weight ever since.

  In that moments after his confession, all I’d wanted to do was pull him into my arms and comfort him because I love him.

  But before I could tell him, I’d spotted a familiar face lurking in the front of the restaurant. Without stopping to think, I’d raced outside to catch him. And now here we are.

  The two of us, all alone on this deserted stretch of beach, under a night sky heavy with an impending storm. The air is still and thick clouds blot out the stars, leaving behind a vast expanse of jet-black. The faint wind brushes against the water’s surface, the ripples ruffling the stillness of the surface.

  My fingers curl into the fringes of my shawl.

  A wave of different emotions washed over me. Lyons couldn’t have arrived at a more inopportune time. Jim was opening up, finally trusting me. But fear won out. Fear that Lyons is here because of something bad. Fear that if Lyons found me, maybe Santoro did, too. Fear Jim could be put in danger.

  I squeeze my eyelids closer together, huffing. “What are you doing here?”

  Lyons shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his hazel eyes a mixture of sad and angry. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

  I pull my shawl tight, chilled by a sudden cool breeze. His disapproval makes me tense and uncomfortable. “How’d you find me?”

  “Taya, you did tell me about that stupid bet. But I didn’t remember right away.” Lyons runs a hand through his thick, blond hair, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. “When you disappeared, I thought Santoro had gotten to you. Killed you too.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare out over the water. I thought leaving without a trace would keep my friends safe, would keep Lyons safe, since he was in the police force. But it never occurred to me he’d think Santoro killed me. I glance over at him, at the wrinkles etched into his skin. Maybe I should’ve told him. “I’m sorry.”