SEAL's Promise - Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 01

by Sharon Hamilton

  Glasses were raised and the chant was repeated, adding Mark and Sophia’s names.

  “Where’s your mom, Sanouk?” T.J. asked the gangly kid, in the silence that followed.

  “She’s cooking something special. A dessert for …” Sanouk threw a thumb in Timmons’ direction. T.J. had never seen the man blush before, but he was bright red.

  “Oh, this is serious shit, man,” Fredo began. “When the woman starts making desserts, you got yourself trapped, man. They break out all the stuff they do really well, and then later, it’s all TV dinners and—”

  “What the fuck you talking about?” Kyle blurted. “You’ve never been fuckin’ married, Fredo.”

  Jones added his opinion to the mix. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think any woman has been brave enough to cohabitate.”

  The crowd laughed at Fredo’s expense.

  “So you gonna just sit there and take that, or you gonna tell them?” Mia said to Fredo, who was the second man T.J. had seen blush tonight.

  “I proposed to Mia last Saturday night, and she said yes.” Fredo could hardly look at anyone, and ducked his head like a beer had been poured on him.

  “I hope Armando’s okay with this. Mister don’t mess with my sister,” Kyle added.

  Christy stood, leaned into Fredo’s back, and gave him a bear hug from behind with a kiss on the cheek. The cat-calls were long and loud.

  “You done good, Fredo. Congrats you two,” Christy said as she winked at Mia.

  “Thanks.”

  T.J. felt Shannon stiffen at the early talk of Fredo’s engagement, but he gave her a warm smile and a kiss, and she leaned into him with a sigh.

  “So that’s two weddings,” Nick said as he drilled a look at T.J. and Shannon.

  “We’re doing it backwards, guys,” T.J. said softly. “Having the baby first, and then if I do well enough in the delivery room, perhaps Shannon will marry me afterwards. But she needs to know I can handle myself in childbirth.”

  “Oh T.J., that’s not what I said.” Shannon had slapped his arm, but she was smiling in spite of herself.

  “Wasn’t what you said, honey. I read your mind.” T.J. pointed to his temple and got another arm slap for his troubles.

  “When’s the funeral, Fredo?” Sanouk asked. Mia scowled.

  Fredo cracked a smile that completely bisected his face and spread his already wide nose. “Going to Vegas this weekend. Who wants to give me away?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‡

  SHANNON HAD FELT slightly sick to her stomach at the brewery, so T.J. took her home early. She noticed her fingers and ankles were swollen, and they hurt from the pressure.

  “Gotta get you off those feet,” T.J. said. “You going to be able to sleep, honey?”

  “Not with this nausea.”

  “If you’re not feeling better by later this evening, I’m calling the doctor.”

  “I agree.” Shannon had to admit, she was a little concerned by how quickly her mood changed with her upset stomach.

  She took a cool shower and donned a big shirt, readying herself for bed.

  It was usually comfortable in San Diego, since the temperature never varied by more than a few degrees all year round, but today there was no breeze coming off the ocean. She got up and turned on the window air conditioner that looked nearly as old as she was, but nothing happened. T.J. was working on his computer in the living room with a headset so he could listen to his warrior music and not bother her. He had been obsessed with news accounts from North Africa, and although he never said so, Shannon suspected that was where they were headed on their next deployment.

  Standing in the doorway, she watched him hunch over the blue light from his laptop. His enormous shoulders tapered down to an impossibly thin waist, which she noticed now more than ever, due to her condition. The baby had been lazy all day, but as she ran her hand over her eight-months-pregnant tummy, she whispered to Courtney. “Won’t be long now, sweetheart. Can’t wait to hold you in my arms.” She rubbed back and forth and hummed a little tune she’d been sung as a child, and eventually Courtney started moving slowly, almost in rhythm to the music.

  She knew she should try to get her rest, because she’d been advised these quiet nights wouldn’t always be here. And then she’d be nursing a young baby with T.J. overseas. Knowing how she’d worried about Frankie, as it turned out for good reason, she wouldn’t be getting any sleep even if the baby didn’t keep her up all night. There were still so many unsettled things.

  T.J. sensed her presence and came over to her, kneeled and spoke to Courtney. “You keeping your mama up all night, darlin? Gotta let her get her rest so she can be strong to handle you.”

  He stood up and she buried her head into his shoulder and wept.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “I feel like it’s the quiet before the storm, T.J. I feel like I need to be prepared, like something’s going to happen that will rip me from this peace.”

  T.J.’s hands were all over her back, her neck. He knew just where to knead her upper spine so as to work out the kinks and make her feel rubbery. “Good that you recognize that. We have down time overseas, too, but we know better than to let our guard down.” His breathing was heavy as he shook his head.

  “What is it? What aren’t you telling me, T.J.?”

  “You saw that report on the news tonight, babe?”

  Shannon nodded, but stayed wrapped in the safety of his arms.

  “You gotta be vigilant, watch everything and everyone around you. Especially when I’m gone, but even now. Things are changing out there, and some of the arena we’ve been working in is coming home to the U.S. We’ll get them, that’s for certain. We’re hoping to minimize the threat, but we can’t be everywhere.”

  “You really believe that guy?”

  “They went after the World Trade Center twice before they got it right. These zealots are different from us because they don’t value human life, so their own death means nothing. What we don’t understand is how someone who is raised here and given so much could turn and want to destroy us. Those are the ones we probably can’t stop, until the entire movement is crushed or some cooler heads prevail. Contrary to what some media centers say, we didn’t cause this. It’s because of who we are that they come for us. And if they can’t get us on the battlefield, they’ll try to pick off some of our non-combatants, our families.”

  “I hate to even think about that.”

  “I know, sweetie. But you have to. Your instincts are good. Stay alert. Know where that loaded gun is at all times. Never be without it when I’m gone, understand?”

  His warm hands cupped her cheeks as he savored her lips slowly. She felt his heat coming on, mingling with hers, and allowed it to deliciously subside. She was ready to not be pregnant and could hardly wait.

  T.J. escorted her back to the bedroom. “Couldn’t get the air to work. Can you?”

  “I’ll go get one tomorrow, but lemme look at it.”

  Shannon got into bed, covered herself with just one sheet and lay back to watch T.J. fiddle with the knobs and then finally pound the top of the machine with his fist. The unit slowly sputtered to life.

  “You’re so masterful!” She extended her arms to the sides to invite him into her bed.

  “Not really, I just knew where to hit it. You heard about the guy who was hired to fix some big machine in a factory and insisted he be paid up front?”

  “No. Who was he?”

  “It’s a story, babe. He gets paid ten thousand dollars, walks into the plant and hits a pipe with his wrench and the machine starts working. The factory owner cries foul.”

  T.J. pointed to the air conditioner.

  “The fixit man said, Hey, I did my job. It’s fixed. The factory manager said, But all you had to do was bang on one pipe. That’s not worth ten thousand dollars. The man said, One dollar for hitting the pipe and nine thousand nine hundred nine-nine dollars for knowing where to hit it.

 
“I don’t care. You’re still amazing.”

  “I think it was frozen up, and a chunk of ice fell outside. That’s all.”

  “But you knew where to hit it.”

  “Nope. I guessed.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‡

  T.J. GOT A call from his liaison during breakfast. Shannon had finally fallen asleep and he preferred to leave her that way.

  “What’s up, Chief?”

  “T.J., I got a collect call from Tennessee, and I didn’t accept the charges at first. They never called back, but left a number. I could hear a man’s voice on the other end, and he kept shouting out your name over the operator.”

  T.J. closed their bedroom door shut before answering. “Who was this guy?”

  “He says he’s your father, T.J.”

  He’d always known that someday something would surface about his family. He expected to be contacted by a sister or brother, or perhaps his mother, but not his dad. T.J. had always envisioned a beautiful woman who had given him birth, remembering one of his foster parents’ words about how she’d been a beauty queen in Arkansas. So, perhaps his father was from Tennessee. That could be possible.

  “Can I have that number, Chief?” he asked. Even as he blurted the words, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to talk to the man. But reflex made him ask anyway.

  “Well, son, I’m afraid I have some bad news on that front.”

  “I don’t understand, Chief Collins.”

  “The call came from Riverbend Maximum Security Prison.”

  It was as if he’d run into the end of a telephone pole they’d trained with in his BUD/S class. A wave of nausea consumed him. Black blotchy spots formed before his eyes, and he fought back dizziness.

  Fuck me. My dad’s a serial killer or child molester. If it was a maximum security prison, he wasn’t there for stealing a car or writing too many bad checks, not that that would have been okay with T.J., either.

  He didn’t remember much of what Collins had to say after that, but he did have his wits about him to at least write down the phone number. After he hung up, he saw that a similar number was showing on his phone without voicemail. Could these be from two different family members? Maybe his mother? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, judging from how well he’d scored with the last scenario.

  He hit re-dial, and it was answered by a message.

  “You’ve reached the office of inmate special services Travis Banks of the Riverbend Correctional Facility in Nashville. I’m not available to take your call…”

  Before he knew it, a beep indicated he was to leave a message. What the fuck do I say? He hung up and cursed.

  What am I, in grammar school?

  T.J. stomped around the kitchen, opening cupboards, looking for something to eat. He grabbed an apple from a fruit bowl and took a bite out of it. The interior of the apple was soft and a little mushy and contained the remnants of a worm, probably less than half of what he had in his mouth. He opened the front door, spit out the fruit onto the shrubbery, and threw the apple like he was throwing a grenade, past the next street at least, over the tops of red tiled roofs, until it was out of sight. He knew he could throw it far enough to make it to the estuary. He thought he had enough on it to send the red fruit all the way to heaven, but after a few seconds he heard the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.

  Son of a bitch.

  Walking inside, he slammed the front door shut, rattling the walls, and then he remembered Shannon.

  Her face was white as she ran to him, bolting from the bedroom like it was on fire. “What is it, T.J.? What’s happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Stop that. You tell me right now what’s going on. I’m getting really freaked here. I haven’t seen this side of you. Ever.”

  He tried to take her in his arms, but she slipped away, hugging herself, twisting from side to side.

  “Tell me first,” she whispered.

  T.J. lumbered over to the couch and collapsed, his face in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. He mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t hear, “I found my dad.”

  “What? I can’t hear you.”

  He really didn’t want to tell her, but he would have to. This was going to ruin everything.

  “T.J. I want to know what’s gotten into you? I need to know what you’re—”

  T.J. stood tall, and for a moment he saw fear on Shannon’s face. At the same instant, the nausea in his stomach increased. He held his forefinger up to her. “Be right back,” he said as he ran for the bathroom and deposited his coffee, breakfast cereal and what must have been left of the worm in the toilet.

  After washing up, he came back to the living room to face Shannon, who hadn’t moved. It was painful to see tears welling up in her eyes. He gripped the rounded doorway trim, inhaling, and said,

  “I think I found my dad.”

  At first Shannon had a broad smile on her face as her eyes widened, her forehead creased in happy anticipation of a reunion he knew wasn’t going to happen. She angled her head, frowning, but her voice was hopeful. “That’s great, T.J. You’ve always wanted to find them.”

  “No. I did not.”

  “Yes you did, sweetheart.”

  “I fucking did not! And I fucking wish they were dead, or at least my dad. No wonder they never reached out to me. He couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I think he’s been in prison my whole life!”

  “You don’t know that, T.J. Did you talk to him?”

  “Fuck, no.”

  Shannon stepped back. “You need to lower that tone. You’re starting to scare me.”

  At this, his knees nearly gave way. He was mucking up everything. One royal fuckup after another. “You suppose he’s known about me all along?”

  “Beats me. You have a number to call him?”

  “I’ve already—” Then he remembered he hadn’t left a message for the guy from the prison. He pushed the red redial button and got voicemail. “Sir, my name is T.J. Talbot and you called me today. Someone also talked to my liaison. I’m in the Navy, sir. The person my Chief overheard said he was my father. I spent my whole life in foster care, so I have no clue if my name rings a bell at all. Fact is, I don’t really know who I am.”

  He left his cell number.

  He held up the piece of paper, “I’m going to call this one now.”

  The phone rang and rang and rang without anyone picking it up. He was going to have to wait for the prison official to call him back. If his father was in prison, he was guessing this was a payphone in a prison common area used by inmates.

  Shannon was drinking a glass of water. Her complexion was still pale. T.J. looked at her fingers and noticed her rings were tight. She filled up another glass and sat in the living room to drink it.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Not very good, T.J. I think I should go back to bed. Can you come?”

  “I’m going to let you rest. I’ve got some Team stuff to do, to read over. Don’t want to disturb you.”

  “You don’t disturb me. I like it when you’re there.”

  “Should I call the doc?”

  “If I can’t sleep, might as well call him. Come to bed when you can, okay? I like having you next to me. I’m a little stressed for some reason.”

  T.J. registered that now Shannon was feeling some stress, which might mean her blood pressure was rising. None of these signs were encouraging, but if Shannon wasn’t in pain and could sleep, he figured that would give her the most benefit. He decided to stay up in case someone from Tennessee tried to call him back.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‡

  T.J. FINALLY CAME to bed close to midnight and Shannon was engulfed in a deep sleep. He said a little prayer of thanks for this. He snuggled next to her, spooning to her backside, like he often did.

  As the sun was peeking through the curtains, T.J. woke up and found the bed soaked. The baby wasn’t due for nearly ano
ther month, but the doctor had said it could happen any day and the baby would be fine. So he figured Shannon’s water had broken. But when he looked over at her, her skin was pale and clammy. She woke up slowly, more slowly than usual.

  Something was seriously wrong.

  When he turned on the nightstand light and drew back the sheets he saw the brownish stain everywhere, not clear like he’d seen in his Corpsman training. And Shannon’s lack of energy told him she was in real trouble.

  He cursed himself for not checking on her earlier. Damn, I should have paid attention.

  He dialed their doctor.

  “Doc, she’s pale and has cold sweats. The bed is wet, but the water is light brown, Doc.” He was near hysterics.

  “She needs to be admitted. Can you get her here fast, because if not, I’m sending an ambulance.”

  “Shit, Doc. She going to be okay? Is the baby okay?” He watched as Shannon nearly fainted, coming from the bathroom where he’d heard her vomit.

  “Can’t tell, son. But the longer we’re on the phone the worse it’s gonna get. You get her to the hospital STAT, understood?”

  “Understood.”

  He hung up and ran to assist Shannon. He got out her favorite pair of drawstring pajama bottoms, and a big shirt. The SEAL wives had made a quilt for Courtney, and he wrapped it around her shoulders, which made her burst out crying. Her emotional reaction sent him into the stratosphere with worry.

  “You need anything, honey?”

  “I couldn’t keep anything down, even if.” She inhaled and then let her tears burst forth, grabbing him and pounding her fists to his chest. “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

  “No worries. Please, Shannon. I’m here. We’re going to meet the doc at the hospital. He’ll have everything ready.”

  She’d been complaining of her feet hurting, and her fingers swelling. Now he saw her ankles swollen, almost bulging over her feet. He knew if they were this way right now, after a night lying down, it was a horrible sign.

  He raced to the hospital and got there within fifteen minutes. Shannon was in pain, and had been consumed with heavy contractions. He was supposed to encourage her, thank her for enduring the pain. But he wasn’t sure the pain was normal, since something was seriously wrong with the delivery. And he knew Shannon was sick. He hoped little Courtney would be tough enough to survive.