by Kaylea Cross
Testing him, she moved closer to feel his hardness against her belly until he moved back, separating them. Then he withdrew his mouth and enveloped her in his arms, hugging her tight, but safely. It wasn’t a sexual hold. It was how someone would hug a child they wanted to protect.
* * *
Cooper was grateful at first that Libby didn’t want to talk as he drove her car back to her parents’ house. But soon the thickness of the dark space between them pressed against him and raised his hackles. It was always like this when he was ready to walk into harm’s way. He’d learned to pick up the hotheads—people with strong emotions and the weird energy emanating from the insanity of life under extreme pressure. His training gave him the instincts to recognize when those around him were overwhelmed and would do things they normally wouldn’t do.
He’d asked her if she wanted to go somewhere for breakfast, but she politely declined. Part of him was grateful for that.
As the blocks leading up to the Brownlee home passed, he began to relax. He was getting more and more confident a major scene had been averted. She was a strong girl. God, how he loved that about her. She bore her pain silently, didn’t go bringing down the whole world when she was hurting. Kind of reminded him of the way he’d been brought up, and then trained as a SEAL. Okay to feel the hurt. Not okay to show it.
Except this time, something felt slightly off, as if he should be sharing something more with her. He didn’t want to tell her thank you for the great sex they’d had. He couldn’t apologize. He just needed to shut the fuck up. And keep his fly buttoned.
He parked her car at the curb behind a pickup truck. His scooter had been moved to the side yard, a safe distance away from the garage doors. He went around the car to open Libby’s door, but she was already out and walking up the brick walkway, past the now infamous mailbox. She walked tall. He could tell from her gait she was holding her breath.
At the front door, she abruptly turned and extended her hand.
“Thank you for the good time. Good luck on your next deployment.”
He avoided the obviously ridiculous handshake and had to look down. She was way too brave for him right now. It wouldn’t be proper to show her anything of his soft side.
Tilting his head to look to the house next door, he began, “I’m not really the one you want, Libby.” She didn’t say anything, so he got the courage to scan her face, and stepped to put his arms around her waist. “But if I was—”
Just then the front door opened. Carla Brownlee came outside to join the two of them on the porch. Cooper dropped his arms immediately, took a step back and cleared his throat.
“Oh. I thought I heard something. Forgive me for intruding,” Carla said with a shy smile. As an afterthought, she added, “Glad you’re home safe and sound. Your father’s been worried and…”
“Please, Mom, “ Libby began. Cooper could tell she was annoyed with her mother. “I just need a minute. I’ll be right in.”
“Cooper, you kids want something to eat? I still have breakfast out,” Carla Brownlee asked.
“No, ma’am. But thanks. I’ve got to go.” Food was the last thing on his mind.
Carla retreated inside the house and closed the heavy glass and metal door behind her. Just then, Cooper realized that her mother had seen his embrace with Libby and had still chosen to interrupt.
No matter. We’re done, anyway. He was sad, but getting used to the feeling. He knew a couple of guys who could help him forget his woes. An action plan was forming.
Then he remembered the cat, the letters and the possible danger Libby and her family were in. Well, he could do something about that. It was wise he extract himself from her life, but he needed to let her know she could still count on him, in an emergency.
“You’re going to want to cooperate with the police fully,” he said. “They know how to handle creeps like this. My hope is that he’ll either be stupid and get himself caught, or tire of the caper and go prey on someone else. But do everything they tell you to do, okay?”
Libby nodded her head like she was seven and he’d just told her how to feed a cat.
“Give me your cell,” he said.
At first, Libby furrowed her eyebrows, cocking her head to the side. While he remained quiet, she began the task of rummaging through her considerably filled bag until she produced her phone from the bottom. She presented it to him with a huff. Her gentle scent filled his nostrils and he started to get hard.
He began to punch numbers into her contacts file. “This is my cell, but it won’t look like this number when I call you because it’s scrambled in the routing.”
“Okay.” She was looking down as his fingers worked.
“Call me if something happens. I can be here usually in less than a half hour. Don’t go anywhere without your cell, okay? That way, you’re always tracked.”
“Tracked? You actually think I’m in danger of being kidnapped?”
“Of course not,” he said, but felt his stomach clench. “I just want you to be careful.”
“I see,” she said with steely coldness. “Protection, using my head, being prepared, like I so haven’t been doing the last two days.”
It hurt, but anger flared up inside him at her reaction to his genuine concern for her safety. He was only trying to help and here she threw it in his face.
Women!
“Be safe, Libby,” he whispered.
“Of course I’ll be safe. I have my cell phone to protect me.” She held the phone up in his face, and then entered the front door, slamming it behind her.
Cooper cracked his neck and rotated his right shoulder. He turned, and walked across the pathway in front of the triple garage doors, and drove off on his red scooter.
* * *
A half hour later, Cooper was devouring a large crab omelet at the Scupper. He saw the familiar stubby shadow of Fredo at the doorway, walking into the ever-dark restaurant bar. Fredo sniffed the air right in front of his table.
“I don’t smell dog,” he said.
“Fuck you, Fredo. Bay’s at home. He figured he wasn’t exactly welcome here.”
“Oh, he’s okay. It’s his dog hair and salt water-smelling pelt that isn’t,” Fredo said with a wince. He hailed the waitress for some coffee, and sat down across from Cooper.
“So, you want to hit Gunny’s after breakfast, or you get enough exercise this morning?” Fredo looked up at Coop under his bushy eyebrows. Creases on his forehead made him resemble a Shar Pei.
Cooper knew he deserved the ribbing. He’d neglected his best friend and constant companion. They commonly introduced themselves as twins. It never ceased to draw laughter from the fairer sex since there was more than a foot difference in their heights. Cooper resembled a Viking king and Fredo a Mayan priest.
“Sounds good to me. You eat?”
“You’ll be happy to know I did. Armani’s mom made some fresh salsa and I doused everything in it.”
“I’ll bet.” Cooper finished the last bite of breakfast and took a long sip of water. After grabbing several packets of sugar, stuffing them into his back pocket, he rose and brought his tag over to the cash register. Fredo followed behind.
“Let’s take the truck. You can get your scooter later. Or, do you want to scratch it up putting it in the back?”
“I’m leaving it right here. Safer than Gunnys’.”
Cooper opened the rusted green door to Fredo’s beater and climbed inside. He found the floor of the truck after brushing aside a few fast food wrappers with his canvas slip-ons. He flicked the hula girl stuck to Fredo’s dash and she performed for him.
The smoking truck made it down the quiet street, backfiring just before they turned right. After a short drive over the bridge to the Strand at Coronado, they drove a few more blocks until they crossed railroad tracks in an industrial area. Gunny’s Gym it said on the plate glass window. Below the lettering was a Popeye-like character holding a barbell, sporting an anchor tattoo on his forearm.
&n
bsp; They pushed open Gunny’s glass front door, tinkling the little bell hung at the top of the doorframe. Gunny was reading the paper, but the TV was blaring a newstalk program. Two older well-built men were spotting each other with free weights. Cooper recognized them as retired SEALs from Team 5.
“Gents,” he said to them. He got a nod for his effort.
“Well, if it isn’t lover boy,” Gunny blurted out loud enough for the silver SEALs to hear. Cooper sighed and prepared himself for another ribbing. It was always this way. Everyone in the whole community knew he’d just lost his entire family. Knew he’d spent some time with a sweet young thing after he got back. Knew that Timmons had ordered him to stand down for a few days, and knew that the only thing he probably wanted to do was go back on deployment to forget about both situations.
They also probably knew that it could cost him his life if he didn’t pay close attention when he returned overseas. There was no way in Hell he would make it without the community around him, but he could be counted on to get himself right in the head so he wouldn’t be anyone’s liability.
Cooper was just going to do what everyone expected of him: do some PT, physical training, get some rest, keep his damn mouth shut, and deal with it.
Gunny threw white towels at both of them. It was going to be a hot day, and the ex-Marine was wearing a logo t-shirt with the sleeves generously cut out of it. As he bent over to wipe down a couple of benches and some of the rusty iron equipment, Coop could see the edges of Gunny’s tattoo inked right over the man’s sternum. He knew it read, “Already Gave,” which was a comment intended to address the sorry son-of-a-bitch who might try to harvest Gunny’s lungs in the event of his demise.
Cooper searched the rack of free weights while he wondered about Gunny’s health. It was widely held among those in the community that Gunny was just too ornery to succumb to his cancer. He was one tough Marine. One lung had been cut out a couple of years ago, and the other one was working overtime on half speed. Didn’t help that Gunny still occasionally smoked, in spite of the cancer.
Gunny didn’t have fancy equipment at the gym. Nothing digital, except for a scale. He’d been forced to get the new one because guys kept tinkering with the old manual one to cheat. The floor was covered with heavy black mats that smelled of plastic and sweat. That made it easy to throw down the barbells when a man was finished. That was one of the unwritten rules everyone followed here. Placing the barbells carefully back on their rack instead of throwing them to bounce on the mats made a newcomer stand out like a lamb in a stampede.
Kyle and Armando arrived, laughing about something so hard, they bumped into the side of the doorway. Armando swore as he rubbed his right shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the contact. Both of them stopped short when they saw Cooper.
“I’ll be damned,” Armando said. “Didn’t think I’d see you for another couple of days at least. What happened?” The Puerto Rican SEAL grinned, as his hands gripped his hips. Armando was shirtless, except for his dog tags.
Fredo offered an answer. “You know he’s got that dog. Small place. Ew!”
Even Gunny laughed at that one.
Cooper knew he wasn’t required to answer, but it was important he show he wasn’t overly sensitive. He knew Kyle was still assessing his mental state.
“She has to eat and shop some time.” He shrugged, figuring it might be believable. No sense drawing attention to their breakup.
“She’s gotta get rid of the fleas, first,” Fredo quipped. Cooper pushed him off the bench and the short SEAL fell backward on his rear.
Kyle came over and drew an arm over Cooper’s shoulders, which was difficult because of the difference in their sizes. “Good to see you here, sailor,” he said. “Armani here’s looking for houses for Mia this afternoon. I think he might need your opinion on all the gadgets.”
“Just what I wanted to do this afternoon,” Cooper returned. And why not? It was good to pretend things were back to normal. A year and a half ago, Armando’s sister, Mia, had been kidnapped and had just barely been able to bring a baby to term throughout the ordeal. The Team had rescued her and Armando, who had been abducted to ensnare their Team leader, Kyle, in a gun-smuggling ring. Afterwards, they’d done their 4-month workup and then deployed. Now everyone was getting on with their lives.
Cooper glanced up at the TV monitor. In the center of the screen was a picture of the Brownlee home with the red banner below that read Breaking News.
Chapter Seventeen
Cooper, Kyle, Armando, Fredo and Gunny rode over to Libby’s house in Fredo’s four-door salvage beater. Cooper discovered he’d been rocking back and forth as he stared out the passenger side window.
Looking for what?
He wondered about so many things. The Team gave him a silent, wide berth as he thought about Libby and what they were going to face.
No. He just couldn’t bring himself to think anything serious or permanent had happened to her. What if she’s—?”
When they arrived, he noticed Kyle giving him the long look. Cooper had jumped out the door before their truck stopped rolling. Kyle, right behind him, slammed the rattling door of the old beater. Fredo and everyone else exited the other side.
Cooper was on his way to mounting the front steps two at a time to meet the yellow crime scene tape when Kyle grabbed his arm. “We wait for the Team, Coop,” Kyle reminded him.
Of course. This isn’t a single soldier mission or a suicide mission.
Fredo’s stance was rigid and wide as he whistled appreciation for the size of the Brownlee house. Blocking the street ahead of them was a large fire truck with two more parked just beyond.
“Her dad a rock star or some shit?” Fredo asked him.
“Doctor. Her dad’s a psychiatrist.”
The group stopped for a second and looked at Cooper like he was an idiot.
I am an idiot.
Fredo spoke the words Coop knew were coming. “Look, man. Something wrong with a man who would get snuggly with the daughter of a shrink who lives in this house. She’s got to be all fucked up, man.”
Coop reacted, but his liaison was quick to grab him from behind, keeping his arms pinned to his sides.
“Not helpful, Fredo. Your timing sucks big time.” Kyle shouted to his sharpshooter. He was struggling to keep Cooper restrained. He leaned into Coop’s ear and whispered, “You be careful, Coop. You know Fredo’s just jealous of your success.” Then his Chief laid a kiss on that same ear, which made Coop explode out of his restraints and whirl around to face his Team leader.
“Fuck you. Fuck you all,” Coop said as he sneered at their laughter. He usually didn’t mind the chuckles at his expense. But he didn’t like Libby being laughed at. Not today, when he wasn’t sure how she was doing and how he felt about it.
Well, he knew how he felt about it. He was scared he was too late. She’s not the fucked up one. I am. How the hell had he gotten so involved in such a tangled mess?
Coop rolled his neck and swung his arms around in the air to loosen his shoulder sockets. He felt Armando give him a big slap on the back, which started their forward momentum again.
“Don’t mind him, Coop. Fredo’s an asshole, and Kyle’s right. He’s fuckin’ jealous. Besides which, Mia turned him down again.”
“Now who’s the asshole?” Fredo shouted. Coop could see the embarrassment on his best friend’s face. The little Mexican SEAL was not very successful with the ladies. He acted like a teenager around Mia, Armando’s sister. Making matters worse, Mia kept forgetting Fredo’s name, calling him Frodo, which didn’t help the height-challenged Team guy.
“Alright, everybody chill,” came the command from their leader, Kyle. “We gotta focus on what’s going on. Then we’ll get the hell outa here. Just remember yourselves. We don’t really belong here.”
They came up to an African American uniformed policeman who stood just in front of the brick pathway to front door. On guard. The beefy guy gave Cooper a glare like he was th
e leader of a terrorist cell. Cooper saw he had unsnapped his holstered gun and was ready. His eyes softened when the officer got a look at Kyle, who stepped up to him and gripped his hand backwards and gave him a brief hug.
“Hey there, Lannie. You know these folks?” he asked.
“My medic does. There’s a girl inside he’s sweet on. She okay?”
Cooper winced but listened carefully.
The policeman grinned. “More than okay, I’d say.” He nodded in Cooper’s direction, “She’s fine.”
Cooper wasn’t liking the small talk. He was anxious to see her for himself. But he was relieved, just the same.
There wasn’t any smoke anywhere. “Please, can we go in?” Coop asked the dark officer.
With black gloves, the San Diego policeman nodded, adding, “Don’t touch anything, and if anyone throws you out, I wasn’t the one to let you in, okay? Say you snuck in behind me.”
“Got it,” Kyle said. “We’re known for being invisible anyway.”
The guard chuckled. The SEAL group made their way up the brick walkway to the front door like one crab-like creature. They walked in silence, carrying their chests tall, swinging their arms casually. Coop knew that on the inside they were ready for anything.
Maybe something to do with Libby’s mother, or Dr. Brownlee? Whatever it was, it had to be bad enough to draw out three huge engine crews.
The front door was ajar, so Kyle let Coop step into the entryway. The acrid smell of burning upholstery and woodwork hit his nose and made him cough. He lead their little SEAL delegation and caught Carla’s attention as she was coming out of the kitchen. Her face was white, her eyes wide, and for a moment, Cooper thought perhaps something terrible had happened to Dr. Brownlee. The news hadn’t said anything about someone being harmed. But Cooper knew that a fire, if it was that, was no accident.
“Oh Cooper,” she said as she ran over and gave him a hug. Then she adjusted her hair and stepped back, embarrassed.
“Ma’am. These are friends of mine. This is my Senior, Kyle Lansdowne. There’s Armando, Fredo and this here’s Gunny.” Everyone took turns shaking Mrs. Brownlee’s hand. She was speechless.