“Must be some misunderstanding. I’m sure he’ll explain himself. Team guys are private. They don’t tell you much. Either I have to be okay with it, or sometimes I just insist he talk to me, and then he does.”
“Not sure I want him to be honest.”
Lindsay stared out the window as a couple walked in front of them on the outside, hand in hand. “Give him a chance, Megan. They’re worth it. You’ll regret it if you don’t give him a shot, maybe more than one.”
Chapter 6
‡
Moustafa thought he’d catch the military man slinking off early from her little love cave, but instead he found her leaving alone, dressed in the spandex women should never wear if they were decent. Seeing her alone, he was glad he’d snapped the pictures yesterday with the bearded one.
He watched her enter a yoga studio, with her mat rolled under one arm. He didn’t have to meet the two new recruits for another hour at least, so he sat back and decided to take a nap, checking his phone for messages first.
The tinkle of women’s voices and the roar of car motors and slamming of doors awakened him. He knew her red car was gone when he saw the vacant curb, so he traveled toward the little shopping center to see if perhaps she decided to run an errand before going home to shower. He was in luck. He found her going into a liquor store, so he parked and followed, urgently needing to be close to her flesh, spread some of his sweat on her.
They nearly collided as he entered the store. She brushed past him and he allowed himself to become aroused with this slight touch. He turned, watching her deposit the bag of items she’d bought into her trunk. She closed the lid and then approached the coffee shop next door.
The clerk looked Indian or perhaps Pakistani, and it was plain he didn’t care much for Moustafa, but there wasn’t anything he wanted to say to the man anyway.
The Prophet’s Warrior returned to his vehicle and watched as the woman sat with a friend. He toyed with the notion she might recognize him but told himself she wouldn’t. He couldn’t resist the thrill of getting close to her again, so tried making eye contact with her as he approached. She paid him no attention at all as he walked past the American women to order his double espresso.
He took one of the tables outside, where he could watch through the glass as the two of them spoke, heads close together. She looked worried, but the other woman was smiling.
He weighed back and forth whether he should call off the meeting with the new recruits and instead take the time to follow this new woman to her home. Then he would have a second prospect, but he resisted, deciding he’d follow her around another day. No doubt this young lady would be a good source of young innocent female flesh. There was plenty of time for that. Weeks or months even. Something big and coordinated would be coming, and he became hard thinking about the death and destruction which would rain down on such an unsuspecting population.
He did love America for its abundance. Abundance of people who would die for his teacher. It mattered little that they hadn’t chosen it. It mattered that they’d pay the ultimate price in blood.
Chapter 7
‡
Rory was slammed in the face with a pillow and, for a second, he didn’t know where he was. Before bed, he’d been watching TV accounts of hostages being murdered overseas. He and T.J. had viewed the reports without saying a word. He realized Shannon had been making comments for several minutes before she gave the baby to T.J. for a goodnight kiss and retired for the night. Rory was left staring at the black screen after T.J. followed her.
He’d been thinking about how it was for those overseas, especially the women, innocent ones, and children, dealing with the carnage and death and the sheer insanity of the situation. He would have to call it mass hysteria. His thoughts came back home as he realized what they’d all been told by command. It was coming to their shores. There would be innocents here in the U.S. who would be victims of terrorism. He hoped the country had the stomach for it. It was going to be brutal, but always more brutal for the ones who weren’t trained to deal with it like he was. Not that you could ever become acclimated to the senseless killing.
He also felt for the vets who had paid their price, and perhaps had come home less than whole, hoping to put all that behind them. How would it feel to them to experience the evil he knew was going to rain down on everyone within the U.S. borders? Americans were big talkers, especially in the government. Let’s see how they organize and take care of the population. Unfortunately, Rory knew they’d been raised with silver spoons, living off the ample teat of the money from special interests. Not sure he’d take many of them into a firefight. But there were a few. Sadly, only a few.
Time to step up, America, and see how much you value your freedom.
His brain had been ruminating on all these thoughts, vivid dreams putting him in an ice-water chill of sleep until the pillow hit him.
He was up and in T.J.’s face.
“Wow. Hold on there, cowboy!” T.J. hollered as he backed up and pushed his palms out toward him. “Now I know you weren’t dreaming of Megan.”
“Shut the fuck up. When I dream of the ladies, I don’t go hugging your ass in the morning, do I? How can you fuckin’ tell me what the fuck I was dreamin’? And besides, it’s none of your goddamned business.” He was irritated at himself for being irritated at T.J. He knew the frog prince was only trying to help.
“Boy, she really picked a scab.”
“Look, asshole, you can try to make me believe otherwise, but you and I both know this shit on T.V. affects us.” Rory was hoping T.J. would fall for the ruse and get off his case. He’d much rather discuss working in the arena than in the bedroom, even if T.J. was one of his best friends, a man who would die for him in a heartbeat.
“No, you was as sore as could be before all this happened. Point of fact is the T.V. mellowed you somewhat. That and the beers.”
Rory picked up the pillow and hurled it back at T.J., almost overturning a lamp.
And that got to T.J. “Asshole,” he said as he slammed the pillow to the ground, “So you’re having a bad day, a bad evening. I don’t care if you have a bad fuckin’ life, but don’t you fuckin’ mess up my wife’s house, understand?”
Rory backed up, scowled and couldn’t believe himself. His emotions were all over the lot. T.J. was too perceptive. Something had gotten under his skin, had started to breed and had little ones with little pointy heads and a death wish like when he was an orphan kid. He knew he was skirting on the outsides of acceptable behavior. Had already crossed the line, in fact.
“I’m going to get out of your face now, T.J. I owe you an apology,” he finally said and headed for the door.
T.J. stopped him. “Nope. Not that simple. We’re taking you up to the snow.”
“Who? You and your fairy godmother? No. I don’t want to go to the snow.”
“A bunch of us. It was arranged this morning. And you’re going, too.”
“I hate the fuckin’ snow.”
“Kyle says to get used to it.”
Oh fuck. That meant our next deployment in three months was going to be someplace cold. Merry Christmas. They usually trained in Alaska.
“So we doing a training soon?”
“We thought we’d get a warm-up this weekend. Then when we do leave, we won’t be so rusty. We don’t get the tough winters here.”
No kidding.
Rory watched Shannon, T.J.’s wife, bring little Courtney down the hallway to her father. Shannon lifted the baby to T.J.’s huge arms and once she was settled in, gave her legendary feisty-sexy look to Rory.
“You’ve been a bad boy, Rory. Careful you don’t get Fredo too worked up. Not good for your health.” The last part she said glancing casually over her shoulder, her tight jeans hugging all the right parts, which Rory knew T.J. enjoyed thoroughly on a regular basis. Suddenly married life wasn’t looking so bad.
Courtney was clutching T.J.’s little finger and could hardly get a full grip. The big SE
AL was completely engrossed in his diminutive daughter.
“The frog prince and the pink princess,” Rory said before he could stop himself.
“Yeah, well you better hope the affliction catches hold of you, Rory. Only one thing better than a woman in your life.”
“Two women,” they both said in tandem.
“Damn straight.” He gently rocked his daughter and glanced up at Rory, the inquiry on his face all too obvious.
“No, man. I don’t do babies.”
“Try it.”
“No, I’m not going there.”
“You afraid of this little one?” He held Courtney up to near-sitting position so she could look over at Rory, and before her eyes could find him, she threw up all over her belly.
“See, she can’t stand the sight of me,” Rory said.
“Well then, I have no worries, do I?” T.J. started heading back toward the bedroom. “Be right back.”
In just under three hours, their caravan of Hummers and four-door pickups carried six SEALs and their gear to the ski resort. Rory’s mood had warmed considerably as they concentrated on tasks to get them ready for the trip. Quietly, all the bags had been stowed in racks on the two Hummers, or secured in the truck beds. Everything was tied, double-tied, and double-checked as a community effort. Doing this required little talking, and joking around might make it so something wasn’t properly fastened down. That meant equipment would be needlessly lost. That was a no-go. The normal smack-talk was gone, useless as a flat tire.
But on the trip, it was another story.
Fredo was least tolerant of the snow, yet he was one of the fastest snowboarders of the team, with his powerful bullet-shaped body. On the slopes, he paid attention to lesser-experienced boarders, but Team Guys had to find ways to scramble away from him if he was coming down the slope behind them. Then it was every man for himself. He’d run his share of guys off into the woods upside down. Rory knew Fredo would be gunning for him to make up for his big mouth the night before.
He got in line to ride the lift with T.J. and feathered in with a group who had come from the lodge.
“How’s your head?” T.J. asked. “Want something for it?”
“Nah, I’m good. Just freezing my nuts off. My first run and I’ll be warmed up.”
They caught the lift, and both of them zipped up their suits, knowing it would get colder the higher they got. They followed kids in skis bobbing in front of them, their tips sometimes crashing into each other. Far below, the snow was already well traveled. A hat and a pole lay where they’d been dropped due to someone’s inattention.
They smoothly exited at the top and collected their boards, stomping out the fresh snow and pressing down into their straps, allowing them to click into place. Almost in tandem Rory and T.J. cleaned their dark glasses, cinched up their gloves and wiggled their hips to position their boards to the slope. T.J. motioned for Rory to go first, so he leaned to the side and began to take off down the hill. His buddy was right behind him.
Rory’s heart was racing with his first run of the day. It was also the first run of the season. It had been over a year since he’d been on his board, because last year at this time they were overseas on an out-of-rotation assignment. His joints were strong, but he was lacking practice so his balance and wasn’t as smooth and fluid as he would be once he had a few more runs under his belt. The bottom of the slope was a minefield peppered with kids, beginning skiers and boarders of all levels crisscrossing each other’s tracks. They were going inside, turning to go back up the lift, or heading to stand in line by one of the other lifts.
Rory had been so careful not to take a fall that T.J. had actually beat him to the bottom, which irked him a little. T.J. thumbed toward the other side. “Saw Coop, Ollie and Brady over there.” He pointed. Rory eyed the lift with a long line attached to it like an umbilical cord.
“They’ll wait for us at the top,” T.J. said.
Rory nodded and took up his position. They were coming under some heavy scrutiny from two young college-aged girls who giggled and whispered, stealing glances Rory tried to ignore. When their chair arrived and whisked them away, he was grateful for the distance the lift gave them.
T.J. was trying to stuff down a grin, but failing. “I would have switched with one of them, or better yet, I could’ve taken their seat and you could have had them both to yourself.”
“Nice one, T.J. Better behave or I’ll weave a story when I get home that Shannon won’t like one bit.”
“I’m clean.”
“Hell you are. I can fuckin’ read your mind.” He pointed to the girls with the end of his glove. The girls had begun the steep ascent and were hanging nearly thirty feet above them. “That’s trouble. Not anything I want anything to do with.”
“Focused on the mission, are we?” T.J.’s actor good looks were always disarming. His clear blue eyes and blindingly white teeth made it so Rory had to look away to avoid being teased for gawking. Everyone knew he wasn’t, of course, but T.J. was that good looking. And totally comfortable with it, too, needling everyone with the effect it had on the rest of his team.
Rory, on the other hand, felt like a piece of roughed up sandpaper, crumpled and well used for his age. He also sported more wounds on him, especially from errant projectiles, which sometimes got away from him. He and Fredo were always the ones closest to any explosive devices they set or tried to defuse.
He drew in the cold crisp air, blew out white vapor, and spoke to the big SEAL beside him. “I’m just trying to get loose. Been a couple of funny days. I’m tight, and I don’t like that.”
T.J. shared a common background with Rory, having been tossed around the system without ever knowing his parents. Rory knew T.J. had demons he carried from childhood. It didn’t take much for him to feel bad about himself, though he would never say it.
“I feel you. Doesn’t happen to me so much anymore. Kind of found myself with Shannon and Courtney, you know?”
Rory looked away. “I fuckin’ know. Would you stop with all the baby talk, T.J.? I told you, I’m not doing that.”
“I’ll remind you some day when you’re dashing off to labor and delivery, you asshole. Boy, do I pity the little girl who has to have a mug like yours. She’ll probably have a beard, too!”
Rory punched his buddy in the arm, then scrubbed his hat right off his head and let it fall to the ground below as they continued their climb. T.J. had his hands on Rory’s hat, and then one of his gloves and tossed them over into the snow as well. There was a lull and then the fight was on. They began punching each other, tearing at each other’s jackets, glasses, gloves, and finally the boards. By the time they made it to the top, they stood in their turtlenecks and snowboard pants without gloves or any equipment besides shoes. Subsequent seats of skiers and boarders were laughing as they watched the two muscular guys continue the shoving and name calling until it disintegrated into rolling in the snow.
Rory began to chuckle as he felt the pain in his chest lighten, realizing how stupid they’d been. It was going to be a long walk under the chairlift to gather all their things. He realized T.J. was busting a gut too. They both fell backwards in the snow, laughing so hard Rory nearly peed his pants.
“On second thought,” Rory said through his tears, trying to catch his breath, “I think you should have let me have the girls. At least I’d not be fuckin’ having to walk down the hill like some scared skier.”
T.J.’s laughter peeled away in another round. “Yeah, but in that case, they’d be nekked by the time they got to the top, and I don’t think these people—,” he pointed to the small crowd that had begun to gather, “—would be too amused.”
Rory got to his feet, dusted the snow from his hair and his neck, pants and butt. “Show’s over,” he said as his arms went wide to the side.
A well-placed snowball landed on Rory’s neck so hard it nearly knocked him over. He whirled around, seeing Fredo rush by and down the hill. Over the top of his head Rory saw F
redo raise a glove in the three-finger salute. He swore he’d exact revenge on Fredo, or he’d go to the hospital trying.
Chapter 8
‡
Megan got to the bookstore early to tend to the tables and chairs she left behind when they’d left so suddenly last night. Her boss wasn’t due in for at least an hour, but she wanted to make sure the room was completely ready for customers. She got a cappuccino from the coffee staff and hid it on one of the shelves behind the sales terminal. She wasn’t used to having two strong coffees in one morning, especially since taking her hot yoga class, but she found the coffee soothing.
Lindsay told her the boys were up at the snow and asked her if she wanted to go. She would have had to take off a day at work, so she declined. As the morning wore on, she began to reconsider her decision. If Lindsay’s husband, Brady, were going to be there then Rory wouldn’t be far away since they served in the same platoon. She also didn’t want to give the appearance of chasing him. Or did she?
Am I chasing him?
Well yes, she knew she was. Might as well be honest and admit it.
All morning she helped people find books and then rang up their purchases. She could still hear him, feel the touch of his callused fingers as he stroked over her skin and followed up with wet kisses.
Her pleasant daydreams came to an abrupt end when Grant walked into the bookstore and headed straight for her. She hadn’t heard from him in the three months since their breakup. He looked angry. She shielded herself quickly behind the counter.
Grant had long hair he wore over the side in what would some day be a comb-over. But right now, he had plenty of sandy straight hair that was always getting into his eyes. He worked as a reporter for the local paper. With his tweed jacket and horn-rimmed glasses, he easily could have passed for a college professor.
She could see his look soften, the closer he got to her. His wedding ring was missing like the first time they had gone out.
SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) Page 4