SEALed At The Altar_Bone Frog Brotherhood Novel

by Sharon Hamilton

  Tucker’s class was made up of about one-third officers. The instructors called them the “Gentlemen’s Club.” A lot was made of the enlisted men vs. officers, with choice comments. Tucker laughed at some of these, but didn’t dare show it.

  “You think you can carry that boat because you have a college education, boys? That you don’t want to get your hands dirty, that it? Why, that just gives you an excuse to take it easy. In this class, we don’t get over the finish line until we all get over the finish line. That means you officers are at a disadvantage. Life’s about to get hard. Real fuckin’ hard. I don’t mean hard-on.”

  This usually caused one or two of the enlisted men to chuckle. That would send them scraping the bottom of boats with their own toothbrush, or running extra laps.

  Every hometown was denigrated as breeding the lowest of the low, that they should consider themselves lucky to even be in their presence.

  Tucker was called Grandpa and Pops more than he was called his name. One of the worst badmouths on the instructor team was a recruit he’d actually prepared. He was doing a rotation as an instructor while his leg injury healed.

  “I remember you. You were that old guy who thought he was all buff and tried to scare the shit out of all us. Oh man. Payback’s a bitch. Your ass is mine now!”

  Tucker had to do extra pull-ups because he’d made so much fun of him during his own training.

  “Show them how you fuckin’ show off. We used to dream at night we’d find you in a dark alley.”

  These shouts and insults did get under his skin. But it made him wish he’d been tougher on the guys than he had been. If, God forbid, he should take a turn at being an instructor and one of them decided to go back in, he knew he’d dish it out even more. Because it was good for him. It was good for all of them. And it was meant to stress out the ones who were going to wash out anyway later on. Just like carrying boats over rocks in twelve-man crews, rubbing all the hair off their scalps, over and over again, there wasn’t any way around this but to find the ones who could somehow get up and over those rocks without breaking their ankles.

  After Hell Week, there were only about twenty per cent of the men left. The ones who dropped out had to chase the truck with the bell in the back of it. You couldn’t just walk into the office and say you quit. You had to do a good quit, not a sissy quit. You had to be humiliated and catcalled so that you were clear this was not for you.

  He called Brandy at the end of that week. He needed some TLC and he was going to take it.

  She met him at the training facility parking lot, and had secured a nearby motel room, and not one of the expensive ones. Money was tight for them. He fell asleep in the car on the way over. He awoke to her trying to yank his enormous frame from the passenger seat. At first, he thought he was still at the beach inhaling saltwater, but as he regained his wits, he tried to help her lead him to the second floor room.

  “Should have gotten a first floor.”

  “I can see that now.”

  “I told you to get the first floor,” he whined, but he didn’t care.

  “Shut up and save it for the third time you qualify. I’ll remember then, okay?”

  “Oh man, you got a mouth on you. I’ll bet you suck dick real good too.”

  “Sure I do, not that you’ll ever find out, because you can’t stop snoring. I’ll bet you fall asleep in the middle of sex, too.”

  Brandy indeed had one of the most wicked mouths ever invented. He was trying to tell her so when she got him inside the door, and pushed him onto the bed.

  “Ouch! I’m hurting all over.”

  “Really? That’s what happens when you garden too much. You’ve just been lying on the beach, sunning yourself.”

  He tried to see that mouth that was making him mad, and horny at the same time.

  “Come here.”

  “I don’t do orders like that.”

  “Please.”

  “Okay, please.”

  “Please like please pass the salsa or please like please stop talking and take off all your clothes?”

  “Hey, lover-boy. You can talk a good talk, but I’ll bet you don’t even have the strength to get your clothes off.”

  She was smiling down on him, hands on those lovely hips. And she was wearing a nice scoop top with what had to be the strongest pushup bra invented because he could rest a basketball on her shelf with no problem. He was going to show her he could do anything he wanted. He could run five miles and still get it up with her. He could—

  Tucker woke up the next morning still wearing the same clothes she’d picked him up in. She’d thrown a blanket over him, leaving him just the way he’d fallen. Even left his boots on. But, as his eyes focused and he beheld the warm fleshy glow of her body lying beautifully naked next to him, the urgency to join her was overwhelming. He suddenly had the power of a team of mules.

  He sat up. Yes, there was pain under his arms, and in his groin area. His feet hurt too, and soon he found out why. Every single toenail was bright green. The green algae extended to mid calf, where the socks and lace-up boots stopped. His shoes were so ripe, he tossed them against the room door. This woke her up, with a start.

  “You didn’t even take off my clothes!”

  “What’s that smell?” She held her nose and then followed his line of sight until she discovered his frog feet. “Oh dear. Your inner Shrek is sprouting. You didn’t happen to cross paths with a witch somewhere in Coronado, did you?”

  “That. Was. Unkind.”

  She rolled over on her back, giggling, one arm shading her forehead and gave him a very welcoming grin. The covers revealed just enough breast to make him hard instantly.

  “Wouldn’t have made any difference. You weren’t going to do anything anyway. I just let you sleep.” She followed it up with a sweet smile, but then she licked her lips and he forgot about his green feet, and climbed on top of her.

  “Pew. You need a shower, sailor.”

  “Yes, I do. But you’re coming with me.” He kissed her, traveling down under her ear and then sucked that overzealous nipple that dared to pert up on her. He licked that thing to submission and it wasn’t long before she was writhing, doing things with her hands he was supposed to do.

  “Don’t you get started without me, Brandy. I want to feel and taste all of it right there with you, honey.”

  She brought one of her hands up and saluted him. Her fingers were wet. It was so unfair!

  He pulled her arm and got her to standing position, her long shiny hair covering her shoulders and those gorgeous mounds.

  “Now you have to work,” he said.

  “What do you mean? You think it was easy getting you through that door and up the stairs? Ha!”

  She crossed her arms, defiant. Oh she was dangerous.

  “Okay, so you worked a little bit. Now your job is to undress me.”

  Those lovely fingers slipped in and around his buttons, zippers, undoing his belt as she pulled the stiff saltwater-washed uniform off his body. When he was completely naked, she screamed and jumped back a foot.

  He looked down to determine what she’d seen. Little rivulets of blood oozed from his underarms. A matching pair were in his groin area, caused by the friction of his wet suit which he had to wear or freeze to death during the midnight wet-n-sandys. But standing loud and proud, his dick was perfect. Smooth, and bright purple-red, veins bulging and ready to burst. He imagined she might think it was the cherry on top. He couldn’t help it. She made everything perform like a rock star.

  When his gaze returned to hers, he saw she was licking her lips again, and she began to kneel.

  He wanted a shower, but, by God, if she’d just take him into her mouth, he’d take care of all the rest. He knew making love to her was going to get him healed and right with the world ten times faster than it normally would have done.

  Chapter 13

  It had been nearly twenty-four hours since she’d eaten and Brandy was starved. Tucker was snoring on
his belly. The shower hadn’t entirely gotten rid of the green.

  “Lover boy,” she whispered in his ear. One enormous paw grabbed her forearm.

  “You’re not getting away yet.”

  “I don’t want to get away, but I’m hungry. Haven’t I performed enough to deserve at least a cheese omelet?”

  “How about room service?”

  “Tucker, not sure if you remember, but this wasn’t exactly the suite at the Hotel Del. The Lamplighter doesn’t have a restaurant. They don’t even have a coffee maker in the room. And I’m starving.”

  He let go of her arm, and then pulled himself up. “Oh, I suppose we could take a short break.”

  “And you did ask me to set up something so you could see Brawley, remember?”

  His eyes were roaming all over her chest again. “I think that was your idea, not mine.”

  She hit him with a pillow. “You liar.”

  He laughed and feigned being hurt with the soft fluffy material. “Down, woman! Down! Remember, I have injuries.”

  “Not to the parts that count.”

  “I’m glad you noticed.” His boyish grin made her melt. It would have been easy to just say the heck with it and just play in bed all day. She loved the play, but she was truly hungry. And arranging the visit with Brawley was tricky. In his delicate condition, she didn’t think it was wise to keep him waiting.

  “Tucker, we have to be at the clinic at ten. That gives us about an hour for breakfast. I. Need. Food.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She handed him a change of clothes he’d asked for, and they set out in search of an omelet.

  At ten, they were waiting for an audience with Brawley’s doctor before seeing him.

  Dr. Raj was from India. His handsome face beamed when he saw Tucker. “I heard all about you, Tucker. Going through all the qualifications again. Quite impressive!”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  “What’s it like doing it again? Harder or easier?”

  “I really can’t say. I mean, some parts are harder, some easier.”

  The doctor nodded.

  “Actually, sir, I’m waiting for the easy part, come to think of it. I’ve got some pretty big chafing holes in my skin under my arms and right here.” He demonstrated the spots at the top of his thighs on the inside.

  Dr. Raj made a face. “I’ll bet those wounds are huge, then. I can get you some good antibiotic cream. Best thing is to not move much, and keep it dry, clean and don’t irritate it with clothing. But of course, you can’t walk around naked.”

  Even for an Indian doctor, Brandy could see he blushed.

  “Oh we’re doing fine on the last part. But not so much on the movement.”

  “I understand. Well, I’ll see to it that you get some of that cream before you leave. Now, about Brawley.”

  “Yes, we’d like to see him,” Tucker said.

  “And I think that would be good. We’re trying to introduce things back into his life that perhaps he forgot. For instance, he doesn’t remember his wife at all.”

  “Oh dear,” sobbed Brandy.

  “I think he started to disengage before he actually left the team. It is a form of Post Traumatic Stress. Gradually, his brain will let him absorb other people, and then the memories will return. But, he could have a serious gap that won’t return, I’m afraid. We won’t know for some time. Every case is different.”

  “Does he know Tucker is going to see him today.”

  “He’s been told, yes. Just don’t react if he says or does things you don’t understand. We want to include him in our lives. He can’t do it the other way around.”

  As they walked down the softly lit hallway, Tucker whispered a question to Brandy.

  “Is this the VA? Not at all the facility I remember.”

  She realized she’d forgotten to tell him about the clinic. “Libby Brownlee’s dad arranged this for Brawley. And he’s bankrolling it, too. He’s getting the very best brain injury care in the country, part of Scripps. I’m afraid the VA has a ways to go before we see this kind of service for our Vets.”

  “Good for him. I met him a few times before. He’s our unofficial Team doctor, you know.”

  She took his hand, lowering her voice again, “Yes, I know. In fact, I know a whole lot more than I did just a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t been sleep deprived and doing boat drills like you have. But I’ve been studying too.”

  Tucker squeezed her hand, then drew it to his lips and kissed her. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  They were shown the doorway to a pleasant room decorated with pictures and live plants. Tucker saw that Brawley’s family photos were displayed all over the wall, including his wedding pictures. On the space next to the window was a much younger Tucker photo. He was standing next to a younger version of his best friend, in front of some white mountains, their arms locked around one another, smiles as wide as Brandy had ever seen.

  “From our first deployment in Afghanistan,” Tucker whispered.

  Behind a curtain, they heard the familiar voice. “Tucker, is that you?”

  Doctor Raj gave them a thumb’s up, and held ten fingers in the air. Tucker acknowledged with a nod. Brandy slipped into the corner and took a seat as her big hunk pulled back the curtain. Brawley’s eyebrows rose.

  “Fuckin’ about time. They said you were on vacation or some shit. Get your ass over hear, and break me outa this place, will you?”

  Tucker embraced his buddy, tears streaming down his cheeks. Brawley also began to cry. “You’re back, buddy. You came back.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. But hey, I didn’t do the heavy lifting. They could have left me on the beach with all those senoritas, but no, they had to spoil the fun and drag my ass here.” He wiped his face with the back of his hands, and then stopped as he noticed Brandy.

  “Well, hello there little lady. When did they sneak you in here?”

  “She’s with me, you goofball,” said Tucker, his lips still rubbery with emotion. “This is Brandy, and she’s going to be my wife, so hands off.”

  “Sure. Just like you, Tucker. Tell me the prettiest girl is yours. You selfish bastard.”

  She approached the bed. “Hey Brawley, nice to see you again. So glad you made it back.” She shook his hand and he grabbed her toward him and gave her a proper hug.

  “I’ll be damned. She said again, Tucker. So she’s met me before too. Like the other pretty one.” He glanced around as if looking for permission. “Can you believe it? She claims to be my wife!”

  Brandy saw Dr. Raj cover his mouth just outside Brawley’s line of sight.

  “I know.” Tucker drew his arm around Brandy’s waist and claimed her back. “You could have done much worse. I’d just sit back and enjoy it. She could have been a horse-faced woman with a beard. It will be like falling in love all over again, my man. You lucky bastard.”

  “I intend to do lots of research.”

  “Yes, best to take your time and savor every moment.”

  Brawley blinked and appeared to lose continuity because his expression changed. “Hey, not sure how long you’re staying, but could you ask that little Indian fellow if he could get us some pizza. I’m fuckin’ starved.”

  Dr. Raj appeared on cue. “Brawley, I’ll see to it right away. Unfortunately these two have to cut their time short today.” He handed his patient a photograph from his own wedding. “But they brought this for you. See? This is them at your wedding just a few months ago. See? There’s Tucker, and there’s Brandy.”

  He stared down at the picture and then took it gently from Dr. Raj’s fingers. “I remember that dance. That was you!” He pointed directly at Brandy.

  “It was. We were showing off, remember?” Brandy said enthusiastically. She was delighted the old Brawley, or some form of him, had reappeared.

  Dr. Raj winced and shook his head slightly at the word choice, but he left it to Brawley to react.

  “You were sexy as hell. And you got sick. Now, I bet you do
n’t remember that, do you?”

  His grin was a joy to watch. And he was partially right. She’d been so drunk that New Year’s Eve, lots of the reception was a blur.

  “That’s where we met, so I owe it all to you,” whispered Tucker.

  “How about that?”

  Dr. Raj carefully extricated them after the good-byes were exchanged. In the hallway, all three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

  “That was about as perfect as I’d hoped,” he said.

  “You gotta let the Team come in here. I think he can handle it.”

  “You might be right.”

  “And they’ll needle the shit out of him, too. Just wait. He’s gonna feel just like I do going through BUD/S. It’s what he’s used to. Been like that his whole life, even as a kid.”

  “Thank you.” Now it was Dr. Raj’s turn to develop tears. He was going to say something else, but Brawley’s hoarse voice pierced the sound barrier.

  “Hey, where’s my pizza!”

  Chapter 14

  Tucker found the next two phases of BUD/S easier. The instructors didn’t yell at him so loud, which kind of pissed him off. He didn’t want to be known as a weakling, or anything approaching being fragile. He wanted to be the one to show them how it was done. It was dangerous to have that attitude, so he worked to make sure it didn’t show up in his team dynamics.

  Because of his previous experience on the Teams, the instructors gave him hints about what might be sprung on the class the next day. “Don’t bother to shower, you’ll be wet all day,” or, “Go light on the breakfast. A little choppy out there on the bay today.” One suggestion he really appreciated was, “Pick the big guys today. The Smurfs are going to get wasted.” Tucker had been nursing a cold and thoroughly enjoyed sitting on the sunny beach watching as every other boat crew had to go in and out all afternoon. Because they’d come in first, they earned the right to rest and restore. It wasn’t much, but it was as good as doing wet-n-sandy in a heated bathtub.