“Don’t know, Thane. Someone said it might be arson,” MacAvoy offered, shaking his head as he watched the firemen spray the building with their hoses in a hopeless attempt to stop the fire’s advance.
“What?” The crowd, close enough to hear, crowed together.
MacAvoy nodded. “Already spoke with the kitchen staff. I thought maybe it was an accident or an electrical fire. They said it didn’t start there.”
“Arson,” Marg murmured. “Who would want to burn down this wonderful old bar?”
Patrick shared a look with Thane. “Maybe the same guy who burned down a building in the industrial district last month. They called that one arson as well.”
“You have insurance for this place?” Thane asked MacAvoy.
He nodded, mute from his livelihood awash in flames. “I do,” he finally said, “but I don’t think I’m going to rebuild. I’m going to cash in and cash out. The wife wants me home at night. I’m not a young guy anymore.”
More people had gathered around the team and MacAvoy’s news spread in whispers.
“Where the hell are we going to party now?” Darcy wiped the tears from her face.
Thane ignored the little redhead plastered against his chest. “Anything we can do for ya, MacAvoy?”
“Nah, go on. I watched her go up forty years ago. I’m gonna stay and watch her come down.”
The guys all lowered their heads, nodding. MacAvoy’s loss had to be painful. Obviously, St. George’s was more than just a hangout for sailors. It was a cornerstone of Coronado. One of those places where you broke your teenage prohibition and experienced your first legal drink inside its walls. A landmark for passing adulthood or any achievement of merit mastered by the service personnel at the base.
“Cobbs, Austen! Come on, we’re gonna head over to the diner on Orange. You in?” Paul thumped Thane’s arm.
The guys shared a shrug. “Sure,” Thane answered.
Marg stayed put, her gaze on the inferno of smoke and flame. Who would do something like this? The question plucking at her thoughts.
“Hungry?” Patrick nudged her.
“Not really.” He removed his arm from her shoulders, and a shiver racked her body even though the flames infused the air with heat.
“Neither am I, but I’m thirsty.”
“Leaping fifteen feet to the ground will do that to a man.”
He gave her a shadowy grin. “So does trusting a bunch of strangers and jumping out of a window.”
“You could have broken your legs,” she said, but it came out like a mother reprimanding her rambunctious child.
“Not when you’re trained to do it. Coming?” He prompted.
“I guess. I’ll follow you.”
“You have a car here?”
She nodded.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
They picked up her car, parked a block away, and then she dropped him off at his bike. Patrick tossed on his helmet. His head swiveled to look her way as he fastened the chin strap. One powerful leg kicked the stand free as he started the engine. Marg had never been on the back of a motorcycle before. She almost turned off her car, hoping he’d invite her for a ride on his bike. When he nudged his head for her to go first, she let out a deep sigh. Maybe some other time.
They found two spots next to each other in the diner’s parking lot.
He opened the car door for her. “Nice car.”
“It was a gift.” She unbuckled and extended her leg, placing the tip of her shoe on the pavement. Patrick’s hand appeared, and she grasped it. With little effort, he drew her out of the car.
Patrick’s brows rose. “Pretty nice gift.”
“Graduation.”
They waited while the others parallel parked on the street. Anxious energy leaped with excitement because Patrick hadn’t released her hand yet. His aura surrounded her. Within a scant foot of one very viral man, she felt more like a woman than she’d ever felt in her life.
“When did you graduate?”
“Six months ago. And glad to be finished.”
“California college?”
“Harvard. They have an excellent business and economics program, but I majored in media studies.”
“I see.” Patrick nodded. “Congratulations. So you work for a modeling agency in their administration’s department?”
She tilted her head. “No, I have a modeling contract.”
“Uh-huh.” He cleared his throat and released her hand, extending his arm for her to lead the way. “Why don’t we head in and get a table for the team.”
She paused at his withdrawal. “You have something against models, sailor?” A ripple crossed his expression. One that vexed her. “Well, do you?” she pushed when he didn’t answer.
Stripped of the internal heat he caused when his gaze swept from her to the rest of the team who walked across the road toward them, she lost her patience. How rude! Didn’t polite people answer when you asked them a question?
His dark lashes highlighted his luminescent gaze. “You could have ended your career jumping out that window. Did you consider that?”
She shrugged. “I thought about burning to death. More of a motivator than broken limbs. Besides, if I don’t model I’ll do something else, like enlist.”
His shoulders flared back. “Enlist? Are you crazy?”
Putting a little distance between them, she said, “Not with a 4.0 grade point average.”
“With a degree you could enter the commissioned officer’s program. Public Affairs if you majored in media relations.”
“Or I could be an enlisted sailor.”
His taut chest jumped with a chuckle. “Don’t think you want to be a Sea Pussy.”
“Excuse me!”
Thane and the little redhead dangling on his arm walked by. Thane laughed. “Making a good impression already, Zodiak,” he scoffed.
Patrick ignored Thane, his full lips curled into a smile. “A yeoman, Marg, someone who does clerical work.”
“Oh.” A nervous laugh slipped out. “Don’t really think I’d enjoy being a secretary.” Unless, of course, it was for a hundred-year-old admiral who couldn’t chase her around a desk all day. She didn’t know for sure, but she’d put money down that her father had chased that bimbo secretary of his.
Patrick’s features slid back into dark and mysterious. “Don’t think a woman like you belongs in the Navy.”
“Like me?”
“Like you.” The timbre of his voice stirred hot coals between her legs.
In her twenty-one years on the planet, she’d experienced a lot of feelings, but never one that scrambled a murder of crows to take flight in her belly. Pat and she stared at each other. If she took a chance and asked him what he meant, she might not like the exact answer he would give. Instead, she forced her shoulders ramrod straight. Not backing down from his stare as if he dared her to ask, she put her legs into motion, but using her eyes would have helped.
Her heel hooked on the speed bump and she went down like a sack of rocks. Her right knee hammered into the pavement with a bone shattering crack. “Ouch.”
Large hands gripped her waist and plucked her from the ground. “Are you okay?” Patrick bent to inspect her legs.
“I’m fine.” She turned and limped toward the doors. Damn it hurt, but her pride hurt more.
Patrick held the door open for her and she strode past him, gritting her teeth while her right knee screamed for ice.
“Hey.” Pat stopped a waitress scuttling across the restaurant with her hands full of plates. “Can we get some ice? My friend fell outside.”
“Sure, hon. Hang on a minute. I’ll get you a seat and some ice.”
“Marg, what happened?” Thane’s brow creased. He dropped in front of her and checked her knee. “We need ice,” his big voice boomed, turning heads in the restaurant.
Patrick flicked his fingers to get Thane’s attention. “Just asked for some.”
Without a second’s pause, Thane
lifted her into his arms. “Put… me… down, Thane,” she said through clenched teeth.
Thane stopped dead in his tracks. They gazed at each other then slowly turned to look at Pat—a very dark and dangerous looking Patrick Cobbs.
Thane cleared his throat. “Yeah, umm.”
Pat drilled his best friend with eyes that could have left holes the size of mortar rounds. This didn’t look bad, Marg thought, lying and reassuring herself at the same time. Didn’t look bad at all. Thane gently placed her on her feet and stepped back. It wasn’t only Patrick eyeing them, it was Darcy, the rest of the guys, Carlie and Karen.
“Your table’s ready,” the waitress said. “And here’s the ice.” But she plopped the Glad bag into Thane’s hands, not Patrick’s.
Patrick glanced between them one more time and followed the waitress.
“Sorry.” Thane growled quietly in her ear, but sorry wasn’t going to cut it. Not for someone like Patrick who didn’t say a lot, but noticed everything.
Chapter Seven
They waited while a waitress cleared a table big enough for the eight people in their group. Darcy, aka the little redhead, gazed up at Thane like he was a movie star. Karen followed, holding hands with Paul. Right behind them, Justin, a guy with broad shoulders and racked abs, accompanied Carlie, another of the girls that had found the nerve to jump through the window tonight.
Karen stepped up and smiled at Marg. “Are you okay?”
“T’yah. Just clumsy. I tripped over the speed bump outside.”
“Guess we didn’t get to meet with all the excitement earlier. I’m Karen, and this is my fiancé Paul.”
“Marg Stines,” she offered. “Jumping out that window surpassed my comfort zone.”
“Thanks for talking me down,” Karen said.
Carlie joined them. “Surpassed my comfort zone, too, Marg. Think I’ll leave the jumping out of buildings and aircrafts to Justin.”
They slipped into the booth and Marg ended up across from Thane and sitting next to Patrick. Everyone ordered. Under the table, she held the bag of ice against her knee. It wasn’t as bad as it initially felt, but she’d have a nice sized welt in the morning.
Patrick shot a glance at her salad and gave her a swift, taunting grin. “Guess models don’t eat a lot.”
“I eat a balanced…excuse me,”—she caught the waitress’ attention—After my salad, could you bring me an apple crumble with ice cream?”
Thane chuckled and gave her a wink.
“Stifle it, Thane.”
He shrugged and dove into his hamburger.
Table talk consisted of who the arsonist could be. As far as they knew, no one was killed in the fire, but people had been injured.
Patrick didn’t inhale his food like the other guys. He ordered nachos and when it came, nudged the plate between them. Marg caught his stare, and the door to her good sense closed, looking into his eyes. They were such a beautiful color.
“If the Navy doesn’t work out for you, you could be a model,” she said.
The guys at the table threw long, low hoots and teasing comments his way. “I don’t know Marg, have you ever seen the guy in his skivvies? What about it, Zodiak, wanna be an underwear model?” Paul laughed at his own joke.
“Fuck you.” Patrick shook his head and tore a tortilla chip covered with cheese from the plate.
Marg blushed. She hadn’t meant to embarrass him. In her circle, they would have been nodding and pushing him to get a photoshoot done.
Justin swung a look across the restaurant. “Look who’s over there.”
They all looked, but only the guys knew who they were looking for.
“Figures,” Paul said. “Kiss-up from the word go.”
Karen cocked her head. “Who are you talking about?”
“The guy with his back to us is CPO Walker. He’s one of our BUD/S instructors. Hardass bastard. One of the hardest. On his left, that’s Kit Harper’s older brother. He’s on Team Three. Been SpecForces for ten years now.”
“Frogman isn’t a fuckup like his brother,” Thane grumbled and took another bite of his hamburger.
“The red haired guy on Walker’s left is Lt. Redding. He’s Team One Alpha squad’s lieutenant. Heard nothing but good things about him.”
“Hey, guys.” Kit Harper appeared at their table.
“Table’s full, Harper,” Thane said without looking at him.
“Thanks, asshole. I can see that.” Harper stood his ground, putting a hard inquiring gaze on Marg.
Her skin tingled with unease.
“Marg, didn’t get that dance you promised me. Why don’t you join us at the other table?”
“Oh.” All eyes focused on her. “Ah, well—thank you for the offer, Kit, but the fire kind of got in the way of that and I’m finished dinner.” She shrugged, hoping he’d go away.
“Damn shame about St. George’s,” he said, but little in his tone relayed he cared the lovely old bar burned to the ground.
She nodded, waiting for Kit to get to the point.
“Anyway, think you need a higher class restaurant and better company. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”
Thane slapped his hands together loud enough to make her jump. He cleaned them and crushed the napkin into a ball. “There something wrong with your math, idiot? Look at this table.”
“What about it?” Harper glared at Thane.
Thane stretched his muscular arm across the back of the bench seat. “Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled sarcastically. “How about the fact we’re sitting here in twos. You know, boy girl, boy girl. And Zodiak is sitting next to Marg, you fucking genius.”
The guys at the table chuckled. Marg kinda liked that Thane took charge, just like he had in the bar when the fire broke out, but when it came to determination she would bet a thousand dollars Patrick was Thane’s strength, too. He was the one to reassure Darcy and talk her out of the window.
“Marg, you don’t want to be rubbing shoulders with a guy from the Heights,” Kit said.
Patrick’s gaze slowly rose to meet Harper’s, and he took a step backwards. And then another, as if he were afraid.
Patrick snapped a look across the table at his partner, then resettled it on Kit. “You’re always assuming, Harper. It’s going to get you killed. If you make it through SQT’s.”
Harper’s chest puffed. “I’ll make it. Don’t worry about that.”
“I’m worried you’ll have my back one day. That’s what I worry about,” Patrick said.
“Hooyah,” Paul said under his breath.
“Problem here?”
Marg gulped when the guy Justin had pointed out as Kit’s older brother came to stand beside him. He wore sunglasses, his scruffy beard needed trimming and different colored skull tattoos ran up one arm.
“Just talking with my team mates,” Kit said.
A bald SEAL with a ball cap pulled low over his brow joined Kit’s older brother. “Fresh meat, McMasters,” Kit’s brother said.
McMaster’s eyes stopped on her, and she stared back even though he gave her the creeps.
“Got your SQT’s and six months of probation before you get the Budweiser. Wonder which one of you wonderboys ain’t gonna make it,” McMasters said.
“You’re standing beside him,” Thane shot back, and slowly raised his sharp blue eyes.
McMasters chuckled. “Heard about you already, Austen. You made quite an impression on BUD/S. Usually, the guys with the big mouths are the ones that wash out first.”
Thane tilted his head. “I’ll remember you said that when I outrank you one day, McMasters.”
Patrick bit his top lip and shot a look toward the SEALs who looked like they wanted to burn Thane to ash.
“You got a long way to go, Petty Officer Austen, and I don’t know what they’re teaching these days, but you’re enlisted. You better fucking pray you don’t end up on my team,” McMasters said.
“Yes, sir.” Thane touched his index finger to his head and offer
ed a cocky salute.
Kit’s older brother elbowed McMasters. “Let’s head out.”
Kit lingered.
Thane paused, the burger in front of his mouth. “My food is getting cold, Harper. Why don’t you paddle on over there and get the fuck out of my sight.” This time his expression wasn’t one of toying with the guy. Marg saw he honestly and deeply hated him.
“See ya later, Marg,” Harper said, as if they’d had a conversation instead of what transpired.
“What’s the deal?” Paul’s girlfriend Karen asked, craning her neck.
“Eh, just team stuff, honey,” Paul answered.
“Did he do something bad?” Darcy asked.
Bad? Marg thought. How old was Darcy anyway?
“Harper’s a Sick Call Commando,” Paul said. “Aside from that, he should have washed out. Some of the guys think he’s been given a ride because of his brother.”
Marg wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand the term and turned her questioning gaze to Patrick.
“Among other things, he spent more time trying to get the doc to give him extensions for medical reasons. He should have washed out,” Pat explained. “The worst part about him is he abandoned his swim buddy to save his own hide during Hell Week. The guy got turfed. Should have been the other way around. Harper set him up for a fall, and the guy paid the price.”
“Kit should have rung the bell, but instead he let his partner take the walk of shame,” Thane gruffed as his gaze dropped on Marg.
The polar mist coming from his crystal blues, chilled her. “What?” She met his stare.
“Don’t even think about dating that little shit.”
Her hackles rose. “Telling me what to do, Thane?”
“No, telling you he’s an asshole, and he’ll probably be dead on his first mission out.”
“I can date who I want. It’s none of your business.”
“Wanna bet.”
They glared at each other, then realized the entire table had gone quiet watching their standoff.
Thane cleared his throat and pursed his lips. He didn’t spare a look at Pat. “Need to hit the heads, excuse me.”
Everyone slid out of the bench seat, and then slid back in after Thane left.
Code Name: Forever & Ever (A Warrior's Challenge series Book 5) Page 8