Code Name: Forever & Ever (A Warrior's Challenge series Book 5)

by Natasza Waters

  The phone rang. She ignored it, but Patrick reached above her and put the phone to her ear, which frustrated her to no end.

  “Hello.” She cleared her throat. “Hello?”

  “Marg, darling, are you busy?”

  She bolted upright and had to stop from laughing when her boob poked Patrick in the eye. “Grams! No, are you downstairs?”

  “I am. I thought I’d drop by and take you to dinner.”

  “Drop by? It’s two hours from L.A.”

  Grams chuckled. “That’s why God invented chauffeurs, honey.”

  Marg stood and offered a look of apology to Patrick. He grinned and stood up, adjusting himself. The bulge in his jeans made her pause. “Grams, I’ll buzz you up.”

  She slammed the phone and vaulted for the bedroom, throwing on a pair of jeans and pulling a T-shirt over her head, then remembered her bra and swore, snagging it from the chair and trying to do it up, she did a little dance around the floor. Patrick leaned against her doorway with a wicked grin on his face, and then took the two steps to turn her around and hook the lacy bra together once she’d pushed her arms through the straps and back into her T-shirt.

  “Don’t think I’ve ever done one of these up.”

  “Very funny.”

  He chuckled and then turned Marg to face him, running his hands through her hair. “It’s so soft, just like the rest of you.” He gripped her neck and pulled her into him. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

  “Where was it supposed to go?”

  “It would have ended up in here. Over there.” He nodded toward the bed. “With me inside of you.”

  His mouth covered hers and the ache between her thighs made her cringe.

  Patrick’s large hand slid across her hip and cupped her gently between the legs as if he knew what bothered her. The grip on her neck tightened and he tilted her head to look in his eyes. “When we’re both sure, Marg, I will make that ache disappear with my mouth, over and over again.”

  She groaned with frustration.

  “I better head out,” he said, pulling away.

  “Why?” She gripped his arm. “I want you to meet Grams.”

  He nibbled on the edge of his cheek. “Your grandmother?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re sure?” His brow flexed.

  “Is there some reason you shouldn’t?”

  Before he could answer, her grandmother knocked.

  “I’ll be out on the patio. Not wise to meet her in your bedroom.”

  She grinned and nodded.

  When she opened the door, Grams gave her a kiss and a hug. “Darling, you look flushed.”

  Avoiding the comment seemed wise. “Come in. I want you to meet somebody.”

  “Oh.” Her penciled brows rose. “Did I interrupt?”

  “Don’t be silly.” She led Grams out to the patio and held the sheer aside for her to pass.

  Patrick rose from his chair and Grams stopped in her tracks. “Wait, you look familiar to me. The young man who held the door for us.”

  He blinked with surprise, and then a high wattage smile struck both grandmother and granddaughter. “Think the Navy needs your skills, ma’am. You only saw me for a second.”

  Grams smirked. “I never forget an extremely handsome man, no matter how old I get.”

  Patrick accepted her hand and shook it gently. “Patrick Edward Cobbs, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Sally Stines, well actually Stines-Foster, but that’s a long story.” Grams turned a look over her shoulder. “I don’t want to interrupt, maybe I should toddle along.”

  Patrick shook his head. “I think I should go and let you ladies have a nice evening.”

  “Nonsense, where are you taking us for dinner?” Grams asked.

  Patrick shot a glance at Marg. “The Empire Hotel has an upscale restaurant, maybe…”

  “Upscale? Psst,” Grams said with a flick of her wrist. “I want to go where there’s good food. As I recall, Coronado had some great restaurants for sailors.”

  Patrick rounded the table and curled Gram’s arm gently around his. “You don’t look like a sailor to me. Are you sure?”

  Grams giggled like a girl, and it warmed Marg’s heart. They liked each other.

  “Let’s go,” Grams said. “That is, after Margaret puts her t-shirt on right-side out.”

  Marg squeaked. The heat in her cheeks gave away her guilt. Patrick and Grams shot a look at each other and started to laugh.

  * * * *

  Patrick held the door open for Grams at the cafe on Orange Avenue. They were seated right away and Grams sighed as she looked around.

  “It feels like coming home,” Grams said. She got up and wandered toward the wall where pictures of SEALs who had given their lives in combat, hung on the wall.

  Marg followed her. “A trip down memory lane?”

  When Patrick queried her with his eyes, Marg explained. “My grandfather, Braden Stines was her first husband.”

  “Oh, my God. Look at this,” Grams said, staring at a picture.

  She and Patrick joined her. Marg rested a hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, Grams?”

  “It’s Braden!” She leaned closer. With the tip of her finger, she lifted her glasses to take a better look.

  Patrick leaned closer to look as well. “This picture was taken in 1969. Vietnam,” he said.

  “Here.” She urged Marg to look.

  The picture was old and a little blurry, but Gram’s shaking finger pointed to a man in the back row of a team shot. “It’s Braden.”

  Gram’s gestured to one of the waitresses serving the tables. “Dear, do you think I could have a copy of this photo?”

  The young girl jerked a shoulder because her hands were full of plates. “I guess, I could ask the owner.”

  “Please do that,” she said. Marg and Patrick guided her grandmother back to their seats. When she was settled, she twisted her fingers together and smiled. “I recognize a few other faces in that picture. They’ve all passed on now.” She shook her head. “I only knew three of Braden’s team members who made it out of the war alive.”

  “Crazy mixed up war,” Patrick said. “A friend of the family runs a bar in the Heights. He was over there, too. He said when they came home, people treated them very badly.”

  Grams nodded. “It wasn’t a popular war for a lot of reasons, but Braden was still proud to serve his country.”

  “He was one of the ones that didn’t come home?” Patrick asked.

  Grams relayed the story Marg had only recently learned herself, and Patrick listened to Grams closely, never interrupting.

  “Do you mind if I ask?” he paused. “Do you have any regrets?”

  Grams blinked and a slow smile crossed her lips. “I wanted the man I married to come home, and he did, just not the way I expected. If I was given a second chance, I wouldn’t do a single thing differently. Braden hated leaving me, but he loved his country. When he was home, we spent every moment together because we somehow, somewhere deep in our hearts, knew it might not last forever.”

  They ordered and halfway through their meal, a gentlemen in his seventies strolled up to their table. He’d lost most of his hair and he had a small paunch on his belly, but his eyes were sharp and he smiled at Grams. “I’m Master Chief Clancy Temple, ma’am. I own this restaurant.”

  Grams gave him a demure smile and shook his hand. “Mr. Temple, I’m Sally Stines.”

  “My friends call me Rider.” He revealed his other hand and between his fingers, another picture. “I couldn’t believe it when Sandy told me someone wanted a copy of that picture. She overheard you mention you knew someone in the image.”

  “Yes, my husband.”

  “Do you mind if I join you for a moment?”

  “Not at all,” Grams said, watching as Rider pulled a chair.

  He placed the photo which was much clearer than the one on the wall, on the table and slid it to her. “I have
another copy. I keep them just in case, but this one means a lot to me. Sandy also mentioned the name Braden.”

  Grams blinked. “You didn’t…”

  He pointed at the bottom row, and the man kneeling in the center. A big gun propped on its butt end, clutched in one hand. “That’s me.”

  Grams brow wrinkled. “You served with Braden?”

  He nodded. “Three tours over there. I’d been injured. Shot through the leg. I wasn’t with him on the last tour. Wish I had been. I would have given my life for his. Not many men in those days would say that about their officers, but Braden was different. He’d run the course of hard knocks with us. Good thing the Navy recognized he was a born leader and promoted him. He saved our asses with his quick thinking many times.”

  Grams covered his hand and Rider covered hers. “Thank you, this the best surprise I’ve had in many years.”

  Tears shone in Gram’s eyes and Marg thought she’d cry, too.

  “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Margaret.”

  “Pleased to meet you, young lady.” He cocked his head. “You have his eyes. Can’t forget a blue like that.”

  “And this is her friend Patrick Cobbs who has just graduated from his Phase Three SEAL training.”

  Rider and Patrick shook hands. “Things are a lot different now than they were back then. You’re better trained. Better equipped. We had balls, brass and sometimes good luck to get us home.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After gazing at the photo for a long moment, she offered it to Marg. “Here, honey, I want you to have this.”

  “Are you sure, Grams?”

  “Very sure.”

  Patrick wrapped an arm around Marg’s shoulder and she held the picture up for him to see. His grip on her shoulder startled her, and she set her gaze on him. “Something wrong?”

  “No.” Saying that, he took the picture and had a closer look, his brow wrinkling.

  “Are you sure? You don’t look okay.”

  He placed the picture on the table and gave them all a vague smile. “Yeah.”

  “Lunch is on me,” Rider announced, and stood up. “It was my pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Stines. Braden talked about you a lot when we were in country. When we were humping through the jungle or trying to kill those bastards—sorry ma’am, but we had our downtime and Braden made all of us jealous talking about the beautiful wife he had at home and his baby. It was a son, right?”

  Grams nodded. “Yes, our only child.”

  “He kept your picture in his helmet and another one in his pocket. Always said if he ever ended up dead, he wanted them to know who he loved most in this world.” Rider nodded and walked to the back of the restaurant, then disappeared.

  “Grams,” Marg said wistfully, “can you believe that?”

  “I can’t. I’m a little shaky over it, actually.”

  Marg slid from the seat and joined her, wrapping an arm around fragile shoulders. “Should I take you back to my place? You can lie down.” They’d almost finished their meals anyway.

  Grams stared out the window. “I feel bad sometimes. Bad for your Grandfather Arnold. He was a good man, but when I get to heaven, I hope the only man waiting to show me the way is Braden.”

  Marg tipped her head to her Grams and they held hands.

  Patrick picked up the picture. “Think he’ll be there, Sally. Think he’s been with you all along. Protecting you as best he could, and his granddaughter.”

  * * * *

  At twenty-three hundred hours, Pat edged his way down the outside of the darkened house and tapped on the back door after seeing the Technicolor flashes of a TV.

  “Hey, buddy,” Thane greeted, opening the door for him.

  “Think I’m going nuts. I need to talk.”

  Thane’s brows rose. “That’s a rarity. Beer?”

  “I’ll help myself.” Patrick twisted off the cap and flung it toward the garbage can in Thane’s kitchen. His parent’s house was over five thousand square feet. They’d given their son a private suite downstairs. Pat sat down on the leather couch opposite his swim buddy.

  Thane muted the TV. “You look fucked up. What’s wrong?”

  After a healthy gulp, he said, “I think I’m losin’ it.”

  “Pretty vague, there, Cobbs. Care to expand?”

  “I—I think I’m seeing ghosts.”

  “What?” Thane chortled. “Did you say “Beetlejuice” three times or what?”

  “I—am—serious.” He jumped to his feet and paced while Thane watched him make tracks behind the couch. “Remember Halloween? The guy I saw in the room with us?”

  “What about it?” Thane leaned forward.

  “I heard him. He talked to me that night.”

  “Say what?”

  “He called me by name. Told me to get Marg to safety. After we left you guys at the Mexican restaurant, I saw him again, leaning against a light pole. I looked away for a second and he was gone. And the night on San Clemente Island. I saw him again. Same guy.”

  Thane’s eyes narrowed. “You think someone’s watching you?”

  Pat shook his head slowly. “I saw him again today.” He paused and took a breath to steady his nerves.

  “Where?”

  He cleared his throat and met Thane’s gaze. “In a picture. A picture of Marg’s dead grandfather. It’s him. I know it’s him.”

  Thane’s mouth gaped a little and his eyes widened. “You’re kidding?”

  “Not kidding,” Pat said and sat down once again. “There’s been other times I felt someone around me, but no one was there. The night I turned around because I got the distinct feeling Marg was in danger, and found Harper in her building. I think he actually jabbed me in the back to make me act on my gut instinct. He did it again on the beach at San Clemente.”

  “You’re being haunted?” Thane said, and took a long chug of beer. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think I believe in ghosts.”

  “Ya, think I do?”

  “What does he want?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just hanging around, looking out for Marg. Weird thing is she heard him in the haunted house, too.”

  “Have you told her any of this?”

  “Fuck no. I just convinced her to forgive me today after my idiotic conduct at the BBQ.”

  Thane finished his beer. “Don’t know what to say. I mean, I’ve heard of stories where someone had a guardian angel and crap like that, but I never believed any of it.”

  “Marg’s grandfather was a SEAL in Vietnam.”

  Thane sat up straight. “When did he die?”

  “Think she said 1971. On a mission.”

  Thane stuck his tongue in his jaw and darted glances around the room. “Can you see him now?”

  “No,” he spit out. “He only pops up when it seems Marg’s in trouble. Least, that’s when I noticed him.” He let out a deep sigh. “You think I’m crazy?”

  Thane rubbed his hand across his chin. “No, least I can see you believe it. I’ve heard a ghost will hang around if it’s unsettled or wants to pass a message. Think he has unfinished business, and he’s trying to reach out to you?”

  “Haven’t got a clue, but I don’t know whether I should tell Marg.”

  A low groan expelled from Thane. “Keeping secrets isn’t really good in a relationship.”

  “Is that what we have?”

  “You’re asking me?” Thane scoffed. “Not only do I not want to be in your boots with a permanent girlfriend, but I sure as shit don’t want a ghost hanging around.”

  Pat broke into a laugh, seeing both ideas made Thane uncomfortable.

  “Think we need to concentrate on the living and maybe the dead will go away,” Thane suggested.

  He nodded in agreement. “Think you’re right. We still on for tomorrow?”

  “Waterskiing? Yup, folks don’t have a problem lending me the boat. Coming alone?” Thane gave him a wicked grin.

  “Nope, bringing Marg with me. She needs to get
out on the water. San Clemente scared the hell out of her.”

  “She should be more scared of you,” Thane muttered. “With ghost groupies, I don’t know if I want you hanging around either.”

  He grinned. “Got more important things to worry about.”

  “Why aren’t you at her place? She’s got a comfortable—”

  Patrick stopped halfway to the fridge. “Comfortable what?”

  Thane shifted on the couch and shrugged. “Well, she’s got her own place, doesn’t she?”

  He wheeled back around and drilled a gaze at his friend. “How would you know where she lives?”

  Thane jerked a shoulder and reached for the TV controller. “She comes from money, just assumin’ she has nice digs. Wanna watch the game?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, grabbing a couple more beers. He set them on the coffee table, grabbed the remote, muted the TV, then said, “You got something to tell me. Tell me now.”

  Thane nibbled on his lip for only an instant, then his gaze flicked up to meet Pat’s. “Nope, just thinking about ghostly apparitions of dead SEALs.” Thane unmuted the TV and sat back in a relaxed pose.

  Pat rubbed his neck, the tingling sensation back again. He resisted for a minute, but then turned to look behind him. Maybe he was losing his marbles.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marg sat in the back seat of the jet boat while Thane and the rest of the guests grinned and hooted. Patrick squeezed her against his bare chest. At any other time she’d be drooling over it, but fear had a way of sucking up every available drop of moisture except the sweat on her forehead.

  “Hey,” he said next to her ear. “You gotta reason this fear out in your mind, Marg.”

  He drew her a little closer, not totally sure it was to reassure her or have a better look at her breasts held up by her bikini top.

  The wind rushed past them as Thane headed out to sea and clear of other boaters. “Does he have to go out so far?” she asked, turning her head and seeing land as a little brown slice in the distance.

  “Who saved you last time?”

  Her gaze turned to his. “You did.”

  “You’ve got an entire boat filled with SEALs. Do you really think anything bad can happen?”