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

by Natasza Waters

  He chuckled. “Woman, don’t start.”

  “Why?” She teased.

  “Because we made a promise, remember?”

  She scratched her cheek. “Did I?” she said, playing with him.

  His cock began to thicken in his pants. “I better go.”

  He hadn’t taken two steps from her when she said, “Chicken.”

  Swooping around, he gripped her ass and hoisted her up his body, driving her gently against the building. “Don’t tempt a starving man, Margaret Stines.”

  Her mouth molded to his kiss and her arms wrapped around his neck. Every delicious curve of her body taunted him to take her upstairs. Make her his. Memorize every soft piece of skin on her body and find the places that would make her gasp with pleasure. He wanted her so goddamn bad.

  “Patrick?” she whispered against his mouth.

  “Marg, don’t. I can’t say no. I spent the entire day looking at you in a bikini and feeling you against my skin. I’m losing my control.”

  “Then lose it,” she said as his mouth travelled the length of her elegant neck.

  Fuck, they never trained him to resist this during Hell Week. He needed to be shoved in the tiny cage up at Warner Springs with some asshole dousing him with a water hose like the S.E.R.E training soon to come. Even then, he would bend the metal bars to get to her. His blood ran hot, his body aching, his cock growing in his jeans.

  A growl rolled up his throat and ended up as her name. “Marg.”

  Her knees clutched his hips, her lanky legs nested next to his. She rested her head against the concrete blocks and banged gently. “When?” The word gusted from her parted lips.

  Slowly, he released her thighs until her feet were on the ground. “When we’re ready.”

  Her pretty eyes opened. “Ready for what?”

  He needed to screw his head on straight, and that meant putting space between them. He gazed at her, but didn’t answer, searching his heart for the right words. They were in there. He knew they were.

  “To take the next step. Good night, beautiful.”

  “You make me crazy.”

  He jogged away from her and didn’t look back until he’d straddled his bike. “You do the same to me. Get inside. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night for dinner.”

  She waved and unlocked the front door. Seeing she was safely inside, he started the engine and tossed his helmet over his head. Margaret Stines had him twisted into knots and he loved it. Loved her. A guy that had pretty much nothing but his morals, his strength and his promise to be a man she could be proud of, had become more important than owning anything of value.

  Pat wheeled around the fountain and headed home to check on his mom. Maybe even tell her he’d found someone special. Someone he wanted her to meet. Driving down the highway at breakneck speed, he felt like he could fly.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Marg and Patrick spent every moment they could together before he left for his Qualification Training. He’d given her more heated kisses than she could count. Two more sunsets. At least ten panty changes because hers were soaked with a need that he refused to sate. She’d even asked him if abstaining from taking their relationship to the next step had to do with his faith. She’d been serious, but the handsome grin that covered his too often sober expression made her blush. Nor had he answered her.

  When the moment came for him to report to Coronado, she got a little taste of heartbreak. On their last night together she’d coaxed him up to her apartment, and they’d sat on the patio. When Malcolm made an appearance, Patrick turned fierce eyes on him and told him to fuck off and stay gone. She’d given him heck for being too heavy-handed. Instead of an apology, he’d buried his fingers in her hair and tugged a little, capping her objections with his mouth.

  That night when he rose to leave, she wanted him to stay. Hold her. Even if they didn’t do a thing, but she knew that couldn’t possibly happen if they laid down on the bed.

  “I’ll call the first chance I get,” he said, standing in her doorway.

  “Be careful.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Not in my job description.” Then possessed her mouth leaving a knee-melting memory before he backed away, staring into her eyes for a moment, but saying nothing.

  She watched him walk down the hallway toward the elevator. His powerful shoulders and confident gait, creating a chaotic beat in her heart.

  “Patrick?” she called out and he turned. She wanted to tell him she loved him. Marg knew she loved him. But if she really loved him, she would have to get used to this. Used to him leaving. Used to watching him walk away from her. “I’ll be right here when you come home. When you pass, I want to be the first to know.”

  Pat winked at her. “See you soon, beautiful.”

  * * * *

  Marg pushed open the door to the Veteran’s Mission to see a small group of women clustered at one of the folding tables. Three times a day, men and women lined up outside for a decent meal. Ten heads turned when she walked across the scuffed but clean linoleum floor, the smell of bleach assaulting her nose.

  “Hi, I’m Marg Stines. I spoke with Andy on the phone yesterday.”

  A short woman with well-rounded hips stood up. “Hi Marg, I’m Andy. Glad you’ve come. We can use the help. Have a seat. We’re just throwing ideas around to stretch the shoestring budget we have.” Andy turned to the other women at the table. “Like you all to meet Margaret Stines. She’s going to be helping us here at the mission.”

  “Hi, Margaret, I’m Lydia Redding,” the blonde woman in her late thirties or early forties, sitting on the opposite end of the table, greeted her.

  She took a seat. “Thank you for having me, Lydia.”

  The rest of the women gave a hello and offered their names. She nodded at each one. “You said your budget is small.”

  Andy’s lips pressed together in a glum look. “Very. You’d think in a town like this we could get a little further ahead of some of the other non-profit organizations, but we’re all vying for the same dollars.”

  Marg caught Lydia’s eye. “I have a degree in media relations and marketing. I’ve never put it to the test, but maybe aside from helping here, I could try and raise more funds.” She paused. Instead of blurting out the name “Foster” and who she was, she said, “My family has some connections. I’ll ask for their help as well.” It wouldn’t be her mother, but maybe Dad would see things a little differently now.

  The women at the table nodded in unison to her offer.

  “Marg, whatever you can do, it would be appreciated,” Andy said. “We try to keep the cost down to two dollars a plate. That’s still a lot of money when you consider we give away three hundred meals a day.”

  “Where do you normally go for funding?” she asked.

  A young girl named Sandy, no more than twenty, sat beside an older woman with the same hair color, presumably her mom. “I’ve done food drives at my college. It takes time to get people to pay attention. It’s basically word of mouth.”

  This was one of the few times Marg hoped her father could see through his stubborn view of helping the military. When he backed a cause, other people would follow with thousands of dollars just to say they had if they ever rubbed shoulders with him. In Hollywood it was a matter of politics, but the cause would benefit from their wallets.

  “Is it only veterans who eat here?” she asked.

  Heads bobbed. Andy spoke up again. “They have to show their I.D. There’s other missions that help the needy. Ours is strictly for service men and women who could use a hand.” Andy turned her attention on the group. “We’ve placed the menus for the week in the kitchen, but here’s a copy.” She passed out the sheets and gave instructions to the gals who already had their duties. “Marg, since you’re new here, maybe Lydia can give you a tour and then we need to get ready for lunch.”

  Lydia offered a friendly smile from across the table and rose, giving Marg her cue.

  “Let’s start in the kitchen.” L
ydia motioned toward the back of the hall. Set up like a cafeteria, a long metal shelf for trays and plenty of standing room for guests was situated in front of the serving area. The kitchen wasn’t as large as she expected. In fact, it was half the size of her mother’s kitchen at home. Three of the girls sauntered past them and started pulling out groceries from the fridge and cans from a tall six shelf storage unit.

  “Did you grow up in San Diego?” Lydia shifted out of the women’s way who bustled around the kitchen.

  “No, I moved here a little over two months ago. I grew up in Los Angeles.”

  Lydia’s pretty eyes surveyed her. Something about the woman rang with noble as well as beautiful.

  “How did you find us?”

  Marg stepped out of the way when one of the girls needed to open a cabinet behind her. “I volunteered my time when I was in college, and in L.A. I used to donate my clothes to a veterans women’s outlet. They give clothes to women who are entering civilian life again and need outfits for interviews and work.”

  “Sounds like a worthy cause. Do you work?”

  Marg nodded. “Yes, but my schedule is all over the place. I can make time for the mission. Whatever you need me to do.” She watched the girls prepping like professional chefs. “Although, I don’t know how to cook.”

  Lydia gave her a friendly smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll show you everything. Everyone here chips in, and we rotate the duties.”

  “I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I don’t have a lot of commitments.”

  Lydia cocked her head, her blonde bob reminiscent of a sixties hair style. “Most of us are married to men in the Navy. The faces will change once in a while. When our husbands come home, we’ll disappear for a while, and a new group will appear because their husbands have shipped out or are on missions.”

  “Missions,” Marg said, the word reminding her of Patrick, who she wished she could stop thinking about. He’d only been gone three weeks, but she hadn’t heard a thing. Right now he was in Georgia and she hoped when he came home, she’d see him. Even for only five minutes.

  Lydia nodded. “Let’s carry on. Lunch hour is fast approaching.”

  Marg got the quick and dirty tour and then she was put on washing detail. She donned an apron and scraped the plates as they were brought back to her, washing and stacking them to dry. She grabbed a cloth and followed the cooks around, cleaning counters and sweeping up messes as they fell on the floor.

  Three hours later, the guests were fed and the kitchen sparkling clean once again.

  “Hey, Marg, how about I buy you a coffee?” Lydia asked, taking a quick glance at her watch.

  “Sure, I’d love that.”

  They both hopped in their cars and drove across the Coronado Bridge, parking on Orange Avenue. She recognized the coffee shop immediately. The one the group went to after the fire.

  Seated on the patio, she took in a deep breath of sea air. Lydia sat down gracefully, settling her purse on the ground beside her.

  After the waiter settled water and the menus on their table, Lydia leaned forward. “I can’t help but wonder who you know. When I mentioned missions, you understood.”

  “I’ve heard the term before.”

  Lydia waited for her to expound.

  “I met someone when I moved here. A few someones, actually.”

  “But one of them is special,” Lydia said with a demure smile, palming her empty coffee cup.

  Marg nodded. “We barely know each other, but…it doesn’t matter. He’s gone now.”

  “Gone? As in on a deployment?”

  “No, he’s on his SQT’s. When he passes, he’ll be assigned to a team.”

  “SEAL Team.”

  “Yes. I’m climbing the walls and worried I won’t be strong enough for him every time he has to leave.” Why was she spilling her guts to this woman she barely knew? Marg shrugged a shoulder.

  “I can see you have feelings for him. Believe me, you’re not the first woman to fall for a SEAL and have him leave like a shadow in the night.”

  Marg’s gaze rose to meet Lydia’s.

  “My husband is a lieutenant in the SEALs.”

  Marg blinked. “Really?”

  Lydia chuckled. “Yes, really. We’ve been married for twenty years. We met just after he’d finished his BUD/S training.”

  “That’s when I met Patrick.”

  The waiter returned with their coffees and they doctored them to their liking. “Patrick’s last name wouldn’t happen to be Cobbs, would it?”

  Marg choked down her surprise, and the creamer she opened squished out all over her fingers. “It is.”

  “He’s doing just fine.”

  “Is he with your husband?”

  “No, but Darren, my husband, who everyone calls Red, has met him and heard good things. He wants to add him to Team One, Alpha Squad. Sometimes the lieutenants will work the BUD/S classes in their last phase to evaluate a potential team member.”

  “Patrick’s swim buddy is Thane.”

  Lydia’s smile broke into a chuckle. “Austen. Apparently they’ve both impressed Darren.”

  Marg let out a gust of relief. “I know they’ll both pass. They really want this.”

  “Most do. It becomes an addiction for them. They’re so focused, they can’t think of anything else until they receive their Budweisers.”

  Lydia’s eyes roamed toward the tree hanging over their heads. “But it’s after the training and once they join their team, that life becomes…real.”

  Marg swallowed deeply. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Not worry. I mean, do you have children?”

  “Six, all girls.” Lydia laughed and it was a beautiful sound. “My poor husband so wanted to have a son, but he got six daughters to drive him crazy, and he loves them all. He says they cause him more strife then an enemy combatant.”

  “And you have time to volunteer?” She wondered whether Lydia and Superwoman were one in the same.

  “The girls are all in school now. I have time on my hands. Helping out at the mission or meeting with other SEAL wives keeps me occupied. Keeps all of us occupied, and of course stops us from worrying every second of the day.”

  Marg felt honored to be sitting here with a real Navy wife. Lydia’s inner strength was evident to her. “Did he…” Marg nibbled on her lip. “Did he have doubts when you first dated?”

  Lydia thought for a moment. “Oh my, yes. Doubt, fear, reservations, he had it all. Are you hungry?” She waved at the waiter. “I gain ten pounds every time Darren is on deployment, then it takes me a month to lose it when he comes home.”

  The waiter sauntered up to their table. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Marg, do you want anything?”

  She shook her head. “Go ahead.”

  Lydia ordered a piece of cherry pie.

  “What made him…come around?” Marg asked, not able to keep her curiosity under control. “Patrick keeps sending mixed messages.”

  “Before I answer that, tell me about Patrick.”

  “He’s very mysterious. Tall. Dark. Handsome beyond belief and I’d know, I model with a lot of good looking men, but they just don’t have what Patrick exudes.”

  “And what is that?” she asked quietly.

  “I don’t have a word for it. I feel it, but I don’t know what to call it.”

  The waiter came around to refill their cups. “Either of you like the newspaper?” he asked, releasing it from its rolled state onto the table.

  The headline caught both their eyes. Things heating up in Somalia. Our troops will be called to action.

  Marg’s gaze rose to meet Lydia’s.

  “Over the years, you’ll see this on the TV or a newspaper,” she said, covering the headline with her hand. “The SEALs are almost always involved at some stage. It might not be your SEAL or mine, but someone’s. Because they belong to the Special Warfare group, their missions are discrete but deadly. That’s why we’re closer than o
ther groups in the forces.”

  “Do a lot of them die?” Inwardly, she cringed, afraid of the answer.

  “What’s a lot? One? Ten?” Lydia laid the paper on the table. “If your heart tells you that Patrick is worth the worry, then he needs to hear it. Lay it out for him. SEALs aren’t known for being shy, but when it comes to women, they all seem to be a bit cagey.”

  “There’s this guy my parents want me to marry. Well on his way to being successful. I’m sure he’d be a real catch, but I don’t want to play the part of executive wife.” Bruce had some kind of ESP because as soon as Patrick left, he’d called, wanting a date. She’d turned him down four times so far. He’d even tried the “friend card” and she still shot him down.

  When Lydia sipped her coffee, her brows rose at the same time. “Don’t like him?”

  “He comes from money. Looks great in a thousand dollar suit and has endless aspirations.”

  “And you don’t like him because?”

  Marg dwelled on the question until she said, “Because he’s not Patrick.”

  “When it comes to the New Guys, as they’re called, they only have one focus.”

  “The Trident.” she answered.

  Lydia nodded. “That silly little gold Budweiser means everything to them, but all the wives know, it’s the man that matters, not the medal.”

  Meeting Lydia helped to sort out her confusion. At least a little bit.

  “Lydia?” She clutched her fingers together. “There’s something else. Something I never told Patrick and should have.”

  Lydia nodded for her to go ahead. “Sounds serious.”

  “I—when I first got here, I did something stupid. Impetuous. Something I regret.”

  Sitting back and folding her hands over her stomach, she said, “Something you don’t want Patrick to know.”

  “Something he should know, but there was never the right time. I have a feeling it won’t stay buried.”

  “It’s usually a SEAL wife that remains on the dark side of a secret. We get used to it because the Navy doesn’t want us to know what our husband’s know. They call it National Security. I suppose in many ways, we don’t need details, but we see the results. We see the somber expressions and our husband’s haunted gaze looking inward, dealing with their demons. And all we can do is hold down the fort, so they have a safe landing place when they’re home.”