Hot Alpha SEALs: Military Romance Megaset

by Sharon Hamilton

  He was here doing his job so no one would have to face such choices on American soil. But, God, how he missed her!

  The civilian presence in the area was one of the reasons his team was here, risking their lives, doing this mission old-school instead of raining down ordnance.

  He gripped his SCAR rifle and scanned the street for movement. It was his job to guard the team’s back door, their route of escape. As soon as they finished wiring the building to blow, they’d fall back and double-time it out to wait for the structure to blow.

  The first click came over his com system, signaling Hawk, his commanding officer and leader of the mission, had gained entry to the building. Next came Bowie’s signal, then Doc’s. Cutter’s and Strong Man’s clicks soon followed.

  Greenback glanced at his watch and mentally marked the time. They had seven minutes to get in, set the timer and get out. Derrick Armstrong aka Strong Man would be the last man out and would set the last timer.

  Greenback didn’t know which was worse, being two blocks away, alone, and surrounded by insurgents. Or being inside a structure filled with explosives and occupied by terrorists. Pick a fucking card. Both sucked. But at least things had remained quiet at his…

  The sound of approaching footsteps froze his thoughts and movements. He shifted, finding cover behind a jagged clump of masonry which partially blocked the alley. He waited to identify whether the person was armed or not. If he carried no weapon, Greenback would hold his position and allow the man to pass.

  The baby’s cry from above and across the street drew the guy’s attention. He paused, the barrel of the AK-47 slung over his shoulder, pointing heavenward.

  The tango was armed and on foot patrol. Possibly one of the terrorists.

  The man pivoted. The glow of his flashlight swung toward the alley, reflecting off the wall opposite Greenback. Still wearing his NVGs, the light blinded him, leaving dots seared on his retinas. Shit!

  The tango shuffled into the alley. Greenback froze as the man eased past him, so close he smelled his sweat and the faint hint of garlic.

  The tango halted, looking up as though he heard or sensed something. “Who is there?” he demanded in Arabic.

  With the aftereffects of the flashlight still obscuring his vision, Greenback could only guess the man’s location. Should the tango shout a warning to the rest of the patrol, there would be no escape for him or the team. With all his strength, Greenback swung his heavy rifle stock and connected with something solid. A hollow thump like a melon cracking open echoed through the alley. He sensed more than saw the tango’s head whip back and a dull thud followed as he dropped to the ground. Greenback followed the sound, lending his weight to pinning the sentry and keeping him quiet. He gripped the man’s head, the spongy feeling of crushed bones making him gag. The tango’s choking struggle to breathe lasted an agonizing thirty seconds, and then his efforts ceased.

  Fear and relief tangled in Greenback’s gut, triggering a wave of nausea. His heart pumped hard from the surge of adrenaline, his vision slowly cleared, and he felt for a pulse. There was none. He scrambled to his feet and rolled the man against the wall.

  He turned to study the street again. Had anyone heard the brief struggle? Nothing moved. How long before the next tango on patrol wandered by? There had to be more than one. What were the chances the next guy would use the alley as a shortcut? Greenback steeled himself to do whatever came next.

  The baby across the street started crying again, louder and louder. Why didn’t someone pick it up?

  *

  “Oliver? Oliver?” Selena bounced Lucia on her hip in an attempt to soothe her. The toddler’s cheeks were flushed with fever and her tiny body radiated heat. Her two-and-a-half-old daughter had never been this ill. She’d run low-grade temperatures when she was teething, and once with an ear infection, but this one was still creeping up and refused to stay down, even with children’s Tylenol. Several hours later, Selena’s concern had turned into full-fledged fear.

  Though the room was cool, Oliver’s curly, dark brown hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. His eyes darted back and forth beneath his lids, a sign of REM sleep. She knew better than to touch him while he was under so deeply, because he’d react like he was in danger.

  His hands twitched and his breathing became uneven. What was it he dreamed about? If only he would tell her. He’d sometimes come half off the bed if she startled him awake.

  “Greenback!” she said, using his SEAL handle in as commanding a tone as she could manage, since she was pretty sure he was dreaming about a mission. “Lucia is sick.”

  His eyes flew open and he sat up so quickly she gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Her heart flew into a wave of fast contractions, exhaustion intensifying her reaction. “Lucia’s running a high fever and it’s not coming down as it should, even with Tylenol. I think we need to go to the ER.”

  He threw back the covers and was on his feet in one smooth move. How did he go from deep sleep to wide-awake in seconds? It was a skill she could use. She was groggy from being up with the baby off and on all night. Had he not just gotten home from a training rotation she’d have asked him to help earlier. But he’d been so exhausted he’d slurred his words.

  While he yanked on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she gently rocked Lucia and bathed her face with a cool cloth. Instead of soothing her, the damp rag seemed to make her scream louder.

  “Let me take her, so you can get dressed.” Oliver plucked Lucia from her arms and cuddled her close while he did the dance and dip movement that usually rocked her to sleep. His dark hair, so much like the baby’s, clung in ringlets where he’d splashed water to smooth it down.

  “Daddy-daddy-daddy.” Lucia strung the syllables together in a monotonous chant while Selena got dressed, but at least she was no longer screaming.

  Selena hurried into a pair of jeans and a blouse and stuffed her feet into slip-on tennis shoes. She dragged her long hair into a scrunchie to pull it back from her face.

  Oliver frowned, his concern clear in his brow and compressed lips. “Jesus, she really is hot. Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

  Defensive and worried, she said, “I gave her some children’s Tylenol, thinking it would bring the fever down until I could take her into the pediatrician’s office this morning. It obviously didn’t work.”

  She gathered the diaper bag and her purse. Oliver carried Lucia, followed her to the van parked alongside their small house, opened the back door, and secured Lucia in her car seat.

  “I’ll sit back here with her while you drive,” Selena said, climbing in next to the baby seat. She fished in her bag and found the keys and handed them to him.

  “Daddy-daddy-daddy.”

  “Daddy’s driving, baby. We’ll be there in a minute,” Oliver said while he quickly backed the vehicle out of the driveway.

  Of course Lucia would want Oliver. She’d had a steady diet of Mama for the last six weeks. Tears blurred Selena’s eyes at her unexpected resentment. He swung through just long enough for her and Lucia to rain their affections on him, then he swooped back out again.

  She snapped the seat belt on and laid a soothing hand on Lucia’s chest as she began to struggle against the restraints of the car seat and cry.

  Lucia had been more fussy than usual for the last few days. And her nose had run a little. Selena scolded herself for not noticing sooner, but it was so hard being responsible for everything on top of her work at the bank. The house, the yard, the van, Lucia. Everything.

  Being married to a SEAL was like being single nine months out of the year, with no companionship and no sex. As much as she’d wanted a family, she hadn’t realized she’d be raising Lucia mostly on her own.

  She’d kept everything together until last Friday, though. But now fear cramped her stomach. Every time she thought about it, a gut-clenching dread swamped her.

  She needed to tell Oliver. And she would. As soon as Lucia was better.
She couldn’t worry about it while her baby was ill.

  Oliver looked up into the rear view mirror at her. “How long has she been sick?”

  “Just this evening. She’s been a little fussy the last few days, but nothing I could put my finger on.”

  He turned into the Balboa Medical Center parking lot. “I’ll drop you at the ER entrance and go park the van. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Okay,” Selena murmured, already busy releasing Lucia from the car seat. Selena lifted her free and grabbed her purse and the diaper bag from the floor. As soon he stopped the van, she got out and shoved the door closed. He drove away immediately.

  While Selena sat in a small privacy cubicle and provided the woman checking them in with all the necessary information, Lucia clung to her and cried. The sound bounced off the sides of the small space, magnifying it. With each second, the tension headache pounding at the nape of Selena’s neck intensified.

  Finally Oliver appeared at the mouth of the cubicle. His hair, now dry, lay in heavy curls, accentuating his olive-skinned Italian good looks. The girl behind the computer flashed him a smile and sat up straighter. He nodded to her. His biceps flexed against the short sleeves of his T-shirt as he lifted Lucia. “I’ll see if I can entertain her until we’re called back into an examination room.”

  Selena watched his progress down the hall to the waiting room. Carrying forty to sixty pounds of gear during every mission, and the constant physical training he and the team did, had honed his five-eight frame into muscular perfection. Her desire for him had never waned. All he had to do was look at her with his heavy-lidded, chocolate brown eyes, and she was hot for him. And he reacted the same way to her. Would he still feel that way after she told him?

  She collected her insurance card and identification from the girl and walked back to join Oliver and Lucia in the waiting area. Four other people waited ahead of them.

  Since Lucia seemed to prefer the hall to the waiting area, Oliver walked her up and down, doing his dance, bounce move. Her throat closed just watching him. Loving him and Lucia was the one thing keeping her together, keeping her strong. But she didn’t feel strong right now. She felt shaky and afraid. Afraid for herself, but afraid for Lucia and Oliver, too.

  The waiting area cleared out quickly, and a nurse called them back to the examination room. The claustrophobic closeness of the space was stifling, and she struggled to push the air in and out.

  “You okay, hon?” Oliver asked, a frown working its way across his face.

  Lucia reached for her, giving her an excuse to focus on their child instead of the walls closing in around her. “I’m fine.” She cuddled her daughter close and grabbed a tissue to wipe Lucia’s nose. The doctor came in before Oliver could probe any further.

  Lucia screamed at having a strange man touch her. Selena answered the doctor’s questions while Oliver held the toddler during the examination. At his diagnosis of another ear infection, Selena frowned in concern. “She just got over an ear infection last month.”

  “Do you know if she has any allergies?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He studied the chart. “How often have the infections reoccurred?”

  “Just in the last four months she’s had three.”

  “Is she in daycare?”

  “Five days a week, while I’m at work.”

  “Children in daycare are more susceptible to bacterial infections. Children indiscriminately spread germs. Any pets?”

  “No.”

  “Any stuffed toys she sleeps with?”

  “Her lamb.”

  “I’d recommend washing it as often as possible, or slipping it out of her bed once she’s asleep. Toys harbor bacteria.

  “With children this age,” the doctor continued, “the Eustachian tubes are flatter and narrow. They don’t drain as easily as adults. That allows bacteria to build up and causes fluid to gather behind the eardrum and cause the pain.

  “It’s too soon to tell, though, because that last infection might not have responded to the first antibiotic she took, and it lingered. I’ll give her something a little stronger and see if we can’t wipe it out. But if she continues to develop them, your regular pediatrician may want her to see an ear, nose, and throat specialist. If she doesn’t respond to the antibiotic quickly, take her in to see your regular doctor immediately.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Half an hour later they were out of the ER, with prescriptions for some drops to numb Lucia’s pain and the antibiotic.

  Although they rushed through an all-night pharmacy and picked up the prescription, the sky was already lightening as they reached home. Selena gave Lucia, now exhausted from crying, a dose of the antibiotic. Oliver administered the ear drops and got the baby down while Selena made coffee.

  Their small, bungalow-style house had been a labor of love. They remodeled things when they could afford to, and the kitchen had been their first project together. The terracotta tile floors glowed with warmth. They’d painted the cabinets a pale sky blue and distressed them. The glass doors shone. Fresh herbs filled the room with fragrances from a window box garden in the small breakfast nook next to the round kitchen table. Selena stacked the bills and letters spread across the table and set them aside. She settled there while she waited for the coffee to brew and for Oliver to join her.

  Though exhaustion dragged at her limbs and she longed for sleep, they needed to talk. She needed to tell him, though the dread of it made her want to throw up. Just saying the words would make things real for her, for them both. And change things for them—between them—forever.

  Ten minutes later, Oliver wandered into the room and paused at the coffee maker to pour them each a cup. He added cream to hers, then sauntered over to the table. The deliberate way he placed his feet, the measured distance between steps, was a SEAL thing, perpetuated by their training. She would recognize him in a crowd of a thousand other men just by the way he walked.

  He slid the cup in front of her. “Are you sure you want to drink coffee? Since you’ve been up with the baby all night, I can hold down the fort while you sleep.”

  “I may in a bit.” She concentrated on the cup in front of her to keep from tearing up. “There’s something I have to tell you. I couldn’t while you were on your training rotation, but now you’re home—”

  Oliver frowned and placed a hand over the one she clenched on the kitchen table. “What is it?”

  She studied his features…so strong, so masculine. She’d seen him smiling like a fool all the way through their wedding. Seen him grimace in release when they made love. Seen him luminous with pride and joy when he’d first set eyes on Lucia when he’d come home from a deployment. What would his expression reveal when she told him?

  She swallowed. “Three weeks ago I found a lump in my breast and went to the doctor. I may have cancer.”

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  While Selena took a shower, Oliver sat at the kitchen table. He stared rigidly at his clenched fists. He wanted to pound on something. Pound it until his fists were bloody. Anything to rid himself of the gut-wrenching fear. If he lost it, it would frighten Selena and wake the baby. He forced his fingers to relax and pressed his hands flat on the tabletop.

  While he’d been having a blast practicing defensive driving skills, she’d learned she might have cancer. She’d had to deal with the aftermath of hearing those words alone.

  Guilt crashed into him with the punch of a breaching ram. The black coffee in his stomach burned like battery acid. Sweet Jesus. Nausea rolled over him.

  He couldn’t catch his breath. He ran five miles a day. Hit the weight and exercise equipment three times a week. Did PT when he needed it and, in certain instances, just to pass the time. But sitting across the table from his wife and hearing those words had punched the air out of him. Though he’d held her, told her everything was going to be okay, he hadn’t recovered. Not yet. He hadn’t drawn a full breath—and probably wouldn�
�t until the results from the needle biopsy were in—and only then if he knew for certain she didn’t have cancer.

  She couldn’t have cancer. Please, God, don’t let Selena have cancer.

  He shot up from the table and strode down the hall to Lucia’s bedroom. The combination of medication and exhaustion had finally overtaken the toddler, and she’d fallen asleep, her tiny limbs sprawled in boneless abandon, her hands curled into loose fists. Even in sleep she was taking on the world. Which was when his daughter was most like him. When awake and well she was never still, never quiet. She hustled through her day like she wanted to discover and absorb everything she could in as little time as possible.

  If Selena was sick, how would she be able to keep up with Lucia?

  At the sound of the water being turned off, Oliver left Lucia’s room and wandered into their bedroom. He hadn’t done enough to comfort his wife, to bolster her courage. How could he accomplish it? What could he do to show his support?

  Selena opened the bathroom door. Her dark hair was bound in a towel, her body wrapped in a long terrycloth robe. He had seen her that way—all bundled up in robe and turban after a shower—a million times, and never felt closed off from her. But something in her posture, her expression, warned him to keep his distance this time.

  The first time they’d made love had been after a trip to the beach. She had just showered off the sand and salt, and had worn a similar robe, with a bright red towel wrapped turban-style around her hair. He had led her over to sit on the bed, loosened the heavy weight of her wet hair, and buried his fingers in it. He’d cradled her face in his hands and kissed her until she opened her lips to him, and then her body.

  “What can I do, Selena?” he asked, his voice husky, echoing his emotions.

  “Nothing.” Her voice had an edge to it, then softened. “I’m tired. I’ve been up all night with Lucia. I just need to sleep.”

  “We both do.” He kicked off his shoes and stripped off the brown T-shirt and cammies. In his boxer briefs he stretched out on the bed. When she climbed into bed, he’d hold her.