The pink stucco home was on one of San Diego’s nicer streets. The picture she’d taken that morning didn’t do it justice. It had a rounded doorway like many of the bungalows in the area, with a red-tiled roof and iron grates over the tiny windows on the whole front side of the building, including the front door. Built just after the Depression, every house in town of that vintage was nearly identical, except for some interior remodeling and reversal of floor plan. The living room was always on the right or left and the kitchen was opposite, on the other side of the dining area. The homes had been built for younger families, but younger families could barely afford them anymore without help from outside.
She was admiring the pleasant picture on the screen when she heard his deep voice behind her.
“You’re Marcy Gelland?”
When she turned, his dark hair and deep blue eyes threw her off-balance for a bit. He was stuffed into jeans that were baggy at the calves and knees, but well filled out in the butt and groin area. And he’d caught her checking him out.
His eyes smiled while his lips didn’t move except for a tiny muscle on his left, which was a good thing. The resulting dimple at the left side of his mouth was giving her palpitations.
Well, of course he’s handsome, Marcy. What did you expect?
He smelled of fresh soap, wore a white button-down shirt with rolled-up long sleeves, showing his corded muscles and multiple forearm tats, including a string of frog prints going from his wrist to the crook in his arm. She was glad she’d decided to wear her dark blue suit, her power suit. She needed the strength and resolve it gave her.
Standing, she extended her hand and felt him give her a full-contact handshake ending with a little squeeze. He returned her palm in an altered state. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure her little dangle earrings were shaking.
Picking up her file, she asked him to follow her to the conference room. She could easily imagine him gazing at the movement of her hips under her skirt, so she attempted to walk completely without swagger, so as not to encourage him further. His mannerism wasn’t at all what she expected when he pulled out a chair for her. She was forced to say thank you, and then felt his fingertips glide across the top of her shoulders as he returned to his side of the table, sat with his fingers folded on the tabletop in front of him.
Marcy recalled what Connie had told her. He could be a charmer, and no doubt he was on his best behavior right that moment. If he expected any special favors, he was sorely mistaken. She inhaled, elongated her neck, settled her jaw and applied her professional mask as she met his stare.
He was stoic, seemingly unaffected by her in the slightest, leaning back against the padding in the office chair, breathing shallowly, but drilling her with his gaze. She could tell he was checking her out elsewhere, with his peripheral vision, but was skilled enough to hide it.
In spite of herself, she was dying to know if she’d measured up.
Get hold of yourself. He’s a predator, after all. Good at sizing up people, assessing his odds and calculating weaknesses. “So, Mr. Shipley—”
“Lucas. You can call me Lucas if you’re going to rob me. No need to be all formal about it.”
“I’m not robbing you—”
He put one paw on her hand, the one clutching the legal-sized manila folder with the listing information in it. The action made her jump and immediately pull away.
“Marcy, may I call you Marcy?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s cut the crap. I’ve given it some thought for, oh,” he pulled out his cell phone and checked the time, “about thirty minutes. She can have the house. She can keep it, sell it, give it away to a homeless shelter for all I care about it. That’s no longer a place I want to have anything to do with,” he said, pointing to the folder.
“Mr. Shipley—”
“I said call me Lucas,” he interrupted.
“Mr. Shipley, this hasn’t been negotiated and until you get yourself an attorney, you shouldn’t be offering anything like that to me. I’m supposed to be an impartial neutral party to this transaction, representing both of you—”
“Sure you are.” His arms were crossed and his left eye squinted, pulling up the left side of his lip.
“Well, you’re certainly not making it very easy for me.”
“What freakin’ rule says I’m supposed to make it easy for you? You think this is freakin’ easy for me?”
“No. But I’m here to get your signature on the listing contract for the house. Only the house. I’m going to tell your wife—”
“Soon-to-be ex-wife.”
Marcy nodded and stared back at his oversized fingers. She saw cut marks on the inside of his bent and misshapen forefinger and a scar running up from the knuckle of his middle digit to above his wrist. The scar was nearly covered by a patch of dark body hair. He was missing the last joint on his fourth and little fingers. The vision distracted her until she saw him dip his head down, looking up and across to her side of the table, expecting an answer.
“You were saying something about my ex-wife?”
She took a deep inhale. “Mr. Shipley, I was offering a peace pipe, of sorts. We can do this contract, and I can get the house on MLS tonight or first thing in the morning. I’ll tell her you wouldn’t agree to the other two houses. Perhaps, with your cooperation here, this afternoon, I can convince her not to pursue the other two homes.”
He leaned back in the chair, hiding his hands underneath the table. His chest fully rose as he gulped in air, and then his shoulders dropped as he exhaled. The scent of his body laced with what smelled like menthol shaving soap hit her in the face like a blast furnace and, in spite of herself, made her panties wet.
“And just why would you do that?”
She didn’t really have an answer, because it had just come to her as a strategy and she had no idea from where. “Just…I don’t know.” She shrugged, seeking words to describe what she couldn’t. Her insides were a jumbled mess. “I guess I feel like we should take this in little bites. The whole enchilada is probably hard to swallow at this point in time, Mr. Shipley.”
Oh, no. There it is again, looking at me that way. The edge of his upper lip curled in amusement. If they were familiar, if they were a – What in the devil are you doing, Marcy? By the arch of his dark brow, she could tell he was tempted to say something dirty about the size of her mouth and the whole enchilada, and she worked very hard to put it out of her mind.
She closed her eyes so as not to watch him, putting her forehead into her palm, trying to seize back control of the conversation. It was no use, when she opened her eyes, and regarded the hunky SEAL sitting in front of her, with that sexy way he objected to everything she was trying to do, even the favor she was trying to bestow on him, the butterflies in her stomach instantly multiplied. Connie was right. He was a charmer of the professional class. A sheer force of nature. Her heart was beating like she’d just run a marathon.
Normally, the calmest person during a negotiation, but today, right then, she was losing it, big time. She’d never before met someone who affected her so. Was she excited for the challenge, or was it something else?
God help me.
Chapter 5
‡
THOM GRANDE WAS waiting in the warehouse where the rest of Kyle’s squad assembled. The SEAL from DEVGRU in Virginia studied each man carefully, as Lucas knew he’d been trained to do. Lucas had deployed with the Varsity Group, as Team 6 was known, two summers before, although not during the deployment that took out BinLaden. It was a special operation of four weeks, which gave him a nice signing bonus—enough for the down payment on the house Connie now wanted to sell.
When Thom’s blue eyes met Lucas’, he winked, acknowledging the antics of the night before at the strip club. Lucas wished he could remember more of it. He hoped he hadn’t blown his chances to do a rotation with them, or perhaps join Team 6 in the future. Since he didn’t have anyone around to hold him back, doing the most dangerous tours overseas was
suddenly looking like the cure he needed. Way better than waiting for legal papers and the inside of courtrooms. He’d be crying, the kids would be crying, and sure as shit, Connie would drill him with a look that would send him straight to Hell.
Thom walked over to him, and they shook hands.
“How’s your head, Shitface?”
Lucas turned to Jake, who snickered.
“I’m fine,” Lucas mumbled. To Ryan and Jake, he whispered, “You fuckin’ told him?”
“It slipped,” Ryan whispered back. “But it was kind of obvious.”
Jeffrey and Danny entered the room, and Kyle called the meeting. “Okay, gents, yesterday was the briefing on that terrorist Jihadi John and what Thom and his boys have been dancing with. We have some late-breaking intel we were waiting for before we gave you the whole story.”
They waited. Thom stepped forward and stood next to Kyle.
“So, I’ve got some bad news, gents,” Kyle said.
Lucas could taste the juicy deployment he knew was coming up. Wouldn’t that make his soon-to-be ex shit her pants? Turf the little hottie realtor, although he wouldn’t mind hanging out with her again. He’d enjoyed the sparring the previous afternoon. He hadn’t been able to sleep much that night, thinking about all the things he could do with her, all the positions…
“You think something’s funny, son?” Kyle said.
Lucas saw bodies turn in his direction. His shit-eating grin and pleasant fantasy went right out the window as he realized they were waiting for him to respond.
“Yeah, asshole, I’m talking to you.” Kyle had his hands on his hips and a mean scowl on his face.
“Sorry, sir. Was thinking about something else for a second.”
Kyle’s jaw clenched. “You see what I’m talking about? You guys do that over there and you’ll get your brains splashed over all your buddies. Focus, goddammit. We’re not in high school.” Kyle sighed and continued with the monologue, but gave Lucas a nasty glare. Thom was standing half a body width behind Kyle, with his palm to his lips, having a hard time keeping a straight face, so the SEAL looked down.
Alex rubbed his dick against Lucas’ left butt cheek, messing with Lucas’ concentration, so he whipped around and tried to pop him.
“You wanna just sit this one out, Shipley?” Kyle barked.
Lucas knew if he told on Alex, he’d lose the respect of the team. He had to take it on by himself. “Chief Lansdowne, I got the runs. Got them last night. I was going to make a dash for the head, but I suddenly got control.”
He knew they were all busting a gut inside. Thom broke out in a full smile that Kyle couldn’t see.
“You want to go to the little girl’s room, then, Shipley? Or are we good now? Can we go on with our meeting?”
“Yes, Chief Petty Officer Lansdowne. I’m good.”
Kyle took one step back, folding his hands at his waist behind his back. “This here is SO Thom Grande, and he’s going to tell us what we just learned today.”
“Thanks, Chief Petty Officer Lansdowne,” Thom Grande said in a soft voice.
His smirk was subtle. Lucas could see his affable nature made him a natural-born leader. He couldn’t remember everything that was said the night before, but he remembered SO Grande had confided he’d had his share of difficulty with an ex-wife himself.
“We spent about four months last year on deployment, jumping in and out of Mosul, trying to rescue sensitive information and looking for one mean motherfucker, Jihadi John. I’m glad to say drone strikes have nearly wiped out the network he created and grew. But we don’t really know anything further since that region is off limits to us now, as you know, or at least officially.”
Thom paced in front of the thirty-man squad, walking a nearly straight line right down the middle of one crack between two poured slabs of concrete flooring, like the precision footwork was enjoyable to him.
“The nature of the enemy—of any enemy, for that matter—is to adapt to their environment and to stop doing what’s not working and expand what is. This cell is no different. The drone strikes and night raids we used to do a couple of years ago were eating into the propaganda value of their campaign. They went quiet after we captured the cluster of leaders at the top, and those bastards are now housed in Kurdish prisons, guarded by men who would rather kill them than guard them.”
Lucas waited for the first shoe to drop. He was salivating, the mantra deployment ringing in his ears.
“And when they went quiet, we thought perhaps they’d had a change of heart, or that the younger generation didn’t have the stomach for war. We considered it a good sign.”
Thom stood within two feet of the front line of SEALs from Alpha squad. “I was sent here because we received some intel we think is credible, and it involves Teams 3 and 5. Today, it was confirmed, and that confirmation was what I was waiting for before I could level with you all, completely.” He locked gazes with everyone in the front row. Then he paced back the way he came, gaining eye contact with every man in the second.
Kyle watched them all, as well. Thom completed his analysis of what was to be their future. Lucas couldn’t wait to hear the words, We’ll be deploying within the week.
“We have reason to believe there was a death squad sent specifically to go after members of Teams 3 and 5, as retaliation.”
He let it sink in a bit. No one said a word.
“Somehow, they got it that Team 3 and Team 5 were the ones who rounded up their leaders. They intend to bring some of you boys back home with them as hostages. To return the favor, so to speak. To show that it can be done—”
Lucas was hearing things he never thought possible, things so far from his imagination he had a hard time understanding the actual words. It was as if Grande was speaking Pashtu.
“—that terrorists could come here on U.S. soil, could kidnap a bunch of Navy SEALs and bring them back to Iraq. Their own twisted version of a snatch and grab.”
The squad erupted in a string of expletives, each mumbling their favorite words of disgust.
Jake was the first to speak coherently. “You have to be shittin’ me. That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”
Thom smiled, even though his gaze remained hard. “I agree. It sounds farfetched.” He looked right at Lucas as he continued, “But if they could, and that’s a pretty big if, the propaganda factor would be huge. Even if they halfway carried some part of it off, their mission would make headlines all over the world.”
Kyle took one long step, coming to sharp attention as he joined Grande. “Unlike our side, those bastards don’t care about the loss of life. They’re looking for sensational things they can do to swell the ranks with new recruits. Trust me, gents, something like this would be huge for them, even if they fail. And make no doubt about it—they will fail.”
Lucas still had one last hope for deployment. “So, what is it we do, exactly? Like when do we leave and get these assholes before they try to come over here and attempt their suicide mission?”
“You boys aren’t going anywhere overseas; not yet, anyways. You’re not due to deploy for another five months, at least. You get to stay here while the other teams are out. Team 5 will deploy in thirty days, as planned. But you guys—you? You get to hang around Coronado and become bait.”
Lucas was getting sick to his stomach.
Alex rolled his shoulder and growled, “SO Grande? Could you answer a question that’s bugging me?”
“Sure. Go ahead. I’m here for your questions. All of them,” answered the Varsity SEAL.
“Why don’t we just meet them in combat over there, like Lucas here just said?”
It was Kyle’s turn. Sucking in air, his back erect, he answered, “Because, Nowicki, they’re already here.”
Chapter 6
‡
MARCY WAS UPLOADING the rest of her listing, sending out the reverse match emails to agents who were looking for property in this price range and location, when her cell phone rang. It was Conni
e.
“Hi, there. Just uploading your listing right now, Connie.”
“Thank God. Do you have to inspect the other two houses, Marcy? I found keys for both of them.”
“Well, Connie, I was going to talk to you about that.” Marcy was trying to dart between the divorcing couple, noticing how anxious Connie was to untie their bond of marriage. “Why don’t we just take it one step at a time? I think Lucas has shown some cooperation. Maybe we can get a great offer on your house right off the bat, and that would take some of the financial pressure off you both for a bit until you get settled. We can always handle those other two listings later. We could perhaps offer to be reasonable if he cooperates, which would be much better for you.”
“And why would I do that?” Connie’s cold tone sent Marcy a chill.
“Well, I think it’s in your best interest to have his full cooperation on the sale of the house, Connie, don’t you?”
“I don’t care about getting cooperation. I want to make him pay.”
“But Connie, don’t you want to walk away with the most amount of money?”
“You mean, would I rather walk away with a ton of money or the satisfaction of screwing him six ways to Sunday? If you have to ask that question, Marcy, you don’t know me very well.”
The baby started crying in the background, and Connie went to retrieve him. Marcy really didn’t know Connie as well as she was going to, but she did know this wasn’t headed anywhere good.
Connie picked up the phone again and continued, “If you’re coming out here today to put the lockbox on, I can give you both keys. I have no idea if either of them are occupied—”
“He told me the house on Linda Lane had a tenant in it.”
“See? I told you he’d cooperate. That’s more than he’s told me. He hides that rent money, spends it on God knows what. Gambling. Girls. Drugs—”
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