SEAL Brotherhood Lucas

by Sharon Hamilton

  So now he’d gotten her fired. That was on him, not her. And that just wasn’t fair. She’d been a casualty of his desires. Oh yes, the desires were real, but she paid a heavy price for it. And could he be trusted, really?

  Now, so far away from her, maybe that was the safest for her. Not for him. God, he wanted to see her, but it was better for her.

  Her frustration speared him through the long, tired sigh he heard over the phone. He’d wanted just to touch base, yet he couldn’t tell her anything about what he was doing. Nothing like, “Oh, we’re just having a normal day, checking out terrorists, searching for bad guys at midnight, fraternizing with the Navy Women’s Soccer team. We’re buying big screen TVs and checking out contractors and little hottie Nashville chicks who want to hang out with these assholes we’re watching. We’re locked and loaded and nearly cut a guy’s head off last night, but other than that, we’re fine.”

  He really didn’t know what to say. And he knew he should say something, and quick, too.

  “That’s too bad, Marcy.” He winced, doubling over, socking his thighs with his fists. Coop looked up from his computer and grimaced at him. The tall SEAL held his palms out to the sides as if telling him, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

  “Too bad? Did I hear you right, Lucas?” He deserved every bit of her frostiness.

  “I mean, what do you want me to do?” He tried to be soft. He was listening for every little detail over the phone, any sigh, anything at all telling him she was okay with it. But he had a really bad feeling about their chemistry right now.

  The silence sliced down on the back of his neck. Shit. Here it comes.

  “You know, I might be some minor inconvenience to you, Lucas, and I do appreciate the call, but right now, I’ve got to sort out the rest of my life, since I don’t have a job and I won’t be able to afford to live in my place for more than a couple of months and no one in San Diego will hire me anyway.”

  “You’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you?” He bit his tongue at what an asshole he was being, but if there was nothing he could do, why pretend? She needed to calm down and solutions would come to her. In any high-stress situation, making a decision while upset could get you killed in the battlefield. And this was beginning to feel like a war. The love wars, like the boys had been telling him. But he also knew he was sounding like a royal jerk to suggest it. He didn’t know what to say to her. He cared about her so much and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but he freakin’ didn’t know what to say right now.

  He could feel what her face probably looked like. He knew she’d be bright red now. Her chest would be blotchy and she’d be shaking like a leaf.

  The last line she delivered, he knew he fully deserved.

  “You know, Lucas? I didn’t understand how Connie felt until today. Now I do. You are every bit the asshole she said you were—”

  “Marcy, wait—”

  “Wait? Wait for you to come back here to California so you can charm the pants off me again? You know, Connie warned me about you. I didn’t believe her. Now I’m thinking—no, I’m knowing she’s right.”

  “Marcy, calm down. You don’t have to get upset—”

  Coop was looking at him like he had black warts all over his face.

  “No, of course not. Who needs a fuckin’ job, Lucas?” She sucked in air. “I could go stand on a street corner here and pick up SEALs who want to screw, maybe make a few bucks to tide me over—”

  “No, Marcy. That’s just nuts.”

  “You know what’s nuts? Believing your horseshit. You remind me of the guy my sister dated. He’d put a big fuckin’ engagement ring on someone’s finger so he could get all the sex he wanted. When he broke it off, she gave the ring back. It was the best deal in the world for him.”

  “I didn’t get you a ring. I have no ring.”

  “Which means it was an even worse idea to agree to marry you.”

  “Marcy—”

  “Please, Lucas. I don’t want to hear another word. Let me cling to that tiny ounce of self-respect I have left. I thought you really cared.”

  “I did.”

  He realized he put closure to their entire relationship with that one. Coop covered his face with his hand and was shaking his head.

  “Oh yeah? Well listen here, sailor. I never did.”

  The line went dead.

  “Fuck,” he said and almost tossed the phone.

  “You are a seriously stupid asshole, Lucas. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone at your level. Ever. So all the stories are true. You and that stripper?”

  “Dancer.”

  “The trani dancer?”

  He was going to argue the point, but looking at Coop, he knew he should just shut up and get drunk.

  LUCAS WAS STILL festering, consumed in his head as they drove over to the building contractor’s office.

  “Would you stop with the fuckin’ sighing, Lucas? You’re acting like a teenager.” Cooper downshifted the van and pulled around the corner, sending Lucas into the passenger door. “Get your fuckin’ seatbelt on, man.”

  Lucas complied.

  “And get your mind off that phone call. We have to concentrate here.”

  “I know,” he said softly. He told himself he wouldn’t have taken it so personally if he’d been overseas. Over there, you knew you had to concentrate. Here, on home soil, it was something he was having a hard time getting used to. Terrorists here. Possibility of danger. Here. In Tennessee, of all fuckin’ places. It just didn’t fit.

  Coop drove them to the office of the contractor who built the barn at the complex.

  Inside the front door, a large fuzzy-haired dog slept by the metal reception desk. He rose up, blinking his dark eyes underneath soft bangs, regarded them casually and then laid his head back down over his outstretched paws.

  They were greeted by a young, ponytailed blonde girl who appeared to be high school age.

  “Can I help you?” She wore tight blue jeans, ones she looked poured into, and a pink flannel shirt in a plaid design, and pink cowboy boots. Her drawl was soft and sexy and Lucas again cursed his lack of judgment.

  Coop cleared his throat and took out a piece of yellow-lined paper with a building design drawn on it. “We’re looking to get some quotes on a building for my friend’s ranch. He drew this from a magazine.”

  She took the paper, regarding Lucas briefly, and then studied the drawing.

  “Let me get my dad. Just a minute.” With the drawing in hand, she exited through the glass door to the shop area in the rear. Lucas couldn’t help but follow her perfectly formed ass through the doorway. He told himself it reminded him of Marcy, but he cursed himself for the lie.

  A country station was playing in the background. Pictures of stalls, hay barns, and paddocks adorned the walls. The owner apparently supported several kids’ baseball and soccer teams. Framed letters from satisfied customers also cluttered the walls in small black frames. Although clean, the office was sparse. Two imitation leather chairs in an olive green color sat in the corner, bordering a corner table with a large amber lamp that looked like it had come from someone’s living room thirty years ago. A space heater in the opposite corner next to the dog kicked in, but the dog didn’t move.

  “Where did you get the picture?” Lucas asked.

  “Traced it from one of those farming magazines.”

  “Looks like the one—”

  “Shhh. Sort of. That was the idea.”

  Lucas took three steps to the side and bent down to pet the dog, who promptly rolled over and exposed his full underside, including an empty ball sac.

  “Sorry there, boy,” Lucas said to him. “You’re a friendly thing aren’t you?”

  A red-faced gentleman with a belly bump walked through from the back with the paper in his hand. He extended his hand. “Hunter Boles. I’m the owner.”

  His thick accent was difficult for Lucas to understand. Coop returned the shake. “Calvin Cooper here, and this he
re is Lucas.”

  Boles pursed his lips, a frown developing on his forehead. “Hey, Jake, get over here,” he ordered the dog. The animal scrambled to obey. His legs were long and thin, with a slim waist and large chest. Lucas thought he might be part Greyhound. “Some guard dog, right?”

  Cooper gave him a half smile. “I got a dog, Bay. About the same size, and he’s real friendly when I’m around. Not so much when I’m not. I’m sure your dog is the same way.”

  Lucas saw Jake hang his head as the door was opened and he walked slowly to the back. “Yeah, well, he’s supposed to earn his keep. My wife doesn’t like him at home because he sheds on everything, so this here’s his home and he’s workin.”

  Boles put the paper on the desk, smoothing it over.

  “This is just a rough drawing of what he saw.”

  “This your friend here?” Boles said, pointing to Lucas.

  “No. My friend lives west of here.”

  “Um hum.” Boles studied the drawing again, tilting his head to the side and scratching the back of his neck, then stood to address Coop. “So what’s he doing with the building, then?” Boles squinted up to Coop’s considerable six-foot-four frame.

  “Hell if I know. Gentleman farmer. Grows pot? He hasn’t told me. And I don’t ask.”

  “Gotcha. Yeah, we got a few of those around here.”

  “He’s got money.”

  “I would expect he’d pay cash.” Boles said as he narrowed his eyes.

  “Sure. He’s just looking for a good deal.”

  “So how did you get my name?”

  Coop shrugged. “No clue.”

  The owner pulled his pants up onto his waist, which was wider than his hips. “So don’t ’spose you know what size he wants, either.”

  “Big.”

  Boles grinned and Lucas could see a wad of tobacco stuck to his upper teeth, staining them a dark brown and making him look like he was missing them.

  “No windows, I guess.”

  “That’s what he drew. I thought he just forgot to put them in here. I mean, why would anyone want a building like that without windows?”

  “Well, it kinda depends on what you’re doin’ inside, Mr. Cooper. If you don’t want anyone to know, whole lot safer not to have windows.”

  “You build anything like this he can take a look at?”

  “Sure. Baptist Free Will Church over near Paris, but that one has windows. This here is really a warehouse. No animals?”

  “Again, Mr. Boles, I have no idea.”

  “Well, I need to know that. Ventilation? Air conditioning? He want it on a slab?

  “I’m guessing so, yes.”

  “Well, keeps the varmints out, too. Until it rusts.” He held the paper up. “Can I make a copy of this?”

  “Help yourself,” Coop said.

  Boles handed him back the drawing. “I’m a little uncomfortable talking price without the owner, you know, the guy who’s paying for it, being present. Don’t like to talk to representatives, no offense.”

  “No offense taken, sir.”

  “You shopping this around?” he asked Coop.

  “You’re the first person we came to.”

  “Why don’t you let me have a first crack at it? I’ll see if I can find you an overrun or slightly damaged building, if that’s not important to him?”

  “Sounds good to me. If I don’t have to drive halfway across the state, I’m happy with that.”

  “You fellas aren’t from around here, are you? You sound like a Midwestern boy.”

  “That’s right. Nebraska.”

  “I knew it.”

  “And I’m from California,” added Lucas. Boles completely ignored him.

  “Well, Mr. Cooper, I’m going to need the size, though, so you’ll have to get him to give me a call with that. I’ll have to see the site, study the road access for the trucks carrying the steel.”

  “Of course.”

  “How soon does he want this?”

  “He said as soon as possible.”

  Boles studied both of them slowly, focusing on their shoulders, forearms, taking special note of their tats. Cooper had turned his forearm toward his side, as did Lucas, to hide the identical frog print tats that nearly everyone on Kyle’s team had from inside their elbow to their wrists. Lucas made a note to himself to wear something long sleeved the next time.

  “You boys military?” Boles had taken on a somber tone, trying to sound more casual than he was thinking.

  “Ex,” said Coop.

  That seemed to satisfy Boles. He handed Coop a couple of business cards. “That’s got my cell phone on it. Use that number. I pick it up all the time, day or night, but never when I’m on top of a building doing an erection, okay?”

  “Thanks, sir. I’ll have my friend call you.”

  They both turned to go, Lucas opening the outside door first. From behind them, he heard Boles shout out, “What’s your friend’s name?”

  Coop slowly turned. “Kyle. Kyle Lansdowne.”

  Boles shook his head. “Never heard of him.”

  Chapter 24

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  MARCY DROVE LUCAS’ Hummer to the complex the bachelors lived in. Of course, she felt completely different now than when she and Nick had returned Lucas’ items. She had been in some fog then, clinging to some oversexed belief this was true love and Lucas was The One.

  Thank God for reality, she thought. Though painful, she made a mental note that a fresh start was what she needed. And maybe San Diego would remind her too much of the failed experiment that was her SEAL, Lucas. It would be a good thing if she never had to talk to another SEAL for the rest of her life. Except Nick, of course. But then, he wouldn’t really count, since he was out and Devon was her friend.

  Thinking about Devon’s career in Sonoma County gave Marcy an idea as she turned off the truck. She fiddled with the keys and saw what looked like a front door key on the fob. Perhaps that was to the apartment. She decided to try it, and perhaps call the Taxi from inside Lucas’ place.

  She examined the area, including the parking lot that was near drained of cars. That’s right. Everyone’s at work.

  She told herself it would get easier. Shrinking from the reality of her firing wouldn’t help. She’d face it head-on. Get used to the idea that, unlike the rest of the world, she was on a precarious footing, but she would definitely find a way out. And whatever was out there, was going to be a good thing. Not a bad thing. When had she not landed on her feet?

  Marcy knocked on the front door, and when no one answered, used her key. “Hello? Anyone home?” she said out of practice. The place smelled just like before. It was still a man cave. If she still harbored any warm loving feelings for Lucas, she’d stay and clean the place up, but she figured they wouldn’t notice any tidying up, and it would send the wrong message. The men had nothing living in the place that needed tending, like plants or fish tanks. Everything could be left to rot or dry up as she was sure they were used to doing.

  She examined the sagging ugly brown couch, and got the impression perhaps this was Lucas’ bed. Serves him right. The SEAL was freeloading on his buds too.

  She walked toward the dirty sliding glass door entrance to the balcony overlooking the parking lot. The barbeque was still covered in plastic, but the wheels and undercarriage were getting rusty from the salty air. The view was nice, seeing the bay and a large cruise ship pulling out, getting ready for a grand voyage.

  Maybe I should sail away. Take a vacation.

  She thought of Nick and Devon’s place, the winery, the beautiful scenery she’d seen on her way up to the house in Cloverdale. She did have a California Real Estate license, so relocating up there might work. Might. Maybe Devon could grease the way a bit. Hanging around Nick would be safe too, since he wasn’t really close to Lucas and probably wouldn’t have much to do with him. And somehow, she trusted him.

  Marcy discovered there was no apartment phone, but she did find a phone book and called a Taxi w
ith her cell, instructing him to meet her next to the Hummer. She peeked one more time at the four bedrooms, and again at the disgusting hallway bathroom with the raunchy posters and, as if she was saying goodbye one final time to Lucas, did a complete 360, not finding anything she wanted to memorialize. She was done. Time to go. Next fish to fry was moving all her stuff out of the office. She dropped the keys under the sand-filled ashtray pot standing guard by the front door.

  Halfway down the hallway, she ran straight into Connie Shipley, who was carrying a Banker’s Box. She had the baby in a front backpack and the little girl was tugging at her impossibly tight jeans.

  “You just keep turning up like a bad penny, Marcy,” the SEAL’s wife said.

  “Just dropping something off.” It was a partial truth, though she really had no reason to be inside the apartment.

  “Well then, you can open the door so I can give Lucas this shit.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Do I care? Did I ask that?” Connie balanced the box on the metal railing. The toddler was yanking on her leg, begging for something.

  “Well, I’m just leaving.” Marcy tried to walk past Connie, but her former client stepped into her path.

  “Hey. You got a key? Then I don’t have to leave these outside the door.”

  Marcy cursed inside at the thought Connie would leave a man’s stuff outside for anyone to steal. She knew Lucas wouldn’t be back right away, and she guessed Connie did as well. “Yes. I have a key. You don’t?”

  “Of course not. So you can let me in, and then leave it with me.”

  Marcy wasn’t sure what to do with that one. She whirled around, walked past Connie, stooped down and found the key and unlocked the door. She stood next to the frame while Connie and her box and two children entered. The way the woman wandered around, Marcy ascertained she’d never been inside the place before.

  “Where’s his bedroom, Marcy?” Connie asked, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows. She was still holding the box, while the little girl began running from room to room. “Lindsay, stop it,” Connie yelled.