I was thinking he might be able to use that as an excuse to get out of that house and even get Angel away from Cody.
But Wade picked up—they must have caller ID. And I knew from the way he was talking that Cody was right there, next to him. So I kept it cryptic, because I didn’t know how much he could overhear.
I gave Wade a version of that message, but he shut me down pretty fast. Angel couldn’t go anywhere—Cody needed her home. And I knew Wade wasn’t going out without her.
I was afraid he was gonna go through with his plan, you know, out himself to his brother, in hopes that he’d be beaten or jeez, even killed, so Cody would get locked up. So, yeah, I blackmailed him. I told him—and this was all in code and, you know, subtext. But I let him know, absolutely, that unless he promised to put his plan on temporary hold—at least until Colin was released from the hospital—that I’d call Ryan, right now and tell him everything.
Of course, the second I did that, Ryan would go rushing over to Wade’s house, and Cody would probably kill him first.
Once Wade got that message, he promised me that he’d wait to say or do anything.
And yes, Wade’s a liar, and I knew his promise was for shit. But it was all I had to work with.
And to be honest, there was no way I was going to tell Ryan anything. Put him in danger? Nope. So it was my bullshit threat versus Wade’s bullshit promise. A real liar-off, if you will.
Of course it didn’t hurt that Adam and Tony drove past the O’Keefe’s house while I was talking to Wade, and he saw their headlights out on the street. I may have let him believe that my many SEAL friends would swing by regularly throughout the night, even though they only went past that one time.
So yeah, I won.
No one died that night. (shakes head)
It’s freaking 2010. Coming out shouldn’t include a risk of a body count anymore.
* * *
LT Peter “Grunge” Greene:
Navy SEAL candidate Lieutenant (jg) Robert LeDay broke his foot about an hour before dawn on Thursday.
Stress fracture.
We have at least one per class. There’s usually no major event that makes it happen. You just take a step—same as the millions of other steps you’ve taken all week long—and a bone just gives out. It hurts like a son of a bitch. And it usually happens around day four, so this one was right on time.
LeDay tried to hide it. A lot of the candidates were limping. For some of ’em, the chafing was so intense they were full-on waddling.
But LeDay’s situation was different. He could barely walk at all.
I liked the man. He was solid. A good officer. And he had good support from his family, too. His wife Tamara and one of her friends were in town for the week, just to be here for him. Just to be nearby. Waving from the deck of The Del—the Hotel del Coronado.
You gotta love that.
So I tried to look the other way—focus down at my clipboard—whenever he hopped past me, but the medical team flagged him. And it took them maybe ten seconds. He barely got his boot off, and his week was over. His foot was a mess so he was rolled.
He was pissed. And his swim buddy was, too.
Ensign named Clark. Frank Clark. His nickname? Fark. Because apparently neither Frank nor Clark was short enough. But after LeDay left on a stretcher, I saw Fark eying Hansie Schlossman, who was also without a buddy. I shut that down fast.
“Yeah, I’m not gonna pair you with that jackass,” I told Fark, loudly enough for both Schlossman and Seagull to hear me. “Hans is staying in Squad John. Trust me, he’s not gonna last much longer, so why bother moving him over to be your burden, right?”
I walked away, fast, because I didn’t want Fark to say something stupid like, “I don’t mind, sir. In fact, how about I join Squad John?” I was pretty sure the ensign would’ve gladly buddied up with an idiot like Schloss, just to be in the Gull’s squad. Except it wouldn’t’ve been Gull’s squad anymore. As an officer, Fark would’ve taken command. And I definitely didn’t want that.
Besides, I’d already achieved my goal.
Schlossman’s default expression was this vaguely petulant and entitled that’s not fair, I’m gonna tell my mommy on you face that, frankly, annoyed the living shit out of me. But now he looked… stricken. Some men, you can needle ’em and their doubt starts leaking out through the cracks in their God’s-gift-to-the-planet veneer, but this was pure, unstoppable meltdown. Schloss nearly hit the pavement, he’d turned so completely into his own uncertainty and impending failure.
He was close—this (holds up hand, finger and thumb less than an inch apart) close—to ringing out. And he would’ve done it, too, but Gull saw the same thing that I was seeing, and the little dude somehow knew exactly how to defuse that bomb. He pulled his entire squad in close so he could talk to them all—and the way he did it trapped Schlossman smack in the middle. Hans couldn’t have gotten to the bell to ring it if he’d actively tried.
And you know how you see group hugs in civilian or corporate settings, and it’s always awkward and uncomfortable? Well, there should be a different name for it when a squad of SEALs or Marines or troops who’ve been in combat together hold onto each other in a moment of adversity or relief of survival, because the sincerity of the moment is… well, it’s a pretty fucking beautiful thing to see.
And whatever the Gull told his squad, it was clear it was what they all needed to hear, because even Timebomb—who’d been pretty damn cold to Schloss ever since Wednesday’s maybe they’ll both drown incident—reached out and put his hand on Schloss’s shoulder in team unity.
Yup, it was beautiful. It was one of those moments that every one of those men would remember for-fucking-ever.
Lucky bastards.
(Smiles) So I rewarded them with another round of surf torture.
CHAPTER NINE
Thursday
“What the goddamn fuck did you do, asshole?!” Wade’s voice, over the phone, was an odd mix of rage and panic—made even weirder by the fact that he was whispering.
Ben had just stepped out of the shower at Danny and Jenn’s house, and he now reached for his towel, attempting to figure out what Wade had thought he’d done even as he tried to not drip onto his phone.
He guessed, “I took a nap when I got home from the hospital, instead of calling you?” Danny and Jenn still hadn’t brought Colin home, but the baby was doing well enough earlier this morning that Eden had dropped Ben off on her way into work. The plan was for Ben to be here for backup baby-care when the exhausted trio finally arrived.
Still, a quick scan of his phone confirmed that he’d had no long list of missed calls from Wade. So that probably wasn’t it.
“You fucking told Ryan,” Wade whispered from between clenched teeth as Ben saw that he did have a slew of missed texts—from Ryan.
Where are you?
And We need to talk!!
And I’m going crazy over here!!!!!
I can’t stand this any longer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“He’s on his way over,” Wade hissed. “Right fucking now!”
“To your house?” Ben asked, grabbing his jeans and T-shirt.
“Yes, to my house,” Wade said.
“Oh, shit.” Ben wasn’t quite dry, but he pulled his clothes on anyway.
“Oh, shit,” Wade mimicked him. “What did you think was gonna happen when you told him, douche-wipe?”
“I don’t think douche-wipe’s a real thing,” he started to say, but instead went with, “I haven’t spoken to Ryan since Tuesday. He texted me a bunch of times while I was over at the hospital, asking for an update, but I didn’t see ’em until right now.”
Wade was insistent. “You must’ve said something—”
Ben cut him off. Arguing about who was to blame wasn’t going to help. “Is Cody still home?” he asked.
“Yes,” Wade whispered. “But he’s getting ready to go to work, and I think he’s really going this time. But if Ryan shows up…”
> Yup. Ben had a solid idea of the not-goodness of that scenario. “Okay,” he told Wade as he grabbed his sneakers and headed for the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten in a while, so he had to stuff something in his mouth before he took off. Particularly since he was home alone—and that meant he was going to be riding a bicycle over to Wade’s. “Get in front of it,” he said through a mouthful of cornflakes and milk. “Solidly. Tell Cody—right now, before Ryan gets there—that the school is sending someone over to, um, tutor you. Some stupid kid who wants to win his community service badge.”
“What the goddamn fuck is a community service badge?” Wade whispered.
“The student council gives them out to the honor students.” Ben drank the last of the milk from his bowl as he jammed some extra power bars into his pockets and took one of the small plastic bottles of OJ from the fridge. Danny and Jenn bought the single-serve size for exactly this reason. Mobile diabetes care.
“You are so fucking making that up,” Wade said.
“Yeah, but Cody won’t know that.”
Wade made a sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Goddamn, you’re good at shoveling the bullshit.”
Ben was. He’d had a lot of practice. For a long time, his very survival had depended on it.
“Get in front of Ryan coming over,” Ben said again as he got Jenn’s bike from the garage. It was one of those PeeWee Herman upright cruiser types with foot brakes—so nerdly it was cool. “And then when Ryan shows, don’t let him say anything. Talk over him, if you have to. Tell him that you’re ready to be tutored even though it’s a pain in your giant, football-playing ass, but he’s gotta wait until you find out if Cody’s got anything he needs you to do today, while he’s at work. You got that?”
Maybe that way, Cody would feel properly respected, and also not pick up on Wade’s anxiety that his ex-boyfriend was maybe going to out him. And maybe, too, Ryan would realize that he was finally going to get to talk to Wade, but only after Cody left.
“I’m hanging up—go tell Cody: The school just called and some douche-wipe tutor is on his way over. I’ll be there soon,” Ben promised and cut the connection.
Riding a bike and talking on the phone wasn’t one of his strengths, but he had to get going.
And he had to call for back-up. Like it or not, if Cody didn’t leave for work, Wade would need far more help than Ben alone could deliver.
* * *
Note to hardcore, longtime readers of the Troubleshooters series: read a baby-heavy, expanded version of the following scene here.
“Pterodactyl,” Ben said as Eden answered her phone.
And as he explained what was happening, she bit her tongue, because she couldn’t curse. Baby Central was teeming today with the under-five crowd.
Normally, in Eden’s job as head of on-site daycare at the personal security firm Troubleshooters Incorporated, she had only a few children in the infant-to-toddler age-range at any given time, with her most regular being adorably precocious two-year-old Ash Starrett.
Both of Ash’s parents worked at TS Inc.—former Navy SEAL Sam Starrett’s wife Alyssa Locke was also his boss here. Eden loved that. Tough and smart, Alyssa was the company’s XO, which was military speak for Executive Officer, or second-in-command. Alyssa answered only to company owner Tom Paoletti, a former SEAL commander.
But today, because of an important meeting downtown, presumably at the local FBI office, Eden had a roomful of two and four year olds.
Because of the overflow, Eden had “help” from some babysitters-in-training, in the form of Ash’s half-sister, Haley Starrett, who was nine, and her ten-year-old friend Robyn Nilsson—Robbi, for short—whose dad was an officer in Izzy and Dan’s SEAL team.
Like that wasn’t weird.
But okay. Eden was the grownup here.
Which was why she wasn’t shouting What the hell are you thinking?! at Ben as he reported that Dan, Jenn, and Colin were still at the hospital, so he was freaking riding a freaking bike over to freaking Wade’s house where freaking crazy-ass Cody was still home.
“Please don’t,” she said instead, in what she hoped was a calm-and-collected inside voice. “Please wait for help.”
“I already called Adam,” Ben reported. “He’s on his way.”
“Good,” Eden said. “Wait for him.”
“Can’t,” Ben said. “He was at some audition in LA, so he’s stuck in traffic on the Five. His GPS is basically telling him to pitch a tent. And Jay Lopez is in the middle of a physical therapy session for his knee.”
“Shhh…ugar,” Eden said.
Haley looked up at that, her blue eyes so like her father, Sam’s.
“Hale, go see if your dad’s still in his office,” Eden commanded the little girl.
Haley hopped over the baby gate that blocked the daycare center door as Ben continued, “And I’m sorry, but I’m not calling Danny. Not today.”
“No, that’s good,” Eden told her brother. “I’m in agreement. We can handle this without Dan and Jenn, except… everyone’s out of the office today.” Even the quirky TS receptionist, Tracy, was at the Very Important Meeting. “But Sam Starrett came in about twenty minutes ago, to check on Ash.”
It was Sam’s MO to arrive with a lot of noise and fanfare, but then to sneak away while Ash was distracted, so the former SEAL was probably already gone.
Haley came back, climbing over the fence, with the news Eden had anticipated. “Nope, Dad’s not here.”
“Shoot.” Who could Eden call? “Who’s in town and not at this meeting?” she asked Ben, although he wouldn’t know. “Maybe Jay Lopez can help. I’m gonna call him.”
Ben misunderstood what she meant. “I told you, I already tried him. He’s busy, Eed, but—”
“I meant I’ll call him to find out if he knows who else is in town,” Eden explained. “Maybe Ho-Hubert’s around.” Chief Hubert Bickles’s nickname was the very child unfriendly HoboMofo, but she’d caught herself in time.
Haley was standing there like she needed to speak, but was too polite to interrupt while Eden was on the phone.
“Hold on, Ben,” Eden said, nodding at the little girl.
“Um, my mom said to tell you she’s home today, you know, in case you need help…?” Haley said. Her mom, Mary Lou, sometimes subbed for Eden here at TS Inc. But Mary Lou and her second husband had a relatively new baby of their own, so the odds of her getting over here quickly enough so that Eden could rush over to Wade’s house to help save Ben were slim to none.
“Thanks, Hale,” Eden told the little girl, right before Ben said, “Holy shit!”
“What?” she demanded. “What’s happening?”
“I’m on Western Ave, just past the B-Plus, and guess who just pulled his truck into the Irish Pub—you know, it’s that crappy dive bar in the strip mall, next to that weird store that sells only ceiling fans—”
“I know where the Irish Pub is,” Eden said, “and I really don’t want to play guessing games, so will you just—”
“Cody O’Keefe,” Ben told her. “I thought that was his truck, and yup, it’s definitely him. He’s going inside.” His voice turned grim. “So my plan either worked, or I’m about to roll up on the scene of a triple murder. I’ll text you when I get there,” he added and cut the connection.
Eden took a deep breath, dialed Mary Lou’s number, then scrolled through her contact list, looking for Jay Lopez.
* * *
SEAL Candidate Petty Officer Third Class
John “Seagull” Livingston:
Day four of BUD/S—Thursday—wasn’t as much of a blur as I’d hoped it would be.
I’d heard guys talk about just sinking into the moment. Existing for a heartbeat. And then another heartbeat. And another. One at a time.
But what they forgot to mention was how badly each of those motherfrakking heartbeats could hurt.
And here’s another thing about it not being a blur—I was very aware of what was coming. Along with the endless log PT and s
urf torture, we had one more Around-the-World, pre-dawn this time, ending with rock portage—which scared the hell out of me.
What’s rock portage?
It’s as unpleasant as it sounds. You got your squad in your duck—your little inflatable. And the surf is coming in. This is on the side of the island being pounded by the Pacific, right? So you’re paddling like crazy people with your tiny little oars as the surf is crashing around you, and your goal is to land the freaking duck on this giant pile of breaker rocks on the beach near The Del without killing anyone or breaking anyone’s legs. And oh yeah, you’ve got to do it in the dark.
So that was coming. It was pretty much the last thing we had to do before we were secure.
So as badly as I longed for Friday to get here, I dreaded its arrival even more.
But meanwhile, I’m talking to the squad, cheerleading, trying to keep all of us going. We’re gonna make it. We can do this. It’s almost over, we just have to hang on. I just kept talking, I was practically hoarse, but I felt like it was helping our team unity, and that’s everything in Hell Week.
So yada yada yada, I’m just letting my mouth flap. Way to go, DB. You can do this, Johnny Q…
Then I hear myself say, “Once we get through this, Schloss, and we will get through this, then we’ll know that we can do anything.”
But then I think, Look what we’ve already done. And I realize that I already believe that we can do anything, and I think, Hell yeah!
Rock portage wasn’t gonna be easy, but so what. In the big picture, it was just another item to tick off of our Friday to-do list.
* * *
Ben made it to Wade’s house before Ryan did.
It was the pure luck of geography. Ben lived closer to the O’Keefe’s, and since neither he nor Ryan could drive, the right now in I’m coming over right now had a built-in auto-delay.
Wade opened the screen door as Ben stashed Jenn’s bike around the side of the garage, texting Eden with a quick, I’m here, all OK. Wade clearly wasn’t dead, nor was Angel who was nervously smoking a cigarette in the living room when Ben went inside.
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