Fallen SEAL Legacy

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Um hum,” was all Cooper said as he deposited the hand towel on the towel holder and leaned against the countertop, one tanned long leg crossed over the other. “You want to do that?”

  “They don’t think it’s safe in the house. Detective Riverton thinks we need to move temporarily.”

  “Um hum.”

  “I don’t want to stay with them. I want to stay with you.” There. She’d said it.

  His reaction wasn’t what she’d hoped.

  “Here?” he said with a shrug.

  “Yes.”

  “Heck, I’m not here all the time. You wouldn’t be safe here. No way I could make you safe.”

  “Then I could go with you.” Libby knew it was a ridiculous request as soon as she’d uttered the words, and instantly wished she hadn’t.

  “Libby, this is all real nice,” he said as he looked at the bed, pointing to it with an outstretched hand, “but…”

  Her heart stopped beating. She’d gone too far.

  He redirected himself and sat next to her. “Honey, I’m not in the position to have someone here 24/7. I do things, go to meetings. We do stuff to get ready for our next deployment. You can’t go everywhere I go. You know that.” He gently put his arm around her, but didn’t squeeze her to his chest. “It would be easier if you let the police handle this.”

  “But I feel safer with you.”

  She felt him stiffen. He withdrew his arm and stood up. A couple of petals from the bouquet of flowers mounted to the side of the kitchen wall dropped to the countertop. It made her sad.

  “I think we need to get on the same page here. Unless I’m mistaken, the police consider me sort of a suspect. Hell, someone might have followed us here, could be following me around. Maybe following you.”

  Libby was getting a sinking feeling she was going to get a talk about doing the right thing. Her stomach rumbled and she swallowed hard. She was thirsty.

  “Could I have a drink of water?” she asked.

  “Sure.” Cooper poured two short glasses with cold water from a jug in the refrigerator. He handed her one just before he gulped his down with one snap of his head.

  “I just don’t have any confidence in the police. And my father is in some kind of LaLa Land or something. He’s distracted. He’s never lied to me before like he has been doing lately.”

  “He’s not lying to you, Libby.”

  “Yes he is. He’s deliberately downplaying this whole thing. He’s not facing the reality of the situation.”

  “Well, what is the reality of the situation?” Cooper squinted, worry lines transcending his forehead.

  Libby didn’t have an answer for him.

  “Exactly, honey,” he whispered. “Who knows what’s going on? You’ve got to stay together to make it easier on the police to do their job. Besides—“ she could see he was being careful how he spoke, choosing his words slowly, “I’m not really supposed to interfere with civilian things. I’m strictly military. I probably have gotten too involved as it is.”

  He was looking down at the floor and Libby felt the chasm of her empty stomach. She waited for the awkward pause to get his attention, and it did. When he looked up at her, he wasn’t smiling.

  She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “Translate that for me, please, Cooper.” Her heart felt thick. Surely he could hear its beating from across the space between them.

  “It’s getting complicated, Libby. I’m not into this all-inclusive thing. Surely that can’t be a surprise to you.”

  He’d have looked hard if he wasn’t so damned good-looking. She could tell he was more practiced at saying goodbye than she was. But then his training helped with that. Of course he would learn how not to let his feelings show if it compromised a mission. Man of steel.

  No friendly chink in that armor for me?

  She knew the answer to that was a resounding “No.”

  This was the part of relationships Cooper couldn’t handle. He’d gotten involved sexually, and was now looking at the woman he was going to have to hurt, and he hated himself. Part of him looked for a way out, any way to allow him to spend more time in her company. But, as much as he wanted it, signals were coming to him loud and clear like those damned red extraction flares. Part of him wanted to be rescued. The other part wanted to fall down a hole and take Libby with him.

  That was no way to live. No way to treat an innocent. And he knew better, had told himself to watch out for this very thing.

  You dumb son-of-a-bitch.

  He needed to think. While Libby was anywhere close to him, when he could see her hot with arousal, hear her moaning—even the sound of her breath as she lay sleeping or the taste of a quick kiss—he was distracted. That part of him, the part that always figured everything out, was grossly disabled.

  This had never happened before. He’d rescued a mother and child in Fallujah just before their hovel of a home was blown to bits. He got them to triage, helped the woman cover up again so he wouldn’t be accused of being disrespectful. And the little boy, probably a fatherless boy, looked up at him with wide brown eyes filled with fear. He didn’t want to walk away, but he was able to do it and pray to God they’d survive the hell they were living in. He’d had his family waiting for him at home in Nebraska.

  But now they were gone. He hadn’t time to feel the pain of their passing. Or he wasn’t letting himself. And Libby’s family could never be a substitute for his. Was this God’s way of issuing payback? Telling him no matter how much good he was doing, he was still one sorry SOB?

  Be honest, you frog asshole. You’re thinking with your little brain.

  Logically he knew this to be true, but there was something else going on, too. Cooper decided he just couldn’t go there.

  He sighed and placed an errant lock of Libby’s auburn hair behind her left ear. “Libby, honey. I wanted to spend the day with you, but I think we should slow things down a bit.”

  He felt the instant vibration as she swung her head up to look at him and try to focus on his eyes. “What?” she asked.

  He could tell she wanted the truth. He hoped he gave her enough reassurance that he meant what he said. Maybe he was telling her this to convince himself.

  “I want to. I really want to honey. I didn’t expect for all this to happen.”

  “You fucked me and didn’t expect that you’d have to be nice afterwards? You don’t like the strings, is that right?”

  He winced, but couldn’t deny it.

  Her face was becoming hard. Her left eye twitched. “You’re good at the screwing, Cooper, I’ll grant you that. It’s the being a decent guy afterwards that you are a little short on.”

  It hurt more because he knew it was true. All of it. And because Cooper had never in his life been called short.

  Chapter 16

  “So, just take me home.” The words didn’t seem to come from her. Libby was as shocked as Coop appeared to be. He stiffened and then turned back to the bedroom. She chose not to dwell too much there in that no-man’s land, wondering if he really felt so dismissive, or if a part of him was tempted to stay with her, like he’d said. Either way, there were no winners in that mental tug-of-war.

  She remained on the couch, shoulders slumped, distancing herself from the agony that waited at the edge of her consciousness. She fixated on how ridiculous her pink toes looked against Coop’s indoor-outdoor green carpet. She wished she was on the fairway at one of her father’s favorite courses instead of staring down at the plastic lawn, which looked like someone’s cheap idea of paradise.

  She rose slowly as he put on his jeans, and then slipped a white T-shirt over those pecs and shoulders she’d been admiring earlier this morning, when her world was purring like a kitten. When that feeling of his arms around her, his body merging with hers, made her feel glorious and absolutely immortal.

  Again, she cut those thoughts off. Not helpful. Coop studied her. She could detect an inkling of emotion behind his eyes just before they glazed over, maintaining co
ntrol over—what? Over a breakup? Was that what this was?

  “So I guess we’re done, then,” she said, pushing the limits. She hated herself afterwards. Why did she say such stupid things? Why couldn’t she just zip it?

  “If that’s what you want,” he said. His half-whisper and melodic man-voice-vibration made her tingle in spite of the dull ache in her heart and the lurch in her stomach.

  She stood up with the sheet still draped around her body and pulled herself together. With a deep breath, she stepped towards Cooper, felt him inhale sharply as she put her palms on his thinly covered chest.

  “What I want, I can’t have.” She pressed her fingers against his white shirt and looked into his face. She let him see her emotions and near lack of control. Her naked soul. Her need for him. Best to show him her truth if it was to be the end of their relationship.

  He didn’t bend to suckle her lips, as he would have just a half hour ago. He seemed to soak in her discomfort, all of it. Was this what he was used to? Her tears spilled over and dripped silently down her cheeks, onto the white cotton sheet, but she wouldn’t let go of the gaze. It took every ounce of strength she had left to will the weeping to stop.

  But it did.

  Her eyes fluttered down to his lips that parted, came closer, and engulfed her and for just a second all was right with the world. One glorious second. A gallows’ kiss.

  Testing him, she moved closer to feel his hardness against her belly until he moved back, separating them. Then he withdrew his mouth and enveloped her in his arms, hugging her tight, but safely. It wasn’t a sexual hold. It was how someone would hug a child they wanted to protect.

  Cooper was grateful at first that Libby didn’t want to talk as he drove her car back to her parents’ house. But soon the thickness of the dark space between them pressed against him and raised his hackles. It was always like this when he was ready to walk into harm’s way. He’d learned to pick up the hotheads—people with strong emotions and the weird energy emanating from the insanity of life under extreme pressure. His training gave him the instincts to recognize when those around him were overwhelmed and would do things they normally wouldn’t do.

  He’d asked her if she wanted to go somewhere for breakfast, but she politely declined. Part of him was grateful for that.

  As the blocks leading up to the Brownlee home passed, he began to relax. He was getting more and more confident a major scene had been averted. She was a strong girl. God, how he loved that about her. She bore her pain silently, didn’t go bringing down the whole world when she was hurting. Kind of reminded him of the way he’d been brought up, and then trained as a SEAL. Okay to feel the hurt. Not okay to show it.

  Except this time, something felt slightly off, as if he should be sharing something more with her. He didn’t want to tell her thank you for the great sex they’d had. He couldn’t apologize. He just needed to shut the fuck up. And keep his fly buttoned.

  He parked her car at the curb behind a pickup truck. His scooter had been moved to the side yard, a safe distance away from the garage doors. He went around the car to open Libby’s door, but she was already out and walking up the brick walkway, past the now infamous mailbox. She walked tall. He could tell from her gait she was holding her breath.

  At the front door, she abruptly turned and extended her hand.

  “Thank you for the good time. Good luck on your next deployment.”

  He avoided the obviously ridiculous handshake and had to look down. She was way too brave for him right now. It wouldn’t be proper to show her anything of his soft side.

  Tilting his head to look to the house next door, he began, “I’m not really the one you want, Libby.” She didn’t say anything, so he got the courage to scan her face, and stepped to put his arms around her waist. “But if I was—“

  Just then the front door opened. Carla Brownlee came outside to join the two of them on the porch. Cooper dropped his arms immediately, took a step back and cleared his throat.

  “Oh. I thought I heard something. Forgive me for intruding,” Carla said with a shy smile. As an afterthought, she added, “Glad you’re home safe and sound. Your father’s been worried and…”

  “Please, Mom, “ Libby began. Cooper could tell she was annoyed with her mother. “I just need a minute. I’ll be right in.”

  “Cooper, you kids want something to eat? I still have breakfast out,” Carla Brownlee asked.

  “No, ma’am. But thanks. I’ve got to go.” Food was the last thing on his mind.

  Carla retreated inside the house and closed the heavy glass and metal door behind her. Just then, Cooper realized that her mother had seen his embrace with Libby and had still chosen to interrupt.

  No matter. We’re done, anyway. He was sad, but getting used to the feeling. He knew a couple of guys who could help him forget his woes. An action plan was forming.

  Then he remembered the cat, the letters and the possible danger Libby and her family were in. Well, he could do something about that. It was wise he extract himself from her life, but he needed to let her know she could still count on him, in an emergency.

  “You’re going to want to cooperate with the police fully,” he said. “They know how to handle creeps like this. My hope is that he’ll either be stupid and get himself caught, or tire of the caper and go prey on someone else. But do everything they tell you to do, okay?”

  Libby nodded her head like she was seven and he’d just told her how to feed a cat.

  “Give me your cell,” he said.

  At first, Libby furrowed her eyebrows, cocking her head to the side. While he remained quiet, she began the task of rummaging through her considerably filled bag until she produced her phone from the bottom. She presented it to him with a huff. Her gentle scent filled his nostrils and he started to get hard.

  He began to punch numbers into her contacts file. “This is my cell, but it won’t look like this number when I call you because it’s scrambled in the routing.”

  “Okay.” She was looking down as his fingers worked.

  “Call me if something happens. I can be here usually in less than a half hour. Don’t go anywhere without your cell, okay? That way, you’re always tracked.”

  “Tracked? You actually think I’m in danger of being kidnapped?”

  “Of course not,” he said, but felt his stomach clench. “I just want you to be careful.”

  “I see,” she said with steely coldness. “Protection, using my head, being prepared, like I so haven’t been doing the last two days.”

  It hurt, but anger flared up inside him at her reaction to his genuine concern for her safety. He was only trying to help and here she threw it in his face.

  Women!

  “Be safe, Libby,” he whispered.

  “Of course I’ll be safe. I have my cell phone to protect me.” She held the phone up in his face, and then entered the front door, slamming it behind her.

  Cooper cracked his neck and rotated his right shoulder. He turned, and walked across the pathway in front of the triple garage doors, and drove off on his red scooter.

  A half hour later, Cooper was devouring a large crab omelet at the Scupper. He saw the familiar stubby shadow of Fredo at the doorway, walking into the ever-dark restaurant bar. Fredo sniffed the air right in front of his table.

  “I don’t smell dog,” he said.

  “Fuck you, Fredo. Bay’s at home. He figured he wasn’t exactly welcome here.”

  “Oh, he’s okay. It’s his dog hair and salt water-smelling pelt that isn’t,” Fredo said with a wince. He hailed the waitress for some coffee, and sat down across from Cooper.

  “So, you want to hit Gunny’s after breakfast, or you get enough exercise this morning?” Fredo looked up at Coop under his bushy eyebrows. Creases on his forehead made him resemble a Shar Pei.

  Cooper knew he deserved the ribbing. He’d neglected his best friend and constant companion. They commonly introduced themselves as twins. It never ceased to draw laughter fr
om the fairer sex since there was more than a foot difference in their heights. Cooper resembled a Viking king and Fredo a Mayan priest.

  “Sounds good to me. You eat?”

  “You’ll be happy to know I did. Armani’s mom made some fresh salsa and I doused everything in it.”

  “I’ll bet.” Cooper finished the last bite of breakfast and took a long sip of water. After grabbing several packets of sugar, stuffing them into his back pocket, he rose and brought his tag over to the cash register. Fredo followed behind.

  “Let’s take the truck. You can get your scooter later. Or, do you want to scratch it up putting it in the back?”

  “I’m leaving it right here. Safer than Gunnys’.”

  Cooper opened the rusted green door to Fredo’s beater and climbed inside. He found the floor of the truck after brushing aside a few fast food wrappers with his canvas slip-ons. He flicked the hula girl stuck to Fredo’s dash and she performed for him.

  The smoking truck made it down the quiet street, backfiring just before they turned right. After a short drive over the bridge to the Strand at Coronado, they drove a few more blocks until they crossed railroad tracks in an industrial area. Gunny’s Gym it said on the plate glass window. Below the lettering was a Popeye-like character holding a barbell, sporting an anchor tattoo on his forearm.

  They pushed open Gunny’s glass front door, tinkling the little bell hung at the top of the doorframe. Gunny was reading the paper, but the TV was blaring a newstalk program. Two older well-built men were spotting each other with free weights. Cooper recognized them as retired SEALs from Team 5.

  “Gents,” he said to them. He got a nod for his effort.

  “Well, if it isn’t lover boy,” Gunny blurted out loud enough for the silver SEALs to hear. Cooper sighed and prepared himself for another ribbing. It was always this way. Everyone in the whole community knew he’d just lost his entire family. Knew he’d spent some time with a sweet young thing after he got back. Knew that Timmons had ordered him to stand down for a few days, and knew that the only thing he probably wanted to do was go back on deployment to forget about both situations.