She needed to prove to herself that she could make it on her own. She was done running into the arms of the men in her life.
The breakup would hurt for a while. But she jutted her chin toward Cooper’s face—that face she’d kissed and loved seeing kissing down her bare front.
Can I do this? She decided that somehow, the answer to that was yes.
“Cooper,” she said as she backed up far enough away from him so she couldn’t feel his heat. “Thank you for coming, but, as you can see, it’s like an anthill here. While my parents and I are grateful, I don’t think we need the SEALs getting involved in this.”
Cooper’s eyes glazed over. There was a twitch in his right upper lip. He looked like he’d been slapped. Fredo was staring at her.
It was a matter of logistics, she told herself. She was a logical person. Had a career path, had everything figured out, until that damned Dr. Gerhardt and his wayward libido sent her packing and home to San Diego. And now Cooper, with his cadre of friends just like him. Being honorable. Being just the kind of guy she didn’t want to be reminded she wanted. The kind of guy she wanted to run home to.
Except she couldn’t, wouldn’t let herself. She knew she wasn’t ready. Looking back at him, she was determined to show she was unaffected. She willed ice water into her veins, and raised her head atop a very straight neck. She got as tall as she could, inhaled quickly, and then exhaled slowly as she drew the courage to look at him again and this time show him her conviction.
Sometimes things that are good for you are also bad for you.
Damn!
It didn’t help. The stubble of his beard began to glisten in the sunlight. She focused on the crease at the right side of his mouth and, when he swallowed, she watched his Adam’s apple dip and rise from the top of his tee shirt. She had kissed that spot and knew the musky man scent of him there, felt those sharp bristles of early beard against her lips. The attraction pulled her almost to a swoon, and she struggled not to give in. Logically, she knew this was wrong, all wrong. But her body told her it was so very right.
Maybe it’s the fear. Maybe she just needed the security hanging around him gave her. Maybe it wasn’t attraction as much as need for protection. Of course, he would play the hero, be concerned. But she had to be strong and give him the out he needed, they both needed. She would have to act like she didn’t need him, want him so much. Maybe then she’d start to believe it. Some day.
It sure as hell wasn’t today. But she’d do the best she could.
Cooper stood before her in stunned silence. She guessed he hadn’t anticipated this. Just like at their first meeting, she’d showed him the distance between them. A clarity was coming to his eyes and he nodded slightly.
“So, I just don’t think there is anything you and your boys can do. Thanks, though.”
Cooper jerked to attention. “All right. Good,” he said. He scratched the back of his neck, his left hand snagged in his belt loop. “We don’t want to interfere.” He looked over at his Mexican buddy who was still fixated, staring back at her. Coop smacked him on the shoulder and Fredo came to. “Looks like we can go,” he told his buddy.
It broke Libby’s heart to hear the words. But he was right, of course.
Libby looked out to the garden shed and saw the gardener being interviewed by one of the police. The man was standing in his uniform: blue jeans and long-sleeved kaki brown shirt. He was holding a pair of pruning shears with a curved nub end.
Cooper nodded in her direction, “Well, if there is anything, you have my number. Give me a call.”
“Yes, I’ve got my trusty cell phone,” she said, drawing on the ice water in her veins. “I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry, Cooper.”
“Libby, be careful,” he whispered. “I mean it. We have a saying in the Teams, ‘Not everyone who appears to be your enemy is, and not everyone who helps you is your friend.’ Don’t trust anyone but the police.”
She wanted to brush off the words. It would have been smart to keep her mouth shut. But she wasn’t feeling especially smart. She was getting angry.
“Well, I guess I can draw comfort from those parting words of wisdom. Thank you for the gift of your advice. And for your cell phone number, Coop.” She dug her phone from her pocket, holding it up.
How dare he stand there so handsome, so commanding, so concerned? What right did he have to come marching into her life, demonstrating his six-foot-something-of-a-hero-stuff, when she’d made a fool of herself? Giving her Team advice like she didn’t have a brain, or was one of the Team guys? She didn’t own chainmail undies or stainless steel bras. She was flesh and blood and she was in scared to death. And somehow it was all up to her to figure it out.
The duct tape and steel cables were failing her right now. Her heart was crumbling.
“Libby…” he started to respond. His eyes had softened, but Fredo was pulling his arm and dragging him off the patio back into the kitchen.
“Come on, bro,” Fredo said to everyone within earshot. He was intent on getting Cooper out of the kill zone just as if a helo were waiting for them for an extraction.
Libby followed, not taking her eyes off Cooper’s massive back as he moved with long fluid steps toward the front door. She wasn’t going to make this easy at all. She half way wanted to give his gorgeous butt a push with her pink toes accented with daisy flip fops.
The team gathered in single file and left her house just as quietly as they had entered. Libby slammed the glass and steel door behind them and turned around before she changed her mind and went flying into his arms. She stood face to face with her mother, who was standing in the foyer with her hands on her hips.
“Just what the hell was that, Libby?” her mother asked.
“Nothing.” God, help me. Can I do this?
Her mother raised one eyebrow, shifting her gaze to the closed front door as if she’d see the team saunter back in.
Libby shrugged her shoulders. “Too much going on. It was a mistake that they came over. They realize that now.”
“I think they wanted to help,” her mother said.
“Really? I’m not sure I’d call it help. I just think they have to get involved in everything. They can’t stay out of the fray. Occupational hazard. Egos the size of California, I’d say. Meddling. Just like Coop coming to this house in the first place. They can’t leave us alone. We don’t need their help. Or their memories.”
Libby brushed passed her mother, who still stood with her hands on her hips. She ran up the metal staircase to her room. Once inside, she threw herself on the bed and grabbed Morgan. The stuffed dog smelled like her cat, Noodles. Libby burst into tears and sobbed herself to sleep.
Cooper didn’t say anything as they maneuvered around the police cars and groups of onlookers on their way down the street. His heart was pounding in his chest, sending vibrations all the way to his toes. He thought the tips of his ears were on fire. Back in the truck, he stared blindly out the dirty window as he sat in the second seat. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He knew the guys would give him a little space, but then they’d be all over him. Kyle would be the one to indicate when that would be. It was up to Coop to make the adjustment, and he was going to put all his effort into doing that. He didn’t want them thinking he was anything but whole.
Kyle’s phone rang. He was sitting next to Coop on the second seat.
“Hey there, Christy.”
Coop could hear his wife’s voice on the other end of the line. He’d forgotten they were supposed to see some houses today for Armando and Mia.
“Sorry, honey, but we got caught up in something. We’re on our way.”
Got caught up with something. Not exactly the right way to put it. Coop felt a friendly thump on his shoulder from Gunny, who was stretched out on the third seat behind him.
“Where to, Senior?” Fredo asked from the driver’s seat.
Kyle hung up the phone and gave directions to Fredo. Armando leaned back over the f
ront seat and shot Coop a wink, which pissed him off. But Coop knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to react until he knew for sure what he was feeling, or could bury it. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours he wished he still drank.
Where’d that thought come from? Although they pissed him off, he was grateful to be with his buds, the guys who would lay down their lives for him. And Gunny, well Gunny had nothing better to do.
Coop turned around and looked at the old Marine. “How you feeling these days, Gunny?”
“No, I did not quit smoking,” Gunny answered. “Don’t you guys ever fucking stop?”
“Thought we were gonna get another look at that chest tattoo again, Gunny,” Armando shouted back to him over the roar of the old beater. “That detective seemed kinda sweet on you.”
Everyone laughed, at Gunny’s expense. That was always the way it was. In an instant, the somberness of the moment was broken and Cooper began to loosen up. His need for alcohol vanished.
They drove down a tree-lined street of mostly small, single story homes with well-kept yards. They pulled up behind Kyle’s Tahoe, which was parked in front of a small yellow home with white trim and red tile roof. Kyle’s wife, Christy, got out of the truck, holding Brandon, their six-month-old son. Christy was jangling some keys as she turned the drooling baby over to his dad.
Kyle was totally focused on his son, making faces and imitating his baby talk, like they were two old men engaged in a meaningful conversation. It touched Coop how this man, so devoted to his wife and young son, was the same guy who could shoot enemy combatants while running in between women and children in the killing streets over in that hellhole. Kyle never made a mistake, and had covered Coop many times while he tried to give first aid to one of their own fallen, or to an innocent who had gotten caught in the crossfire. His LPO had so much to live for, yet the nature of their job was such that he could very well lose his life trying to help someone who wanted to kill him.
Not everyone you see is your enemy. Not every friend can be trusted.
But he could trust Kyle. Coop said a little private prayer that Kyle would always be rewarded with a long and fruitful life, to be able to watch little Brandon grow up.
Team jobs are for single guys. He couldn’t see how a married man could do it. The baby reached for him and gave Coop a gummy smile. Coop let the youngster grab his little finger and squeeze.
That’s right, little man, I’m gonna protect your daddy, just like he’s protected me.
Christy was opening the front door, talking to Armando in her cute, saleswoman banter, tapping across the floor in her high heels. Cooper saw that Kyle, gingerly holding the baby, was following behind her, watching every movement. He looked like it turned him on for some strange reason.
“You like going to open houses, LT?” Coop asked.
“Yeah,” Kyle said and Coop knew, no matter what, no matter how many times he asked, that was the only answer he was going to get.
Armando was interested in the recently remodeled kitchen, whistling as he ran his fingers down the new granite countertops. Gunny had checked out the master bedroom and bath down the hall. “Shit, guys, look at this love tub,” he shouted out. “Armani, you sure you want to buy this for Mia? With her taste in—“
“Shut the fuck up,” Fredo pounced on Gunny. “Don’t disrespect his sister, you asshole.”
Armando rolled his eyes and let the two of them work it out, obviously annoyed. Kyle was sharing a private look with his wife and was completely oblivious to anything else, even the baby, who had spit up and sent a buttermilk-like substance down the back of his shirt.
Coop paced back and forth. The house didn’t do anything for him, just like Libby’s huge house. He liked the size of his mobile home. He knew where everything was, and it was within arm’s length almost any time. This forced him not to collect too much stuff. His mom was the keeper of the mementos, which were all gone now. Buried in the rich, dark earth he’d loved. He wished that perhaps he had more than a couple pictures of his family. But it never occurred to him before.
Gone forever.
Chapter 19
Libby’s dad closed the front door behind their insurance adjuster. That left them alone with Detective Riverton. All the other police and fire crews were gone. A pungent burnt smell permeated the house. Even with the opened windows and fans, provided by the adjuster’s emergency crew, the house smelled unbearably toxic.
The family waited while Austin Brownlee slowly walked across the living room to sit beside his wife on the couch. Riverton sat on a cranberry overstuffed chair, identical to the one Libby sat on, with a coffee table between them. She was holding her breath, until she realized it. No matter how much she scolded herself, she couldn’t escape the fact that she was afraid, and she was very much alone.
It was a scene right out of a horror movie, Libby thought. Black streaks of smoke covering one wall in the foyer giving off a thick acrid smell. Water and large quilted moving blankets to sop it up were strewn all over the entryway. And her parents sat on the couch, hand in hand, behind a fresh bouquet of ridiculously bright and cheery flowers from her mother’s garden. Nothing was as it had been just a week ago. Libby’s life had literally gone to hell.
She remembered the words Coop had given her, to trust the police. So, with great effort, she tried to follow those instructions and forced out of her head and heart everything else.
“Okay, folks. This is what we got,” Riverton began.
“Whatever is going on, it has escalated to the point that I think we need to have a serious discussion about moving all of you out of this house.” He scanned the faces of his audience, and continued. “I’d be lying if I told you I could protect you here. This creep isn’t going to go away, and, although I’d love to tell you we have good leads, I’m just going to give it to you straight. We don’t.”
“But you haven’t finished your investigation, right?” her mother asked.
“Carla, we haven’t even started. Things are moving so damned fast. Tomorrow the fire investigator will be back over. His job is to make a determination as to the cause, after all the dust has settled. Your insurance is going to need that, too.”
“Of course,” Dr. Brownlee said. His face was pale, even with the suntan. His lips were dark pink, meeting in a flat line without a hint of a smile or frown. Libby thought he looked like he was in shock.
“Hopefully, he’ll be finding some clues, but right now, there just isn’t anything that points anywhere. We know the fire was started with some liquid, probably gasoline, and we think it was poured in the room from the window. We’ve taken the gas can down to the lab, but there are so many prints on it, I doubt anything unusual will come up.”
Carla looked at her husband, and then back at Riverton. “Who is under suspicion at this point?”
“Well, we’ve got the gardener, of course.”
“Oh, he’s not a threat to anyone,” Dr. Brownlee said. “He’s a grateful relative of a patient of mine. I’ve profiled him, and he’s clean. References checked out. He needs the money, and I don’t think he’d mess up his situation here.”
“Still, Austin, we have to treat everyone as a suspect. You understand,” Riverton replied.
“Indeed I do.”
Libby couldn’t hold back her curiosity, and her fear. “And Cooper? He a suspect too?”
Riverton turned towards her and his mouth fell into a scowl. He squinted at Libby as if sunlight were hurting his eyes. “Yes, I’m sorry to say. We have a photograph that matches the tats on his arm.”
“They all have them. I saw it myself,” Carla blurted out.
“I’m fully aware of that, and it complicates things a bit, but it doesn’t get him off the hook. Everything that’s happened has occurred since Coop first showed up at your door.” Riverton looked back over at Libby, eyes rheumy and tired. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to associate with him any longer. Until he’s ruled out.”
Libby’s
stomach knotted up and overflowed with bile. She stood before she realized what she’d done. “That’s not a problem. We’ve already come to that conclusion. I doubt he’ll be back,” she said. Her hands were flailing wildly at her sides. She wanted to run. Run away from all this.
“What could this boy have against Austin?” Carla asked. “And why would he and his friends come over today? Wouldn’t he stay away? He seemed like he genuinely wanted to help.”
Some people who look like the enemy are not. Not everyone who helps is a friend.
Is that how it was done? Was Coop trying to get to her dad by using her? As much as she might find that the solution to her confusion, it didn’t ring true. She just couldn’t think Cooper would have anything to do with this.
“Who knows? I’m going to talk to his Warrant and see if there is anything in his past, anything at all, that may have some bearing on all of this.”
“Well, he did just lose his entire family in a tornado last month,” Carla said.
“That’s convenient. But it’s also easy to check out.” Riverton stood up and walked to the window, watching the gardener drive off. “I’m going to want to see what you have on that man, Austin. One of our investigators didn’t like him.”
“My office is a mess, Clark. It will take me awhile to find his application and the profile I gave him.”
“You gave him a personality profile?” It was Carla’s turn to stand. “I can’t believe you gave him a test to be our gardener.” She crossed the room and then turned and came back. “Did you get a profile on the pool man too? The housecleaners?”
The pause was pregnant and said it all. Libby knew the answer was yes.
Riverton chuckled and shook his head. His hands were in his pockets, his notebook tucked back into the vest pocket of his coffee-stained shirt. “Your insurance will probably pay for your relocation, although you will have to check your policy. But I’d get working on that right away. Don’t spend tonight here. We’ll send a patrol around several times during the evening, for an extra set of eyes. You can lock up everything but the library. Put some plywood over the broken window, and I think that should secure it. But you have to leave, and I think you should do it right away, before anyone gets any other strange ideas.”
Fallen SEAL Legacy Page 16