Once a SEAL

by Anne Elizabeth

  “This is a first. We’re the only ones here. I can’t ever remember that happening. It’s usually hurry up and wait…and be patient, when it comes to the military.” Dan spoke softly. He seemed to be waiting for one of the people behind the desks to notice them. When no one did, he cleared his throat and then all of the office workers looked up at once. Aria almost laughed out loud at her mental image of a family of meerkats in white cotton shirts and ties, staring at them in surprise.

  The person closest to them gestured for them to sit in the seats in front of his desk. He was an older man of Hawaiian descent, and his eyes were the color of buttery toffee. “I’m Mr. Saba. How can I help you today?” His voice was heavily accented, and the baritone sound rumbled in their direction.

  “Mr. Saba, I need to get an ID for my wife. This is Aria.” Handing him the envelope full of credentials, Dan added, “I apologize in advance for this, but we need to be back at the housing office within the hour.”

  “You have a red-hot housing prospect. I understand.” Checking the clock, Mr. Saba nodded. “Happens more than you think around here.” He perused the papers and then slowly pronounced, “We will make your deadline in plenty of time, young man. Now, let’s see to your bride.”

  Saba’s fingers flew over the keyboard like magic as the information was entered into the system in record time. In less than five minutes he was flipping the screen toward them. “Please confirm that all of this information is correct. Sign this and I will take Mrs. McCullum’s picture, print your ID, and you’ll be on your way.”

  “Great,” Dan said. “Thanks.”

  Aria’s eyebrows rose. This was it. This was the way everyone was going to see her from now on. She was Aria McCullum, Dependent. But she had never been dependent on anyone—not ever—in her whole life.

  “Yes, it’s all correct.” She nodded her head and then felt the flash as the camera took her picture. There it was…documented, filed, and frozen in time forever. Her identity.

  ***

  After visiting the housing office and securing their key, they stopped at the commissary and picked up sandwiches, chips, and a container of sliced fresh fruit. Then he drove her across the base and over to an empty parking lot, where they could watch the planes take off and land.

  Someday soon she would be dropping him off at the terminal on the other side of the strip and saying good-bye for an unknown period of time. He felt she’d handle it okay. Nothing could be as bad as Dirks’s first wife, who had almost banged down the CO’s door, demanding answers as to where her new husband was. Christ, he hoped Aria would never do that. From what he knew of her, she was pretty levelheaded. Regardless, he’d brief her on the ins and outs and introduce her to the Ombudsman, who would provide info and act as liaison.

  “You’re pretty quiet,” she said, opening her sandwich and taking a bite.

  “Just thinking.” He smiled at her. “There are details I need to share with you on Navy life. After we move into the house, I’ll fill you in. Okay?” One step at a time, chunk by chunk, he’d help her get assimilated. No sense in freaking her out within twenty-four hours of getting married.

  He took off the sandwich’s wrapper and took a giant bite. God, it tasted good. His stomach ached from the lack of food. Wolfing the first half of the turkey on wheat bread, he washed it down with a quart of milk, then popped the top on the container of fruit and scarfed down four slices of melon.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing over her shoulder.

  “Behind us is the old O Club—the Officer’s Club—which they use for weddings and events now. There’s a three-quarter view of the island from up there. I’ve been to a few celebrations there. Next to it, that’s the Base Commander’s house, and next to that is a house where Admirals might stay.” Pointing across the airfield, he said, “Over there, you can see a large plane. Those are sea lions being loaded into the back. I’ve met several of the trainers who work in that program. Pretty cool stuff! They teach the creatures to find everything from enemy subs, swimmers, and even bombs. I’ve got a lot of respect for them.”

  Dan stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth with each bite of the second half of his sandwich. He was like a vacuum cleaner.

  Aria watched him demolish his food in record time. She was still working on the first half of her sandwich when he opened his second one. After visiting the commissary, she was thinking about the grocery list she was making in her head. “How much do you eat in a day?”

  “About four thousand calories. I carbo-load as we prep for Ops. I tend to burn a lot of energy quickly.” His teeth ripped off a large chunk of the sandwich, and he made a grunting noise with it.

  “Animal!” she retaliated.

  He chewed and swallowed. “Is that a label or a request?” Waggling his eyebrows at her, he continued to speak between mouthfuls. “What can I say, I’m starved. If someone hadn’t eaten my emergency granola bar, I might have more control.”

  “Uh-huh.” She lightly punched his arm and went back to her sandwich. “So why didn’t I know this about you?”

  He shrugged. “It’s natural that there are things we’re going to learn about each other, right?”

  “Sure,” she replied uncomfortably. What other surprises were in store for her…in terms of his life? Maybe she should stick to the basics: food, clothing, and shelter. “What should I stock in the refrigerator—or cupboards, for that matter? I assume I’ll be doing most of the grocery shopping on my own.”

  “I’ll help when I can. Just know, whatever you get will be fine. Fish, fruits and vegetables, pasta, and lean meats are my favorites. I eat it all, though.” He made a face. “Wait, I’m not fond of liver. Please don’t get that.”

  Holding up a hand, she waved it in front of herself. Forcing the bite in her throat to go down, she added, “No problem. It’s not my favorite either.” She took a sip of her cranberry juice and then asked, “When do we move in?”

  Digging into his pocket, he removed the brand-new keys. He jingled them. “What a terrific sound.” He smiled at her. “How about today? When we finish eating.”

  Wrapping up the rest of her sandwich, she placed it in the bag and drank down the rest of her juice. She stowed the bottle and turned to him. “I’m done. Let’s go.”

  He laughed. “Anxious, much?”

  “Hey, I gave up my honeymoon and a pretty killer breakfast for this. Let’s get to it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she smiled. It was hard to be serious when he was staring at her like that. Her phone beeped and she checked it. A client wanted to talk to her about his advertising materials. She would have to get back to consultant work soon enough. Sending a quick message, she told him she’d talk to him next week.

  “Work?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “No worries.” Dan saluted her. “Onward, ma’am. Your pleasure is my duty.” With that, he stuffed the rest of his second sandwich into his mouth, started the car, and put it in gear. They drove out of the parking lot, onto the road, and underneath a giant plane as it flew above them, preparing to land.

  “Wow!” She held her breath. It was an awesome sight. She wondered if she would have been able to touch it if she’d reached out a hand.

  “Yes, indeed,” he said. “That’s why I brought you here. Someday we’re going to fly on one of those C-130s, and we’re going to travel to wherever it takes us—Australia, Spain, and Italy. We’ll explore the planet, just my partner and me on an adventure. How does that sound?”

  “Exciting. Scary. And wonderful.” She loved the idea of visiting those countries and seeing everything through his eyes. Sometimes his wishes sounded too good to be true. Yet she longed to incorporate his optimistic beliefs into her own and lived to make his dreams become theirs. Did he know she was often uncertain, not about herself, but about others? She knew it was a conflict—an optimistic person who also worried, always waiting for the other shoe to drop and some kind of chaos or upset to come her way. Maybe she could let go of her old
habits and become like him. She wanted the life he talked about, and she wanted to be the person she was with him. Even though it wasn’t easy, he made her better.

  Dan grinned at her. “Good. Because I want to take you places that are mind-blowing, whose beauty takes your breath away, and whose people touch your heart in a manner you never imagined…”

  Reaching across the small distance, she took his hand. Their fingers entwined. “With you by my side, I’m ready. Bring it on.”

  Chapter 4

  September 15, Operation White Pigeon, an undisclosed location in Asia

  Bullets struck the water only inches from his face, forcing columns of vertical spray to rise as high as a foot. He resisted the urge to take the bait and to expose himself to the enemy.

  Less than a week ago he’d been on his honeymoon, and now he was surrounded by water, over a continent away. His wife was packing her apartment and preparing to move into their new home, and he was hidden among the reeds. He was practically invisible to the naked eye, and he was damned well going to stay that way.

  Gunfire peppered around him, so familiar from training that he’d become almost immune to the sound. But he wouldn’t be immune if he got hit…he had to remind himself of that at times. Remaining hidden wasn’t just a matter of his survival, but the Team’s, too.

  Abruptly, the firing stopped. The display had been routine. The soldiers were moving away from the bank of the river now. If anyone had truly seen the SEALs, there would have been grenades and a more aggressive exchange. It was imperative the Team remain invisible.

  The rustling of foliage signaled the departure of their foes. Bastards barely had any protocol—they sounded like elephants.

  Cocking his head to the side, Chief Dan McCullum caught the signal from the point man and the LT. Zankin and Dirks were bringing up the rear, and the rest of them were in the middle. It was an eight-man mission. They would wait for twenty minutes—in case the enemy’s retreat was a trick—and then it would be time to move. If they heard one twig break or strange leaf rustle, they’d sit there longer. Their ability to be still was part of their training, often forcing the enemy to give themselves away.

  Time clicked by. Nothing happened.

  Then, like cottonmouths in a swamp, they ghosted forward, swimming soundlessly through the water. They’d trained for this type of mission, going over the sequence on a similar terrain, for months. Peacetime was for practice so war was a reflex. Either they’d achieve their goal or die trying.

  Their Intel, confirmed by several sources, was that Ru Ryuk Kang had become an enemy of the United States of America while stationed abroad. Ru had begun his career in the U.S. Diplomatic Corps and then “defected” to his ancestral homeland to pursue his real job as a double agent. In truth, his job had been to spy for the U.S.

  Ru had been making significant headway, but one day the flow of information stopped. It was now believed he’d been turned again and that he’d directly led to the death of fourteen agents.

  The problem with spies was that sometimes agents began to believe their “surrogate” country’s propaganda—that bullshit they wallowed in each and every day. That’s when a turned agent became dangerous. Just because an operative was vetted for a covert assignment didn’t mean he had the brains and balls to keep his mind-set together and stay on mission.

  In Ru’s case, it didn’t seem that he had been planted long enough to go nuts. But within only a couple of years, the hidden agenda had come to light and the body count could not be denied.

  The U.S. had planted him. Now it was SEAL Team’s job to take him out.

  Dan’s head emerged briefly. He slowly drew in air and slid back below the water. The last time he had been in this country, it was to gather Intel from a different person. A mission had gone horribly wrong when the enemy shot Sandra Niang as she reached out for him. Dan had been tasked with keeping her safe. Even now the memory was seared into his senses: The crack of the shot being fired. The way it impacted her body…and the blood. Her lips moved…providing the urgent Intel. Even in death she’d been loyal.

  The memory slipped through his mind and out again without causing his focus to waver.

  When the orders had come down that they needed a Team to go in-country on a covert jaunt and that the repercussions of being discovered included torture and possibly the next world war, SEAL Team THREE’s Platoon 1-Bravo—nicknamed the Ghosts of the Teams—was tagged for the job.

  He was grateful to be back. Maybe this time he would get a hint of who had ordered Sandra’s death, and they could avenge her. Not that a vendetta was part of their mission, but it would feel great to him. He wanted to protect those who fought and sacrificed for the USA, and revenge seemed to honor that memory. It was one of the reasons he had been given this task, aside from the fact that he abhorred traitors.

  In sync, the Team emerged from the water, guns held at the ready. Everything was clear.

  One by one they left the wet depths and moved in the forest, taking up positions prior to infiltration. Moving soundlessly, they headed forward like an oddly shaped serpent. Their path took them deep into a forest and finally toward a small vine-covered house.

  A sweep of the area showed that no other soldiers or guards were lurking in the shadows as Dan, JC, and Hammer slipped inside. Being the first into the room, JC found Ru asleep in a chair, listening to a recording of some kind of discordant symphony. Next to him was an empty bottle of Irish whiskey and a crystal glass. On his wrist was a shiny new Rolex encrusted in diamonds, and a large opal in a gold setting gleamed on his forefinger.

  To Dan, it didn’t seem like enough to betray the USA. But what did he know? He was just as happy eating Spam as he was eating steak. What luxury could fill the void, when you gave away your integrity and your honor for it? That soul-sucking forfeit had the means to torture you forever.

  The room was lushly decorated in silk fabrics and what looked like original art and antiques.

  On the couch across from Ru was a sleeping woman. She was short of stature, native to the country, and her long white robe gaped open, revealing her naked body. There were marks around her throat and wrists, most likely from recent rough interactions. White powder clung to her nostrils, and more cocaine was laid out in rows on the table next to her.

  JC signaled him and then moved ahead, pulling from his belt a locally crafted, traceable blade specially garnered for this mission. He clamped his hand over Ru’s mouth and slid the knife swiftly and efficiently across his neck, severing the carotid. When the body stopped its spasms and the life had drained free, JC tossed the knife gently to a spot on the carpet near the woman.

  Dan glanced briefly at the traitor. This turncoat wouldn’t be sharing any more secrets…with anyone.

  The betrayer’s eyes were open and his mouth was wide. No sound came out. Blood had sprayed dramatically along the wall and chair, turning the room into a macabre painting. So much for the museum-quality art.

  Dan checked back at the couch where the woman slept. Must have been some marathon she and Ru had had. At the very least, the drugs had been effective, because her breathing was even and there was rapid eye movement. She was still out cold.

  JC nodded at Dan and they started to backtrack out of the room. The frame job looked authentic enough to point the finger at the right person. Her.

  Suddenly, soundlessly, without warning, the woman attacked. She was on JC like a leech, trying to draw blood and sucking in air as if she were going to summon the wrath of God in a bloodcurdling scream.

  Dan plucked her from JC’s back, wrapped his arm around her windpipe, and applied pressure. He felt her struggle…the beat of her heart…the anger of her movements…and the last shudders of her life. The choice was black-and-white, her life or theirs. This was reality.

  Laying her down, he noticed a small mark inside her arm. It was from the same group that Sandra had infiltrated, the group that had eventually killed her. Perhaps there was greater purpose to killing Ru’s w
oman—one member fewer of this well-known terrorist organization.

  Pulling the sash free from her white robe, Dan fashioned it into a rough-looking noose using ordinary knots, tied the end to the beam above Ru’s chair, and hoisted…as if this were a remorseful act. The scenario was plausible, though not very pretty.

  JC tapped his shoulder. They had to go.

  With everything in place, the men exited the house. Brock and Thomas emerged from the bushes as LT and the rest of the Team fell in behind, protecting their six.

  Swift steps moved the SEALs into the trees and back into the thick of the forest. The Team disappeared into the shadowy night, melting into the darkness like the ghosts they were.

  Chapter 5

  September 18, Coronado, California

  As Dan arrived back at NAS, the Naval Air Station North Island, the day was cold and dreary. The marine layer hid the sun, and he craved the warmth on his skin. Standing in the middle of Aria’s old apartment, he could barely believe how little she had gotten done. Guess it was up to him to wrangle this mess.

  Even on only a few hours of rest on the plane, his adrenaline was pumping joy juice through his bloodstream. He was married and they were moving into their first home. Putting his mind and body into hypergear, he moved like lightning, getting back to Aria’s apartment. He snuck in and gazed at his wife, peacefully sleeping. This place is a mess. There were half-packed open boxes and stacks of stuff everywhere. She had dark circles under eyes and there were files from work surrounding her on the couch. Let her sleep.

  Within two hours, he’d packed everything and had carried all the boxes out to the truck. The apartment looked bare, but it was good to go.

  “Dan?” Aria called. He walked in to find her stretching across the bed. Lord, was there anything sexier? “Where did all the boxes go? This place looks amazing.”