by Grady, D. R.
He gave the semblance of a shrug before something close to a wicked grin crossed his face. She’d seen a similar expression on KC and Ryan’s faces from time to time. That look spelled trouble.
“I only gave ... reference,” he lied. The admiral let out a bark of laughter. The two men grinned innocently at her.
“I hate you both,” she said gruffly, but couldn’t help the smile that lifted her lips.
Their guffaws lifted her unwelcome humor higher.
She and the Admiral were the only ones in the room with her patient at the moment, so she monitored him as they talked. Or in her case, as she scolded him. He didn’t appear to be any more apologetic for his actions than KC. Despite his being a problem-child, Janine was happy with his rapid progress.
Moving him had been very risky, but once the operative realized their intentions, he rallied round and fought to improve. He was prepped for surgery within hours, and she laid the ground work long before he actually entered the operating room.
She studied x-rays and ran so many tests she probably knew Michael Lamont’s body better than he did. Fortunately, he kept himself in excellent physical condition, and his body responded well to all she subjected it to.
“What about... work?” The admiral straightened and turned his attention to her when Michael asked the question.
Though he’d heal nicely, she wondered if he would be able to return to active duty. “I don’t know yet.” She studied him in an attempt to gauge his reaction.
Nothing. She didn’t see so much as a flicker of alarm, or excitement, or resentment. Just ... nothing. Frowning, she glanced at her former boss. He stared at the man in contemplative silence.
Since neither of them spoke, she decided to change the subject.
“Those guys did a great job with the bomb that blew you up. One of them is probably being toasted for your wounds, and the subsequent fact you’re dead.”
“Self-inflicted.” He grimaced as he tried to move to a more comfortable position.
She reared back and stared at him. “What?” The admiral looked as interested in the agent’s answer as she.
“I set...bomb. Killed ‘em...all... but didn’t get away...fast enough.”
“You set the bomb?” The admiral’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. Acute admiration and respect crossed his face.
Lazy satisfaction crossed her patient’s. He looked so much like KC and Ryan Janine had to resist the urge to stroke the hair from his forehead. “No one...should be alive...got ‘em all, but,” he began to cough, and Janine rushed forward to support him.
She placed a hand over the stitches on his abdomen, and winced as she thought about the pain coughing would cause. He sucked in a shuddering breath, but turned adamantly toward the admiral. “Traitor...in midst. After...Ben...SEAL team.” His voice, while weak, was fierce.
“Where did this occur?” O’Riley’s quiet voice sounded loud in the room.
“Terrorist installation... upper Pennsylvania...as suspected.” He began coughing again. She pressed her hand against him during the spell, fearful of his stitches.
“But you took out the installation?”
KC’s brother nodded. “Traitor...all...left.”
“We’ll take care of the traitor,” O’Riley promised. The cold, alert look she associated with military men who had survived the uglier side of life surged in his eyes.
Her patient nodded.
She swept her eyes over him, trying to determine if he’d done himself any harm with the coughing spells. She noticed abruptly that her hand was still curled over his rock hard abdomen. Possessively, in fact.
Using more self-control than she should have needed, Janine calmly removed her hand from Michael’s stomach, rather than wrenching it away, as her instincts cried for her to do. But that would draw attention and could hurt him, so she forced herself to be calm, despite the fact she wasn’t experiencing that emotion at the moment.
Where had such a feeling come from? This possessive, proprietary one she had never experienced before? She’d operated on thousands of men, and had never once felt this way about any of them. Swallowing, she turned away as the admiral questioned Michael more. She didn’t doubt their leader would have all the information he needed by the time they finished their “discussion”. Nor did she doubt who would be called up to assist in taking the traitor down.
While one part of her howled at the fact Ben would have to go, the other, more rational part explained that her brother was fully trained for this type of duty and his team was top of the pack. Besides, she’d just faked a man’s death and then operated on him, after spending seven hours in the operating room already.
Then there was the fact she knew things that could get her and many others killed. Then there was the information she didn’t know she knew that could also get her killed. Either way, her retirement could become pretty hair-raising, if not outright spectacular.
Therefore she realized she had no cause to complain about her brother’s dangerous job. Besides, Treeny would be the one who had to deal with his erratic schedule and peril more than Janine. Bless the woman who chose a military man to love. Especially a military man like Ben. One who loved his job and possessed the skills to validate that love.
For some reason her eyes slid to the man occupying the only bed in the room.
Chapter 18
Treeny floated through work, eager for the day to be done so she could see Ben. He’d hinted at a picnic. Plus, they agreed to visit the lake for the weekend. She approved of that notion.
She had recently bought and settled on a cabin there, and was eager to open the place up. The cottage would be the first home she ever owned, and she was excited to see what she could do about fixing up the space to make it personal.
Like the others who owned homes there, she figured she would probably rent the cottage out during the time she didn’t plan to be at the lake. That way, it could pay for itself. She waited to buy until she found something she really liked.
The cabin was smaller than she wanted, but the layout suited her and depending on who moved into the identical place beside hers, she might be able to expand.
Rachel made her some throw rugs, and Treeny had spent a few years hoarding furniture for just this occasion. In the back of her mind, she figured she must have been thinking of buying a lake home.
Glancing at the electronic patient chart on her way into the room, Treeny tried to concentrate on her work. Today was fairly routine and she feared she was functioning on auto pilot. Ben and the lake occupied her every thought. Maybe she’d make him some homemade ice-cream. Mmmm, and then she could kiss the treat off his lips. She fanned herself with the chart.
When she entered the room, she greeted her patient, sincerely hoping the middle-aged man didn’t think her heated self was due to anything other than overwork. Blast these racy thoughts that kept interfering with her job. She’d make Ben pay for his utter sexiness when she got him alone tonight.
Her temperature rose again, and she suppressed the urge to groan. Wrapping her brain around her work today was especially difficult. How she wanted to be with Ben.
“Look, I understand she doesn’t usually take calls while she’s with a patient, but she’ll want to take this one.” Ben raked a hand over his hair as he yet again tried to reason with the SEAL-trainer-in-hiding on the other end of the phone. “Look, just go ask her if she’d like to speak with me, okay?”
Struggling to make this woman understand was enough to make him lose his cool. He spoke eight languages, commanded an elite, Special Ops team and could operate any vehicle made. Including the Space Shuttle. Yet trying to make this Mrs. Mays understand that Treeny would kill him if he didn’t speak with her seemed beyond his abilities.
He thought and discarded the notion of sneaking into the place to speak with her. While he could slip in and out without being noticed, he’d probably scare Treeny, and her patient.
“I’m sorry sir, but we cannot allow patients to spe
ak with the doctor until the doctor is available.”
Gritting his teeth, Ben said, “I’m not a patient. I’m family and this is an emergency.” He didn’t glance at the clock. He was already pushing the time to leave. Fortunately, he’d learned to keep a bag packed and ready, but it wouldn’t do for the commander to be late.
“Well why didn’t you say that?” she huffed and then put him on hold.
Ben took a deep breath. And another, and another. He wasn’t about to lose his cool.
“Ben?” Treeny’s voice came over the line. She sounded worried.
“Hey, baby, I’m sorry to call you at work.”
“It’s fine. Mrs. Mays said this call is an emergency?”
“Treeny, I’m going wheels up. I have to go.” Even he heard the regret in his voice. Or maybe he just felt it in his heart, but he needed to leave. This was his job. She would have to understand. But did she?
Admiral O’Riley hadn’t given him details, but he thought this was connected to Michael Lamont and the traitor who was gunning for his team. His team could find the traitor. And they would.
She breathed, said something inane, but he heard her tears.
“I’m sorry, Treeny,” he whispered. He shouldn’t have even made this call, but he couldn’t leave again without her knowing, from him, that he was going.
“I know you are. I am too. I was looking forward to this weekend, but there will be others, right?” He hated the note of despair in her voice.
“Of course. Count on it.” He offered her all the reassurance he himself needed.
“Okay. I can live with your leaving so long as I know you’re coming home to me.” The impression that she was distancing herself hit him like whiplash. Please don’t distance yourself, he pleaded silently. There was no way to alter it right now, though.
“I’m coming home to you, Treeny. Definitely.” He put everything he had into the conviction he felt ring in his voice.
“I’ll be waiting.”
“Lieutenant Ben Morrison reporting,” Ben told the woman seated behind the desk in front of Admiral Rich O’Riley’s office.
“He’s expecting you. Go in, Lieutenant.”
Ben found the rest of his squad assembled when he seated himself at the last place around the table.
“Thank you for coming,” the admiral began. “The reason I called you in is because you’re all in danger.” Ben sat up a little straighter and narrowed his eyes. He saw his men do the same.
“Our source, a special operative, one of the very best we’ve ever had, was killed on Friday. The terrorist group my dead agent sought to quiet is now gone. He accomplished his mission before he died.”
Rich O’Riley looked around the silent, attentive room. “Before he died, the man explained a traitor was in our midst. He also gave me the name of a SEAL team who is at risk by this traitor.”
Ben took a deep breath, because even though he figured what was coming, it was still going to need to be cleaned up. Thanks to Janine, he’d at least been given prior warning.
“This team, Team Eight, particularly your squad, is likely to be betrayed by the same traitor who killed my agent.”
“Sir, do we know this operative?” his second-in-command asked.
“You do, Beaumont, but for now I’d like to keep his death quiet.”
Nods went round the table.
“If the operative is the same man we’re thinking about, he’d be a hard man to kill,” Lanford said.
Ben appreciated the sadness he saw among his men. A sorrow he himself felt. Each of them was trained for death, and they understood losing their lives was a definite job hazard, but none of them easily accepted a fallen man’s death.
“All of the operatives we’ve worked with were good men,” Cox, another member of the team, said quietly. The other team members nodded again.
“Yes, and this man was one of my best.” O’Riley puffed out a frustrated breath. “As only the very best can do, he still finished the job before he died. And he warned me about the danger your team could be in. That’s serious dedication.”
“Sounds like he was an overachiever,” Shively, their comedian, piped in, making it sound like that was bad, and the tension in the room eased as a quiet wave of laughter lapped through the room.
Admiral O’Riley grinned. “That’s a trait each of you can also claim. But right now, I’m going to do everything I can to keep the rest of you alive. Losing him was a big enough loss. We can’t afford to lose another man.”
Suppressing a shiver as he thought about the consequences of losing even one member of his team, Ben thought of his swim buddy. Forced to retire because of a bout with cancer, Welby had gone on to other things, but Ben still missed his input.
“Do we know who the traitor is?” Ben stared at O’Riley. Had KC’s brother known his betrayer’s name?
“Unfortunately, my operative didn’t know. He suspected a few people, though, and I have those names. We’re running them through a database now. Trying to ascertain innocence or guilt,” Admiral O’Riley said, exuding such an aura of authority the power was almost visible.
“We’re gonna get him, Admiral,” Lanford, the quietest man on the team, said. His air of intensity was nearly as potent as their leader’s.
The admiral turned an approving look on Lanford. “That we are, Lanford. That we are.” He said the statement in such a way Ben figured Rich O’Riley would work at finding the traitor until he retired, which would probably be when he died. Finding the traitor had become the number one priority.
“What’s the plan?” Ben asked.
“We haven’t formulated one yet. Until we have a better idea of who our traitor is, we won’t be able to move on this. I wanted to call you men in today to inform you of the potential risk. I want you to leave here and act normally, but be on guard.”
“But we get first crack at this traitor?” Freemont asked. He looked fierce and Ben was grateful for the excellent team who had his back.
“You’re the first we call. Once we have a plan.”
Ben had a thought and sat up abruptly. “Sir, if I may offer a suggestion?”
“Of course, Lieutenant,” the admiral stared him down.
“Since we need a plan, and something to throw our traitor off for a while?”
“Yes? You got something in mind, Morrison?”
“Yeah. I think we should call Welby out of retirement.”
The admiral and several of the team who knew his former swim buddy chuckled. “Morrison, that’s the best plan I’ve heard all day.”
“What’s so great about Welby?” Riesen, one of the new guys, asked.
“Excuse his ignorance, Admiral, he obviously doesn’t know Welby,” Shively said with a snicker.
“That’s okay, Riesen. If you have planning to do, if you have any thinking to do, you want Sam Welby on your team. Not only will he come up with the best plan for the job, he’ll also have thought out all logistic problems, plotted out every strategy for both sides—”
“And he’ll do all that in a matter of an hour or two. He’s also an authority on this terrorist group,” Ben finished. The admiral and all the men who knew Sam grinned.
“This guy retired?” Riesen asked dubiously.
“He was diagnosed with cancer our third year in. Aggressive cancer.” Ben remembered the despair and sadness and anger the team had felt when one of their own had been diagnosed with the deadly disease. Never had he been so helpless. It wasn’t an experience Ben planned to repeat.
“Not only did he defeat the cancer, but he also decided to go to medical school at the same time,” Admiral O’Riley said.
“He didn’t trust the doctors – he decided to formulate his own treatment,” Ben remarked with a grin. Several of the men chuckled.
“Welby trust anyone else’s plan? Not happening,” Beaumont said with a laugh.
“He’s a doctor?” Lessay, the last of the team and also a newbie asked.
Ben nodded. “A pediatri
cian.”
“He’s built up one of the foremost pediatric oncology care offices on the east coast, if not the country,” Admiral O’Riley explained.
“He left SEAL Team Eight seven years ago,” Beaumont added.
“He graduated top of his class from medical school, and from the oncology and pediatric trainings, and then built his practice.” Ben heard the pride in his voice for his swim buddy.
“Morrison had it pretty easy during BUDs,” Shively said using his chin to indicate Ben.
“Yeah, Welby carried him and the rest of us through training,” Cox added and they all shared a grin.
“Is this guy, after being gone for seven years, going to be able to keep up?” Riesen asked.
This ridiculous statement created snorts and exclamations of disbelief. “Keep up?” Ben repeated.
“Keep up? Son, Welby could and will run circles around all of you,” the admiral said in faint reprimand.
When Riesen still looked a bit skeptical, Ben added, “Welby’s continued his training. He did so while receiving chemo. Some days he could barely walk, but he still finished PT.”
“Some days we tried to talk him out of PT. But not Welby. He dragged himself through it,” Beaumont said.
“We ended up having to carry him only twice I can remember,” Lanford added.
“Yeah. His next to last dose and final dose of the chemo. He collapsed. Otherwise, he pushed himself. The doctors believe that’s what saved him,” Ben remarked, remembering how incredulous he was over his friend’s perseverance.
“Sam Welby was a SEAL before he ever entered training, and he’s a SEAL now, seven years after he left the military,” Admiral O’Riley stated and Ben and the others who knew his swim buddy agreed.
“Definitely. With Welby on our side, we’re gonna kick some traitor booty,” Ben said, and not in jest, either.
Chapter 19
Treeny finished the last of her paperwork. With no Ben this weekend, she didn’t feel much like going home. Pete was there, but she’d probably be playing with Rachel’s kids, so she wasn’t much of a lure. Instead, Treeny had looked over the growing stack of paperwork after her last patient, and figured she could clear her desk.