Doc, his dark auburn hair damp around his face, manned the large double-layered grill, long-handled tongs in one hand and a beer in the other. His black t-shirt sported the image of a large bull seal and the logo SEALs Do It On The Beach. “Hey, Zoe. Want a beer?” he called out as she wandered toward the cluster of wives and girlfriends sitting near the pool.
“How about a soft drink?”
He pointed at one of the coolers. “Help yourself.”
Trish Marks waved from her seat. The high-pitched squeals of the children splashing in the pool traveled to her, making her jittery. The hodge-podge of lawn furniture beckoned. Maybe if she sat down she’d feel better. She chose a soft drink from the cooler and crossed the patio. Just as she reached Trish, the wind shifted, shoving the scent of grilling meat at her. Zoe clamped her hand over her mouth as the urge to gag rose. Bathroom—Lord, she needed a bathroom. Now!
Trish frowned in concern, and scrambled out of her chair. She half pushed, half guided Zoe toward a door.
The gray rug beneath her feet was the only thing Zoe saw as she fought to hold back the wave of bile. The sight of the white porcelain commode was a relief. Falling to her knees, she heaved and heaved until there was nothing left in her stomach.
Trish held a cold, wet cloth against her forehead when the urge eased and shoved the handle down, flushing away the evidence. “I’ll go get Hawk.”
Zoe grasped her wrist. “No, it’s passing—I think.”
“I can drive you home so you can lie down,” Trish offered.
Zoe shook her head. The movement stirred the nausea again, and she stopped. She braced an arm across the commode seat and rested her forehead on it. “I’m not contagious,” her voice sounded hollow as it bounced around the toilet bowl.
Silence filled the small space. Zoe tilted her head back to look up into Trish’s freckled face. The woman’s blue gaze held hers, a silent question lying heavy between them, until Trish drew a deep breath and voiced it. “Are you pregnant?’
CHAPTER 11
“Yes. I’m pregnant.” Just saying the word somehow made it more real. “I haven’t told Hawk yet. They have that training thing coming up next week, and you know how he is.”
“Oh, Zoe.” Trish’s smile held joy and understanding. She bent to give her a hug.
“Look, I know you don’t hold anything back from Langley, but please don’t say anything to him.” Zoe forced a smile to her lips, though the urge to weep rose strong. “They may be good at keeping national secrets, but I don’t think family stuff counts. And as close as he and Hawk are—”
Trish laughed. “Hawk will be so thrilled.”
Zoe bit her lip. Would he? They had talked marriage, but hadn’t settled on anything. “I hope so. This wasn’t exactly planned.”
Trish shrugged. “Sometimes it happens that way.”
“You’re the only one who knows. I haven’t even told Mom or Brett. I’ve been building up my nerve to tackle Hawk first. He worries about me, and I don’t want him to be distracted while he’s training.”
Trish knelt and brushed the damp curls away from Zoe’s face. “He’s tough. He can handle this. He’ll need time to process it and accept it before … ”
Before their next training run. Before their next deployment. Before they risk their lives again.
Zoe’s vision blurred, and though her queasiness hadn’t quite dissipated, she forced herself to her feet instead of giving into it, or the tears. “I’m good now. Any suggestions for how to deal with morning sickness, or in my case anytime sickness?”
“Crackers, crackers, and more crackers. And potato chips. The salt seems to do something for it. And lemonade.”
“Okay.” She gave a nod. “There has to be crackers or potato chips out there somewhere. Do you think Doc would be insulted if I looked in his medicine cabinet for toothpaste?”
Trish laughed. “I don’t think he’d mind at all.”
Zoe opened the medicine cabinet in search of toothpaste, and, finding a tube, squirted some onto her finger to brush her teeth. The taste of mint seemed to sooth her upset stomach. Turning on the water, she rinsed her mouth and spat, then shut the tap off. “Let’s go find something salty.”
***
Brett’s hand rested against Tess’s waist as he guided her along the sidewalk that meandered around the apartment complex. His mother walked ahead, the strap of her camera bag thrown over her shoulder. The bag wallowed against her hip as she moved, too heavy to bounce. The two women seemed to have hit it off. No surprise, his mom got along with just about everyone. But something was off with her. She’d been quiet. Kind of distracted. And she’d gone out and spent a shitload of money on camera equipment. What was up with that?
The elusive scent Tess wore teased him once again. It wasn’t floral, but something citrus. The delicate curve of her cheek, the soft, pouty shape of her lips, and those warm, sherry-colored eyes just … did it for him. The curve of her waist fit his hand as though made for him. Her long legs, bared by shorts, stretched pale and smooth. He‘d start at the small knob of bone at her ankle and work his way all the way—Hold on. Can’t go there. But, Jesus, he wanted to.
After all this shit ended, he’d be after her like a bird dog scenting quail. He had trouble suppressing a grin. Like Romeo after Juliet. It would probably shock the shit out of her to know a military guy could be romantic. He’d show her. Would she go for a guy who did do the hearts and flowers thing?
“Cutter.” Bowie’s shout reached him almost before he’d made it around the corner of the apartment building. Bowie paused long enough to hug Clara before moving on to extend his hand. Brett clasped it and bumped shoulders with him.
“You’re missed, man,” Bowie said, pounding him on the back hard enough to hurt.
“Thanks. I haven’t missed your sorry ass at all,” Brett said.
Bowie laughed and turned his attention to Tess. Brett had seen that wolfish grin and flash of dimples before. He sent a narrow-eyed look of warning at his teammate and received a smirk in return.
“Tess, this is Ensign Dan Rivera.”
“Everyone calls me Bowie,” Rivera said, offering his hand.
“Is that a call sign?” Tess asked as she accepted his grip and shook briefly.
“Yes.”
“So you’re nicknamed after a knife?”
“Sort of. Mostly after Jim Bowie who fought at the Alamo. I’m from Texas.”
“I recognized the accent.”
A small crease of concentration appeared between Tess’s brows. She was already in observation mode as she looked up at Brett. “And your call sign is Cutter?”
“Yeah.” Every part of his training could make him a murderer in her eyes, but avoiding her question would only make her suspicious. “I’m good with sharp weapons, particularly knives.”
“Oh.” Her lips pursed on the word. “You’ll have to demonstrate for me sometime.”
His brows rose. “If you like.”
Would that be part of the story she wanted to write? It would be a distinctive detail that could identify him. He’d have to talk to her about keeping his part in all this anonymous. Jesus, this whole thing was like tiptoeing through a minefield. One wrong move or word and he’d be eating his discharge papers.
His gaze scanned the players involved in the volleyball game. Hawk, Langley Marks, Oliver Shaker, and Doc’s neighbor Seaman Jeff Sizemore comprised one team. The other was made up of Bowie, Doc’s neighbor, Seaman Carl Tanner, and the two new guys in the team, Seamen Jack Logan and Kelsey Tyler. Brett threw up a hand in recognition as Jack Logan called to him. Logan and Tyler had filled Flash and Derrick’s places. His own spot was still open, but that could change at any time.
The thought scared him more than the threat of being arrested. This was what he was supposed to be. Sure, he had a backup plan, but if he had a record or a dishonorable hanging over him, what the fuck kind of life could he be looking at?
He caught Hawk’s frown as he noticed Tes
s standing beside him. It was already too late. He’d invited her right into the heart of the team. He just hoped to hell he could show her they were all just people, living their lives. Raising their families. But they were professionals, too. Not killers.
“Come meet the ladies,” he suggested.
“Sure.”
Clara, having gone ahead of them, stepped back from giving Zoe a hug.
“Tess this is my sister, Zoe.”
“Nice to meet you.” Tess offered Zoe a nod and a smile.
“You, too.”
Brett went around the circle of eight ladies introducing the other men’s girlfriends and wives.
“I got word from the hospital this morning,” Zoe said. “I got the job.”
“I knew you would,” Brett said. He tugged her close and gave her a hug.
Zoe leaned into his side. “I start next Monday.”
“I’m sure Hawk’s pleased.”
“Yes. He was talking about how much it would cost to start my own clinic if the hospital job didn’t come through.”
“You’re not a doctor?” Tess asked.
Zoe laughed. “No. But there are times I feel as though I’ve had enough experience and education to be. I’m a physical therapist. I’ll be working with patients with debilitating injuries or amputations.”
“That sounds challenging,” Tess commented.
“It will be, but I’m up for it. It’s been a long two days waiting for the news. It was a tough interview, too.”
“I’m sure. Obviously you did well.”
“Why don’t the two of you sit down,” Clara said. “I’ll get us some drinks.”
“I’ll get them, Mom.” Brett waved her to a seat. “Orders, ladies?”
With a mental tally of everything they wanted, he wandered off to the cooler and paused at Doc’s side to slap him on the back. “What’s happening?”
“Almost through here. We’ll be eating any minute now.” Doc’s green gaze appeared more serious than his words. “NCIS was on post asking questions about you and Derrick today.”
Brett’s stomach dropped. “Shit. I was expecting it, but still.”
“These guys really have a hard-on for you both.”
“I know.”
“What are you going to do about it, Cutter?”
“Since they’re not willing to look beyond the send of their noses, I have a plan.”
“Such as?”
“You know that phrase we hear sometimes, ‘plausible deniability?’”
“Yeah.”
“Well, this applies. The less you know, the less they can ask you when the dust settles.”
Doc’s expression grew grave. “They can’t charge you with anything if there’s no evidence, Cutter.”
“They’re going with the idea that the lack of evidence points to us having done away with the kid, Doc. I’ve done a lot of things in the line of duty, but cold blooded murder isn’t one of them.”
Doc presented a fist and they knocked knuckles.
“Who’s the legs?” Doc asked, tipping his beer in the women’s direction.
Brett grinned. “Tess Kelly. She’s a reporter for the San Diego Tribune.”
Doc stepped back and eyed him, his amazement clear. “Is she part of your plan?”
“A very small part. She’s here as my date with the understanding that this is a family barbecue and off limits to the press.”
“And you trust her?” Doc said as his brows rose.
“No, not entirely. But then she probably has bigger balls than you or I do.”
“Why’s that?”
“Would you go out with someone suspected of murder?”
Doc’s features hardened. “You haven’t been charged. You’re not going to be charged.”
If only he could be sure. “You know that itch you get between your shoulder blades when you know someone has a bead on you?”
“Yeah, I know it well. It’s saved my life more than once.”
“I’ve had that itch ever since NCIS showed up in Jackson’s office.” He slapped Doc on the back. “Got to get drinks for the ladies.” He opened the cooler and dug in to retrieve a couple of beers and several soft drinks. “Thanks for having my back, Doc.”
“Always, Bro.”
But the thought he’d just voiced to Doc set a niggling worry crawling through his gut. How far would Tess go for a story?
***
Tess stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles. She couldn’t say that the SEALs and their families weren’t capable of feeding an army, or a navy as the case might be. She’d definitely eaten far more than she needed. They didn’t lack for social graces, either. The conversation had run the gamut from movies they’d seen to the best techniques for surfing. Something Logan and Tyler, the newest members of the SEAL team, seemed enthused about.
The two ‘new guys’ left after eating to catch a few waves before sundown.
Clara moved around the crowd taking candid shots of the men and their dates and the children. The kids hammed it up for her.
“Is your mom a photographer?”
“No, a retired school teacher. She showed up at the apartment with all that camera equipment this afternoon.” He shook his head, clearly baffled.
“If she’s just retired, maybe she’s looking to remake herself. Madonna’s done it.”
Brett flashed her a smile. “If she starts wearing skin tight leotards with cones over her breasts, I’m calling an ambulance.”
Tess laughed. “She may be good at this. Up until now she’s probably lived her job to provide for her family. Most single parents do.”
“I guess you’re right. She shouldered all the responsibility after Dad died. And with Zoe’s condition, that wasn’t easy. After that, she helped us all with college. Then my sister with her kids. She’s like the Pied Piper with children.”
Clara said something to Doc. Then she and the children went into his apartment.
“Told you. They’ll follow her anywhere.”
What would he do if something happened to end his career?
“What are you going to do when you retire from the teams?”
“Most of the guys go into some sort of security work because of the training. I have an engineering master’s from University of Kentucky. I’ll dust that off and go back to school and see what happens.”
An engineer. He could have made a fortune working for private corporations. “With an engineering degree, you could have worked anywhere. Why the SEALs?”
“I wanted to serve my country. Most of the officers have college degrees of some sort. Even most of the non-commissioned have college hours. We’re not just guys toting guns. There’s more to the training than that.”
She leaned back to digest everything he’d said while idly watching Zoe and Hawk’s progress around the patio as they swayed to the music. With the back of her leg completely exposed, the extent of Zoe’s injuries was open for anyone to see. Nearly half the calf muscle was gone. Scars from skin grafts patch-worked up both legs to disappear beneath her shorts. Tess flinched away from the sight.
“If she catches you looking at her with any kind of pity, she’ll verbally kick your ass,” Brett said from beside her. He shifted in his seat to stretch his long legs out.
“I wasn’t staring out of morbid curiosity. It’s just—” She swallowed to clear the knot from her throat. “She’s beautiful, and it hurts to see that marred in such a brutal way.”
“Yeah. It does.” He focused on the soft drink he’d been nursing nearly half an hour. “A drunk driver came through our subdivision. It was summer and there were kids out all over our street riding their bikes. He managed to miss all of them, until he passed out at the wheel and hit Zoe. She was all tangled up with the bike.” He flinched and closed his eyes as though the memory was still too fresh to think about “She was in the hospital for months. It took nearly a year for her to learn to walk again.”
“And the guy who hit her?”
“
He was an habitual drunk driver. He got ten years, but he died of liver cancer before he served five.”
“At least he can’t hurt anyone else.”
He nodded. “There is that. She’s good now. There have been some rough patches for her. Girls being petty bitches in high school. Guys being assholes in college. She and Hawk are good together.”
Her gaze wandered to the couple. Hawk rested his chin against Zoe’s hair and she nestled against him. He spoke close against her ear and she tilted her head back to look up at him. The smile she offered him was so open, so intimate, Tess looked away.
“It’s pretty clear they’re crazy about each other,” Brett said.
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“If she’d hooked up with any other guy on the team, I’d have had to step in. But Hawk’s solid.”
He was also intimidating as hell, even from a distance. He’d been cordial enough at dinner, but watchful. And he hadn’t wasted any time in steering Zoe away from her. What was he afraid of? Zoe wouldn’t know any SEAL secrets. But she had been a witness to, and a victim of, Derrick Armstrong’s meltdown.
The last vestige of sunlight dipped beneath the waves, and the evening air began to cool. Doc switched on the pool lights, and the exterior lights came on with them.
Her attention shifted to Doc’s neighbors. Carl Turner and Jeff Sizemore lounged around the pool with their girlfriends, talking with Ensign Shaker and his wife Selena. Their nine-month-old was passed around and rocked by the women while they visited.
For a moment she dwelt on the connection these people had to one another. They were like an extended family, and a support system for each other.
Despite his earlier flirtatious smiles, Bowie and his date, Angela Melzonni, seemed deep in like as they sat close together on the edge of the pool holding hands. Doc slouched in a lawn chair talking with them.
“You seemed to know Angela well.” She tried to ignore the stab of jealousy she had no right to feel, and to sound impartial as she asked, “An old girlfriend?”
Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 10