Tucker took hold of her hand, and before she could give a snappy retort, he pulled her down a narrow path through lush foliage about ten feet behind Christy.
“So one of the ladies in the office listed this just this morning, but it hasn’t been put on MLS yet. We’re the first to see it.” Christy beamed. “Now prepare yourself, because I’ve been told it’s a little plain, nothing done to it in like sixty years. It might be pretty bad. I suspected so when Danielle told me the listing price. Don’t be mad, okay?”
“But geez, Christy, it’s nearly a million dollars,” gasped Tucker.
“But we’re totally cool with it,” said Brandy. “Thanks for thinking of us.”
“Is it vacant?” asked Tucker.
“The owner has been living in a rest home for over twenty years. Family members have kept the jungle at bay and, I think, kept the house clean. But all his things are supposedly still in there. He never got to go back home.”
Brandy felt sad for the owner.
“I know it’s at the upper limits of your price range. I just hope that the work it needs doesn’t blow it out of the park,” Christy continued and then opened the front door.
It felt like they’d just stepped back in time about forty years. The kitchen had real wood cabinets—knotty pine—with vinyl countertops trimmed in stainless steel edging. Brandy felt instantly in love with the charm. As she walked down the hall and heard the hardwood floors squeak, she giggled. “I love that sound!”
Tucker and Christy exchanged glances.
The bathrooms were lined in blue and black four-inch tiles, trimmed in diamond-shaped edging pieces with art deco designs. One bath had a real porcelain tub and an etched glass medicine cabinet like the one Brandy remembered from her grandmother’s home. The other bathroom, the master, was totally tiled in the same blue and black colors, but with a tiny stall shower and a doorway barely large enough for Tucker to step in.
“We’ll get a bid on what it would cost to remodel these. This will never work for you guys,” said Christy.
“So if there are two bedrooms downstairs, including the master, what’s upstairs?”
Christy’s eyes sparkled. “Just wait. Now be careful.”
The stairway was way too narrow but passable. At the top landing they came upon a great room the size of the house footprint with wall-to-wall model trains. It was a replica of a tiny village, complete with a main street of Victorian houses, a post office, and several stores that looked like they were from the early nineteen hundreds.
“This is amazing,” whistled Tucker.
“His daughter told their Realtor that he was a member of several model train clubs. This village, of course, doesn’t go with the house. It’s being left to the heirs and probably will go in a train museum somewhere. But isn’t it fun?”
“What would you put up here?” asked Brandy.
“A gym,” said Tucker.
“A new master suite with nursery?” Christy added.
“We could convert it to a separate unit, Tucker. Make it into a duplex. We’d have to add a kitchen and bathroom, add outside stairs, but what do you think?”
Christy interrupted her. “Great idea. I’m not sure the zoning will allow it but definitely worth asking.”
Tucker was focusing on the detail of the village, studying the miniature locomotive and cars. “If I ever brought Coop here, he’d never leave,” he mumbled.
Brandy walked along the four walls, since the stairway came up through the middle of the room. She noticed the ring of windows, which would let in sunlight all day long. “I could paint here. Tucker, you could write.” Brandy’s voice trailed off softly as she luxuriated in the visualizations coming at her so fast it was hard to remember them all.
Christy turned and faced Tucker. “You write?”
He shrugged without answering. He rolled his right shoulder and searched the room as if he were looking for a vacant desk. “I’ve been keeping a journal, but yes, thought I’d tell some tall tales of danger, adventure, and valor.” He rolled his eyes and winked at Christy.
“I think that’s really cool,” said Christy. “Good for you.”
“And not a word to Kyle, either. They’d tease me to hell and back.”
“Your secret is safe with me. A hobby room, then, is it?” said Christy.
“That’s it.”
“You think they’d allow some seller financing?” Brandy asked. “I don’t want to use up all Dad’s money and not have anything left for the remodel this would require.”
“I can ask,” said Christy. “But if you’re interested, we’d have to jump on it right away. Good news for you is that you’ve already sold your father’s home, so you can be a non-contingent sale. With fifty percent down, you qualify for a four hundred-thousand-dollar loan, right?”
“Yes,” answered Brandy. She was trying to get Tucker’s attention.
“What do you think, Tuck?” asked Christy.
“You know we’re leaving day after tomorrow, right?” he mumbled, still focusing on the model trains.
“Yes. That will present some problems, but I think we can work it out, if you like the house. There are only a handful of houses on Coronado under a million—I think less than five. There might be multiple offers if you wait too long.”
Brandy hung on every movement Tucker made. Her mind was filling with ideas. She thought about removing some of the shrubbery in front and expanding the yard space, since the lot was so small compared to the surrounding homes. After a few silent minutes, she noted Tucker wasn’t making eye contact.
She waited until he looked up at her. His eyes betrayed something he was trying to hide. At last a smile drew across his face. “You always grab the first thing that comes along?” he whispered, following it with a little smirk. He was too damn sexy for his own good.
“I know a good thing when I see one,” she replied. “And, yes I go for it. I grab it and never let go.”
Chapter 5
Team 3 gathered in their building on base so the mission could be explained. They were scheduled to leave at Zero-Four-Hundred the next morning for their mission to the Canary Islands off the western coast of Africa.
Tucker’s bags were already packed at home. He settled between Coop and DeWayne Huggles, their language specialist from Mississippi.
Kyle began the presentation before he turned the floor over to the young State Department Special Agent, who would be accompanying their group. Kelly Fielding looked like she had just graduated from high school, but Kyle told them she’d already worked in Africa for nearly eight years and had a master’s in International Relations with an emphasis on the African continent. He also told them she was fluent in about a dozen languages.
Huggles swore under his breath. “This is going to be fucked.”
Tucker knew many of the men already started out with a bias against the “brains” in the State Department who often overruled action with diplomacy. But when their lead was a woman, as well, it made for a double strike. He knew the SEALs weren’t necessarily there to fix the problem but to get everyone out safely when it became one.
Tucker whispered back, “Give her a chance, man.”
Huggles’ eyebrows nearly got lost in his scalp, his eyes wide with feigned shock.
When Kelly began to speak, half the back row barked that they couldn’t hear her voice, so she repeated her introduction much louder than her normal timbre, and it made her face turn red from the stress. She was probably nervous as hell, Tucker thought.
The problem with doing missions when females were on hand was that half the younger men would need to have everything explained to them all over again, since the sight of such a beautiful, red-headed peach-skinned creature made their brains malfunction. It was simply a lack of blood to the right organ, having been diverted elsewhere.
Tucker wasn’t worried for himself, even though he could admit she was attractive as hell. It was the violation of their Team building, their private space, that worried hi
m the most. It rarely happened, so this was a big deal, according to his superiors. He was used to the cold smell of firepower, explosives, and metal, not the exotic floral scent of her perfume. It somehow diluted the man-cave, tradition and, besides that, felt all wrong.
“Thank you, Chief Lansdowne,” she began. She took a moment to scan the room, making eye contact with everyone sitting before her.
Kyle took his seat in the front row and crossed his legs.
“I’m familiar with this group who managed to smuggle Jenna out of Nigeria. And I also know her family,” began Agent Fielding. “Her father’s a well-known philanthropist in the Northwest. Although this is a joint State and Special Forces operation, we’ve been authorized to let you know no expense will be spared. We believe she has been trafficked, and the group perhaps does not know about her famous and very wealthy family. We want to keep it that way.”
Tucker didn’t like the idea that special treatment would be happening, which was just another way of saying he and all the other team guys were more at risk than usual. Secrets were never good. They always cost lives of the “little” people.
“It looks like she was sold to a Dutch billionaire who does a fair amount of business with the raiding Nigerian militant gangs. He gets drugs and conflict diamonds from them and, in exchange, sells the militants guns. He’s been on the State Department’s radar for about three years now. Much of his business is disguised as building roads and wind generators, which he claims he doesn’t do for profit. We know otherwise, of course. There have been rumors he’s begun to dip his toe into the lucrative human trafficking business.”
As the agent continued, her voice got lower, and she became laser-focused on identifying pictures of various characters projected on the wall of their buildings, explaining who the organization was and how it operated.
In the lull after her presentation, Cooper asked, “So where is this place where they’re holding her, or do you know?”
“Oh, we know,” Agent Fielding answered. She threw up another slide of an enormous white building that looked more like a commercial lab than a residence. It was heavily fortified, a regular fortress guarded by roughly one hundred men, she told them.
Kyle uncrossed his legs and sat up straight. “The militia groups may not know who her father is, but what’s the chance this billionaire slave trader doesn’t know?” he asked.
“Well, the State Department has not allowed him to obtain a US visa. Most of his trade is with Europe, United Kingdom, and South America. I’d say of all the countries of the world; he knows least about the US. But it’s always possible, Chief.”
“So what’s the plan for getting into the compound?” asked a heavily-accented voice from the rear. Tucker recognized him immediately. Several other SEALs turned around to confirm Sven Tolar had indeed made it to San Diego, and, apparently, would be tagging along.
That was great news.
The agent deferred to their LPO for the tactical details. But while Kyle explained his plan, Tucker noticed the room’s energy, with the addition of Sven to the Team, had suddenly exploded in chatter and crosstalk. One by one, members shook Sven’s hand and then stood next to him in a group while they listened. For the first time, Tucker was filled with happy anticipation. He turned to the frowning Huggles.
“What do you know? I actually think we have a chance here.”
After the meeting, Tucker greeted several men he hadn’t seen in months, as well as Sven Tolar, the retired Norwegian Specialist they’d met on the previous mission to Nigeria. Although he didn’t know Sven back then, he remembered their grueling joint training operations back some ten years or more. Tucker always had a great deal of admiration for these men, considering them to be the best-trained team in survival tactics, no matter the weather. They’d been legendary for fighting the Nazis, the Russians and anyone else who thought they could defeat their much smaller numbers. Tucker had learned they could live in snow caves virtually undetected for months at a time.
“What a huge surprise and a boon for us all,” Tucker said as they briefly embraced.
“I said I’d look you up.”
“Well, damn, didn’t know it would be this way. Nonetheless, glad to have you aboard. Are you part of the intel here?”
“Nope. Just a private contractor. I guess I got listed on some asset sheet,” Sven added.
Tucker knew that was probably Kyle’s doing. Kyle had extensive files and contact information on good men they’d worked with in the past outside the SEAL community.
“How’s your friend?” Sven spoke softly. “I don’t see him here.”
Tucker took a deep breath at the mention of Brawley. “Nah, he’s retired. Going to begin being a BUD/S instructor until he can get his twenty in.” He looked down at his feet and then up to connect with Sven’s deep penetrating eyes. “It was a close one.”
“I’ll say it was. We’ve lost a few too. They would just walk off into the forest, and we never see them again.”
It broke Tucker’s heart to hear of a warrior, a man of action who chose to end his life. Suicides were on the rise in the military, even on the Teams.
“I guess we can’t save them all,” Tucker whispered.
Several other men joined their circle, ending the conversation. Tucker said his farewells and headed for home.
His happy mood had turned, and he wondered about that. It was a good thing that they’d have Sven’s help. This wasn’t going to be the kind of deployment that would be months long. They were to go in, grab the nurse, and get out. So why was he so blue all of a sudden?
Tucker thought about the house they were trying to buy, and how happy Brandy had been when they found out their offer had been accepted. But he wondered if it all was too soon. Should he take one step at a time? Should they have the baby first, learn how to be good parents, then take on the financial responsibility of the house payments? Being a SEAL was more rewarding than being a regular Navy guy, but he still didn’t make nearly enough money to own a close to million-dollar house. He was having second thoughts about allowing her to talk him into it. And his pride was a little bit dusted up that it was Brandy’s money—money she got from her father. Tucker had always paid for everything with his own funds, earned with his own hands.
You’re thinking too much, Tucker. You’ve got to keep your head on straight. Concentrate on what’s ahead of you. Be grateful for what you have.
That was it. He’d not been grateful enough lately. He was going to be a father. He was married to a wonderful woman. He’d successfully gotten his buddy home safely and seen to it that he was positioned right for the best possible results. His family was going to plant roots, own something that would keep them close to the beach, ensconced in the community he loved.
Next time he opened his journal, he was going to write about that—all the good things coming to him, not the things that were at risk.
But the thought of a man walking into the woods to purposely end his life still chilled him. It had happened to Brawley. He hoped, if it ever happened to him, he’d recognize the signs in time.
Chapter 6
Brandy knew Tucker should be home early from the meeting, not have a pitstop at the Scupper. But when she heard his truck, she was relieved. It was going to be their last night together, and he had to be at the base by three.
“Hey there,” he said as he tossed his keys and grabbed her for a smothering bearhug. “Wanna miss dinner and fool around until I have to go?” His eyes sparkled as that little smirk crept across his lips.
“I could be up for that. Anything you need to do first?”
“Think we could take a shower? Then I won’t have to shower in the morning.”
“That sounds nice,” she said as that familiar tingle tickled all the way down her spine. “But maybe you’ll be too hot and sweaty and—”
His big mouth covered hers, making words impossible. His hands were already digging into the top of her pants, and then those pants were down at her ankles.
“I think I’d like to taste you a bit first, maybe,” he said through his teeth, not giving her a chance for a reply. “Then I might want to slather some of that lemony gel all over your body so I can have a nice, lasting image of what I’ll be coming home to.”
When his fingers breached the elastic of her panties and penetrated her core, she inhaled sharply and pressed herself into his hand, raising one thigh to rest on his hip. He quickly disposed of her panties, kneeled, slipped her knee over his shoulder, and licked his lips as he examined her sex. His quiet deliberation and his slow movements had her breathless with anticipation. Finally, his tongue was on her clit, making its way inside her opening.
She gripped his shoulder with one hand while the other sifted and tugged at his hair. Her pelvis quivered as his tongue explored and set her on fire. He took his time, giving tiny love bites extending into the soft tissues of her upper thigh. His thumbs pressed as his lips drank from her and had her begging for a night of lovemaking that would never end.
Maybe it was the sweetness of knowing that he’d be gone for a few weeks—hopefully only a few days. Maybe it was because she was more sensitive now because she was carrying his child. But whatever it was, the fire in her belly grew, filling her with cruel need. She was completely his.
He gently rose, taking her hand, and led her to the shower where he stripped. Her breathing was ragged, and her desire for him so great, she hungrily stared at his beautiful, chiseled body with his enormous cock teasing her. She didn’t remember how she got undressed, but when she stepped into the warm spray, his arms were about her, his mouth on her mouth, pressing deep, moving her to the slick tiles at her back. Effortlessly, he hoisted her up, hands under her thighs as she rocked against his hips. He bent his knees and angled himself and then pushed his way deep inside her.
She nearly fainted. There was so much she wanted to say, but he had total command over her mouth. He begged for her hands on his shaft. He drank her moans. He kissed her neck. She felt the hard muscles of his chest press her such that she could hardly breathe. Her hands slid up his lower back, feeling his huge muscles deliciously ripple as he thrust hard and deep, repeating and picking up the intensity until her bones were made rubber.
SEAL's Rescue Page 3