Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  “Stop on by about eight, okay?” Fredo replied. “I think we’re gonna teach Sanouk some poker.”

  Armando chuckled as he watched Gina and Sam stop by Sam’s huge black Harley. “If I’m not mistaken, that boy will be fleecing all of you tonight. He’s dumb like a fox.”

  “A real testament to ol’ Gunny, I’d say.”

  “Roger that, Fredo.”

  Sam started up his bike and half the street turned to watch the source of the rumbling noise. Gina stepped back and deposited the rest of her cone in the garbage can nearby, and waved to the leather-clad giant, yet the man didn’t leave. Sam revved his bike several times as if waiting for something.

  There was no goodbye kiss.

  “Wow. That sounded familiar,” Fredo said.

  “Okay, I’m on the strand and bought an ice cream. That satisfy your curiosity?” He felt a little bad about the sharpness of his tone. He could hear Fredo bristle over the phone.

  “I’m not checking on you, Armani. I feel your need for privacy. Doesn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain girl, now does it?”

  “Nope. It’s just ice cream.”

  “You’re full of shit,” Fredo said and hung up.

  Armando slipped the phone in his pocket and shrugged off Fredo’s remark. The Mexican SEAL was also good at reading all of Armando’s moods. Sharing life-threatening events tended to do that to a guy.

  He watched her linger next to the biker as she stuffed her hands into her cutoffs. He knew he shouldn’t be interested in an explanation from her. She’d lied to him about the ex. What else had she lied to him about? Was it all an act? It would be better to just walk away and forget about her, about her lies, but he couldn’t for some reason. Well, he could. He knew he could. He’d been trained to do the unthinkable. But he didn’t want to. And this was the good old U.S. of A., where things were supposedly “normal” and “safe.”

  And then Armando started thinking again about what those succulent lips of hers could do.

  As Sam’s rumble faded, Armando watched her walk aimlessly down the concrete, then cross the street and move towards the beach not more than four cars ahead of his parked car. As she sandwiched through a narrow gap between vehicles, he saw her lift her suntanned arms in the air, holding her stomach in, revealing her bare midriff and just a taste of her muscled abs underneath the skimpy red top. He knew what she looked like with her jeans unbuttoned, knew what kind of panties she wore, and what it felt like to slide his fingers carefully into the juncture between her legs and touch her there. He also knew what her face tried to hide, that she needed his fingers inside her, she needed to be loved hard but cherished. That she liked it intense.

  And he was just the man to satisfy her. Intensity in women was always a danger signal. Armando liked uncomplicated fun. He loved women who were sure of themselves and had good energy. Gina was all those things and more. Something dark lurked just under the surface of her skin. He thought he just might have nicked it a bit that night in the pickup truck. He’d never had sex in front of a highway full of cars before, even if they had been behind a small grove of trees. This relationship, especially now with Sam’s appearance this evening, was getting very complicated.

  Sounds of the surf pounded in his ears as he followed her to the edge of the beach. He tried to will her to turn around and see him, but she was in heavy concentration. He wanted to be discovered. But she never turned, just kept walking toward the water’s edge. A few feet safely short of the waves she stopped and removed her sandals, then sat down.

  She was like a beacon for him and he couldn’t help but follow her. Was this stalking? Would she be afraid if she suddenly saw him? Would she even want to see him after what he’d done to Sam?

  Walk away. You have no business getting involved with her. You never question your inner guardian. Why start doing so now?

  He decided to ignore his better self, the prudent self that kept him out of danger and saved his life on many occasions overseas. Wasn’t this just as important? Wasn’t he crossing through a doorway of no return if he continued to follow her?

  He sighed and decided that, yes, he could handle whatever it was he was going to find out. Right now, he needed an answer.

  Armando stopped behind her seated form, then walked around her, standing to the side, but within sight. She started at first and began to get up, so Armando immediately sat down next to her.

  “Saw you cross the street, and, yes, I followed you here. Something I never do. Why am I doing this, Gina?” He faced the water’s edge but could feel her eyes on him. Then he turned and saw the worry in her face, the crease at the top of her lovely brown brows, the way her lips formed an O. Several strands of curly hair blew across her neck and chin. He wanted to smooth them back, but squeezed his fingers into the warm sand instead.

  “How long have you been here?”

  Of course she wanted to know how much he had seen. He wasn’t going to pussyfoot around if he could help it. Armando forced himself to focus away from her face and squinted at the ocean’s bright late afternoon sunlight. When he turned back to her, he nodded, saying, “I saw him.”

  Her eyes got wider for a second as she quickly looked down at her knees. Her swallow was strained.

  He wasn’t going to ask her. He wanted her to tell him without asking.

  “Things with Sam are complicated,” she began. It was a good start, but not a strong one.

  What’s complicated about an ex? Or is he her ex?

  “Didn’t take you for one of those,” he chose to say instead.

  “One of those?”

  “Women who keep going back to a guy after he’s been violent.”

  Her back straightened. He’d hit a nerve. That was a good thing.

  “I’m not one of those women, thank you very much.”

  Armando rubbed the back of his neck. She was lying to him again. Did the woman know the difference? “Do you even know the truth, Gina? Why can’t I get a straight answer out of you? You got a thing against being honest?”

  Gina stood. “Screw you.”

  Armando stood as well. “You already did, Gina. We fucked like bunnies in the back seat of my friend’s beater, remember?”

  She turned away and started to march off towards the road. Armando wanted to grab her arm and stop her, but he knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. Her arms swung at her sides, her steps deliberate, ridiculously beautiful the way the flesh on her ass jiggled with each stomp. He placed his hands on his hips and decided that if she was walking out of his life, he’d better enjoy the view.

  To his surprise she whipped around and came at him. She started yelling before she was within earshot, so all he heard was, “talk to me that way. You are a fuckin’ bastard of the first order.”

  “Oh, the first order. As opposed to the second or third?” he quipped.

  She scowled at him, huffing her displeasure. Along with her anger, she was a swirling tornado of other emotions, too, and he reveled in seeing her struggle to get a handle on her situation. Armando was grateful he’d been trained not to react. Let her work it out. He knew she would. He loved watching her fury.

  “Who in the devil do you think you are?”

  He smiled down at his feet. He was getting a serious hard-on. Dang it. This would make things more difficult. All he wanted to do was take her down and love the livin’ crap out of her. He raised his gaze to her beautiful face, with her mahogany hair flying all around in the ocean breeze, her fingers bunching into fists and then extending. All scrunched up, her lips were so damn kissable, he licked his and uttered a line he knew he would pay for later, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m the one who made you come so many times you could hardly walk afterwards, sweetheart, and you wanted more. At least, that’s what—”

  She slapped him. Well good for her. Yup, he clearly deserved that. He’d gone over the line a bit with that comment. But damn, even her slap was sexy. He wished she’d do it again. He wished she’d let him hold her un
til she stopped squirming, but that was out of the question. Didn’t mean he didn’t imagine what that would feel like, though. He was drawn to her high-octane energy.

  Careful, you dog. You’re gonna get into trouble.

  “You have no right to talk to me like that,” she shouted. “What we did was a mistake!”

  Armando looked around the beach area to see if they had attracted attention. It was nearly deserted.

  She was still angry, but she didn’t leave. Perhaps she wanted to pick a fight. Well, she was playing with the wrong person for that one.

  “Okay, Gina. I get that it was a mistake. What’s with all this big drama?”

  “What you said.”

  “What I said. Seems like—” he squinted his eyes as he thought better of what he was about to say. “Never mind. Erase that thought.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You think it was a mistake. Okay, so be it. I’m totally hands-off from this point on. I see you, I say and do nothing. That what you’re asking for, Gina?”

  That one got to her. He could see her eyes widen. Unless he was totally mistaken, her anger had flared, and that wasn’t the reaction he expected.

  She sizzled a bit, turning and sighing in frustration, and then she added, “Fine.” Her delivery was followed by a speedy turnaround and exit toward the parking lot.

  So here we are again in sunny San Diego, enjoying the view.

  But he could tell she really didn’t want to run away from him. And that was kind of exciting on all sorts of levels.

  Chapter Eleven

  Damn the man!

  Gina was furious with him for his obvious lack of manners. But she was more furious with herself for being so flustered and not knowing exactly what to do. His words reverberated in her ears. I’m the one who made you come so many times you almost couldn’t walk…or something to that effect, anyhow.

  Awful part of it all, she thought as she arrived at her car, was that he was right. She steeled herself to not look back at him.

  Why?

  What if he wasn’t watching her drive off? What if he was?

  What the fuck difference does it make?

  Her boss had asked that she cool it with the SEAL. Well, she’d just poured a gallon of ice water on that gorgeous hunk of man candy. The guy who’d shown her more rockets than the Fourth of July.

  She started her car and began to edge out from the curb.

  I’m not going to look. I’m not going to look.

  And then she looked. She got a glimpse of him running down the beach, waving to someone south of him. So, he wasn’t looking. Did it matter?

  That’s when the car coming from behind hit her.

  Fuck!

  She put her head in her hands and rested it on the steering wheel. Talk about control. Lack of control, rather. She’d just wrecked the right side of her car, because she’d been thinking about screwing the SEAL in the back seat of some dipshit old pickup instead of watching where she was going.

  Where is your head, Gina? Think!

  A young college-aged boy knocked on her driver window. “Are you all right, ma’am?” she could hear him say through the shattered glass.

  This wasn’t helping. Ma’am? Am I that old? She rolled down her window, which crumbled and fell in shattered pebbles all over the pavement. She stared at the damaged right side of the boy’s car, and then over to her rear driver side. The tire was flat, the wheel well concave a full six inches. Her car was not going to be drivable.

  “I’m so sorry,” she began, and then tears filled her eyes. “I’m fine, but my car…” Cars were weaving around the accident. She was suddenly the center of attention as frustrated motorists and onlookers glared at her.

  I’m an airhead of the first order.

  Armando returned to his Hummer after his run on the beach. It felt good to get the tension out of his system. He’d found Marky, Kyle, and Jones and he’d dovetailed into their run as easy as pasting a stamp on a letter. Seamless, that’s how their friendship was. Simple. Uncomplicated. He liked uncomplicated.

  He was going to join Kyle at the store on base so he could finally pick up his long-awaited order. The Velcro was not exactly the width he wanted, but it would work. The plastic hooks and fabric were perfect.

  Kyle was taking over Brandon duty while his wife, Christy, showed a house. Armando saw the three of them walk in just as he was about to check out.

  “Hey there, little man,” he said to the baby, who was strapped backwards to Kyle’s massive chest. The baby’s fat arms and legs bicycled as he started an excited bouncing routine when he saw Uncle Armando. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said to Christy as he gave her a kiss on the cheek. She was dressed to the nines.

  “Watch it, Armani,” Kyle growled

  “You let her strut in here all dressed up like that? What the fuck you thinking?” he teased his LPO.

  Christy beamed. “At least someone appreciates high heels and tight skirts. This one prefers me barefoot and pregnant.”

  “Workin’ on it. Workin’ it hard,” Kyle said while Brandon flailed his arms and legs. “Okay, Babe, go make us millionaires today,” he said as he kissed his wife goodbye.

  Armando was happy for Kyle and Christy. He was happy for all the guys who met women who were strong enough to handle their intensity. Gina was a pistol all right, but she had a hair emotional trigger, which was one thing in the bedroom, but entirely another one when it came to living in his world. He forced himself to focus on what he did have.

  “What you up to?”

  “Gotta go talk to Chief Timmons for a sec. You wanna tag along? We got that poker party tonight.”

  “You going to expose your son to that? A little soon, don’t you think?” Armando said as they walked to the parking lot.

  “No choice. Christy’s got a company dinner and I had the choice. Go with her and get a sitter, or go with you guys and bring the little dude along with me.”

  “You let her go out to those functions without you, man?”

  Kyle shrugged. “I’m the one she comes home to.” He started to unstrap Brandon. Armando protested. “Leave him be. I’ll drive you over there.”

  “Watch out for those Navy regulars or you’ll get a ticket,” Kyle said as he took up position at shotgun.

  “And my millionaire friend will gladly pay it too.”

  “Shit, I wish. It’s expensive being married. We couldn’t do it without Christy’s income. She makes more money than I do now. Isn’t that fucked up?”

  “Nah. I look at her and I think you got it pretty damned good, Kyle. Wife, baby, and she brings home the bacon too. She doesn’t happen to have a sister, does she?”

  “Brother, but they’re not close. Gunny said you was getting cute with that friend of Mia’s.”

  “Thing of the past, I’m afraid.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  “Happens. You know that.”

  “Roger that. Guess I was just lucky Christy couldn’t read house numbers.” He’d met his wife when she’d entered the wrong home to hold an open house for a fellow agent. Armando’s home.

  “Well, she was smart enough to marry you. I’d say you both got lucky.”

  They pulled up in front of the brick single-story building that housed command offices. Armando wondered what the reason for the visit was. “Everything okay here?”

  “Wanna find out about our training, see if I can get the skinny on where we’re headed. Christy wants to plan a vacation, and if we’re going to Mexico, well, I might do an extension and meet her somewhere nearby after our training.”

  “As opposed to Alaska.”

  “That girl would never go to Alaska. San Francisco’s about as cold as she’s willing to be.”

  Timmons was looking even more tired than the last time Armando saw him. The chief’s desk was covered in papers, even though he’d hired one of Daisy’s friends, a woman who was a “spacialist.” Half the Team guys thought for a while that maybe he’d kicked the bucket, his desk and office had b
een so clean. But now the attractive bookshelves with the neat rows of forms, like cornrows, were covered over in plastic banners, jackets, rolled-up recruiting posters and a box of donuts that was still there from a month ago. A broken paper shredder with its electrical umbilical cord snaking over the top sat in front of the bottom two shelves, partially obscuring the contents

  The chief’s retirement was coming up at the end of the year, and he’d been in a disagreeable mood ever since it was announced almost eight months ago. He looked up from an inch-thick wad of papers held with a silver binder clip. The eyes said it all. Though tired, he perked up when he saw little Brandon. It was well-known he loved children and tolerated his wife.

  “Well there’s our newest frogman. How you doin’ there, fella?” He let the baby grab onto his forefinger. “Wow, he’s strong. Been working out at Gunny’s?”

  “Yeah. He’s going for everything these days. Started pulling himself up at six months,” Kyle answered.

  Armando looked at the frog statue behind his LPO. The replacement one for the first replacement. The green color was off.

  “So, what can I do you for?” Timmons asked.

  “Was wondering if you know where we’re doing our training.”

  “Afghanistan.”

  “No shit? No way, Timmons.” Kyle was livid.

  “Just messing with you. Looks like the Nevada desert. Doing some coordination with the drone druids, and we got a new 50-cal we’re trying out.”

  “That’s a shame,” Kyle said. “Was hoping for Mexico.”

  “Be patient, my man. It’s kinda ugly, but Nevada has its perks.”

  The baby was beginning to squeal, so Kyle unstrapped him and hiked him over his left shoulder. Armando could smell the full diaper Kyle hadn’t noticed.

  “Well, that’s just too damned bad. Can I tell some of the guys?” Kyle hitched the squirming Brandon a little higher. It was too high.