Legacy: A Salvation Society Novel

by Rachel Robinson

  “Good riddance,” I whisper just as Jonas buzzes through the security intercom.

  “She’s one pissed off broad.”

  I laugh, and clap back to him with a joke about her oversized sunglasses I know he’ll find funny. His chuckle is clipped as he signs off.

  Turning, I saunter through a long glass corridor to the kitchen. On one side there are views of my aqua blue private beach, and on the other side you can see the expanse of my side yard where there are craggy rocks, overlooking a steep cliff and the pool area. It’s another stunning San Diego day, and I pause to let the views soak in.

  I inherited the twelve-bedroom mansion near La Jolla Farms when Mom and Dad built a new estate closer to my sister’s high school. Marley doesn’t have an interest in real estate yet. I have a feeling when she does, it’s going to be on the opposite coast, in some dreary skyrise penthouse. Where she’ll be going ga-ga over the neighbor who happens to be a goth overlord who writes bestsellers and judges you by the kind of foam on top of your coffee. My dad knows it, I know it, my mom is still in denial that she birthed a child that wants to leave the west coast. Easily forgetting, she was an east coast girl prior to meeting my dad.

  The whole house was modified to become a wireless masterpiece when I moved in. I love technology in all shapes and forms. Everyone makes jokes that my alter ego is Lucas Askhart, the evil, plotting villain by night. Hero by day, of course. If I hadn’t become a SEAL, I’d probably have become a software developer. As I enter the kitchen, I command all the lights on, and order the local news to play while I go about making coffee and mixing a morning protein shake. My phone is docked on the charging station on the island and its buzzing.

  I grab it while guzzling the spinach and blueberry concoction straight from the blender. It’s Dad. Licking my lips, I answer. “What’s good, Mav? You must be old sport tired with the training you’ve been proctoring.”

  He breathes out long and heavy. I’m not sure if it’s relief, or a breath of foreboding. “She made it.”

  “What?” I’m not caffeinated yet, and the only she on my mind is Chantal and how much damage control is warranted before she blasts the breakup to her friends.

  “Aarabelle. She’s in.”

  I knew it was down to the wire and she was still barely hanging on, but I am surprised. She’ll be pinned as a SEAL. The first woman in history to be among the ranks of the elite. “Holy shit. What’s Liam say?”

  “Other than I told you so?” Dad says, laughing. “He’s happy. It’s what she wanted. She’s his daughter. Of course, he wants for her what she wants for herself.” He pauses, and I hear Mom in the background calling for him to say hello to me.

  “Tell her I said hi,” I interject.

  Dad grunts. “I can’t tell you how to treat people because you’re a grown ass man now, but Dempsey is going to have a hard time sliding into her role. Especially as an officer.”

  I’d forgotten. Obviously, I knew she was an O, but ranks mean shit when you’re going through BUD/S and SQT. Everyone is treated with equal pain and commanded to do the same things. “Fuck, that’s right. Do you know which Team she’s going to yet?” SEAL Teams 1, 3, 5, and 7 are based in Coronado.

  “Five,” Dad says. “With you. This is classified as of now, so don’t run your mouth.”

  I choke on the last gulp of shake, and set the blender in the deep sink. Margarita gets here in an hour to clean. She’ll usually prep dinner for me if I’m home, and if I’m away training, she spends her time organizing. I keep a full-time housekeeper and security employed at all times, even when I’m deployed. Shit gets dusty, and well, I’m a subscriber to cleanliness is close to godliness.

  “Dad, are you trying to tell me I need to play nice? You know I’m not going to hassle the woman. That’s not me.” I actually even tried to give her some solid encouragement when I saw her looking like death during Hell Week. She looked like she’d been ridden hard and hung up wet. Really, really wet. Hell Week wet is different than normal wet.

  “You might need to do more than play nice. She needs to…be integrated and the best way to do that is if she makes friends quickly. Friends in her platoon. Someone who knows the ropes to offer a helping hand.”

  Leaning my back against the counter, I gaze out the kitchen window. I want to get out in that beautiful SoCal day and feel the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. “What’s all the bullshit about equal treatment if you’re going to tell me how to act? Seems a little against protocol, Mav.” I grin, envisioning his face as I talk back.

  “Son, you listen here. It’s not so much me telling you how to act as it is me reminding you how you were raised. Make your mom proud. That’s the last I’ll say about that. Dempsey will have the HR Officer in her corner and that woman is not playing. After she congratulated Liam on his daughter’s success, she ball checked him by sending a new rules and regulations order to share with the Teams. It’s…tedious.” He coughs. “To say the least.”

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to befriend her and I bet it’s against regulations to be within a hundred-foot radius of her body at all times.”

  He grunts. That tells me I’ve probably hit the nail on the head. “You went through the wringer when you made it through and joined the Teams,” Dad says. “Because of who I am. So maybe you make her life easier by commiserating with her. That’s all.”

  He changes the subject and asks about my plans for the rest of the day. I tell him Dagger is coming over to work out and then no plans until later tonight. I try to keep my weekend days as low key as possible as the nights are…a little wild. Most of my friends are in the Teams, but I do also have friends from my younger days, before the military, when we were a bunch of rich kids running around Southern California doing whatever the fuck we wanted. Some of them are trouble. Chase, my best friend from high school, now owns several nightclubs. He takes pride in hobnobbing with celebrities. That often leads to him having to dust off his nose.

  “Why do you ask,” I say. “You guys want to come over? Marley called last night and asked to come over with some friends, to hang by the pool. I told her you guys needed to be here for that. I don’t want to babysit high school girls.” I head back to my bedroom and grab a pair of black workout shorts from a long drawer, and pull them on.

  Dad sighs. It sounds cynical. “I have the pinning ceremony. Heading to base now. Do you and Dagger want to meet at Mayton’s after you work out? To celebrate with the new guys?”

  Mayton’s is a restaurant and it is the celebration spot after new SEALs are pinned. When you’re going through BUD/S and SQT you’re not allowed to step foot in the place. It’s a sacred ritual. Mayton’s is known for surly men and bad behavior. They also make an awesome burger I can rarely refuse.

  “Sure, Mav. We’ll be there.” At the very least it will be entertaining watching the new teammates interact with us. Dad wishes me a good workout, we hang up, and Dagger buzzes the front door. My security lets him in and he calls out for me in his baritone growl.

  I walk to meet him, checking my watch. “Why are you here so early?”

  Dagger, like his name, is sharp. His hair is always done, his clothes are always impeccable, and, well, he’s sort of ruthless. There might be a story about him, a sharp knife, and a bad guy, but he never confirms or denies anything. Dagger came here to workout at and his hair is gelled. He ignores me and wanders into the kitchen.

  “You have a fully stocked fridge and I don’t. Is Marg here yet? I want an egg white omelet.”

  My housekeeper cooks for my friends when they’re here. Dagger loves this more than most and Margarita buys Dagger’s favorites when she does my shopping.

  “Disappointment coming, bro. She doesn’t get here until later,” I admit. “We’ll be gone.”

  He groans and opens the sub-zero fridge that houses the meat and dairy. The adjacent fridge has all of the produce.

  “Make a smoothie. I’m going to warm up. Hitting extra cardio because we’re going to eat
burgers at Mayton’s after this. With the FNGS.”

  He grins, flashing his wolfish smile. “Yes, ma’am,” Dagger says, pulling out veggies and fruits.

  I slide the huge tub of protein across to him and offer a clean blender jar. He’s humming the Death March as I walk back down the hall to the back stairs that lead to the first level. There are four bedrooms, four bathrooms, a smaller kitchen, and a full-sized gym down here. I adjust the thermostat to lower the A/C before I enter the double glass doors and head to my favorite treadmill. When I have to run inside instead of outdoors, this is my spot. In front of the mirrored wall, next to the big screen television.

  I turn the sound system on low and find my running playlist before warming up. I’m jogging, about to start sweating when Dagger waltzes in, dancing to the music. He has blueberry stained lips. “I got my cardio in last night,” he says, waggling his eyebrow. “Just need to lift. Wasn’t Chantal on the schedule last night?” he asks casually, like it was a business meeting. And I guess for him, that’s probably what dates are.

  “Didn’t get enough cardio last night,” I reply. “And she won’t be on my schedule again.”

  He chuckles, grabbing the heaviest dumbbells in the gym and starts pumping his biceps next to my tread. I up the speed to my normal pace and settle in. “You think that chick will be at Mayton’s?” Dagger asks. “Dempsey’s daughter?” Everyone knows she made it through training, but not everyone knows what Team she’ll be on or if she’ll participate in the normal ritualistic stuff that happens after.

  I don’t meet his eyes in the mirror. “No clue,” I say, breathing hard. “She earned her right to go though. You know?” Planting the integration bug now will be easier than later. Dagger is on SEAL Team 5 with me. And I’m close to him.

  “Yeah, but, man. It’s going to be weird as fuck.” He watches his biceps bow and pumps as he speaks. “Like, think about deployments when we’re shooting the shit in down time. Half of what we talk about is fucking and tits. I can’t see how this is going to end well for anyone.”

  I pass him a blank look to tell him I feel the same while trying to arrange my true thoughts. What she went through was what we all went through. Things will have to shift as we enter uncharted territory. It surely won’t all be bad as she was raised by a SEAL, inside the community. Knowing what she’s getting herself into is something she was born with. The lifestyle is familiar to her. She’s weathered deployments, attended funerals for fallen uncles, and has been privy to knowledge average citizens could never dream of knowing. I’m breathing haphazardly several minutes later when I respond. Dagger is on a different machine, legs. Slowing to a walk, I draw in a deep breath.

  “I knew her as a kid,” I exhale. “We both grew up in this community orbiting the same circle. I get it. Why she chose this path.” Hopping off the tread, I grab the dumbbells Dagger just had and start pumping before my heart rate dips.

  “You’re really going to be that guy, aren’t you?” Dagger hisses, smirking.

  Bringing up the weights, I move to shoulder press. “What? The logical one? The one that lets actions speak before pre-conceived notions?”

  Dagger stands, resting his hands on his knees hunched over. “You are the least logical motherfucker I know, Hart.” He waves his arm at the ceiling. “Your entire life doesn’t make sense. You live in a mansion that is bigger than a hotel. You get the hottest chicks but refuse to keep a girlfriend. You don’t have to work, and yet you have a career that forces you to work more often than not. So, while you’re over there spewing logic, we’ll all be over here on the other side of the fence looking at you like you’re nuts.”

  Defense. He’s put me on defense and I hate feeling this way. Stomach twisting, fists bunching, but he’s my friend. He has to be speaking the truth, right? At least his version of the truth. “Don’t bring my life into this. You know better than that.”

  “I only bring it up when your glaring wealth keeps you from relating to the rest of us.”

  I drop the weights and they thud on the rubber floor. Turning to face my friend, I glare. “Because you’re so fucking relatable yourself? How many friends do you have outside of the Teams?”

  He sighs and rolls his eyes. Like Marley does when she’s told no. “Oh, fuck off. No one outside of the Teams is…legit enough.”

  I inhale in a deep breath. “You’re a crazy motherfucker, Dagger. That’s why no one is your friend. We all have things that aren’t relatable. I was born into a wealthy family. I can’t change that. It’s not like I came out of the womb with Franklins in my fist begging for my trust fund. I wanted to live a life of service and I also happen to be wealthy. That’s the order.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Everyone knows how awesome the Hart family is. We got it.” Dagger drags knuckles across his lip to clear sweat on the way to a treadmill in the opposite corner of the gym. He’s finished talking and that’s the way it goes. It will be normal between us by the end of the workout, like the disagreement never happened. Partly because we’re good at bottling emotions, and partly because that’s how the brotherhood works. Nothing will sway my high opinion of him even if he pisses me off and vice versa.

  I finish off my last set of dead lifts and head into the attached bathroom to shower. There’s a couple shower stalls in the room with a toilet and sink area. In the corner, there’s a soaking tub that I use to ice my body. A steam room and a sauna are down a narrow hallway to the right, and complete the workout facilities perfectly. It’s barebones compared to the lavish interior upstairs. I soap up with my favorite soap that Margarita keeps stocked in all of the bathrooms in case I shower, and I let my mind wander. What if I didn’t break up with Chantal? What if I flipped my narrative and tried something new? Some things I can’t change, like my financial status. Other things my friend mentioned, I could work on.

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  Dagger is showering when I leave to go back upstairs. I hear him humming an eerie rendition of a popular song. He keeps some clothes in one of the guest bedrooms next to the gym. I’ll still be ready before him. Dagger’s hair takes forever.

  Mayton’s will be an informal occasion, so I throw on some jeans and a black tee. There’s a wide mirror in the back of my closet. I pull on the sleeves because it’s tight around my biceps and slide my fingers into my wet hair and ruffle.

  “Good to go.”

  Chantal’s panties catch my eye on the floor by the bed. I toss them in the trash can in my bathroom and head for the kitchen to grab my phone. While it’s on my mind, I shoot Chase a text.

  Luke: Chantal is out. Beware.

  She’s a hostess at one of his nightclubs and he’s the one who introduced us at a party. Chase is basically the reason I have a sex life at all, honestly. It’s early in the day, so I know he won’t respond. He’ll be asleep for another couple hours.

  “Let’s go, pretty boy,” I call out, cupping my hand by my mouth. I walk to the exit that leads to my garage and open bay door number four. The yellow Lambo. My favorite weekend ride.

  Dagger walks out of the bay toward his truck and we head to Mayton’s.

  Chapter Five

  Aarabelle

  I owe Marissa big time. She agreed to come to Mayton’s with me to celebrate. Not a crazy ask until you understand what type of place Mayton’s is. Sort of a meat market disguised as a bar slash burger joint. The only reason I plan to step foot in here is because I am a Navy SEAL. I graduated training. I made it through. The golden trident pin rides on my chest. A dream come true, if dreams were plans you have to work hard and sacrifice for. I did it. I step one foot into the bar area and let my gaze survey my surroundings.

  “This isn’t so bad,” my friend says, stepping next to me and nodding at an empty table. “I expected broken glass on the floors and to be groped by ghost hands the second I breathed in Mayton’s oxygen by everything you’ve told me.”

  I did what parents with young children do. They tell you the worst possible scenario with the knowledge
it won’t really be that bad. The actual end result will land somewhere in the middle of good and bad and you’re left feeling relieved in the end. I deployed the tactic because she was hesitant to come, and I need my best friend tonight. Surrounded by a peer group who is supposed to see me as equal, but despite my best efforts, and I do mean best, they can’t get past my gender. I lock my arm in Marissa’s. I’m wearing a black pants jumper. It’s casual, but dressy. God knows what comments I’d get if I put on a dress like I initially wanted.

  “That was a purposeful ruse. It’s pretty harmless as a long-standing establishment. I needed you mostly as a Team guy buffer.”

  Marissa makes an ungodly noise of disapproval. “You are a fucking Team guy, Aara. Man up.”

  Part of me knows she’s right. In for a penny, in for a pound. I see a familiar face outside in the ivy-covered patio area. I say face, because nothing else is familiar. Seeing each other in civilian clothing has been a rarity throughout training. I swallow hard.

  “Listen, I’m manning up,” I say, releasing her arm.

  It’s hard to explain that this is different. My training has prepared me to climb the physical mountain and become a Navy SEAL. Actually being able to relate to them? Becoming part of the brotherhood? Yeah, there’s no instruction manual for that.

  They’re loud and raucous, beer steins in hands as they linger by a tall gas heater. “Hoffer,” I say, forgetting his first name. He turns from his conversation and looks at me. It’s obvious he doesn’t recognize me at first, no one does. Their eyes raking my body in a way that definitely hasn’t happened before. “Hey guys,” I say, tilting my chin to the other guys.