Legacy: A Salvation Society Novel

by Rachel Robinson

  Maverick clears his throat. “No, no, of course not. I meant that marriage is forever and sometimes flings aren’t forever. You understand that.”

  Liam agrees, then says. “Aarabelle. Honey, please think about this. You might get a mark on your record and have to deal with some red tape for a while but this will go away. You don’t need a husband to make this go away. Especially a man who only wants to marry you to save his ass.”

  “Look at me,” I tell Aara. “Look me in the eye.”

  She does, and it confuses me even more. I have no idea what she’s thinking. “I love you. I don’t care about my ass. I want you forever. That’s the only thing I care about right now.”

  Her silence is deafening. Maverick and Liam are arguing, though it’s not aggressive. More of a volleying of ways to fix what we’ve done. “You’re having a baby with someone else.” That’s her reply. “I might love you, but I’m not ready for that, Luke.”

  “What the fuck!” Maverick roars, hearing Aara’s reply. My mom screeches into the webcam. “Who is it? A baby? I cannot be a grandma right now.” My chief gets the meeting under control and directs them back to the matter at hand.

  I close my eyes and grab Aara’s wrist. I slide a black Cartier band on her left hand. “I wanted to find someone to die for. Love is a meaningless currency unless you can back it with something. I back my love for you with my entire existence. With all I possess. I’ve had physical attachments before and mistakes were made, but this is what happens when you bottle up love for your entire life, waiting for the right person.” I release a hopeful breath. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew no one could love you better.”

  She sets a hand on my cheek. It’s cold in this hot as fuck office. She says my name and I know what her reply is going to be.

  An unmistakable sound fills the air. Gunshots. The whistling and popping can be heard from our position adjacent to the captain’s quarters.

  “Plan B, the pirates are getting unruly!” Chief calls out, slamming his palm on the button by the door. It’s the panic alarm and tells everyone to get to stations.

  My dad’s eyes grow large and worried when I turn to face him. “Love you, son,” he whispers right before the screen garbles, then cuts off.

  When I glance over my shoulder, Aarabelle is gone. The crutches are on the floor next to her chair.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Aarabelle

  It’s never the best-case scenario. I learned that in training and in preparing for what was supposed to be tomorrow’s mission. In the cover of night, we’d take the Zodiacs, the smaller, rubber boats from our ship and board the pirate ship. Intelligence determined that’s their busy time so they wouldn’t be on alert and we’d have the element of surprise.

  Now we’re hanging out somewhere near worst-case scenario, in a delicate balance of kill, but not all the way, because we need things from them. I grabbed my boot from medical, wiggled my foot in and ran up the stairs, the searing pain starting at my ankle and ripping up my leg is all but forgotten when I round to starboard. They’re on the ship. I don’t have time to think about who fucked up—who wasn’t on top of their game. To allow this to happen means something fantastically awful and negligent has taken place. This is my first rodeo and that fact is evident to me. I don’t have my sidearm. I have a knife in my pocket that I slip out and open as my heart drops nearly all the way to my feet. Hand to hand combat isn’t something a SEAL ever hopes for. It’s for when all other options have been exhausted. My first and only option is the last option. My pulse thumps against my neck as I press myself against the hull before I’m noticed.

  I lay a hand on my chest and take a moment to compose myself as I rationalize what will happen next. The snipers should be getting into position right now. I look at my watch and begin to count seconds. Then I peer around as slowly as I can manage and hear three men speaking Zulu. I can understand bits and pieces from my studies, but there’s no way I can speak it to negotiate. Plus, there’s the unfortunate fact I’m a woman. Fat chance of any peaceable encounter right now. At the mere thought of my gender, I worry for Marissa. The pirates we’re tracking are kidnap-for-ransom villains. With the money they receive in ransom, they fund underground crime rings. Marissa would be a prime target as a female.

  Mossimo and Babe creep up next to me. I’ve never felt such relief.

  “How many?” Babe whispers, his bushy brows knit together with extreme focus.

  As I hold up three fingers, he eyes the knife in my hand and raises one brow. Sliding a hand down his leg he comes up with his spare sidearm and passes it to me. I rescind what I just thought, the heavy metal in my hand brings the most relief I’ve ever felt. I mouth a thank you, but he’s not watching me, he’s listening to the pirates with a stoic professionalism. A day at the office. That’s what it is for him and Mossimo. Practiced. The admiration is truly something that brings me the strength I need right now. I tell them positions and give details like they’d expect from me. I’m their officer. Even if I’m flailing inside, I’m ready to fight.

  Finally, our snipers fire off a warning shot from above. I close my eyes and wait for Babe’s count. The shots serve two purposes. To let the pirates know shit is about to get real, and also as a signal for the rest of us. As we count down from ten, bits and pieces of my life flash. All the things I’d want to keep if I had a choice. Liam bouncing me on his knee when I was four. One of my first memories of him. Most dads play pony with their children on their knee. We played battleship as I fired from my finger guns at approaching enemies. Then another of my brother Shane falling down on the driveway. He stood up with a bloody mouth and only wanted me even though our parents were sitting feet away. Shane. My chest pierces as I think of never seeing him again. My dad always treated us equal even though Shane was his biological child. The memories speed up, in a flash flood of light and happiness.

  Babe’s whispered count finishes and we round the corner to find the three men waiting for us. My gaze locks on the pirate I’m to subdue. They said that women can’t separate emotions from action. That we’d fail in spur-of-the-moment decisions because we’re too emotional. Maybe part of that is true. Maybe it’s why I’ll be a more fluid operator. Letting that cloud my judgment now isn’t an option, though. I don’t meet the guy’s eyes. I watch his hands and see he’s unarmed, at least at this moment. Babe already has his guy in a headlock and is guiding him away from the edge of the boat where further potential threats lurk.

  The guy watches warily, noticing the gun by my side. He reaches a hand under his oversized t-shirt and pulls out an AK. The second I identify the gun, I know my small sidearm doesn’t stand a chance. I lunge forward quickly and kick the gun out of his hand. He didn’t expect me to move. He expected me to raise my gun. It slides across the deck, spinning. Mossimo already secured his target so there’s no one to grab the weapon. My goddamn ankle throbs with pain as I pop up to stand in time to take a punch to the face. Staggering backward a few steps, the blackness sweeps violently, but I regain my footing. My gun is no longer in my hand, so I hammer back, leaning all my weight into the punches.

  A SEAL sniper bullet whizzed by my head and a rush of panic sets in as the pirate takes out my feet and I hit my back. He’s on top of me, his weight bearing down.

  Blood trickles down from my nose. I swallow and the iron burns my throat. Another bullet slices the air above us. I need to get him standing.

  And because I’m a woman and I’ll always use what I have to, I slide my knee up and drive it into his balls as hard as possible. He buckles forward and I roll from under him as he stretches out a hand to grab my foot.

  I take my knife out of my pocket and flick it open. There’s no more fumbling, even though I can’t feel my foot anymore. Pulling him to stand, I angle the knife under his neck with my right hand and hold his hair with my left.

  Then I turn to face the boat to see if I can glimpse my teammates from above.

  Luke

  I’m f
ucking up left and right. Dagger is cussing at me. Hoffer, also a sniper, looks at me like I’ve gone fucking mad. I think I am a little mad right now. I’m watching Aara wrestle a bad guy through the scope of my rifle. She’s bleeding. She’s injured. I want to run down and save her, but that’s not how this works. Not in a well-oiled machine where we all have individual roles just as important as others. Pirates are on the stern, too. The fight rages on all sides. I can’t control my breathing. I feel like I’m out of my body, but I’ve also never felt so realized. What I stand to lose is taking my breath away. Literally. In every possible way.

  “Take the shot,” Dagger hisses. “It’s clear.”

  It’s my target. I shouldn’t have missed the first two times.

  My hand is shaking, pointer finger trembling. “I’ll miss.” I could hit her, is what I mean. Dagger knows it.

  Hoffer clears his throat, his impatience growing with my fucking obsession.

  “Take the motherfucking shot right now. She’s literally got him in perfect position,” Dagger replies. She does. I have no idea how she managed to give me a better shot. She’s a fucking operator under pressure. I’m a mess. “Unless you want her to have to slit his throat with her pocketknife. Jesus, Hart. Grow a fucking pair and protect your teammate.”

  He should have pulled the trigger at my first hesitation. I think Dagger is proving a point that I’m an ineffective operator when Aarabelle is involved. That I’m tainted. Worthless in love. Even more worthless without it. A liability.

  Aara’s gaze seems to meet mine, even though I know it’s impossible. It’s a fucking gun scope. Not my eyes against hers. They’re pleading, then something changes—a hardening realization. Aara slits his throat, one hard yank with a knife issued for camping, from ear to ear. I cough on a breath as his body falls to the deck, a dark red puddle forming around his head. She’s staring straight ahead, breaths jagged as she turns her gaze behind her to where the pirates boarded. Another climbs up, peeking his head above the bottom railing. She throws her arms out to the side and screams. “Come get me.” She shakes her head, dripping knife shaking in her right hand. “I’m a woman. An easy target.” The man must see his friend splayed out below her because he tries to lower himself.

  I pick him off quickly. A straight shot to his head. He disappears, falling back down below. Aara staggers backward, her injured ankle visible from here. “She’s hurt.” My voice cracks. “Badly.”

  “That didn’t stop her from getting the job done,” Hoffer mutters.

  The second alarm sounds to signal clearance of ship.

  Dagger chuckles, standing. I face him, trying to control the emotions roiling through my body. He punches me in the face. Not as hard as he could have. Because he is my best friend, after all. But hard enough to know I fucked up hardcore. I deserved it. I wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth and look at it as he walks away from me shaking his head.

  “You don’t deserve her, you weak motherfucker.” He tosses the words over his shoulder like a curse.

  It’s now that I know that I never needed to do anything for Aarabelle Dempsey. The job my dad gave me was more for me than it was for her. Aara is who I knew she could be—who she’s always been. A hero. A badass Navy SEAL. An elite equal in all ways. The woman who fought her way to the top with sheer will and determination. She’s arrived. I didn’t anticipate falling in love with her. No, that was never in the plan. But if I have to decide between giving her a pinnacle dream, letting her live it, and walking away from my heart. I’ll walk away. I slink down the stairs to the deck of the boat that’s full of commotion. I see Marissa hugging Aarabelle from a distance. I glimpse her white smile through the thick blood covering her mouth and nose. I know what she’s feeling. The absolute horror of taking a life, balancing against the pride in saving those she loves. The greater good.

  She’s the only thing I truly know in this world. I want to be close to her.

  Yet, I have to let her go. This isn’t my victory. This is my loss. One I’ll be counting for the rest of my life.

  She meets my eyes and her smile falls, the pain searing through the atmosphere. She knows what I’m thinking. She has to know. Aara takes off the black ring from her finger and slides it into her pocket, making sure I see the gesture and understand her answer is no. I was foolish to think it would ever be yes. Queens don’t marry for the frivolity of love. They rule by themselves. Then when an alliance is needed, they strike a deal. Her career was never going to be something she sacrificed, and I was selfish to ask it of her.

  I’m no king. I nod my understanding and turn to walk to the office. There is a debrief. People will get fired. Or the assumption of losing their job because they fucked up so badly. It wasn’t something anyone expected, yet the result is the same. We have pirates in our custody who will give up the location of several hostages being held for ransom. One is a lead man who has high ties to the crime ring we’re trying to take out. He’ll give us even more information. He probably would have ended up dead if our initial plan unfolded tomorrow. Everything is relayed to our command back in San Diego via a video conference. Aara cleaned the blood off her face and hands for the meeting, but her uniform was still splattered with it and she looks weary.

  Listening to her give the facts, I’m so fucking proud. My chest swells and my eyes water when they give her accolades for her bravery. There’s a distinction to her voice. Having done something that’s never been done quite like this before, there’s a new power in this room. In this world. And it was birthed from a place of fierce tenacity. From being told no. From being beaten down nine times, but getting up ten. A small smile plays on her mouth when no one is looking. I wonder if she’s thinking of me at all, and the crushing feeling of not being good enough tingles up my spine.

  Dagger claps me on my shoulder when I exit the stifling room and take in a breath of fresh air. “You can’t play God when she’s not searching for religion.” He clears his throat. “I’ll walk back with you. I’m finished with watch.”

  When we’re down below and his nausea hits him. “You hit like a fucking girl.”

  “Says the man with a fat lip.”

  I sigh. “I have something to tell you and I don’t want you to think I’m telling you because you hit me like a girl.” I open the door to our room and humidity hits. I turn on the fan. “It’s about Marissa.”

  He smirks as he scrapes the floor with a folding chair to drag it in front of the fan.

  “She’s fucking other dudes.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s like you forget completely who you used to be. Who I am. Who many people are.” He wipes sweat from his forehead. “We aren’t exclusive, though I’d consider it. She does this thing with her pinky finger.”

  I hold up a hand. “Stop there. Don’t need the details. It’s not that I don’t remember it. It’s that I don’t want it.” I hang my head. “I’ll never be able to go back to that now that I know what real feels like. Wish I could go back to it. Shit was simple.”

  “I’m starving. I’m going to find Marissa,” Dagger says, grinning. “Get some ice on that lip.”

  He leaves, the door clanging behind him. Even though nothing is simple anymore, I don’t prefer the ignorance of never knowing what true love feels like. I leave the room, too, heading to find some ice for my face. Instead, I end up back in the computer room. There’s one new message. From Jonas. The subject line reads: Results

  Chapter Twenty

  Aarabelle

  I’ve been back on American soil for three months. We did all that we could while floating in the Indian Ocean. After the disaster that now gleams as a heroic medal which rides on my chest, hostages were rescued and the crime ring was disassembled for the moment. I had to sit out of the actual hostage rescue days after the onboarding attack. My ankle ended up being a complex fracture that needed surgery. The orthopedic surgeon wasn’t sure how I was able to stand on it at all. I blame adrenaline. And pure grit, let’s be honest. I decided I’d rathe
r die than let the statistics wage war against my gender. I knew I needed to handle myself like a man would in the same situation. The second I knew the threat was gone, it felt like my whole leg was on fire.

  I’ve been staying with Marissa while recovering from the surgery. With my condo burnt to a crisp along with almost all of my belongings, it’s not like I had anywhere else to go. She nursed me back to health with my parents visiting frequently. The first time mom came she brought my suitcase from Hart’s house with her. I didn’t even ask how she got it, because my new life’s goal is to not think of him as anything but a colleague. I placed him in the box he should have stayed in this whole time—the hot guy friend zone. The hardest part is simple. Loving him desperately, endlessly, without ever being with him again.

  I keep the black ring in my pocket every day. Marissa says it’s detrimental to my goal, but to me, it represents something bigger. It represents a life possible, if I hadn’t made my own legacy. It could have been mine. The happy marriage with a husband, kids, the whole thing. To me, that’s something. The ring represents sacrifices I happily make for my country.

  “It’s a fucking Cartier ring, Aara. You really need to give it back. It’s time,” Marissa says, barging into my room with my water bottle. She trips over a twenty-five-pound dumbbell and curses under her breath. “Would you clean up in here? You’re mobile now, no need to live like a…man.”

  I’m twirling the ring in my hand sitting in the middle of my yoga mat. I look at the ring and back to her. Marissa looked up the price the first time she saw it, and this has been the conversation since then. “He doesn’t want it back,” I deadpan. I know him.

  “That’s not the point.” I take the bottle from her and swallow down a ton of water. “The point is you have no intention of wearing his ring, ever, so it’s bad form to keep it.”