Trusting a Warrior

by Melanie Hansen

  He sighed. The sharpness of his disappointment over not getting to talk to her surprised him a bit, even as he sensed that what she needed after a difficult day was a little decompression and quiet time.

  And maybe a pity-free hug, if I was around.

  Sitting up again, he glared at Bosch asleep in his cage. “But I’m not around, am I?” he said aloud. “And you’re getting free nose kisses. I had to ask for mine.”

  Just then the lock on the barracks door whirred, startling him, and he glanced up as Matt pushed it open.

  “Talking to yourself again?” Matt asked with a grin. “You do that a lot.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Geo growled, though the words were without heat. In the past couple of weeks, through rooming and working with Matt, he’d come to like him a lot. As a no-nonsense SEAL with a strong work ethic, he’d endeared himself to the entire platoon, so much so that Alex had offered him a permanent slot with them.

  “You thought any more about that job offer?” Geo asked him now. “Love to see you come aboard.”

  “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” Tossing his sweaty T-shirt aside, Matt skinned off his running shorts and wrapped a towel loosely around his hips. Then he dropped to sitting on the bed next to Geo. “The thing is...”

  “What?”

  Matt drew in a breath. “I screened positive for Green Team.”

  “Development Group?” Geo blinked. “Holy shit, dude! That’s great!” Of course Matt would accept the chance to join the elite SEAL Team Six, the highly mobile unit which specialized in time-sensitive missions. “Sucks to be us, but congrats!”

  “I’m also getting married.” Although Matt’s voice sounded rueful, his face glowed with happiness. “Proposed last weekend, got down on one fuckin’ knee and everything.”

  “Wow. Congrats again.” Geo eyed him, trying to picture serious, sometimes taciturn Matt ardently asking someone to marry him. Damn. Lucky Shane. “So...?”

  “So now I have a decision to make. Stay with a West Coast team, or uproot us both.”

  Geo winced. DEVGRU was based out of Dam Neck, Virginia, so accepting the slot definitely meant moving. “What about Shane’s job?”

  “That’s the thing.” Matt leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely between them. “His injuries mean going before a medical board, and if they keep him on operational status, he’ll be staying on the West Coast.”

  “Why? Why can’t he transfer to an East Coast team?”

  “He could, but...” Matt sounded stressed, and frustrated. “He owns a house in Imperial Beach. His sister and brother-in-law are in El Cajon, as well as his niece and nephew. I’d be asking him to give everything up in order to follow my dreams, but I also don’t want to start my marriage off with a long-ass separation.”

  “Well, as someone single, footloose and fancy-free, I got nothin’ in the way of advice.” Geo clapped Matt on the shoulder and squeezed. “Kinda regret proposing now, huh?”

  “I should, for his sake.” Grinning, Matt stood, his towel slipping perilously low. “But no, no regrets. Shane’s the best thing that could ever or will ever happen to me, and I can’t wait to marry him.” He pointed at Geo. “Just don’t tell him that, okay? I have an image to maintain. Mushy Matt is reserved for special occasions only.”

  “Ha. Noted.”

  After Matt had disappeared into the bathroom to shower, Geo stared unseeing at the dingy carpet. Screening for DEVGRU had never appealed to him—why, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was the thought of living his life tied to a government cellphone on a one-hour leash. No matter what he was doing, if a DEVGRU guy was called, he had one hour to get his ass on a plane. Missions spun up, and more than half the time, they spun right back down, creating a push-pull that tended to wreak havoc on personal lives.

  Nope, Geo didn’t envy Matt the difficult life decisions coming up, not one bit. He sighed and hooked his nearby duffel bag with his foot, intending to drag it over and dig out some clean clothes. As he did, Matt’s phone, tossed negligently on the bed next to Geo’s hip, lit up.

  Hey sexy. Where’s that dick pic u promised?

  The screen faded, then went off again.

  Need it now.

  Geo was reaching for the phone when it lit up one last time. J/k miss u baby. Be safe. Love u.

  Choking back a laugh, he tossed the phone facedown onto Matt’s bed, something that felt very much like envy coursing through him. He immediately shook it off. No way. He didn’t envy Matt. Uh-uh. Matt should envy him, because he didn’t have to answer to anyone, consult anyone, over the decisions he made, plus he had a contacts list full of people who’d request dick pics from him.

  An unwilling pang shot through Geo. The “love u” part, though?

  Not so much.

  * * *

  “Jesus, save some beer for the rest of us.”

  Geo paused in the act of refilling his glass. “What?”

  “We all pitched in for that pony keg, and you’ve already had half of it.” The guy met Geo’s stare challengingly. “When did you become such a lush?”

  “Ever since I started working with you, Lennox.” A chorus of “ooohs” broke out from the other guys as Geo deliberately filled his glass to the brim. “Fuck off.”

  The man bristled and drew himself up to his full height, which Geo had to admit was impressive. “It’s not ‘Lennox’ to you anymore, Monteverdi, it’s ‘sir.’”

  Geo rolled his eyes. “Okay. Fuck off...sir.” He finished pulling his beer, and just for shits and giggles let a goodly amount spill on the floor of the bar before he shut off the tap. Aiming a mocking salute at Lennox, he strolled away, only to be intercepted by Alex.

  “Hey, George,” Alex said, lips twitching a bit. “You shouldn’t bait the good ensign like that.”

  “Why? He’s a prick.”

  “Agreed.” Alex’s lips twitched even more. “But he’s already put a letter of reprimand in your service record over that arrest. Another one might hurt your chances at making Chief.”

  That gave Geo pause. Moving from E-6 to E-7 in the Navy was a huge accomplishment, one that only ten percent of servicemembers achieved. He’d been eligible for Chief the last two promotion cycles, been passed over, and was pinning his hopes on this go-round.

  “Chief’s board is in four months,” Alex went on, “so you gotta keep your nose clean at least till then, okay?”

  He clapped Geo on the shoulder and headed over to join the boisterous group next to the pool table.

  Sipping his beer, Geo leaned against the bar top, brooding. Making Chief meant a small bump in pay and a huge jump in status. It meant a deeper layer of brotherhood, one that could never be broken. It meant more responsibility, more respect—a respect that was far-reaching, even into the officer ranks. “Ask the Chief” was a well-known maxim, and one that any smart officer would adhere to.

  Geo grimaced, his gaze tracking Lennox from across the room. Present company excepted, of course.

  “What’s your beef with that guy?” Matt appeared at his elbow, his fresh club soda fizzing and popping. “Who is he?”

  Swallowing a gulp of beer, Geo grunted, “Lennox Parnell is everything that’s wrong with the system.” As Matt’s brow furrowed, Geo clarified, “He’s a mustang.”

  A mustang was a former enlisted guy who’d applied and been commissioned as an officer. The good ones took that experience and used it to make themselves better leaders. The bad ones...

  “Pretty hung up on who calls him ‘sir,’” Matt observed, and Geo tapped his own nose as if to say “bingo.”

  “Exactly. I knew him two platoons ago when he was a fuck-up E-5. How they gave him a commission...” Shaking his head in disgust, Geo drained his beer. “I wouldn’t follow that guy to the shitter, much less to war. Good ol’ No-Mag.”

  Matt choked on his sip
of club soda. “Was that his nickname?”

  “Yep. He was part of my fire squad during a long night of house-clearing with some Marines. When it was over, it turned out he’d accidentally ejected his magazine while breaching the first house.” Remembered anger tightened Geo’s fingers around his glass. “He didn’t even notice, one of our interpreters did—when he found it on the ground.”

  “Jesus.” Matt’s gaze shot to Lennox. “The whole time he only had a single bullet in the chamber?”

  “Yeah. The worst part? He didn’t own it, but tried to blame everyone from the gun manufacturer on down to the terp.” Geo grit his teeth. “I don’t care if he puts on Admiral someday, he’ll always be fuckin’ No-Mag to me.”

  “Unfortunately he’s also our AOIC,” Matt said drily. “Not much we can do about that.”

  The thought made Geo shudder. As assistant officer-in-charge, Lennox would be responsible for planning some of the missions they’d conduct while on deployment.

  “Just watch your back, brother,” he cautioned. “Dude’s gonna get someone killed someday through sheer arrogance and incompetence.”

  “Noted. And thanks.” After bumping knuckles, Matt wandered off, while Geo continued to glare at Lennox.

  Fuck, he hated that guy. Lennox knew it, too, which was why he delighted in forcing Geo to call him “sir” at every opportunity. One of these days, that asshole was gonna push him too far, and then all bets were off.

  Bring it.

  By midnight, the keg was empty and the rowdy pool game had finally burned itself out. Inebriated team guys sprawled around several tables pushed together, talking shop, talking trash, until someone raised his glass and slurred, “Hey! Did you know it’s five fuckin’ years today since Loomis bought it? Miss you, man.”

  “Shit, five years? ’til Valhalla, brother.”

  “Rest easy, Loomy.”

  After the initial mutters died down, someone else made a different memorial toast, and soon they were going down the line, everyone taking turns. It made Geo’s gut churn, how many names there were.

  “To Jon Robinson,” Lennox called out. “Helluva SEAL, helluva friend.”

  Next to Geo, Matt stiffened, his knuckles whitening around his glass. A muscle ticked in his jaw, nostrils flaring.

  Geo stared at him. Jesus. What was the story there?

  Matt’s stony face didn’t invite any questions, so Geo glanced away, his chest hollowing out as he realized it was almost his turn to toast.

  Myriad names and faces flashed before his mind’s eye—guys taken too soon. They’d been men he’d looked up to, men he’d loved, men he’d gladly trade places with if he could. They were heroes, every single one of them, and Geo would miss them for the rest of his life.

  But none as much as Cade.

  Geo’s mouth dried up, his pulse throbbing behind his eyes, all the alcohol he’d drunk sloshing its way through his veins. Why shouldn’t he toast Cade? Cade was as deserving as anyone, his exploits legendary in the special operations medics community. Geo had seen him run through a hail of gunfire to reach the wounded, cover shattered bodies with his own as the enemy closed in...

  That’s what he should be remembered for, goddammit! Nothing else, and damn if Geo wasn’t going to try to keep his memory alive.

  “Who you got, Georgie?”

  His heart thundering, Geo glanced around the group, then raised his half-empty beer glass. “To Cade Barlow—”

  Before he could even get the words out, Lennox thumped his glass on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. Geo rocketed up and out of his seat. “What’s the matter, sir? My toast not good enough for you?”

  Lennox shrugged. “I don’t toast cowards.”

  “No, only rapists.” Matt’s grunt barely registered over the roaring in Geo’s ears.

  He leaned across the table and got right in Lennox’s face. “Whatever your personal feelings about his death,” he hissed, “I’m toasting a friend, and what I’d appreciate is a little goddamn respect while I do so.”

  “Friend?” Lennox smirked, a malicious light in his eyes. “Some friend, huh, Monteverdi? That’s not what I heard. I heard you egged him on—”

  With a howl of rage and pain, Geo swung at him...and missed. In the next instant he was flat on his back, breath knocked out of him by Lennox’s vicious tackle. Years of resentment, and contempt, burst into flame, with Geo’s guilt acting like gasoline thrown on a campfire. His second punch didn’t miss, slamming into Lennox’s jaw with a satisfying crunch.

  Lennox roared and returned the favor, and Geo’s head bounced off the floor so hard he saw stars. Before he could regroup, strong hands pulled him to his feet, arms like steel bands around his shoulders.

  “Let me go,” he shouted at Matt and Alex, his struggles futile against their iron grip. Across from him, other guys had Lennox similarly wrapped up, and amidst the demands from the bartenders to “Get ’em outta here, now,” they were both muscled outside.

  In the parking lot, Geo broke free, but his head still rang from the blow and the beer, and he staggered. Lennox yanked against his bonds, the guys holding him fast, spittle spraying from his mouth as he bellowed, “I’ll have your Trident for this! I’ll fuckin’ take your Trident and shove it up your ass!”

  Still shouting, he was dragged away.

  Dimly, Geo felt Matt’s arm slide around his waist. He sagged against him, nausea and emotion clogging his chest, the toxic brew suddenly surging into his throat in a sickening wave that had him jerking away.

  Dropping to his knees, then all fours, Geo vomited in heave after wrenching heave. Matt knelt next to him, his hand between his shoulder blades, firm and warm.

  “Stop it,” Geo choked. “Go away.”

  “No.”

  “God—dammit—”

  “Swim buddies, remember?” Matt whispered. “Not going anywhere.”

  With his stomach finally emptied, he collapsed on his side, away from the mess. After waiting a moment to let him catch his breath, Matt coaxed him to standing and helped him to a nearby bench.

  The platoon’s medic jogged over and crouched at his feet. “You hit your noggin pretty hard, Geo. I’m worried you might have a concussion.”

  Gut still churning, Geo submitted to a quick exam, his head drooping as the medic gave Matt instructions on what to look for during what remained of the night. “Keep a close eye on him, and call me if he vomits again.”

  “Roger that.”

  After the medic had gotten up, Alex took his place. “You know Parnell’s gonna call for a Trident review board,” he said without preamble.

  “I know.” Geo pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed hard. “What are the chances he’ll get my bird pulled?”

  After all, he’d swung first. He’d let his anger get the best of him, and now Lennox could end his career. With Geo’s Trident yanked from him, he’d be sent out into the fleet, his life as a SEAL over.

  Oh, my God. What have I done?

  “We’ll figure something out,” Alex said softly. “I’m gonna sleep on it, so let’s meet with the El-Tee in the morning, okay?”

  At Geo’s miserable nod, Alex squeezed his knee and stood. Matt turned to Geo. “C’mon, bud. Let’s get you home.”

  Home? Geo’s eyes stung. Yeah, right. Another transient barracks in yet another city—white walls, industrial-grade linoleum, bleach-scented sheets, lumpy pillows. Some home.

  They were silent as they trudged down the sidewalk, Matt not touching him but sticking close in case he stumbled. Once in the room, he sat on the closed toilet lid while Geo showered.

  “I’m fine, Matt,” he croaked at one point. “Really.”

  Matt shook his head stubbornly. “Swim buddies,” was all he said.

  “You gonna crawl in bed with me, too?” Geo kept up the grousing as he pulled on some boxer
briefs and yanked back the covers. He curled up on his side, his back to Matt.

  Matt didn’t say anything, just filled a glass with water and put it on the nightstand, his hand coming to rest briefly on Geo’s shoulder. The comforting touch brought more tears rushing to his eyes. He choked them back, his head throbbing, and listened to the quiet rustle as Matt undressed and slipped into his own bed.

  “I’m here if you need me,” Matt said quietly, then switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, except for the soft glow of his phone. He wouldn’t sleep, Geo knew—he’d stay awake in order to check on him periodically, a swim buddy to the core.

  “I’m sorry,” he mouthed into his pillow. I’m sorry, Matt. I’m sorry, Cade. Oh, God, I’m so fucking sorry.

  To his horror, an audible sob broke from his chest. He stiffened, but Matt didn’t rush to his side or demand to know what was wrong.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, and when Geo croaked a “No,” he murmured, “Okay. I’m here if you do.”

  “Thanks, bud,” Geo managed, burying his face in his pillow. How could he ever talk about the night Cade died, what he’d seen? What he’d done?

  Or not done.

  Suppressing another sob, Geo twisted his fists in the pillow, trying not to gasp under the weight of the grief and remorse crushing him. He’d had a chance. For one brief moment in time, he’d had a chance to stop the course of events that’d led to Cade eating that bullet.

  But he hadn’t.

  And living with that was proving to be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “We’ve given this a lot of thought, George.”

  Still weak and shaky, his head pounding like a bitch, Geo stood at attention in front of Alex and the officer-in-charge, a newly minted lieutenant not long out of the Naval Academy. Like all Academy grads, the lieutenant carried himself with the sort of polish that made Geo think of a politician.

  A lot of the enlisted guys distrusted him for that, but Geo saw a thoughtful, deliberate man underneath the Academy veneer. In his opinion, the dude would make an outstanding leader someday, so Geo’d done his best to ease the lieutenant’s transition into the platoon.