SEAL Strong

by Cat Johnson

  Christ, he was going to have to move if, by some stretch of the imagination, he got hired and had to start working here, because a three hour commute, each way, without traffic, wasn’t a battle he wanted to fight on a daily basis.

  “So tell me, Silas, what made you interested in a position here,” Director Chavez asked.

  The answer to that question was that he wasn’t interested in a position there. A nine-to-five desk job—he honestly couldn’t imagine anything worse.

  Maybe he should apply at a sporting goods store or something. At least then he’d be moving around, up on his feet, and he could play with all the knives and bows and hunting rifles.

  Yeah, that’s what he’d do. Just a nice part-time job, a few days a week to get him out of the apartment so he didn’t lose his mind.

  Happy with that plan, Silas turned his attention back to the interview he had to get through before he could get the hell out of there and go find something to eat. He’d been awake and driving for hours and he was starving.

  But he still needed to answer Chavez’s question and probably many more, before this interview would be over. Time to get creative.

  Short and sweet seemed to be the way to go. “Well, sir, I recently left the Navy.”

  “Yes. I see that.” The director referred to the paper in his hand. “Quite an impressive resumé you’ve got. And even more impressive are the letters of recommendation.”

  Baffled, he said, “Uh. Thank you, sir.”

  What letters of recommendation? Silas hadn’t asked anyone for those.

  Maggie.

  She must have gotten them. She was a friend of his commander’s wife. They took yoga classes or something together. That had to be it.

  Christ, how pitiful was it that his ex-wife had to jump through hoops and call in favors from every part of her life to get him a job because he was now too useless to be an active duty SEAL any longer.

  If Silas wasn’t deeply depressed before, he was now.

  The man raised his gaze from the paper and back to Silas. “I think a man with your experience would be of huge value to our agency.”

  “You do?” he asked, sounding as shocked as he felt.

  And what exactly did this agency do?

  Silas probably should have researched that. That he didn’t was proof he hadn’t taken this interview at all seriously.

  It was also proof of how much his life had changed because while in the teams he never would have gone anywhere without knowing every detail.

  Preparation was the key to success, in the teams and in life.

  Obviously he hadn’t wanted or expected success here today. All he’d done to prepare was punch the address into his GPS and decide which route would have the least amount of traffic.

  The director smiled. “I do. What is your availability?”

  “Availability for what, sir?” he asked.

  For another interview with another director maybe? Shit, that meant he’d have to make this drive again.

  “To begin your employment. I’m assuming you’ll need to find a rental locally for during the week. A lot of our staff have apartments in the capital region for the work week, then travel to be with their families on weekends.”

  Silas cocked his head. Chavez must not know about the divorce.

  Maggie didn’t work out of the headquarters or for this particular agency. And since she had, for now, kept his last name, Silas supposed there was no reason for the man to think they weren’t still married.

  Especially since she’d apparently pulled quite a few strings at DHS to get him this interview. That’s not something exes tended to do for each other.

  If, by some stretch of the imagination, he was going to make a second career for himself at DHS working under this man, he had to be open and honest.

  Silas cleared his throat. “Um, well, my wife and I recently divorced and . . .” This part was going to hurt like hell to voice aloud. “We don’t have any children. So traveling home each weekend won’t be a concern. But just so I’m clear, you’re saying I’m hired?” Silas asked.

  Chavez nodded. “The position is yours, if you want it.”

  “Oh.” Silas frowned, taken off guard by what he never expected to happen—getting hired for a position he wasn’t sure he wanted. “I, uh, don’t have to have a second interview? Or, meet with someone else at DHS first?”

  Chavez let out a short laugh. “No. Unbelievable, perhaps, given the amount of red tape that usually exists in all levels of government, but the Secretary actually trusts me to make the hiring decisions for positions within my agency.”

  Silas swallowed. “And what exactly would my position be?”

  Best find out what he’d be agreeing to in case he did accept this surreal job offer.

  “Strategic Operations and Planning Officer.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Wow. That’s quite a title.”

  It was certainly a mouthful and sounded pretty damn important. If only he knew what it entailed.

  Chavez smiled. “It is overly wordy, I’ll admit. But your responsibilities would be pretty straightforward. You’d monitor the information gathered by the intelligence side and the law enforcement side of our office and coordinate response activities accordingly.”

  “Oh.” Silas nodded. “Okay.”

  Jesus, was he even qualified to do all that?

  “Does that mean you accept?” Chavez asked.

  Silas let out a short laugh. If they really wanted him, why not?

  He was quick to learn and could think on his feet. The SEALs had certainly honed that skill in him. And Chavez must think he was a good candidate for the position or he wouldn’t have made the offer.

  What the hell. He’d give it a try. He’d done crazier things in his life.

  Feeling a confidence he probably had no right to, Silas said, “Yes, sir. I accept.”

  “Happy to have you on board, Silas.” Chavez smiled as he stood and extended his hand.

  Silas stood as well and reached across the desk. He returned the smile while pumping the director’s hand. “Happy to be here, sir.”

  The shock of it was, for the first time in a while, Silas actually was. Happy.

  CHAPTER 9

  The moment Silas’s ass hit the seat inside his truck in the parking lot he had his cell phone’s browser open and was punching Department of Homeland Security into the search field.

  Yeah, he should have done this last week when the interview was first scheduled. No, he hadn’t bothered. Yes, he was ashamed of that fact.

  Moving on, he read the search results on the screen, hitting one to expand it.

  The Department of Homeland Security works in the civilian sphere to protect the United States within, at, and outside its borders.

  Hmm. Not a whole lot different than what he’d done with the military.

  Next he punched in DHS Office of Operations Coordination. He skimmed the very long description that came up.

  Words and phrases on the screen stood out from among the rest and caught his eye. Words that told him what he’d be dealing with, such as classified information, situational awareness and response activities, and whom he’d be working with, like private sector critical infrastructure operators and international partners.

  Maybe this position wouldn’t be so foreign to him.

  Maggie wasn’t crazy for putting him in for it. What the agency dealt with—evaluating, planning and coordinating to protect against threats—was right in Silas’s wheelhouse.

  He drove away from the parking lot in a daze.

  It took him until he was on the highway and headed back to Virginia to fully wrap his head around it.

  He had a job. He had no idea what exactly he’d be doing or what his hours were but he had a pretty impressive job title and an appointment with the human resources department in two weeks. He also had a week of training scheduled for right after his intake meeting.

  What he didn’t already know, he’d learn then, he supposed.
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  A smile bowed his lips as a bubble of excitement grew inside.

  Being trapped behind the steering wheel of the truck for the next three hours was going to kill him. He needed to tell somebody. Share the good news.

  The one person who came to mind, the one person he should tell because she’d made it all happen, was Maggie.

  It was just common courtesy to call her since she’d arranged for the interview. She was probably wondering what had happened.

  Happy with that sound reasoning for calling his ex-wife, Silas hit her name in his contacts list and put the cell on speakerphone as it rang.

  When the ringing stopped, her sweet voice filled the truck as she said, “Silas. Hi. How did it go?”

  He didn’t make her wait for an answer as he smiled. “I got the job.”

  “Oh my God! You did?”

  “Yup. I’m not exactly sure what the job is.” He chuckled. “But I figure whatever it is, I’ll find out soon enough. I start in two weeks.”

  “Holy cow. That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you. But two weeks isn’t all that long. You’re going to look for a place to live closer, right?”

  “Yeah, I have to. This commute would suck.”

  “Any commute in and around D.C. sucks but I agree. You have to move closer. Oh my God, I’m so excited for you. Where are you now?”

  “In the truck three hours away.” And grateful he had satellite radio and cruise control for the long drive.

  “Three hours. I’ll be home from work about the time you hit town. Do you want to come over? I’ve got beef stroganoff in the slow cooker. We could celebrate by looking at some apartment listings online for you. I know the residential areas pretty well. I’ve had to help some of the new hires find housing.”

  Dinner with Maggie twice in as many weeks. It was a horrible idea, but when he opened his mouth, he said, “Sure. I’d love to.”

  He blamed his weakness on the fact he loved her beef stroganoff, to the point he’d even attempted making it on his own.

  He’d failed miserably at it but hers was always perfect. There was probably some deep symbolism in that.

  He chose not to explore it as he added, “I’ll pick up a bottle of Malbec on my way over.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  “Sure. No problem.” He hated that he knew, and more cared, that her favorite wine was Malbec from the Mendoza region of Argentina. Hated it as much as the fact he, a beer drinker, had started to drink it, and like it too, because of her.

  It was a damn good thing he’d have to find an apartment closer to D.C. because this—this whole new strange dynamic between him and Maggie—wasn’t doing him any good.

  He didn’t want to be her friend. He didn’t want to be her buddy. He wanted to be her husband. Her lover. The love of her life. The man who put a smile on her face in the morning and had her screaming his name each night.

  But all this new stuff—hugging goodbye at the door and sharing meals and good news—wasn’t going to cut it.

  Nope. All it did was give him hope. Hope he didn’t want to feel.

  Experience had taught him one thing—the path to Hell was paved with hope.

  In spite of that, he hit the accelerator and reset his cruise control for ten miles an hour above the speed limit so he’d get there faster.

  Yup. He was definitely on the downhill slope on the road to Hell.

  He’d obsessively checked his cell for texts from her since their pizza date. He was racing to get to her now. He’d even started dreaming about her. Dreams that had him waking sweaty and hard and unsatisfied.

  There weren’t enough miles between Virginia Beach and Washington, D.C. to save him from himself but at least it was a start.

  Silas arrived at Maggie’s door a few hours later, a bottle of wine in his hand.

  There was also a bottle of bourbon he’d picked up and stashed in the truck for later. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

  After spending time with her, it felt even more lonely in his apartment.

  He reached up to ring the bell. It was just as surreal to ring the doorbell of his former home as it was to enter by the front door instead of pulling the truck into the driveway and going in through the garage.

  Of all the many liberties he’d lost in the divorce, why was he lamenting about his right to enter through the back? Given the new and disturbing sex dreams he’d been having almost nightly about Maggie, he was obviously missing his marital privileges the most.

  She pulled the door open and launched into his arms. “Congratulations!”

  He sucked in a breath and patted her back with his one empty hand. “Uh, thanks.”

  Pulling his pelvis a safe distance away from her, he was happy when she broke the embrace and waved him inside.

  “Come on in. I snuck out of work early and I’ve been online. I’ve found some great options for you that are commuting distance to DHS headquarters.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  It was enough to give a man whiplash having her pressed up against him one minute and then pushing him to move to a city three hours away the next.

  Apparently Maggie had no problem with their new status as friends. Which was odd since it wasn’t even six months ago that he’d asked her if she’d wanted to grab a bite and she’d said no.

  But she had said then that one day they might be able to be friends.

  Apparently one day had arrived, for her at least, but not for him. She’d been right to begin with. This exes as friends bullshit was too confusing.

  He followed her to the kitchen and moved directly to the drawer where the utensils were kept. The corkscrew was tucked inside, just as it always had been.

  So much had changed, while so much remained the same.

  Irrationally annoyed by that reality, Silas jammed the sharp metal end into the cork, attacking it with unnecessary vigor while Maggie moved to her computer, still chatting about real estate.

  She’d bent at the waist to see the screen, obviously too excited to sit in the chair as she spewed addresses and square footage at him. Meanwhile, all he could concentrate on was how amazing her heart-shaped ass looked and how he wanted to yank those pants down and take her right there, bent over the kitchen table.

  Shit.

  He grabbed a wine glass and filled it, downing half before he took the time to grab a glass for her from the cabinet.

  It was going to be a long evening and a long two weeks until he started that job. He couldn’t get away from the temptation of the woman he couldn’t have soon enough.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Si.”

  Silas turned to see Chavez leaning into the open doorway of his office. “Sir?”

  “I’m on my way to an interagency meeting that I’d like you to sit in on.”

  “Um, all right. Sure. I’m at your disposal.” He closed the lid of his laptop putting to sleep the machine he spent far too many waking moments staring at.

  As they walked shoulder-to-shoulder down the hall, Chavez glanced sideways at Silas. “Sorry for the lack of advance warning.”

  In his ten months at DHS, Silas was getting used to that. Things moved surprisingly fast here.

  “It’s no problem. Anything you need, I’ll make it happen.”

  Chavez smiled. “That’s what I love about you. You’re a real team player.”

  A burst of a laugh escaped Silas. “That’s kind of instilled within us in the teams.”

  “I suppose it would be. Yes.” The man grinned. “I’m just not used to it. The leadership in this town seems to be playing for their own team.”

  Silas knew what Chavez was referring to but chose not to comment on it. He wasn’t going to step into that political minefield willingly. To date, he’d managed to avoid it.

  It wasn’t too hard to do—not take sides or get political.

  In the service, he’d fought for the red, white and blue of the stars and stripes.

  He was still a SEAL in his heart, even though he was m
edically retired, and as such he fought on the side of freedom against those who would do that ideal harm around the world and within the borders of the United States and its territories.

  In politics however, it did seem to be red versus blue, as if the two couldn’t coexist peacefully.

  “Do you mind if I ask what this meeting is?” Silas asked as the walk down the hallway stretched on.

  Chavez paused at the elevator and pushed the button. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  And with that, Silas’s line of questioning was shut down.

  Stepping inside the elevator, Chavez pushed the button for the next level up, while Silas wondered why they hadn’t just taken the stairs that were right outside his office.

  He could feel his muscles atrophy as he sat at that damn desk in the cushy chair with the perfect lumbar support that actually felt good on his back.

  His desk job was one reason he went for a run every morning, rain or shine, before showering and heading in to work.

  DHS might have turned him into a desk jockey, but it didn’t mean he had to feel or look like one.

  Chavez led the way down the second hallway of their journey in silence. He finally stopped in front of an office and reached for the knob. Opening the door, he motioned for Silas to walk in ahead of him.

  As Silas complied, he found a clue as to why he was in this meeting, because among a dozen others, Maggie was seated at the table.

  He swallowed hard and tried to erase his reaction from his expression.

  In the months since he’d been hired, the months since he’d worked his way up in the agency to take on more and more responsibilities, he’d avoided Maggie with every ounce of restraint within him.

  It was the only way to keep his sanity.

  It took about a month after he relocated to D.C. for him to realize he couldn’t continue to stalk her movements on Facebook or Instagram to look for hints of what she was doing . . . and with whom. He couldn’t keep texting her with any excuse he could find ranging from saying thanks—again—for getting him the interview, to asking about the weather because he saw a storm moving in on her area.