SEAL's Promise - Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 01 Page 11

  Sadness crept over her like an old shawl. She took in a deep breath and found it helped when she let out all the air.

  “This okay to talk about, honey? Don’t want to upset you.”

  “No. I have to get used to it.”

  “Yeah. Helps me too, in a way. My promise to Frankie was to make sure his little girl knows him as her daddy. I intend to tell her lots of things about Frankie, the censored things, of course,” he said with a warm smile.

  She nodded and searched the remnants of her salad. “I’m moving forward, just not always easy.”

  “Roger that, Shannon. I’m right there with you.”

  She loved looking into his cool blue eyes, experiencing his passion and his pain. He was a package containing two powerful forces. What does he see when he looks at me?

  “I’m grateful that I have you to walk me through this. Unfortunately, I suppose you have been through this before—I mean, losing a Team guy.”

  “Yes, but this time is different, sweetheart.” He came over to where she sat atop the stool and smoothed a lock of hair back behind her ear. “You being here is helping me too. And in a strange kind of way, the promise I made to Frankie is helping too. Maybe he knew that, Shannon. Maybe that’s why he made me promise him.”

  She gripped his forearm, feeling the corded veins covering powerful muscles. She let her palm glide over the dark hairs, then travel over his bicep and slip around his neck. “Thank you. Thank you for loving me, and loving our baby.”

  He massaged the top of her spine the way she loved. “My pleasure, sweetheart. My mission in life. Always will be. I’m never going to leave you, Shannon. I promise.”

  It caught her up short, tears spilling over her cheeks at the complex mixture of pain and the pleasure. She had a past she still mourned, but also a bright future. Remembering the past and anticipating the future was making her tired. Or perhaps it was the pregnancy.

  Little Courtney kicked, a stunning reminder of her baby’s demands to have a future more compelling than her past. Shannon smiled, and patted T.J.’s broad hand against her belly, disregarding the shadows that lurked. Courtney’s coming was slowly stretching her, expanding her capacity to feel. Her love for her baby, and now the new love for this fine warrior were helping her heal the pain of Frankie’s absence.

  He pointed to her nearly finished salad, and she nodded, yes, she was done.

  After he rinsed her bowl, he washed his hands and came around the counter to take her hand in his, leading her to the bedroom. “Cinderella has left the ball. She is going to go take a nap,” he said to the spirits in the walls of the bungalow.

  She followed behind him, loving that he towed her, drew her to the bed, like he was drawing her to the rest of her life. With T.J. she felt secure. Unafraid of whatever was coming next.

  She slipped off her shoes and undid her drawstring pants so she could sleep loose inside her clothes. He’d pulled back the covers, and after she crawled in, he rested on top of the covers, holding her body through the comforter. He kissed the back of her neck, and tangled his fingers in hers. She found herself matching his breathing.

  “What was it like for you growing up in all those foster homes?”

  “Frankie never told you?”

  “No. He said you never talked about it.”

  “He lied, Shannon. It was nothing like the life Courtney will have, I can assure you that. Made me a man at fourteen. You don’t want to know all the details. Boring, really.”

  “I want to know. Tell me.” She felt him tense behind her. “When you’re ready to tell me. I want to know everything about you, T.J. I need to know.”

  “Well my parents, they say, weren’t married and were young. I suppose I could feel grateful they placed me for adoption rather than, you know, the other choice.”

  “Did you go looking for them?”

  “Nope. All I know is they lived somewhere in the South. And from then on, my foster caretakers—whatever they felt like telling me, told me stories. I don’t think anybody really knew. I was told my mother was beautiful, a lady, but they were very poor. My dad was a war hero they said. Who really knows? What kind of hero abandons his child?”

  “Maybe he didn’t know. Happens.”

  “Like I said, the stories I was told are contradictory. As a kid I used to wonder what it would be like if they came, together, a couple, you know. It’s every orphan’s dream. I would lie there on my bed, look out at the stars and wonder if they were looking at the stars too, wondered if they ever thought about me. Ever.”

  Shannon was moved to tears again, but let them travel silently down her cheeks so T.J. wouldn’t see them. Her life had been so different, but there was some toughness that had developed in her that matched T.J.

  “I knew it was folly. Knew at the time it was just what I told myself to keep from crying at night, acting like a girl. It would take a while before I liked girls.” The rumble of his chuckle rolled over her and nested in her heart.

  “I can just see you lying on that bed looking up at the stars, T.J. I used to stare out at the lights and wonder whom I would fall in love with. Who would I marry? I didn’t have your kind of childhood, but I still wanted a handsome prince to come whisk me away, take my vanilla life and ignite it. Take me away from the organized and ordinary and make it sparkle.”

  “I’m gonna work on that, babe. I’m gonna perfect that.”

  “You already have done a pretty good job, T.J.”

  She fell asleep dreaming of what it would be like when the baby was born, when she’d get to meet her little Courtney, hold her, and pass her into T.J.’s waiting arms.

  SHE AWOKE TO the sounds of T.J. tapping on his computer keys. The nap had freshened her. She cinched her pants up, brushed her hair and put it up in a clip. Examining her face in the mirror, she saw her skin was pinker, and perhaps a little fuller, but she looked good. She looked rested, and for the first time in many weeks, content.

  The T.J. effect was definitely good for her. She tiptoed to the hallway and watched him work on the computer, intent, focused. The man could do anything and it looked sexy.

  Little Courtney kicked as if she agreed.

  Shhh, Courtney. You’re way too young to have such thoughts.

  The baby kicked again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‡

  T.J. TOOK SHANNON to a dance recital held by the wife of one of his Team buddies. Italian-American Sophia Beale was married to one of T.J.’s best friends, Mark. They’d met in Italy, where Sophia was living, before the two happened to find themselves on the same cruise ship. Their one night stand in Italy bloomed into a happily ever after while crossing the Atlantic, even surviving an attempted terrorist takeover.

  The dance space was located adjacent Gunny’s Gym, now owned and operated by the widow of the newly deceased Gunnery Sergeant. Amornpan had come all the way from Thailand to care for the aging Marine in his final days.

  “Amornpan is Thai, a really beautiful woman,” T.J. explained to Shannon. “Sanouk told us she never stopped loving old crusty Gunny, who used to describe her as an angel of the jungle.”

  “Who is Sanouk?” Shannon asked.

  “He’s the son Gunny didn’t get to meet until his last year here. He got Amornpan pregnant when he was a young man in Thailand, but he never knew it.”

  Shannon nodded, frowning.

  “Sort of a fact of life, really. Military guys do this all the time, litter the world with babies. I have friends that have four or five kids with like three different women, never marrying any of them.”

  Shannon’s eyes were round with disapproval.

  “Not me, Shannon. Never me.”

  “That you know of.”

  “Well, there is that.” T.J. wondered why he’d even brought it up. Then he remembered. “Sophia has hired a bunch of instructors, from ballroom to belly dancing and everything in between. Sophia of course does all the Latin jazz, tango and most of the ballroom instruction. Amornpan teaches Eas
tern and some Middle Eastern dances and gives traditional Thai performances.”

  Shannon clutched his hand, weaving her fingers through his as they walked to the studio doors. Exotic reed, flute and drum music echoed out into the street.

  “They’re all going to perform today, along with some of their best students.”

  “You’re going to get up there and shake your fanny if I call you to the floor, T.J.”

  He stopped so quickly, Shannon’s huge belly rammed into his backside. “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “I’ve seen your moves. I’ll bet you are a good dancer,” she said to him, lips quirking into a smile.

  This did please him. “As a matter of fact, I am rather good at it.”

  “I’m going to make you prove it.”

  He rolled his eyes and bent down to kiss her delicately, which got them both so distracted a skateboarder nearly hit them. The softness of her lips, sucking his, the placement of her hand at the buttons of his jeans were two of the little things he loved the most about how she loved him. She was never afraid to show affection for him. It filled a huge hole in his soul that someone so fine would find him so continually attractive. Made him want to think of dark corners and long nights with the crickets chirping in one of those no-name towns he grew up in.

  He felt so lucky to be alive, and ached that it was his place to be with her now, not Frankie. That sadness never went away.

  The music got loud when someone opened the doors.

  “T.J. get your hands off that woman and get your butt in here,” Timmons’ gravely voice boomed just like T.J. remembered. “Glad to see you dressed proper, at least. Why, hello, Shannon.”

  Their old Chief, now retired, had taken an extra interest in the gym, and in Amornpan in particular. TJ opened the door wider to allow space for Shannon’s large frame to get through.

  “Timmons, you dressed up, too,” she said to the older SEAL.

  “I’ve been told I clean up real good. Sort of a special day for us here at the studio.”

  Shannon hesitated, like she was going to ask him about the “us” but T.J. gently pushed on her, and they brushed past his former liaison officer.

  “Git yer butt over there by Mark and Nick,” Timmons said, pointing.

  T.J. had wanted to say something to Timmons about his new passion for working out, but was feeling so lighthearted, he didn’t want to embarrass the man and ruin the mood for himself. He showed Shannon to a wooden folding chair next to Nick. Mark sat on the other side.

  “Nick, how long are you down here for?”

  “Just for the jump school course. Then back up to Sonoma County. We’re in the middle of harvest. I shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Glad to see you decided to stay in, my friend. We need guys like you,” T.J. answered.

  “Can you tell my intended?”

  That caught Shannon’s attention. “Good job, Nick,” she said as she winked at him.

  “Not like it’s any secret. We’ve been living together for over six months now. This next workup will be our first real separation. We’d like to get married before that happens.”

  “What’s your date?” Shannon asked.

  “How about three weeks from today?”

  T.J. whistled involuntarily. He leaned into Mark. “We have some serious planning to do, my web-foot friend.”

  Mark nodded with his arms crossed and shot T.J. with his imaginary forefinger shooter. When he turned back to Shannon it surprised him that she was frowning and staring into space, her face in profile. But T.J. could see the grimace and knew there were some unhappy memories. For his part, he’d never seen Shannon as lovely as she had been as a bride, and could now admit that was the day he fell in love with her. But he knew her memories of him were much different than that.

  With an arm around her shoulder, he still managed to get his lips close to her ear. “Honey, I’ve changed.”

  The look she gave him, her doe eyes tearing up slightly but unwavering, told him he was going to have to work a lot harder at the convincing thing.

  “I have,” he insisted again and followed it up with a kiss to her cheek. He didn’t notice the room had gotten silent, and someone had cut the house lights. A heavy-set woman in the row in front of them turned around and squinted.

  “Shush,” she said, reading him up and down.

  T.J. rolled his neck and avoided Shannon’s glare as the music began with a romantic ballad for a tango. Mark’s girlfriend, Sophia, began a sultry number in her red form-fitting dress that left nothing to the imagination. Her dark hair was neatly gathered in a tight bun to the side of her face, adorned with a large bright red poppy matching the color of her full lips. The crowd was hushed. Mark sat with his eyebrows raised, and T.J. could see the beginnings of a crooked grin forming in spite of his tense jaw muscles. T.J. smiled too, and just as their eyes met, Shannon gave him another jab in the ribs.

  Well, of course Shannon would be a little sensitive about her less than flat tummy. In her near-term condition, she couldn’t move about the dance floor with such ease and grace. T.J. wrapped his long arm over her thin shoulder and squeezed her to him. “You’re the most beautiful woman in here, babe,” he whispered.

  “Not that,” she whispered, as the woman in front of them sighed and fidgeted. “Look.” She pointed to a cluster of red-ruffled young girls with black low-heeled shoes similar to Sophia’s. The oldest among them appeared not to be beyond six years, and two of them were barely out of diapers. When the music ended, Sophia took her bow to a standing ovation, and the cloud of red chiffon raced to take positions encircling her legs.

  With arms raised above their heads, waiting for the music to begin, the young girls surveyed the crowd with wide dark eyes, glitter spray sparkling in their hair and over their young cherubic faces. As the Latin beat began, they twirled and strutted with remarkable skill, with only an occasional mishap. The audience spontaneously clapped in rhythm to the music, which seemed to foster enthusiasm among the young dancers eager to perform.

  At last, the youngsters and their teacher were given a standing ovation. The group performed another routine and the girls were released to sit with their parents in the audience.

  T.J. could see the excitement in Shannon’s eyes, and he knew their little Courtney would someday take lessons here. “I can just imagine how cute she’ll be,” T.J. said, as he pulled several flowing curls back behind Shannon’s ear. “She’ll probably be the tallest, too!” Shannon nodded with a smile on her lips.

  Sophia directed a series of partnered dances with the older children. There being a lack of boys in the class, most of the “couples” were two girls dancing together.

  A modern jazz troupe with ragged clothing performed a difficult choreographed set of numbers, ending in a swing-fest the audience loved.

  At last the music turned distinctly Eastern, and the house lights were turned down low. With the audience dark, a spotlight flashed on the golden vision of Amornpan, encrusted in a costume that looked like exotic chainmail. Atop her head was a headdress, over a foot tall. Her heavily painted features made her look like a china doll, T.J. thought. Just as with Sophia’s performance, Amornpan moved with the grace and skill of a world-class dancer, her arms forming graceful angles, her head tilting horizontally as her fingers twisted backward, playing small bells and finger cymbals.

  Nothing about the costume, the sounds or the dancing were familiar. T.J. found himself holding his breath in spite of the fact that this woman was old enough to be his mother. Her grace and beauty rivaled any twenty year old’s. He found Timmons standing in the shadows in the back corner transfixed, arms crossed, and his face unreadable. T.J. knew the man’s private thoughts were deep. He was happy for him.

  After the performance, several of the SEALs and their wives and girlfriends went to a local microbrewery that also played sports on big screen TVs. Mark and Sophia were talkative, chattering and kissing, while feeding each other finger food. Timmons dropped by with Sanouk. Kyle an
d Christie were there, as were several others, including Fredo and Mia.

  They all stopped and observed a news bulletin that interrupted the ball game announcing a terrorist beheading of another male American journalist, along with a female aid worker.

  The American journalist was captured over a year ago and several attempts to locate and free the man and two others, were unsuccessful. Another aid worker from the U.K was executed a month ago.

  The Team guys shook their heads, taking short looks at each other as they shared their private thoughts in mixed company. Team business was never discussed in front of the wives unless absolutely necessary. Since there was little chance they’d be deployed sooner than three months, all they could do was register their disgust, but T.J. knew everyone was thinking the same thing. The groups were getting bolder and bolder. It wouldn’t take long before some of these actions would take place on American soil. And that meant innocents would be targeted.

  The announcer came on and showed a scratchy sign written in Arabic. Jones squinted and swore, being the most fluent in Pashto. T.J. could recognize some characters and saw the distinctive “U.S” letters on the sign.

  “The threat is considered credible. Members of the military and their families are being targeted. No one is safe, no matter where they live. No one.

  The announcer signed off, and the news station made a brief statement T.J. couldn’t make out, and then the ball game went back on. Most everyone was looking into their water glasses and beers, but as if on cue they looked over to Kyle.

  “Well, there’s no fuckin’ thing we can do about it right now, so let’s toast to Sophia and Mark. Hooya!” Kyle boomed.