Fallen SEAL Legacy Page 4

  A surfer.

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s the reason I’m here.”

  “It’s a little late for a color guard. He get awarded a medal posthumously or something?”

  The sailor stepped back and put his eyelids at half-mast after a flash of anger. He appeared way calmer than she knew he really was. The control was impressive. No matter how hard she looked, the anger did not surface again. He licked his lips and began to speak, softer this time.

  “Look. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me, so let’s just get this over with, so I can tell my Chief I tried to reach out and you guys slammed the door in my face, okay?”

  Maybe she was being stupid, but somehow she trusted him. This wasn’t the wrinkle she’d expected. “Fine.” She removed the chain, opened the door and the muscled giant walked into her home with quiet, fluid strides. He smelled like he’d just figured out how to wear aftershave. Something told her he didn’t do it very often.

  He scanned the large two-story living room with its carved wood ceiling done in Spanish florets. His eyes lit on the three-foot tall bouquet of fresh flowers her mother put on the coffee table every day—bounty from her extensive flower garden. Libby didn’t expect to see him smile. Behind the table, a bright red velvet couch was covered with lime and fuchsia-colored silk flowered pillows. No one ever sat there, Libby mused. If they did, they’d be buried in the pillows, and hidden from view by the bouquet.

  She was embarrassed by the brightness of the colors. “My mother takes pride in her flower garden.” She finally said. Why had he been staring at the blooms?

  He tore his eyes off the display, and, without saying a word, continued to scan the archway that led to the kitchen, then back around to the walls of the foyer and a view of the grand metal staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms.

  His silence made her nervous. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to say something.

  “This is about a hundred times the size of my place.” He regarded her with a crooked smile she couldn’t read. “Kinda like living in a church, although not like any church I ever attended.”

  Our house looks like a church?

  “I assume you live on base?” she asked.

  “No ma’am. I have a motor home I keep parked at the Silverdale Beach.”

  “Wow.” A homeless Navy SEAL?

  “Exactly. Got the whole ocean as my back yard.”

  “Sounds—different.”

  “It’s all I need.”

  “Okay. Well, what’s this about? Your visit, I mean.”

  “I’m here to pay my respects to his family. Will Brownlee’s family. Was there anyone else special in his life? Like, was he married, or did he have a girl?”

  Libby blinked twice. They had never discussed whether Uncle Will had had a sweetheart. “We are his family. I just never knew him.” She realized she was being short. “My grandparents are both gone, and my father was his only brother, so perhaps he would know. My dad worshiped him.” Libby started tracing the grout line of the marble floor with her toe. “Look, I’m going to need some answers here. You have to kind of spell it out for me. We don’t speak military in this house.”

  “I can tell.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You don’t speak military, and I didn’t bring an interpreter.”

  “I think you should speak to my father.”

  “That would be good.”

  “Except he isn’t here. Maybe another time?”

  She caught him eyeing the front of her cotton shirt, like he could see right through without unbuttoning it. With an involuntary jerk, he was focused on her eyes again. It was very odd that she didn’t feel afraid of him, like she had every other man lately. Her heartbeat elevated and her breathing became shallow.

  “When will he be here?” His voice sent a tingle down her spine.

  “He gets home about four-thirty. But I wouldn’t waste your time unless you can tell me what you want.” She started for the door and he followed behind her. At the front, she stopped, and turned around. “I’m waiting.” She tapped her foot to an invisible drummer.

  The giant nodded, but faced his own shoes as he responded to her command, “I’ve been asked to do a little research on S.O. Brownlee. It’s an order.”

  “And why would the Navy want to contact my family? What purpose would it serve?”

  “It’s just what we do. I was given his name when I got my Trident. I’m supposed to know about him. I’m a SEAL as well.”

  “After all these years? Why now? Why not let the dead remain dead? Why bother my father?” Libby’s annoyance began to flare as she felt the need to protect her father.

  The sailor shrugged, looked up at the ceiling, adjusting his stance. With a sigh, he turned his gaze back on Libby. She felt herself melt under the press of his intense study.

  Cooper took a deep breath, and continued, “Because, I’ve just lost mine.”

  Chapter 5

  Cooper hadn’t been so summarily dusted off since he’d asked Her Highness Homecoming Queen Sherry Baxter to go with him to the prom. She’d laughed in his face, and his buddies on the basketball team wouldn’t stop taunting him either. He’d spend most of his senior year trying to forget the incident.

  It felt like that now. No family, no home. He was walking around like a stranger in his own clothes. Ordered to meet with people who could care less about him or the military. In less than six hours since returning from Nebraska, everything had changed.

  He was faced with the stone-cold eyes of the Doc’s daughter, eyes the old Coop would normally have been only too happy to warm up. She was strong, and he usually enjoyed the challenge of being with a woman with a backbone. He wanted to introduce her to the intense fire that lived inside him until she showed him her soft side. He knew she had a soft side. He could feel it already.

  But he wasn’t going to play that game today.

  This afternoon he didn’t have the patience for it. And he wanted at least another day and night to numb out. An evening of being anything but civil. In the morning, he’d teach the kid how to surf. And then he’d go face that family tomorrow evening for the meet-and-greet. If there ever was a time he should get thoroughly fucked-up-stinking-pissing-in-your-pants-drunk, it was tonight. For a few moments he thought he even missed the killing fields of Afghanistan. Or the focus he had when he worked up for a new deployment. Not this. Not this morass of feelings he just didn’t want to feel. Trying to do something decent, under orders, no less, and getting rejected. Rejected!

  He needed to get into action, push his body to peak performance like he did just before he shipped out. Unfortunately, he’d have another three months before that cycle began again.

  Too damned long.

  He’d be lousy company tonight, for sure. Even for Daisy. And she deserved much more. No, despite his lousy mood, he should find Fredo and Kyle. Maybe he was too dangerous to be alone.

  Starting to think about cleaning my Sig. He knew it was a damned mistake to handle a weapon. He was ready to explode.

  When he returned to the motor home he let Bay out. They ran down the beach together as Bay tried to keep up. Coop sprinted until his breathing hitched and the pain inside stopped. But, once he got his breath back, the hollow burn in the pit of his stomach came roaring back.

  Coop returned to his Babemobile and jumped in the shower. He slipped on a pair of pajama bottoms when he heard a soft knock at the door.

  It was Daisy. He could see she was looking for the good time he was normally only too willing to provide, and he decided he’d carefully let her down. She must have noticed something was up when he didn’t immediately take her into his arms. They sat a distance apart on his couch, facing the door.

  She gave a tussle to Bay’s wayward hair that tufted at the top of his head, something the dog was only too willing to receive.

  “Your dog needs a bath,” she said, smiling.

  He hadn’t noticed, but damn, s
he was right. Bay stunk up the whole motor home. Even the flowers he bought every week, stuck in a vase bracketed to the wall, didn’t cover up the dog smell that pushed everything else aside. Bay sat on the floor between them, attention focused on the ground, appearing grateful for Daisy’s attention.

  “Yeah, he was traumatized at first. Ran from a tornado, then plopped on a plane and now living at the beach. Never seen the ocean before.”

  Bay looked up at Coop with admiration, leaning against the SEAL’s leg.

  Coop couldn’t look at Daisy, but saw out of the corner of his eye that she had moved to within inches of him. He could feel the heat from her sweet-smelling chest close to his bicep as he leaned forward and began to pet Bay.

  “You okay, Coop?”

  He nodded but still didn’t look at her.

  “You sure?” She laced fingers through the hair along his temple, then dropped to the back of his neck and gave him a one-handed massage. “So sorry about your family, hon.”

  Coop removed her fingers from behind his head, placing them back in her lap. He patted them onto her thighs, and then withdrew his hand. He felt like a complete dumb shit. Being close to anyone female was painful.

  “Sorry. Guess I’m not very good company tonight.”

  “I understand. No worries, Coop.”

  She waited. She’d hung around SEALs long enough to know that if they didn’t want to talk, there would be no talking. Then she broke the silence, and sighed. “Well, another time, then. You take care, Coop, hear?”

  Are you fucking nuts?

  “Thanks. Daisy...” He tried to look at her face, but couldn’t. “I’m going to call things off for a bit. Got some stuff to sort out, if you don’t mind.”

  “Take all the time you need.” Her voice was brittle, delivered on an icy tray of indifference, masking her hurt. He found himself nodding to her backside as she stepped down and quickly exited the home. He watched every beautiful curve of the derriere he loved to run fingers over in bed. And he felt terrible.

  Cooper’s carefree world had changed. He hadn’t gone into detail about his trip back to Nebraska, and perhaps he should have. Instead, he’d resisted her advances, let her know his attention was elsewhere. He guessed Daisy was wounded and holding back tears.

  This had never happened before. Shut down by a woman who he wasn’t banging, and he shut down the one he was.

  Coop grabbed a mineral water and headed down the beach towards the surf. Moonlight danced on black waves in the water.

  Dr. Brownlee’s daughter hadn’t even told him her name, but he couldn’t get her face out of his mind. Was he going back tomorrow at six to see the good doctor, or his daughter?

  Fuck.

  Maybe he should have taken Daisy up on her generous offer. But no, he had to agree to show up at the good doctor’s home with an open wound the size of San Diego. Now that wound just got bigger.

  He sat just out of reach of the surf, keeping all visible activity from the beach behind him. He needed the lack of distraction, the white noise of the pounding surf. After a few minutes, he didn’t even want to go out to find his Team buddies and commiserate. Usually, there wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t share a meal with at least one or two of his buddies on SEAL Team 3. Even if he’d just drive by and watch some of them eat ice cream on the Strand or sit out and sip cappuccino and watch the lovelies on parade, every day he checked in. Saw someone. Even if it was to give them the finger from his scooter.

  What the fuck is happening to me?

  Back at the motor home, Cooper made some dinner for the two of them, tried to watch a little TV, read a book, even thought about putting some decals on his new remote controlled toy he had to have. The experimental drone he bought off a crazy inventor in Silicon Valley a week ago had been the only thing he thought about in the days before the tornado. Except, of course, for Daisy. But nothing pleased him now. Nothing.

  His phone rang.

  “Hey, Fredo.”

  “You back in town, man?” Cooper could hear the background noise at Gunny’s.

  “Yup.”

  “You okay? We was worried. Everything get settled?”

  Coop thought about the empty coffins, the near-sex with Cora and his lack of interest in anything. “Everything’s perfect.”

  Fredo chuckled. “You’re full of shit, Coop.”

  “I just need some down time. Needed to think.”

  “Think about what?” Fredo barked back at him.

  Cooper felt his anger begin to boil. “Shit, Fredo. I just fuckin’ buried my parents. Can’t you give me a break?”

  There was a long pause. “Well, sometimes thinking’s a bad thing. Gotta work it out. We’ll come for you.”

  “Not tonight, Fredo. I already got in a run.”

  “You got plans? Gotta date?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, we’ll see you in 20.” Fredo hung up.

  Tonight I really don’t want to do this. But he knew it was for his own good.

  Coop heard Fredo’s battered pickup arrive in the gravel parking lot. He kenneled Bay and locked up.

  SO Armando Guzman’s cologne hit Coop enough to make his eyes water. “Shit, Armani, you’re gonna cause Fredo here to pass out and we’ll all be killed.”

  “I been trying to tell him,” Fredo shot back. He began to pull out of the parking lot, grinding gears in the old beater as he did so. “You make me wheeze and send me to the hospital and I’m suing your ass for cruel and unusual punishment.”

  Armando grinned his dangerous Latin Lover smile that worked so well on all the girls, “Only if we were married, sweetheart.” He winked at Fredo who got steamed.

  “In your dreams, you Puerto Rican prick.”

  “Well, you’re definitely not in my dreams, Fredo.”

  Armando was the dresser of SEAL Team 3 and his LPO’s best friend. With his movie star good looks, he was the one all the ladies fell for. Runs along the beach were almost red carpet events the way the girls chased him. Although he looked like the biggest player in Coronado, Coop knew Armando was devoted to his mother and sister, and was extremely picky about his dates, unlike some of the other Team guys who were less discriminating. Coop also knew Fredo envied him.

  Armando turned to face Cooper. “When did you get in?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “How was it?” Armando asked.

  Cooper glared at him.

  The handsome SEAL nodded. “You have to go back soon?”

  “I got a shitload of paperwork for the insurance claims. Makes the Navy look like Kindergarten compared to the forms I gotta fill out.” Coop wasn’t looking forward to any of it. “Not going back until after our next workup and deployment.”

  “Timmons clear you for workup?” Fredo asked as he looked at Cooper in his rear view mirror.

  “Sent me on that goddamned mission. What a waste.”

  “But you better do it or he’ll mess with your paperwork,” Armando said as he winked.

  “Roger that.” It was true. Cooper had no choice but to complete the job Timmons had given him, not that he liked it at all. Even with the doctor’s delicious daughter.

  “So, what do you feel like tonight, Coop?” Armando asked.

  “Stop!” Fredo barked. “Don’t fuckin’ ask him that. He’ll pick tofu and steamed vegetables, broccoli and Brussels sprouts, all that green shit. Pee-ew!”

  Cooper had to laugh. Their side trip to Silicon Valley via Monterey had taken them through just-harvested fields of cabbage and broccoli, and the pungent odor made Fredo carsick. Anything green, except lettuce, guacamole and cilantro was off Fredo’s food plan.

  “You need to eat more steak, man,” Armando volunteered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Cooper’s gonna live to be 100,” Fredo said, his nose wrinkled and his unibrow bunched at the center of his face looking like a huge asterisk.

  “What’s the point of being 100 if you can’t fuck?” Armando always equated everything
to sex.

  The trio stuffed themselves at a local steakhouse, Cooper begging off the trip to Ta-Ta’s, the local strip club. He was grateful for the company, but it was wearing thin and he really needed to get to bed if he was going to keep his promise to young Leonard to go surfing at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning. They dropped him off at his motor home and he said his goodbyes.

  His sheets still had the faint scent of Cherries and it was too distracting. At this rate, he’d not be able to sleep. He got up and changed the them, stuffing the dirty ones in his closet. He would do his laundry at Fredo’s when the closet got full.

  Coop didn’t mean to hurt Daisy, but he could see, if he continued to give her the brush-off, he was going to be painfully removed from her Blackberry, just like the tattoos she removed from his buddies’ arms and chests when they got divorced or tried to cover up an everlasting memento from a night of partying. As he slipped on his jeans and a shirt, he realized that when he was nervous or tense, Daisy knew how to love it out of him. But no, like an idiot, he’d sent her home.

  No woman deserved that kind of treatment. He wasn’t good enough for even the casual relationship with Daisy. He was all used up. That’s why he wanted to stay single forever. He’d gotten real good at telling himself it was the only way to do what he needed to do and stay sane. There was no comfort in relationships—either casual or otherwise. Not with the things he’d seen over in the war zone. Where human life was cheap and accidents happened to good men and women every day. The randomness of the danger required he be on alert 24/7.

  He’d been with buddies who’d gotten the “Dear John” letters, the women who’d divorced their brave men after running up huge credit card debt while their guy was out getting his head nearly blown off. No, best to stay free of the cobwebs of a serious relationship. Keep a clear head. Best to avoid heartache, complications, and distractions. He wondered if he ever could be ready for that type of closeness.