SEAL Firsts Page 5

  “You think I look like a bad guy?”

  “Of course not. I see that now.”

  Christy glared at him. She decided he was telling the truth so she backed down. “Well, I still don’t see what the big deal is. Maybe your friend went out on a bender—it happens, you know.”

  “Not to us.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “We’re SEALs.”

  “Oh.”

  “And we never disappear without someone else from the SEAL community knowing about it. We’re trained to disappear, but that’s not how this happened. Something’s wrong.”

  “Sounds a little over the top. Don’t you guys have a life?”

  “That’s exactly what we’ve got.”

  Christy watched Kyle survey the top of the conference table, his eyes sweeping up to the flowers laying flat against the Formica surface.

  “Staying alive is the goal,” he said.

  Christy didn’t know what else to say.

  “Well, I’ve taken enough…” He started to rise.

  “No. Wait a minute. That was unkind of me.”

  Kyle shrugged, and then sat back down. He looked at his lap.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked.

  Kyle folded his hands neatly in front of him and a crooked smile angled up to the left, causing a dimple. “Nothing you can do. I’m here because you never should have been involved in the first place and I wanted to personally apologize for my behavior.”

  Some of the pieces started to connect. She rolled her neck back and forth and felt some of the tension leave.

  “Did I injure you? I tried not to.” His eyes were steady as he raised his brows, forming crease lines on his forehead. “You hurt anywhere?”

  Good question. “No. I’m fine.” She didn’t understand why he chuckled at this and nodded his head twice.

  “You’re a very strong young lady.”

  “I’ve been told that a time or two.”

  “I can imagine.” He scanned her face like he had yesterday when they were on the floor. She could tell he wanted to look at her farther down, but held himself in check. She liked that about him.

  He looked to the side as if thinking about something before he spoke again. “I would like to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.” He turned on the blue-eyed charm again and smiled. “Give me a chance for you to see my decent side, not my animal side.”

  She was thinking about his animal side. Did he know?

  “Well, I don’t normally bite people when I first meet them, either.” She found it in herself to smile and enjoyed that he returned her smile, focusing on her lips.

  An awkward silence followed, but she determined not to break it. His move and how he played it would indicate if she would trust him.

  “Maybe I could buy you lunch sometime. Tomorrow?”

  She’d been hoping for dinner but knew lunch was the right answer. “That would be fine.” She wanted to say “nice” but was pleased she made the last-minute word substitution. No denying her attraction to this man, but it would be dangerous to let him see it.

  “Okay, then. Can I pick you up here tomorrow at, say, noon?”

  “If I still have my job.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I technically quit,” she whispered, peering down at her hands. “I thought Wayne did this.”

  “And so now you know. It was my fault. Entirely.”

  “Yes, I see that now. Okay, I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

  They stood as she gathered up the flowers, burying her nose in them, inhaling the delicious scent. He caught her little lapse in judgment and smiled.

  “I thought you’d like them. They look like you.”

  Christy didn’t remember when or how she said good-bye. She’d been numbed by his words…they look like you. For the rest of the day she operated out of the comfortable cocoon that warm numbness created, that shielded her from ordinary life.

  She didn’t completely trust or believe Kyle, but looked forward to tomorrow with eagerness she hadn’t known in years.

  Kyle’s first string of second thoughts rushed in before he got into his Hummer. He stopped halfway there, almost turning back to call the whole thing off.

  You’ve got no business doing this. You are one messed up sailor if you think someone like her is fair game.

  He wondered why in the world he’d asked her out for lunch. Well, being honest, he knew why. She reminded him of someone from his past.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about her and the way her eyes held him courageously, staring at the possibility of her own death. She didn’t beg—a true fighter.

  Just like me.

  That kind of a person deserved an apology, and more. Her defiance in the face of mortal danger reached in and grabbed him. She commanded respect. Sure, he was marking time, waiting for Timmons to get the information on Armando’s cell phone, but something else was going on, and he couldn’t quite identify it. Or, maybe he didn’t want to.

  He continued telling himself that buying her lunch was the right thing to do, his way of an apology. After all, he’d terrorized her, a civilian, an innocent—something he never thought he was capable of. He was half-surprised she’d said yes.

  Hanging around a woman like Christy was dangerous. Would it set things in motion Kyle knew were better off buried? It was difficult enough dealing with Armando’s disappearance. Did he need this complication as well?

  Despite what he tried to suppress, he realized she enchanted him. There was something about her fiery attitude and that leveling gaze that made his heart drop to his knees. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

  Chapter 5

  Kyle checked in with his chief, but was disappointed to hear from Timmons that finding Armando’s cell phone location would take at least another day. He bought a sandwich and went out to look at the boats berthed at the wharf. He liked studying the expensive toys of the privileged—no trace of anything military. Being at the water’s edge always calmed him, helped him think. It was either watch boats or practice meditation again, but since the last practice hadn’t turned out so well, he was reluctant to try again.

  He shook his head. What were the odds his meditation would have drawn such an audience?

  He watched a man and a boy, who was probably the man’s young son, coming down the wooden pier. The boy looked about six, skipping along, holding hands and trying to keep up with the man, who rolled a small ice chest down the planks with a bumpity-bump. At one point the boy tripped, getting the front rubber bumper of his tennis shoes caught between a gap in the wood. Before he could skid and get a splintered scrape to his knees, the man hauled him up to safety. The boy squealed with a giggle and then kept up his incessant chatter as they made their way down the dock.

  This wasn’t anything that happened in Kyle’s life. There were no picnics down by the harbor, no father-son outings, no camping trips. Happy afternoons fishing with his father had never happened as he was growing up. He got other things that made him strong and hard: a leather belt on his rear or the back of his dad’s hand. It wasn’t until he’d joined his SEAL team that he learned about the meaning of family.

  He’d called for a meeting with two other members of Charlie Team, along with Gunny. They agreed to gather early at the Rusty Scupper, which meant the place would be nearly deserted. There were only two reasons the community came into this favorite Team hangout. If a group of Team guys sat out front at one of the tables, tilted on indestructible chairs, they were passing time, watching the meat parade meandering down the sidewalk.

  Even high schoolers, totally off limits, of course, but hotties nonetheless, were only too willing to tease them. The skirts got shorter, and the shorts showed everything. Skimpy clothes were worn so tight a guy could tell if they wore panties, thongs, or nothing. Tops were becoming practically nonexistent. Girls wore kids sizes, too, so a firm three- to four-inch swath of tanned skin without a single stretch mark bounced deliciously around pierced belly but
tons. Just a hint of a tattoo poking up from underneath sometimes, or perhaps a little black lace. It was distracting for sure, if a guy looked for that sort of thing.

  The other reason to go to the Scupper was to plan something without prying eyes. The Scupper’s dark corner at the back of the bar was perfect for such a meeting. That’s where Kyle sat, waiting for his guys to show up, watching the bubbles traveling up the side of his glass of beer.

  His apprehension about Armando grew the more he considered all the clues or, rather, lack of them. He also worried about being too late. He faced the reality that in waiting too long for their only clue, the location of the cell signal, he might have put Armando in further danger. Perhaps grave danger.

  Nah. Not Armando. Guy is a fuckin’ warrior machine.

  Kyle had never had an unsuccessful mission. This wasn’t going to be his first. Not today. Not this week. He hoped to God never.

  Help me out here, buddy. Give me another sign. Don’t try to do this alone, Armando. Kyle knew the missing SEAL would find a way to steer him in the right direction. And he knew Armando still lived. He could feel it in his bones.

  Cooper walked into the bar first, followed by his ever-present sidekick, Fredo. Coop, a farm boy from Nebraska, had graduated as the tallest SEAL at over 6’4”. He still looked like he walked around in his overalls, had a loping gait, and needed to duck under every doorway in his path. Raised nowhere near the ocean, Cooper still swam second fastest on the Team. Second to Armando. Coop had spent the summer before Indoc learning. Had hired a former Olympic coach who told him he might have a shot at a medal if he washed out of BUD/S.

  Fredo, short and built like a soccer player, which was how he’d spent his youth in LA, took two steps for every one of Cooper’s strides, but beat the giant and almost everyone else at timed runs, either long or short. Best wrestler on the Team also went to Fredo. And he liked to cheat, touching a guy someplace he didn’t want to be touched, causing a serious lack of focus and getting the resulting quick take down.

  The unlikely pair of friends hunkered down across the table from Kyle. They were served a couple of beers by the new girl with the nice hands. Cooper ordered mineral water with lots of ice and lime. He told Kyle he’d leave his for Gunny. At last Gunny showed up, red-faced, as if he’d been on a bender. He arrived a full fifteen minutes late, and Kyle suspected he’d jogged to make up time, but didn’t have the lung capacity for much of a run.

  “Sorry, gents. Got caught up at the gym with a late arrival,” Gunny said as he pointed to a beer.

  “Got your name on it, Sarge,” Cooper said.

  Gunny downed half of it quickly. Too quickly, Kyle thought. Gunny must be in some pain and had decided to douse it. He noted Gunny might not be much help on this mercy mission.

  “Armando’s gone missing.”

  “Fuck me. When?” Fredo asked.

  “Friday night, maybe Saturday.” Kyle watched as his words sunk in.

  “You’re just now fuckin’ telling us?” Fredo’s brow contorted. Prune face, Kyle had said on more than one occasion. But a good question, and one that deserved an answer.

  “I wasn’t sure. Thought maybe he was having a little honeymoon, without the ring and the preacher.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “That would be Armani.” Coop chuckled.

  “Timmons asked me to look into it.”

  “You try calling him?” Fredo asked. Everyone immediately turned and growled at the Mexican-American SEAL, who shrugged his shoulders and added, “I’m just sayin’.”

  “Timmons is waiting for the cell tracking.” Kyle looked at Coop, who had gone alert.

  Coop answered. “I definitely can help you there.”

  Kyle knew Cooper had done a rotation at the CIA and had some friends there.

  “I got his number right here.”

  Kyle handed Armando’s number over to Coop on a white piece of paper. “No strings. Invisible.”

  “Of course.” Cooper frowned. “Probably get it later tonight. I’m gonna make the call now.”

  “Thanks.” Kyle watched as the giant SEAL unfolded from the table, stood, and went outside to make the call. Cooper’s huge frame completely blocked sunlight from coming through the doorway of the Scupper.

  Two young ladies sauntered past Coop, and they must have looked back at the handsome farm boy because Cooper waved, wiggling his fingers and grinning, with the cell phone clutched to his ear.

  “What’s the plan, boss?” Fredo wanted to know.

  “First we get the location, and then we get Armando out. Just like the snatch and grabs we did overseas.”

  “Sounds cool,” said Fredo.

  “Got nothin’ else to do,” said Gunny.

  Coop came back. “Take a few hours at the most. My friend in DC will have the coordinates on Armani’s cell—if it’s still on.” He gulped down his water, crushing ice with his molars. “So I suppose now we hurry up and wait?” He dumped a lopsided grin on Kyle.

  “Exactly. We’ve got our team. We go when we get the location. Not a breath to anyone but Timmons. No other Team guys, you got it?”

  They nodded in agreement.

  “And you get some rest. Not sure what’s in store, but we gotta be alert and strong and ready to go. Get your gear in order in case we need it. I’ll check back with you boys tomorrow sometime after noon. But be ready to take off as soon as I call.”

  He watched them leave behind their unfinished drinks. He hoped his call to action wouldn’t cost them their careers—or their lives.

  Chapter 6

  Christy knew Simms wasn’t expecting her early, so she slept in. She shaved, oiled her skin after her steamy shower, blow-dried her blond hair, and then curled it in ringlets, extra fluffy.

  She pulled out her special Lady Parisienne bra with the skin-like padding and silky butterfly stitching. Madame M gave her the delicate garment as a gift when Christy made that thousand-dollar sale to the San Francisco mayor who bought lingerie for his new girlfriend. He had been one of the shop’s regular customers. The mayor liked his girls extra full on top, so Madame M always had a fully stocked DD section with nothing but the most expensive lingerie.

  She leaned forward and lifted the soft pillows of her breasts into the creamy cups, leaving just enough cleavage to distract the average male. But Kyle wasn’t an average male. She doubted he’d ever seen a woman in a three-hundred-dollar bra. That part about men she could read like a school primer. Her trouble happened with the after-the-first-date-thing. She decided not to fall too quickly for him, even though she already had, and he hadn’t done anything but tie her up on the floor with her hands above her head, lay across her body with his package between her legs, covering her chest with his muscled torso, and spread her legs with the strong muscles of his thighs. And then he gave her flowers and asked for a lunch date.

  Pretty unbeatable combination.

  Her sex quivered in anticipation as she slipped the satin and lace matching panties over her hips and centered the small frilly triangle in front. She applied her makeup with patience and skill, thinking about kissing him, wondering what the feel of his tongue would be like opening her lips and plunging in to play with hers. She imagined what those strong hands could do around her waist, then sliding down the front of her abdomen into her panties.

  She sprayed perfume in the air and walked through it, coating her flesh with scent. She was a lethal combination of female determination and need. She would make him pay for yesterday’s transgression. She’d make him beg, and then she’d decide what to do next. Logic told her she should hold out and not let him touch her. But her heart and her body craved the caress of the man with three-toed footprints running up his muscled arm.

  After she finished dressing, she drove her Honda into the office parking lot. Sounds of sea birds and a foghorn in the distance reminded her the ocean was not far. It never got hot in San Diego. The moist late morning air caressed her cheeks. She turned and found him leaning against a shin
y black Hummer, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed as well. He’d been watching her get out of the car. She hoped she’d been graceful.

  A slight smile lit up his face. She tweeted her car closed, slung her purse over her right shoulder, and walked straight for him without taking her eyes from his. He made no apology for watching every moving body part she had, including her mouth, when she stopped in front of him and licked her lips.

  So far so good.

  Something registered on his face. A loneliness and hunger resided inside his vacant eyes, something dead and now coming back to life. He appeared so confident, so well trained and measured. Probably he’d learned to cut off his soft side from his survival side.

  She had a sudden urge to soften him.

  Where did that come from?

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said. One eye twitched. His long dark lashes, thick and shiny, outlined the blue gaze he leveled at her. It almost made her faint. Her ears buzzed and her stomach lurched.

  “I promised you lunch,” she answered. “I keep my promises. Always.”

  “So do I.”

  His masculine cologne wafted toward her. Erotic goose bumps slipped down the front of her blouse like cool fingers touching her white flesh. She felt naked and blushed, looking down.

  His chest heaved and then stilled. Had he caught himself reacting to her blush?

  A man of control.

  She read all the little signs of a man’s arousal. Even without dwelling on the considerable tent in his pants, she knew she turned him on by her fragrance and appearance.

  And she loved it.

  He assembled all six-foot something of himself and walked around to the passenger side of the Hummer, then opened the door. She bent her left knee, gripping the chrome handle on the doorframe for the high step. He stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

  “Here, let’s use this.” He retrieved a white plastic stepstool no larger than a shoebox, bent down, and placed it on the pavement at her feet. He uncoiled his muscled frame less than four inches in front of her and just as slowly let his eyes wander over her body, from her knees all the way up to her chest.