SEALed Forever Page 6

  “Are we slated to do hostage rescue?” asked Lucas.

  “Not at this time. But again, I wouldn’t be surprised if this changes. A lot of these operations are under a cloud. If there is danger to any of our local assets, we might have to act. We’re not at war. We’re here to back up the people who are trying to negotiate and broker some relief and peace. Those guys are not soldiers. We’re the good guys, as you know. We want to make sure we leave it that way when we’re done. Got it?”

  The room nodded.

  “You’re here in case we have to fight our way out.”

  Brawley was lying on top of his covers, staring out at the moon and stars through the tiny window in their bedroom, when Tucker returned from his shower.

  “Sure is a fucked up world, isn’t it?” He pulled on his water bottle.

  Tucker felt the same way. “That’s what we do. We do the stuff no one else can,” he answered as he slipped on his boxers. Then he added, “But I agree. It’s a mess.”

  “Makes you wonder if this is going to be our next big Desert Storm thing,” said Brawley. His voice reflected disgust.

  Tucker didn’t agree this time. “Well, let’s hope we learned a thing or two. It didn’t turn out so well over there for anyone. If I can read what Kyle’s told us, we’re here to pick out the bad actors and make it so they are removed, arrange it so the rest can work together and get everyone to play nice.”

  “That would be a miracle. Feels like turf warfare to me. Centuries of it.”

  “You get enough water down?” Tucker asked.

  “I’ll be peeing all night long.” Brawley held up his near-empty water bottle to show him. “And just in case you wanted to know, I’ve not missed my meds, either, Dr. Hudson.”

  “That a boy.” He hung up his towel and laid out his clothes for tomorrow morning. “You mind if I do a little writing before I turn in? I got a book light I can use, but I won’t if it bothers you. Or I could use the bathroom.”

  “Have at it. Won’t bother me at all. We get up at seven?”

  “That works. Make sure you look for that diaper, Brawley.”

  But Brawley didn’t answer.

  Tucker retrieved the notebook Brandy had left him, turned on the small penlight, and opened to a page opposite one of her water color drawings of a bowl of persimmons. He started to write.

  Been here for two days now, although it seems like I’ve been gone a week. This place is very diverse—a splash of cultures, races, and languages. Very colorful, and also very poor. This is a place that has tried to heal over a scar created centuries ago during the dark Slave Coast period. Once powerful countries dominated the culture here, now being swept away and usurped by new tyrants and cultures all trying to impose themselves on this part of the African continent.

  It makes me appreciate working plumbing, cell phone service, fast food restaurants, and highways I can drive at ninety miles an hour with the top down just to look at the landscape flying by.

  I plan to have a seriously good time with you tonight in this lumpy bed, that is, if Brawley doesn’t snore too loud. He’s his usual self. I think he’s going to be fine.

  So while I’m dozing off, I’m going to remember our shower together on Sunday and the way your skin felt under my wet fingers as I rubbed shower gel all over you. I’m going to remember your laugh and the way your hair catches fire in the first light of the morning. I feel lucky to have you and our home to come back to.

  Tomorrow we start our adventure, descending into the unknown. It’s something that I remember doing before. I won’t lie to you and say I’m not a bit fearful. But I’m vigilant. It’s that healthy side of being scared—the part that will keep me alive until my time has come.

  But, in my wildest dark imagination, I don’t see how it’s possible I could be given the miracle of loving you just to have it taken it all away. So that’s the plan. I’m working my way back to you. And when I get there, I’ll be all yours until the next time.

  Loving you now more than I ever have, Tucker.

  Chapter 8

  Brandy decided to explore her watercolor painting more avidly. She got out several of her old sketch books, looking for shapes and patterns that inspired her. She’d always loved the colorful fruit labels on the boxes at her dad’s store and had experimented with drawing some in the bright combinations she’d seen.

  She was taking pictures of baskets of red and green apples and vibrant oranges, when she noticed her father speaking with a young woman very privately. It dawned on her that perhaps this was that new element she’d been noticing about her father—his sudden interest in dressing better and his more active lifestyle. He’d been working out at the local gym, something he hadn’t done since her mother passed.

  At the end of the conversation, he gave the woman a chaste hug and then watched her get into her car and drive away. Before he could look Brandy’s way, she turned and busied herself with her photography.

  She had followed his actions all afternoon, sorting fruit, arranging bundles of asparagus, and pulling wilted greens, but since he didn’t volunteer anything, she didn’t ask him about his new friend. She caught him singing under his breath and smiling more to customers, and the other staff. He didn’t even mind the constant interruptions by their new bookkeeper’s questions and was patient and forthcoming with the answers.

  Brandy knew that something or someone had caused this change in him, and she was dying to find out.

  “Maybe she’s just an old customer,” said Dorie. The two of them had taken Jessica to the zoo. The toddler was excitedly watching pink flamingos who had gathered at the side of the path from the safety of her stroller.

  “Not the way he was talking to her. And I’ve never seen him give a hug to a customer before.”

  “Did it bother you?” Dorie asked.

  “No. It was nice.” She wished she’d been able to see the woman’s face.

  “So ask him.”

  Brandy had to think about this for a few seconds. She and her father lived so close together. They’d both done their best to respect each other’s private lives. She’d never seen him stay out late or have company at the house, but there was something different about the way he acted around this woman.

  “I’ll wait a bit. Maybe she’ll come in soon, and I can do a little reconnaissance first.”

  “Brandy, you’re so funny. Just ask him. Besides, you want to help him out with the vetting. You know there are ladies out there who prey on older men. You don’t want him to be taken advantage of. So that’s where you’re coming from. Just ask him.”

  Dorie was right. Now that she had married Tucker, the roles had been a bit reversed. She was finding herself more and more the one taking care of her father than the other way around.

  The next day, she found him stacking boxes in the back room cooler and asked if she could talk to him.

  He closed the heavy metal door, removed his work gloves, and stared back at her with his hands on his hips. “I’m all ears. Something going on with Tucker and the boys?”

  She found this amusing, and shrugged. “No, Dad, I wanted to talk about you.”

  “Me? What about me?”

  The look he gave her back did have that small twinkle in his eye, like he had already suspected what she was curious about.

  “Are you seeing someone?”

  She knew she had hit the target when he smiled and looked down at his shoes, rubbing his hands together. His bow tie was crooked. She leaned over and adjusted it before he could step back.

  His face flushed with embarrassment. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He struggled for words.

  “I was going to wait a little longer to say something, but I think this is okay. Yes, I’ve been seeing someone. Her name is Jillian. I met her at yoga class.”

  “Yoga? I didn’t know you were taking yoga.”

  “Well, I decided to try it. I mean, I’ve been watching the class come and go for a few weeks now. You know, I use the equipment on the other side,
and I figured they could use a man in there. Lots of ladies. And they didn’t seem to mind.”

  “Didn’t seem to mind? I’ll bet they were all over you.”

  He leaned back on his heels, a sheepish grin on his face. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Dad, you’re a good-looking man. Or are you just figuring that out?”

  Brandy was having fun at his expense.

  “So tell me about her.”

  “She lost her husband only last year. She still wears her wedding ring, as I do. I don’t know how the conversation came up, but we discovered we both had lost our spouses.”

  “Okay. So you like this lady? What does she do?”

  “She sells real estate but is kind of part-time. Sort of semi-retired. Her husband left her in good shape, so she dabbles around with lots of things. Has two grown daughters on their own.” He looked up. “She’s a nice lady. Easy to be around. I guess you could say I’m rather smitten.”

  Brandy could see he was proud of the admission.

  “Does she feel the same way?”

  “I think so. Right now, we’re just getting to know each other. I’m kind of slow on the romance scale, but neither of us is in a hurry. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to, laugh with again. I’ve missed that, Brandy.”

  She was delighted with the news and grabbed him in a big bear hug. “I’m so happy for you, Dad. I knew there was something. You’ve changed, and I like it. I’d say she’s a good influence on you.”

  “Would you like to meet her?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “How about coming over tonight for dinner? I’m barbequing.”

  “Perfect. I’ll bring the wine.”

  Before Brandy went next door to her father’s house to meet this mystery woman, she called Dorie, telling her the news.

  “Good old Steve. I’m happy for him. It’s about time. He’s paid his dues, grieved too long. I’m glad he’s found someone. And you like her?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, here’s to another happily ever after.”

  “Indeed. You doing okay, Dorie? I didn’t make my calls today, and I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I just came from the doctor, and I’m pregnant again. Not sure how Brawley will take it this time. God, I wish he was home.”

  “Me too.”

  Jillian Borden wasn’t anything like Brandy’s mother, which surprised her. But she was very welcoming and eager to please. She liked to travel, something her father had always liked but her mother had been too ill to do much.

  Watching the two of them prepare dinner together in his kitchen, showing her where he kept things and laughing when they bumped into each other, apologizing, Brandy could see they were a good match. She made him happy just by being there. There wasn’t any real heavy lifting to do—they just seemed compatible.

  It was the kind of relationship she had wanted with Tucker, but then realized she’d married someone completely different than her father. The choices they were going to have to make were much more complicated.

  After dinner, she walked to the back of the property, back to her bungalow, took a hot shower, and then turned in early. The silent and empty house made her sad. She hoped very soon she’d be able to hear from him and know that he was well.

  She allowed herself one last cry and vowed tomorrow she’d toughen up. But tonight, she missed Tucker more than ever.

  Chapter 9

  Jean Douchet looked exactly like a former Special Forces guy, Tucker thought. He was smaller in stature, like a lot of the European Spec Ops guys were, but he had powerful arms and shoulders and he moved with sleek speed. He could have been mistaken for an older mixed martial arts guy or even a world-class triathlete.

  Kyle had confided in him Jean had gone through the BUD/S and SQT training and was one of the “special relationship” guys who could work out in the SEAL Team 3 building at Coronado. They’d met originally when Kyle’s platoon was doing training for the French elite units, and the two had remained friends.

  Jean’s eyes picked up every nuance going on in the room. Tucker met several Eastern European Special Forces guys who embedded with them for brief missions in the past, and they’d told him knowing multiple languages fluently meant that he could practically talk to someone in one language and write a text message in another. Not the same message. So Tucker understood that Jean was a giant of an asset for their squad. He admired how detailed he studied all of the American SEALs.

  Tucker was certain in less than a few hours Jean would know every team member’s personality type better than a therapist would after a year of visits. He was that good.

  Kyle introduced him without all the background Tucker was privy to, except for something the guys would appreciate.

  “Jean has gotten some of our embassy staff out of some pretty prickly situations over the past few years, so you listen to him. He grew up here and then served under the BFST, French Special Forces command in the Middle East and in West Africa, Ivory Coast Command. When he retired, he went private, and we’re damned lucky to have him.” Kyle stepped away and allowed Douchet to take over.

  “Bonjour, mes amis,” he started. In his clipped French accent, he explained where they would be traveling and what they should look out for. “When we arrive at the town of Lagos, which is after the border into Nigeria, we’ll be heading inland, roughly following the Ogun River. Be sure you have your passports handy to show the border guards or they won’t let you through.”

  Jean heard shouting outside and went to the window to check out what was happening four stories below. “We have demonstrations almost every day here. Mostly small ones, thank goodness.” He grinned, and again, the team responded. Tucker could see how he could be charming when he needed to be. He was measured, cultured, and confident.

  “I will take the lead vehicle with your chief. The rest of the trucks will be driven by my detail. It will cause less scrutiny that way, since I often accompany NGOs of various countries doing work in the area. My men know the terrain and most of the jungle. I trust them completely. We will all be armed. I’m assuming you are, but don’t brandish them or draw attention to them. Just know that people will expect you have them for your personal safety, so don’t show off. Be discrete.”

  Someone asked if his detail spoke English.

  “But of course. Probably better than you.”

  The team chuckled.

  “I trained most of them, all dual French and Benin citizenship. They are the best of the best, and they frequently have to turn down offers to work for lots of money in Europe or work as head of security for some of the contractors here. But they love their job, and I don’t believe any of them would ever leave working for me. I want you to know who they are before we begin. Don’t fuck with my men.”

  It took a minute for his smile to creep across his chops, but everyone in the room got the message loud and clear.

  “Feel free to ask them questions. They will room near your quarters, but downstairs. Everything has been set up for your ‘survey and site investigation’,” he said, holding his fingers up in the air to show the quotes. “I have done this for others. We will have a secure WIFI connection. I am excited to tell you that this evening, after we arrive, you may be able to do Facetime with some of your families. However, at this time, I need you to stay off your individual cell phones, unless there is some emergency. I’ll lay out rules on that.”

  Kyle had a question. “You expect we’ll have to stop along the way? Or be stopped? And if so, what will we need to say?”

  “That’s an excellent question, Kyle. Only at the border. If we’re lucky!” When no one laughed, he added, “That was a joke!”

  Tucker felt his blood pressure rise.

  “In otherwords, if you get stopped before the border, something has gone wrong.”

  “Gotcha. Thanks, Jean.” Kyle retreated to the side and then took up a chair.

  “I know I don’t have to mention to you that you should not speak unle
ss you are asked a question, and then you are very polite or say very respectfully you don’t understand. Let my boys do the talking. All the talking.”

  After they were released, Tucker followed as he was directed, riding in the second seat next to Brawley behind their huge African driver, Leone. Trace and Tyler sat behind them, crammed into the third seat. Their truck towed a small trailer which contained the inflatable combat Zodiac and the small 55 cc super lightweight diesel motor that he’d been told had been customized for speed. The whole thing could fit into a man’s backpack if need be.

  Tyler retrieved waters from the back and passed them along up front. The convoy began to roll out and blended into traffic.

  Tucker addressed Leone’s eyes, visible in the rearview mirror. “How long will it take to get there?”

  Leone shrugged, fanning the fingers of his right hand to show him it was an approximation. “We go about four to five hours. Depends on traffic, road work.”

  Tucker noted the man’s perfect English. He nodded and thanked him.

  Leone continued. “We always got road work. Lots of rain. Landslides. Big trucks. It’s a constant problem. This time of year, not too bad.”

  Everyone was silent on the trip down the coast, where Tucker saw breathtaking stretches of white rocky beach snuggling up against blue waters like the Caribbean. Yet around the next bend could be dark brown granite cliffs without a hospitable landing area. At the water’s edge of one azure blue bay, a hole had been dug and overflowed with reddish brown mud, which spilled out into the pristine bay, marring it with a brown stain feathering out to the ocean.

  Occasionally, there would be iron security gates leading down to a luxuriously landscaped, western-style hotel or villa, but then next to it, they would come upon a crumbling structure or something that had burned and been repaired with metal corrugated siding and cinder block. Children walked dangerously close to the road on their way to school, dressed in their uniforms.