“Yes, Instructor,” the men said in unison.
Reaching his hand into his pocket, Leaper pulled out half a dozen neon bandanas and handed them out to the trainees. “Tie it around your wrist.”
The trainees didn’t question the order. They quickly did as Leaper bade and waited for further instruction. Eager eyes gazed steadily at him.
“Be prepared to swamp on my command,” said Leaper. “Make sure the gear doesn’t sink.”
The men scrambled, grabbing loose fins, masks, and bags. The boat rocked as they moved hastily.
“Slow down, guys. Let’s consider your actions before you take them. Make each movement count—unnecessary movements can cause harm. Water has a reaction for each action, and that’s useful to know. It can be advantageous or harmful, depending on how you use it. For example, if your starboard man jumps before your port man knows, guess what’s happening next?” Leaper eyed the trainees. “And I’ll give you another hint on the gear. If you don’t have utility belts, or any other type of belt, use something else to secure gear in a handy fashion. I always carry a bandana. Black, brown, or something that blends in with whatever outfit I’m sporting.” Leaper waited for the trainees to crack smiles. Nothing.
Damn. These recruits are too serious. Young, hungry, and scared shitless too.
“Tough crowd,” he murmured. He cleared his throat and then spoke louder. “These bandanas are yours to keep, to remind you of this swamping lesson. Now, center yourselves, and let’s go slowly and thoughtfully through the process.”
The boat stopped rocking as the men calmed down. The gear was secured.
“Swamping in three, two, one.” Leaper cut the engine and dove over the side. Cool water rushed over his face and body. It was refreshing, and relief filled him. He surfaced faster than he preferred, but he had a job to do. He swam five feet away to gain a better vantage point.
On cue, pairs of men eased into the water. First to enter the cold Pacific water were the ones on his left. Leaving two on the right, these men grabbed the rungs on the side of the boat. They dithered for a few seconds, checking that all gear was secure, and then counted off together and jumped in. In one smooth movement, thanks to the two men from the right, the rubber boat flipped into the water. The small outboard motor propeller spun slowly in the air, as if it didn’t realize it was supposed to stop moving. Eventually, all movement ceased as the men moved under the boat and breathed air together in the small, dark confines.
Leaper smiled. He swam closer and slipped underneath. He could practically feel the men grinning. They knew they had performed well. This wasn’t their first rodeo. “Good job. Now, let’s flip it, make everything shipshape, and get back underway.”
“Aye, aye.” Six acknowledgments echoed quietly inside the RIB before the trainees disappeared on the other side, righted the boat, and climbed back in. These agile men were so young. Had he ever been that shiny and new…that hopeful? God, he felt old. Was this how his old instructor, Gich, had felt about him? Damn. Well, Leaper had passed the big 4–0 three years ago.
Where had time gone? Maybe he should settle down like Declan, marry someone and have babies. Who the hell would ever love a fuckup like me? Whoever it was would have to be a lunatic like him. If there’s a woman out there like that…
Leaper looked up. The sun was high in a cloudless sky.
He hoisted himself over the side of the boat. Looking down, he could see fish swimming below. The ocean was crystal clear. God, he’d rather be out swimming, fishing, kayaking, surfing—anything, other than teaching. Fuck, it was time to retire. Wasn’t it?
“Secure. And if I can add, that was cool, Instructor,” said Seaman Willie Watson. The rest of the BUD/S trainees looked on exuberantly, obviously jubilant over the ease of the experience. If there were any chance he could teach these kids something, anything, to protect them from harm…well, hell, he’d stick it out a while longer and see how he could help the next generation. They seemed like good kids. Shit, he was already calling them kids.
“Good to hear.” Leaper nodded toward the other boats. “I’ll bet they aren’t having as much fun in those boats.” He didn’t agree with scaring the crap out of the recruits and making them so flustered they couldn’t find their asses with a magnifying glass. Different folks had different strokes, when it came to training.
Leaper could hear several of the instructors shouting their heads off on the other boats, and one of the engines had obviously gotten loose and sunk. Bummer. Those recruits would be on the Goon Squad until graduation. Not that doing extra physical training (PT) was a negative thing, for it often had a positive effect by helping recruits make it over the hump by developing a do-or-die determination to succeed. Leaper remembered his days of running extra miles and doing hundreds of push-ups, as well as long laps around the bases and the Obstacles course. Those were the days…when his optimism was strong and his direction was crystal clear. Damn, but he was a jaded son of a bitch now.
Leaper hid his smile. “Uh, you’ll notice that I depart from the regular curriculum. What I’m going to teach you are useful techniques that at some point could be lifesaving. Knowing what each person is doing—having that agreement among yourselves before you even leave the beach or the dock—will save you time. I noticed that several of you were slow to respond as the swamping began. This planning will aid you. Who is responsible for which gear or which tasks, and having a few carabineers, bandanas, and a knife with you, will be more useful than you can imagine. For example, if you’re going to be MacGyver, you need to pick useful items to MacGyver with…”
Gesturing at the other two boats, Leaper added, “A few friendly tips to get you to Hell Week. Don’t be a know-it-all. Share the knowledge I’m giving you. Teammates are for the Team, not the individual. If something works for you or a Teammate, pass on the wisdom. This is what the Teams are about: helping each other to the goal. We succeed as one, or we fail as one. But failure is…”
“Not an option. Thank you, Instructor,” finished Watson. “Shit. Those guys in the other boats are diving for their gear. Has to be over fifty feet.”
“It’s forty-two feet. Another thing that’s useful to know is depths. Study the charts. There have been more than a few occasions when combat swimmers have taken advantage of the topography of the ocean floor. Think of our underwater demolition teams, our Frogmen ancestors, who would swim into beaches, disposing of mines and booby traps, clearing the way for our troops to safely land on beaches. These guys would have grease pencils and clear plastic boards to note the landscape of the bottom of the ocean—depths, debris, etc. This is one type of war we’re fighting, where all the areas of the globe can become battlefields. Just because you’re on top of the water driving a boat doesn’t mean you can be oblivious to what’s below you. In reality, it means you need to be doubly aware of everything above you, below you, and around you. Awareness, preparation, and planning means always having several contingency plans.”
Leaper waved to one of the boats and gestured to another instructor.
Receiving a thumbs-up in response, Leaper engaged the engine on the boat and turned it away from the others toward a group of birds diving into the water. In the distance was a small island. Farther on was San Clemente, a training outpost they’d be visiting in the near future. Boy, these trainees were going to hate the next stop! His first foray into this exercise had made him wet his pants. Luckily, he’d been in the water at the time, and no one had been the wiser.
The sound of the screeching birds grew louder as they neared a fish-feeding frenzy. Leaper cut the engine about one hundred feet away. “There’s a school of fish below, and most likely”—Leaper’s words were cut off as the boat rocked suddenly—“dolphins.”
The trainees looked eagerly over the side, almost tipping the boat.
“Easy, there. These are wild dolphins, and they are not necessarily friendly. Let me share a story about my time in
Greenland. My former swim buddy, Declan, and I were practicing with a new type of rebreather when we met up with a pod of dolphins—mothers and their wee ones. Let me tell you, those mothers were protective…” Leaper paused as he craned his neck to the right. “What’s that? Over there, I see something. Hey, is that a figure bobbing around out there?
“I’m afraid our next lesson will have to wait. This looks like an emergency. Stay put. If something happens and I go down, return to the group. Do not follow me into the water.” Leaper didn’t wait for their response. He dove over the side and swam with quick strokes to the figure he’d spied. He could feel the school of fish changing direction and moving around him. A few not-so-subtle snout bumps on his leg signaled dolphins, though sharks were known to give a not-so-subtle rub, to “taste” their prey. Fuck it—he could get rough if he needed to. Whatever came his way, he’d deal with it.
As Leaper neared the figure, he could see it was a woman—a rather pretty one too. Her movements were slow, and she looked very tired. His buddy Declan would love this. He was the chivalrous “lifeguard” type, but Leaper had pulled his fair share of men out of the drink. This could be his first time rescuing a woman. “Hey, are you okay?” When there was no answer, he added, “Uh, my name is Leaper. What’s yours?”
“Kerry,” she panted. Her large brown eyes were frantic. Her honey-blond hair was matted to her head. “My dolphin. Have you seen her? I need to secure her.”
“Your dolphin? Did you ride her here? Is she pocket-size?” He moved toward her slowly. Is she delusional? Her gaze is steady. She seems to be on the level. Or is she a good liar?
He’d seen more than one good friend almost drowned by an emotional victim. Besides that, a person in the ocean spouting tales of owning a dolphin was worth doubting. There was a possibility this lady was unbalanced. He hoped for the best, that she was sane and easy to rescue. If not, well, here was another life lesson for the recruits.
“No. What? Are you nuts?” She spit water out of her mouth as she kept herself afloat. “I have a boat.”
“Okay. Where?” He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t see one. Did it sink?”
Kerry spun in a circle. “Crap! I must have swum farther than I realized. It’s back there, near the far side of that island. Close to the inlet with the small rocky beach.”
“That’s, like, four miles away. The current must have caught you.” He swam closer to her, holding at an arm’s length away. “Can we give you a lift?”
“Sure. I just…need to find Juliet.” She smiled as she looked down. “There she is.”
A face bobbed up in front of them. The dolphin nudged Kerry gently.
“SeaWorld? Wild search and rescue? Or are you a member of the Marine Mammal Program?” Leaper nodded. “I’ll bet the latter.”
“Ding ding ding. I usually have two techs who come out with me, but there was an emergency. Juliet and I were already in the boat, so we broke protocol and ventured out alone. Normally, it’s not a problem. We’ve done this before. But something spooked her, and she veered away from the boat, and then those guys found her.” Kerry stroked the dolphin’s back. When the dolphin rolled onto her side, Kerry rubbed her fin. “Wild male dolphins lure away our females. These hooligans corral our females and get them pregnant before they return them to us. The problem is, right now, there are several fatal illnesses that the males can pass on to our females, so we discourage their coupling by bringing the females quickly on board a boat, but when I’m so far from mine, well… So sometimes I just shout at the predators. Not that any wild creature is going to listen to me. Luckily, Juliet is one smart cookie, so I’m guessing she’s probably avoided their advances so far. She’s a very crafty and swift swimmer.”
“And if she gets cornered by a group of males, what does she do, cross her fins?”
“Pffft. You’re an idiot,” Kerry said, splashing him.
“Glad you noticed. So, um, are you okay or what?” He was pretty close to her now. He could take hold of her, bring her safely to the boat.
“Honestly”—the lines on her brow deepened—“I’m getting pretty tired.”
“Sorry to hear that. Ah, crap, did you ask for Juliet’s friends to join us?” Leaper pointed to several fins. “They’re coming.”
Kerry tapped Juliet’s belly and she rolled right side up. Kerry held her hand possessively on the female dolphin’s back.
Swimming closer to Kerry, Leaper felt several hard bumps along his leg and back. “We need to get you both out of the water. Can you swim beside me?”
“Yeah.”
The female dolphin moved protectively between Leaper and Kerry. It was a decent position for Juliet to be in, though it put the human beings in the line of fire. A dolphin’s snout was a serious weapon that could cause severe pain or damage to a shark. Leaper had experienced broken and bruised ribs from the Greenland pod and didn’t want to go down that path again.
His fingers brushed the hilt of his knife. With the school of fish so close, he didn’t doubt additional predators lurked nearby too. But he’d didn’t want to aggravate the situation, so he was going to hold off on wounding or killing one of the aggressors as long as he could.
Leaper waved at the boat and signaled to the trainees to use their paddles to bring the boat closer. They saw his signal and immediately complied. Good souls! He would be buying these trainees burgers tonight.
A young male dolphin rubbed his body along Leaper’s leg. Great. Leaper froze until the sensation passed. If he pushed the male away, it would give the dolphin an excuse to respond. No one wanted to mess with a horny male dolphin!
“Don’t shove the dolphins if they lean against you.” Kerry advised softly. “They will meet every action with added aggression.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve encountered pods before, though not males, per se. I count four of them. What do you think?” Leaper did a breaststroke so he could look around while still moving. When Kerry didn’t answer immediately, he asked, “Are you doing okay over there?”
She gulped air. “Yeah. Four. I’m just…spent.”
Leaper came back to Juliet, put his arm over her, and gave Kerry something to rest on. “Hang in there. The boat is close.”
The wild dolphins shoved their snouts against Leaper. They wanted that female. He resisted the urge to respond, though his ribs were definitely taking a beating.
His eyes continued to scan their surroundings, but the moment the boat was close enough, he hoisted Kerry in with one lift and then practically propelled Juliet on board and onto a bed of life vests and shirts. The male dolphins were highly displeased and came at him quickly with open mouths. Leaper wasn’t looking to sport any scars, so he hustled himself aboard and spun his finger in the air.
Seaman Watson engaged the engine, put the boat in gear, and headed at top speed toward shore.
“Head for the mouth of Glorietta Bay,” ordered Leaper. He sat up and shook the water out of his hair. Droplets of salt water flew off his head in a short barrage.
“My boat?” asked Kerry.
He pursed his lips. Though he believed she truly wanted it, the woman was totally spent. He couldn’t let her operate a boat on her own. “We’ll drop you off and go back for it.”
“Thank you, Leaper.” She put her hand on top of his. She held it there, the same way she held her other hand on the back of the dolphin. It was…nice. The way her clothes clung to her wasn’t lost on him: a pair of black swim shorts hugged her shapely legs, and a bright-pink swim shirt was stretched over her breasts. Perky nipples pushed through. Probably cold. There was nothing dry on board the boat after the swamping. Otherwise, he would have offered her something to wear.
Strange, he noted. I’m usually the “love ’em and leave ’em laughing” type. But this lady seems different—sweet and grateful, and sexy.
As she looked up at him, he noticed heat in her gaze too�
��or was he imagining that?
“My phone number is 555-0122, in case you need to reach me about the rescue, or the boat.” She smiled up at him, suddenly aware that her hand was still on his. She jerked it away. “Sorry. You’re…very warm.”
“Hot-blooded, I suppose,” he said, and then decided that was the lamest statement ever. Christ, he was out of practice with women. When you spent all day, every day with men…you tended to lose touch.
It wasn’t long before they reached the Marine Mammal area. Actually, the time had felt very short indeed. Down from the Point Loma Submarine Base and currently hidden at the back of an obscure Marine base, this place was a well-kept secret. Given that the dolphins and sea lions were mostly rescues—well protected and cared for—Leaper wouldn’t mind coming back as one of these mammals if there were reincarnation. Having someone like Kerry take care of him would make life pretty interesting.
Several people waited on the docks, a swift blur of movements as they coordinated moving the dolphin into its pen. Juliet seemed pretty happy as she waved back at them with a flipper.
Kerry looked exhausted. Her face was pale, and her legs were a little wobbly as she walked, but she held herself upright as she moved about the dock and conversed with her coworkers.
Leaper couldn’t hear the conversation, but he figured it wasn’t a pleasant chat. He checked his watch. It was almost time to wrap for the day, so he stepped off the boat and walked to her. Pulling her aside, he said, “I need to get going. We’ll grab your boat and drop it off, and then I need to get these trainees home. Touch base tomorrow?”
She reached up and hugged him abruptly. It almost threw him off-center, but he caught her to him and held her tight. “Is that a yes?” he asked.
“Yes,” she murmured against his shoulder. “Thank you.” Just as quickly as she’d embraced him, she let go and headed back to the far side of the dock. The lady didn’t look back, but Leaper could still feel the imprint of her luscious curves against his chest and the silk of her hair as it brushed against his neck.
The Power of a SEAL Page 2
