Gabe slowed his pace. They were moving through tent city toward HQ. “In a way,” he admitted, “it felt good to get it off my chest, Bay. I’ve never told anyone about it. Ever.” He managed a one-cornered smile, absorbing her tender look. “You are definitely a doc. You know how to pull out the toxic infection a person carries. By getting it out in the open, maybe they can heal up then?”
How badly Bay wanted to stop and show him how much she cared. Gabe needed nurturing, tenderness and some long-overdue TLC. She could see the need in his expression, in the set of his mouth. Disappointment flowed through her over not being able to give him what he needed. At least not here. And probably never. “There’s all kinds of infection, that’s for sure,” she whispered, regret in her tone. “I just never realized how terrible your growing-up years were.”
She tilted her head and gazed deeply into his dark eyes. “And you’re so kind and caring toward others, to me. I saw it at the village. You had candy in your cammie pockets and you were handing it out to all the kids. I saw you help that old Afghan man who was hobbling around on a crutch. He dropped his bag and you went over and picked it up for him. You’re not your father’s son, Gabe.”
“I take after my mother’s side, thank God.”
“That’s right, she’s an R.N.,” Bay murmured as they turned the corner. A number of other SEALs were trekking through the entrance into the planning room. “I’m sure she is a healer. I’m sure she helped you after your father died?”
Gabe slowed his pace. “Yes, I became the total focus of her world after that. And looking back on it, it was the best thing that could have happened to me. She’s a good person, Bay. I hope someday you get to meet Grace.”
“Why?”
He smiled slightly and opened the door for her. “I think you’d see a mirror reflection of yourself in her. You’re a lot alike.”
“Another me?” She laughed. “Oh, Lordy!” Warmth stole through her as he really smiled at her for the first time, most of the suffering dissolving in his green eyes.
They made their way inside the mission planning room. She and Gabe took the last bench near the bulkhead or wall. The rest of the SEALs sat closer to Chief Hampton, who was standing at his whiteboard with eraser and colored pen in hand. The PowerPoint on the laptop sat on the planning desk and would be utilized later in the workup on the mission.
Gabe left plenty of room between them because he didn’t want talk starting among the team. There were enough innuendos being hurled his way by Hammer and his group, accusing him of being Bay’s full-time babysitter. What Hammer failed to understand was that his job entailed getting her trained to be of help on a mission, not a problem thrown into the mix.
Still, as Gabe sat listening to the mission briefing by Doug Hampton, another part of him, his heart, was feeling lighter. Maybe even happy. Bay had a helluva way with questions, he’d just discovered. It was as if she had all-terrain radar that could home in on the wound or infection inside a person, ask just the right questions to expose it and then help discharge it by being a good listener. She’d done that for him whether she realized it or not.
Giving her a sideward glance, Gabe saw her dutifully taking notes about the mission. Her lips were pursed, her brow knitted, intently writing in her notebook. What made her beautiful were those soft brown curls at her temples. He ached to tunnel his fingers through that silky, thick mass. It frustrated him that he found himself wanting Bay even more than before. What had their intimate talk unhinged in him? Gabe didn’t know. But he had to get a handle on it damn quick.
CHAPTER NINE
BAY TIREDLY PULLED strands of her hair away from her face. She wove her way through the busy FOB, having served over at the medical dispensary for the first half of her day. Chief Hampton had told her word was getting around they had an 18 Delta combat medic among them. The Navy commander running the medical dispensary had asked for her assistance when two medevacs flew in carrying six American casualties on board. They didn’t have enough personnel and a call went out to her for help. She had aided in saving three men’s lives, working frantically with the other doctor and two nurses at the unit. The dispensary was badly understaffed in Bay’s opinion.
The sun was beating overhead when she got back to her tent. There, she found a cardboard box sitting on her cot. Brightening, Bay knew it was from her mother, Poppy, and it contained those delicious cookies she’d baked. Her exhaustion dissolved as she unclipped the M-4 off her chest, cleared and safed it and set it in the corner. Then she sat down on the cot and opened the cardboard box.
“Hey, you in there?” Gabe called, sticking his head between the flaps.
“Yes, come on in.” Bay hadn’t seen him since the briefing yesterday. Smiling, she held up a plastic bag. “Look! My mama sent me those incredible chocolate chip cookies I told you about.”
Gabe stood at the opening. Grinning, he said, “Where have you been?”
“Working over at the dispensary. Didn’t Chief Hampton tell you?”
“No, but that’s all right. We’re getting ready to set up for that sniper op tonight.”
Opening one of the bags, Bay eased to her feet, walked across the plyboard floor and offered him some of the cookies. “You have to try these.”
Inhaling the odor, Gabe smiled and reached into the bag. “They smell great. Thanks.”
She saw he took only one. There were two dozen cookies in the bag. “Why not take more?”
“You know, the team might appreciate you sharing them.” Gabe took a bite of the cookie. It melted in his mouth. “It would be a nice way to break some of the tension with Hammer and the other guys.”
The idea wasn’t lost on Bay. “Okay,” she said, handing him two more. “How do I do it?”
Gabe had his mouth full of cookie. “When any of us get a package from home, we usually set it on the planning board desk at HQ. That way, as the guys drift in, they see it and can take what they want.”
“What if they know it’s from me?” she asked, worried as she walked over to the cot. She picked up her weapon, clipped it across her chest, grabbed her boonie hat and threw it on her head. As she took the box, Gabe opened one flap so she could step out. Bay felt that special connection that was always simmering between them.
“They won’t care one way or another,” he said. “They’re animals and they like anything homemade.”
Yesterday’s discovery of his abusive young childhood had softened her toward Gabe even more. As tough and hard as he was, she’d never forget he’d been harmed by his own father. Bay was mystified why any parent would beat up his child. She wondered how it had played out in Gabe’s life. Maybe that was why he was closed up tighter than Fort Knox. There was drive, far more than curiosity, pushing her to know him on a deeper personal level.
Stepping into HQ, Bay noticed most of the SEALs sitting on the benches talking with one another. The coffeepot was in here and she’d discovered that the guys, once they had cleaned their weapons, tended to migrate to the planning room. They all looked up in unison when she entered.
“What’s in the box?” Hammer called.
She grinned. “My mama’s world-famous chocolate chip cookies. Gabe said you guys share your boxes when they come in, so I’m sharing mine.” Bay set it on the planning board and opened it up. Almost instantly, the other SEALs surrounded her, eyes on the prize.
“Chocolate chip?” Hammer said, leaning over her shoulder, peering into the box.
Bay smiled and pulled out the three plastic bags that had two dozen cookies each in them. “The best you ever tasted,” she promised. She’d no more than set them at various points on the long table when the men’s hands were diving into them, grabbing a many as they could.
Getting out of the way, Bay watched the seven SEALs stuff their faces with her mother’s cookies. The looks of sheer pleasure, surprise and
glee were written clearly across all their features. She stood near Gabe and watched.
“Hey,” Gabe called, “leave some for the LTs and the chief or shit is gonna rain down on you animals.”
Chuckling, Bay hid her smile behind her hand.
Hammer stood there, chewing and smiling. “First come, first served, bro. It always pays to be a winner. These are good, Doc. Thanks.”
Bay felt relief as she stood there watching Hammer close his eyes and simply enjoy the cookie. Maybe...just maybe...they could move their tense relationship to a better place?
“Hey, what smells good?” Hampton called, coming out of his office, sniffing the air.
All the SEALs’ heads popped up in unison and looked as the chief sauntered over to the planning table. All appeared guilty, each with at least half a dozen cookies or more in his hands.
Bay watched the unfolding drama. Hampton peered into the box.
“This is empty. What did you animals do with ’em?” he demanded, scowling at the team.
“Hey, first come, first served,” Hammer mumbled, words barely distinguishable as he crammed the last of his cookies into his mouth. That way, the chief wasn’t going to make a grab for it. Ownership was nine points of the law.
Hampton quickly perused the three emptied plastic bags lying on the table.
The SEALs all had their mouths full, beatific looks written across their faces.
Snorting, Hampton growled, “You bunch of animals. Didn’t your mothers ever teach you to share?”
Bay chuckled. Gabe laughed. All the other SEALs just looked at Hampton, huge grins spread across their faces. Each man looked like a chipmunk, cheeks stuffed with cookies.
Throwing his hands on his hips, Hampton read the label on the box that said “cookies” on it. “Oh,” he said, looking across the table at Bay, “this explains it.”
“Gabe said to bring the box over and share with everyone, Chief,” Bay said, unable to hide her smile any longer.
“Yeah, well, Griffin forgot to tell you these guys don’t share.”
Hammer lifted his hands, feigning surprise. “Hey, Chief, all’s fair in love and war...and this is war. Or,” he postulated, placing an index finger on his chin, “only winners win...losers lose....”
Snorting again, the chief picked up one of the bags and inhaled the flavor of the cookies still in it. In the SEAL world, it always paid to be a winner. No one wanted to be the loser. “Damn, these smell good....”
Wiping his hands on his thighs, Hammer grinned wickedly. “Best chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had.”
Hampton glared at him and threw the bag into the box. “Well, thanks for sharing, Hammer.”
The SEAL gave him a wide-eyed innocent look.
The men snickered collectively, exchanging evil grins.
Gabe held up his hand, offering his last cookie to the Chief. “I’ve got one left, Chief.”
Hampton’s dark looks dissolved as he raised his head. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I know how to share,” Gabe said, smirking as he handed the cookie off to Hampton.
“Suck-up,” Hammer called, grinning wickedly over at Gabe.
“Yeah,” Gabe growled. “And what’s it gonna get me? You out on that sniper op with me tonight? You’ll be out there farting all over the place because you made a pig out of yourself eating a dozen of those cookies. The Taliban won’t have any problem finding us, will they? They’ll smell you a mile away.”
Laughter erupted in the room. Bay rolled her eyes as the men started gabbing. Hampton laughed with them.
Bay placed her hand over her mouth. SEALs were just as coarse in their horseplay as the Special Forces teams were. Nothing changed between black ops teams, Bay realized. With the stresses on them continuous and severe, black humor was the natural fallback position to alleviate some of that pressure and threat of dying.
Hampton’s eyes gleam with humor as he studied the team around the table. And then he turned and met Bay’s laughter filled gaze.
“Damn good cookie, Doc. Your mother is one helluva cook. Tell her thank you.”
“Anytime, Chief. Sorry you didn’t get more.”
“Did you get any?” Hampton asked, concerned.
“I’m taking the Fifth on that one, Chief.”
“Uh-oh,” Oz chirped up. He gave the guys a triumphant look. “You know what that means, don’t you? That means Doc has a stash of those cookies in her tent.”
Bay grinned. “Yes, and I’ve got them counted, Oz. And if any of them disappear, I know where to come to find the culprits.”
The SEALs each feigned innocence, sporting their “Who? Me?” expressions.
Hampton said, “You’d better keep them on you, Doc. These guys are well known for filching goodies from everyone’s boxes. They go into SEAL stealth mode into the tent and take ’em. You’ve been warned.” He laughed, turned away and went back to his office.
As the team began to wander back toward the coffeepot, mugs in hand, Gabe watched the enjoyment on Bay’s face. She was so open and readable. Whether she knew it or not, this was a great ice breaker between her and them. Teams shared everything. Especially a box coming from home. She’d shown her capacity to be a team member, even if they gobbled up most of her cookies like starved wolves.
“You up to some more rattle battle?” he asked Bay.
“Yeah,” she grumped. “I suppose.”
“Gotta get you to a point where it’s muscle memory and automatic,” he told her, turning and holding the door open for her. Calling over his shoulder, he asked for three volunteer SEALs to join them. One of them was Hammer.
* * *
BAY WORKED FOR an hour out on the range. She was sweating and dirty, and her hands slipped on the butt of the SIG as she ran up the hill toward the next target. The ground was rocky, uneven and filled with potholes here and there. Breathing hard, still acclimating to the altitude, she released the empty mag, leaped over a rut, slammed another mag into the pistol. Her palm was bruised, her fingers aching.
Hammer was there, waiting to count her shots into the target. There was a SEAL by each position. Bay knew they would convene after this last run and she’d get their experienced feedback. Would Hammer hassle her? Coming up to the target, breathing hard, she held out the pistol with both hands, placed her feet apart to give her some steadiness. She fired off fifteen shots and then turned and headed downhill toward the last one.
Gabe convened the other SEALs in the shade of one of the large targets as Bay approached. Her face was flushed, perspiration making her flesh gleam as she walked up and holstered her SIG. Like them, she had her boonie hat on and wore wraparound sunglasses on this bright, sunny day. She plopped down, grabbing a bottle of water he handed her.
Hammer crouched opposite of her. The other two SEALs, Sax, who was twenty-five and engaged to be married when he got off rotation and Shadow, a twenty-seven-year-old who was married, squatted with the group, notebooks in hand. Gabe joined them.
“Okay, how’d she do out there?” Gabe asked them.
Sax, who stood at the first target, said, “Twenty-five yards, ten in the red center and five out.”
“Any comment about her stance or how she was holding the SIG?”
Sax shrugged and said, “It’s learning to control your breathing.” He gave Bay a slight smile. “You’re better this time than last time, so you’re improving, Doc.”
Bay nodded. “That’s good to hear. Thanks, Sax.”
Gabe nodded toward Shadow.
“At fifty yards, eleven in the red center, four out. I have the same critique. It’s about controlling your breathing.” His brown eyes held Bay’s. “I know you’re still adjusting to this elevation. It was hell on all of us the first month. You’re doing well.”
“Hammer?”
/> He rubbed his chin. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.” He held up his notebook. “Fifteen shots in the red circle at seventy-five yards. Not bad, Doc.”
Bay felt as if she could have been knocked over by a feather with Hammer’s assessment of her shooting skills. “Thanks, Hammer.”
“You’re obviously getting your breathing under control,” Gabe told her. “You were improving at each station. And at the longer ranges you were putting more lead consistently into the center.”
She wiped the sweat off her brow. “I think that comes from making long shots at squirrels back home.”
The SEALs all regarded her with light and easy expressions, as if they were starting to like her. It made Bay feel good. She could feel the cohesiveness beginning to build between them. It took away her anxiety and worry of not fitting into the group.
“Was your father in the military?” Hammer asked, tucking his notebook away in his left cammie pocket.
Bay nodded. “He was in the Marine Corps for four years. A corporal.”
Hammer frowned. “The way you shoot, I’d bet he was a Marine Corps sniper.”
Bay wiped her mouth after slugging down more water from the plastic bottle. “Yes, he was.”
Gabe allowed his surprise to show. “You never said anything about that to me.”
“I didn’t think to tell you,” she said, giving him a wry look. And she hadn’t. Looking around at the tight circle of SEALs, Bay figured out that she should have because the looks on their collective faces turned to sudden respect. She shrugged her shoulders. “I figured my shooting skills would speak for me. Why is important that you guys know that my pa was a sniper?”
Gabe shook his head, wiped the sweat off his temple. “It helps us understand why you’re so damn good at shooting, Doc. That’s why.”
“Oh...” She finished drinking the last of the water and capping the emptied bottle. “Sorry. Where I come from, your reputation is based on how you live your life on an everyday basis. It doesn’t matter what my mama or pa do. It matters how I conduct myself with others. What I do.” She looked at each man’s face. “Isn’t that a better way to assess an individual?”
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