SEAL Firsts

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Someone’s pulled up. Heard maybe three trucks pass by,” Fredo whispered.

  “The Suburbans?” Kyle asked.

  Fredo shook his head. “I think these are local law enforcement. Must have been running a roadblock or were headed out to the cabin They’ll send a chopper too.”

  Mia started to moan. Cooper pulled her away from Fredo’s chest to check her, but the SEAL possessively wouldn’t let go.

  “I got to check her, dumbass. She’s not your girlfriend.”

  Fredo shot him a warning look. Coop knew he’d embarrassed the man. Had singed his pride. Fredo defiantly held Mia’s hand during Kyle’s examination. A thin trickle of blood poured out of her mouth.

  “Keep her warm. Jeez, I hope we can get her in the van soon,” Coop said.

  “She gonna be okay?” Fredo asked.

  “If she gets help. I can’t tell what’s going on inside, except for this.” Kyle pointed to a thread of fresh red blood running down her bare leg.

  Mia was losing her baby, Kyle thought.

  Cooper looked at both teammates. “The body does what the body does.”

  “We’d better go the rest of the way on foot,” Kyle changed the subject, not wanting to look in Fredo’s eyes. They covered the RTVs with branches, Cooper taking one last long look before covering the red one. Then they moved out.

  The forest was erupting with lights and sirens, and the smoke from the cottage fire had plumed up into the air about forty feet. Just before they came upon the toy hauler, they heard the horn honk. Twice.

  “Shit,” Kyle said under his breath.

  Chapter 15

  Back at her condo, Christy had decided to eat dinner, then sat at the dinette table, staring into space, until she dropped her fork. It clattered on the glass top, the sound bringing her abruptly back to reality. She’d been sitting there. In the dark. All alone. What was she looking for?

  Enough.

  Checking the time, she noted she’d be a few minutes late for her workout with Marla.

  She took the last of her unfinished salad and water to the kitchen and dumped them in the sink. Her appetite was gone.

  In her bedroom, she shed her clothes and put on her workout sweats. She still felt Kyle’s kisses at the back of her neck, the touch of his fingers as he’d moved down her spine and kissed every vertebra. She’d never felt so worshiped. And so abandoned.

  She tied her shoes and put her hair up in a scrunchie, then gave herself a good hard look in the mirror. Some of the puffiness around her eyes had calmed down.

  She slung her gym bag over her right shoulder, grabbed her keys, and walked down the silent hall to the elevator for the second time today. The gym was on the top floor. It was going to close in an hour, so she’d have just enough time for a quick workout with Marla and maybe a sauna.

  Then maybe she could sleep tonight, after all.

  She didn’t know why the hair at the back of her neck prickled as she walked toward the elevator. She couldn’t remember a time when the condo had been so quiet. The art deco doors opened and she stepped in, then pushed the black up button for the gym and common area. The elevator rumbled, as if asking her if she wanted to change her mind at the last minute. Took forever. Were the lumbering doors always this slow?

  What am I afraid of?

  The gym was nearly empty. Marla wasn’t there waiting for her, as she usually was. A new male employee with the Infineon’s green polo shirt logo was wiping down the weight machines with a white towel, using a spray bottle of emerald green cleanser. He held the bottle up to Christy in a salute.

  “Marla here?” she shouted.

  He shrugged and held up his hands again as if he didn’t understand.

  “I’m going to do some cardio first, then I might come in here,” Christy shouted out to him over the classic rock and roll. The music blaring throughout the gym was a little too loud, and it was irritating.

  “Suit yourself,” he shouted back. “We’re open for another hour and twenty.” His British accent bothered her. And she hadn’t recalled the gym being open so late before.

  Why? No one was here. She looked down the hallway of offices. Marla’s door was closed, but a light shone under a crack at the bottom.

  Probably on the phone.

  Christy thought perhaps she’d take her sauna before a quick workout to relax, but didn’t want to miss Marla. She headed for the cardio room. Her body flinched at every little creaking door, and at the sound of howling winds whipping around the glass corner windows that overlooked the dark sky. Lights twinkled on hanging streetlamps at sidewalk level below. Some of the boats in the inlet had strings of lights illuminating their masts.

  She slung a towel around her neck, put on her headphones, plugged them into the elliptical machine and clicked the TV on the wall directly in front of her. Two other TV screens mutely flashed ads and programming down at the end of the room, playing to ghosts of workout patrons who had long since vanished.

  She clicked through her choices until she found a movie channel and started playing an old Rambo film. Kyle’s biceps weren’t as big as Stallone’s, but she liked them better. All alone in the cardio room, Christy became absorbed in the movie as she coursed through her three-and-a-half mile routine.

  Until images of a fire in the Santa Nella forest flashed on the screen of the TV furthest from her. A reporter was in a helicopter as the overhead camera zoomed in on a burning cabin. She switched her channel changer to listen to the newscast on the screen right in front of her.

  “Police and fire crews are still trying to determine the cause of the blaze. The bodies of three men some half-mile away have been found, dead under what the coroner has called ‘unusual circumstances.’”

  That got Christy’s attention. But why did she suddenly feel like Kyle had something to do with this? Would she always wonder if Kyle was involved when she saw a news report about an unusual occurrence? Is this what came with the territory: feeling afraid to watch the news? And why did it make her fear her own surroundings?

  She hated being afraid. When she was little, her biggest fear was of drowning. She’d developed this fear after she’d had a close call at a neighbor’s pool. Although now a good swimmer, it had been a whole four days before she would jump into the pool with all the other youngsters during summertime swimming lessons after her near drowning. But once she got the knack of it, she became the fastest swimmer in the class.

  She used to lock up Madame M’s store at night in San Francisco dozens of times, and she wasn’t as apprehensive then as she felt tonight.

  This was something she’d have to fix. Being with Kyle was giving her the heebie-jeebies. And that wasn’t good.

  She switched back to her movie and completed her forty minutes. No one else came in during that time, which she thought was odd. Marla must have gotten involved in something else, probably left her a message she’d get later on her cell.

  Someone was cleaning out the garbage in the weight room, but still there was no sign of the other staff or other patrons. Christy decided she’d take a sauna in hopes it would quiet her nerves.

  In the changing room, she slipped off her workout pants and sports bra top, left her shoes underneath the clothes peg in her locker, wrapped herself in the oversized white fluffy towel, and stepped to the sauna area. Just outside the glass door she found a water bottle steeping in a bowl of half-melted ice cubes, along with a rolled-up washcloth. She grabbed them and stepped inside the warm moist enclosure.

  She poured water on the artificial coals to create steam inside the chamber, spread her towel down on the cedar planks, lay on her back, and placed the ice-cold washcloth over her eyes. The wet heat soothed her bones. Her skin loved the moist womb of the sauna.

  Raising her knees, she felt the little bruises left between her legs from her night of heavy lovemaking. She had the urge to place her own fingers there, but decided against it.

  Someone walked past the door.

  In pants.

 
; In the women’s wet area?

  Christy sprung to the glass door, pressing against it, and peeked out, but she could not see anyone else. She threw the towel around her, opened the sauna door a crack, and then quickly made it to the dressing area, where she dressed. Without taking the time to put her shoes on, she ran out through the women’s side lobby, clutching her shoes by the laces, and into the reception area next to the weight room. The phone was ringing, but no one was manning the desk. Through the glass wall that divided the reception area from the weight room, she could see the bottle of green spray and the towel the staff member had left on one of the padded benches. The garbage can in the corner was tipped over.

  She hit the heavy glass doors of the gym and discovered they were locked. She turned the heavy metal lock, pushing on the door handle. She burst into the hallway, running to the elevator. As she stepped in, she heard the gym doors open. She pushed the down button multiple times as she heard the sound of footsteps running toward her.

  Christy flattened her body against the right side of the elevator car as the doors slowly closed. She half expected someone’s hand to separate the doors and come after her, but the elevator began its slow descent to the fourteenth floor. Once again, she was safe for now. But what awaited her at her condo? It took forever to get there, and luckily, the compartment hadn’t stopped.

  Again, the hallway was deserted. After checking both right and left, Christy dashed to her condo door and scanned the pad with her room card, which released the latch. She slammed the door behind her.

  Home.

  Any calm she’d achieved with her workout and the sauna had been shattered by the fear that someone was after her. Images of the last hour flipped through her mind. Sure, she’d exercised by herself before, especially late at night. She’d been the last one in the gym several times. Maybe this was just her crazy imagination.

  Where was Marla? The other staff? Why was the garbage can turned over? And why wasn’t anyone at the desk?

  Chapter 16

  Gunny heard the explosion and knew nothing good was going to come of it. Then cars pulled up all around the van. He wasn’t going to go for his piece, which was tucked in a plastic bowl and covered with a tea towel. There were too many of them. He heard the familiar clicking sounds of rifles and weapons being readied.

  “Please step out of the vehicle with your hands up,” the stern voice yelled. Bright light shone through the small portal of the front door. Gunny swore loudly so the men outside could hear him, and acted like he’d fallen, hitting the horn on the steering wheel to give the signal. As he slipped his pants down, leaving just his shorts in place, he swore again even louder and looked around, wondering if it would be the last time he’d see the cabin, then slowly pushed down on the door lever and stepped outside into the blinding light with his hands up.

  He saw outlines of sheriff’s hats and some baseball caps. No military, he was relieved to note. But then, the only military he was worried about would never let themselves be seen.

  He placed the back of his arm against his forehead to shade his eyes.

  “Turn around slowly,” came the next command. Gunny lowered his hands and started to turn.

  “Hands. Get your fucking hands in the air.”

  Gunny complied. But he turned his head as his wrists were jerked down by a uniformed officer and handcuffed together with two cuffs, due to Gunny’s girth.

  “You wanna tell me what I’ve done, officers? Is there a law against camping?”

  As he turned back to face the light, he heard someone whisper, “That’s Gunny.”

  So someone was military, or at least they hung out with military.

  “You’re no fuckin’ camper. Where are your friends?” the officer asked.

  “Back at the gym.”

  Someone in the crowd snickered and was silenced.

  “Mind telling me what’s going on?” Gunny persisted.

  “There were two murders out this way we’re investigating.”

  “Gents, do you mind? I’m not a well man. I’m standing here in my underwear. You caught me taking a piss, and then I was going to go back to bed and sleep off a hangover.” He squinted and nodded at the array of lights. “I sure as hell didn’t kill anybody. At least not tonight, anyways.”

  Gunny was glad he had thought to remove his pants down to his aloha shorts. Barefoot and bare chested. Hardly a threat.

  “Fellas, I’ve had a bad day. I’m a little plastered, and no threat to anybody.”

  “That’s for fucking sure.” A smooth-shaven, handsome, square-jawed officer in a light tan uniform strode to up to Gunny and gave him a sniff. The officer waved and immediately half the lights cut out. “You don’t smell like you’ve been on a bender, Gunny.”

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  “Not nearly as well as you’re going to.” The officer exhaled and stepped back, looking Gunny up and down. “You like pain, Gunny?”

  Gunny tried to stand as straight as he could, but the cuffs hindered him. “I’m Gunnery Sergeant First Class Joseph Hoskins to you, sir.”

  The officer hit Gunny on the kneecap with his baton. Gunny went down like a sack of bricks, hitting his head in the gravel, which caused a gash on his forehead just above his right eye.

  “Hold on, Warren. You got no cause to do that. He’s a local and well known to have no ties to any drug dealing.”

  Gunny didn’t recognize the voice, but the boots told him the man was not military, but local law.

  “Well, he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the lawman they called Warren noted.

  “I’ll admit that. But we might need his cooperation.”

  Red lights flared as a black Suburban pulled up. Two dark-clothed ATF uniformed officers got out and ran up. The three of them conferred, then broke. The two new men took Gunny into custody, pulling him up and placing him in the second seat of the Suburban.

  “Can’t I have my pants? Maybe some shoes?” he yelled from the open door.

  “Sure, I’ll get them.” A minute later his clothes were placed on the bench seat next to Gunny, who was still handcuffed, but now seat belted in. Before the Suburban backed up, Gunny heard the special agent tell Warren to wait for someone to come back and claim the Babemobile.

  “I already know who it belongs to,” Warren said.

  “So why didn’t you tell me? This guy owns this rig?” the ATF officer asked.

  “Nope. It belongs to Cooper, one of Kyle Lansdowne’s friends. And Coop was seen driving it off the base tonight.”

  “We got to get back to the fire. Don’t touch anything inside. If they don’t come in an hour, see if you can secure it and get back to town.”

  “What if there’s another homicide at the fire? I got jurisdiction.”

  The agent stepped to within three inches of Warren’s face and chest. “And how the hell would you know there was another body at the fire?”

  “That’s no fire, and you know it. That was an explosion. Like a military explosion.”

  “Fine. You wanna go back to the fire with us? Okay by me. But in your position, I’d be pretty darn pleased with the opportunity to catch up on my sleep. This hits the press and tomorrow you won’t have two minutes to yourself.”

  “I’ll post a guard. But I think I could be more help to you at the scene. Who knows, maybe Gunny will start to feel talkative.”

  Kyle couldn’t believe they were all leaving. All except one young deputy sheriff, who looked like he belonged in one of Cooper’s scout troops. The kid was barely legal age and skinny as the saplings they’d been hiding behind.

  After a quiet darkness descended on the area, Kyle got up behind the young lawman and whispered in his ear, “I don’t want to hurt you. Just going to tie you up.”

  The kid tried to turn around, but Kyle had him in a choke hold.

  “Nah, uh, uh. That’ll get you into trouble. You’re going to see my face soon enough, but not tonight, hear?”

  The kid nodded.
/>
  “Good boy.” Kyle patted his head. He had already secured the boy’s wrists with a zip tie. “You remember when you used to play Pin the Tail?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Just like that. Although I trust you, I’m going to make sure you don’t cheat.” Kyle applied a black nylon tape across the boy’s eyes. “Sorry, but it will pull out some eyebrows. Keep your eyes closed and it won’t get your eyelashes. They don’t grow back.”

  Kyle could feel the kid flinch at the thought of going through the rest of his courting life like a hairless freak. He sat the boy down next to a tree stump, then removed his service revolver and knife.

  Cooper was going to say something, but Kyle put his finger to his lips. He brought his two rolled up fists together, then pointed to the van. Cooper climbed inside to jump the vehicle for their getaway.

  Kyle and Fredo carefully lifted Mia into the back, placing her on the bed. Fredo looked down on her as though it were the first time he’d seen a naked girl. He found a clean sheet, placed it over her brown flesh, and patted her thigh.

  “You’re safe now, honey. You warm enough?”

  She nodded, but was shaking and biting her lip. Fredo placed a blanket over her, and she smiled back up at him.

  Kyle and Cooper ran back to where they’d left the RTVs.

  Cooper was walking around the little toys, their shiny surfaces glistening in the moonlight. Kyle could tell he was admiring them. The Nebraska Team guy was a man who loved his toys and gadgets even more than his women, Kyle thought.

  “We can’t bring them.”

  “How about one?”

  Kyle thought about it. He’d seen a steep drop around one of the curves Cooper had driven past on their way out. “Okay, one. But one we gotta dump and burn.”

  He knew it was going to break Cooper’s heart to see a perfectly good vehicle ruined, but there was no way around it. They needed just a little time as well as the possibility of sending a message to Timmons for help, maybe draw off some of the heat. A fire would do that.