SEAL Camp

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “Uh-oh,” Dunk muttered.

  “So… this is not typical?” Jim muttered back, just to confirm.

  “Not even close,” Dunk muttered. “We’re inclusive, of course, and we occasionally get women, which is great, but I do like to have advance planning, because, well… Some campers aren’t as open to letting girls into their boys-only playtime. In fact, I’ve been thinking about offering a women-only class, but… We’re picking up what I thought were brothers. Clark and A. DeWitt. And someone else named… Ken Price.”

  “Maybe the kids are Clark and A,” Jim offered, “and she’s just the incredibly hot nanny…?”

  Oops, he’d said that a little too loud—she was close enough to have heard him, and her mouth tightened as her cheeks flushed. But she aimed a smile at Dunk as she asked, “Are you Senior Chief Duncan? I’m Ashley. DeWitt. The lawyer from California….?”

  The A stood for Ashley, and she was a lawyer, not a nanny. Jim knew that last piece of info was for him, even though she didn’t deign to look at him again.

  In fact, she barely glanced in his direction, even after she’d introduced her brother Clark—the Spike-the-vampire wannabe—and his friend Kenneth-not-Ken-with-the-Colin-Firth-accent. Even when Dunk intro’d Jim as one of his new camp instructors, she only gave him the vaguest of polite smiles.

  As they walked out into the brilliance of the day, heading to the parking lot, Ashley chatted easily with Dunk. It wasn’t until they got to the SEAL World van that Jim caught up and realized they were talking about the technology behind Dunk’s prosthetic, which was interesting. Most people either stared or ignored—he would’ve taken Ashley for a full-on ignorer.

  Or maybe Jim was the one that she was going to ignore for the entire week.

  * * *

  A few short miles outside of Sarasota, the suburbs rapidly vanished, giving way to orange groves and fields of cattle.

  And although the camp was well off the main road, the compound was far less rustic than Ashley had feared it would be. It was located at the site of an old RV park, and the participants were housed in a motley collection of ancient but well-kept trailers in all shapes and sizes. Some were streamlined and white, some were bubble-shaped and shiny silver, some were square and brightly colored. All were hooked up to water and electricity, but instead of being parked close together in tight rows, they were scattered throughout the sandy-soiled, pine-and-palm-treed campground, nestled in their own private patches of shade.

  It was actually quite charming.

  As was Dunk. During the drive, Ashley’d had a chance to tell him that she was close friends with Colleen and Bobby Taylor—and he knew Chief Taylor well. As did Lieutenant Jim Slade—the significantly less charming giant SEAL instructor who’d called her a hot nanny.

  “I’ve got to reorganize the barracks assignments before I hand out keys,” Dunk announced after he’d parked the van in front of the big central building that bore the sign Mess Hall. He grinned at Ashley as he led them inside. “I’d originally given you the double, put you in with your brother, but—”

  “Oh, God, no, please and thank you,” Ash said. The spacious room was filled with long picnic-styled tables with attached benches. An open counter looked into a large kitchen.

  Dunk laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “Kenneth, are you okay sharing with Clark?” Ash asked.

  “Of course.”

  “You can just switch me and Kenneth,” she told Dunk.

  “Yeah, no,” Dunk said. “I mean, essentially yes, that is what I’ll do. I just need to check where I put Ken and… My office is right here—” he pointed to a door. “Give me ten to do that administrative work. In the meantime, feel free to wander. Gedunk’s over there—” he pointed toward a small alcove off the mess hall that bore a sign Honor Gedunk “—lounge is in the back.” And with that he was gone.

  “What’s a Gedunk?” Ashley asked Clark as she went to look. Was it some sort of play on the man’s nickname?

  The walls of the alcove were lined with tables that were filled with SEAL World hats and T-shirts and sweatshirts, as well as snacks and supplies from a drug store. Cold meds and Tylenol and shampoo and Q-tips.

  “Gedunk is Navy slang for the place on a ship where sailors can buy snacks and sundries.”

  She looked up to see the annoying Lieutenant Slade leaning against the alcove’s frame. He’d been limping—just a little—as they’d walked to the parking lot of the airport.

  “I always liked that word: sundries,” he added with a smile that softened his harshly craggy features. With his sparkling blue eyes and dark, wavy hair she might’ve even found him handsome, had he not already proven himself to be a first-class idiot.

  He pointed to an iPad that was permanently attached to one of the tables with something that looked like a bicycle lock. “If there’s something you need, you scan the barcode. I bet five dollars Dunk’s gonna give everyone their own PIN.”

  “That makes sense,” she said politely, smiling slightly in his general direction as she went past him, back into the mess hall.

  “Whoa, Kenneth, check this out!” Clark exclaimed as he and his friend disappeared through the door labeled Lounge.

  She followed them in—it was a fairly large room that had clearly once been a kid’s arcade—filled with pool and foosball tables, pinball machines, and even old-school, ancient video games.

  “Oh, my God, this is an original Space Invaders!” Kenneth howled, forgetting to be British in his delight.

  “PacMan’s set for five games for a quarter!” Clark, too, was over the moon.

  “Space Invaders is, too!”

  Ashley was more interested in the bamboo bar that stretched across a full wall. This was clearly an evening hangout area where the campers could socialize. There were several craft beers on tap, plus a large wine fridge. Like the Gedunk, it was serve yourself, although a sign proclaimed a reasonable two drink limit.

  Another sign said We reserve the right to close this bar at any time for any reason.

  That, too, seemed fair.

  The boys had found a change machine, but couldn’t get it to work. “There’s nowhere to insert anything.” Kenneth was puzzled. “Not dollar bills or credit cards. It just keeps asking for my PIN.”

  “I’m pretty sure the whole camp’s designed so you don’t have to carry any cash or cards.” The giant SEAL had followed her again. “Or keys. The trailers are locked with keypads.”

  “Do you have any quarters?” Clark asked Ashley.

  “I don’t,” she said. She’d cleaned out her bag before this trip, and she’d used her credit card for the coffee she’d bought in the airport.

  “I got a few.” Lieutenant Slade had two quarters in the palm of his giant hand.

  “Oh,” she said. “No, that’s okay,” even as Clark exclaimed “Yes! Thank you!” as he grabbed them and ran.

  “He’s twenty, going on twelve,” she told the man. “I’ll make sure he pays you back.”

  “I’m not worried,” he said with another charismatic smile. “So how long have you known Colleen Taylor?”

  “Since college,” she said politely. “We were roommates.”

  “Lucky you,” he said. “She’s amazing. I’m one of the many in Team Ten who had a crush on her. Before she married Bobby, I tried to get her brother—Wes—to set us up.”

  “She is really great.” That was one thing—and possibly the only thing—they’d ever agree upon. Ashley gave the lieutenant a distant smile that she hoped he’d read as completely disinterested as she headed for the side door.

  Just as she’d suspected, it led to an outside patio where there was a large, gorgeous swimming pool with an attached hot-tub. Lounge chairs and umbrellas were positioned around it, their fabric in various shades of blue. It looked more like a resort than a boot camp.

  Outside of the pool’s fence was what looked like a playground, with a colorful rock-climbing wall, and a variety of other obstacles and
challenges.

  “That’s a smaller, less dangerous version of the BUD/S O-course.” Lieutenant Slade had followed her, again. He misread her frustration as confusion and gave her another of those smiles. “BUD/S stands for Basic Underwater Demolition-slash-SEAL. It’s the training we all go through to become SEALs. At first it’s not so much about the underwater demolition—it’s more about PT—physical training. On base, there’s a really punishing obstacle course that we have to complete in shorter and shorter amounts of time, both individually, and in teams. Even scaled down like this, it can really help with team-building.”

  “Team building?” she said with dismay. God, he was going to think she was an idiot, only able to parrot his own words back at him. Except, really, why should she care what this man thought about her. Hot nanny… True, she’d have to interact with him for the next week, but after that, she’d never see him again. “I didn’t realize that we were going to be working together with the other campers.”

  “Yeah,” he said, amusement in his eyes. “It’s SEAL Team. Rambo’s a myth—or at least he wasn’t SpecOps, Navy. If you ever read a book where the SEAL character is described as a loner, you throw that book against the wall. Hard.”

  “These days I mostly read on my iPad,” she told him.

  He laughed. “Okay, then, hit delete, or, what…? Archive, right?”

  She gave him another unfocused smile as she turned back to the door, but this time he blocked her.

  “Look,” he continued. “Before you go in, or before Thing 1 and Thing 2 come crashing out here to shriek about the awesome awesomeness of the pool, I’d… well, I’d really like to apologize.”

  Ashley finally looked up and met his eyes squarely for the first time since she’d seen him in the airport. They were unbelievably blue, and for once his relentless amusement was tempered—he was dead serious.

  “I know you overheard my incredibly inappropriate hot nanny comment and I am so sorry—not that you overheard, but that I said it,” he told her. “I was making a joke—trying to and failing doubly since it wasn’t even funny. I not only disrespected you, but I’m guilty of judging and valuing you based on your appearance instead of your whole self. And that sucks. I should know better because people often look at me and peg me as a knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing asshole. And that’s only true a fraction of the time.”

  She was so surprised—she was standing there with her own mouth slightly open. So she closed it. Cleared her throat.

  But the lieutenant didn’t seem to expect her to say anything, whether it was to accept his apology or not. He opened the door to the lounge for her. “Come on. Dunk’s probably ready for us. I’ll help you get your suitcases to your bunk.”

  Ashley found her voice as he followed her back inside. “That’s okay. I don’t need help. I followed the instructions on the website—it said to pack light, in a single suitcase, to leave valuables at home, and be ready to carry our own bag over uneven terrain.”

  “Wait,” he said, “that giant purple bag’s not yours?”

  She stopped to look at him. “And why would you assume that it is?”

  Because women stereotypically over-pack? She knew he was thinking along those lines and realized he’d put his foot in it, again, but instead he said, “The, uh, color…?”

  “Have you met Clark?” she said, starting for the mess hall. “When he got that bag, a few months ago, it matched his hair.”

  He laughed. “Of course it did. Well, I apologize, yet again.”

  “I’m also a really good driver,” Ashley told him, “and I happen to be great at science and math. And everyone’s gonna hate having me on their team. Am I the only woman here this session? I am, right? I honestly don’t know how I missed that detail about team-building on the website…”

  “You can be on my team,” Lieutenant Slade said. “You, me, Clark, and Kenneth.”

  “Kinda like sitting at the kiddie table,” Ash murmured. She sighed. “I was actually hoping to learn something, but okay. At least I won’t ruin anyone else’s SEAL World experience.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Hot tip. Slower runners stay to the left of the trail,” the camper nicknamed Bull mansplained to Ashley. “That way, you won’t get in the way of those of us who’re faster.”

  Big and beefy and dressed in camo gear that made them look ridiculous, he and his friend Todd had been to SEAL World before, and were filled with all kinds of condescending information.

  Ashley’s first night had been uneventful, but mostly because she’d retreated to her RV. After unpacking her gear, she’d taken her dinner back to her trailer—the mess was serving pre-made sandwiches since campers would be arriving all through the evening hours—and gone to bed early. She was hoping to get her body attuned to the eastern time zone as quickly as possible.

  Now, as the campers gathered in the sandy clearing outside of the mess hall in the dawn light, Bull had approached her to ask if she was one of the instructor’s girlfriends, hired on for the session as kitchen help.

  She was dressed exactly as he was—in running shorts and sneakers, since they’d been told the session would kick off with a group run.

  When she’d told him, “No,” and gone back to stretching, he’d then asked, “What, so you’re a local hire, then?”

  She’d finally told him what should’ve been obvious, “I’m here as a camper. Just like you.”

  Bull had laughed at that—first in astonishment, and then in horror. “Please God don’t let her be on our team,” he said to his buddy Todd, but loudly enough for Ash to hear him. “Most of us are here to get away from babysitting lesser-thans. Jesus. Just what we need. A girl on the team. Although, I’ve always said that the only thing this place is lacking is a few strategically placed camp followers, heh-heh, if you know what I mean. How about it, Ashley? You up for making some Benjamins on the side, in a little late night one-on-one?”

  As the two men laughed, Ashley didn’t respond—she just drifted away. Although, when she looked up, the big SEAL instructor named Lieutenant Slade was watching her closely. He was standing there, planted like a tree, legs slightly spread, big arms folded across his broad chest. He had on cargo shorts today—and had support braces on both knees.

  “Listen up, people!” Dunk sped around the camp in an electric vehicle that was a cross between a golf cart and a dune buggy—the tires were designed to handle the soft sand—and he now stood on the driver’s seat, holding onto the roll bar to address the campers.

  There were twenty-five of them gathered there—and Ash was indeed the only woman.

  What drugs had she been on, when she’d thought coming here would be a good idea…?

  “This run is not a contest or a race,” Dunk said.

  “This is totally both a contest and a race.” Ash turned to see that Bull had followed her. Great.

  “Your task today is to get a baseline,” Dunk continued. “With this run, and with all of the activities throughout the day.”

  “It’s all a contest,” Bull also continued. “Up at the range, in the pool, and running the O-course, too—although I’ll bet you’re great at the O. Uhhh, ohhh, uhnnn!” He made orgasm sounds. “Except, oops, it’s not that kind of O. Too bad, huh? I’m pretty freaking good at that kind of O, myself. Happy to show you, anytime you want…”

  God. Ashley moved away from him.

  “We’re also looking to create teams,” Dunk continued. “We will be grouping you with six other men—” he caught himself “—other people who have different skills set than you. So you may not complete this run with the fastest time. That’s okay. You might instead excel in the obstacle course, or up at the shooting range.”

  Shooting range. Ashley was dismayed. That’s what Bull had meant by range. She was not at all interested in learning how to fire a gun.

  “If you have not yet disclosed any recent injuries or physical limitations please do so now,” Dunk continued as Ashley once more moved away from Bull. She tried t
o focus on listening as the former senior chief ran through the fine-print of the agreement that everyone should’ve already read, and then introduced them to Lieutenant Thomas King, the camp’s almost impossibly young hospital corpsman—which was apparently Navy-Speak for medic.

  Dunk then introduced the other SEAL instructors. In addition to Lieutenants King and Slade, there was a Lieutenant O’Donlon and a Petty Officer Rosetti. O’Donlon was gleaming and golden, while Rosetti was possibly even younger than Lieutenant King—or maybe that was just an illusion because he was compact and wiry compared to the taller men.

  And yet Jim Slade towered over them all….

  “I want to stress the fact that our hospital corpsman, Lieutenant King, will be floating free,” Dunk was still saying, “and—I repeat—his authority will override your instructor’s and your team leader’s.”

  “Team leaders…?” Wait, weren’t the instructors the team leaders, but crap, Ashley had actually spoken aloud, and Bull had heard her.

  “Each team elects a leader from the campers,” he told her. “You should totally volunteer to do it. It’s fun.”

  Now, why did she get the sense that it would be anything but…? Ashley moved away from him again as Dunk ran through the last of the rules—what would happen if a camper decided to drop out.

  “If, at any time, you suddenly doubt your ability to make it through the program,” he told them, “we urge you to talk to an instructor about modifications that can and will be made to the various exercises. Trust me, we can make it work—said the man with one leg.” He laughed. “I’m hopeful this class will indeed trust me, but history says that two of you will be gone by tonight; another two by tomorrow, and five more by Monday. Don’t let it be you.”

  “Or do.” Bull was back. He was standing so close, his breath moved the tendrils of hair on Ashley’s neck. “Do let it be you.”