“How much?”
The Berber guide tried to insert himself again, but Mark gave him a glare.
“Not the quality. Not the quality.”
“I don’t care a fuck about the quality. What’s the price?” It became a matter of principle. He wanted that necklace for some reason, and was willing to overpay for it. It became important that he have it.
“Your lady will not be pleased,” the guide tried to say.
“There is no lady. It’s for me,” Mark said a little too loudly. Instantly Rory and Kyle were at his elbow.
“Easy there, partner,” Kyle said.
“Kyle, get this monk off my ass, will you?” he growled to his LPO.
Kyle occupied the robed guide while Mark negotiated sixty euros for the necklace, which was about half of what he’d expected to pay. The shopkeeper put it around his neck and gave him a toothless grin. Mark handed him another five Euro bill.
“For the dog,” he pointed to a skinny mutt asleep on a pile of blue plastic bags. He tucked the necklace into his shirt and felt the cool stones begin to warm from his skin. He thought about what they would look like on Sophia’s smooth, tanned body, how perfectly they would drape between her breasts with those full, dark areolas that would pucker when he touched them. The vision alone was worth the euros, even though he was fairly sure he’d never get that chance again.
Not unless she got the itch.
They watched the twirling dancers, the snake charmers and spice vendors, all calling for coin. There wasn’t any way he was going to touch one of the black cobras, didn’t matter they had been milked of their venom. Snakes gave him the creeps. He outran one teenager who had picked up on this and was enjoying taunting the overbuilt American with the soft heart.
Get your shit together, Mark.
If the kid got too close again he was fully prepared to use the KA-BAR strapped to his shin and decapitate the squirming black creature, and to hell with the fact that it would be a very stupid move.
Their guide led them through tunnels of makeshift shops, weaving around back and forth, probably in an effort to disorient the travelers. The rest of the group was getting restless because they weren’t being allowed to shop. At last the group came to a small metal building and everyone was herded inside, then made to sit.
“The oil will make your skin look twenty years younger,” the guide said. That might work on the tourists who were in their fifties and sixties, but one glance at the girls with the Team guys and he realized his mistake. “In your case, ladies, it will help you look young forever.” An uneasy tension descended upon the room.
Mark connected with each of the men, and they got up, pulling the girls with them. “No thanks. We’ll be outside,” Kyle said.
Despite the guide’s voluble attempts, the rest of the group followed right behind, so that the whole room emptied in a stampede worthy of a good western, leaving the tour guide in the midst of an argument with the shop owner.
Lunch was served in an old building exquisitely decorated with inlay of agate, marble and sandalwood. The squishy-carpeted hallway led them to a wide room, where several other tours from their ship were already seated around brass tables. They took their places amongst silk cushions while tea was served.
A three-piece group began to perform Arabic music with heavy drums. A veiled woman snaked her way into the center of the room, a silver tray lit with candles balanced atop her head. She took turns in front of all the tables, but stayed especially long in front of the SEAL group.
Mark was transfixed with how she could shake her rear while still managing to shimmy her chest, all while bending backward and balancing the tray. She encouraged him to come dance with her, and his buds gave him the rest of the impetus he needed.
Suddenly self-conscious of his cargo shorts and flip-flops, he attempted to match her grace, but fell short. She took his hand, entwining his fingers with hers, and moved her stomach muscles back and forth, undulating to the beat of the music, encouraging him to do the same. Mark worked as hard as he could, but couldn’t be as supple as she was. He felt ill at ease—stupid, in fact.
She sashayed around to the front of him and pulled up his shirt, exposing his abs. The audience went wild with whoops and hollers. Holding the shirt with one hand, she stood close to him—actually a little too close to him—and showed the audience his lower torso. Again, to the beat, with red fingertips holding up his shirt delicately, she undulated her muscles, and he did the same next to her. The crowd of tourists went wild.
The two of them made their way around the room. Several of the SEAL wives ran up and put bills in his belt. The more he tried to copy her movements, the more he was catching on to her gentle rhythm. The beats from the little trio behind him began to get louder and ran faster.
At last the song was over. She bowed, still holding his hand. She removed the silver tray from her head and took another bow, keeping Mark alongside her.
All of a sudden, the trio behind them resumed their ancient beat, as the dancer in white floated away, leaving Mark in the center. He began his retreat back to the corner when another dancer, this one in red, covered with silver coins, her skirt hung low on her belly as she shimmied up to him and danced around him, her dark eyes toying with him, pulling him out to the dance floor.
She arched her beautiful back and swan-like neck, leaning to look at him over her shoulder, getting closer and closer until she turned away at the last minute. Her heavily made up eyes twisted a pain in his gut. He couldn’t see her lips from under the veil, but his eyes became transfixed on the lovely tanned flesh quivering as she shook her hips from side to side in a figure eight. The small pillows of flesh at the sides of her belly button shook seductively.
Her slow undulations ended in a swishing from side to side as her hips jiggled the little coins attached to the dangerously low waistband. He found it easy to follow her. As she turned, touching the finger cymbals together, hands above her head; he turned in unison until they had moved a full circle. Instead of using her shoulders or hands as his guide, he followed her stomach muscles, and matched her movement. It could have been his imagination, but he felt a hush fall over the crowd.
The dance ended and she bowed, retreating behind the curtains in the corner. He had the desire to follow her, which of course was really stupid.
Back at his seat he got ribbed.
The little Marrakesh band continued making music with their ancient instruments. Mark and Sanouk were like two clueless travelers on the same path, trying to figure out what they were eating. It was hot, which didn’t seem to be a problem for Sanouk, it was colorful, and it tasted unlike anything he’d had before.
“You have bars in California where the dancers do this?” Sanouk asked.
Mark laughed. “There are a few, some Greek and other ethnic restaurants. Not bars, at least not tastefully done like she did. We’ll see if we can find a couple for you.”
“That would be most awesome, Mister Mark.” After a few seconds, Sanouk asked another question. “Can you please tell me what you think of as tasteful? The woman has so little clothing—”
Mark could see the beginnings of a blush rising in the young man’s face.
“We have dancers, but they don’t do this sort of thing, at least not in front of so many people.”
Mark wrapped his arm around Gunny’s son’s shoulders. His attachment was getting more fatherly every day, even though the two of them could have been brothers. “I know Gunny tried to impart some knowledge before he passed over, Sanouk. One thing I’m sure he never told you—would never tell you in a million years—was that he was a damned good judge of human nature, especially women.”
Sanouk’s eyes widened as he reared back and away just a little.
“He loved women. He just wasn’t the stay at home and take care of them kind. He was always off on one adventure or another. In his own way, I think he fell in love every time he married one of his wives. He just lived in the wrong time, in the wrong
culture, in the wrong set of circumstances. You understand?”
“Yes. My mother said the same of him, often. Mark, I think she thought the same of herself.”
“So you see, she let her heart do the calling. She probably defied all the advice of her elders, and lived her life with her heart. She knew some day she’d see him again. That you’d have a relationship with him, too.”
“Yes, I believe that.”
Mark saw the woman in the red costume, now changed into jeans and yellow cruise ship T-shirt, quietly enter the room from a door opposite where she had exited. At first he wasn’t sure, but the sultry look on her face as she turned in his direction to get a quick peek before she huddled in with the tourist crowd several tables over was unmistakable.
Sophia
It made for an interesting conversation with Sanouk, as the young Thai knew Mark had been distracted by something, someone. He waited patiently for answers to his questions, sometimes having to wait for Mark to even realize he’d asked something. Mark searched the crowd at her table. Most of the time she hid her face from him.
They finished lunch and everyone was herded out according to their bus numbers. Mark was going to try to jump ship to hers, but couldn’t find it, or her.
Kyle was beginning to catch on to what was happening.
“Mark, I told you that was never going to work.”
“What?”
“The forgetting the night of great casual sex. You know, that one.”
Kyle was right. Mark figured he had that hound dog look that probably gave him away.
“I didn’t know she’d be here, Kyle.”
“I’m guessing that you didn’t know she could dance like that, either.”
“Has nothing to do with it.”
“Um hum.” Kyle replied. “Look, Mark. Don’t go chasing rainbows. If she doesn’t want to be found, let her go, man.”
“After that little dance back there?”
“She’s making you pay. Big time.”
“No, she wants to be followed. She wants to be caught. I intend to give her what she wants.”
“Roger that, Mark. I’m glad one of you will get satisfied, then.”
Busses headed in separate directions as the various tours splintered off. Mark figured she’d gone with an Italian-speaking group. Their tour guide told them they had a few minutes before their bus would arrive, so their group decided to wait at a coffee house instead of getting lost in the innards of the souk again. Mark was relieved the guys wouldn’t have to try to restrain their girls.
He left their group to use the head. In a dark corner on the way, he saw an older couple kissing. He recognized the woman as the dark-haired lady with a cabin on their floor around the corner. The man she was with also looked familiar. When he returned to his group, the couple was gone.
He walked in on a conversation Kyle was having with the other Team guys. Christy and the girls were going over their purchases.
“See that building over there?” He pointed to a two-story coffee house with a balcony restaurant on the upper floor. A series of colorful lanterns and lights hung from the filigreed metal frame holding up shade tarps in green and blue. “That place blew up about two years ago. Terrorist bomb, right in the middle of the day.”
“No shit?” Cooper asked. “The whole place?”
“Well, nearly. About thirty people dead. Mostly native Moroccans, but it was and still is a place tourists hang out at. No one tells them this. They just keep coming back.”
“How’d you find out?” Tyler asked.
“Moshe. Kind of warned me where to go and what not to do.” Kyle leaned back and examined the ceiling of their the old stucco veranda. “This one is owned by the local Police Chief, and is probably the safest place on the square.”
It was a subtle reminder to Mark that nowhere was safe. And that a part of him always felt deployed.
Cruisin’ for a Seal: Chapter Nine
Their bus was the last to arrive at the gangway. The Team always rode in back, so they were the last to say farewell to Mohammed, their guide. The rotund man in his beige robe was short with them, but eyed the women with a special sparkle, especially lingering on Mia. Fredo’s protective arm over her shoulder didn’t allow their eyes to meet. The grin on the guide’s face looked devious.
Mark noticed a group of new crew members embarking at the second gangway, burdened with multiple bags with instruments, flags and costumes that overflowed like stuffing on a well-done turkey.
One of the members, carrying a large black duty bag similar to what the Team used, had some stringed instrument and several silver swords extending out two feet from the zippered opening. Mark could tell the bag was heavy. On the guy’s other shoulder was slung two stubby drums tied together. But what seemed odd was that he wore a set of full lace-up combat boots. Mark had a hard time imagining a dancer or a musician wearing that kind of gear.
The entertainment troupe disappeared into the bowels of the lower decks just as the Team made their way in. They placed their bags on the metal detector and had their cruise card scanned and verified by the security agents. Kyle chatted with a couple of Moshe’s detail, but Moshe was absent.
At zero deck passengers stood in line for the elevators up, but the troupe Mark had noticed earlier turned right and filed down the narrow halls of the crew quarters, past the medical station. The black duty bag was sitting in the hallway and the booted man hitched it up to his shoulder and followed his friends down the hall.
At the last minute, Mark saw the man turn around and eye him carefully, then reverse direction to follow his group.
Mark looked for Moshe and didn’t find the security officer at the crew gate, either. Two dark-skinned Indian security agents were assisting the rest of the dancers and crew on board, scanning bags.
Mark’s group headed down the narrow rows of cabin doors to the back of the ship on their deck. A cleaning cart was midway down the corridor. Several of the cabin doors were propped open and empty of passengers. The Filipino cabin steward had knocked on a door and then opened it. Inside was the dark lady Mark had seen in the coffee house in Marrakesh, half dressed and being kissed by a man in a single-striped ship’s officer’s jacket. That’s when Mark realized the plain-clothed man in the marketplace had been the same man, and was apparently one of the ship’s junior officers.
He looked away before the couple could notice that he saw them. The cabin steward was flustered and making apologies, and they heard the door slam after he retreated back to his cart.
Mark approached Kyle, who hadn’t noticed the cabin drama. “You see that?” he asked his LPO.
“What, man?”
“I just saw a couple in one of the cabins. Officer cavorting with one of the passengers? That sound right to you?”
“I think it happens, my friend. You’re about to go find that lovely Italian lass, and I’m guessing she’ll let you do pretty much anything you want with her,” Kyle answered.
Mark blushed. “An officer, Kyle. I know for a fact that’s not kosher.”
“I’ll have to ask Moshe about it, then. He’s joining us for dinner.”
In the hallway outside their cabin doors, Kyle gave directions. “At eighteen-thirty we meet up at the ninth floor Club Romanza. Moshe has a special table for dinner. Dress up. You’ve got a little more than an hour, okay, ladies and gents?” Kyle surveyed his Team and their wives. He inspected Fredo standing beside Mia outside her door. Jasmine was next to Christy. “Everyone shows up. Everyone,” he said as he nodded meaningfully at Fredo.
Had he not met Sophia, Mark would have been only too pleased to let Jasmine shower and dress in their cabin, since it was obvious Fredo and Mia had made some plans for the next few minutes. He didn’t think Sanouk would mind, either. The girl was lean and attractive, with light brown hair and bright blue eyes. She’d have been just Mark’s type. Perhaps that’s what Christy had in mind when she invited her. He decided to extend the offer.
“You need
a place to wash up, Jasmine? Sanouk and I would be happy to oblige.”
Rory and Tyler got within earshot. “You can use our shower, too,” Rory said with a blush.
Jasmine’s cheeks got pink as she smiled and looked down at pink toes that matched her rose-colored flip-flops. Mark liked shy girls, normally. Jasmine had not made a secret that she found him attractive, either.
Christy inserted herself. “Down, boys. She’s good, Mark, Rory. Thanks for asking. We got it worked out. But that was very sweet of you.” She followed up her words with a gentle kiss to Mark’s cheek and a wink in Rory’s direction.
Kyle rolled his eyes and followed Christy and Jasmine into his cabin just as the engines sprang to life and the announcement came over the loudspeaker that the ship was leaving port.
Mark wore his shades instinctively, but upon exiting the cabin, found none of his Teammates had done so, so he went back and left them on the dresser. Everyone but Kyle and Christy made their way single file down the long corridor, passing closed cabin doors, including the one with the mysterious dark lady and the officer. The cleaning cart was gone.
Waiting in the foyer by the elevators, they could hear a small combo playing one deck below. They could also feel the rumble of the engines as they headed out to sea. If they got to Deck 9 quickly enough, they might be able to see the receding lights of Casablanca harbor.
The private dining room only had a few tables. Like the rest of the ship, it was swirling with bright colors from Murano glass fixtures in amber and deep red. They were accentuated with strips of green and blue bubble lights that outlined the copper and chrome detail around the windows, ceilings and mirrored columns throughout the room. A large wait staff scurried around the tables, attending to the seated diners as well as working behind the long bar.
While they waited for Kyle and Christy, they were seated at a long oval table in the middle of the room and offered their choice of drinks. Mark scanned the sunset and could see the pilot boat pull away, back towards the shore. He surveyed his group. The good-looking men and radiant ladies could have been preparing for an advertising photo shoot. Tyler sat next to Jasmine, who demurely wore a black sequined sheath dress that showed off her substantial curves. Rory sat on her other side, his red hair flaming toward the ceiling with too much hair gel. Mia was glowing in red, of course, sitting next to Fredo, who almost looked uncomfortable in a dark suit jacket and button-down shirt.
Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors Page 66
