SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle

by S. M. Butler

  Her dark eyes widened in surprise. “You cannot be here!” She said in English, no less.

  Luke held up a business card. “Tell Dr. Morno that Luke Carter from the Guardians is here.”

  “Guardians?” She snatched the black card from his hand. When her fingers grazed his, she pulled back in alarm and dropped the card on her desk as if the card had bitten her.

  “That’s the name of my company…” He read her nametag. “…Deolina.”

  “What do you want wid her?” She studied him as if he had eight legs.

  It had to be at least ninety degrees inside the clinic and he would have killed for an ice cold bottle of Bud. “Page Dr. Morno. Please.”

  “I do not like it. None of it,” she said with a huff. “You wait.” She pointed to the seating area.

  He walked out of her cage.

  All fifteen patients were looking at him again. Where would these people go when he closed the clinic doors? Who would help them?

  He squashed the spreading guilt. The money spent here would be redirected to save other lives, most importantly his daughter’s. Making his way to the back of the room, he leaned against a lime colored wall and waited. And waited. Time dripped like tar. He assumed the receptionist, Deolina, had sent him straight to the bottom of her list. He’d be lucky if he saw Dr. Morno this century.

  A door opened and a young twenty-something guy in pale-green clinic scrubs came out. He rushed toward Luke saying, “You there. Don’t move.”

  Luke noticed the kid’s lip was pulled up in a snarl and his eyes were angry enough to shred skin. “Are you talking to me?” He read the nametag. “Tico?”

  The kid’s heavy-lidded gaze raked over him as if he was the stupidest American he’d ever had the misfortune to glare at. A wild mass of dreadlocks, barely tamed by a thick, pink rubber band curled about his head like a living thing trying to hang on. Tico was small, barely five-foot-six, tough and lean.

  “You’re the only one demanding to see the doc who ain’t dyin’”—his gaze scanned over Luke’s suit and rested on his luggage—“yet. Why are you here?”

  “Business. Here’s a wild and crazy idea, why don’t you talk to the receptionist and tell her that I refuse to wait any longer.”

  “Tell Deolina?” Tico’s eyes widened. “Nobody tells Deolina nothin’ she don’t already know. The doc ain’t expectin’ you, chief. And she’s busy. You better go home.”

  “That’s it!” He hadn’t traveled this far to be blocked by a cocky kid and a receptionist with an attitude. Luke popped off the wall, crossed the room to the metal door with the NO ENTRANCE sign, and started pounding.

  A claw-like grip seized his shoulder. “This is a clinic, man.” Tico motioned with his head toward the patients sitting in hard plastic chairs. “These people don’t want trouble.”

  He narrowed his eyes at the kid. “Dr. Morno. Now.”

  “I’ll take you to her office through the back entrance.” He lowered his voice. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think that you’re seeing the doc first just ’cuz you banged on the door.”

  Luke shrugged on his backpack, slung the laptop bag over his right shoulder, and patted the pouch with his passport, tickets, Visa, and money hanging inside his shirt. Like a domesticated pack mule, he followed Tico’s lead.

  Tico pulled him by the elbow out into the blinding sunshine and around the corner of the building. “See that door?”

  Luke squinted. “Through the alley?”

  “That’s the VIP entrance, chief.”

  The stench of rotten food and hell-knew-what filled his nostrils. He breathed through his mouth to avoid smelling, until he realized he could taste the stench. He put his fist up to his nose.

  The movement drew Tico’s gaze to his watch. “Hey, that’s a Rolex Submariner, isn’t it? What’d it run you? Ten G’s?”

  Luke wasn’t about to discuss the cost of his watch with the kid. “It was a gift.”

  Tico lifted his chin. “Must be nice having rich friends.”

  “Can we move it?” He picked up speed, determined to get through the back door without breathing.

  Tico caught up. “You a big shot, chief? A tough guy?” He flashed Luke a grin that could have meant anything or nothing.

  He kept moving, wishing he could shake the kid once and for all.

  A loud bang behind an overflowing trash bin made him jump. Whatever was shuffling around back there sounded big. Man-sized big. Luke backed up slowly having no intentions of coming eye-to-eye with the kind of rat a Haitian alley produces.

  That’s when Tico’s boot arched up and kicked him in the crotch.

  “Son…of…a—” He should have seen it coming. Bent over Luke looked up into the eyes of a madman.

  “How do you like your scrambled eggs?” Tico erupted in laughter.

  He didn’t. When he was able to recover, he was going to show crazy Tico just how much he didn’t like it. For the moment he was going to focus on not passing out.

  Someone clubbed him across his backpack. Air exploded out of his lungs and his legs crumpled. Face down on the filthy pavement, his things scattered all around him, Luke tried to comprehend. Tried to breathe. A strange sound wheezed from his chest. His lungs were on fire.

  Crazy Tico brought friends.

  He searched for a weapon. A stick, bottle, knife? No luck. He grimaced. There’s only one thing to do when you find yourself up shit alley—he jumped to his feet and took a swing. And then another. Luke’s right buckled Tico’s legs. His foot to Tico’s gut knocked the air out of the kid and sent him reeling backward.

  Something solid connected with the pack on Luke’s back. Several thugs circled him, yelling words he couldn’t understand. They poked him. Taunted. Playing torture the American.

  Old SEAL instincts took over. He’d been in worse spots before. Of course, he had a team of SEALs beside him then and wasn’t alone. Never alone. Hell, he wished Mack was here. Luke charged, ramming his shoulder into one guy’s solar plexus and smashing him hard into the trash bin. With the crack of cartilage, Luke broke the guy’s nose. His jaw was soon to follow. The guy screamed gibberish and Luke was suddenly yanked back by his backpack.

  Spinning, he sized up the gang. No guns. One guy had a knife. The others were clenching their fists. Strangely, Tico backed up as if his heart wasn’t really in it. Good. Three guys in the fight, one crying in pain from his broken nose, one knife, one crowbar. Okay odds for a SEAL. Too bad he hadn’t been in a good fight in years.

  Fists, feet, words flying at him. He fought back, hard. His fists were slick with blood. His mostly. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and kept punching, blocking, kicking, jabbing. Holding his own.

  Fire sliced up his leg. He took a quick look down and saw his blood darkening his suit pants. Too fast. He’d been stabbed. If the bastards cut his femoral artery…He felt weak and dizzy. Suddenly, the odds weren’t great.

  The gang pummeled him to the ground, taking turns kicking him. He got to his feet once and made it worth the effort until the crow bar knocked the air out of his lungs. He was shoved back down onto the pavement. He tried to roll out of the way but it was impossible. He was trapped.

  Tico yelled. “Pinga. Rolex!”

  A knee slammed between Luke’s shoulder blades, pinning him to the jagged asphalt and the watch was yanked off his wrist. He threw his arms over his head and yelled for help. They kicked him harder. Blood filled his mouth. His ears rang.

  They were no longer playing.

  Luke grabbed the foot of one of his assailants and twisted. The guy yelped, hobbling away. Retaliation was a punishing kidney shot. Luke swore in agony.

  Sunny’s pretty face popped into his mind. Dear God, his beautiful daughter. If the bastards killed him, she’d be alone in this world. He couldn’t let that happen. Anger surged through him.

  He struggled to get up. “I’m going to rip your arms off…” he growled, blood bubbling in his mouth.

  The other kidney got it.


  He made it to his hands and knees. “…and beat you…upside your ugly…”

  Someone stood on his leg and ground on his Achilles tendon.

  “…heads!” he screamed.

  “I’d like to see you try, tough guy. This is for Dr. Morno!” Tico said.

  The rounded toe of a boot connected with Luke’s temple. Pain exploded through his brain like shrapnel, turning out the sun.

  *

  “Dr. Morno?” A nurse knocked on the door and peeked into the lab. “Sorry to interrupt, but Tico’s in the alley killing himself a white man.”

  “What?” Ysabeau’s heart stopped. “Not again.” She raced out the glass doors yelling to the receptionist, “Deolina, call an ambulance!”

  She hadn’t thought to be afraid. Tico was tough and headstrong, but she knew she could talk sense into him and get him out of whatever mess he’d stepped into. Rounding the corner, she got the surprise of her life—Tico wasn’t fighting one man, it was a savage gang beating. Over and over three men hit someone who was already unconscious. Maybe dead.

  She’d never seen anything like it in her life. Bile rose in her throat. “Stop it!” she yelled. “Leave him alone!”

  Tico was standing away from the others holding an object up to the sunlight. A watch? He blinked at her with surprise. “Dr. Morno?”

  The others resembled a pack of blood-thirsty animals. Repulsion and terror rolled through her. When they turned their faces toward her, she saw no remorse, no fear, only hatred raw and pure.

  Backing up slowly, she steadied her legs for the race into the building. She was in big trouble. She’d become a witness to assault and robbery at best, murder at worst. They couldn’t afford to let her live.

  “The police…” She fought to control her voice. “…are coming.”

  “You called them, lady? We thought you were cool,” one of the gang members snarled. He had a scar across his lip and black, black eyes. She couldn’t stop staring at his blood-splattered fists.

  “Police are not cool.” A small teenager swaggered toward her. His eyes were dancing with excitement. She wondered if he’d killed before.

  “Hey!” Tico yelled. “Leave her alone!”

  “Who’s gonna make us? You?” The third snickered. He was big and the scariest of them all. He reminded her too much of another bad man who attacked her. A shudder of revulsion rolled through her and her legs went weak.

  They circled her.

  Concern for the beaten stranger quickly became terror for her own life. “Please…just go,” she begged.

  “No one calls the cops on us,” the teen said. “Not even a pretty lady doctor.”

  “I said leave her alone!” Tico lunged toward the others.

  Ysabeau screamed and ran for the building. She’d never make it before they caught her. They were younger, stronger, and faster than she was. Their shoes pounded the pavement just behind her. They’d be on her in a second.

  Shock flashed in her brain. This is how her life was going to end? After all she’d been through?

  “Help me…!” She yelled.

  The teen caught her by the arm. He smiled at her triumphantly. “Hold still pretty doctor.”

  “No!” She struggled to pull away.

  “Dr. Morno!” Tico yelled from far, far away.

  A siren blared from the boulevard. The gang members froze. It was her chance.

  “Help!” Yelling as loudly as she could, she yanked her arm free. She tore through the teen’s grasp with such force it knocked her off-balance. She fell to her knees.

  Panic flooded her veins. She had to get up…had to…run! But her legs didn’t work properly. Please, please!

  Ysabeau crawled as fast as she could toward the building that seemed a thousand meters away. She was sobbing now, knowing exactly what was going to happen to her in this alley. “Don’t hurt me!” She braced for the first blow.

  The siren wailed, echoing down the alley.

  There was a flurry of movement and noise behind her. Something poked her in the back and she screamed again.

  “Dr. Morno! It’s okay.” Tico touched her shoulder. “They’re gone.”

  Ysabeau glanced behind her. He was right. “They’re gone?” She blinked in amazement.

  The police sirens were growing softer.

  “Let me help you up,” Tico offered.

  She batted away his hand and rose to her feet on quivering legs. “Will they come back?”

  “No.”

  She wasn’t going to die in the alley. But Tico might. She punched Tico in the shoulder. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Me?” His face was awash in surprise and hurt as he rubbed his shoulder.

  Muttering under her breath, she wobbled down the alley toward the stranger in the very expensive, very bloody suit.

  Tico raced ahead of her and stood over the victim as if he’d captured a wild boar, not beaten a man half to death. “Don’t worry, Doc. He can’t bother you now.”

  Bother her? The stranger was unconscious. Blood dripped down the side of his face, pooling around his head. She knelt to check for a pulse. Letting out the breath she was holding, she said, “Thank God. His pulse is strong.”

  “I can fix that,” Tico snarled.

  The fear flooding her senses turned to rage. “You could have killed him! Do you want to go to jail for the rest of your life?”

  Tico’s eyes blazed. “To protect you? Yeah, I would.”

  Sitting on the pavement, she gently laid the stranger’s bloody head in her lap and prayed the ambulance would be here soon. The sirens that had scared the gang away were long gone. To her surprise, the man’s eyes opened.

  “You’re going to be okay,” she said the stranger. She hoped she wasn’t lying.

  “Help me…” The stranger whispered, struggling to get up.

  Her heart broke. “I will.” Gently, she smoothed his blond hair off his forehead. “I promise. I’ll take care of you. Please, lay still.” She used the edge of her blouse to wipe some of the blood off his cheek.

  He let his head settle into her lap and closed his eyes.

  “Go inside and make sure Deolina called an ambulance,” she whispered to Tico.

  He shook his head. “Nu-uh. I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

  She had a strong connection to this stranger. If not for the sirens, she would’ve been like him—lying in a pool of her own blood. She caressed his face. Poor, poor man.

  Clenching her teeth, she whispered to Tico, “You promised me you’d quit the gangs.”

  “I did quit. Until this guy showed up.” The hateful glare he threw at the man sent a shiver up her spine. She’d always thought of Tico as her little brother. She’d forgotten how dangerous he could be. “He oughtta be dead.”

  That stole the breath from her chest. “Who is he?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Tico, start talking right now—!” The sight of Deolina charging down the alley like a wild bull interrupted her thoughts.

  Deolina yelled. “Eeya, Ysabeau! Don’t touch him. Quick, Tico, throw the body in the dumpster.”

  “Deo! He’s alive.” Ysabeau said. Had the whole world gone crazy?

  “I told you, I can fix that,” Tico said.

  “Do it!” Deolina said.

  “No! What’s the matter with you two? Tico, back off. And Deo, please tell me the ambulance is on its way.”

  “Yep and it’s bringin’ the police with them. Tico is as good as caught if we don’t act fast,” Deolina said.

  Panic seized Ysabeau’s thoughts. Tico deserved to be arrested for his part in hurting this man, but how could she let that happen? She was supposed to be protecting him, giving him a new start at life, as she’d promised his mother on her deathbed. What was she going to do?

  “Um, jail’s not a safe place for me,” Tico whispered. “Too many inmates would like to see me dead.”

  New sirens wailed in the distance. This was terrible. Ysabeau couldn’t lose another
person she cared about. Her heart couldn’t take it. “Tico, get my car. It’s around back. We’ll take the stranger to my house.”

  Tico took off at a run toward the parking lot.

  “He’s not a stranger.” Deolina showed her the black business card she held in her hand. “This here says that he’s a Guardian.”

  Ysabeau gasped. “Oh no. No, no!” She looked down at the man whose head she held in her lap. “Tico had better not have killed my boss.”

  *

  Ysabeau sat at the kitchenette in her breakfast nook with her head in her hands wondering what she was going to do with the Guardian sleeping on her couch.

  Deolina stood behind her, running water in the sink. “Ever have days when you see the future and still can’t change it for spit?”

  Ysabeau sighed. “I don’t have visions, Deo. If I did, I wouldn’t have gotten up this morning.” Or maybe she’d have done something to stop what had happened in the alley.

  She felt horrible for the poor, unfortunate Guardian. She’d given him a full examination and determined his injuries were not as bad as they could’ve been. No sign of internal injuries, or punctured lungs. His ribs seemed to be badly bruised but not broken. The cut on his leg was deep but the knife missed his femoral vein. She had stitched up his wounds, cleaned his cuts, and given him antibiotics and a painkiller. Now, she hoped he’d sleep for a long while so she could untangle this mess.

  “That’s just it. You still gotta get out of bed and hope the world doesn’t go to hell,” Deolina said quietly. “Like you picture it.”

  Ysabeau slapped her palm on the table. “Why’d Tico do it? He swore he’d stop the fighting.”

  Wrapping a wet paper towel around her neck, Deolina turned her face up toward the ceiling fan. “After what happened with the bad man?”

  Ysabeau’s heart did a little shiver. “I don’t talk about that. Ever.”

  “So why’d you go and bring it up?”

  “I didn’t…I mean…I’m just upset. What possessed Tico to think I needed protection from the Guardians?”

  “I mighta said somethin’.” Deolina focused her gaze on her fingernails. “To Tico.”

  She stared at the black magic priestess sitting at her kitchenette. Sometimes her godmother’s hit-or-miss future-seeing skills drove her crazy. “And?”