True Blue SEALs: Zak (True Navy Blue #1)

by Sharon Hamilton

  He got off with a warning and he had to promise he’d leave town by the end of the summer. He was flunking out anyway. The scholarship was toast and his world was looking pretty small.

  “Son, you either go away to college, or you go into the armed forces, or you hang out in Vegas with drag queens. Makes no difference to me. But Amy is off limits in a most permanent way.”

  No, Dobson, who had now made Chief, wouldn’t do him any more favors. And now he didn’t even get a chance to tell the Chief he was just passing through on his way to becoming one of America’s finest. Probably wouldn’t make any difference anyway.

  They arrived at the Emergency clinic close to ten that morning. Zak’s mother already had one message from his dad asking where the Camaro was.

  It was going to be a very long day.

  Chapter 2

  Amy Dobson got a call from her friend Margrit at the Santa Rosa Police Department informing her that Zak had been held overnight. And he wasn’t alone when he crashed his father’s Camaro. He was with a girl.

  Amy knew full well how much Zak’s father loved that vehicle. But that’s not what piqued her interest. She wanted to know about the passenger. Had Zak brought someone up with him to Santa Rosa? She’d followed his journey to Santa Cruz spying on him through Facebook. But this had come to an abrupt end when he joined the military. It was like Zak just dropped off the face of the earth with no posts on social media. Perhaps he’d blocked her.

  She’d told herself whatever became of Zak was of no consequence to her. But it was an indisputable fact, when she was underneath some hulk of a guy who was trying his hardest to rock her world and cause the next earthquake, Zak’s was the face she saw as she tried to get off. Back when they were dating heavily, all Zak had to do was look at her and her panties would get wet. He had more sex in his index finger than most the guys she knew would ever amass during their lifetime.

  “Who is she, Margrit?” Amy knew the clerk wouldn’t tell her, but she needed to ask anyway. She’d helped to get Margrit the job at her father’s station.

  “I’d have to go check—let me—”

  “No. I’m good. Was she okay?” Amy wondered if the passenger was Zak’s new girlfriend.

  “Took her to Memorial. No serious injuries, and he didn’t go to the hospital, if you want to know.”

  “You said that, Margrit. Said he was held over.”

  “And released to his mother this morning,” Margrit said helpfully.

  “Thanks.”

  Amy played with the screen on the phone, scrolling down through pictures. She and Zak at the ocean. She and Zak with selfies in bed. She and Zak completely shit-faced kissing in that photo booth at the fair the summer she turned eighteen, the legal age. Except that hadn’t mattered to either one of them, since they’d been screwing since she was sixteen.

  Even back then he was the only one who rang her chimes. He was the only one who didn’t fall all over himself to get in her pants. She loved that he tried to exercise restraint, and in the end, he would always cave. That’s the way he was. He was hers for as long as she wanted him, despite what he told himself, and despite whatever promises he’d made to some mystery woman who was in his car last night. Curiosity snaked its way up her spine as she wondered if he still felt the same way about her.

  Rich Wilson, a new addition to her Dad’s force, was coming over to take her to the Police Community Day at the park. Her dad would be there, of course, and she allowed Rich to curry favor with him by bringing his daughter to the party. She didn’t like local cops as dates because they were more concerned about what her Dad was thinking than what Amy wanted, but today she would put up with Rich as a means to an end.

  She fluffed her hair, adding some spray and fingering through it to add volume. Staring at herself in the mirror, she added a little extra eyeshadow and lip gloss over her red lip crayon. It was her reward for putting up with Rich. It made her feel a little naughty, wicked. Maybe Rich would get lucky tonight. What she really wanted was something else, but she refused to let herself dwell on it too much.

  “You look awesome, Amy,” Rich said on the front stoop of her father’s house. He was attractive in his clean-cut way. He wore a dark polo shirt that hugged his nice torso. He wasn’t huge, just well-built and took pride in how he looked. Eyeing him as she passed, she stepped out the door and let her heels clickety-clack down the concrete pathway, wondering why she couldn’t fall for the really good guys. Oh yes, it could be a fun night, rocking his world, blowing his mind with some things she’d learned, but her appetite was tempered by the smell and feel of hot fresh sex with Zak. She couldn’t help it if she was addicted to him. The taste of his kiss and the feel of his hands on her was still something she carried with her every day. It was like breathing.

  Young cops in his father’s Department always drove muscle cars or pickups with stick shifts. In either case, they didn’t hold a candle to the souped-up Ford with the bench seat Zak had in high school. His dad had helped him restore it. She loved the smell of the old leather seats and the way the crackle of the radio sounded as they parked and watched the lights, as if trying to find their story out there amongst the strings of twinkling gold and silver. There wasn’t any way to describe their relationship, really. They’d stare out at the jewel display, breathing hard, aware of the other, touching on that crackled leather seat. In the end the sirens always spooked him, as if her dad was sending a warning to him just before he did what he was no doubt going to do. She liked their little routine. Zak would protest, saying they shouldn’t get so physical again, and, in the end he’d lose to Amy’s persistence.

  “We never talk,” he’d said one time.

  “Seriously? You want to talk? With me?” Amy let her eyebrows drift up into her bangs. “Do you know how many guys want to take a taste of these?” She had pulled her shirt up and when Zak tried to take just a discrete peek, it was all over. His hunger burst forth like an exploded water balloon. They couldn’t get naked fast enough. Several times he fucked her before she could stop giggling at his urgency.

  They never talked about what it meant. It was just assumed it was only sex, not a lifelong commitment. Back then, that was all it needed to be. As Amy looked outside her window, listening to Rich describe how awesome her father was and what a good leader and example he set for all the young recruits, Amy realized for the first time that she missed those carefree days. She considered, briefly, that perhaps it had meant something deeper, but then she brushed that consideration away like a dust bunny.

  She let herself out of the car before Rich could get around to her side. “Dammit, Amy. I told you to let me get it.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Rich. I keep forgetting you are a gentleman. Just not used to it is all.” She smiled up at him and she could almost see his buttons melt as his chest extended. She gave him her hand as a peace offering.

  They walked across the bumpy lawn area that sometimes doubled as a Rugby field to the gathering of long tables covered in red and white checkered oilcloth. She heard her dad’s gruff voice carry from the barbeque pit he usually manned, followed by several deep guffaws and some back slapping. He was a well-liked Chief, Amy noted, but he also had a temper and never forgot a betrayal, no matter how small. The respect he earned was more derived from his boundaries than his easy going nature.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw that he’d noticed her arrival with Rich.

  “Going to pay my respects to the Chief,” Rich said to her ear as he gave her a little squeeze on her upper arms.

  “Fine,” she smiled back at the young policeman as she stifled a burst of irritation.

  Margrit joined her. She’d come alone, as usual.

  “Ginger Cooper. Not from here,” Margrit said, her cheeks bunched like those of a hairless chipmunk stuffed with peanuts. For a second, Amy wasn’t sure what she was referring to.

  “Where’s she from?”

  “Listed an address in San Diego.”

  “Oh.” It wasn
’t what Amy wanted to hear, finding out a girl from where Zak was stationed had come all the way up to give her competition. Amy knew she didn’t have any claim on Zak, but if this stranger was something special to him, she needed to know, for her own edification.

  “Jealous?” Margrit’s horn-rimmed glasses and frizzy hair made her look dorky, like a librarian.

  “Hardly.”

  Margrit sighed and looked over at the gene pool, most of them with wives and children. “You don’t fool me a bit, Amy. You’re as addicted to him as he is to you.”

  “Now you’re talking nonsense,” Amy said as she moved on.

  Chapter 3

  On the way home from the hospital, Zak’s mother headed over to an attorney’s office. Zak had kept mum all during the hospital visit, halfway expecting they’d get a call or the police would show up saying they were going to arrest him. His mom seemed to be on the same wavelength and mirrored his silence.

  He’d needed this chance, and now perhaps it was all going to be taken away from him. After finally getting himself together, going through the Navy’s basic training and an A school, he was finally allowed to try out for the Teams, something his recruiter had promised him. The Navy said they didn’t know anything about that promise. When he tried to reach the recruiter, the guy was gone.

  So he’d begged and insisted, passing up opportunities to go to Submarine School, based on his test scores which were the highest in the class. He didn’t care. He wanted his shot at the SEALs. Finally his orders had come through after months of arguing and fighting with the bureaucracy. It would totally suck if today, because of one fuckin’ going away party and a pissed off father of his ex-girlfriend, all of that was going to take away the one chance he had to turn his life around.

  Weston Stark was a tall man, easily six-foot-five or so. He loomed over Zak and squeezed his hand like he was at an arm wrestling competition. The handshake hurt like hell.

  “Congratulations, son.” He motioned for the two of them to take a seat in front of his desk. Zak resisted the urge to flex and unflex his fingers to determine if any of them were broken.

  “For what?” Zak shrugged as he lowered himself to the chair. “For ruining my father’s car?” He could feel his cell buzzing from messages he’d not picked up.

  “No. For enlisting in the Navy. Your mother is quite proud of you. I’m an old friend of hers from college years, you know.” Weston gave a feral smile at Zak’s mother while she stared down at her lap.

  “Well, that must have been yesterday. I doubt today she’s very proud of me now,” Zack said, trying to get his mom’s attention.

  “So what line of work are you going for?” Weston was wound up tight, sitting on the edge of his desk, still looming over both Zak and his mother. His suspenders held up expensive dark blue suit trousers. He wore cufflinks, something that wasn’t in Zak’s wardrobe either.

  “I’m starting BUD/S training next week. Qualification to become a SEAL.”

  “That right?” Stark let his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline. “Wow. That’s admirable. Best of luck with that. A tough course.” He quickly glanced between the two of them, his mother still examining her fingers.

  “Thanks.”

  “What made you decide to become, or at least try out for the Teams?”

  Zak remembered the day he’d read the article about the kid from Petaluma who had become a Navy SEAL. Ten years ago he and Zak played on the same soccer team for a bit. The boy went on to distinguish himself, and then was killed on his last deployment. Something in Zak’s DNA kicked in, and he realized it was time to go prove himself. Though living in Santa Cruz, he snuck up and attended the funeral, dodging local people who would recognize him. Their old coach was there, though. Coach Bardy gave Zak a heavy dose of reality.

  “You’re a fuckin’ screw up, Zak. Had all the potential Joel had, and you just threw it all away.” The coach was legendary for his in-your-face sidelines soccer dress-downs, when they were skinny kids just trying not to cry in front of all their teammates. It was what ultimately pushed Zak to football from soccer.

  Bardy went on talking about his friend, the homegrown hero, and how Zak didn’t have the balls to make it as an elite anything and would never measure up. As the man walked away, Zak was shaking in his shoes, fisting and unfisting his hands, tightening all the muscles in his upper torso. There and then, he decided, with the deepest conviction he’d ever had, that he’d live to make this man wrong.

  Stark was still staring at him when Zak looked up. Even his mom was waiting for him to answer the question.

  “Just something a man’s got to do, I guess. My rite of passage.” He carefully calmed his breathing, but his insides were boiling.

  Stark crossed his arms over his flat abdomen and slowly nodded, like he expected a longer explanation. Zak had never told anyone about this decision, and wasn’t about to do so today.

  “Mr. Stark, thanks for your time, but am I going to need a lawyer, sir?” He held his breath for his answer.

  “Good question.” Stark said as he pointed his forefinger to Zak like a gun, winking his left eye. With surprising speed, he whipped around the desk to sit in his wine-colored leather chair. Zak sensed the man had been an athlete at one time. He methodically laced his fingers between each other as if it was an art form, resting his forearms on his leather blotter perfectly centered in the middle without any other adornment except for an old snowglobe of a Christmas scene. The globe was missing nearly a third of its liquid and seemed out of place in the office. When Zak focused on it, Stark picked it up and placed it on the credenza behind him like he’d left it out by mistake.

  “You live under a lucky star, son.” Stark used a lot of big words and said several sentences before Zak realized the likelihood of charges being pressed were minimal. “They could still come after you, but I have it on good authority they’re not looking to cite you. I think holding you was just to shake you up a bit, to be perfectly honest.”

  He felt every muscle in his body relax with the relief that the accident wouldn’t taint his chances for the SEAL training. That took the number three concern from Zak’s mind. Number two was still the well-being of Ginger. His biggest worry was the confrontation that would in all likelihood take place today with his father.

  “Seems your blood alcohol came back clean.”

  “I told them I wasn’t drinking.”

  “The young woman you were with was way over the legal limit, poor thing.” Zak saw the feigned sadness in Stark’s face, like that of an undertaker.

  “I’ll bet.” Zak also knew that was the only reason she’d agreed to go home with him. At first it had been so she wouldn’t have to go home with one of his buddies who were all shitfaced. But after she kissed him and perhaps misinterpreted his meaning, he decided to go right along with the little charade and let the drama unfold.

  “I think the fact that you were a Navy guy garnered you some points, son.”

  Thank God for a little break, at least.

  “So like I said, your mother brought you in here to beg for me to represent you in what was looking like an ugly, ugly case.” He emphasized ugly like the preachers he saw on television. The more time Zak spent around Stark the less he thought of him. The word “beg” stuck in his craw.

  “Well, that truly is good news, then.” Zak put his hand on his mother’s shoulder and squeezed, silently asking her to look back at him. He was rewarded with a tired gaze followed up with a smile. The big elephant in the room was that there was still no cause for celebration.

  “We even have a good Samaritan who came forward and said she witnessed everything, said the melon truck driver hit you. She’s a security guard at the Junior College so she’s a credible witness.”

  Stark leaned back in an arch, hands clasped behind his head, elbows out to the sides, looking as pleased as if he’d just told them they’d won the lottery and were millionaires.

  Zak nodded. “Okay, then. All I have to do now is go s
ee Dad. Might as well get this over with.” Zak stood up and his mother popped up right beside him. Stark came to his feet and leaned over the desk to present a card.

  “You make sure your father calls me in case he has any trouble with the insurance company. I have all the information about the woman who was the eye witness, and I’d be happy to share it with him, if he likes.”

  “Thank you,” his mom said as she turned. Zak could tell she was trying to be polite, but when she took his arm, her fingers clutching his forearm, he could tell she wanted to get out of Dodge quick.

  Zak held up Stark’s card and waved goodbye. “Thanks for your time, sir,” he said as he ushered his mother safely out of the office.

  He helped her down the brick steps nearing the parked car. Zak finally found his voice. He was always careful with his mother’s feelings. She was the only one in the family who supported and believed in him, but she was in a lonely crowd of one. “Geez, Mom, a friend from college? The guy’s a shark.”

  “Was then too,” she answered. “Don’t ask.”

  “I just can’t see—”

  She stopped him before he could finish. “I said, don’t ask. He’s good at what he does and let’s just leave it at that.” She grabbed his arm and they continued to the car.

  Zak started to chuckle. “Mom, you got a little bit of the bad boys in your blood, I see.”

  “I said, shut up.”

  But Zak could see the little quirk upward on her lips. She was about to smile and really didn’t want to.

  They drove to the Chambers’ residence in silence. Just before they pulled up, Zak dialed Ginger’s cell and got her voicemail.

  “Hey there, Ginger. This is Zak. Just callin’ to see if you’re okay and all. I’m so sorry about last night. They told me you were released today, and I just wanted to check in. Give me a call, if you could.”