by Kaylea Cross
“You need anything else?” Her mom was asking him about needing a drink. Libby saw that yes, he did want one, but he shook his head, no, instead.
“We need to talk. Sit down, you two.” He pointed to two vacant dinette chairs with his fork. It seemed to take all the effort he had to get the two women to the table so he could eat.
Libby had gotten a soda from the refrigerator and joined her parents at the table.
“Now, about today and this sailor—” Dr. Brownlee began.
“That subject is off limits, Dad,” Libby interrupted.
“Would you just listen to me at least?” Her dad set down his fork and sighed.
Her mother’s worried gaze didn’t ease Libby’s fears. It was going to come off too harsh, so Libby adjusted the volume on her voice, and respectfully answered, “I’m listening, but I’m not a child.” She was worried it sounded petulant.
“Libby, honey,” her mother started, “No one is doubting your judgment.”
“Exactly.” Dr. Brownlee said. “With all this—this mess about the cat—well, Clark thinks we should consider some options. Most likely you’ll be safe at school, but—”
“I’m not going back to Santa Clara,” Libby interrupted.
“Excuse me?” her mother’s forehead was creased and the little lines around her eyes sprang to life with her squint. “And what the hell options are you talking about, Austen?”
Dr. Brownlee looked back down at his dinner, scowling, but said nothing.
Libby continued, “I’m taking a semester off, maybe a whole year off. I’m not registered.” She’d wanted to give them a more thorough explanation, but she was finding the right words difficult to come by.
Her father planted his forehead into his palm, with his elbow on the table. “Why for God’s sake now, Libby?”
“You think I could have known about all this—” Libby waved her arm in the direction of the backyard and the turquoise pool where Noodles had been found.
“Of course not, honey,” her mother softened. “It’s just that the timing is—well, it couldn’t be worse. And no, how could you have known?”
“I don’t want to go into it,” Libby continued. “You don’t need to hear the sordid details with everything else that’s going on around here. Let’s just say I needed a break. It’s a story for another time, perhaps.” Libby could see it was still difficult for her mother to grasp.
“This have to do with the young SEAL?” she asked timidly, with a forced smile.
“No. I made this decision before I came home. Before I met him.”
Dr. Brownlee’s sour expression was difficult for Libby to stomach. He glanced up at his wife and then stared down at the rest of his dinner, pondering the pile of cheese and red tomato sauce like it was something from a horror film. Finally he pushed aside the plate.
Libby continued, softly at first to ease them into the idea. “I withdrew from the University a week ago,” she confessed.
“I need a drink.” Her dad got up and poured himself a tumbler and stared out the kitchen window at something. Libby could see and hear the sprinklers going off in the distance.
“Damn it all,” he whispered as he adjusted his hips to lean against the countertop, swirling the ice cubes in the stubby crystal glass.
“You either get someone else to fix it or stop complaining,” her mother answered. “Austin, can we just stay on point here? To hell with the landscaping.”
That brought a smile to Dr. Brownlee’s lips. He raised his glass to her. “That’s my girl. Telling it like it is.” He looked at Libby. “Your mother is so wicked lovely when she’s focused. She could have commanded a battleship.”
Her mom sat with her arms crossed, staring at her lap, shaking her head. Immune to his considerable charm.
He finished his drink in one long gulp, put the glass in the sink, and rinsed it off. Leaning against the counter, he spoke again. “Clark thinks we should move out of the house for a while. He isn’t sure it’s safe here.”
Libby’s mom bristled, her eyes widened in horror as she stood up. “What? I’m not moving out of this house! What do you mean by ‘safe,’ Austin? Why wouldn’t it be safe?” Her hands were on her hips.
Dr. Brownlee peered across the kitchen island at her mother and displayed that affectionate smile that usually melted any female standing nearby. But it didn’t work today, Libby could see. He motioned for Carla to sit back down, which she did in a huff.
Dr. Brownlee rolled his neck and then looked at Libby. “Maybe someone is targeting me. Could be after me for something. I’m thinking it’s a whacko upset about the Clinic at Lavender House. Someone’s got hold of the donor list—something like that. Anyhow, I think Clark agrees.”
“But it was my cat,” Libby interjected. Carla put her head in her hands, elbows leaning on the table.
The restraint in her father’s voice sounded like a kettledrum. “How would anyone know that? Not like someone else lives here with us. You’re—well you were away at college,” he said. “The cat lives here.”
Libby stared at her soda. She was definitely not away at college. She was here. Right here. As a matter of fact, she was at the beach, in the water, wrapped in the arms of…
“Good lord, Austin,” her mother began, bringing Libby back. “So Clark thinks this is more serious. Something more than just the cat?” She hardened her gaze, glaring up at her husband like she was going to spring on him. “What are you not telling us?”
“Look, I think Clark is just trying to make sure we are paying attention.”
“Attention?” Both Libby and her mother responded.
Brownlee hesitated, looking at the corners of the kitchen ceiling as though searching for a Heavenly ally. “He has to say that. He has to consider the worst-case scenario. Just wants us to be careful, be prepared.”
Libby could see her mom wasn’t buying the sell job her father was trying to promote. Carla crossed her arms, and tried again, “I still get the feeling you’re hiding something from me, Austin.” Libby heard the waver of her mother’s voice, like a hand was placed around her throat.
She was right, of course. Something was seriously wrong. Her father’s attempts to make light of it only intensified the eerie feeling in the room. There must have been something he wasn’t telling her and her mother. He was obviously worried—distracted, really—beyond what he was saying. Something wasn’t adding up. She looked between her parents for answers and found none.
“Nothing,” Dr. Brownlee said with finality, “He’s just being careful.”
“But, where would we go?” her mother asked. Her voice had a brittle tinge to it.
“We have lots of choices. We could stay with Neil and Marsha,” her father said.
“I’m not going to ask my son to put us up when they’re expecting again and they’ve already got two other little ones under foot. That’s not fair to them. Besides, Libby can’t stay there too—”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll find another place,” Libby chimed in.
“I say we all stick together,” her father said. “If we can’t stay at Neil’s, we can rent a place, find a vacation rental.”
Some vacation that’ll be. Take a vacation when we’re all scared to death?
“I’m going to have a security specialist come over tomorrow. Friend of Clark’s. In the meantime, we start using the alarm system every time we leave the house. Maybe we can borrow Neil’s dog for a few days.”
Libby knew something was seriously out of whack. No one in their family liked Neil’s Pit Bull, who had a fondness for bare ankles and wasn’t entirely housebroken.
“Austin, why all this… this precaution?” Libby’s mom asked again, ignoring the dog comment.
Libby knew her mother’s radar was functioning just fine. She had come to the same conclusion as Libby.
But her dad begged off an explanation. “Listen, Carla. Better to be safe than sorry. They’ve got investigations to do. They can’t just drop everything and work
on this cat incident.” He looked over at Libby who shrugged back at him. She had cried herself dry. “Sorry, Libby, but they have rapes and murders to deal with. I think this is someone who wants to be cruel, just scare me for some reason. I know I’m the target.”
Libby knew her parents would be up until all hours of the night discussing their plans.
And she needed Cooper now more than ever. In her own house, under the protection of her mother and father, who had always made her feel safe, she was suddenly afraid. Something dark was looming on the horizon.
After she went to bed, she thought she heard the mailbox open around midnight. When she went to her bedroom window, she saw red taillights winking between the dark trees and shrubs of the street, disappearing around the turn.
There wasn’t any sign of anyone lingering around. Moonlight made the cool metal glow with an eerie blue-grey hue.
The flag was down.
She checked the flashing red alarm light in the hallway anyway before turning into bed. She felt a chill wash over her body, and wished she could talk to Cooper. He would have something reassuring to say about all of this.
She needed him for more than the hot sex she didn’t get enough of this afternoon. She needed his experience rooting out bad guys under pressure. Home no longer was the safe haven she’d been running to.
Chapter Twelve
Part of him wanted to spend the night with Libby again. He couldn’t get their lovemaking out of his mind. How her body responded to his, how he felt like part of his hard shell was cracking, softening to her touch. And he was filled with the growing need to protect her, like she belonged to him already.
But that was a stupid thought for a guy in his position. He couldn’t offer any chance of a long-term relationship. All he could do was become a wedge between a father and his daughter. And for what?
He knew relationships were detrimental to his occupation. He needed his focus. The Navy was his life now, even more so since the loss of his family. He suddenly wanted to go back to work in the worst way. He didn’t need to be reminded of what he no longer had.
But he knew Timmons wouldn’t allow it.
How would he spend the next few days without her? Even surfing, lying around on the beach, or working out at Gunny’s, weren’t appealing. Everything had shifted.
In the old days, he’d have gotten a new tattoo. The pain of the scabbing flesh would be a reminder of how mortal he was. He’d get hard watching Daisy and her huge tits, leaning over him, brushing against him, teasing him, and smiling without looking at his eyes. She had known he lusted after her long before they became intimate. Now, that was out of the question.
No, meeting Libby, being inside her, kissing her neck, her full lips, hearing her moan and feeling her shudder beneath him had ruined it for him with anyone else. Much as he tried to tell himself otherwise, he was tethered to Libby just as if he’d been hogtied physically.
He’d have to keep things in balance, though. He needed to slow things down, give himself time to think. He knew better than to go jumping into a long-term relationship, even though he realized he was powerless to stop himself. He’d never had that problem before. He’d always looked at his buddies, who’d gotten snagged by a cute little thing that came waltzing into their lives, and turned their man-caves into honeymoon suites. Was that what could happen to him?
He knew if he wasn’t careful, he was about to experience a terminal case of…of… What the fuck am I feeling?
He couldn’t deal with this any longer. He was certain his sorrow over the loss of his parents had drawn him right into the middle of Libby’s life, and that was just not fair to her. He had nothing he could offer her. His tank was on empty. And he could see in her eyes that she expected—she deserved—so much more. He decided he’d just not call her back. He should have exercised better judgment before he’d taken advantage of her. Oh yeah, he’d taken advantage of her all right. He’d been an animal. Couldn’t get enough.
And the reason he felt so bad was because, while he’d gotten what he wanted, he knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted—needed. No fuckin’ way he could do that.
Time to get numb. He decided to call his Team 3 LPO. Kyle picked up on the first ring. “Coop. How’s your love life? Fredo thinks he got stood up Friday night.”
Cooper knew Kyle’s comment was intended to be a joke, but had misfired. “Yeah? Well, you’d have been proud of me Lanny. I got ‘er done.”
“That’s mighty fine, my boy. Just what the doctor ordered. And did it help?”
“Nope. Think I’ll get shit-faced tonight. You be my DD?”
“I’ll be your mule, but you sure? Thought you gave it up. You got some years invested in being sober.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Maybe you better rethink that one, Coop. Not tryin’ to be your nursemaid…”
“Then shut the hell up, Lanny. Get off my fuckin’ case.”
“Oh, no you don’t, SO. Remember, you called me. You’re really starting to piss me off.”
“I want to get shitfaced and then fucked. Royally fucked.”
“I got you. I can’t help you do either, but I can grab a cup of coffee with you.”
“Fine.” Everything was not fine. It sucked. Big time.
“Let me get permission and I’ll call you back.”
A few minutes later Kyle affirmed, with his new baby screaming in the background, that he was free to help slide Cooper into the delirium of an alcoholic stupor, if he insisted, and would respectfully deliver him back to his motor home at the end, even if he had to carry him.
The Scupper was within walking distance of the beach. Cooper was on his third beer, Bay asleep at his feet, by the time Kyle arrived, and Coop didn’t have an ounce of regret. Behind his LPO, Fredo swaggered in, wearing a ridiculously bright Hawaiian print shirt over jeans which barely covered his flip-flopped feet.
The Mexican Hawaiian.
Coop was happy to see his buddies. Been a while since Fredo tried another one of his legendary takedowns. Maybe he’d challenge him this evening. Most of the time Fredo, who was a foot shorter, won, but Cooper was of a mood to play hard tonight.
Fredo nodded and they touched knuckles. He whistled when he saw the beer. “You look terrible, Calvin,” he said, “and you smell like dog, man.”
Coop wondered if the waitress he’d tipped to allow Bay to stay with him, as a SEAL service dog, got a whiff of him before she said yes. Bay was too old, and way too fat to be considered a service dog. Maybe she’d thought Bay was a companion dog for a mental returning vet. But Molly accepted his word.
Figures. He knew sure as hell he could pass for a mental.
Fredo was going on and on about the dog smell. This tickled him, a little. “Frodo,” he said, referring to his buddy’s nickname—one that the SEAL hated being called—“meet Bay. Bay, say hello to Frodo.”
The dog popped his head up at the sound of his name, looked up at Fredo, and then examined Kyle, before laying his head over his paws with a big sigh.
“Frodo here’s been in some movies, Bay. Be respectful and don’t lift your leg on him, okay?”
The dog looked at the Mexican SEAL, who was scowling like he’d been punched.
“You’re in a nasty mood, Coop. What happened, Daisy get your penis all infected?”
Cooper was immediately on his feet. Kyle kicked him behind the knees to make him sit. “Enough. You’re being stupid now. Both of you.” He glared between the two best friends. “Shake on it,” Kyle commanded. There would be full compliance with this direct order, but they didn’t have to like it.
Fredo said something in Spanish and submitted his paw for the grip of his friend with hands twice the size of his.
Cooper found some of his humor filtering through the fog of his psyche. “Daisy only did one guy’s penis, and it wasn’t mine.” He got the effect he was going for. Kyle winced and Fredo swore.
Bay yawned so wide it looked like his jaw was going to be unhin
ged. Coop noticed the dog’s breath smelled like rotting cabbage. His two Teammates were wrinkling their noses.
“Come on, guys. Haven’t had him groomed. He’s only been in the ocean a few times. Haven’t had time for a bath.”
“No, dog lover, you’re too damned cheap,” Fredo said.
“What’s the point? He’s gonna get dirty again.” Through the beer fog, Coop thought it was a plausible argument.
Fredo’s eyes got wide with fire. “What’s the point? You, the guy who dusts his floors with his toothbrush. Mr. don’t-get-the-sand-in-my-duty-bag-kind-of-guy? The guy who reuses baby wipes—oh, yes, I’ve found those little brown used wipes at the bottom of your medical kit.
“Hate to waste the sanitizer.”
“You’re the guy who counts the dryer sheets. Don’t tell me it isn’t about money. And now this poor dog is suffering, you asshole!” Fredo looked genuinely worked up.
Cooper shrugged and turned back to his beer. Fredo grabbed the glass from him and finished it off for him. In a lowered volume, Fredo continued, “They got cute little chiquitas that take them and bathe them, paint their nails, too. Dude, you gotta give that dog some love, man. Your pimpmobile must smell like dog hair, man.”
Cooper looked down at his empty glass and smiled. His bed smelled like Libby. He wasn’t sure he would want to wash his sheets for weeks.
“Oh, God in Heaven,” Fredo chuckled as their beers arrived. “I know that look. You been scoring for the last three days since you been back. I knew it! I told Gunny your pecker was going to fall off.”
“Not quite.”
“She lose her touch? Or is it someone new?”
“Come on, Fredo,” Kyle interrupted. Cooper was starting to blush.
“Fuck me! It is someone new. You got yourself one of those Junior College chiquitas?” Fredo’s eyes were sparkling.
“There’s more to life than—” Cooper started to protest.
“Since when?” both Kyle and Fredo said in unison.
