“What the hell, Stanton.” McCaffrey chewed her ass for that—no less than she expected or deserved. They’d spent a near perfect week working together. Falling back into old patterns, perhaps with a new awareness. “About what I said earlier,” he clarified, “never look the guy in the eye, or stop to think about the shot. The bad guy’s a target. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
TRAINING POOL
Fallon, Nevada
FROM THE OBSERVATION DECK, Mike witnessed the silent splash as Hannah entered the water. Clouds of oxygen bubbles surrounded the swimmer, then floated to the surface as she frog-kicked through them. She swam the entire length of the pool underwater.
“I’ll be damned. Calypso.”
What in the hell was she doing here this late at night?
And alone?
She surfaced at the opposite end. Covered in mannish swim trunks and the top of a tropical swimsuit, she bobbed for a moment before kicking off to skim the surface freestyle.
Mike scrambled to the scaffolding that made up the upper observation deck. Leaning against the rail, he watched and waited in silence.
The building that housed their Olympic-size pool had been locked down for hours. Every SEAL knew better than to swim without a buddy. She hadn’t even bothered to turn on any other lights. She had a thing about the dark these days.
The sea nymph finished her laps. She crawled out of the pool and picked up her towel.
“I didn’t even know you could swim.” His voice easily carried to her.
She looked up in his direction. He moved from the shadows. The gangway on his left took him to the pool area and he followed the stairs down.
“How long have you been here?” she asked, continuing to pat herself dry.
He strode toward her. “Long enough.”
“I suppose you’re going to lecture me for swimming without a buddy.”
“I thought you’d forgotten how. I see now that you’ve just forgotten the rules.”
She tossed her towel to the bleachers. “I know how to swim, McCaffrey. Every Navy pilot has to be a First Class qualified swimmer.”
The test wasn’t as tough as the Navy SEAL swim test, but it wasn’t a cakewalk, either, he’d give her that. Still… “That’s no excuse for swimming alone.”
“I know you’re right. That doesn’t mean I like it,” she admitted, sitting down on the edge and dipping her feet into the pool.
He joined her there, still in his own swimwear. “You don’t have to like it. You just have to obey it. It’s the first rule of common sense, and one every BUD/S learns the first day of training.”
She stared at her toes as she kicked her legs back and forth. “The first time was the worst,” she said.
He hadn’t quite figured out the conversation, but it sounded like she needed someone to listen to her, so he listened.
“I was upside down in the dunker when I had some sort of weird flashback.” She stopped watching her toes and turned to him. “I think my dad drowned. My dad was a Navy SEAL and he drowned. Don’t you find it ironic?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“What makes you think he drowned?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Something I overheard at the funeral. I was mad at the world, and mad at him because no one remembered it was my birthday. I took Sam and crawled under a table in the corner to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to myself. I remember a conversation between two men, one was very upset. He described a helicopter going down over water—the Mekong Delta. That’s how I know it wasn’t a training accident.
“My father wasn’t the only man who died that day. His whole squad wound up dead. Mike,” she hesitated, “I hit the water in that dunker and heard the pilot’s voice retelling that tale as clearly as if it were yesterday. I didn’t put it all together until a few days ago, but I think that pilot, the man talking, was Captain Loring.”
Mike took her hand in his. Her fingers felt chilled, and he rubbed warmth into them. “Come here,” he said, and pulled her into his arms.
She buried her face in his shoulder, and he held her tight. “Nobody wants me to do this,” she said. “Nobody believes I can do this. Nobody understands why I have to. It’s as if I have to go get him. Every pickup has to be perfect. If I do my job, nobody dies. Please, don’t die, Mike.”
“I can’t make you any promises about tomorrow, but I have no intention of dying today,” he said as he kissed away her tears. “Do you trust me?”
CHAPTER TEN
ACTIVITY FOR THE DAY. 0430 FRIDAY. ALTERNATE 10 MILE HIKE WITH PACK AND MONSTER MASH. ALL PERSONNEL. UNIFORM: BATTLE DRESS UNIFORM/FULL PACK. REQ SOPA ADMIN PASS TO HCS-9 ANDST-11.
AS SOON AS HIS FEET HIT the sand, Mike released the carabiner attached to his safety line. In one swift move he was free of the hovering Seahawk.
His “first into danger, last out” philosophy had earned him the respect of his entire team. They weren’t exactly storming Tangos here in the Nevada desert, but that didn’t mean he expected anything less than one hundred percent from his team.
He scrambled for the dune in the distance as if they were entering enemy territory and not running this scenario for the tenth time that morning. Most folks weren’t even out of bed yet. “Hoo-yah!”
The downdraft from the rotor blades kicked up a cloud of dust as the helicopter hovered long enough to drop his four-man fire team. He covered his mouth and nose with a bandanna to keep from breathing in the sand.
If possible, it was going to be even hotter today than yesterday. He cleared the dune in an adrenaline-fueled rush and slid down the other side, heart racing. Itch, Ajax and Kip Nouri were right behind him. Weapon at the ready, Mike pulled down the bandanna and rolled to his belly. Taking a defensive posture, he fired off rounds of cover—live rounds—as his men joined in the firefight against an invisible foe.
A training op wasn’t all that different from a real world op. Both were physically and mentally demanding. He thrived on the challenge. Lived on the edge. He hoped he’d die in his bed at the ripe old age of ninety-eight like his paternal grandfather, but if it was his time to go he wouldn’t regret it. For one thing he wouldn’t be leaving a wife and kids behind to grieve, the way Hannah still grieved for her father.
She needed closure.
He wished he could offer it.
“Cease fire,” he ordered some time later, when the last member of his team had reached the dune. “Chief,” he called to Itch. “Get on the horn. I think we can call it a day.”
Itch radioed the Seahawks. “Thanks for the lift, Wings. We’re gonna hoof it from here. Warriors need the exercise. Over and out.”
“Copy BravoEleven,” Calypso said. “NightHawk, Romeo five five, over and out.”
“Gotta love a woman who knows how to handle a stick.” The ever-pragmatic Itch said as the helicopters flew out of sight.
DOUGLAS HOUSE BACHELOR OFFICERS’
QUARTERS
Fallon, Nevada
“DOOR’S OPEN.” Hannah fanned herself in front of the open freezer in an attempt to stay cool. She couldn’t imagine what McCaffrey’s fire team was going through right now in this hundred-degree heat.
“AC out again?” Spence asked as he carried in bags from the Navy Exchange. “Whole building?”
“Afraid so.”
“Something sweet and something salty.” He stopped on the other side of the kitchen bar. Setting the bags on the counter, he pulled up a stool. “Change is in the bag.”
Comfort food.
“Thanks.” She opened the bag of chips and left them on the counter. Ben & Jerry’s went in the freezer though she was tempted to smear it all over her body.
She blamed her cravings on the heat. And cramps. And all that endurance exercise. She must be burning at least an extra five hundred calories a day. Not to mention those she burned at night.
Except last night after she and McCaffrey had made love, and there was no more denying on her part that that’s what it was,
she’d realized she had to end it.
Spence grabbed a handful of chips and studied her as he munched. “You’re sleeping with him,” he said.
“Not anymore,” she said, without denying what had been.
“So what happened last night to end it?”
“Other than he bound my hands and feet, threw me into the pool, then had his way with me? Nothing.” She reached into the bag of potato chips
“Drown-proofing, right? Crazy guys tie each other up, bounce off the bottom of the pool and call themselves Navy SEALs…drown-proofing.”
She stuffed her mouth and shrugged. Purposely leaving the situation open to his interpretation. Somewhere between drown-proofing and bondage came the most sensual experience of her life. Do you trust me?
“Feel like heading over to the Wing Nut for happy hour and a little karaoke?” Spence asked.
“It’s always happy hour at the Wing Nut. Normally, I’d say no, but right now I’d agree to anything to get out of this heat. Even listening to some really bad music.”
“It’s not so bad. Maybe I’ll even get you up on stage.”
“Not on your life.”
“We’ll see. Webb and Boomer are coming. Let me grab a cold shower and I’ll meet you back here in a half hour.”
“Sounds good.”
Spence picked up his bags and turned to leave. “Almost forgot—” he reached into one and pulled out a tiny white T-shirt “—I saw this and thought of you.” He held up a shirt with the Oreo Cookie and Got Milk logos.
“How very commercial of you. And sweet. Thank you.”
“If you don’t think it fits, you can give it to Fallon,” he teased, leaving it on the counter. Hannah made a quick call home before she stepped into the shower.
THE WING NUT
Fallon, Nevada
KARAOKE NIGHT at the Wing Nut brought the Naval Aviators out in force. Hannah took center stage after some serious coaxing from her co-pilot.
While Spence picked out sheet music for their duet, she twisted her watch again, not bothering to check the face since it would only be five minutes from the last time she’d looked.
“Testing, one, two.” She cringed at the sound of her own voice.
Smiling in his easy manner, Spence made some final adjustments. “Eye on the screen. Wait for the color to change,” he instructed her. After handing her a mike, he took the other for himself. “Don’t worry. I’ll cue you.”
How had she ever let him talk her into this?
She managed a few deep breaths before the music started. Then stumbled over her first line when McCaffrey walked in the door. Mistaking her hesitation, Spence cued the music back to the beginning.
Hannah fixed her eyes on Mac. He stopped just inside the entrance. Arms crossed, he stared back at her while his men filed in around him.
After the initial eye contact, he sauntered over to a table in the back, looking none the worse for his ten-mile hike out of the desert. Except for the sunburn.
Hannah tried to concentrate on the words that flashed on the screen. Spence’s husky tenor had her singing along, which earned her appreciative whistles from the F-14 Tomcat pilots gathered up front.
But the words to “Cruisin’” were for Mac.
Mike leaned forward in his seat. He didn’t like seeing Hannah standing up there with Spencer Holden. Mike had always thought the kid just wanted to do his duty. That is until Mike saw Holden hamming it up on stage with Hannah. Then it seemed as if the former teen idol wanted to do Hannah. And if those fly boys to his right didn’t shut the hell up, they were going to be eating their teeth.
Last night he’d tied her ankles and wrists, binding her to him. Mind, body and soul.
Her heart still played hard to get.
And his was playing chicken.
The song ended. Mike didn’t join in the applause. He kept his gaze locked with Hannah’s as if he could pull her to him by sheer force of will.
It worked. She headed straight for him. Hannah was hot tonight, and it had nothing to do with the desert heat, and everything to do with the way she looked at him.
“A little aloe vera will take the sting out.” She settled in at his table and took a sip of his beer.
“I’ve been stung worse. Care to explain the note you left me on your kitchen counter?”
“Can we take this outside?” she asked, sliding his beer toward him.
He got up without another word. Taking his beer, he steered her toward the nearest emergency exit, which had been propped open, working the AC over time. No alarms sounded when they left the bar, except for those going off in his head.
He’d known something was wrong last night when he’d brought her back to her room and she’d said good-night at the door. But he’d accepted sleeping alone as part of their bargain.
Cool professionals by day. Feverish lovers by night.
It made their lights-out sessions all the more exciting.
But last night he’d gone too far. He’d scared her. Not with the things he’d done, but with the things he’d made her feel. Hannah didn’t like giving up control. He suspected this was her way of trying to get it back.
Gravel crunched beneath their boots as they headed to his Jeep, parked under a broken streetlight. Without saying a word, she put her purse on his hood and dug through it. She offered him some Chap Stick for his sun-blistered lips.
He shook his head and took a swig of beer instead. Planting his backside against the Jeep, he rested a booted foot on the bumper. “So you don’t want to see me tonight, or ever again?” he said in reference to her note.
“That’s not what I wrote.”
“You have the floor.” He toasted her with the beer.
“It’s that time of the month. I tried to explain—”
“That you didn’t want sex tonight. And since we’re leaving here Sunday I no longer serve a useful purpose.”
“To put it bluntly, yes. There’s the picnic tomorrow with both our commands. Then we’re back in Coronado.”
“And you don’t want to be seen at the picnic or in Coronado together because…” He gave her an opening, but she didn’t fill in the blank, so he did. “For a woman it’s a bad career move to be seen as open to dating a fellow officer? I’m really just guessing here, help me out.”
“Close enough.”
“FYI, Han, I haven’t been coming around for the sex. It’s been good, but not great—”
“Not great! You can say that after last night?”
In his mind’s eye, shadow and light shimmered across the surface of the pool, bedeviling him with the memory of her wet and willing surrender.
“Great would be if we weren’t hiding behind doors and in the dark. Last night was amazing, and I think that scared you. In case you haven’t noticed, for some time now I haven’t been running anywhere but toward you.”
He could see the indecision in her eyes, in the way she bit down on her bottom lip. “Have you ever asked yourself why we only get together in Nevada, Mike? It’s our fantasy world. It’s not the real world of a Navy SEAL or a SpecWar pilot. It’s not the civilian world in which I live or the Navy world in which you move. When we go home, things are different.”
“We’ll always have Fallon,” he paraphrased the line from Casablanca. “Is that it? Then Fallon it is, get in,” he said, dumping the rest of his beer to the dirt and throwing the bottle in back.
“What’d you have in mind?” She climbed in.
“Midnight picnic in the desert.” He spun his tires as he left the parking lot. He was a man of action. And he’d already decided where all this was leading. He’d known it a year ago. Why fight it. “I’d like to keep driving straight through to Reno,” he said when they hit the highway.
“And do what?”
“The grown-up thing. Get married. Whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m going to stick.” He shifted his gaze from the road to her. “You’re laughing.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nob
ody would miss us until Monday.”
“Are you suggesting we go AWOL to get married?”
“I’m suggesting we cut through all the crap and find a way to make it work. You, me and the Navy.”
GRIME’S POINT
Fallon, Nevada
DINNER WAS A BUCKET of KFC. He’d driven out to Grime’s Point, a prime stargazing or strategizing spot, depending on the intentions of the parties involved.
With a four-wheel drive they could get to a vantage point on the back side of the hills, away from the glare of the Naval base lights. They sat on the hood and leaned back against the windshield, gazing up at an inky sky counting stars. “Cold?” he asked, now that the sun had gone down.
“Not really,” Hannah answered.
He took off his jacket anyway and draped it around her shoulders.
“That was rather chivalrous of you.”
“Well, I did take the last drumstick, and I know dark meat is your favorite,” he said, holding it up.
She picked at the white meat of the breast in her hand. “This is the only place on earth I can breathe. Endless desert. Endless sky. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“Why do you think I brought you here?”
In years past, they’d come here and shared a six-pack, then spent the night under the stars as friends. But a blanket of stars wasn’t going to change her mind.
“I know there’s something you’re holding back, Han. I thought maybe we could talk about what’s on your mind.”
Most of the time it was Fallon on her mind. Or McCaffrey. Or Fallon and McCaffrey. “Yeah, there is,” she admitted.
She put the half-eaten chicken breast back in the bucket and wiped her fingers on a moist towelette. Settling back against the windshield, she picked up her first long-neck of the night.
“Care to elaborate?” he asked.
“Don’t you ever get stressed about anything?”
“When nobody’s shooting at me, I figure I don’t have too much to worry about.”
The Seal’s Baby Page 11
