Kind of like his nagging CO.
“Do you know how many strings I pulled to get this appointment for you? Do you? No one wants to take you, Owen. You’re a goddamn ogre.”
“And I’ll grind your bones to make my bread.” The Lieutenant smirked before slowly sobering. Sean was right. This had been his last bid to get some kind of help, and he’d completely skivved it off because his dick had gotten involved. He knew he had fucked up.
But was it his fault Genevieve Thomas was so fucking gorgeous?
“You know this means you can never come back.” Sean’s tone was somber as he stared out over the backyard, to where a collection of brats were smoking on the grill. “Not if you can’t get over this stuff, Owen.”
The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed as everything seemed to press in on him. He remembered how dark the night had been when he’d gone into that final mission – remembered how they’d laughed and joked as they’d zeroed in on their target, never knowing the gravity of the ambush that awaited them.
He remembered the screaming…the shooting. The dying.
It was going to take a hell of a lot more than a single shrink to get all of that out of his head.
“I didn’t know there was ever an agreement that I was going back.” He finally replied firmly. “I said I was done, Sean, and I meant it.”
“Bullshit.” His CO turned to him to fix him with his infuriated brown gaze. “You mean I’m just supposed to accept that my top man is broken? Unfixable? Don’t give up on yourself, Owen. The SEAL I knew wouldn’t let something like this get in the way of him serving his country.”
“Don’t, Sean.” Owen’s voice took on a warning edge as his fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle he held. “Not now.”
“Then when? You tell me that.”
The two men glared at each other for a long moment. The tension between them was palpable – only broken by the low buzzing of Owen’s cellphone against the surface of the table between them. The lieutenant scowled, reaching down to answer it, his eyes still locked on his CO.
“What?”
“…Mr. Sinclair?”
He froze in place before glancing down at the name on the caller ID. Thomas, Genevieve.
The doctor was on the phone.
When he’d left her office, he’d never intended to see her again. How could he? He’d made fools of both of them – no one knew that better than him. So then, why had she called him? “Doctor Thomas.” He returned curtly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Though his tone was sarcastic, there was no way he could deny that it was, indeed, a pleasure. The moment he’d registered the woman’s smooth, low tones, his body had begun to react powerfully. “Mr. Sinclair, I called about scheduling our next appointment.”
At that juncture, Owen turned his gaze from Sean and to the phone incredulously. Their next appointment? As far as he was concerned, the first appointment had been a massive failure. Why would they have a second one? “Dr. Thomas, I wasn’t aware that-”
“Mr. Sinclair, I attribute the…awkwardness of our first appointment to my own shortcomings. I believe it would be extremely instrumental to your treatment for us to continue seeing one another.”
Owen tried to wrap his head around what she was saying. She wanted them to sit in that tiny room again, attempting to keep their hands off one another for another ninety minutes? That had been sheer hell. A hell he certainly didn’t want to return to. Not if he couldn’t have her the way he wanted.
“Doctor Thomas.” If she was going to go with inane titles, two could play that game. “I’m not coming back into your office. Let’s not kid ourselves.”
“I’m not asking you into the office.” Genevieve’s low voice returned crisply. “We’ll have our next session on base at McKineley, at the firing range.” Owen’s eyes widened. Was she out of her ever-loving mind? Civilians weren’t allowed onto open ranges on military bases – especially not those where snipers trained. It was dangerous – not to mention there would hardly be any time for them to “talk” with a profusion of bullets flying around.
“Genevieve, there’s no way they let you on that range. It’s too dangerous.”
“Supposing they do, how’s next Thursday at ten AM for you?” He choked for a moment, words deserting him. How could she be so damned confident? He doubted a woman in her position had ever even seen a live round fired. When he didn’t answer immediately, Genevieve continued. “Lovely. I’ll see you then.”
And just like that, the line went dead. For a moment, Owen only stared at the screen before him. Unable to comprehend what had just happened.
“Who was that?” Sean was finishing his beer as Eddie hunkered down next to him in the shade, his beloved squeaky by his side. It took Owen a few minutes to answer as he himself was having issues coming to terms with what had just occurred.
“Dr. Thomas.”
Sean straightened, his own eyes widening slightly. “You didn’t scare her off?”
“Apparently not.” Owen gazed at his screen as if the device had betrayed him. “I have another appointment with her next Thursday…at the firing range. On base.”
“Fuck me.” Sean lay back in his chair with a smirk. “How the hell did she manage that? I didn’t think civilians were allowed on base.”
“No clue.” Owen scowled. Reaching down errantly to scratch behind Eddie’s ears, he contemplated what this new appointment meant for him. He would have to behave. He’d thought he’d never have to deal with the temptation that was Genevieve Thomas again – but he’d been wrong.
“You must have a lucky streak a mile long, Sinclair. I swear, this woman must have known how badly I was going to kick your ass for disappointing me.”
Owen winced, touching his still sore jaw. There had been more planned? “Wasn’t the one punch enough?”
Sean grinned almost manically. “With you, Owen? Never enough.”
Chapter Four: Smoking Gun
Genevieve was running on three cups of black tea – triple her usual. She’d had difficulty sleeping the night before and was not about to take any chances when it came to the guns she’d be handling. She’d arrived at the range about an hour before her appointment with Owen for a bit of a refresher. It had, after all, been ages since she’d handled a gun.
Her father had taught her how before he’d passed, and since he’d gone, Genny had tried to make a point to get to a shooting range once a month so that she didn’t lose the skills he’d imparted on her. However, with the way she liked to absorb herself in her work, she had only just realized that it had probably been about half a year since the last time she’d held a gun in her hands. Luckily enough, she’d managed to get in contact with Captain Phillip Ryce, one of her father’s oldest and dearest friends, to give her a bit of a refresher.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, Genny.” The tall, thin man tipped his hat to her, his green eyes warm. Even at the ripe age of sixty five, the captain refused to retire, more than content to continue his command on the base and ensure that the next generation of soldiers was well trained.
“Sorry Phillip.” She offered up a nervous smile, standing on her toes to peck his cheek. “I’ve been a bit busy with work lately. I meant to make my way over to say hi.”
She gazed over the expansive length of the shooting range, where soldiers were busy assembling and dissembling guns, as well as lining up in front of different ranged targets to practice. The sound of shots being fired punctuated the air every so often, but to Genny, who’d often visited ranges outside the base with her patients, the din was nothing unfamiliar.
“Of course. Staying busy I’m sure…though I have heard that you’re working with Lieutenant Sinclair.”
Genevieve raised her gaze from the pistol she was loading in surprise. There was no way the man could possibly have found out about her dealings with Sinclair unless one of his superior officers had informed him. She certainly didn’t have leave to tell anyone. “You’re talented, Genny. Real tal
ented. I’ve seen you help some men and women who were in really bad shape.” The captain unloaded his own gun, taking it apart piece by piece to set on the table between them. “But trust me when I tell you: Lieutenant Sinclair, he’s no joke.”
Genny arched a brow as the captain continued, more than a little interested in what he had to say. Though she had gathered a few things about Owen during their somewhat rocky first session, she was eager to hear what other people might perceive about him. Any shred of information she could gather would be helpful. “Well…I know he’s a highly decorated soldier. Well-trained, precise-”
“Lethal.” The captain cut in solemnly, his eyes narrowing in seriousness. “One of the most dangerous men you’ll ever meet. Phenomenal soldier. Extremely well disciplined. He thrived during his training. Said it provided him with some much needed direction – and he served his country faultlessly. But…that last mission in Fallujah…it tore him up. He’s…scared of himself. Of what he had to do.” Phillip frowned deeply, sliding the stock into place as he reassembled his gun. His expression was thoughtful as he inspected the weapon. “S’not my place to talk to you about any of that. He should do it himself…but I want you to be careful, Genny. Man like that…if he goes wrong it could be a very dangerous situation indeed.”
A chill worked its way down the young woman’s spine. The captain spoke as if he had seen Owen lose it firsthand. His mere tone was enough to reflect how…disturbing the event must have been. “He hasn’t…he hasn’t hurt anyone?” She inquired softly, in slight disbelief.
Phillip’s lips drew together into a tight line. “No one he wasn’t ordered to. But no one wants to be on the wrong side of Sinclair, Genny. No one.” With a sigh, he took the gun she was holding from her to inspect it. As his mouth curved into a small smile beneath his thick moustache, the somber attitude that had crept in around them was suddenly banished. “Pretty good for not having been in for a while.”
Genny allowed herself an incremental smile. “We’ll see. I haven’t fired off a shot yet.”
For the next half an hour, she was able to forget what the captain had told her. She focused, instead, on hitting the target laid out a hundred feet in front of her. When she’d been small, her father had held her steady, showing her the correct way to aim so she could avoid the recoil of the gun and hit the target perfectly every time. Even when depression had consumed him in the later years of his life, he’d always found time to take her to the range and help her hone her skills.
The young woman wasn’t perfect, but after years of shooting, she could hit her mark pretty accurately at up to three hundred yards – not shabby for a psychiatrist.
Genny was taking a look at her most recent shots with no small amount of pride when a low, surprised baritone startled her from her analysis. “I don’t believe it.”
Lowering her gun, she turned to see Lieutenant Sinclair striding across the range towards her, flanked on either side by two soldiers. The man’s long, powerful form took her breath away, wrapped in khakis and a military green shirt that very pointedly showed off the definition of muscle in his upper half. Despite the fact that he had technically retired from his position, the two younger men accompanying him scurried after him like he was their commanding officer, and when he dismissed them, they left him without question. “How the hell did you get onto the base?” Far from angry, the man’s expression appeared amused as he gazed down at her, and, in that instant, Genevieve had to swallow the heat of desire that rose in her throat.
Though she thought she had steeled herself against seeing Owen again, those green eyes of his were no less entrancing, the easy strength he exuded no less arousing. She’d always been comfortable around soldiers and military men, but Lieutenant Sinclair made her decidedly uncomfortable.
She forced herself to swallow the arousal that sizzled through her veins and, instead, shot the man a cordial smile. “Friends in high places, Mr. Sinclair.”
He arched a brow at the title. “When did that start? I thought we were on a first name basis.”
Anyone else who had kissed her the way she did would certainly be addressed by their first name. But Owen was her patient. There could be no more kissing. So it would be slightly more dangerous where he was involved. Luckily enough, Captain Ryce was there to save her from embarrassment.
“Lieutenant Sinclair.” Owen turned to eye the man immediately bringing his feet together and raising his hand in a salute – despite the fact that he himself claimed he was no longer party to such formalities.
“Captain Ryce.” The older man smirked at the former SEAL’s reaction, returning his salute and extending his hand for Owen to shake.
“Nice to see you again, son. It’s been a while. Heard you were going to have the pleasure of going up against Genny here and figured I’d help her refresh.”
“You know Doctor Thomas?” The way the man seemed to be absolutely incredulous that she knew anyone on base was only slightly insulting. Genevieve had to let it pass.
“Know her. Knew her father. Good man, good family. So you’d better behave yourself, and the good doctor, Lieutenant.” With that, he placed an automatic pistol in Owen’s hand with a small smile. “I’ve heard how you’ve treated those who came before her.”
Owen had the dignity to flush slightly in indignation at the accusation – but he didn’t deny it. No, he wasn’t the kind of man that would lie to a superior officer. Instead, he merely nodded, taking the weapon the captain offered him. Genevieve’s eyes widened as he shouldered the gun like it was an extension of himself momentarily before glancing at it. Without a word – or any impetus, he began to disassemble it, much like the captain before him.
But Owen was lightning fast – his motions more dexterous than any man she’d ever seen. He had the gun down to its rudimentary parts in twenty seconds, and ten after that, the entire weapon was lying disassembled on the table between them. Then, methodically, he put the whole thing back together. His fingers were a blur, despite the calm look of concentration he wore. When the weapon was once again whole in his hands, he took brief aim with it, checking the sight picture. If he’d been on the battle field, he could have fired a bevy of shots in that moment. His stance was unwavering, his back and shoulders ramrod straight.
No matter how much Owen attested that he’d left the SEAL in him behind, it was obvious that things weren’t that simple. He was still a soldier – to the very core. Anyone who gazed upon him could tell. So, why had he tried to bury that part of himself? What gut reaction had let him be consumed by the guilt he’d piled atop his soul?
“You’re fast.” She managed, faintly, as he lowered his weapon. The man shrugged, eying the gun she held in her hands as the captain winked at her.
“You any good with that thing?”
His words made her laugh softly. “My father taught me. I’d better be.”
“Always underestimate a woman, don’t they, Genny?” The captain patted her on the back lightly before striding away from them – leaving her and Owen alone in their little corner of the range.
It was ten times more public than the office had been – with soldiers moving all around them. But still, it somehow felt a little too intimate for Genevieve. She would have to push past that, she knew, and so she took to loading her gun carefully, round by round. “So you and the captain have met before.” Her words were off-handed, casual, but she watched the man beside her closely.
“He was my CO for a few missions. He’s a good man – an efficient commander.”
“My father thought the same.” She adjusted the gloves she wore to help her absorb the kickback of her weapon, trying to ignore the way the lieutenant’s eyes lingered on the swell of her chest. She had covered with a black top that protected her modesty all the way to her throat, but somehow, the man still made her feel exposed. “They were close friends, before he died.” She stepped up to the line that designated a hundred foot shooting range, trying to ignore the din of other men practicing around her. Harder
to ignore was the weight of Owen’s gaze as he watched her form intently.
Genny took a deep breath, lining up her shots, before she fired all six rounds from the pistol. Of their number, four found their way inside the inner most target, and she grinned as she exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Her father would have been proud.
When she turned to Owen again, she found him frowning, staring at the target in the distance. “You said your father taught you how to shoot?”
The young woman nodded slowly. “Who was he?”
Genevieve’s lips curved upwards into a smile as she remembered her father at his best. As the man who had made it to all of his daughter’s plays and school functions – who had loved her despite the disease that had been ravaging him. She had never really known the military man that he was, only that what he’d seen in Vietnam had changed him – and all she’d ever wanted to do was help him get better.
“Captain Jermaine Thomas.” She set her gun gently down on the table, searching for her next set of rounds. A low, sharp sound or surprise escaped Owen beside her. When she looked up at him, she found him staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Army Rangers.”
“Christ.” The word slipped from Owen’s lips incredulously. “Purple heart Captain Thomas? The man who won two medals for bravery? Who was commended by every CO he ever served under?”
Her patients didn’t usually ask about her family, and so they never knew about her father, or her grandfather before him. There was a long history of military men in her household, and during her training, she’d made sure to take advantage of her connections. It was through such perseverance that she’d gotten to know officers like Captain Ryce, as well as those who allowed her the liberty to be able to utilize the base shooting range. But she didn’t throw around her father’s name callously. In fact, she rarely mentioned it at all – choosing, instead, to let her track record of helping Vets speak for itself. “Yes.” She exhaled a fond sigh. “That’s him.”
Saving the Seal: A BWWM Navy Seal Interracial Romance Page 5
