Code Name: Ghost

by Natasza Waters

  Mace Callahan and his squad entered the galley. He groaned as he saw the line stretched halfway to the door. Just getting lunch was going to take three-quarters of it. He heard the six other guys from his squad echo his groan at seeing the line.

  Civilian and military personnel merged into one smooth operating naval base located on Coronado Island, a short swim from San Diego. He knew. He’d done it enough times after pissing the Commander off. Scanning the hall, Mace saw the Basic Underwater Demolition training recruits known as BUD/S, who hoped to become SEALs like them, standing in the line.

  They’d spend six months in Coronado going through their phased training. These guys were only on phase one, and some of them looked like hell, and they hadn’t even gone through Hell Week yet.

  BUD/S training would separate them from all the other Special Operation forces. The hard-assed thirty percent or less that made it through would prove to themselves they were a league above everyone else. Mace remembered those times well enough. Ten years had passed since then, and those training days were a cakewalk compared to real life.

  “Let’s grab some chairs and wait till it thins out,” Pat, “Zodiac” Cobbs, Alpha squad’s lieutenant suggested, aiming for a table near the lineup.

  “Wow, would you look at that,” Mace said, barely sitting his ass in the chair, watching a woman enter the galley. “Where the hell did she come from?”

  “Cool your jets, Mace,” his lieutenant warned.

  He watched, as did the rest of the guys. The woman had a hairpin curve from hip to breast. Obviously civilian, she wore a pair of stone-washed jeans and a blue and white striped jersey clung to her endowments nicely. A pair of high-heeled navy blue boots clicked on the tile floor as she crossed it. He loved dark brunettes, especially with waves of delicious hair, and eyes as deep as outer space, like hers. Mace tracked her as she wove her way to join the line, past the ant trails of men and women shuffling by with their steaming trays of lunch.

  Tony “Tinman” Bale, their heavy weapons operator, craned his neck to watch as well. “Maybe she’s just passing through,” he said, jerking his blonde brows. “That’s the best kind, Mace.”

  Mace’s sniper-trained eyes zeroed in on her. Ignoring the action around her, she concentrated on her phone. “Bet I can get a date,” he challenged, squaring off his shoulders and eyeing Tony and Nathan Young, their newest member. All of them were bachelors, and so was Clay “Ditz” Sacks, their communications man, but he was engaged—technically, he didn’t count.

  “Twenty bucks says you’ll strike out, Frog,” Clay challenged, making the bet without pause.

  “Yeah, I’m in, too. One look at you and she’s gonna run screaming in the other direction,” Tony added, then focused on the Commander as he approached. “Commander, we debriefing today?”

  Mace shoved his chair over to make room. Commander Austen was everyone’s boss, but he still put his life on the line, leading their missions. No one really understood why. Most commanders of a SEAL team directed from outside the hot zone. Lieutenant Cobbs didn’t mind having him onboard. Both the Commander and Cobbs had been special warfare ops for twenty years. The Captain of the Port, Josh Redding, joined them as they settled their trays on the table.

  “Hey, boys," Captain Redding greeted, nodding his head of white hair. “Good to see you all made it home.”

  Their underwater demolitions expert, Master Chief Petty Officer Mason Briggs, who they called “Fox,” stopped his conversation with Nathan. They’d named Nathan “Tadpole” just to irritate the shit out of the cocky young bastard, but everyone liked him and he made a great addition to the team.

  “Ahoy, Captain," Fox greeted.

  "How’s the Port?” Tony asked.

  “Same as always. Bitchy as a woman and twice as beautiful.”

  “Speaking of beautiful women—we just saw a knockout walk in. Over there.” Mace pointed over his shoulder.

  Redding followed his stare. He grinned and nodded at the Commander. “Yup, she is that, Mace.”

  “Mace here figures he can get a date with her,” Tony said, his streamlined shoulders lifting with a laugh.

  “Do you know her? What’s her name, Captain?” Mace asked.

  “Kayla Banks, but call her ma’am, she’s earned it,” Redding said, and darted a glance at the Commander.

  Mace scanned the team. “You know who she reminds me of?” The other guys shrugged. “Snow White, but a sexy Snow White,” he drawled, knuckling the table to push his six-foot frame up. “I think I’m going to let her know I’m her Prince Charming. Watch the master in action, boys.”

  “Stand down, Mace,” the Commander growled when he was only halfway out of his seat.

  The Commander had never stopped him from making a move on a woman, and he sure as hell wasn’t one to talk. Women of all ages gave the Commander their phone numbers. He had a drawer full of them.

  A scar running across the Commander’s cheekbone—a reminder of youth and a hard lesson learned— didn’t mar the man’s features. Women loved him, probably more because of the old wound that gave him a dangerous as hell look. It didn’t deter most girls from wanting to wrap their hands around his square jaw or get lost in his crystalline blue eyes. The Commander didn’t mind, either. He always landed the pick of the litter, yet none of them had been good enough to keep him home.

  “Sit,” the Commander ordered, and there was no doubt it was an order.

  “Ah, okay.” Mace glanced a little dejectedly in her direction, “but…”

  “Leave her alone, Mace,” the Commander growled, but there was no explanation to follow.

  “Yes sir.” He cracked a piss-off look at both Clay and Tony as they sat back with crossed arms and glib expressions sliding across their faces.

  “Ah, the sweet smell of a twenty,” Clay said, with a look of victory. “For some reason, you got some self-inflated idea every woman is gonna fall at your feet, Mace.”

  “Women do fall at my feet, asshole, and that twenty isn’t yours. I have to get the chance to talk with her first, then we’ll see who’s payin’ who,” he shot back. “Besides, women love snipers, it sounds like a dangerous gig to them.”

  Caleb “Stitch” Stone, the squad’s corpsman, craned his head. “Nah, I’m in, too. By the looks of her, I’d be giving you CPR. You don’t have a hope in hell, Sniper.”

  “Listen to Base Command much?” Captain Redding asked, leaning over his tray to be heard above the loud hum of conversation in the hall.

  “Yeah, why…oh, shit, that’s not the new voice we’ve been hearing since we got back, is it? She’s not supposed to look like she sounds,” Mace said, easily remembering the woman’s voice wrapping around him like silk when they’d called Base Command to check out alongside the dock this morning.

  “That’s enough,” The Commander interjected. “We’ll debrief in my office in thirty minutes. And Mace, if you’re going to keep your mouth open, you might as well put some food in it.”

  The rest of the guys chuckled and fingered their palms looking for the twenty they weren’t gonna get.

  A group of Marine Recon students shuffled into the galley. The Marines’ Special Reconnaissance training brought men who wanted to broaden their experience and test their metal to Coronado. Some were straight from boot camp and some had earned their stripes in the dust already.

  “Look at those guys. They look lean, mean and about as bad as we did in BUD/S,” Clay said, eyeing the men as they fell in line for the serving counter behind Kayla. Clay grinned at him. “Maybe one of them will get lucky, and then you’re outta luck, Mace.”

  The Commander scanned the Marines, but returned to his conversation with Captain Redding without concern.

  Lieutenant Cobbs scoured the group as well, and then a gust of air escaped his lungs. “Jesus, I don’t believe it, did you see that?”

  Now they had the Commander and the Captain’s attention, and they both saw the guy behind Kayla brush his hand across her ass. The Commander te
nsed, the look in his eyes becoming predatory.

  “She probably doesn’t know she could court martial his ass. I’m going up there,” Mace said, rising to his feet. “Maybe they’d like to eat a little dirt for lunch.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Mace,” Redding said, “Watch.”

  Kayla slowly turned, but didn’t look at them, still concentrating on her cell phone. She said something, and the two closest men took a step back.

  “Sorry ma’am,” floated across to their table.

  “What the hell did she say?” Tony asked the Commander.

  They all knew he could read lips. It came in handy running silent ops out in the field.

  The Commander’s mouth quirked as he shook his head. “Brave little thing, isn’t she?”

  “What did she say, Ghost?” the Captain asked, using his old team name.

  None of them used that name, he was “Commander” to them, but the Captain had been his lieutenant once upon a time, and they’d had plenty of missions together over the years.

  “She said, ‘Do it again and you’ll wake up with a grenade between your thighs, sans a pin.’” The Commander barked with laughter. All eyes turned on him. He scanned his men swiftly, cleared his throat then put his attention on his meal.

  “We can find another chair,” Tony suggested. “Invite her over here, Captain.”

  “Sorry, fellows, she’s all business and she keeps to herself. Besides I don’t think you boys could handle her.”

  “I’d have no problem learning something from her,” Mace said, and glanced over his shoulder, but when he turned around the Commander was glaring at him. He knew that look, and it meant stop now or else. There was a distinct, harsh line when it came to the Commander. For some reason he’d just crossed it. Immediately, he dropped his gaze to the table.

  * * * *

  After lunch, the team convened in Captain Redding and the Commander’s office for the mission debrief. Tinman and Fox grabbed the empty chairs first, Mace and the rest of the team found a wall to lean against.

  “Any questions?” the Commander asked, looking at them once he’d finished.

  Mace replayed the scene in his head. There wasn’t much to say after the Commander busted their chops for being sloppy on their last exit. They had to go out hot. It happened, a lot, but it put everyone in danger. Bullets flew like a swarm of locusts on both sides after they’d grabbed Faron’s brother, the second in charge of the Serpiente family drug cartel in Panama City. It was uncontrolled chaos, a fast and furious exit.

  “Any word of a new deploy?” Caleb asked, turning his red bristled head toward the Lieutenant. “Naomi’s just about ready to have the baby, and—”

  The room erupted with congratulations and everyone clapped Caleb on the back.

  Lieutenant Cobbs rose to stand next to the Commander. Only an inch apart in size, both were warriors that any man would think twice about taking on. Together they had more medals and service awards than the entire West Coast teams put together. They’d been swim buddies, BUD/S recruits together, and though as different in personality as two men could be, they were best friends, and both extremely deadly.

  “You’re on stand down as of tomorrow. Make good use of it and be around for the family.” Lieutenant Cobbs gave Caleb a thoughtful look. “Congratulations, Petty Officer Stone. You thought sleep deprivation as a SEAL was tough, you ain’t seen nothing yet, son,” he said, reaching out and shaking his hand.

  Captain Redding’s radio broke with base traffic and all the men’s heads turned when Kayla answered. The Commander reached across the desk and turned the volume down. “I’d like them to be listening to me, not her,” he said, giving Redding a dry look.

  “Sorry, Ghost, didn’t think she’d be that big of a distraction.” Winking at the team, Redding ignored the Commander’s burning look as he reached for the phone on his desk.

  Turning the radio off didn’t help because the entire squad was looking through the glass. Commander Austen twisted the long stem hanging from the blinds, snapping them shut. “As I was saying—Mace.” He zeroed in on him and Tony. “Find something to wind down, and that something doesn’t work here.”

  Both he and Tony gave each other a “yeah, fine” look.

  “Jesus, that’s not good news,” Captain Redding said into the phone. “Yes, I’ll post them as soon as they arrive,” and hung up.

  “What’s up, Red?” the Commander asked, taking his seat behind his desk.

  “He got another one,” Redding replied, shaking his head and sighing.

  “Another one?” Cobbs questioned.

  “The Blood Shark added one more woman to his list. HQ is sending out posters they want hung dockside, and they want us to warn all women who work shifts to find a buddy to walk with.”

  “Man, who was it this time?” Clay asked.

  Redding twisted his aging hands together. “She was a nurse. Worked in the base hospital. They just found her body. All they had to do was follow the flies. Married to a sailor deployed overseas right now, two kids.”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Why the hell can’t they catch this guy?” Cobbs growled. “I told Marg the base is off limits until they find that piece of shit. She says most of the wives are keeping clear anyway, they’re scared even if they don’t fit the profile.”

  “They’ve got all their resources on it,” Redding assured them. “He’s just one smart bastard.”

  “How many is that, Red?” the Commander asked, swiveling in his chair.

  “Eight. This guy is prolific, and the kills are getting closer together. He must be losing it fast.”

  Nathan crossed his arms tightly, asking, “How the hell does he pick ‘em? Do they think it’s random?”

  “Not at all,” Redding replied. “They’re all the same, brunettes—beautiful brunettes. Same approximate size, similar features, he likes to slaughter women in their late thirties or forties. I hope they catch that son of a bitch soon, and save the justice system some money with a bullet between the eyes.”

  Mace rammed his hands in his pockets. It was either that or hit something. Tony was close enough. “Everyone thinks the Shark works on this base. What does that say about us? We travel thousands of miles to track down bad guys, but we won’t do it on our own soil, while this fuckin’ monster tears our women apart.”

  “Mace—they will find him. NCIS knows what they’re doing,” the Commander assured everyone, and raised the blinds. “Someone should tell Ms. Banks. She’s in that age range.”

  All the men craned their necks. Kayla and John stood next to the charts covering the west wall. Track lighting illuminated where he pointed. Mace drew a grin watching John’s body language. He was trying to impress her. Kayla smiled, bowing her head, her long lashes whisking her cheeks, and it just about dropped him to his knees. He was going to get a damn date with the woman if it killed him. He’d already asked around. She wasn’t married.

  “Talk to her,” the Commander said gruffly.

  “Does that mean you think she’s beautiful, boss?” Mace asked, knowing he was going to pay for the comment.

  The Commander turned a deadly blue glare on him. “Mace, the zodiacs need some cleaning, I think you’re just the man for the job.”

  The guys chuckled, and a couple of them gave him a cuff on the shoulder.

  “You just never know when to shut your mouth, do ya, Mace?” Tony jeered.

  Captain Redding laughed as well. “I will, Ghost. John says Kayla’s ready to go on her own soon. Speaking of which—I’m sending the three of them out on a familiarization trip this afternoon on the harbor boat. You guys want to throw in a little practice?”

  “Never say no to practice,” Nathan piped up. “Terrorist, search and seizure?” he asked, raising a brow at the Commander.

  “A little below your skill set, isn’t it, men? Three civilians, one of them a woman.” He surveyed them, and they all waited for a thumbs-up. “Fine, gear up,” the Commander ordered
.

  “I’ll do the searching and seizing,” Mace offered, thinking about getting into a close quarters situation with Kayla, but it earned him another scowl from the Commander. What the hell? If he didn’t know the Commander as well as he did, he’d swear his boss was being possessive. Yeah, right! The Commander left a trail of women behind him like shrapnel.

  Chapter Three

  “Okay, lady and gentlemen you’re going out on the water instead of just talkin’ to it,” Captain Redding said, when he wandered into the ops room around two. Kayla and her two compadres turned their attention to their new Officer in Charge.

  “Always up for a fam trip,” Barry said, jumping out of his chair.

  “What are we doing, Captain?” she asked, standing to join Barry. A call came in and she broke off to take a position report from two naval training vessels bound for the U.S.-Mexican border.

  “You’re heading out on a quick mission,” Captain Redding advised.

  “Mission?” She looked warily at Barry and Gord. She knew working with the US Navy brought a completely new angle that they weren’t used to.

  “Mais oui, Madame,” Redding said, but it sounded more like “maze wheeze,” offering up his attempt at French with a definite American twang.

  “Capitaine, vous allez devoir travailler d'accent,” she said, grinning at him.

  Redding chuckled. “Okay, you got me, I’m a little rusty. Now,” he said, clapping his hands together, “get yourselves down to dock Bravo. It’s about a ten minute walk. The Captain of the harbor patrol boat is John Themes. Good guy. He’s been around as long as God, and he knows the Port inside and out. He’s going to give you a tour so you can get an aspect from the water. Go.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gord gave him a salute, and a lousy one at that, she thought.

  “Oh—and ah, keep your eyes open for SEALs.”

  “Seals, sir? Seals aren’t exactly a novelty. We’ve seen plenty before.”

  “Not this kind.” He grinned at her.

  Kayla, Gord and Barry reached the docks within ten minutes. With the warm San Diego sun beaming down on them, she looked forward to this familiarization trip. They stopped to locate Bravo dock once they’d cleared a row of buildings on the waterfront. Men in wet suits scuttled about on one of the fingers leading from shore. Smaller training vessels bobbed beside the pier. She recognized most of them, a CRCC, Combat Rubber Raiding Craft, an eleven-meter RHIB, Rigid-Hull Inflatable Boat, good for extreme weather and high speed to move the SEALs with a low profile, and the MK V, Mark Five, good for medium range ocean transport, and often used for coastal patrols.