Breaking the Rules

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Danny wasn’t the only one sleeping badly. Jenn looked exhausted, and had clearly given up all attempts at looking professional, which was actually an improvement, in Izzy’s book. She was one of those women whose coif surrendered to a bad hair day with the slightest change in the weather, and who invariably snagged her stockings if she walked or moved. She was the one who’d lose a button on her strait-laced suit jacket thirty seconds before the Big Important Meeting, and she, alone, would get splashed when a car went through a puddle going round a corner. It was her shoulder the baby would throw up on while his diaper leaked on her sleeve, and while riding the subway, she was guaranteed to get jostled and spill her coffee down the front of her blouse.

  She also had what Izzy thought of as a milk-maid complexion and physique. She was a tall, strapping, healthy young woman with gorgeous, fresh-looking skin. And she looked far more natural in the jeans, sneakers, and curve-hugging T-shirt she currently had on, with her baby-fine hair pulled back into a ponytail, all makeup scrubbed from her ordinary yet extremely not-unpleasant face.

  “You look like you could use a break,” Jenkie told her. “We’ll sit with Danny for a while, if you want.”

  Jenn looked uncertain until Izzy added, “We’ll stay until you get back. Go on, I can hear the coffee from the mess hall singing your name in three-part harmony. Jenny, I’ve got your number, I need to make you mine …”

  She smiled when he sang and dimples appeared, and as Izzy gazed through her glasses and into her eyes—a nondescript light brown until combined with that smile—he felt a flash of understanding as to why Dan was so into her. She was pretty damn cute.

  “I’ve never heard that song before,” she said dryly. “Oh, wait, except for every single day in sixth grade.”

  As she turned and slipped out from behind the curtained partition, Izzy also made note of the way her generously curvaceous behind filled her jeans. Some people might have thought of her ass as being too generous, but the bottom line—pun intended—was that without the business suit and the sensible flat pumps, she was a seriously nice-looking woman.

  And yet, she was completely against Dan’s usual type for a fly-to-Germany-because-you’re-in-the-hospital girlfriend. She was quite the standard, however, when it came to a meaningless vacation fling—a no-real-strings opportunity for the movie-star-handsome SEAL to get some.

  In fact, Dan himself had concisely described his usual MO to Izzy, a mere few months earlier: Everyone wants to get laid. That’s just a fact of life. But there are ways to do it. Strategies. You don’t just automatically follow your dick. You use your head with the brain. You find the chunky girl with the really pretty friends. She’s low maintenance and low drama, plus she’s wired to believe that you’re too good to be true. She expects to be dumped, so when you do it, she lets go immediately.

  Problem was, Jenn had overheard Dan as he’d spouted that elegant monologue to Izzy. She’d reacted as strongly as one might expect.

  And she’d been so intent on putting distance between herself and Dan “Yes, I Really Did Just Call the Woman I’m Sleeping with Chunky” Gillman, she’d fallen into the clutches of a very nasty, crazy-ass son-of-a-bitch who sliced and diced woman as part of a lifelong hobby.

  Danny had literally helped their team leaders blast through a wall to find her, at which point she’d fallen into his arms. But Izzy had seen the remains of some of the crazy serial killer’s victims, and he would have fallen, sobbing no less, into Danny’s strong arms, too, had he been the one tied up and at the top of the nasty-ass dude’s “to-do” list.

  Still, the arm-falling-into had been temporary. Several hours after Jenn’s release from the hospital, Danny had shown up back at the hotel room the SEALs were sharing, looking a little shell-shocked at the fact that she’d sent him away. She’d apparently also told him that if he truly were serious about her, he should come back to visit her—after his next trip overseas.

  She’d wait, she’d told him, but she wouldn’t wait forever.

  It was a variation on the if you love someone, set them free theme, and good thinking on Jenn’s part.

  It had, however, driven Dan completely crazy.

  He’d spent most of their time overseas in the computer tent, sending Jenni e-mail. And apparently whatever he’d sent her had worked. Because here Jenn was, playing the role of the dickweed’s girlfriend, sitting patiently by the side of his hospital bed as he snored his days away and kept her up all night in a bad and entirely unromantic way.

  Izzy leaned against the bed and shook it.

  “What!” Dan said as he jerked awake. Or nearly awake. As SEALs, they’d all learned it was best to snap into high alert before their eyes even opened. But Danny had gotten soft these past few weeks in the hospital. Or maybe it wasn’t his fault. Maybe he was still heavily medicated.

  Either way, the man was in a serious fog. He wiped the drool from the side of his face with his non-IV-attached arm as he looked around for Jenn and didn’t find her.

  “She went for coffee,” Izzy reported cheerfully as he sat down in the chair she’d recently vacated.

  “How are you doing?” Jenk asked Danny, who shook his head.

  “Fucking low-grade infection,” he complained. “I keep telling them I’m fine, but they’re afraid to release me. Guess it’s really broken, huh?”

  Jenk shook his head as he looked down at the cast on his arm. “Yeah, what a pain in the ass. But they’re finally shipping me stateside. I’m going to desk-it in Commander Koehl’s office for a few more weeks.” He smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really complaining. The timing’s actually pretty good. I’ll get to watch Lindsey expand.”

  “And puke her guts out every morning, noon, and night,” Izzy said.

  “No, so far she’s good,” Jenk said.

  “Famous last words,” Dan said.

  They were in agreement. “Yeah. Cut to a close-up of Lindsey as she lunges for the porcelain god,” Izzy said, and look at that. He and Dan actually exchanged a we know something Jenk doesn’t know glance. He resisted the urge to check his cell phone, see if he’d gotten any tweets about hell finally freezing over.

  “Hey, there you are.”

  The voice that interrupted them was definitely female and oddly familiar. They all turned to see a woman coming through the curtain—gorgeous and young, with thick blond hair tumbling down around her shoulders. She was wearing a little black hormone-jangling dress that hugged her trim yet completely female body, topping it off with a pair of strappy high heels and red toenail polish at the south end of a pair of truly exceptional legs.

  Despite it being 0940, she looked like a million bucks, dressed and made up for an evening out in one of the town’s pricier restaurants.

  Izzy was certain that he knew her from somewhere, but he squinted, unable to remember where they’d met, or even when. Damn, she was hot. And, to be honest, if he’d sat down next to her at that bar last night, the evening could well have ended with a different outcome.

  Of course, she was probably supernice, too. And as long as he was being honest, he needed to admit the fact that, should he have sat down next to her at that bar last night? He would’ve come up with a dozen solid reasons for not sleeping with her, too.

  She was not Eden.

  She had never been Eden.

  She was never going to become Eden …

  Yeah. He was such a loser. He would have said no to her, too.

  Dan and Jenk were also struck dumb and staring—gaping almost—and the woman laughed as she came around to the other side of Dan’s bed.

  “You have no idea who I am, out of uniform like this, do you?” She was looking at and speaking to Dan, whose messy hair and need for a morning shave now made him look like he belonged on the cover of GQ—now that his eyes were open and his mouth was closed, that is. She held out her hand to him, and the gold bracelet she wore on her slender wrist sparked in the fluorescent light. “Sheila Anderson. I’m glad to see you’re still in one
piece, sir.”

  Ah, of course. It was Marine Private S. Anderson, who’d helped Izzy save Dan’s life. She’d cleaned up pretty damn nice.

  But Danny, in his wooziness, still hadn’t put two and two together. He did, however, shake lovely Sheila’s lovely hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, no doubt frantically searching through his vast system of mental files of women he’d banged, and coming up—correctly—empty. “Sheila …?”

  “Or maybe I should say, I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece, Oh Great One. It was touch and go there, for a while.”

  Dan laughed his relief as dawn broke. “Oh! Right. Yeah. Private, um, Anderson. Out of context, you know? That and, um …” His gaze slid almost involuntarily down to that awesome dress’s extra-awesome neckline, and he forced it back to her face. “The hair.”

  Yeah, right.

  But she laughed again. “I usually wear it like …” She tipped her head and exposed a very lovely length of smooth, soft neck as she gathered her golden fairy-princess tresses into a severe ponytail. “Does that help?”

  Dan nodded. “Yeah, sorry, I, um—”

  “No worries,” she said as she let her hair bounce back around her shoulders. “I am a little overdressed for a hospital visit. There was a party last night and … I had too much wine and stayed over with a friend who’s a nurse. I thought I’d pop in to say hi, as long as I had the chance.”

  Okay, so the magnificence they were seeing was actually morning-after-Sheila, and yes, on closer examination, Izzy could see that her mascara was slightly smudged. But only slightly. And he knew that Dan and Jenk were thinking the same thing he was. If this was what Sheila looked like after an evening of too much wine … It was hard not to imagine what she’d look like during a very private party, one held in bed, sans that dress.

  Of course, she chose that exact moment, while Izzy was—despite her not being Eden—imagining her naked, to turn to him and say, “Nice to see you again, too. Zanella, right? I’m glad you’re okay.”

  And oh, shit. Private Anderson had no clue that she was on the verge of revealing a state secret.

  Izzy nodded, uncertain of what to say, but she was already on to Jenk.

  “How’s your wrist?” she asked.

  But Jenk didn’t get a chance to answer her, because someone else had come to the curtain.

  “Excuse me. I’m looking for Dan Gillman.”

  This time the voice was that of a heavy smoker, his baritone gravelly and rough, with a hint of N’Orleans. He was older and Army—a master sergeant—in BDUs that were faded yet neat and sharply creased, his boots polished to a high gleam.

  His dark hair was graying at the temples and his face …

  It was like looking into a wormhole and seeing a version of Danny from the future.

  If, that is, Danny quit the SEAL teams, joined the U.S. Army, smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, and drank himself into an alcohol-induced stupor every night for twenty-five years.

  Beside him in the bed, Dan looked as if his tension level had ratcheted to DEFCON two. Izzy was on a similar edge. This was also Eden’s father. Which made this guy Izzy’s father-in-law.

  “You found him,” Sheila said brightly, failing to pick up on Dan’s discomfort. Her tone, unfortunately, held a come on in subtext. “Wow, you’ve got to be his father. Genetics in action …”

  Izzy stood up as Dan Gillman the elder came into the little curtained-off area, as father and son were face-to-face for the first time in God knows how long.

  He didn’t know all of the details of the Gillman family history—only bits and pieces. Such as Dan senior had left his wife Ivette for good after Dan junior—aged eleven or twelve—had threatened to kill him. Or maybe the threats were the result of Danny finding out that his father was leaving and not coming back. Izzy wasn’t sure of the exact chronology.

  But he suspected domestic violence of some sort had been involved, and he knew that Danny still hated his father with a passion. It had been a point of contention between Dan and his sister Eden, who’d gone to live with the man when she’d turned eighteen.

  The older Gillman now smelled as if he’d stopped at the nearest bar and consumed a serious amount of liquid courage before coming here.

  He was playing it upbeat and friendly, though. “Hey, son, how’re you feeling?” he asked, but didn’t give Danny time to answer. “I spoke to the captain. He’s an excellent doctor—a good man. I’ve known him for years. He says you’re going to keep the leg. I was glad to hear that.” He turned to Sheila. “And you must be Danny’s girlfriend, come all the way from New York. Aren’t you a pretty little thing. I swear, this boy has the sweetest tooth when it comes to women. He must’ve gotten it from his father.”

  And yes. There was Jenn, back from the mess hall with her coffee in hand, stopped short by the master sergeant’s words, just outside of that curtain. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked over at Sheila, as the blonde laughed her musical laugh.

  Oh, shit. Izzy stood up, uncertain of what to do.

  Sheila was too busy flirting with Dan Gillman the elder, to notice Jenn standing there. Or maybe she was flirting with the younger Gillman, because she sent Danny a loaded little smile, too. “Don’t I wish, but … No, I’m not. We’re just … good friends. I’m a marine. We were stationed at the same base for a while. I was there when the sniper opened fire and I helped get Dan airlifted out.”

  Dan was too busy trying to incinerate his father with his eyes to notice either Sheila’s suggestive pauses and smiles or Jenn.

  “Well, doesn’t that give a whole new meaning to send in the Marines,” Dan’s father said, but then he sobered. Figuratively. And took the opportunity to take Sheila’s lovely hand. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

  Sheila turned to Izzy. “It was actually Zanella who did the actual lifesaving, by sharing his blood,” she said, spilling that very big secret, even as Danny talked over her.

  “Oh, please.” He spoke to his father—apparently he couldn’t keep it in any longer. “You have some nerve, coming in here and—” But then he turned to Sheila. “What did you say?”

  “No, that was Jenk,” Izzy corrected her, trying to signal her with his eyes, but she wasn’t looking at him.

  “Yeah, that was, um, me,” Jenk agreed.

  Sheila laughed. “I was there. It was totally Zanella.” But then she noticed the shock on Dan’s face and the now-awkward silence in the room. She finally looked back at Izzy and then over to Jenk. “Was that … something I shouldn’t have said?”

  “It was you?” Dan asked Izzy. “What the hell … ? Did you actually think I would have a problem with that?” He turned and saw Jenn and included her in his disbelief. “What am I, a fucking child?”

  “You watch your mouth in front of a lady,” his father admonished, his focus still on Sheila.

  Dan looked at the man. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

  The elder Dan bristled and even took a menacing step toward his son, and both Izzy and Jenk moved to intercept. Jenn, too, came farther into the room.

  “Danny,” she said, but Dan didn’t hear her.

  He was furious, and happy to take it out on his father, pushing himself so that he was sitting up. “Yeah, that’s way more familiar, Dad. Go on and backhand a man in a hospital bed, that’s just your speed. And since I’m not twelve anymore, it’s the only way you’ll come even remotely close to achieving contact.” But then he turned to Izzy. “What the hell, Zanella?” he said again. “Did you seriously think I’d have some kind of sixth-grade problem with—”

  “I didn’t have a vote,” Izzy protested. “I was kind of unconscious when the decision was made.” But Jenn spoke over him, and he was happy to yield the floor to her.

  “Okay,” she said loudly. “This is definitely counterproductive. Danny, don’t you dare get out of that bed. Your father is leaving.” She motioned to Gillman the elder. “Come on, Master Sergeant. If you spoke to the doctor, t
hen you know that what Dan needs right now is rest, not stress.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re right, I didn’t mean to …” Dan’s father had already begun to retreat, but then he stopped. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, stiffly, politely, “but I was hoping to get a chance to meet Dan’s girlfriend. I was wondering if you could—”

  He cut himself off, no doubt because he’d finally taken the time to focus on Jenn and he saw that she wasn’t in uniform.

  “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry, I thought you were the nurse. Are you …?” Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his incredulity from his voice or his face.

  “Oh, good,” Danny growled. “Insult my girlfriend.”

  “I didn’t mean—” Dan senior started, even as Jenn quietly said, “Danny, it’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not all right,” Danny said. “What does he think, he can just walk in here and pretend he gives a shit, and then turn around and look at you like that?” He turned to his father. “You met my girlfriend, now go.”

  “Call your family,” Dan senior ground out. “They’re worried about you.”

  “Danny,” Jenn was saying, over his father’s words, “please sit back. They’re not going to let you go home if you …”

  Izzy didn’t hear the rest of her sentence, because he’d already nodded at Jenk, silently asking him to assist in clearing the room, even as he took Master Sergeant Gillman by the arm and led him out into the hallway and over to the elevators.

  “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” Izzy said even as Gillman muttered, “Jesus, I fucked that up. What is wrong with me?”

  “Besides twenty-five years of being an alcoholic?” Izzy asked. “Or … now I’m thinking you probably meant that as more of a rhetorical question, so I’ll just stick to what I know.” He held out his hand. “I’m Irving Zanella, petty officer first class, U.S. Navy SEALs. I’m a teammate of Dan’s. I’m also your daughter Eden’s husband. Dad.”

  “You’re the asshole who knocked her up?”

  “No,” Izzy said, taking several hasty steps back, because it sure looked as if Dan-the-senior was going to follow the time-honored Gillman tradition of punching Izzy’s face before getting the whole story. “I’m the guy who married her when she needed help, because some other guy knocked her up. Which makes me more of a loser than an asshole. At least according to, um, my definition …”