by Sandra Hill
“Yes, it is, honey. And he was a very brave man.”
“I know.” He probably did. He’d been told about his father almost since birth.
In front of the platform were dozens of folding chairs to accommodate those vetted friends, news media, and town folks. There were law enforcement people all over the place, both in uniform and not. Finn sat in the front row, wearing an old suit of Dave’s that Julie had lent him. He looked different. Normal. Not that he wasn’t normal.
The grim, alert expression revealed none of the passion he’d shown her last night. That shouldn’t disappoint her, but it did.
“Finn is lookin’ at you, Mommy.”
“I know, honey. Don’t stare.”
She didn’t know what she was going to do with this man with a past . . . from the past. She loved him. She knew that. And it had nothing to do with Dave. But today’s ceremony cemented her feelings about their future together. There was none. She would not sit through another memorial service for another man. She just couldn’t.
The mayor continued to drone on, followed by a state senator who used this opportunity for his own gain. Then Lieutenant Jacob Alvarez Mendozo, JAM, stepped forward.
She noticed Finn cock his head to the side, gazing at the statue behind her. Suddenly, he jumped up and hollered, “Move out of here, everyone. Move! Move! It’s behind the brass plate.” Rushing up to the platform, he literally picked her and Mike up, tossing them to the ground. “Run!” He did the same for Dave’s parents.
“Are you crazy, Ericsson?” JAM yelled.
“Look, damn you,” Finn said, pointing at the statue. “The screws holding the plaque have been tampered with.”
“Mayday! Mayday!” someone shouted.
“A bomb!” someone else shrieked.
A melee broke out then as people shoved and stumbled trying to get away.
When the bomb finally exploded, tossing Dave’s bronze body to smithereens . . . just as it had been in real life . . . chairs, wood, slivers of metal, and microphones flew through the air like deadly missiles. A horrified Lydia realized, slowly, that only a few people had been left within the perimeter of the blast.
And one of them was Finn.
Her keening wail filled her ears, and then she fainted.
And so it ends . . .
Jamal came out of the house to witness the explosion, happy to have at last completed his noble vengeance. He intended to slip away shortly, back to, not Michigan, but his homeland: Iraq.
However, in the settling dust, he noticed Lydia Denton and her crying son were alive and being ministered to on a bench in front of the drug store.
“Aaarrgh!” Running back into the house, he barely looked at the terrified eyes of the elderly couple still duct-taped to chairs in the kitchen. The room smelled from their soiled clothing since he’d refused to release them to use the toilet. No matter to him.
He ran toward the town center, pistol in one hand and rifle in the other. In the chaos, no one noticed him at first. So, he was able to get off two rounds before the idiot FBI and SEAL protectors rushed him. He had hit some people, but he was not sure who. Within twenty yards of the drug store, he saw Lydia Denton sit up straight and stare right at him. In her eyes, he saw not anger. Or fear. But pity.
How dared she pity him!
He shot both weapons at once before he felt a dozen bullets riddle his body.
It was over.
He fell to the ground, his lifeblood flowing out of him.
Finally, peace enveloped him.
A stitch in time . . .
Lydia and Mike sat in the waiting room of Doc Fallon’s clinic later that afternoon.
She had wanted Mike to go home with everyone else after they learned that Finn had only suffered superficial wounds, but the little boy insisted. Mike usually didn’t attach himself to new people like this, but it was as if he sensed that Finn was something more than his mommy’s friend.
“Why did that bad man make a bomb, Mommy?”
“He was sick, honey. In his head. A long time ago he lost his wife and his little boy, and he was missing them so much.”
“Like you miss my daddy?”
“Well, sort of.”
Mike had been whisked away before he could see the actual devastation. No one had died, but Mayor Svensson might very well lose an arm. The senator had a concussion. Finn needed a few stitches on his arm and shoulders. Many people had abrasions. The elderly couple who’d been hostages were dehydrated and in shock at a nearby hospital. It could have been a deadly disaster if Finn hadn’t acted so quickly.
“Are you sure Finn is okay? Are you sure he’s really here? Maybe we should go in and check. Maybe he needs us ta hold his hand if he’s gettin’ a shot. Maybe—”
“Mike! Settle down. He’ll be out soon.”
He was about to argue when the inner office door opened.
“Your young man will be out soon, Lydia. We’re just taking X-rays to make sure there are no internal injuries,” Doc Fallon said. The gray-haired, rotund man with a jolly disposition had been her family doctor since birth. “He’s a lucky man.”
“Yes, I know,” she said.
“So, Mikey, you wanna come back and see my ice-pop freezer?”
Mike’s face brightened, but he looked to Lydia for approval.
“Sure, sweetie.”
Soon after that, Finn came out, limping slightly. Dave’s suit jacket was gone, the dress shirt stained with blood, with one sleeve ribbed and one pant leg ripped to gain access to his wounds. Lydia and Mike looked battered, too, but not as bad as Mr. Hero here.
He smiled at them, but his expression appeared strained. Well, why wouldn’t it? He’d been through hell today. They all had.
His eyes connected with hers, and held. Something was wrong. But then he glanced at Mike. “Hey, bratling, how are you doing?”
“Okay,” Mike said in a wobbly voice, then launched himself at Finn, who caught him in his arms with a wince.
“Mike,” she reprimanded, “Finn is hurt.”
Ignoring her, Mike buried his face in Finn’s neck and locked his arms and legs around him.
With a choked laugh, Finn used one hand to hold him up, under the buttocks, and the other to tousle his hair. Then, leaning his head back, Finn inquired, “Why the headlock, little one?”
Mike had tears in his eyes. Lydia hadn’t realized just how much emotion he’d bottled up since the explosion. She should have realized he was being unnaturally quiet.
“I thought you went to heaven with my daddy.”
There was supposed to be a kiss, not a kiss-off . . .
Thorfinn had made some decisions in the past hour.
He sat stiffly in the passenger seat of the vehicle as they drove back to Mill Pond Farm. Mike was asleep in the back seat, the day having finally overwhelmed the little mite. Thorfinn had offered to drive; these empty country roads would have provided good practice for him, but Lydia had insisted that he was in no condition to drive with all his injuries. She had been right. Oh, these cuts and bruises were nothing for a Viking who suffered more just surviving day to day in the far Northlands, but he was off balance in other ways.
With one hand on the steering wheel, she reached over with the other and squeezed his hand. “I was so scared. Thank God you’re safe.”
Likewise, sweetling, he thought. A thousand times likewise.
He could scarce breathe for all the emotions rushing through his body, and he did not like the feeling of helplessness. Not at all. So much could have gone differently today. He felt like a warrior after a hard-won battle. “Yea, thank the gods, you and Mike are safe, too.”
“Especially Mike, I’m sure. You just found Mike. To lose him would have been devastating to you.”
“You, too,” he said. At her look of confusion, he said, “I would have been devastated to lose you, too.”
“What?” She swung her head to the right and the vehicle swerved.
“Bloody hell! Watch the ro
ad.”
Once the vehicle was going straight again, she remarked, “You pick an odd moment to tell me something like that.”
“Well, there are so many things that we must discuss, but I will be leaving as soon as we get to your parents’ farm.”
“Why the rush?”
“Magnus and his family have already departed, along with most of the SEALs. Torolf is with your parents, waiting for my return. We will go to the flying port together.”
“Why?” she repeated. He could not see the tears, but he heard them in her voice.
“I have been notified of my acceptance to the BUD/S program. They waived the written test ’til my language skills are better.” When she did not respond to that, he continued, “I must needs work day and night for the next few sennights to prepare for this training ordeal.” What he was saying, without words, was that he was still committed to the military. But it was more than that.
She inhaled and exhaled several times. “Mike and I can’t return yet. We’ve got to stay another week. Spend some time with the Dentons, as originally planned.”
“I understand that. ’Tis why we must settle some things afore I depart.”
She drove the car over to a side road and turned off the motor. Only then did she ask, “Such as?”
“Our wedding. Can you set a date that coincides with my break afore entering the official training program in the fall?”
“I beg your pardon. I don’t recall hearing a marriage proposal, let alone my acceptance.”
“Will you marry me?” he asked, realizing his mistake. He had forgotten that women could be sensitive on this subject.
“I don’t know. It depends.”
“On what?” He was affronted that she did not immediately accept his proposal. In truth, it was the first he had ever made, his marriage to Luta having been arranged by both sets of parents.
“Do you love me, Finn?”
He groaned inwardly. “I care for you, Lydia. I just told you how strongly I felt when I feared for your safety.”
“Caring is not the same as love, Finn.”
“Is this about the military?”
She shook her head. “No, much as I despair of being with another military man, I concede that is what you are. But, while I can accept marriage to another SEAL, I cannot accept marriage without love.”
She is like a dog with a bone. A precious dog. “When I realized that there might be a bomb behind you today, my world crashed. From that moment ’til I saw you again an hour later, I did not know if you were still alive, or injured badly. I understood then, for the first time, how strong my feelings for you are. Is that not enough?”
“No. I care about my dance studio. I care about world peace. I care about my friends. That is not love.”
He put both hands to his head and pulled his own hair with frustration. “I do not even know what love is.”
“Yes, you do. You love Mike, don’t you?”
“You want me to love you the same way I love Miklof?”
“You are an idiot!”
“Well, we are going to wed, and that is that.”
“It’s not a decision you can make for me.”
“I’m not letting you go.”
“That’s good, because I’m not letting you go, either. You can skedaddle off to California, or Timbuktu, but you won’t escape me. I intend to make you fall in love with me.”
Ski-dad-hull? Tim-buck-what? He smiled, he could not help himself. “Such passion! Is it possible to make a person fall in love? By the by, you never said . . . do you love me?”
“Of course, I love you.”
“So, you intend to wage an assault on me ’til I surrender with love?”
“Exactly.”
“Wage on,” he said.
And she did. She released her seat belt and his, and with Miklof still asleep in the back seat, she squirmed onto his lap and kissed and kissed and kissed him. Her tongue was even in his mouth. His tongue might have crept into her mouth. For a certainty, his cock was saluting her enthusiasm.
Finally, when he was able to take her by the shoulders and set her back on her own seat, she said, “Did it work yet?”
“Nay, methinks I will need more convincing. After all, love does not come easily to a Norseman.”
She grinned . . . a wicked, purely enticing grin. “Batten down the hatches, Mr. Viking, because you haven’t seen anything ’til you’ve seen a determined Minnesota Viking.”
Beware of women with vibrators . . .
Lydia and Mike had been back in California for two weeks, and while Finn had come to see them—or at least come to see Mike—there had been no opportunity for her to be alone with the man and try to make him fall in love with her. If that was even possible.
“I’m desperate,” Lydia said on a long sigh. “Finn says he cares about me, but he doesn’t love me. How can I marry a man who doesn’t love me? I mean, marriage is hard enough for two people in love,” she said to Kirstin, Madrene, Alison, and a newcomer to her pole-dancing class—Torolf’s wife, Hilda.
They were all at the Hotel Del, enjoying a Sunday brunch, while Mike was playing video games at a neighbor’s house.
“I do not see why you would even want that hard-headed, arrogant, lackwitted son of a troll,” Hilda said, licking her lips and moaning with delight at the sinful strawberry and cream crepes she was devouring.
“Aren’t all men like that?” Lydia laughed, especially when the other four women nodded vigorously. She’d already had a mushroom and cheese omelette with a croissant and was eyeing the fresh fruit plate on a neighboring table.
“He should be chasing you, honey. Maybe you could try making him jealous,” Kirstin suggested. “It’s a good thing we don’t come here very often. I’d be a blimp.” She and Madrene had ordered homemade waffles with blueberries and maple syrup.
“Never happen.” These four women were physically fit, none overweight. She liked to think she was at least partly responsible for that.
“I think you need a very specific plan. And that means lists. Does anyone have a pen and paper?” This from Kirstin, the college professor in her coming to the fore.
“Okay, you tried telling him you loved him. Now you need to hit him where he is most sensitive,” Alison said.
There was a short silence before Madrene blurted out, “His cock.”
“Madrene!” the rest of them exclaimed with shock, but they were all laughing.
“His manpart, then. Same thing.”
Kirstin wrote SEX on her list.
“My biggest problem is getting Finn to be alone with me. This pre-SEAL training is consuming so much of his time.”
“Too bad you can’t just tie him to a chair . . .” Hilda’s words trailed off.
“Or a bed,” Kirstin added.
“Like a sex slave,” Madrene contributed.
“With chains. Naked.” This from Alison.
They all smiled then, food forgotten.
And Kirstin added to her list: KIDNAP. CHAINS. SEDUCE.
They all remained silent then, pondering.
“I’m not going to do the love slave, handcuffs thing again,” Lydia decided.
“Hmmm. Maybe jealousy would be the best way to make him realize how much he really loves you.” This from Kirstin, who was back to picking at her strawberry and whipped cream waffle. She crossed KIDNAP and CHAINS off her list and added JEALOUSY.
“Chocolate body paint always worked for me,” said Hilda.
“Where can I buy chocolate body paint?” Lydia wanted to know. At the other inquiring faces, she explained, “If I can’t get him to fall in love with me by jealousy, at least I could use it as a weapon of sexual torture.”
“I know where you can buy the neatest tingling body oil to use with a special vibrating massager,” Kirstin added for the “weapons” arsenal.
They all agreed to stop for one of those on the way home.
“Then there’s Geek’s penile wax glove, of course.” Madrene had
an impish gleam in her eyes. “I tried it on Ian one night, and he still gets a goofy look on his face when he puts on his dress gloves.”
“Feathers would be good, too,” said Hilda.
“Good heavens, when I finally get married, I am going to know so much good stuff.” Kirstin actually managed a straight face with that fib; she knew plenty on her own, would be Lydia’s guess.
“Listen, I have an idea that could make Finn jealous and make him realize how much he loves me all at the same time,” Lydia offered tentatively. “Does anyone have a video recorder?”
“I do.” Kirstin’s eyebrows were raised at her in question.
“Well, I have the flesh-colored leotards and the pole.” Lydia then outlined her idea.
“It might work,” Madrene said.
The others smiled in agreement.
After that, they kept adding to the list of what they would need to implement Lydia’s plan, laughing ’til they got dirty looks from the maître d’. When they rose to leave, they noticed a table of Navy officers behind them. They were all grinning.
Chapter 19
Was Dr. Phil ever a Navy SEAL? . . .
Thorfinn was running on the beach at Coronado with Torolf, Slick, Sly, JAM, Geek, and Cage. Amazingly, he was starting to enjoy jogging, and, for a certainty, his body was in better condition than it had ever been. He could even run and talk at the same time, which he had not been able to do in the beginning.
When they stopped at the five-mile mark to rest before the return trek, Sly looked sideways at him. “You’re gonna diddle around and lose her, you know.”
Navy SEALs were as bad as Vikings, Thorfinn was discovering. They minded everybody’s affairs but their own.
