Cruisin' for a SEAL

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Looks like a street fighter, not a dancer,” Mark said.

  “And I think you’d be right. I don’t think he’s a dancer at all,” said Kyle.

  Moshe was waiting for them at one of the tables in a corner by a large window that was covered by padded window shades. The boat was rocking heavily. Mark noted the ship’s captain was probably trying to make up time. Kyle and Armando sat down, while Mark went over to the window covering and pulled one corner of it aside, staring out at the moonlight reflecting off the churning waters of the sea.

  “Hey, Mark,” Moshe raised his voice. “Keep that closed. We’re not that far from shore.”

  “What’s up with that?”

  A young server with a pretty face and dark hair done up in a bun added her explanation, “We have an agreement with some of the African countries not to bother them at night with our lights.”

  Kyle wrinkled his nose. Mark didn’t understand how their lights, just like the lights from merchant ships they’d been passing, would bother anyone.

  “That just doesn’t make any sense at all,” Mark said as he re-secured the padding and came back to the table. Moshe had a meaningful look on his face, but said nothing until after the server left with their orders.

  “It doesn’t make sense. That’s just what we tell the passengers,” Moshe began. “Truth is, at night, we make a pretty huge target.”

  “No shit?” Armando asked.

  “Just a precaution. Nothing’s ever happened, you understand. But everyone is extremely careful, as required by the insurance carrier for the line. That’s the reason for a beefed-up security detail—about double what we usually have. You know that expression, better safe than sorry? That’s why they hired me. They love Israeli special forces guys.” Moshe frowned and held off saying anything more while their beers were served.

  That’s when Mark noticed that Moshe’s nametag identified him as coming from the U.S., not Israel. He decided to ask him about it. “You a U.S. citizen, Moshe?”

  The Israeli officer tilted his head and gave a kind smile. “Fewer complications that way. But the whole crew knows. Not many know my background, and I want it kept that way.”

  “Agreed,” Kyle said and clinked glasses with him. Armando and Mark added their glasses to the toast.

  “Which brings me to something I must discuss with you all. The situation today, while I’m not at liberty to divulge the details, is troubling to me.” Moshe took a small sip and pushed his glass away like he was abandoning it nearly full. “I’ve got a small war going on downstairs, and I just want to give you a heads-up.”

  Mark knew that somehow this involved the Brazilian tango instructor, if that’s what he really was.

  “I’ve tried to reason with Roberto. We had a scene earlier today that Kyle and Armando here witnessed, between our Moroccan dance troupe and the Brazilian.” Moshe swallowed, searching the room before he continued. “Roberto is a hothead, but he’s bitten off the head of a cobra, only to find the babies are more deadly. I’ve got nine Moroccans performing tonight for the late show, and one in the hold with minor injuries.”

  “He going to be all right?” Kyle asked.

  “There is no all right about this situation. It’s a powder keg.” Moshe stared down at his hands, fingers linked and resting on the yellow resin tabletop. “I’m going to try to get them tossed in the Canaries. I have to speak to our representative onshore when we arrive there day after tomorrow. You can’t just kick someone off the ship without making sure the host country will take them.”

  “I hear that. Sounds like a plan. Less for you to have to manage,” Kyle nodded and sipped his beer.

  “There is no managing these people sometimes. I wish they’d leave some of these decisions to us. We are involved in the screening of the crew and staff, but the entertainment is hired by the entertainment director, and I’m afraid he isn’t quite the man for the job.”

  Mark was concerned for Sophia’s welfare. “Moshe, I know there are rules about getting involved with the staff and crew. But I—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. If I didn’t hear it, it didn’t happen,” Moshe returned.

  Mark’s belly began to do flip-flops. He felt sweat dripping down the middle of his back. “Is she safe?”

  “As long as she stays out of the crossfire.” Moshe’s serious face alarmed Mark even further. “You don’t want to do anything that will upset the Brazilian. It’s safest for her that way.”

  “I want to protect her. That’s my only motive,” Mark said shaking his head.

  “Bullshit, Mark. It’s one of your motives,” Kyle grinned.

  Armando and Kyle shared a chuckle at his expense.

  “Then what happens when a crew member gets fired? For something like breaking a rule?”

  Moshe sat back into the bright blue vinyl of the bench seat. “They get flown home immediately at the next port.”

  “What if—” his LPO interrupted Mark.

  “You’re a dumb shit, Mark. Don’t even go there. She can’t just change her mind and then be your fuck bunny, sharing your cabin from here to Brazil. It won’t happen.”

  “You’re playing with fire, my friend,” Moshe added.

  “But I see that big officer, Maksym, he’s having a fling with a passenger on our floor,” Mark answered.

  “You think you saw them,” Kyle corrected.

  “No, fuck sake, Lanny. I saw them on land, too. They were all over each other.” Mark then addressed Moshe. “He’s been to her cabin. I saw them myself.”

  Moshe shook his head. “Unfortunately, the officers have a bit more leeway, just like this meeting here. We are supposed to be strategically placed amongst the passengers. We even have security posing as passengers, just to be sure. No women, though. So this would be forbidden, but not, unfortunately, uncommon. And I think Maksym is a decent guy. I don’t trust him like Teseo, because I don’t know everything about his background. I didn’t hire or vet him for the company.”

  “Who did, then?”

  “Someone in Florida. All the ship hiring is done there. And they contract with local employment agencies in other countries, like the Philippines, Brazil and Italy.”

  “So that leaves us with Roberto. Hired by the entertainment director, then. A Frenchman, unless I’m mistaken,” said Armando.

  “Who also hired the Moroccan dancers,” Moshe added.

  “And you didn’t vet any of them?” Kyle asked.

  “No. I have their passports in the safe. That’s the extent of my involvement, other than trying to keep them from killing each other.”

  “It doesn’t change the fact that I’m worried for Sophia’s safety, Moshe. I really am. You should see the bruise on her wrist. That guy looked like he wanted to cause her pain for my benefit. Did it right in front of my eyes. I just couldn’t let that happen.”

  Moshe’s brow furrowed. “You must be exaggerating.”

  Kyle piped up. “Maybe that’s what set him off tonight. Ever thought of that?”

  “She has a fiancé. A very well liked Brazilian dancer, and it is my understanding she is completing her contract, and then staying in Brazil to be married. Why are we even talking about all this?”

  “Because she’s going to call it off,” Mark said and immediately regretted it.

  The three other men groaned.

  “You a fuckin’ idiot, Mark?” Kyle barked.

  “Doesn’t explain why Roberto is so pissed about it,” Armando said, agreeing with Mark. “He’s not the groom, after all. I think Mark’s got a point. Sophia is in some serious danger.”

  “That’s right,” Mark added. “Something’s wrong with the guy. Even Sophia said so.”

  Moshe shifted and then stood. “Okay, this is getting too complicated. I’m going to ask you to stay away from her. And all of you, stay away from Roberto. Hopefully I can keep an eye on him, and Sophia,” he nodded to Mark, “and Maksym will keep an eye on the Moroccan hotheads. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll get through
this cruise without another incident.”

  “Wow. Had no idea about all this,” Kyle sighed.

  “We have fifty-three countries represented here. We usually get along much better than our world leaders do. We try to instill the ‘one family’ concept, which results in a lot of multicultural marriages, and that’s good for the ship. Normally it’s pretty harmonious. But this cruise almost seems like it’s cursed.”

  Kyle, Armando and Mark shared that oh, shit look that happened sometimes when they got the feeling something really bad was about to happen. Mark knew his two mates were assessing threats, determining their options, searching their minds for tools to help them keep their families safe. Advance planning saved lives. Even on a cruise ship.

  They watched the handsome Israeli walk out of the bar. The heaviness of Moshe’s final statement hung like the smoke from a firefight. There was no way Mark would leave Sophia alone, even if she begged him to. Just like the rest of the Team. No one would leave one of them behind, or leave any of the ladies unprotected. She wasn’t entirely his yet, except in his heart. Didn’t make any difference, though. His honor and commitment to her settled in on his shoulders, and he felt his chest swell with the knowledge he had someone else to live for.

  He just hoped he could do it without making an international incident out of it or get them all in trouble.

  Chapter 17

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  THE NEXT DAY, Sophia submitted to Roberto for their pre-planned midmorning rehearsal in the vacant auditorium. They had a dance class to teach that afternoon, and then would be the highlight dancers for a mini grand review involving much of the dance staff from all countries. It was supposed to show the unity of the international crew of the ship.

  It was a total lie.

  Roberto was back to being well behaved and charming. Sophia knew he was working hard to get back on her good side. The pattern for him seemed to be to show his nasty side, then show his soft side. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. She warned herself not to trust this courteous Roberto, knowing the evil Roberto was lurking, ready to pounce, especially if she didn’t give him what he wanted.

  She was becoming more and more convinced his plan was to take her at any cost. His hands held her waist a little too long, they slipped down previously avoided body parts in casual caresses. His sighs and little grunts, not perceptible to anyone but her, were dangerously obvious. Did he think this sort of behavior was desired? If Mark weren’t around, she’d be going to Brazil to meet Matheus and his family. Roberto, even if she had been interested, and she never had been, would have been at best a distant second. As it was, he’d never been on her radar. What, she wondered, made him think he ever could be?

  She’d felt this cruise was a big mistake. The wedding was being planned by people she hadn’t met. “It’s the way we do it here. My mother would never forgive herself,” Matheus had said in his soft, Brazilian accent. She’d loved that part about him. His gentleness was what had attracted her to him. And the promise of an exotic life in a foreign land.

  And then, just a dream, Mark had appeared on that cobblestoned street, near the place where Matheus had proposed last year. That’s the day her whole world had changed. She impulsively decided the handsome American would be her goodbye kiss to all the men she’d loved, a goodbye kiss to her single life. She’d be taking the path away from everything familiar, from where her loving father had lived, and replacing it with an exciting new adventure in Brazil with her handsome new husband.

  She hadn’t expected that Mark’s ways would charm her so completely. The simple, direct way he’d tried to talk to her when he didn’t know she understood, with that casual American drawl and straightforward honesty that had gone straight to her heart. Just the way her father had been, the airman with the bomber jacket her mother had fallen for in Italy those years ago. Had she fallen for Mark because she missed her dad?

  She knew the answer was no. But being in Mark’s arms felt like coming home, like remembering the way the Central Valley looked in the early morning hours when the tule fog covered everything with a gray blanket. She knew what it smelled like to drive past orchards of blooming peach trees, or fields where you could almost see the corn grow. She’d remembered the picnics they’d taken at Doran Beach, when it was really too cold and windy, but she didn’t care. Her daddy was there and that was all the warmth she’d required. She remembered holding his hand while riding the cable car or visiting the aquarium in San Francisco. She remembered going to apple farms and pumpkin patches with her grade school classes, so proud her father was a soldier, and couldn’t always be there, but happy when he could be.

  She’d worked hard as a young girl to not let her grief make it harder on her mother. America had not been her mother’s home. But now Sophia realized it was hers, as surely as the name on her U.S. passport.

  She wasn’t ready to put that image of her father and her American life away forever. That’s what had opened the door a crack, why she’d taken the chance with the American that afternoon.

  And all Mark had to do was walk in. She couldn’t let him go. She couldn’t say goodbye to her past without one more dalliance, one more flirtation to help her remember what it meant to be a California girl and proud of the uniform her father wore. She’d forgotten what that service and sacrifice had meant to her.

  Roberto’s touch on her shoulder made her jump. It was more like a flinch so she plastered a bright smile on her face and spun around to greet him. Her private indecision and pain would be just that: private. She wasn’t going to share an ounce of anything going on inside her with Roberto.

  “I’m ready,” she said as she pulled her wet towel from her neck and placed her hands in position in his before he’d set his form up. She felt he’d wanted to talk to her, not resume their practice. She wasn’t going to give him the chance.

  Roberto drew her tighter against him, and she felt his arousal. With her gaze focused off to the left at a point on the wall between columns, she allowed herself to be pulled into him, allowed him to press further, felt his eyes on her, saw his little smile that quirked up at the corners of his mouth. He was pushing to have it register with her, to have her recognize his intent, but she remained the graceful ice queen who was his dance partner but never, ever would be his lover. She focused on perfect turns, being responsive to his direction, not reacting when his hand slipped between her legs in a fluid movement before he released her.

  She curtsied to the audio tech, to the invisible bodies sitting in the rows of seats out in the auditorium, to anyone who might happen to be watching them. No one would be able to tell the loathing she felt for her partner, not even her partner himself.

  “Again,” he said to the side of her face, his hot breath on her neck, his need growing. The handler dutifully replayed the set. She was grateful the good workout would relieve some of the tension in her legs, smooth over the soreness of her sex as she traveled over the dance floor, deliciously recalling the way she’d wanted Mark deep inside her. The way he’d kissed down her neck, and numbingly kissed her beneath her skirt and licked her nub, which stiffened under his tongue. She drew energy from the simple, direct ministrations of the American hero she knew would always be there for her.

  The thought of him going off to war trigged a quick reaction, and for just a second her lapse created a tear that Roberto must have noticed. She felt his grip tighten on her fingers, squeezing them until it hurt. She tried to relax, willing the salty shimmer to dissipate without running down her cheek and giving away. Miraculously, the tear evaporated and she could see the room clearly again.

  This time, when the music ended, he dropped her hands like a hot poker, without the practice bow. She allowed her arms to float back to her sides and then braved a glance into his angry face.

  It is what it is, Roberto. Sophia returned his hard glare without apology. She didn’t back down. She didn’t cower. For the first time she stood close to him, her own chest heaving, but standing tall and unafraid, just as if Mark st
ood right behind her.

  Roberto broke off the eye contact first, which was new. He picked up his towel and blotted his sweaty face and the back of his neck. His nostrils were flaring, his lips pursed and his jaw muscles bunched as he clenched his teeth. She saw understanding sink into his face.

  He wouldn’t be able to get to her anymore. She had something Roberto would probably never have.

  Someone who loved her so much he’d do anything for her. And for the first time in her life she felt the same way.

  Chapter 18

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  MARK LEARNED THAT Moshe’s request to have the Moroccans removed from the ship was denied. Moshe had been rather upset to discover that Maksym had negotiated with the office in Miami without consulting him first. Teseo explained to them over dinner that technically Maksym outranked Moshe.

  What Mark feared most was that this would bring additional pressure on Roberto, increasing the likelihood that he’d do something irrational. The more Mark watched him, the more convinced he was that Roberto made enemies wherever he went. Sophia told him that his close connection to Matheus’s wealthy family had served to protect the volatile Brazilian dancer so far.

  Mark had seen men filled with their own bravado become blind to danger. So, while Roberto was focused on competing for Sophia, he might underestimate the danger the Moroccans posed. He could find himself ill prepared, regardless of his extensive street training. Those kinds of fighters were good at the spur of the moment, but ill equipped to handle a well-coordinated and planned attack. It was always their undoing, and something the SEALs specialized in.

  “That’s fucked up, man,” Armando said. “You’d think they’d take the word of their security officer over a junior officer.

  Kyle and Cooper agreed. “Maybe the night in lockup has set the Moroccan straight,” Cooper offered.

  “Not likely,” Kyle replied.

  Christy, Devon and the rest of the SEAL wives wanted to watch the multi-country extravaganza after dinner, which meant the men had to accompany them. The Team settled in on an upper-level, unoccupied corner next to an exit. The sightlines were excellent, Mark thought.