Seducing A S.E.A.L.

by Jamie Sobrato

  No. She couldn’t be this big of a coward. She couldn’t run away from herself. She couldn’t flee from fear of her empty apartment, for God’s sake.

  She started to unlock the door, when she felt seized with panic. Her hand shook, and she couldn’t turn the key.

  She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths and held on to the door to steady herself against a sudden wave of dizziness. Again the film flashed in her mind in slow motion, each image lingering for maximum torment.

  Drew pulls her into that office, telling her to crawl out the window. Caldwell bursts in, his gun aimed right at her. Ensign Brian Buckley appears, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Caldwell turns on him, firing a round. Buckley sprawls against the opposite wall of the hallway and slides to the floor, leaving a streak of blood on his way down.

  More movement in the hallway.

  “No!” a woman’s voice cries out, and Caldwell fires again.

  She catches a glimpse of light brown, wavy hair as Marianne O’Brian, Kylie’s receptionist, falls.

  She’s frozen. Unable to act. Unable to protect a single person. When it matters most, she does nothing at all.

  Drew springs into action. While Caldwell’s attention is turned to the people in the hallway, Drew throws himself on the gunman, risking his life to take the man down. They grapple for control. Drew gets his hands on the gun and jabs Caldwell in the head with the end of it.

  Drew is on his feet, gun aimed at Caldwell as sirens outside announce the arrival of the military police.

  And still, Kylie does nothing.

  Later, an MP pries her hand off the edge of the windowsill and leads her out of the office. To exit the building she must walk past the bodies of the victims. She sees their dying and lifeless faces. She begins to make a low, keening sound that eventually causes the paramedics to wrap her up in a blanket and treat her for shock. Trial by carnage and she fails.

  Kylie opened her eyes. She wasn’t at the scene of the shooting. She was at her own front door, forehead pressed against the wood, unable to go inside.

  Her face was wet…she’d been crying. Her heart still pounded, and her breath was ragged.

  She tried to collect her thoughts, figure out what to do next, and her hand went instinctively for her cell phone in her purse. But who could she call, and what would she say?

  Hi, I’m at my own front door and I’m afraid to open it for no apparent reason.

  No, she couldn’t turn this into someone else’s problem. It was her own to deal with. She had to get away. She always kept an extra uniform and an overnight pack of necessities in her trunk. She could just go to work and get herself cleaned up and dressed there. It was early, and whoever was there already wouldn’t ask questions if she changed in her own office.

  Her own office? Why did that place sound more comforting than her empty condo? Because there were people there.

  Her mind made up, she hurried back to her car. Once inside, she realized she was going to have to calm down enough to drive safely. No easy task. Her hands were still shaking, and she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Maybe she needed to call someone after all.

  No. She needed to calm down. Take some deep breaths. Exhale. Focus on the task at hand. She wasn’t in any danger. She knew how to drive a car.

  She could do this.

  Kylie put her car in Reverse and backed out, forcing the hysteria from her mind with the mundane task of driving. She drove slowly, deliberately, around the corner, down the road, but then without thinking why, pulled over on a side street.

  Now what?

  Should she call Drew and tell him she was having a nervous breakdown? He, of all people, would understand. But he, of all people, was also her subordinate with whom she’d already crossed boundaries by sleeping together.

  No, she had to leave him out of this. Even if everything about her life was falling apart, and she didn’t know what to do next.

  She gripped the steering wheel so hard her hands began to hurt. She realized what she was doing and let go. Then she was crying. Loudly. A mournful wail threatened to escape her throat. Worse, from out of nowhere, her nausea returned with a vengeance.

  She had just enough time to open her car door, lean out and heave her minuscule breakfast onto the ground. When she was done, she felt some of the tension draining from her body. She fumbled around in the glove box to find a napkin, then dried her eyes and wiped her mouth.

  Okay. She needed to get a grip. She leaned back in her seat, reached for the recline lever on the side of it and eased the driver’s seat back a few inches. She was feeling tired now. Extremely tired.

  So she would rest for a few minutes, and then she’d try again.

  6

  BY THE TIME Kylie made it to work, the parking lot was almost full, meaning nearly everyone else was there. So she went to the pleasantly noisy military gym a half-block away and dressed in the women’s locker room. There, she didn’t look out of place cleaning herself up and getting ready for work. And no one was paying close enough attention to notice that she hadn’t broken a sweat from working out first.

  Being surrounded by normal people going about their normal business was oddly soothing to her frazzled nerves. All that normalcy gave her hope that someday she’d rejoin that team.

  When she arrived in her office five minutes late, no one took notice. That is, no one seemed to. No sooner had she settled at her desk to check her e-mail than Drew appeared in her doorway.

  “Are you okay?” he said. “I was a little worried when you didn’t show up earlier.”

  “I’m…feeling shaky, I guess.”

  She tried to turn her attention to her computer monitor, but it did no good. She was hyperaware of his presence now. She could torture herself with accurate images of what he looked like beneath his uniform, or better yet, memories of what he felt like pressed against her and inside her.

  He stepped inside her office and closed the door, taking a liberty she was sure he wouldn’t have, had they not slept together. Part of her bristled at his forwardness and lack of respect, while another part of her felt a little twinge of pleasure. Before she could stop herself, she imagined him ripping off her clothes and taking her on her own desk.

  God, she needed to get a grip. She’d gone from being a woman in control of her own destiny to being one who got turned on by a guy taking charge like a brute.

  She was no damsel in distress.

  Or at least, she’d never seen herself as one.

  Except, last week…she kind of had acted that way. And today, too, for that matter.

  Her self-concept was crumbling right before her eyes.

  “What can I help you with?” she asked using a no-nonsense tone to remind him—her?—who was commanding officer.

  “I came by to make sure you’re okay, that’s all,” he said, shrugging. He made no effort to leave.

  She raised her eyebrows. “So now you know I am, and you can go.”

  “Look,” he said, then stopped. And started again, “I just wanted to check in. I mean, after what happened and what we talked about. I don’t want you to feel as if your reputation is at stake or anything.”

  Kylie’s throat closed up tight. Her reputation. She never really thought about it, good or bad, especially when it came to those who reported to her. She mostly just did what was required to achieve her current goal. But Drew’s words made her think of her parents. Their disapproval. Their disappointment. Her reputation was the kind of thing her father would be concerned about, would say was important.

  Without thinking, she blurted, “What exactly is my reputation?”

  He stared at her uncomprehendingly. “I’m sorry?”

  “What do people say about me?”

  “Nothing,” he said too fast.

  She gave him a skeptical look. “What do you think of me? As a leader?”

  Why had she asked him that? It was a ridiculous question that would never get her an honest reply, anyway.

  “I think
you’re a good leader,” he said vaguely.

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “If you’re worried about last night changing how I view you at work, please don’t—”

  “That’s not what I mean. I want to know if I’m a good officer or not, if I have weaknesses I’m not aware of, if there are things about me that make me difficult to work for.”

  Drew appeared to be giving the matter serious thought. Was he going to answer her honestly?

  And why did she suddenly need to know so badly, anyway?

  She had a feeling it was all a part of her crumbling sense of self. Some part of her was itching to smash that foundation all to bits and start over again.

  “Well,” he said, “if you want brutal honesty—”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I want.”

  “I’d have to say your weakness as a leader is that you’re…kind of cold. You’re not really approachable when you’re in uniform.”

  “I’m not?” she said dumbly, reeling at how honest he’d been. It was her own fault. She’d asked for it, now she had to sit here and take it. But damn, it hurt.

  “It’s like you separate everything that doesn’t relate to the Navy and don’t let it interfere with your duties. And you expect everyone else to do the same. Like you don’t think anyone should have human feelings or problems that get in the way of their work.”

  Oh. Well. That stung.

  “Don’t hold back,” she said sarcastically. “Go ahead with your laundry list of my faults.”

  He winced. “I’m sorry. Did I go too far?”

  “No. I asked for it.” She sighed. “But really? I’m cold and unfeeling? Difficult to approach?”

  “I could be misinterpreting things,” he offered, gesturing with his hands as if it wasn’t such a big deal.

  Yeah, too bad he hadn’t misinterpreted. His words hit home because, she feared, they were spot-on accurate.

  Damn it.

  “The thing is,” he added, “I saw a different side of you last night.”

  “That would be my drunken side.”

  “No, it wasn’t just the alcohol. You’re so much different when you’re not the one in charge.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? When I’m not trying to step out of my place and wear the pants—”

  “No. You’re just…a hell of a lot more likable and real when you’re off duty. That’s all.”

  “Oh.”

  Kylie’s gaze fell to her desk, and she found herself feeling truly sorry she’d initiated this discussion. She didn’t need to invite a career crisis into her life at the moment. Regardless, it seemed to be coming on in and making itself at home.

  “I’m sorry. I’d be happy to talk to you about it more when we’re not feeling so, um, strung out or whatever.”

  “No, thank you. I do appreciate your honesty.”

  She stared at him, waiting for him to go, but he just stood there, looking as though he had something on his mind.

  “Um, there’s another reason I came in here,” he finally said.

  “Yes?”

  “I was hoping you’d agree to have dinner with me. Maybe tonight or later this week. Anytime that works for you, I’ll make sure I’m free.”

  “Oh.” After the way things had ended earlier, and after his brutal honesty about how much she sucked as an officer, she definitely hadn’t expected to get asked out on a date. What was he thinking? They couldn’t go for dinner together. Not the two of them—commander and subordinate with one indiscretion between them already.

  “I think it would do us both some good to spend time talking. You know, to someone who truly understands, I mean.”

  Nice try. But they both knew his invitation had nothing to do with the shooting and everything to do with their activities on his lawn.

  “No,” she said. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Her tone implied she was done with the subject.

  Drew got the message, taking a step toward the door. Then he turned back and said, “See? That’s exactly what I mean. When you’ve got that uniform on, you act like you have no heart.”

  And with that, he walked out the door, leaving Kylie to mull over whether he was right, or being spiteful, or both.

  KYLIE MANAGED to stumble through the next two days of work without completely losing it. But she had a feeling people around her were beginning to notice that she was officially Not Okay.

  Like right now, for instance. She was supposed to be conducting the weekly staff meeting to go over the orders for everyone to take leave. Standing in front of what was left of her staff for the first time since the shooting, she was having a really hard time not bursting into tears.

  “Are you okay, Lieutenant Commander?” a male voice asked, but she didn’t know whose, because her vision was blurry. She sat down hard in the nearest chair.

  “Would you like someone else to lead the meeting?” another voice asked.

  This one she recognized as Drew’s. She looked up at him. They’d barely spoken since he’d asked her out for dinner. She’d been avoiding him at every turn. Maybe…not.

  Still the concern in his voice helped her regain a bit of her equilibrium. “No,” she said. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

  She looked around the table, and everyone appeared uncomfortable, as if they didn’t believe her. Or perhaps, they all thought their boss was a cold, icy bitch who couldn’t even admit when she had real human emotions.

  “This is difficult,” she forced herself to say in an effort to prove she had a human side. “It’s the first time we’ve assembled as a group here at the office since…last week. And I don’t want you to feel as if we’re to get back to business as usual, without my having any regard for the gravity of what we’ve been through.

  “In fact,” she went on, “I’ve been informed that you will be granted time for R & R, starting immediately. Those of you who have pending work issues that need to be addressed, you’re to hand over any necessary files to me, and I’ll delegate the work to others while you’re away.”

  She looked around the room at the solemn faces.

  Drew’s expression was inscrutable, but she had a feeling he wanted to say something to her. She rushed on to fill the silence before he had a chance.

  “If you have any further questions, I’ll be in my office, and you may speak to me there privately. For now, you’re all dismissed.”

  With that, she stood and left the room, her feet thankfully planting one in front of the other as they were supposed to. No sooner did she reach the safety of her own office than a male figure appeared at her door.

  It was Commander Mulvany, her direct supervisor, and a man she admired for his steadfast leadership skills. He’d been a role model to her for the past few years, and it pained her to have to face him now when she was barely holding herself together.

  “Lieutenant Commander, I need to speak with you in my office in five minutes,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Kylie answered, her stomach flip-flopping at his tone.

  Oh God, no more flip-flopping in that region. That sensation usually indicated her tenuous grasp on control was slipping. And she needed all the control she could muster to face her commander.

  Why couldn’t he speak to her in her own office? The discussion would be less intimidating for her here. But that was the point. Location was a power issue, she knew. The leader was always the one to sit in the comfortable chair behind the desk in his own office, while the subordinate hovered awkwardly on the guest side.

  When the requisite minutes had ticked by, Kylie stood and went to the adjacent building where Mulvany’s office was located. Once she was standing across from him he got straight to the point.

  “You’re no good to me like this,” Commander Mulvany said, his expression dead serious.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “You can’t keep trudging along like nothing is wrong. You look like you’re about to fall apart every time I see you. It’s not good for mora
le.”

  “But sir, I’m seeing the therapist, and I’m feeling better every day. I think showing up for work is helping me sort through things.”

  “Off the record, you’re screwing up, Thomas. You can’t lead in your current state.”

  Kylie felt as if he’d slid a knife between her ribs. She wanted to double over in pain or curl up on the sofa and cry her eyes out. Of course she didn’t dare. Instead she swallowed hard and said, “I’m sorry, sir. I admit I’ve been distracted by recent events, but I promise you I’ll be back to my old self right away.”

  “I don’t want your promises. I want you to take leave. You need R & R time to get over the incident, just like everyone else does.”

  “Sir, I respectfully disagree. I think I’ll go crazy if I don’t have any work to occupy me.”

  “I checked, and you’re at use-or-lose level on your accumulated leave. That means you haven’t been taking enough vacation, which is a problem under ideal conditions. These are hardly ideal conditions. So I’m going to help you with that problem.”

  Kylie didn’t want to be left alone with her maddening thoughts. She didn’t want to go on vacation. She didn’t want to appear weak and useless in the eyes of her superiors. How would she ever disprove them of that view if she wasn’t reporting for duty everyday?

  “Maybe if I take a three-day weekend—”

  “No. I want you off for a minimum of two weeks. Even a full month if you’d like. I don’t want you back here until you’re feeling like your old self again. And I mean it. Either you get better, or you don’t come back at all.”

  She frowned, trying to process what he was saying. It sounded like a threat.

  In fact, she was pretty sure it was a threat that she’d better shape up or her career was done.

  “You have to be a leader of the men and women in our unit, Lieutenant Commander. Since the shooting, you’ve displayed none of the qualities of a leader. It’s an understandable lapse given the circumstances, but the best thing you can do right now is to get out of here until you are ready to lead again.”