Code Name_War 0f Stones

by Natasza Waters

  “Our place, then.”

  “My place. Not ours.”

  “I live here,” Morgan whined, still not wanting to let go of the easy ride he’d found by hooking up with Kels.

  Not that Adam had spent much time searching her apartment, but the guy’s clothes weren’t hanging in her closet. “Sorry, friend. Think it’s time you go back to the park or wherever you came from. Kels isn’t your meal ticket to plucking your guitar and sleeping in late. Get the fuck out before you end up limping out of here, or worse—getting a free ride in an ambulance.”

  Douchebag saw he wasn’t kidding and backed up a pace. “We’ll talk, Kels.”

  Confused, she stepped from Adam’s embrace and looked between him and Morgan. “You just caught me making love to another man and you say, we’ll talk?”

  “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “Have—have you made a mistake? Are you saying you’ve been unfaithful to me?”

  Morgan couldn’t look Kels in the eyes. “I get it. It happens.”

  She swept the trailing ends of the sheet into a bundle in her arms. “Does it?”

  At least Morgan showed some feelings for her when his anger ramped up. “You’re standing in the middle of your bedroom after fucking this guy. I guess so.”

  Kels cocked her head and then turned to Adam, appearing unsure of what the hell was happening, but he knew exactly what the hell was going on and wanted her to figure it out.

  “If you loved me, you’d be outraged. Or should be,” she said.

  “We’ve got a good thing going on. I’m not going to let this guy ruin it because he caught you in a weak moment.”

  “What?” She sputtered, shaking her head.

  Morgan’s attempt at a smile failed miserably. “We’ll work it out.”

  “No, I don’t think we will. Get your toothbrush, leave the key on the counter and get the fuck out.”

  Douchebag slammed the front door, exiting the condo like a kid having a tantrum.

  Kels shook her head and wandered into the living room in a daze. “What just happened?” she asked when he followed her after quickly pulling on his jeans. “I can’t believe it. I thought I knew him.”

  Adam leaned against the living room wall. “Don’t know, but maybe, just maybe, you let him into your life for the same reasons I slept with a boatload of women I didn’t care about. I was trying my damnedest to forget about you. For a while, I convinced myself we had a one-night stand we’d take to the grave.”

  Kels beautiful eyes widened, but she wasn’t ready to admit anything yet. Although she’d succumbed to her passion, her fears weren’t ready to give up the fight.

  He strode toward the only woman he’d ever truly desired. “When I saw you again last week, I knew I’d been lying to myself.”

  Her brow furrowed at the same time her voice choked with a hitch. “Get out!”

  She was so beautiful, even when angry, but her anxiety hid behind her harsh words. The deeper issue. The one she couldn’t let go of.

  “You sweep into town for a week. Upset my life, and then get on a plane next Saturday and leave. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Adam swallowed thickly. This wasn’t going down like he expected. “Kels, you needed to see who that guy really was.”

  “Did you seduce me with the purpose of ruining my life?” With one hand, she swept her hair up in a messy bundle, her upper arm muscle flexed tight.

  The thin sheet gripped to cover her body didn’t hide her full breasts or the curves he’d never tire of touching. Kels was solid ground. Any place she was, it felt like home.

  Adam edged a little closer. “I’m not going to bother answering that because you know it isn’t true. Take the first step with me. Stop making excuses and let’s get something to eat.”

  He wanted to say, let’s get on with forever, but she’d probably throw something at him.

  Somewhere in the middle of the living room a pile of ashes formed when her silver gaze met his blue one, torching their future before giving him a chance to prove to her that they could have a life together.

  He took another tentative step. Her anger still at a simmer, he wasn’t about to do himself any favors when he said, “But I do want to come clean on one thing.”

  “What?” she hissed.

  “I was the one who took Mr. Bugsy.”

  Her mouth dropped open in shock. “You asshole! I looked everywhere for Mr. Bugsy.”

  Adam squinted. “I know, but I was seven-years-old, Kels. I buried him in our backyard.”

  With an aggressive jerk, she pointed her finger at him. “I knew it was you. He was my favorite stuffed bunny.”

  “Will you forgive me?”

  “No!”

  He waited, and waited a little more, until her mouth twitched and thinned into an impish smile she couldn’t restrain.

  “Go find your sister.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t back down from a fight, Kels. You know that.” The smile on her face was replaced with an expression he didn’t want to see. It resembled something too close to a sweet, but certain, goodbye.

  She inhaled a deep stuttering breath. “You launched yourself into my life, saved me from a huge mistake, and now you’ll disappear.”

  “No.” He shook his head while she slowly nodded hers. “Dammit woman, don’t you fucking send me away again. It’s time we leave our childhood in our parents’ photo albums and build on what we started a year ago as adults. Your fears of me being a Special Warfare operator aren’t a joke. I understand, but I’m not going to let you run and hide.” He held out his hands, hoping she’d come to him. “Kels, I didn’t come here for a roll in the sheets and a hasty goodbye.”

  She strode across the plush carpet to stand in front of him. “You’ll find someone in Virginia to love.” Tears filled her eyes. “I know you will.”

  “I can’t do that.” Hard to speak when a cannonball of pain shot through his chest.

  “We’ve known each other all our lives. It’s too close, almost like—”

  He gripped her hip. “Don’t say it. Our families will always be close, but we’re not related.”

  “History will repeat itself,” she whispered.

  “No.” He swept a curl of soft hair from her cheek. “It won’t.” He watched the tears stream down her face. “Jesus, I hate it when you cry. Can’t you find just a little faith in me?”

  “I have faith. We’ll be happy. But not together. I can’t.” She sniffed and wiped her cheeks. “You don’t know what it’s like. I do.”

  His heart hurt for her loss. Growing up with nothing but memories of Uncle Patrick that became more distant in her mind as the years passed. His dad had always been there for her, treating Kelsey like his own daughter. When she’d been stung by a wasp, Dad had cradled her until she stopped crying. During her school concerts, his father was there and clapped louder than all the fathers. They’d all been there, but Adam had always known in the corner of her heart there lived an unbearable sadness. Wishing her own father was in the audience sitting beside her mom instead of his dad.

  He jerked his head in a sharp nod, unable to say anything that would heal the loss she’d always carry. Without argument, he returned to the bedroom to gather his clothes. Buttoning his shirt closed, he wandered to the front door where she waited with her hand on the nob. He’d never before left a woman’s bed with a sour lump in his chest. Only Kelsey could make him feel this way.

  Her long lashes wet with tears and her eyes glistening, she said, “Please, be careful.”

  Adam palmed the back of her neck and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Not in my job description, sweetheart. Whenever I’m in a bad place, I’ll remember today.” His heart beat too fast in his chest. He had to leave, but not before telling her what he felt. What he’d always felt. “Dad told me when he’d fallen in love with Mom, he didn’t want to leave her, but his team had been tasked on a mission. Before getting on the plane, he told her she was his compass. His way
home would always point toward her.” Adam kept talking though the tears rained down Kelsey’s cheeks. He palmed her face and brushed them away with his thumbs. “You give me a reason to come home, because I love you.”

  She stared up at him, her eyes huge and sad.

  Their lips met in a kiss he’d hang onto until the next time. And there would be a next time. And another after that, until she finally understood. He just hoped like hell he’d be alive to prove her wrong. Not all SEALs ended up at the foot of a headstone.

  “I wouldn’t blame you for hating me,” she said, staring at the carpet.

  “I could never hate the woman who’ll be my wife one day.”

  With one last kiss on Kel’s pillowy lips, Adam turned and walked away without looking back. He couldn’t, not without risking everything he’d worked so hard for to become a SEAL.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “General Northcott, sir!”

  “Enter,” he responded.

  The canvas door swept aside and a Marine, one of the few he’d handpicked, stepped into his tent. Looking up from the topographical map of Palomar Mountain, his playground for Operation Skirt’s Down, the real name of this exercise, Northcott adjusted his girth in the folding chair. The interruption by the Marine had better yield some worthy information. Prior to choosing the Guinea pigs from Coronado, he had zero doubt of failure. Maybe he’d underestimated the Squids, considering the rising body count.

  The Jarhead earned his name standing stiff as a board near the entrance to the tent, waiting for his attention. “Marine, either give me a report on the missing couples or get the hell out and find one.”

  “Yes, sir. As you asked, we searched the west and south quadrants of the mountain. SEALS Stone, Randeen, Winston, and Cocks are still unaccounted for.

  “And his partner, Ensign Beaver?” Cocks and Beaver. He almost snorted, but there was nothing funny about their disappearance.

  “We assume they’re still out there.”

  “You assume?” Northcott unscrewed the lid of the green thermos sitting next to the map and refilled his metal cup with coffee. If the Marine wasn’t taking up space in his tent, he’d top it up from the whiskey bottle in his briefcase.

  “Yes, sir. If one of the couples made it back to town, I believe we’d have a JAG committee arriving in record time to investigate.”

  “No one is going to interfere in this exercise. I have carte blanche. The only women on the front lines of warfare should be the one’s stitching up our boys in the FOB hospitals. I’m not the only senior officer who shares that opinion.” When the Marine didn’t comment, Warren turned his chair toward the entrance of the tent and stretched out his aching legs. “What of Lieutenant Damon Stone and the little bitch on his coat tails?”

  The Marine wouldn’t look him in the eyes when he said, “We sent out a squad of eight men—”

  “Eight men,” he interrupted. “You think it will take eight men to bring down that Squid? The SEALs have built a reputation on bullshit and training. Stone is like any other man.”

  With a quick shake of his head, the Marine finally made eye contact. Impudence radiated in his glare but never reached his tongue. “I know the Lieutenant. If you’d allow me, sir. He’s not to be underestimated.”

  Warren sipped his scalding hot coffee. “Sailors don’t have the grit a soldier is reared on. Those SEALs are bullet sponges just like any other man. I want him found and that woman, Austen, he’s protecting.”

  “Sir, I think you need to shut down this exercise and report the deaths of Thompson, Barnette and Swanson, including their partners, immediately. There will be questions as to why you waited.”

  There were always questions, but none that he couldn’t answer or defer. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d pulled a shade of bullshit over the truth. Warren slid a cigar from his right chest pocket and dug in his camo pants for the lighter. Flicking open the thin metal lid on the refillable relic from his father’s days in the military, he held the flame to the tip of the stogie and puffed the tobacco to a sizzling ember, then inhaled the smoke.

  “Son,”—he exhaled the blue haze into the dim light of the tent. The hit of nicotine eased his addiction—“I don’t answer to anyone. Find Stone and Austen. They’re going to snap the lid shut on my case. When they fail, the rest of the Squids will crumble.”

  “Sir, you may have a green light to do as you see fit, but those were Americans.”

  “The participants’ deaths were unfortunate, but my men were protecting themselves when the SEALs lost control over the SC exercise. Although I appreciate your concern, Marine, we carry on with the mission. When Operation Skirt’s Down is summarized, my findings will prove women should be pulled from Special Ops combat. The men fighting to preserve this country’s strength as the greatest military force on the planet will thank me. Politicians and women’s rights movements can place their weak arguments next to my truth on the congressional table. The life of a warrior is worth more than the rights of a group of yowling girls pushing baby carriages.”

  “Sir, what if someone reaches San Diego before the end of the exercise?”

  He rolled his shoulder to loosen the ache from a thirty-five-year old wound troubling him that he’d earned from a couple bullets during a fire fight in a Syrian village. Another lucky shot from the insurgents had torn through his body a couple inches above his heart. Ironic that the sniper had been a woman. She’d almost ended his life that day, but Warren had what a woman doesn’t—a will stronger than titanium.

  “They won’t.” He surmised a warrior like Stone would return for his men.

  Wasn’t that the motto for every service member in the United States, Never leave a man behind? In this case, it would work to Warren’s advantage. The Squid lieutenant would return, and that loud-mouthed brat attached to his hip would probably refuse to ring the bell or pull herself from the exercise. Warren could then prove without a doubt that a man cannot work beside a woman without crumbling.

  He smiled, knowing what he had in store for the remainder of the exercise. Stone wouldn’t be able to endure what he had planned for Seaman Austen. The SEAL would force her hand, make her fall out.

  For a moment, he’d forgotten about the Marine, then blinked. “Find them. Dismissed.”

  The Marine saluted and backed out of the tent.

  Warren gripped the worn handle of the briefcase sitting next to his leg and lifted it to the table. Unsnapping both locks, he retrieved the micky of whiskey and added a healthy pour to his cup. With the briefcase settled on the ground again, he gazed across the map. The contour lines defined elevation. Showed him the natural and man-made features. He sipped thoughtfully. The maze of trails and gravel roads criss-crossing the mountain offered too many options to the Squids. Warren had to work with the number of soldiers he’d been given. If he asked for more, he’d draw attention to the operation before it was completed. The SEALs prime objective would be to get the women to safety. A step closer to proving his main objective. Whether the Squids voiced it or not, if asked, they would agree with him. Women did not belong in warfare.

  Prior to choosing the male participants for Operation Skirt’s Down, he’d read many personnel files. Stone stood out from the other elite Squids. The perfect man to crush under his boot. From the list of medals a service member could achieve through sacrifice and bravery, Stone had achieved almost all of them. Two Silver Stars. Three Navy Crosses. Even the Medal of Honor for his valor in Masyaf during the infamous battle in 2035. It was bloody and drew the media’s attention. Lieutenant Stone had walked from the ashes like a Phoenix rising. He saved ten of his team members and twenty villagers using true grit and one weapon to hold off the enemy. Stone’s will to survive had become legendary within the Navy community.

  During the exercise debrief, it had been Stone who stood up to him while the others listened without remark. Warren looked forward to bringing the egomaniac to his knees. Once he had Stone and Austen under his control, he’d crush the SEAL�
�s inflated infamy and enjoy doing it.

  The fucking audacity of that little bitch, Austen, was clear in her hostile eyes. Her stance, the curt responses, all colored with insubordination. The only good sense she possessed was the ability to see she wasn’t a soldier. Worthy of pushing a sailor’s paperwork at Coronado, but probably little more than a whore who opened her legs to the men on the base.

  Once the couples had scattered at the start of the exercise, Admiral Paulson had pulled him aside to warn him. Sloane Austen was the daughter of an Admiral Austen. What Paulson didn’t understand is that’s what made this exercise even more worthwhile. Austen had been the man responsible for bringing his uncle, General Caufield, to justice for selling viruses to an Afghan terrorist. His uncle spent the rest of his life in a military prison, convicted of treason. He died two years ago of a heart attack in a cement cell with little else than a cot and a wool blanket. Revenge may not always be swift, but Sloane Austen would pay the price for his uncle’s years of suffering.

  Warren smiled. Karma had a way of making things right. Her penance would be sweet for him, but very bitter for the Admiral. Especially, if she died—accidentally, of course.

  * * * *

  Dim light filtered through the trees with night approaching. The ground wasn’t as dry at the higher altitude, but Sloane’s feet hurt like hell and her thighs burned from the incline they’d been climbing since leaving Green and the kid on the ridge.

  She leaned over, gripping her thighs. Grimacing from the pain, she closed her eyes. A rustle of bushes signaled Damon had turned back. Before she opened her eyes, her feet left the ground and he swept her into his arms.

  “If you’re in pain, then say you’re in pain.”

  He continued to walk the trail with her extra burden in his muscular arms. “I just need a second, and I can keep going.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  “Where?”

  “The rancher’s son had a GPS in his pocket. I’m following the track back to his camp.”

  No sooner Damon had said that, he pushed through the limbs of a pine tree…and stopped. A black Ford truck and twenty-foot pull trailer sat in the middle of a small clearing.