Peering down the hall, she saw everyone except Torres.
Tinker frowned and his smile slipped. “He’s not going with us.”
“Really? Where is he?”
Tinker reached out, tugging at a strand of her hair. “Wyatt wanted to see him.”
Swallowing hard, she said, “Oh, well . . . is he joining us over there afterward?”
Raising a brow, Tinker placed his hands on his narrow hips. “Doubt it. Wyatt called him in about five minutes ago and shut the door. You know what that means.”
“A woodshed moment.”
Grunting, he nodded and said, “Come on. We want you with us. Grab your stuff. Besides,” he said, looking down at Mazzie who was wagging her tail as she stood between them, “this pup is gonna want some leftovers, too. We don’t dare return here without them or she’ll bite us.” He chuckled.
Ali laughed and nodded. Mazzie hadn’t bitten anyone, but she did expect goodies from the chow hall. Heartened that the rest of team had truly embraced her as one of them, she said, “Okay . . . hold one sec!” and she turned, going to her bed to grab her black SEAL baseball cap, her holster and pistol. When she turned, she saw Manny, Chuck, Steve, Tinker, and Dan all waiting for her. They looked as tired as she felt. Hurrying out the door, she didn’t bother to lock it.
“Mount up,” Cousins ordered, heading for the door.
Ali fell in step at the end with Tinker. She kept her voice low. “Why was Torres called in?”
Cousin’s shrugged his broad shoulders. “Dunno. He didn’t do anything wrong out on that op. Must be something personal. Maybe with his family or something.”
She walked out the front door that Tinker held open for her, always the gentleman. “I didn’t know he had family,” she said to Cousins, who walked behind her.
Laughing sharply, Cousins said, “Torres never speaks of having one. He keeps telling us he came out of a test tube.”
“None of us knows anything about his background,” Tinker told her, walking quickly to join her.
Some days, Ali thought to herself, he’s the spawn of the Devil and wasn’t born, but created. She never said that to anyone in the team because she didn’t want to create dissension in the ranks. The guys, however, after these months, got it in spades that Torres was her enemy, not her friend like they were.
“I know he was born in Nogales, Arizona,” Chuck Cerney told her. “He got drunk one time over at the canteen, and mentioned it.”
“Do his parents live there?” she wondered.
“He never said and I didn’t ask,” Chuck told her.
“Heck,” she muttered, “it would be nice to know about his parents. I don’t even know if he has brothers or sisters.”
“Unlike you,” Tinker said, giving her a wink. “First thing you did upon joining us was show us photos of your mom and dad, and that drop-dead gorgeous sister of yours, Cara.”
“She’s not your type,” Ali deadpanned, grinning, watching a blush sweep up his cheeks.
“Well, she’s hot.”
“She’s going to the university right now to become a kindergarten teacher. Really, Tinker, she isn’t your speed at all. You gotta trust me on that.”
The rest of the team hooted, laughed, and slapped red-faced Tinker on the shoulders, giving him a hard time. They entered the chow hall laughing. He was well-liked by the older SEALs, who loved to razz him. Fortunately, Tinker took their joking in stride.
As they headed to the chow line, the guys pushed Ali in front of them, handing her an aluminum tray. As she scooped up large amounts of eggs, strips of bacon, and dollops of fruit, she thought about Ram. Why had Wyatt called him in there? What had happened?
*
Ali was the first to return from the chow hall. She was whipped and wanted to hit the sack and sleep. On the way in, she met Wyatt. “Hey, the rest of the guys are keeping a seat open for you over at the chow hall,” she told him.
He pulled his black baseball cap on. “Good to know.” He stopped her in the middle of the passageway, his voice low. “Hey, if you get a chance, you might go chat a little with Torres. I think he could use a friend about now.”
Searching Wyatt’s broad, tanned face, she muttered, “Me? He won’t talk to me and you know it. He does all the talking, especially about everything I do wrong.”
Shrugging, he said, “Well, this one’s a little different. Just go check it out, will you? If he gives you lot of shit, leave.”
“You going to tell me why?”
Wyatt gave her one eyebrow-raised look.
“Now, if I did that I’d be breaking privacy rules. You’re intuitive. You’ll have a wolf’s nose and I think you’ll put two and two together.”
“Okay . . . ” she grumbled, and slipped past him. In the TV room, there was a flea-bitten looking couch, a huge, large screen TV, and stuffed chairs that had seen better days. She heard the door close to the compound as Wyatt made his way to the chow hall.
She spotted Torres sitting glumly, one arm on the sofa’s ratty looking armrest, staring blankly at the TV. Mazzie was sitting in his lap and he was petting her. The volume was turned off, the silence deafening to her as she approached him.
“You okay, Torres?” Her throat tightened. She expected him to look up and glare at her.
Ram lifted his head, blinking once. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Well, that was standard, Ali noted. She sat down at the other end of the couch, leaning back. “You okay?” Not about to mix it up with his growly question, she saw his green eyes narrow on her. Her normal return would be to tell him to go fuck himself and walk out, leaving him alone. But no, she had sat down. That was why she saw surprise flare in his eyes for a moment. “You don’t look good,” she pressed.
He grimaced and broke off his gaze with hers. “I’m just tired,” he muttered defiantly, making an effort to ignore her. He petted Mazzie more.
“It was a long op,” she agreed quietly, taking the brittleness out of her tone. She wondered if he was nervous because he was petting the puppy a lot more since she’d entered the room. Something was bothering him. She’d not seen him this available, his normal game face nowhere to be found. He rubbed his bearded jaw, staring once more at the TV. “So? What’s wrong? You don’t look well.” This was the most she’d goaded him since coming to the team. Expecting him to flare up at her, she felt the tension gather within her.
He turned to look at her with a flicker of irritation. “Why the hell should you care?”
Feeling as if he’d physically slapped her, she replied, “Stay here. I’m going to get something I want to share with you.” She stood up, seeing surprise leap to his eyes. This was a side he’d not seen of her before—taking charge. Turning, she said, “Don’t move, Torres,” and walked away, heading for her room.
Hurrying back, she saw him give her a disgruntled look.
“What’s in your hand?”
She sat down on the sofa about two feet from him. Ali knew she was risking everything. She’d never done this before with him. He was like a growly old wounded bear and she tried to gird herself internally for him to lash out at her with his tongue. “I wanted to show you something. This is a photo of my mom, dad, and my younger sister, Cara.” She lifted the color photo, holding it up in his direction.
Torres stared at it. “So?”
Placing the photo in her lap, her hands over it in an almost protective gesture, Ali said, “So, I wanted to show you something that means a lot to me.”
He snorted and shook his head. “Family? It might mean something to you, but it sure as hell doesn’t to me.”
Her gut grew icy, and she understood that his reaction was showing her where he had an issue. “Everyone saw Wyatt call you into his office. We’re all concerned.”
“What? The guys sent you here to squeeze it out of me?”
She hated his defensiveness. “No,” she answered calmly, “we were all worried about you, Ram.” Purposely using his first name, she saw his fac
e grow softer for a moment. His mouth was pursed, as if he was holding back a lot of emotions he wasn’t about to share with anyone. His hand stilled over Mazzie, who licked it.
“Go away.”
“No.”
He gave her a dark look. “When did you get like this?”
She grinned. “Oh, you don’t know me at all. You think you do, but you don’t.”
“Just go away.”
She got up and went to the corner of the couch and sat back down. “I wonder,” she said, “if you were born or if someone found you under a rock one day.”
Ram’s mouth relaxed. “That’s funny.”
Ali felt not only relief, but triumph. It was the first time he’d even granted part of a smile toward her. “Look,” she whispered, opening her hands toward him, “we all care about you, Ram. I know you don’t like me and I can live with that, but I don’t dislike you. Even the guys could see something was wrong and they care.”
Wincing, Ram stared at her. “Care? Coming from a woman? That’s a joke!”
She felt as if he’d slapped her again, the words ground out, filled with derision and anger. Now, she understood this really wasn’t about her. Rapidly putting the pieces together in her mind, she asked, “Did you get news about your family?” and held his gaze.
“Do you read minds, Montero?” he snapped.
She laughed a little. “No. Why?”
“Then you’re damned good at assessing people. Like a shrink.”
“I’m a sniper. I’m trained to put small pieces of something together, like a jigsaw puzzle, and see the overall pattern. But I’m no mind reader.” She felt an ache in her heart and understood it was for Ram Torres. He was hurting badly, no matter how much he was trying to hide it from her. His usual snarling at her wasn’t chasing her away either. Well, he was going to find out she wasn’t a quitter and he couldn’t scare her away. “Do you want me to guess?”
“Did Lockwood put you up to this?”
“No,” she lied. “We’re a team and we take care of one another, whether you like it or not. The guys did talk among themselves at the chow hall as to who should approach you. I just happened to leave the chow hall first. I said I’d look in on you.” That wasn’t a lie. She just wasn’t going to drag Wyatt into it because she knew Ram would use him as a scapegoat. He was sitting tensely now, one hand curled into a fist against his thigh. Fighting. He was battling his own emotional reaction to her goading him, trying to pull out what was wrong. There was defeat in his eyes and his voice had become less and less growly, as if he were really emotionally tired.
“You aren’t going to leave me alone, are you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Muttering a curse, he looked away for a moment. His voice softened. “Just tell the guys that my parent was in a car wreck. Wyatt called me to tell me that. He asked if I wanted to fly home to be with him. My father is in the hospital in poor condition.” His eyes grew stormy. “I told him no, I don’t want to go home. He’s had cancer the last year. He’s not long for this world.”
Now it was her turn to stare at him. “Oh,” she managed in a choked tone, “I’m so sorry to hear that.” The utter fatigue settled in on his expression and she felt as if all his ire had dissolved, leaving him hurting and vulnerable to her.
Shrugging, he growled, “That bastard can rot in hell. Last time I saw him was when I was eighteen and leaving for the Navy. I don’t ever want to see him again.”
Ali sat there, running through all the possible things she could say to him. “I’m sorry, Ram. You’re a good person. And the guys respect you so much.” She saw him straighten a little, saw her words healing some of his wounds. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”
He heaved a sigh, giving her a pleading look. “You can tell them. I just don’t want to do it. I don’t want anyone else coming up and asking me about it, either. It’s a closed chapter in my life. I don’t ever want to go back there again. Can you take that message to them? I just want to pretend this didn’t happen and get on with what I do here in the team. That’s all.”
“Of course, I’ll tell them.” She saw the wound now in his murky-looking eyes, saw it in the way his mouth compressed. Mazzie whined and licked his hand, as if sensing his defeat and grief. “Is there anything I can do for you?” She sought out his gaze, which was filled with so many feelings she couldn’t begin to sort them out.
“You’ve done enough,” he said, adding quietly, “thanks.”
“Okay,” she said, slowly rising, her family photo in her hand, “I’ll let the guys know and I’m sure they’ll respect your request.” She moved quietly out of the TV room, and down the passageway to her own room. Once there, she put her family photo on the top crate. She felt gut-punched by their encounter. At least Ram had Mazzie and she was giving him comfort—that was good. He wasn’t going to let any human, no matter who they were, get very close to him. He was terribly wounded.
Leaving the compound, she met the guys coming back from the chow hall. They stood in a circle around her, brows furrowed, worry and sadness in their expressions as Ali gave them, verbatim, what Ram had requested of them.
Cousins shook his head. “Dude, that is a bad situation Torres is in.”
“Yeah,” Tinker sighed. He gave Ali a searching look. “We won’t bother him. You’re looking beat, Ali. Why don’t you walk with us and then hit the sack?”
“I will,” she promised, falling into step with them. She felt like all the SEALs wanted to do something—anything—to help Ram with this devastating news. “You know,” she told them, “Mazzie is with Ram. That little dog helps him and I think that’s about all any of us can do.”
“Mazzie loves Torres,” Cousins agreed. “I guess the dog is the only one he’ll let close to him. But at least it’s someone, even if it is on four-legs.”
“Mazzie was upset,” Ali said, slowing as they came to the main door of their compound. “She was licking his hand, whining sometimes, so I know she felt Ram’s emotions.”
Tinker opened the door after punching in the security code, gesturing for Ali to go in first. She thanked him, stepping into the passageway.
“I’ll see you guys later,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m hitting the sack.”
Closing the door to her room, she stared at her family photo on a board held up by two wooden boxes. Staring down at them, the ache in her heart widened for Ram. He’d tried so desperately to act as if he didn’t care about his father’s condition, but at that moment, she visualized a six-year-old little boy, eyes filled with fear, wanting to run and hide. Ali had no idea where that vision had come from, but he was acting like a small child, not a mature man with her earlier.
Sitting on the edge of her creaky bunk, she pulled off her boots, setting them aside. She always slept with her clothes on in case of a mortar attack. She longed to wear a soft cotton nightgown, but Ali knew that wasn’t the uniform of the day out in J-bad—not even close.
She sat on the bunk, staring at her closed door, feeling so badly for Ram. She sensed he wanted to say more, but was censoring himself. His walls were up and he wouldn’t let her in. Anyone would be growly if his parent were in a serious car wreck. Yet, he’d said he had last seen his father at age eighteen. She knew he was twenty-five—or so Tinker had told her once.
She couldn’t imagine not seeing her loving parents ever again. And that brought her to the realization that Ram had had a pretty awful childhood. Now, she began to put together the disparate pieces that the other guys had told her about him. She had questions about his mother.
Most of all, she wondered how she configured into his reality? He treated everyone else with deference, respect, and was one of the guys. With her, all bets were off. She wondered why Wyatt had buttonholed her. For whatever reason, Ram wasn’t his usual nasty self with her this time and God knew, she’d been pushy and hadn’t backed off from him. She had held her ground with him, no matter how many withering looks he shot her
way. He seemed surprised by it and disbelieving when she’d said she cared about him.
She guessed he didn’t understand compassion, which her parents had taught her and Cara. They believed in being kind toward others and in not judging them, but helping out in any way they could.
Ram looked like she’d thrown a right hook to his jaw when she’d asked if there was anything she could do for him—it was a lot more than just surprise.
Rubbing her face tiredly, she pulled down the sheet and lay down, stretching out on her bed. Okay, so she knew that for at least two deployments, she was going to be on Wyatt’s team. This was her first one, with one more to go. That was two years of her life tied up with this SEAL team in the sandbox. What made it tolerable was that Ram, while still surly, had begun to open up to her today. He’d cracked the door just a smidgeon on himself with her. Maybe Wyatt’s initial talk with him was working after all.
It also made sense to Ali that if Ram’s father had cancer, the last six months that she’d come into the team, he had been wrestling with that. Maybe that explained a lot of his ire toward her? She had no real answers. At least, not yet—and probably, never.
As she dropped off into a deep, deep slumber, her last thoughts were that Ram was probably a good man who’d had a terrible beginning in life. And if that were true, he had overcome those obstacles and become the best SEAL shooter in the team.
She was beginning to see that he wasn’t the monster she’d initially thought he was as, little by little, he opened up to her. If it continued, she’d be able to look forward to the next two years. She really loved these guys, and as for Ram—maybe somewhere down the line, they’d share something special, too. Anything was possible, but she had no idea what the future would hold for her—or him.
CHAPTER 9
“GET THAT BITCH!” screamed Emilio Azarola, waving his Glock 18 in her direction.
Ali Montero spun around on her combat boots, grinning like the jaguar she was. Gripping the M4 in her gloved hand, she sped off into the woods of Mexico’s Sierra Madre Mountains. That bastard Azarola, drug kingpin of the state of Sonora, had met his match today! She’d ambushed a four-vehicle convoy and taken out three of them with her RPG launcher. Millions of dollars of drugs just went up in those explosions.
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