Down and Dirty: SEAL EXtreme Team Short Story

by Kimberley Troutte

  “I’d like that.”

  “Running’s my favorite, though. God, I love to run! It’s so freeing. Maybe we can work out together. I need someone to run with to get my mile-splits up. Billy was too slow.”

  “And he cheated.”

  “Yeah. He did.” She let out half a chuckle and then fell quiet.

  Nick wrapped his arms around her and gave her a squeeze. “Nothing can stop you from success. Don’t give up. No matter what people tell you. Don’t stop.”

  “Okay…” Her forehead crinkled in confusion. “I don’t know what Billy told you about me, but I’m not a quitter.”

  “I know.” But she was about to be faced with a new reality.

  “Miss Connors? May I have a word with you?” The doctor stood at the foot of her bed, clipboard in hand. His face was grave.

  Truth time. Dammit! Nick would do anything to stay right here and shield her from what was to come. But she’d figure it out on her own soon enough.

  “I’ll be right outside the door if you need me,” Nick said.

  “No. Don’t go.” She reached for him.

  His instincts were to stick close and deflect as much pain as possible. But he couldn’t stay. She may not want him to witness her world exploding. She’d need time. “You’re tough, sweetheart. Don’t forget it.”

  Her strength was what had attracted him in the first place. Jill was bad-ass. When they’d had downtime, he'd sat with Billy in their quarters and viewed her competitions online. He’d also studied her when he was alone. Jill captivated him. Hunger, aggression, and fearlessness radiated from the woman. She'd been breathtaking.

  Stroke after stroke, her sleek body had moved through the waves better than most SEALs. Her bike-handling skills were impressive, especially on the downhill curves. But when she ran? It had been hard to peel his eyes away from the computer. He ran because he was ordered to do it. Jill ran for pure unadulterated joy. It was sexy as hell and made him hard every time she picked up those tanned knees and flew. He'd stayed up many nights thinking about the way her sweet body moved.

  Would she ever run like that again?

  It was a long, hard walk out of her room. Everything in him wanted to turn around, snatch her up, and take her away. He barely made it to the hallway when she started screaming.

  ****

  Nick ran into the room, passing the nurse and doctor who suddenly had better places to be.

  “Damn you, Nick. You knew!” She reached for the pitcher, determined to throw it at his head, but she was too shaky and it tipped off the table instead. He moved quickly and caught it before it hit the floor. Water sloshed out all over his fancy uniform. Too bad. He deserved worse.

  “Yes. I knew.” He put the pitcher back on the nightstand.

  “You let me talk about the Ironman.” She heaved to catch a breath. “My, my dreams. I thought you’d run with me. That’s over now. My life is over.”

  He crossed his arms over that impressive chest of his. “Aren’t you being a little melodramatic? Life isn’t over. It’s just different now.”

  “My life will be more than different. I’m a runner. With one foot. How’s that going to work?”

  He ran his hand over his short hair. “It’ll take a little effort, learning new skills and techniques, but it’s not impossible.”

  “How would you know? You have two feet!” She fumed, wanting to lash out at the world, and Nick was the only one around.

  But he wouldn’t stay for long. He was there out of duty or some misplaced heroism, but tomorrow he’d be gone. Maybe it was better if she scared him away right now and put an end to this relationship before it was too late. Before she couldn’t let him go.

  “You should go, Nick.”

  Instead of leaving, he sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed her shoulder. She hated herself for leaning into that hand, relishing his touch.

  “Listen to me, sweetheart. I know guys who’ve screwed up their legs, feet, or even arms during battle. They get prosthetics and return to duty. Their lives aren’t over. Yours isn’t, either. Change your attitude and start dreaming for next year’s Ironman.”

  Her lip quivered. “It’s impossible.”

  “Anything’s possible if you believe it. I know you can do it, Jill. You Connors are tough. I’ll help any way I can.”

  But he was wrong. She wasn’t tough enough, and she didn’t need him hanging around feeling sorry for the poor crippled girl. She shook her head. “You should leave now.”

  He exhaled. “All right. I’ll come tomorrow to check in on you.”

  She should’ve told him to stay away forever, but she was weak and alone. Nick was the only person who seemed to care about her, even if it was a pity call. How could he possibly be attracted to her now?

  “Give me a couple of days to process. Figure things out. If you don’t come back, I’ll understand.”

  “I’ll be back.” He put his hat on.

  She blinked tears as she watched him walk out her door. He wasn’t coming back. Why should he? It wasn’t like they were a couple or anything. He wasn’t obligated to stick around. Sure, she’d had high hopes they would be the real thing once he finished his tour of duty. Super high hopes.

  She’d never met anyone like Nick. So strong, capable, and funny. He seemed to be attracted to her too. Somehow he’d always found a way to show up when she’d Skyped with Billy.

  It didn’t get past her brother that she was Skyping with him more often than usual. They’d gone from talking once a week to three and four times a week. “Come on, sis. Skype him already. You two are perfect for each other. Both as stubborn as hell.”

  “Who?” She had played coy, but her pulse thundered in her ears.

  “Who?” He’d snorted. “The guy you make foreplay faces at right in front of me. It’s revolting. Do it so I don’t have to watch you two Skype-sexing.” He shivered in mock disgust.

  She’d scraped up her courage and clicked Nick’s user name. When his handsome face popped up on her monitor, her heart did a happy dance.

  “Jill!” He ran his hand over his hair as if he could comb out the short cut. “What a surprise. Should I get Billy?”

  “No. I want you.” Oops, did she say that out loud?

  He grinned. “Cool. I saw you took second in your age group in the Ironman Florida. Congratulations.”

  He followed her races? “Thanks.” She took a deep breath. “Listen, Nick, um, I heard you’re going to have time off in a few months.”

  He shifted his weight and came closer to the screen. “I can neither confirm nor deny my schedule, but it’s possible. Why?”

  She swallowed hard. “It’s just, I mean, I’ve been thinking about you. A lot. Really, really a lot. What are you going to do with all that time off?”

  He crossed his arms. Wow, he had big guns, even bigger than Billy’s enormous biceps. “You asking me out, sweetheart? As in a date?”

  She lifted her chin. “What would you say if I was?”

  “I’d say, hell, yes! I’ve been thinking about you a lot too.”

  She couldn’t stop smiling. “So… You’ll call me when you get home?”

  “I’ll call you before then.”

  “When?”

  “How about in an hour?”

  She leaned back in her desk chair and hitched an eyebrow. “That long?”

  He laughed. If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never forget that deep, rolling sound. “Ten minutes?”

  “Why do we have to hang up?”

  “I like the way you think, sweetheart. But you have to train, and I have to do…stuff.”

  “Navy SEAL stuff you can’t confirm or deny.”

  “Exactly.”

  They’d talked for two hours that night and nearly every night after that. Billy complained that he’d lost his sister to the ugliest guy on the SEAL team, but he said it with a smile. For months Jill longed for the moment when she’d wrap her arms around both of her favorite SEALs and maybe, just maybe, keep them ho
me for good.

  But that all ended the day a buried IED killed Billy. She’d never hold him again and soon Nick would be gone too.

  ****

  Three days later, Jill was in a private room sitting up in bed and staring out the window. It was sunny and seventy-five degrees outside, complete with cottony white clouds and a teasing breeze. A perfect day for a run or long-distance bike ride. But, oh yeah, she was a cripple. She slammed her fist against the hospital’s mattress.

  The doctor had said someone would talk to her about a prosthetic. He’d claimed she’d be practicing with a temporary artificial foot in a couple of weeks. There were about fifty models to choose from, depending on her lifestyle. They had great prosthetics for swimming and running. There was no reason why she couldn’t keep on doing the things she normally did.

  Whatever.

  She might learn to gimp along on a fake foot, but she’d never run the Ironman with the damned thing. She’d seen athletes do remarkable things with prosthetics, but she doubted she’d ever be a top athlete again. She didn’t have it in her. The will to run was gone. What was she going to do? Running was her passion. Her life. It was the one thing she could control when Mom and Dad died. And now that Billy was gone, running had left her too? She turned her head away from the window.

  “Knock, knock.” Nick filled her doorway.

  “Nick! You came back.”

  “Of course I did.”

  Holy cow, she didn’t realize how tall he was until he ducked under the doorframe. Even in regular clothes he was an extraordinary sight. A forest green T-shirt nicely hugged his pecs and abs. Those faded blue jeans fit perfectly over…other things. Her heart beat a little faster.

  “Come in, handsome.” She was ridiculously happy to see him.

  His grin warmed her cheeks. “You look fantastic. I brought you something.” He kept his eyes locked on hers as he handed her a wrapped box.

  “What’s this?”

  “Inspiration. Open it.”

  “Can you help me over to the chair so I can sit up properly? I’m sick of this bed.”

  “Sure.” He scooped her up in his arms.

  Whoa. She meant for him to help her hop to the recliner. But this was nice and…strange. Normally, she preferred doing things for herself. She didn’t lean on anyone. Still, this wasn’t half bad. Clutching the box in one hand, she wrapped her other arm around his neck and held on.

  She was grateful she’d had the forethought to change out of the butt-ugly hospital gown and into her cotton hot-pink nightgown. It was scoop necked, clung to her in all the right places, and was long enough to cover most of her stump. Plus, it didn’t have the ever-present draft on the backside.

  He gently placed her in the recliner and popped out the leg rest for her. “You okay? Can I bring you a blanket?”

  Casting a quick glance toward her stump, she nodded. She didn’t want to see the thing. He bounded over and pulled the blanket off the bed.

  He tucked the blanket around her. “Open your present.”

  “It’s not my birthday.” She pulled the ribbon off and tore the flowered paper. Inside the box was a pair of shoes with electric-blue racing stripes. She exhaled. “Running shoes?”

  He must have heard the frustration in her voice. Crossing his tanned, muscular arms, he said, “Damned straight. You’re going to need them for all the training I’ve planned for you. See the flier in the bottom of the box?”

  Pulling out the paper she read, “Warrior Mud Run. Test your ability to run, crawl, jump, climb…” She looked up. “Is this a joke?”

  “No. It’s an obstacle course. Only 5K. Trust me, we can do this.”

  “I’m not doing a mud run.”

  “It’s no Ironman, but it could be fun. You don’t have to be fast, hell, you can walk the whole damned thing, but it’ll be a way to test yourself. Give you a goal to train for. And it’s a good way to get back into the competition mode again. The big upside is we can do it together. Want to get dirty with me, Connor?” He wiggled his dark eyebrows.

  That would be a YES! or more accurately, a HELL, YES! All sorts of ideas crept into her mind, and none of them involved an obstacle course. “Listen, Nick. You think you’re helping, trying to save me or something, but I don’t need your pity.”

  He sat in the small chair with wheels, scooting closer until his face was inches from hers. “You’re saying I’m here out of pity?”

  Why couldn’t she take her eyes off his full lips? “You’ve got a hero complex thing. It won’t work on me. Why don’t you go save some other crippled lady?”

  “Shit, Connor.” He chuckled. “You really are full of it. You’re worse than your brother was.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You told me you are no quitter.” The muscles in his jaw were tight, his gaze steely. Was he going into full lieutenant commander mode on her? Well, she wasn’t one of his men. The battle here was hers alone to face.

  “I’m not quitting anything. Don’t you get it? I lost my foot!” She flipped the covers back. He couldn’t see the stump because the compression shrinker sock covered it, but she wanted him to get the picture through his thick skull. This wasn’t a game. She was damaged goods.

  “And that makes you less of a person?” Instead of squirming away from the horror, he touched her leg just above her sock. “It was just a foot, Jill.” He massaged her calf muscle. “You need to start thinking like a warrior.”

  Warrior? She almost snorted. But the way he touched her… “Oh, oh, wow, that feels… Oh, my God.” How did he know how to do that? His strong fingers pressed into her sore, tight muscles. It was heaven. She watched those incredible hands knead, squeeze, and rub up her thigh. A thrill shot through her. Stop thinking about his hands working other places!

  “Would you think less of me if I’d lost my leg?” he asked.

  “What?” she blinked. “No. Of course, not.”

  His hands stilled. Pulling the blanket back over her, he tucked it around her legs. “You’re much more than a foot, or a leg, Jill. You’re an amazing, beautiful woman. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  Beautiful? Amazing? He was one to talk.

  “When you touch me, I feel...” Sexy, cared for, really, really sexy. “…better. How do you do that?”

  He ran his knuckle down her cheek. The intensity in his eyes sucked her in, a moth to a flame. “You make me feel better too. Maybe you’re saving me. I need you, Jill. More than you know.”

  She grabbed the front of his green T-shirt and pulled. The wheels on his chair rolled into her recliner, and her mouth was on his before she realized what had happened. Gently cupping her jaw, he pressed his full lips to hers as if he’d been waiting to kiss her for years. It was no pity kiss.

  Nick did need her, but what was she saving him from?

  Chapter Three

  Nick deepened the kiss, wanting, needing, so damned much. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he wanted her. He’d been starving for her. As she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, he realized she was starving too. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she opened up for him, just as she had opened her arms for him. How’d she know exactly what he needed?

  He tasted, savored, and enjoyed everything about Jill Connor. And for a moment, he let go. The guilt, pain, terror, blood, all flowed away, and he became whole. Not a hero, not a warrior, just a man kissing the woman he’d fantasized about for weeks. Jill Connor. Hell, he would’ve given everything he owned to stay in that moment forever.

  But fate enjoyed punching him in the balls.

  His ears started ringing, and his vision tunneled. It was happening again. Before he could stop it, the vision hit him like an IED from the past.

  ****

  Nick was back in the passenger seat of the Humvee, leaning out the window and returning enemy fire. Gunfire blazed out of two trucks gaining on them. Sniper David Watson had his boot pressed hard to the gas pedal while taking the occasio
nal wild-assed shot with his Sig 226.

  Nick’s shots were missing altogether. “Do you have to hit every pothole, Watson? You drive like my Granny Mo. It’s pissing me off.”

  “Not my fault this road is a gonad smasher,” David complained. “I didn’t make it.”

  “Just get us back in one piece.”

  “Copy that.”

  Breacher Billy Connor covered their six. He stood in the ring mount, getting the missile launcher ready. He fired off a round of ammo and tossed a grenade. The grenade hit its mark and a hostile’s vehicle caught fire behind them. “Hooyah! One down.”

  “Nice. How about taking out the other truck too? I’m sick of this shit.”

  Billy laughed. “You’re just hungry, Nick. You get grumpy when you haven’t eaten your Wheaties.”

  They were returning from a pre-sunrise scouting mission. Local HUMINT had said Taliban had moved back into caves previously cleared by the Marines. Nick’s team had been asked to do a little housecleaning and take out any trash that still remained. Everything had been quiet in the caves. Apparently, human Intel had been mistaken, or it had all been a set-up. Sometimes it was tough to know the difference.

  “I am hungry. Let’s bury these turds.” Nick leaned way out the window, aimed for the truck driver, and took his shot. By the grace of God, Watson didn’t hit a pothole, and the bullet was dead on. The truck swerved and went off the road.

  “And the last one bites the dust,” Watson said. “I’ll slow down to stop jostling the junk—“

  “Hole!” Nick pointed at a big-ass Humvee-swallowing hole in the middle of the road.

  “I see it.” Watson steered around, going to the far left.

  “No!” Nick registered the mistake in slow motion. “Turn, turn, turn! It’s a trap—” He grabbed the steering wheel, but it was too little, too late.

  They drove right over a buried IED. The fiery explosion lifted the Humvee off the ground and booted it into the sky as if it were a plastic Tonka truck. The crash and rollover went on forever. On the second complete 360 a thought flashed through Nick’s head—The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday. Hell, why was the motto always true?