by Liz Crowe
I am grateful I get to bring these stories to light. Understand, these are completely fictitious characters, and the portrayal of their strengths, their internal thoughts, if they were lacking, are solely reflective of my interpretation. You should not judge the SEAL community or their families by my writing. I only try to help readers get acquainted with the wonderful heroes I’ve been fortunate to get to know.
Wounded Warriors is a project I donate to, and I encourage all of you, if you are called to do so, look them up and see what you can do. Volunteer at a Navy for Moms project, or Pets for Patriots. You can send packages to service men and women, adopting someone else’s son or daughter who might want to hear from someone who cares.
Our troops need your support, especially now. Let’s not forget, as we rush around in our busy lives, not to be too busy to say thanks. EVERY FRIDAY we wear red to show our support for the men and women who serve, praying that they come home safe to a grateful nation.
So, even if you can’t donate to veteran’s causes, Wounded Warriors or Pets for Patriots, as well as many other charities that do such fine work, you can do something for them that won’t cost you a dime or a minute of your time:
WEAR RED ON FRIDAYS!
Chapter One
Gina had rolled her ankle twice as she hobbled along the wet sidewalk in her red patent leather four-inch heels. She was already flustered since she was running a good twenty minutes behind schedule, but she wouldn’t run. The last thing she needed was to fall and end up walking in there with skinned knees or a bloody nose. She really needed to settle her nerves—now—in order to survive the night.
She was determined her first undercover assignment would be a success. She’d made the connection with the girl, Mia, and her gangland friends. The two of them had hung out together a few times, but Gina was about to raise the bar. She was going to get up close and personal with Carlos, the infamous Scorpions of San Diego leader who had taken over for Caesar during his incarceration.
The distinctive, unhealthy bar smells assaulted Gina’s senses before she saw the dim lights and the flickering neon sign advertising “Babes.” She’d not been to this particular part of town before, and wasn’t used to meeting the men who frequented the bar—men who paid to watch topless dancers gyrating on poles way too close to the customers.
At least that’s what the guys in the Department had told her. She could tell they had gotten off on it. Straight as an arrow Gina. By the book Gina. Going under cover on her rookie mission in her red heels. Well, she’d prove them all wrong. She had assets they didn’t possess, and she was convinced she was made for such a caper.
It still scared the daylights out of her, though.
Gina hoped Mia was there tonight; otherwise, it would be a quick cab ride home after a text to the team. No sense hanging around a place like this unless there was a reason for it. She was glad she’d left her car at home.
On any other Friday night she’d be in sweats and T-shirt, in her LL Bean slippers or lavender moisture socks, wrapped in the lap blanket her grandmother had crocheted for her in college, reading one of her favorite romance novels. She’d be sipping hot tea, not downing pink umbrella drinks like she was planning to do tonight. She hoped she had it in her to keep her wits tight.
She smoothed her palms down the form-fitting, low-cut, red mohair dress, then put a wad of gum in her mouth and shook her head, which released a few of the curls piled high in a clip. Idea was to give her the “just fucked” look her handler had said she would need.
The irony wasn’t lost on Gina. She hadn’t been with a man for six months, not since her detective hunk she’d been down and dirty with told her about the wife he’d left back in New York. He wanted to continue as coworkers with benefits—and his version of benefits was pretty intense, since he was into all kinds of experimentation.
“We’re separated,” he’d said, as if that made it better, as if it didn’t count that they’d spent the week prior to this reveal together, naked more than not. The memory of it sent a dull ache to her abdomen.
And before Sam? Well, there was her high school sweetheart, the soccer player who went off to war and never came back. It took some time before she could even think about dating. Then it became just dating for sex, uncomplicated sex. It helped take away the pain.
Her college days were unmemorable, romance-wise, since she’d thrown herself into her studies and made the Dean’s list every semester.
Tossing her head back and licking her lips, now tasting of cherry bubble gum, she felt the little glass heart earrings she’d purchased this morning tap against her neck. The feeling was somehow comforting. As if the part she was about to play wouldn’t consume her. Those hearts reminded her that she did have a soul, and it was good, unlike the slutty sexual siren persona she was about to play. She was nothing more than bait on a hook. She knew her place in the department. This was her chance to move up.
Her cab disappeared into the night air. She was left without a lifeline as she stepped through the opened doorway of the dark little dive.
A gasp came from several corners of the bar, making her panties bunch and sending shudders down her spine.
Showtime.
Mia was at the bar, just like she’d said she would be. Nestor, the greasy-haired Scorpions enforcer, had his arm around Mia as she was arching her back and raising her shoulders, trying without success to shake him off
“Hey there, Mia,” Gina said as she plucked the black sweatshirt-covered arm off her shoulder.
“Why don’t you fuckin’ mind your own biz, sweet cheeks?” Nestor stood up, huge muscles making him look like a stubby version of an already stubby Michelin Man.
“Thanks for the compliment,” Gina said in her most direct way. She liked that she had a Smith & Wesson 642 Airweight .38 special strapped to her inner thigh, even though it would be a mistake to use it right now. “I’m her date for this evening, if you get my drift.”
“I smell some female-on-female sex, and I wanna watch.”
“Then go watch your mom in the bathtub. Or, better yet, go jerk off in the men’s room and look real deep into those bloodshot eyes of yours.” Mia snickered at this.
Gina saw the twitch in his cheek, the slow tilt of his head and narrowing of his eyes. Nestor was going to hit her, so she kneed him in the nuts before he could get himself properly positioned. He immediately bent forward, protecting his groin, nearly falling into her. She pushed him backwards with both hands, easily dropping his intoxicated ass to the floor. He landed on the ground spread-eagled, cracking his head on the concrete floor. Gina flinched.
Did anyone notice? She hadn’t wanted to hurt the creep. Gina was relieved when he shook his head and was pulled away by a couple of his buddies.
“Gina, you gotta be careful. Those guys are part of Caesar’s, gang,” said Mia.
“Like I care? Notice how many of them were going to rush over to protect your virtue?” Gina said as she watched the crowd in the corner carefully. A tall, caramel-skinned man glared at her from under the bill of a red baseball cap as he shoved Nestor into a chair in front of the little stage next to him. He didn’t hide that he was perusing Gina’s every curve, daring her to show the smallest bit of fear.
Carlos.
Gina sucked in her gut and tried to calm her nerves. He was every bit as scary as they’d told her in the briefing. She stared right back at him and tried not to blink.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mia muttered, picking up her enormous red purse.
“You planning on staying overnight?” Gina said as she turned a shoulder to Carlos and pointed to the bag. “Come on, let’s have one drink and let these guys drool a bit. It will do them some good.”
Hope to God backup gets here soon.
Mia was nearly off the stool. “No, Gina, I mean it. They’re bad news. Meeting here was a dumb idea.”
While it was good Mia was starting to show some common sense, it would mess up the mission.
“Which mak
es me wonder,” Gina studied Mia’s heavily lined, gold-sparkled eyes. She could see her new friend wasn’t nearly as tough as she wanted the world to believe. “Of all the dives in San Diego to hang out in, why here, if you’re trying to avoid the Scorpions?”
Mia repositioned herself on the barstool, turning forward and focusing on the lighted bottles over the bar as she sighed. “That’s a good question. I guess I thought I’d be safer here. And I have you to protect me, Gina.”
This tugged at Gina’s heart. It was true, Gina was a cop, and so she was able to protect the innocent from the lowlifes of society. Mia was able to somehow figure that out without knowing it consciously. But she was also still putting her faith in men, the wrong men, even though she’d been knocked around by several of them. Caesar’s gang had even kidnapped her, thinking they could force Mia’s brother, the SEAL, to sell them specialized military equipment and firepower. Only reason Mia was alive was because of her hunky brother and the rest of his SEAL Team 3, who saved the day and helped break up a ring that included some dirty law enforcements and regular Navy guys. All of them were serving time now.
The present operation was considered a cleanup detail, an attempt to eviscerate the rest of the gang, and perhaps catch the guys who were trying to take Caesar’s place. “You come in here on Valentine’s Day, and you’re like candy on a string. Begging for trouble,” she shot back to Mia.
The Department is using her, too. Gina wondered if she’d ever get used to it.
“None of them are supposed to touch me. Caesar’s orders.”
“Except you told me you never visit him. So are you still his property?” Gina saw Mia flinch.
“I’m not his fuckin’ property.”
Gina took her seat next to the beautiful Latina. “Women are always some guy’s property, honey. I’m sure your mother has told you so. That’s the way of it, I’m afraid.” Gina didn’t want to look at Mia for fear she’d see it was a lie. Part of her wanted to cheer over the streak of common sense her friend was beginning to develop, though.
They ordered strawberry margaritas. Gina left a generous tip for the bartender, who gave her a friendly wink. “Pleasure doin’ business with you,” he said. He turned to serve another customer, then stopped himself and came back. “Say, you gals aren’t here to try out, are you?”
“No.” Gina said before she Mia could answer.
The bartender leaned on the counter and gave Mia a wolfish grin, his head barely clearing the pink and red paper hearts that hung from the ceiling in a ridiculous display of gaiety. “And what about you, little lady? I’d like to see you up on the stage, showing your stuff. You could make close to a grand a night, did you know that?”
Mia sat up straight. “A grand?”
“I never lie,” the bartender said in a low, sultry voice. Gina could tell he’d been a handsome man at one time, but years behind a bar, and years of indulging in god-knows-what, had left his face ruddy and tired, and his gut flabby. His aloha shirt was buttoned one button too low to accommodate his thick neck, but it exposed a hairy chest with several gold chains buried in the fur.
Gina glanced at Mia and could see her friend was actually considering it.
“You’re joking. You’re not thinking of taking your clothes off in front of this crowd?”
“What kind of protection do I have?” Mia turned and asked the bartender.
The bartender pulled something from under the counter with both hands. He held it just high enough that the girls could see it but not so the other customers could. It was a Mossberg Persuader. Gina hoped the man had some training, or he’d be as likely to kill the dancer as protect her from an overbearing customer.
“You rated on that piece?” Gina asked before she could stop herself.
The bartender scowled. “You got a smart mouth, missy. You got friends in law enforcement or something?”
Gina went rigid. Blowing her cover on the first job in the big leagues was not what she wanted to do. “Hell, no. I thought maybe you were some kind of sick cowboy. I hate guns and what they do to people.” It was true enough for her to follow her comment with a stare she hoped he’d feel all the way to his toes.
The bartender’s hairy arms, covered with tats of naked women, fumbled behind the counter out of sight, replacing the shotgun. He scanned the gang in the corner, as well as some of the customers at the bar.
He was back on Mia. “If I were in your shoes, little one, I’d be wiggling that cute little ass all over the stage and taking home that grand three or four nights a week. Could do a lot for you and the kid. I doubt Caesar will be very good with child support. None of the rest of that lot would be, actually.” He nodded to the corner.
Gina followed his direction and saw the boys taking seats as the music was turned up. All except the tall one with the baseball cap. His arms were crossed as he leaned next to the stage, not bothering to pretend that he wasn’t checking them out, making a clear threat out of his continued slow, insulting perusal. Gina felt her pulse quicken and her hands start to sweat. She was sure the top of her chest was red and blotchy. Her stomach lurched.
The lights dimmed and thankfully, Gina could no longer see the guy’s face, but she still could feel his eyes on her flesh.
A spotlight shone on the bright pink stage curtain. A prerecorded voice announced the first act.
“Put your hands together for the Sensual Shannon and her pot of gold!” the announcer bellowed. Out walked a tall redhead wearing a short, green plaid, pleated skirt. She bent over and exposed her red satin panties.
Movement to their left caught Gina’s eye.
Finally.
Three of the Department’s finest sauntered through the door, followed by a fourth who wore a cap that concealed his face. Everyone was dressed in the black leathers they’d been talking about so much. Thanks to the heavy beat of the music, she’d missed the noise of their Harleys arriving. Devon, the first one in, gave her a wink, and Gina turned her back to them. She heard a low whistle and didn’t want to see who’d done it. She was fairly sure she was blushing.
The bartender was studying her. She knew it was important not to let on she knew them, but she had to admit she was thankful they’d arrived.
A familiar scent crowded close to her right ear. Her body instinctively softened for just a moment before reality set in.
Damn it. Sam. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was the last one she’d expected to be on the team.
“I’m remembering all the sheets we tussled in. I’m getting hard just thinking about it. Miss you, hot stuff,” he whispered tenderly, so no one else could hear. A chill went down her spine while she couldn’t help but remember those lost days and nights with him.
She forced herself to stay focused on the mission and what she was there to accomplish. It pissed her off that his casual attitude was throwing a monkey wrench into an already difficult situation, so it wasn’t difficult for her to turn around and slap him. Then she picked up what was left of her drink and threw it in his face. He didn’t move a muscle, but she could see his was furious with her, blinking through the strawberry liquid staining his face and dribbling down his light blue shirt. Little red paper hearts hanging from the ceiling twirled all around him.
The bartender handed him a clean towel and Sam quietly wiped his face, his eyes riveted on Gina.
The rest of the guys whistled, whooped and chuckled. They grouped around the two girls. That’s when Gina figured out the guys had brought him along on purpose to rattle her.
That’s right. I’m outside the network. I got the fuckin’ message.
“You going to introduce me to your friends, Gina?” Mia was giving them long, thirsty looks.
At least that part of the plan was working.
“This one, he has a bad memory. Like the fact that he has a wife,” Gina said jerking her thumb toward Sam, who still lurked behind her. “The rest of them, if they’re his friends, I wouldn’t bother.” She ignored all of them, hoping they’d thin
k twice before deviating from the plan again and fucking trying to upset her. She ordered another drink.
Little Shannon was keeping the boys around the stage busy. She was down to her panties, her kilt and small white schoolgirl blouse discarded on the stage. She swung her long legs around the brass pole, turning, writhing and riding it with her thighs, leaning backwards air-kissing the men closest to the stage.
Not that Carlos was watching. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Gina, and it made her skin crawl.
Sam leaned into the side of her head, carefully. “You’ve drawn the right kind of attention, G-spot.”
Gina’s loathing for the situation flared into anger. “Keep your fuckin’ distance or I’ll have him call the cops.” She shot a glance to Devon as if to say, ‘What were you thinking?’
The reference to calling the cops was supposed to be the safe signal, but only used in a blown operation. The group got quiet. The bartender spoke up.
“You boys want something, or are you just gonna ogle the customers for free?”
“Yeah, I’m not on stage yet,” Mia turned around, leaning back, to make the most of her lush breasts temptingly exposed by a mostly-unbuttoned black satin blouse. The boys responded appropriately, giving Mia the reaction she wanted. Sam whistled as he brushed past Gina, making sure that they had a thigh-on-thigh experience on his way to snaking an arm around Mia’s waist.
He thinks he owns me. She had fallen really hard for him, and fast. That was the part that hurt the most. She’d thrown caution to the wind. No questions, just a couple of nibbling kisses, and wham, she couldn’t wait to get naked with him. And because he was a cop, she’d thought she could trust him.
