“Roger that,” Mason says.
I roll my eyes at Culver. “Y’all are ridiculous.”
He ignores me, and walks out.
When I turn around, Mason is looking at me. He points to my tank top. “Maybe you should wear a shirt with sleeves, and a higher neck. And, thicker material.”
“You’re describing a turtleneck, Mason. You want me to wear a turtleneck to work out.”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea. And, maybe some really baggy sweatpants.”
“Men are pigs.”
“Yes. Yes we are, and the sooner you realize that the better off you’re going to be.”
“Can I work out in this gym or should I just hang it up for the day?” I sigh a little too dramatically. This is just adding fuel to an already frustrating day.
“You can work out here. What do you want to do?”
I look around for a bag. There isn’t one. Just mainly weights. Big weights. Like The Rock-sized weights.
“I was working out with the bag in the other gym. Maybe I’ll just go for a run.”
“I’ll work you out. I can be your bag,” he says.
“You can be my bag?”
“Yeah. Kick me, punch me, do whatever. I know from the other night that you have a little self-defense training.”
“Yeah, a little.” Okay, I’m being humble. I have a lot of self-defense training. From what my dad taught me and the agency perfected, I’m fairly lethal for my size. But, it’s been a while since I used any of it, so better safe than sorry.
“Okay, let’s spar,” he says, like that’s the most normal suggestion in the world.
“Seriously? You outweigh me by like fifty pounds.” Not to mention he’s a highly trained, elite fighting machine.
“Yeah, probably more than fifty, but I’ll take it easy on you. Let’s go.” He moves over to an open area and spreads his arms wide like he’s challenging me to a wrestling match. Well, this isn’t going to go well for me at all, but what the hell.
I throw a few kicks and punches his way, which he blocks easily. He reaches for my arm in slow motion, trying to give me time to react. It’s super condescending. I hit his arm away and jump back into a defensive mode. He smiles and lunges at me faster, grabbing at my shoulders. I throw a punch to his face, which he easily blocks as he spins me around into a bear hug. I elbow him sharply in the gut and stomp down on his foot with my heel.
“Ugh,” he grunts, and instinctively loosens his grip. It gives me a chance to escape. I’m thinking about what Dad always told me to do at this point, but running away doesn’t make sense right now.
Mason comes at me swiftly. I manage to dodge him once, and to land a hard kick in his stomach, but he barely reacts. In a second, he has me from behind, one arm around my neck in a choke-hold, the other around my waist pinning me to him. His left leg wraps around both my legs, completely immobilizing me. He kicks his left leg up a bit, lifting my feet off the ground. I’m hanging there like a helpless sack of flour. I struggle in vain a couple times, trying to loosen his grip. It doesn’t work at all.
“Oh, okay. I give. I give,” I say, frustrated.
He gently places me back on my feet and lets me go. “You move really well,” he says. “Your best bet is to get away from your attacker as soon as possible, though.”
I take a sharp breath in when I hear my dad’s words coming out of his mouth. My head starts spinning.
“I think I’m done for the day,” I say abruptly as I head for the door.
“Wait, Mills.” He comes after me and grabs my arm. “Did I hurt you?”
And now, he’s using my dad’s nickname for me. It’s all too much. It’s too familiar.
“No, no, not at all. I’m good. I’m just worn out,” I say, looking down.
“Okay,” he says hesitantly as he slowly releases my arm.
I practically run out of the gym and back to my office. My head is quickly filling up with thoughts of my dad, and all of my usual blocking techniques are failing. I just need to get away from the base. I grab my computer and head out. When I get to the parking lot, Mason’s leaning against my car. Damn, this guy never stops. I mean, I guess it’s part of his job description, but it doesn’t translate well to personal life or to my personal life, anyway. It’s starting to piss me off.
“Mason, I’m fine,” I say as I click the car doors open. He slides in front of my door.
“It had something to do with your dad. Tell me what it is or I’m not letting you leave.”
“Mason, get out of the way. Seriously, stop.” I try to open the door, but his body is blocking it.
“No. I’m not moving until you tell me.”
“This is really obnoxious. I mean, seriously, you’re being a bully.”
“Don’t care,” he says, crossing his massive arms across his chest. “Spill it or we’re going to stand here all night.”
My eyes are locked with his, but I’m about a thousand percent sure I’m not going to win this staring contest. Sighing, I say, “My dad taught me self-defense—all that stuff I was just trying on you in there. Whenever he thought I was getting too cocky, he would lock me up like you just did to highlight the first rule he taught me about fighting men.”
“Which was?”
“Strike once hard, put them down, and then get as far away from them as possible.”
“That’s good advice for self-defense,” he says, pausing for a second. “Probably not for life, though.”
“Seriously? Oh, I really don’t need to be psychoanalyzed right now. Really, I don’t. May I get in my car, please?”
I try again to reach around him to open the door. I’m not going to be able to move it anyway with him leaning against it. I’ll just get in the passenger side. As I start to walk around, he reads it perfectly and grabs my arm, immobilizing me with just one hand. I really hate him right now.
“Not yet. Tell me one thing you miss doing with him, and then I’ll let you leave.” He’s holding my arm gently, but firmly, and I have no doubt he will physically restrain me if I try to bolt, so I give in.
“You know you have to go first. Tell me what you miss doing with your mom.” It’s a stalling technique, but it’s worth a try.
He lets go of my arm. “Again, I don’t think I agreed to this order, but fine. I miss baking cookies with her.”
“Really? You know how to bake cookies?” I’m endlessly fascinated that these guys have any normal qualities. They always seem like robot fighting machines to me.
“I knew how to sit and watch her bake cookies, and sample them when they came out of the oven. I used to sit at the kitchen table and put them in the little balls on the cookie sheets, and then eat them right when they came out. I burned my tongue more than once.”
I’m just staring at him. I really don’t want to play this game. I don’t want to talk about my dad right now. I’m trying to stall, hoping he will just leave me alone. I know he won’t, but I think he senses I need more time.
“I couldn’t walk into bakeries for years after she died. If I went into a friend’s house, and his mom was baking cookies, I had to leave. If I close my eyes now, I can still smell the house and still hear her humming while she’s baking. It hurt like hell at first, but now it feels nice to remember it,” he says. “It’s your turn, and we’re burning daylight here. One thing you miss about him. Let’s go.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I miss being in the ocean with him, swimming with him. I haven’t been in the ocean since. . .” I’m starting to choke up a little bit, so I stop.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, since eight years ago when he died, when everything stopped for you, when you quit living.”
“Mason, that’s really uncalled for.” My eyes snap open. I can’t believe what a dick he’s being.
“It’s not. It’s real, Millie. He isn’t her
e anymore, but you are. You can’t just quit living.” He grabs my arm again and starts pulling me toward his truck. “C’mon, we’re going swimming in the ocean right now.”
I pull my arm away. “No, we’re not. Quit being such an ass. I don’t want to go swimming right now.”
“We go swimming, and I leave you alone. You said you needed a workout, so let’s go.”
“You keep saying you’ll leave me alone, but you never do.”
“Do you want to test how persistent I am? Or do you just want to go for a swim?”
“I haven’t done an open-water swim in. . .” I stop myself from saying eight years, so he won’t jump down my throat again. “I’m not in that kind of shape anymore.”
“I’m going to swim with you. You know, I’m pretty good at it. You might even say I do it for a living. I’ll be there. You won’t drown.”
I really do kind of want to go swimming now that he’s talking about it. It’s really hot, and it sounds refreshing. I don’t want him to know he’s right though. It’s the principle of the matter. Raine told me he’s almost always right, but he definitely doesn’t need to hear that from me right now.
“All right. If you will finally get off my ass, we can go swimming. I just need to grab my swimsuit from the hotel.”
“I’ll follow you there,” he says. “And, Millie, I’m trained in tactical vehicle intervention. If you try to lose me, I will forcibly stop your car, and extract you on the spot.”
When I get out of my car at the hotel, he gets out of his truck and leans against it with his arms folded over his chest.
“I’m assuming if I don’t come out of my room you’re going to breach the door,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I mean, yeah, I don’t want to ruin your security deposit, but if I have to,” he says, smiling in a smug way that makes my heart start racing.
I change quickly into my suit and throw a sundress over it. He’s still leaning against his truck when I come out of the room. His eyes don’t leave me as I walk over to him.
He suggests I ride with him in his truck. You know, whatever, let’s just get on with this. He opens my door, and puts out his hand to help me up to my seat. Against my better judgment, I take it. A wave of electricity passes from his hand through my body. I knew it would, and it pisses me off.
“Passenger side always picks the music,” he says as he climbs in.
“I need something to energize me. Like some kind of old rock.”
“Excellent choice.” He clicks a few buttons until a classic rock station comes up.
‘Layla’ comes pouring out of the speakers. I flip my head around and look at him accusingly.
“Oh, c’mon, you planned that.”
He laughs. “You know, I actually didn’t, but the universe is clearly on my side. Do you want me to change it?”
“No, it’s fine. Let it play. I really do like this song.”
I lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes. I can see my dad and feel him all around me, and for the first time since he died, it doesn’t feel like a knife is stabbing me directly in the heart.
Chapter Twenty
Mason
Virginia Beach, Virginia
2019
The minute she takes off her sundress to reveal her swimsuit underneath, I start thinking that swimming might have been a bad idea. Yeah, I’m going to keep my hands off of her, but damn. Just damn. And I thought her workout gear was dangerous. She’s wearing a sleeveless, front-zip rash guard suit. It’s fucking sexy to me that she knows what to wear to swim in the ocean. Most women I know would show up in the stringiest bikini and be worthless the first second a wave hit them. I reach in the back of the truck, pull over my swim chest, and get some fins and face masks out.
“Seriously, you drive around with fins and masks in your truck.” She looks at me like this is a weird thing.
“Millie, I’m a SEAL. Swimming is literally what I do for a living, among other things. It’s like you carrying your computer around. This is my gear.”
“It’s not like that at all,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Besides, your stuff is going to be way too big for me.”
“I carry all sizes, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” I can almost see the wheels spinning faster in her brain. “Oh my God, is this one of your moves with the ladies? You take them swimming, and show off your prowess?”
“This is not one of my moves.” Believe me, it doesn’t take this much.
“I mean, I know you’re not making a move on me, but do you do this with the Frog Hogs?”
“Where did you hear that term? Don’t say that.” It sounds so weird coming out of her mouth. I don’t want her associated with that side of my life.
“Why? Is it insulting to you?” She has a way of looking at me that makes my heart rate sky-rocket.
“It’s insulting to anyone who uses it,” I say. “And, frankly, I wouldn’t waste this much energy on them.”
“Ha, so you do use this move, but just on the ladies that require a little more work.”
There are no ladies that require work around here. Like, literally zero. Except for you, Millie. Except for you.
“I have all sizes of swim gear, so when my niece and nephews come to visit me, I have some for them.”
“Damn, I gave you way too long to come up with an alternative story. I think Virginia Beach is making my interrogation skills soft,” she says.
I hand her the small fins and face mask, and shut the wagon gate. “Is there any way we can just get in the water?”
She starts out swimming ahead of me. I can tell her dad trained her. Impressive form, a lot of strength. She’s handling the swells the right way. But after about fifteen minutes, she starts to slow down. I need to stop her and check her breathing. I grab her foot.
“You okay?” I reach over to take off her mask. She’s breathing too hard.
“Uh, I think. . . I’m really not in this kind of shape anymore.” She’s struggling for words. Time for a rest.
I grab her arm and pull her towards me. “Here, stop paddling and just rest for a second.”
I put my arms under hers and pull her on top of my body, as I lay back to float. She’s still struggling.
“C’mon. Rest back,” I say firmly, holding her on top of my chest.
“Why do I never have a choice in anything?” She starts to relax her body as she feels the steadiness of my body below her.
“Because you would choose wrong. Stop talking. Just close your eyes and try to breathe normally.” I loosen my grip on her, and just let her rest on top of me. Her breathing slows down a little bit.
“I think I’m okay now.” She tries to slide off of me. I block her with my arm.
“Your breathing is still accelerated. Just rest a little bit more before we head back.”
“How do you know my breathing is accelerated?”
“Because you’re literally laying on top of me. I can feel every one of your breaths. Quit trying to control everything, and just relax.”
“Oh my God, Mason,” she says laughing. “Me quit trying to control everything? Are you serious?”
“Shhh, be quiet. You need to save your breath.” I playfully put my hand over her mouth. She bites my finger. Damn. I love a sassy woman. She relaxes her head back on my chest.
I see a pod of dolphins swimming to the left of us. I tap her and point. She tenses up a bit when she sees the fins.
“Dolphins, not sharks,” I whisper. “We’ll let them pass and then head back.”
I lay there, floating in the ocean, with my arms wrapped around her and her body lying on top of mine. We silently watch the dolphins bob through the water. I could stay like this forever. It’s the most relaxed I’ve been in decades.
After the dolphins have passed, she says, “I think I’
m good.”
I let her roll off of me. “Okay, try to let the waves take you in a bit. And just tap me if you need me to help.”
She nods and takes off for the shore. I can tell she’s still struggling a bit, but it’s easier going this way. She’s letting the water carry her a little bit. When we get to shallow-enough water, I grab her waist and stand her up.
“Nice job. You did a little over a mile.”
“A little over a mile? That’s all we did? I seriously feel like I just swam twenty miles,” she says. “That’s a lot harder than I remember.”
She’s breathing hard again, and I’m doing everything I can not to look at her chest. “Well, after all this time, you did great. I’m sure your dad is proud of you.”
“Is proud of me? Like he’s watching me right now?” She looks up at the sky like she might see his face.
“Sure, why not? You don’t think he watches over you?”
“I don’t know,” she says, still looking at the sky. “But, I do know if he’s looking down right now, he’s really pissed that I’m hanging out with a SEAL. He made y’all strictly off-limits when he saw one of you flirting with me when I was a teenager.”
I laugh. “Totally understandable. No one knows you better than one of your own. There’s not one of us that’s any good for any woman, to be quite honest.”
We wade out of the water and get the towels out of my truck. She rolls her hair up in one of them and grabs a surf poncho out of her bag. If I ever doubted she was a beach girl, I am one hundred percent sure she is now. She throws on the poncho and starts working underneath it to take off her suit.
“Do you want me to turn around?” I don’t really want to, but Culver is suddenly in my head again.
“Why? You can’t see anything through the poncho. That’s what they’re for—quick changes.”
I know what they’re for, and I can’t see anything, but just watching her move to take off her suit is making me sweat. Her suit drops down to the ground, and it’s more than I can take. I grab my towel and head over to put my stuff in the cab. When I get back over to her, she has her sundress back on, and seems to have things on underneath it. To tell you the truth, I can’t look too closely. I’m still sweating, and things are starting to get uncomfortable in my swim trunks.
Eight Years: A Novel (Trident Trilogy: Book One) Page 10
