She stared at the tight group of boats.
“Those dudes out there are the most determined sons of bitches on the planet right now. They’ve made it this far, and no way are they gonna fuckin’ quit. Not when they’re already halfway there. They’re exhausted, in pain, scared of what’s next, but they’re gonna keep going.” He gave her a squeeze. “Just like you. You’re brave as fuck, Lani.”
Before she could protest, he went on, “You are. You told me what you were going to do, therapy and whatnot, and by God, you’re doing it.” He grinned. “That’s what I have a ringside seat to, and I gotta tell you, I’m sorta diggin’ it.”
She couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, even as she dug her elbow into his side. “You’re weird. I don’t feel all that brave or anything, but whatever.”
Geo didn’t reply, but he left his arm where it was, and after a moment she let hers creep around his waist in return. Nestling against him, Lani soaked in his solid warmth, a shiver going through her at the sight of the little boats being buffeted by the cold, dark water.
“Did you hallucinate when you were going through it?” she asked curiously.
“Oh, fuck, yeah. I was convinced there was an evil clown following us. I kept shouting, ‘Better not come any closer, motherfucker!’”
She giggled.
“Another dude saw snakes crawling in and out of the boat, and this one guy swore he saw his mom’s face in the sky. I’d never met his mom, but when I looked at the sky, I saw her, too.” He shook his head. “Surreal.”
Her “geez” was hushed and heartfelt, and Geo said, “Sometimes, more times than I want to admit, the only thing that kept me going was the thought of Cade losing that bet. If it wasn’t for him, I probably would’ve f-failed—”
A sudden tremor went through him. Immediately he shook off her arm and turned his back, shoulders rising and falling as he sucked in a few ragged breaths. Lani stood frozen, aching to comfort him but unsure what he needed, or more importantly, what he’d accept. So she just waited, tummy in knots, until he finally faced her again, his eyes dry, jaw set.
“Ready to go?”
When she nodded, he strode off across the sand toward the parking lot, tension in every line of his body. She followed more slowly, a sneaking suspicion growing inside her, a worry that Geo wasn’t letting himself grieve for his friend.
Don’t make the same mistake I made, she pleaded with him silently. Don’t stuff it down and think it’s just going to go away.
By the time they reached his truck, he appeared composed. “Sorry about that,” he said, his tone discouraging any sympathy, any questions.
They rode in silence to her apartment, and as they turned into the parking lot, she ventured, “Geo, if you ever need to talk about it—”
“I’m good,” he interrupted. “That memory just caught me off guard, that’s all.”
“An ambush moment.”
“What?” He stopped in the middle of shoving his door open, his voice tight.
“That’s what my therapist calls those, the memories that sneak up on you like that. Ambush moments.”
“Hmmph.” Slamming his door, Geo trotted around to hand her from the truck, his touch gentle, but his eyes bleak, distant. They didn’t speak all the way up the stairs, and when she’d slid her key in the lock, she glanced up at him.
“Would you like to come in?”
He blinked, and for a moment she thought he was about to say yes. Then he shook his head. “I can’t.”
Disappointment shot through her, but she refused to let it show. “Okay. Well, thanks for taking me to meet Bosch. He’s amazing.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “He is. And you’re welcome. I love showing him off.”
As he turned to go, she blurted, “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
Geo’s throat worked. Then he gave a terse nod, jogged down the steps, and was gone. Inside her apartment, Lani collapsed onto the couch, her thoughts in a jumble. Finally she struggled to her feet and into the kitchen to make tea. As she did, she caught sight of her journal. Pulling it to her, she picked up her pen.
It really is sad, she wrote, that a man can trust me enough to reveal one of the most intimate aspects of who he is, yet at the same time can’t bring himself to cry in front of me.
Her heart aching, she stared at her silent phone.
Boys do cry, Geo. Even SEALs.
Chapter Ten
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Pounding the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, Geo inched forward, the red brake lights glowing over the horizon as far as the eye could see.
Goddammit, what he wouldn’t give for his bike right now. Adrenaline and speed, that’s what he needed, two things guaranteed to clear the mind and quiet unwanted emotions. Instead, he was trapped inside the cab of his truck with nowhere to go, no escape from the inexplicable anger boiling through him, along with crushing sadness, and guilt.
So much fucking guilt.
When his phone rang, he stabbed the Bluetooth button. “What?”
“Guess who’s in town?” The velvety smooth voice washed over him, and Geo smiled in spite of himself.
“Hey, Tariq.”
A pause. “You okay? What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Geo blew out a breath. “Just a lot of things on my mind.”
Tariq gave a low chuckle. “Well, you know I’d be happy to, er, suck all your problems away. Just say the word.”
Geo waited, but there wasn’t a shred of temptation, not one. He couldn’t help but wonder why, even as he said, “I have to be on a plane in the morning, T, so the only thing I’m taking to bed tonight is a bottle of vodka.”
“Shit, baby, I’m down with that. Where d’ya want to meet?”
Sighing in resignation, Geo named a bar east of the city that wasn’t known to be a military hangout. “Twenty minutes?”
“See you there.”
Thankfully, the traffic eased up after the transition onto the I-8 freeway, and so did a bit of Geo’s tension. As he relaxed, the inevitable regret started to creep in.
What was the deal with him? One minute he’d been talking to Lani, the next swamped by a tidal wave of grief so strong he’d almost started howling. An ambush moment, she’d called it, and like any ambush, he’d immediately fought back against it. He’d won, but it was a narrow victory, and he’d managed to wound Lani during the battle.
He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. She had her own war to fight. She didn’t need to be dragged into his.
After turning into the parking lot of the neighborhood bar, Geo locked his truck and strode inside. It was the type of place where people simply went to talk, and drink. No music blared in the background, there was no dance floor, just the bar counter and some tables scattered throughout, along with a pool table and dartboard.
He spotted Tariq even as the other man waved him over. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he ambled in his direction, smirking at the sight of the vodka shots lined up on the table in front of one of the empty chairs.
He dropped into the seat and downed three of the shots in quick succession, welcoming the burn. “Ah, thanks, I needed that.”
“I could tell.” Heavy-lidded topaz eyes traveled slowly over Geo’s face. “I’ve missed you, habibi.”
At the sound of the Arabic word, more memories rose to the surface—of raw need, brown skin slick with sweat, begging whispers in a velvety mixture of languages breathed in his ear...
Geo downed another shot. Tariq lifted an eyebrow, although he didn’t say anything, just poured him a beer chaser from the frosty pitcher in front of him. They studied each other over the rims of their glasses.
Lean and wiry, with black hair and those unforgettable eyes, Tariq Aimen—although Geo was sure that wasn’t his real name—worked for one of t
he alphabet agencies in their counterterrorism unit. He spoke English, Arabic and Spanish with flawless accents, and was able to morph in and out of various personas like a snake shedding its skin. They’d met in Afghanistan on a long-ago op, and added benefits to their friendship during a long, drunken night in Germany.
“So what’re you doing in San Diego?” Geo asked, leaning back in his chair and kicking his legs out.
Tariq mirrored his pose, his long fingers cradling his own beer glass. “Eh, following up on a case I was working way back in my narcotics days.” He shrugged. “Overseas, I’m mujahid. In the States, I’m just a cop.”
Geo drank steadily as they caught up, and he was drifting in a most pleasant haze when he felt Tariq’s foot nudge his, then slide discreetly up to stroke his calf. Their eyes met.
“It’s been a long time,” Tariq murmured. “Spend the night with me. I’ll make sure you get on your plane.”
The pleasant haze sparked into a flame of desire, which almost immediately fizzled out. Geo cleared his throat. “Don’t think I’d be good company tonight, T.”
Disappointment flitted across Tariq’s face even as Geo wondered at himself. Not only was Tariq a satisfying lover, he was a good friend, and Geo enjoyed spending time with him. Besides, booze and sex had always been his favorite training trip send-offs. What the hell was the matter with him?
Tariq’s foot fell away. “Maybe next time.”
In the sudden awkwardness, Geo mumbled, “I’ll get another pitcher,” and stood to weave his way toward the bar. As he did, a beefy white guy bumped into him.
“Excuse me,” they both muttered, and when Geo glanced at his face, saw that he was wearing a black ball cap, nothing special, except for the words stitched across it: SEAL Team M4.
White-hot anger instantly shot through him, the intensity of it making him shake. The guy continued on to sit at the bar, an attractive blonde woman soon joining him.
Geo ordered the beer and picked his way back toward his table. “Did you see that douchebag’s hat?” he demanded, plunking the pitcher down with a slosh.
“Yeah. Team M4. Gotta love those Call of Duty wannabes, man.”
“Love them?” Geo’s voice rose. “That’s some stolen valor shit, T.” He poured himself a glass of beer and drained half of it in one gulp.
“Eh, he’s harmless. Let him have his fantasy.”
Geo wanted to let it go, but found his gaze darting back to the man and his date again and again. They were sitting close together, the woman squeezing his biceps admiringly as if measuring the muscle.
“Fucker’s misrepresenting himself to get in her pants,” he grated, then shoved his chair back and stalked toward the couple.
“Geo, wait—”
Before Tariq could stop him, Geo was tapping the guy on the shoulder. “You’re a SEAL, huh?”
The guy puffed up his chest. “Sure am.” Smirking, he turned on his stool and propped his elbow against the bar top.
“Dude, that’s pretty cool,” Geo gushed. “You been in the shit?”
Taking a swig of his beer, the man said, “Oh, fuck yeah, I have. Afghanistan, Iraq. Top secret missions.” He glanced around, then said under his breath, “My kill count’s in the thousands. Way more than Chris Kyle’s.”
The anger in Geo’s blood exploded into full-blown boil. “Really.”
Suddenly, Tariq was there, gripping his arm. “Easy, bud. He’s just some dumbass trying to boost his self-esteem.”
“I actually know some team guys myself,” Geo went on as if Tariq hadn’t spoken. “Which BUD/S class were you?”
The man’s gaze flickered a tiny bit, but he tried to bluff it out. “Well, you know, the Class of 2002. Went in right after 9/11.”
“Class of 2002, huh?” Geo said loudly. “I thought BUD/S classes had three-digit numbers. Learn something new every day!”
By then the guy had caught on that Geo might be the real thing. He paled, stammering, “Hey, look, dude. I was just joking.”
Geo kicked the bottom of his barstool. “You lying sack of shit.”
“That’s enough.” Tightening his hold on Geo’s arm, Tariq tried to ease him away. “You humiliated this asshole in front of his date.” He nodded his head toward the woman staring at them, wide-eyed. “He’s learned his lesson, I think.”
Jerking his arm free, Geo growled, “This piece of trash is impersonating a brotherhood he doesn’t have any right to even think about, much less pretend to be.” He grabbed the guy by the front of his T-shirt, yanked him to his feet and shook him hard. “You think it’s funny to brag about kill counts? You think it’s cool to pretend to be something you’re not, compare yourself to Chris Kyle? How about other SEALs who died? You gonna bring up their names, too, you fucking loser?”
Geo was shouting now, and the guy put his hands up. “C’mon, man,” he babbled. “I was just trying to impress a lady. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, no disrespect, I swear.”
“Fuck you and your no disrespect. How about we step outside?” Geo swung the man around and shoved him toward the door, only to find his path blocked by one of the bartenders wielding a baseball bat.
“I’m about to call the cops, buddy. Let him go.”
Tariq grabbed his arm again. “George, knock it the fuck off,” he whispered urgently. “I can’t be picked up by the cops, you know that.”
The words bounced off Geo’s rage like water on Teflon. He let out a bitter laugh when the poser scuttled around behind the bartender. “Fucking coward,” he sneered. “A real SEAL would stand and fight.”
“Okay, no one’s gonna fight,” the bartender grunted. “And you need to leave. Now.” He planted his legs wide, brandishing the bat, his face glistening with nervous sweat.
“What? You’re kicking me out?” Geo snarled through clenched teeth. “He’s the asshole!”
“I’m asking you to leave before there’s any more trouble.” When Geo took a step toward him, the bartender raised the bat to his shoulder.
“Goddammit, George!” Digging his fingers hard into his biceps, Tariq dragged him across the bar and through the door. “Sorry!” he called back over his shoulder. “We’re leaving.”
Once outside in the parking lot, Tariq shoved him away. “You came this close to getting us both arrested,” he snapped. “What the actual fuck? If anyone runs my prints, man, my cover’s blown to hell.”
Geo wanted to care, but the rage coursing through him hadn’t abated. When he caught sight of the wannabe SEAL hovering in the doorway to the bar, gloating, he charged toward him. “What’re you looking at, dickstain?”
As he drew closer, several of the bar patrons aimed their phones at him and started recording. Tariq saw them at the same time. “Fuck, I’m out,” he hissed, and melted away into the darkness, leaving Geo alone.
Spreading his arms wide, he faced the crowd. “If anyone wants some of this,” he yelled, “come and get it!”
Despite the fact that Geo was intoxicated and outnumbered, when some dude—his balls firmly in a bottle—took a swing at him, the fight was on. Grunts and shouts, the smack of fists on flesh, along with the high-pitched screams from the onlookers, all coalesced into a maelstrom of sound and exhilaration that buffeted Geo like the winds of a hurricane.
In the moment, his only goal was survival. He didn’t have to think about Lani, or Tariq, and how he’d disappointed them. He didn’t have to think about anything that hurt, especially Cade and that stupid bet, the bet that’d ended up carrying Geo through BUD/S and into a career most men could only dream of.
Most of all, he didn’t have to think about the fact that while he owed Cade everything, when Cade needed him in return, Geo’d been nowhere to be found.
Crack!
The lucky punch caught him directly in the jaw, and as he crashed to the ground, as his vision filled with flashing blue and red l
ights, then dimmed, he thought, “How much longer can I go on like this?”
Then everything went black.
* * *
“Let’s go, Monteverdi.”
The metal door whirred as Geo pushed himself up from the hard plastic bench. He waited for the detention officer to cuff his hands in front of him, then shuffled next to him down the hallway where they were buzzed through yet more sets of metal doors. At last the uniformed man unlocked the handcuffs and pointed toward a counter. “Go get your personal property.”
As he processed out, he could see his troop’s command master chief, Alex Cairel, pacing in the waiting room on the other side of the bulletproof glass. The officer handed Geo a manila envelope containing his wallet, phone and keys.
“You’re free to go.”
One more metal door, and then Geo was facing Alex, a tall Filipino man with colorful tattoo sleeves on his arms and a thunderous look on his face. “What the fuck, dude?”
Geo knew better than to say anything as they made their way outside to Alex’s SUV.
Alex railed on. “You’re the last guy I’d expect to get arrested in a fucking bar fight. Jesus Christ.”
The drive was made back to the bar in a miserable silence. Alex pulled up next to Geo’s truck, but before Geo could get out, he ordered, “Wait.”
Geo froze with his door halfway open.
“I know you went through a lot with your last platoon,” Alex said quietly. “I’m wondering if you’re dealing with it.”
Swallowing hard, Geo croaked, “Yeah, I’m—”
“Because I don’t think you are,” Alex interrupted. “When you first came on board, I talked with your former CMC. He told me you refused to see the Navy psychologist they sent over after Barlow’s death.”
His gut churning, Geo let out a bitter snort. “That guy was a fuckin’ joke, Master Chief. He wasn’t there to help us, he was there to satisfy his own morbid curiosity about what happened.”
Painful memories flooded him, of how the psychologist’s questions in their group session had focused on what everyone saw and heard, and what they thought Cade was feeling the moment he pulled the trigger.
Trusting a Warrior Page 13
