A SEAL at Heart (7 page)

“I’m going to cum.” With those words, he pulled out, lowering her onto his thighs. Pulling the condom off in one swift motion, his seed spewed out, hitting her breasts and belly. Before she could even react, he was pulling her completely down on top of him and wrapping his arms tightly around her.

Closing her eyes, she gave into the safety and warmth and thought about the vulnerability she’d seen in those last moments. Even through the haze of her pleasure, she’d witnessed this fierce, tender part of him. It was like looking into his soul. It touched her deeply, and she had no words for what she wanted to say to him about it. Maybe saying nothing was better.

“That was like some kind of fantasy scene.” His words were loud in her ear as he hugged her close.

Unwrapping his arms, he released her slowly and reluctantly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m going to jump into the shower real quick.”

“You have a shower in this place?” He seemed surprised. “Wait, is there an apartment in back, too?”

“Yep, I’ve got a lot of perks going on here.” Her body was sore in places it was hard to comfort, and as she passed the full-length mirror she paused to look at herself. Why did she feel different?

Shit! What are those red spots? “Are these hickeys?” How could a man put that many marks on her body… and without her realizing it?

“That’s why they call me Red Jack,” he said smugly as he put his hands behind his head and stretched his legs out, obviously making himself more comfortable.

“Don’t give me that load of crap. I grew up with the Teams. You probably got the label for some dumb-ass reason during training.” Her hands were on her hips and she meant business. She pointed a finger at him. “Tell me the real reason right now.”

He laughed and then rolled on his side to face her. “There were three guys named Jack in my training class. Gich was into wearing those colored bandanas, and he gave me the red one, another guy a yellow, and the last guy a blue one. Yellow Jack eventually became known as Streaker, mainly because he liked to run around naked. Blue Jack became known as Blue-balled Jack, because he kept pissing off the ladies and Gich. And me, well, I turned red as a lobster during the first week of training—before I got my tan—and kept the tag Red Jack. I also have a propensity to make the ladies blush.” A wink and salute came her way.

She laughed. “Oh my, you are full of it, aren’t you?” Walking slowly toward the bathroom, she put a little extra swing into her hips. When her hand was on the doorknob, she said, “Well, are you coming?” Looking over her shoulder, she gave him a wink. “I could use someone to scrub my back and perhaps a little lower, too.”

They’d just had sex, and she wanted him again. Hell, the truth was, he just made her feel seriously sexy and very feminine, and that felt very good.

His body moved like lightning. This man definitely had good “quick twitch” muscles. Within seconds, he was standing before her and she was looking up into his eyes.

“You are fast, aren’t you?” She grinned at him.

“Only when I want to be,” he said wickedly. “Let’s see what I can do to help you, uh, in the shower.”

He who knows others is wise. He who knows himself is enlightened. He who conquers others has physical strength. He who conquers himself is strong.

—Lao-tzu

Darkness painted the night sky and only a few stars peeked out now and then. A heavy marine layer was hovering above the sand and water, trying to decide if it was coming farther onto shore. Jack had been unable to resist rising at three a.m. Part of him had wanted to stay in bed with Laurie, have a cup of coffee, and eat breakfast, but there was too much weighing on his mind. Getting to the obstacle course early to take advantage of the quiet was his number one priority. Exercise forced the demons out, or at least helped him make sense of them.

He’d tried to work out on the O course yesterday, but reporters had surrounded the base, attempting to get pictures of SEAL training. Everyone wanted to get snapshots, given the way SEALs were lighting up the news channels. Their successes were splashed around the globe.

Jack wished they would go bother the Teams on the East Coast. There were Team guys there, too.

Didn’t the news people understand that if their identities were known throughout the world, it would be hard to operate? Being stuck behind a desk was worse than death for a SEAL; it was torture, one excruciating report at a time.

Whipping through the course, he pushed himself to climb the rope ladder faster and faster, until sweat poured off his body. When his hands were aching from use, he turned his attention toward the beach and did his usual grueling run.

Turning his mind off, he allowed the thud of the whitecapped waves and the hard wind to keep his mind blank. People were already dotting the beach, securing blankets and canopies to stake out their favorite spots. A few Team guys were enjoying the surf and had obviously dragged their wives with them.

Dogs ran free, barking and chasing the seagulls. The owners would get fined if they were caught, but it was probably worth it. There was never a cop or lifeguard on duty this early. Who cared anyway?

It was like that uproar several years ago. “Stop the dolphins from pooping in our oceans. They are polluting our water. Do you want your kid to swim in waste products?” Then some kid had replied, “Don’t we do that already? The dolphins live there. What do you want to do, put a diaper on them in their own homes and make a greater mess? Poop is biodegradable; nature is smart about such things.” The rebuttal had gotten so much laughter, the issue had been dropped.

Why didn’t people realize that the planet is the way it should be? Animals are wild and people are, in most cases, unpredictable. No matter how many regulations are set, someone or something will always be unhappy or uncomfortable. Jack’s philosophy was “get out there and live—the world is whatever it is.” His job was to make it safe and never get caught.

That’s why the group therapy bugged him. He felt like he was being punished, which made him clam up even faster. None of that psychobabble was going to help him.

Opening up needed to come about naturally. Like last night, after he and Laurie had showered, they’d eaten and they talked. The organic unfolding worked for him. It was even better when she’d shared the tape of his session. According to her own set of procedures, she taped every client session, and hearing his own words had impacted him. The sleep had helped, too. In just a few short hours, this woman had done things the shrinks could not.

Maybe he needed to try that other earth medicine—hoodoo—stuff. Mulling over the how-tos, he reached the fence of Naval Air Station North Island, turned around, and headed back. His mind was methodical. He weighed the pros and cons, and though his sense of control wasn’t spanky-happy, the alternative—doctors and group therapy—was worse.

It seemed to him, if he could get the answers without the whole horrific medical experiment being documented on his permanent record, it would be worth taking the leap for Laurie’s methods. How bad could it be?

Besides, this woman acted as if she cared about him, and she definitely enjoyed his body. The image of her mouth working over his skin made him harden slightly. Yep, going down Laurie’s road felt right.

He visualized cleaning his gun—piece by piece—to make the issue “stand down.” As it began to take effect, he gave himself over to the serenity of the morning run.

The sweetness of the air was spectacular, and the early morning sunbeams, as they poured across the sky, sending a rainbow of colors to announce the dawn, held his attention. A snapshot of this moment would have made a spectacular painting. Even this brief perfect moment in time would eventually fade.

Nothing was permanent, though he sometimes wished he could freeze time, just to appreciate it longer. He had never been very skilled in art, though it appeared relaxing. One of his heroes, a retired SEAL from Team ONE, had learned to use watercolors after a car hit him. The devastation to his body had been tough, but art had helped him gain mobility in his hands and arms.

Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to wait for something tragic to happen before uncovering any hidden talents. When he was a kid, he’d spent hours performing daredevil stunts on his bike or drawing with his colored pencils. Back then, he’d considered being an architect, but after his parents died, he hadn’t dared dream.

The SEAL bug had found him when he read in school about Thomas Rolland Norris—SEAL Medal of Honor recipient—the special-operations man who’d led a mission into Vietnam to rescue two pilots caught in enemy territory. Half of the men were killed trying to reach their goal, and Tommy helped the wounded, mounted a counterattack, and saved the pilots.

Norris spent three years recovering from injuries and went on to become a member of the FBI despite his disabilities. The man had serious strength. He never quit.

Jack knew what his goal was after learning about Tommy. The SEAL continued to be an enormous influence on him, too, though he probably never knew it.

UDTs
were
bad-asses!
He thought about the Underwater Demolition Teams, which were the SEAL roots. The World War II guys were unstoppable, and the Vietnam-era guys made it through some of the hardest traumas of their life even as part of America condemned their commitment to the fight for freedom. They didn’t give up. SEALs were made to keep on giving back to their world, their communities, their families, and each other. Honor, courage, and faith were supposed to radiate from their pores, even when tasks seemed monumental. Those were the footsteps he had to follow.
Dig
harder. Run faster.

Stretching his stride farther, he felt his heart rate kick up a notch. His aim was to push himself to the brink.

“They never said die, and I will never give up,” he panted. His life—his entire career—was depending on resolving this memory issue. “I will find my answer.”

Waving briefly to the on-duty sailor watching him from the guard shack, Jack leaped over the line that separated the civilian world from the Amphib Base and made his way toward the middle of the beach. Finally, he slowed his pace.

Dependents—military wives, husbands, and children—dotted the expanse. A small sign stuck in the sand read Child Development, which was a mommy or daddy and children-five-and-under playgroup. Weaving in and out of the kids, Jack slowed his pace so he didn’t step on anyone or anything. His eyes focused on the pregnant bellies, the mommies in tiny bikinis, and a woman breast-feeding her baby.

“Uncle Jack.” The label froze him in his tracks. His eyes worked hard, quickly scanning the kids around him until he zoned in on his target. Sunlight was shining down on her, blinding him for a second, and then the clouds pushed together and he could see her. Kona.

Jack sank slowly onto the sand, panting. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest.

Don’s daughter sat on the ground before him. This innocent, charming child humbled him. He took a deep breath, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her. Too much pain and too many tears would come from doing that. Instead, he reached for his tactical cool—the soldier part of himself. “Hi Kona, how are you? Is your mother here? You’re not alone, baby, are you?” Emotion was a thick knot stuck in his throat and the words felt tight as he spoke around them. “Where is she, honey?”

“Behind me. Sitting near the sand hill,” said Kona as she smiled at him and then went back to her work. Systematically, she filled her shovel with sand and then dumped the contents into her waiting bucket—pink with giant gold trident stickers on it. Decorated, undoubtedly, by Don. She must really have liked that bucket, because she protected it from the water—lifting it so it stayed dry.

Then she placed it back on the sand and diligently scooped sand until her child-size container was full. Flipping it over, she made a house, making smaller mounds around it to create a tiny village. When it was complete to her satisfaction, Kona spoke. “I like things that are full. Empty stuff makes me sad, and quiet time, too.”

Jack’s eyes scanned the child’s face and then the surrounding men, women, and children. There was nothing here to harm her, and yet he still felt as if something could. Maybe, it was him. Keeping himself away from her protected the child.

Changing his aim, he sought her mother with his eyes.

A curvy mocha-skinned woman smiled and then waved at him. Sheila had been watching him—of course. Don’s wife was the protective type, though her appearance was welcoming.

He nodded and waved back, but he couldn’t make himself smile. Shit! He should have gone to see her sooner. Running into each other here was hard. Maybe he could just get up and continue his run. No one would fault him for training. This was the way of Navy SEALs—exercise was a way of life. He didn’t have any answers to give her yet.

Someone was tugging on his sleeve. He gave that charming little one his full attention.

“Kona, I… I’m so…” began Jack, then he stopped. He couldn’t complete the apology. Finally, he said, “I loved your dad.”

The pretty little girl nodded and then she went back to her sand piles. She looked the way she always did—sweet and kind. He’d always wanted a daughter like her. The thought took him by surprise. As a terminal bachelor, he shouldn’t have been thinking these thoughts.

“My daddy died,” she said in a matter-of-fact manner. “Mommy takes me to sand therapy at school, but I like being at the beach better. The waves are pretty, the air smells yummy, and… there is no one looking over my shoulder, asking me questions. I know what they’re doing. They want the answers in my head. That’s called shrinking. Daddy didn’t like it—he told me about it—so I don’t like it either.”

Misery chilled his blood at hearing those words. “You’re a pretty smart five-year-old, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kona said, looking up at him. “Uncle Jack, why can’t Daddy come home from heaven? He came home from other places. No one will es… explain it to me.”

“Kona, did Mommy talk to you about heaven?” The sweat on his back was cooling on his skin.

“Yes, Mommy said, ‘Heaven is in the sky.’” She gazed at him wide-eyed. “Would you go find him for me, Uncle Jack? Grab him when you wear your parachute. It won’t be hard for you. I want my daddy to come home.” Her tiny fingers scratched at the tip of her nose. “Mommy cries a lot and that makes me sad, too.”

There were no more words. She just stared at him.

He had nothing to say to this beautiful child who was shredding his heart. His eyes darted back and forth over the sand as his mind searched for an appropriate response, something he could push past the knot in his throat.

A shadow fell over them, blocking the sunlight. If only it would rain and save him from this moment.

“Hi Jack.” The soft, dulcet voice of Don’s wife brought gooseflesh flying up the skin on his back. He craned his neck to see her face. The sun outlined her body, making her look ethereal. Her skin was clear and creamy, and there was only a smudge of darkness under her eyes. She was such a gorgeous woman, made even more beautiful by the bulge of her pregnant belly.

“Hi. I’m sorry I haven’t been by. There have been a few complications that I needed… to take care of and—”

“Don’t. No excuses. Whenever you’re ready, we’re here. Kona, it’s time to go home and get ready for school.” The wife of his swim buddy and the best friend he’d had in this lifetime extended an open hand to her daughter, and the little girl obediently stood. The link between them was palpable.

Dumping the sand out of her bucket and placing the empty shovel inside, Kona grabbed the handle with one hand and reached for her mother’s hand with the other. Sheila looked at Jack for a few seconds, and then she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

The wet smack felt hot on his skin as if he’d been branded. He swallowed the pain of emotion down deep inside of him. “Bye, Kona. Have a good day at school.”

“I will, Uncle Jack. Come see me soon.” Her little girl voice was soft. “I miss you, too, Uncle Jack.”

He nodded. A fixture in this child’s life from the day she’d been born, Jack hadn’t considered that he had taken himself away from her. The want to be there, for her and her mother, was raw inside of him. “I’ll come see you soon. I promise.”

“I’m packing. We have four and a half more months before we need to be out of the house.” Sheila said firmly. In other words,
Get
your
ass
over
before
we
go!
If Kona hadn’t been there, would she have said it… called him on his avoidance?

“Where are you moving to?” asked Jack. Shit! He hadn’t considered that regulation that they would have to leave the base after Don’s death. The idea of them going was too final—they were part of him, too. “You could have my place. I’m never there.”

“That’s kind of you, Jack, but a one-bedroom apartment won’t work for us. We need three bedrooms, with the baby coming. I’m heading back to my parents’ house in Riverside, Connecticut. They’ll help me until I can do it on my own again.”

Nodding, he stood and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry to see you go.”