Her Loyal Seal (9 page)

“We lived in the city. Sometimes not in the best part of the city. When we went on holiday, it was to our grandparents’ in the country. It was an hour north. Does that count?”

“No! You have to stop at gas stations and buy junk food. You have to eat at greasy spoons. You have to stop at tourist traps.”

“I understood gas stations and junk food. What is a greasy spoon and a tourist trap?” Clint opened the passenger door of the black SUV and helped her inside. He made sure she was buckled in.

“Are you comfortable? Here is how you lower your seat back. Why don’t you get some rest before we get to the first greasy spoon?”

“What is a greasy spoon?” Lydia asked as Clint got into the driver’s seat.

“It has to be experienced sweetheart.” He pulled out of the hotel parking lot. She had been taken by ambulance to the hotel hours earlier, in order to throw any potential pursuers off track. Currently she was wearing a scarf around her head, sunglasses, and clothes two sizes too big for her.

Somehow Clint had morphed into a stereotypical suburban husband. It must have been the polo shirt and khaki pants, or it could have been the way he was carrying himself. But he no longer looked like the warrior she knew him to be.

“Tampa, huh? How long to get there?”

“We’re going to take it slow. We’ll get there in three days. I want to make sure we take it easy.” They were already on the freeway and he was going eighty miles an hour.

“Ummm, Clint? What part of taking it slow are you subscribing too?”

He looked at her. She pointed to the speedometer and he looked at it and smiled.

“I meant we were going to stop often so you could rest. I have us booked at three different hotels on the way to Florida.” “Lydia, you have to be tired, why don’t you take a nap.”

“I want to know where all of my family went.” Clint reached over without looking and grasped her hand. He pulled it towards him and rested it on his thigh. It felt good there. The man was all muscle. She savored the warmth. She looked up at his face. He wasn’t smiling anymore; he was grimacing. She smiled. Served him right for putting her hand there.

“Lydia, protocol states we can’t tell you where they went.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “I can tell you Finn went with your parents.”

“Who went with Beth?”

“She’s in safe hands.”

“You mean she isn’t with one of your men?” For the first time in forever Lydia found herself struggling for air.

“She’s with another Navy SEAL. He’s someone I respect and admire.” She tried to yank her hand away, but he wouldn’t let her.

“I don’t care. He’s a stranger. How could you allow that?” She heard her voice rise, and it sounded so loud in the small confines of the vehicle.

“He’s the right man for the job. You know how I feel about your sister, Lydia. I would never trust her with anyone that wasn’t the best. He will defend her with his life.”

“But she is too fragile. She still doesn’t trust people, especially men. I was depending on the fact that it would be one of your men. She knows all of you. After what we went through in the jungle, she could handle being with one of you.”

“I was there when Jack and Beth met. It was fine. He handled her perfectly. I can’t tell you the exact location of where they’re going. But what I can tell you is it’s a ranch and his mother is there.”

Lydia shut her mouth on the next words she was about to say. She couldn’t have heard Clint correctly. She looked at him again, and saw him nodding his head.

“Yep, his mom. Seriously Lydia, Beth is going to be fine. Things will work out.”

She dropped her head back onto the seat.

Fine.
What a weird concept. She’d left
fine
back in the dust almost half a year ago.

****

He hated to wake her up. Hell she’d looked healthier that first day back in the jungle. She might have even looked better the second day when the infection started to grab hold. She’d probably weighed fifteen pounds more then. Of course either way she was beautiful.

They’d been travelling on I-20 for hours and finally arrived in Shreveport, Louisiana. Clint had two sets of reservations waiting for them. One was at one of the riverboat casinos under the alias he used to rent the SUV. There was another reservation he made at a little bed and breakfast under another alias the US Marshalls never heard about.

He pulled into the dark and crowded parking lot of the riverboat casino.

“I fucking love, Finn,” he muttered. He stopped the SUV, got out and removed the traffic cone from the parking spot beside the RV in spot EE25. He got back into his car and pulled into the now empty spot. Lydia still hadn’t stirred.

Clint found the keys to the vehicle on the top of the tire in the rear left wheel well, right where they had it planned. He checked out the interior of the well-appointed motor home before bringing in their things from the trunk of the SUV. When he was done, he opened the passenger side door and traced his fingers down the side of Lydia’s cheek.

“What?” Her eyes opened slowly. “Hi Clint.” She smiled.

“Hi Baby. How’re you feeling? Are you about ready for a restroom? For dinner?”

“Soon. I would like to get out and stretch.” He reached over and unbuckled her seat belt, and then held out his hand to help her out of the car. Her first steps were unsteady.

“Dammit!”

“Why don’t you swear in Spanish?”

“Are you trying to divert my attention from the fact I can barely walk?” Clint supported Lydia as she took shaky steps in the parking lot.

“A little bit. But I am curious about why your English is so good, hell you even swear in it.”

“Trust me, it isn’t that good. I’m struggling with the Computer Science texts in English and it’s killing me. I thought I would just breeze through. I have a friend of mine in the University, and she’s originally from Russia, but she went to high school in France. When she was in class, I would see her listening to the professor speaking in Spanish, but she would be writing in French, because that is the language she first started to study computers in. She was brilliant.”

Clint shook his head, as he guided her back towards the RV. He could feel her weakening. “I can read and write in English and Spanish. I can speak and understand some Farsi and Arabic, but that’s it for me. Do you speak any more than English and Spanish?”

“Portuguese. My grandfather was from Brazil, and some German. A little Japanese. Dammit,” she said as she stumbled. Clint swung her up into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Exactly what I’ve been wanting to do. I love being able to hold you. Now tell me why you swear in English and not in Spanish.” He headed towards the RV.

“Because Mama and Papa didn’t understand what I was saying when I swore in English.” He grinned.

“I thought it was some sort of big linguistic trial you put yourself through, instead you were being a normal kid. I love it.” He opened the door of the RV.

“Clint, this isn’t our vehicle. Have you become a car thief?”

“Does this look like a Corvette? A Ferrari? A Lamborghini?”

“Nope, looks like a mansion on wheels. Maybe a couple of years old, but my God. Oh…. This is part of our cover. Damn, I think you being a car thief and us driving a Ferrari would be more fun.” He stepped up into the RV and gently deposited her into the big and comfortable chair beside the driver’s seat.

“I’ll remember that and when we’re done with all of this we’ll have to take a
real
road trip. You would love to go driving on the Pacific Coast Highway in a convertible. In the meantime, I promised you a bathroom and dinner at a greasy spoon.” He got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The RV roared to life. He adjusted the mirrors, and started backing out of the parking space. Shit, a Humvee seemed like a Fiat compared to this boat.

****

He should never have let her talk him into stopping at the alligator farm and petting zoo. It served him right, he had pointed it out as a tourist trap and as soon as he did she had wanted to check it out. He put his foot down when she said she wanted to do the zip line and got them the hell out of there. She was trembling with exhaustion, and he was kicking his ass by the time the time they pulled into Shreveport, Louisiana.

He was tempted to pull over at a rest stop and make her go to bed in the RV, but the idea of sitting on the side of a road a rest stop made him too damn twitchy. Lydia wanted to eat dinner at a restaurant but he nixed the idea, instead saying they were going to order room service when they got to their hotel room.

Since they were going everywhere as a couple, there was one king sized bed. He got her tucked in and then went out on the balcony and called Darius.

“Clint, what’s wrong?” He heard the sound of a helicopter.

“Can you talk?”

“For a minute. What’s wrong?”

“Lydia. I think she needs to be in the hospital. She’s so weak. She’s only been awake for three hours in the last twenty-four. She can barely walk.”

“Clint, this is the first real day out of the hospital. They wouldn’t have let her out if she wasn’t ready to leave. Every single day she’ll get better. But make sure she doesn’t push herself.”

“She’s so frustrated.”

“It’s going to be up to you to make sure that she doesn’t overexert herself. You sit on her if you have to, but make sure she really gives her body a chance to recover this time. It’s clear she’s been putting her parent’s welfare above her own. That shit has got to stop. While you two are in hiding should be the perfect time for her to really recover.”

Clint leaned against the rail and looked out over the Red River. Darius was right. He could make sure she finally took the time to recover properly. Her dad wasn’t due to testify for six weeks. Hell, she didn’t even need to be there for that. The trial and his testimony could go on for weeks.

“Thanks, Dare.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve got to go.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always.”

Clint went back into the room. He already pulled pillows and blankets to sleep on the floor. For one brief second considered the small sofa, but he would have ended up a pretzel in the morning. He quietly made use of the bathroom, and came out into the darkened bedroom.

“Clint?”

“Is there something you need, Baby?” He saw Lydia propped up on her elbow. “Are you hungry? You didn’t eat anything.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.” He knelt down on the rug he had positioned between the bed and the door.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep?’”

“There?” He heard an odd note in her voice.

“Yeah.”

“Why would you do that? It’s a huge bed.”

“I’m used to sleeping on the ground. I’ve got a rug, blankets and a pillow. This is heaven.”

“Oh.” He watched as she lowered herself back down. Through the gauzy curtains the moonlight highlighted her face. She looked hurt.

“Lydia, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” God, no phrase in the world was more likely to set off alarm bells than asking a woman if something was wrong and her saying ‘nothing’.

He got up from the floor and went to the bed.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Please tell me.”

She was curled on her side, and as he approached she rolled to the other side, away from him, hugging the edge of the bed. Oh yeah, something was definitely wrong.
I’m an idiot.

“Lydia, I wanted to sleep in the bed with you. I wanted to hold you, like we had in the jungle, but it just didn’t seem right. And you’re sick. I thought it would be best if I slept on the floor.”

She didn’t move. Yep, she was either angry or hurt, or maybe both.

“Lydia?”

“Lydia, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.”

He looked at her there, curled up in the fetal position. Had he just heard a hint of tears in her voice? He touched her shoulder and she didn’t move.

Fuck it! In for a penny, in for a pound.

He got up and threw back the covers, and made himself comfortable in the middle of the bed. Lydia trembled and he wasn’t having any of it. He reached around her waist and hauled her up close to him and buried his nose in her soft and shiny curls. She smelled like sunshine. She was just what he needed.

She kept her legs up close to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. “Lydia, I wasn’t rejecting you baby. This is really where I wanted to be.”

He felt her body loosen. He nuzzled the side of her neck, and he smoothed his hands down her arms until she let go. He tangled his legs with hers, so she was soon spooned against him. He twisted a little so his aching erection wasn’t pressed against her bottom. This was not about sex, this was about closeness and comfort.

“I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to do,” she said in a voice so soft he strained to hear it.

“You’re kidding, right?”

She jerked and her body started to go rigid.

“Hey, I was making a joke. What’s going on, baby?”

“Nothing. Everything. I think it is all catching up to me. I really didn’t want to go back to the safe house, but I feel guilty for feeling that way.”

“There’s no reason for you to feel guilty, it’s totally understandable.”

She rolled over and looked at him, her face traced with tears.

“I love my parents. I do! So much. But–” She stopped short.

“You’ve been strong for so many people for so long. It would be my honor if you would lean on me for a little while.”

“Being on the run with you—leaning on you—is not how I envisioned our time together. If we were ever lucky enough to meet when this Witness Protection Program wasn’t looming over our heads, I was hoping to be on equal footing.”

She rested her fists against his chest. He could see the anguish on her face and it killed him. He took one of her hands coaxed it open, and rested it against his flesh. She looked up at him with a question in her eyes.

The fact is you do have to rely on me for the next couple of weeks while we are in hiding and you recuperate. But in no way does that make you diminished in my eyes.”