Conceit (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 1) (2 page)

Jerk. That guard wasn’t fit to polish Joaquín’s boots.

After an agonizing wait, the prisoners stumbled out into their partitioned section of the room. My brother came last. All my girlfriends were in love with Joaquín—who could blame them? Even in this pit of despair, he still looked like the ultimate alpha male. His muscles bulged in his orange prison jumpsuit, the elbow-length sleeves barely covering his tattoos.

At least I didn’t have to worry about anyone screwing with him in jail; he was trained to kill a man with his bare hands. Joaquín had everything going for him. Until he was charged with a crime he didn’t commit. I knew my brother, and he simply couldn’t be guilty of what he was accused of doing.

Joaquín was an easy target—a poor Mexican-American orphan with no trust fund, no senator endorsements, and no college education. But my brother had integrity, loyalty, and honor. He would never disgrace his Teammates, betray his country, or destroy his brotherhood. And he could never hurt a woman.

He tapped on the glass, and we both reached for the phone. “Thanks for flying down, Mia. Are you okay?”

I threw my free hand in the air. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not the one in jail facing the death penalty for murder. I took the first flight I could get. What the hell happened?”

The man on the other side of the glass wasn’t the brother I’d grown to respect and adore. He was still strong, still resolute, and seemingly impenetrable. But his eyes. I looked right into his eyes. Though his long dark lashes covered his pain, I knew him too well. To anyone else he would seem formidable, but to his baby sister he looked broken, torn.

“I didn’t kill her. I can’t talk about what happened in here.” His eyebrows motioned toward the cameras in the corner of the room. “But you have to believe me.”

I swallowed. I’d watched the incessant news coverage. It didn’t look good. Two weeks ago, Joaquín’s commanding officer, Paul Thompson, had thrown a huge party for his SEAL Team at his in-laws’ oceanfront home in Encinitas. Witnesses interviewed by the police said they heard loud music and saw women coming in and out of the place. Guess the neighbors weren’t exactly going to call the cops on a group of SEALs.

In the early hours of the morning after the party, Joaquín had discovered a lifeless stripper named Tiffany in his bed. He called 911, and the paramedics said she’d been dead for hours. Joaquín told detectives that he’d slept with her the night before, but that she had been fine when he fell asleep. The police didn’t charge him immediately and waited for the autopsy results. Two days ago, the coroner ruled that she’d died from asphyxiation and had the date rape drug Rohypnol in her system. Since Joaquín had admitted to having sex with her, he had been arrested and charged with her murder.

He already said he didn’t kill her. He would never lie to me, and we kept no secrets from each other. Well . . . we never used to. I held my own deep secret close, never wanting to add any burden to Joaquín’s intense life.

“Can’t anyone clear you? Are the other guys in the Team trying to help or did they desert you? What about Grant…” My voice trailed off.

My ex-boyfriend Grant Carrion, Joaquín’s swim buddy in BUD/S, had been there that night. And I knew the rest of the guys on their Team pretty well. After our parents died, Joaquín had become my legal guardian and I’d moved to San Diego to finish my senior year in high school. I met Grant right before I graduated, and we started dating at the beginning of my freshman year at San Diego State. I’d transferred to San Francisco State as a junior two years ago because it had the best drama department. Well, that was the official excuse for me fleeing—I could’ve finished school in San Diego. The reality was much more painful. Too painful for me to think about, let alone deal with.

Joaquín pursed his lips, his eyes leveled on me. “Leave Grant out of this. I’m not going to ruin his career, too. I slept with Tiffany, but I didn’t kill or drug her. None of the guys are talking to me right now, probably under orders from the command. Our Team doesn’t need this publicity, especially with all the rumors going around about Pat saving Annie from that brothel. My brothers don’t have a choice but to obey. My lawyer thinks I should take a plea. If it’s the best for the Team, then I will.”

I seethed. The public should still be happy that Joaquín’s team just saved a group of USO cheerleaders who had been taken hostage in Afghanistan. I didn’t even know what to say about the Pat and Annie mess, except that I wasn’t buying the Team’s cover story. “Take a plea? Have you lost your mind? You’re gonna confess to a murder because that’s best for your Team? Who cares about your damn Team—can’t you be selfish for once in your life?” I knew the bond of these SEALs ran deep; they’d kill for each other; they’d die for each other. I couldn’t fathom the pain Joaquín had to be going through, but pleading guilty to a murder he didn’t commit was insane.

He blinked hard, too hard, as if he was trying to stop tears from escaping. “You don’t understand. You never could. I’m not going to ruin the rest of the guys’ lives and tarnish our Team’s reputation further. It’s complicated, and I really can’t talk about it.”

I didn’t want to hear about his Team loyalty. “Who’s your lawyer? Is he any good?”

“Daniel Reed. He’s a former Team guy.”

Sure he was—the world’s most exclusive fraternity. Even when these guys left the service, they only hired their own. “What did he say about bail? I’ll find a way to raise money.”

“We won’t know until the arraignment, but he thinks the judge will probably make an example of me. No bail.”

“But you’re a SEAL.”

“Exactly. No playing favorites.”

His posture, the edge in his voice, I knew I was treading on his patience. I needed to garner any information I could before he cut me off. “What’s the last thing you remember? The girl, did she pass out?”

His nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth. “Knock it off, Mia.”

Whoa. He never raised his voice to me. There was no use arguing with him. Joaquín was a stubborn Taurus—I’d never win. I bit my lip and tried another approach. “You can’t tell me anything about that night? Who was the dead girl? Were you dating her?”

“No. I’d never met her before.” Joaquín shrugged. He wasn’t really a relationship guy. A complete player, he claimed no one could ever be faithful to a SEAL, which was bullshit. I’d never even looked at another man when I was with Grant. I still hadn’t, even though we’d been broken up for what felt like forever.

“Who invited her?”

His tone became more agitated. “One of the Team guys invited a bunch of strippers.”

Yeah, I’ll bet.
Strippers and SEALs went together like rum and Coke. At least Joaquín wasn’t a cheater. I couldn’t count the number of times wasted SEALs had called Grant from Panthers, the local sleazy strip club, to be picked up. Grant would drag me along, and then his buddies would beg him to act as an alibi to give to their wives. We used to fight about him covering for the philanderers all the time. I had to make small talk with their wives at the family barbecues, knowing that their husbands had their dicks sucked by strippers the night before. Grant always told me to stay out of it—it was their marriages and not our place to get involved. I argued that we were involved because covering for them made Grant an accessory to their infidelities. At least Grant never went to the strip clubs; he swore it wasn’t his thing.

I tried to stop myself, but I had to know. “Which guy asked the strippers to the party? Mitch?”

He let out a growl. “One more word, and I’ll drop this phone and walk back into my cell.”

My gaze darted around the room. I was grateful that this crime had been committed off the naval base so at least he wasn’t stuck in the brig. Under a civilian justice system I could find him the best lawyers. I’d do whatever it took. “I’ll get you out of here. I’ll find out the truth.”

He laughed, and although it was nice to see him smile, I knew he didn’t have a shred of faith that I could help him. “How are you going to do that, Mia? You’re a theater student. We’re talking about a bunch of Team guys.”

I preferred the term “highly trained actor,” but I wasn’t about to correct him. Plus, who was he trying to protect anyway? Did he suspect one of his Teammates? Did he know who killed the girl? “I know. I’m just trying to help.” But my mind started racing. Why
not
me? Joaquín was my brother—the same blood ran through our veins, the same dedication, the same stubbornness. Just because I lacked testosterone didn’t mean I was any less capable than he was.

He studied me. “I know that look. Don’t get involved, Mia. That’s a fucking order. I didn’t drug or kill Tiffany, which means someone else did. I don’t have a clue who, and I can’t protect you from in here.” His hands shook.

I cringed. This was real, not some fucked-up nightmare. “I can protect myself.” He’d always protected me, been my savior. It would kill him if he knew what had happened to me years ago. But it wasn’t his fault. He and Grant had both been deployed, and there was nothing either of them could’ve done to save me that night. Telling them the truth would accomplish nothing.

“No, I need you to trust me on this.” His voice firmed. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” He was proud, pigheaded, and I knew he didn’t want me to see him defenseless. Just like Grant. These macho SEALs never allowed themselves to truly be vulnerable, not to their families, and most certainly not to their women. Though I completely understood—I was too proud to admit my own weaknesses.

He focused on me. “Mia, I can’t take care of you anymore. This is important. I need you to hear me. You have to be strong for me. Remember that place in Marin we used to hike to?”

How could I forget? On the top of Mt. Tamalpais, in a ridge overlooking the fog, was a group of rocks. Joaquín and I used to go up there and spend hours playing make believe.

“Of course I do. Why?”

“If you need to feel my presence, go there.”

What on earth was Joaquín talking about? He hated what he called my “New Age bullshit” about vortexes and spirit guides. But my spirituality guided everything I did. I didn’t care if he didn’t understand it. “I won’t need to. I’m going to take a leave of absence from school, move down here, and visit you every week until you’re free.”

“Don’t you dare. You only have one semester left. Don’t ruin your life, too. Listen to me. I don’t want you to visit me again. Promise me you won’t come back to San Diego.”

I bit my nails, and my stomach clenched. He was the only person I had in my life since I’d ended things with Grant. Without Joaquín, I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t exist. He would never ask me to abandon him. It was then that I knew in my heart something was gravely wrong. Not just the murder of Tiffany and the charges against Joaquín, but something else. Something hidden deep in the secret realm of the SEAL brotherhood. “I promise.”

I nodded and placed my hand on the thick plexiglass. He did the same. Would this be the closest I ever came to touching him again? “I love you, Joaquín.”

“I love you too,
Angelita Mia
.”

My little angel.
He hadn’t called me that since we were kids. That name had always meant so much to me. I wanted to be that angel for my brother. No, I
needed
to be that angel. And I would. I would live up to my birth name and become Joaquín’s angel.

We only had a few minutes left, so I tried my best to cheer him up. My hands trembled, my body frozen. He’d worked so hard to be a SEAL. It was all he ever wanted. The possibility of his career being destroyed was almost worse than him being accused of a crime he didn’t commit.

The bell rang, and the guard came and escorted Joaquín out of the room. I stared at him walking away, praying that this nightmare would end soon. This couldn’t be goodbye.

I walked out of the San Diego County Jail. Determined. Dedicated. Definite.

I would clear my brother's name. For my entire life he had protected me, lifted me up when I had fallen. It was my turn to rescue him.

I took off in Joaquín’s truck, a brand new Ford Raptor. The scent of the fresh leather tickled my nostrils. For a second, I actually questioned his innocence. How could he afford this new truck? He’d told me he’d saved up during deployment, but I knew he spent most of his money on my tuition and housing. Even though I worked part-time as a makeup artist, living in San Francisco was not cheap. Paul was a second generation Navy SEAL officer and came from old money—was Joaquín involved in something shady that had resulted in him being framed for murder?

I pushed the thought of his guilt out of my head. My gut wrenched for even questioning his honor.

Speeding on Harbor Drive, I rolled down the window and allowed the crisp San Diego breeze to blow all doubt away. Though it was January, the sun was still bright in the sky. As Joaquín’s words replayed in my head and the look on his face haunted my thoughts, I choked back tears.

The Raptor seemed to have a mind of its own, and I found myself driving toward Grant’s place. I had to see him. I had no choice. He was my only hope. I needed to ask for his help. I prayed that he would be able to fix everything like he once had. He’d been with Joaquín at the party that night. He must’ve seen something.

My insides twisted. The intersection of excitement, desperation, and guilt left me unable to focus. Grant was the one man who rivaled my brother in his steadfast character. He’d been my first love, my only lover, and I’d shoved him away. Like every great thing in my life.