No Reservations (Special Ops: Tribute Book 1) (10 page)

Captain Joe Shey had always looked intimidating as hell.

It wasn’t the uniform that he’d chosen to wear for their late
afternoon meeting. It wasn’t the impressive array of medals on his chest. It
wasn’t how he held himself in such a way that all other guys in the room always
looked a foot shorter than him, even if they weren’t.

After serving under his command, Maddox was immune to those
things. Instead, it was that steely-eyed look the Captain got in his eyes, the
kind of look that could make a guy crap his pants and feel like he’d just been
called to Captain’s Mast.

That look was the stuff of legends among the Teams, and
Maddox spent the years under Joe’s command working very hard to try to avoid
it.

But
that look
was pretty damn useful when negotiating
for a lower rent today.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice today, Captain.”

Joe nodded as they strode along State Circle toward Maryland
Avenue. “Glad to help. First time I’ve managed to leave the Pentagon before five
o’clock in ages. I might have to try it again sometime. Not sure if my presence
did anything, though.”

“They accepted our terms. I’d say it did.”

Joe shrugged casually. “Could have done that on your own.”

Maddox eyed Joe’s uniform up and down. “In this town, it always
helps to throw around a little Navy clout.”

Joe grinned. “Glad I could be of some use.”

He was more than useful, and he knew it. As a financial partner
in this venture, Joe Shey was flat-out mission critical.

“So, did you come up with a name for your place yet?” he
asked.

“Becca likes Mad Dog Ice Cream. She wants a dog looking a
little crazy as our logo.”

“I like it,” Joe said. “Maybe use a Chesapeake Bay
Retriever. They’re pretty big in this area.”

“Good thought. Aidan and the guys don’t like it though.”

“They just don’t like it because Mad Dog’s your name, not
theirs.”

“Well, yeah. And they’re right. We’re all investors in this.
If anything, I think it should be named after Becca’s husband. It’s
his
family’s recipe. Or maybe after Becca, but you know she wouldn’t go for that.”

“She wouldn’t,” Joe concurred as they turned the corner.

“How are things at the Pentagon?” Maddox dared to ask.

Joe grunted in response.

“A lot different from being in the field, I’ll bet,” Maddox prodded.

A tortured sigh escaped the Captain. “It’s hell and gone
from the field. I travel a bit. I was TDY for a few months in the Philippines again
this winter. But when I’m here, it’s mostly meetings and desk work.” He hissed
the last two words and sent Maddox a meaningful look.

Being chained to a desk was every SEAL’s worst nightmare. Half
the reason Maddox had jumped at the chance to open an ice cream shop—as
random as that career choice might have seemed at the time—was because he
couldn’t picture himself sitting behind a desk working for the DoD.

“Bet your wife loves having you around, though.”

A spark returned to Joe’s eyes, and Maddox could understand
why. Anyone with access to a TV or computer had heard of the storybook romance
of Joe Shey and the on-air financial correspondent, Vi Owens, now Vi
Owens-Shey. A while back they were making headlines, whether the Captain wanted
to or not.

Truth be told, Maddox had been watching Vi talk money on TV
before the Captain ever met her. She was a financial genius, and back when he
was in his early twenties, he’d acquired a bit of a crush on her—like
every guy watching her shows, he imagined, following her financial advice like
a bunch of lovesick puppies.

Captain Shey was a damn lucky man.

“That’s the upside. It’s good to have the time together.” Joe
stopped in front of the vacant storefront. “This it?”

Maddox nodded.

“Location’s pretty good,” Joe said, though Maddox could see
him do a double take at the vacancy next door.

“Yeah. It would be better if we had neighbors on both sides.”

“It’s a calculated risk,” Joe admitted.

Slipping the new key into the lock, Maddox glanced over his
shoulder. “Sir, the last time you said that to me, I was about to do a raid in
full daylight.”

“Given the stats for new businesses, I think your odds of survival
then might have been better than this time.”

Maddox winced at his words, knowing he was right.

Joe stepped in first, kicking aside a ceiling tile that had
fallen to the ground. “It certainly needs some TLC.”

“Just aesthetics. After I gut it, you’ll be able to see how
big the space actually is. Plenty of growing room. It was a clothing shop
before. That’s why the space is so broken up. I think those used to be dressing
rooms,” he pointed out. “But when I pull out all those fake walls, there’ll be
a lot of room for seating. And the back is big enough for freezers and
equipment.”

“Did you order the equipment yet?”

“Becca’s uh… father-in-law took care of that,” he said
cautiously, not really sure how to define the father of Becca’s late husband. “Figured
he’s the guy who knew best what we’d need, seeing as he had an ice cream shop
for twenty years. It should be here in six to eight weeks. So I need to make
sure this place is G2G before it arrives.”

“It’ll be good to go. When are you gutting it?”

“This week.”

“I’ll join you when I can break away.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Hell, my money’s on the line just like yours is,” he
chuckled. Then the laughter left his eyes. “This will be good for Becca.”

“It will be good for all of us. We’ll make a killing.”

“No, not just the business. Moving out to the East Coast. It
will be good for her and Brandon to finally be closer to family. I think she
needed a nudge in this direction.” He walked toward the back of the room,
taking in the atmosphere—or lack thereof, as it was. “Thanks for nudging
her.”

“No problem.”

“You’ve—uh—really been there for her. First when
Brian was killed. And now.”

“Any of the team would have done the same.”

Joe’s broad frame diminished slightly. “It killed me not to
be there for her.”

“It’s not like you could up and leave a mission after you’d
gotten the green light. You didn’t have a choice.”

“Didn’t I? After a couple decades of this, you start
learning that every day you’re not submitting your paperwork, you’re making a
choice. A choice to put your country’s needs in front of your family’s.”

Joe’s comment was met with silence.

“Shit. I didn’t mean it that way,” Joe said suddenly, his
tone bitter with remorse, no doubt thinking of Maddox’s dad.

Unable to meet the Captain’s eyes, Maddox eyed a flimsy
piece of paneling sticking up from the ground and kicked it. “No, Sir. You’re
right. Why do you think I got out?”

“Because of your father?”

Ignoring the suit he’d put on to impress his new landlord, Maddox
felt compelled to tug one of the dressing room doors off its loose hinges. He
tossed it to the side. “I was six months old when he died, you know? I don’t
remember any part of it. I don’t remember a single tear my mom shed. She always
put on such a brave face for me all those years growing up. I’d been raised to
believe he was a hero.” Kicking the flimsy wall, the dressing room collapsed
from the impact. “Think demo’s going to be easier than I thought,” Maddox said,
changing the subject. He wasn’t the type to talk about the past to anyone, much
less his former CO.

“Your dad
was
a hero. He won the Navy Cross for his
final mission.”

“And he won the Silver Star the year before. The same award
I got on my last mission with your team, Sir. Hell, if that’s not a sign for me
to get the hell out before I get my own head blown off, I don’t know what is.”

There was so much more seething inside of him, an anger he
never had felt until he saw what his mother must have gone through reflected in
Becca’s eyes when she’d lost her husband. And in Brandon, who was just five
when his dad died, he saw the gut-wrenching pain that Maddox would have endured
himself if he’d lost his dad only a few years later than he had.

Growing up, he’d never really thought about the anguish. During
his childhood, he’d seen his father’s photos on the wall—the ones with
his team brothers. He’d reverently touched the last Trident that his father had
worn that still rested on his mother’s mantle, even after she remarried years
later. When he’d been about ten years old, he’d dared to pin it to his own
chest. It was that moment when Maddox knew he wanted to be a SEAL—a
decision born from the pride in his father and a need to keep his mission
alive.

As he’d gotten older, his mother had shown him a few
clippings from newspapers, their pixely photos his first and only glimpse at
the day his father’s casket had been draped in a flag. He remembered the one of
his mother, looking stoic at they presented her with a flag as she held her
infant son to her chest. In the time-worn newsprint of the local paper, Maddox
couldn’t see the pain in her eyes.

Yet after Becca’s husband died, Maddox vowed he’d never let
a woman he loved—or a child he brought into this world—feel the
kind of anguish he had witnessed.

It was easy to stay in the SEALs through the rest of his
twenties; settling down and popping out a few kids was the furthest thing from
his mind. But that changed a while back, one day when a child’s laughter caught
his attention just long enough to feel a hint of longing, and he started
wondering what kind of woman he wanted to see walking down the aisle toward him,
and who would grow old with him long after he took off his Trident.

He submitted his resignation paperwork the next day.

Minutes passed before Maddox even realized he’d obliterated
three of the dressing rooms and his suit was now covered in drywall dust. The
Captain was standing behind him, probably looking at him with pity in his eyes.
Maddox sure as hell wasn’t going to turn around to see that.

Joe’s voice was calm, almost soothing, completely
incongruent to his overall unapproachable nature.

“There are no signs that tell a man when it’s his time to
get out. Damn, I wish there were. All those idiots running around in this world
pretending to be psychics. If even half of them were the real thing, I figure
I’d have been to a lot fewer funerals.”

“Well, I saw a sign. I saw two of them,” Maddox said, the
images of Becca and Brandon coming to mind. “And I’ll be damned if I’m going to
be the second SEAL in this family to put someone through the pain of burying
someone they love.”

“It took its toll on you—being there for Becca when I
wasn’t. It’s a toll I should have paid, not you.”

“She’s a strong woman. She would have made it even if I
hadn’t been there, so don’t give me too much credit.”

“Well, I’m giving you credit anyway. And for this.” Joe’s
arms outstretched slightly, looking around at the space. “This never would have
happened if you hadn’t taken the lead on it.”

Maddox cracked a smile. “I don’t know if that’s something
you should be thanking me for or hating me for right now,” Maddox chuckled.

“I’ll thank you. My sister’s moving out here. I hated them
being in Arizona with no family near. Even when I’m TDY, Vi will be here to
help with Brandon.”

“And me. Every mission needs to be at least three deep, Sir.
Or so someone once told me.”

Joe smiled, recollection in his eyes. “Well, the back-up is
appreciated. And if you need anything—more money for this place, more
equipment, more space—you only have to say the word.”

“Nah, financially, we’re doing great. With so many partners
on this, I think we’re the only new business that isn’t scraping for funds.”

“Well, just remember it anyway. I owe you. Those aren’t
words I say often and I don’t take them lightly. Vi and I are doing well. We
can stand to sink more money into a good investment or two, and I know Vi would
say the same thing if she were standing here. So if you need anything, just
call.”

***

Standing in front of five small bowls of batter, Bridget
poured the toffee chips into one of them. She cocked her head, thinking, then
reached for a handful of strawberries and tossed them in, too.

Maddox sauntered in, dressed to kill in a suit that fit his
wide frame like it was tailor-made just for him. She doubted it was, especially
after he joked this morning about how the best thing about Navy life was that
he never had to wear a suit.

Too bad, because him in a suit was a feast for the eyes.

“Hi! Don’t you look gr—wait a minute.” She squinted as
she looked at him. “What’s that white stuff all over you?”

“Drywall dust.”

“Drywall dust?”

“Yeah. I took the Captain over to the space after we signed
the paperwork and I tore a couple walls down.”