SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle (49 page)

“Your pain meds! I’ll be right back.” She jumped up and went to the kitchen.

“A glass of water and couple of Tylenol is all I need,” he called to her.

“I’ll bring you something to eat too.” Ysabeau picked up a vial and tapped out a two pills into her palm. She mashed them up with a spoon and dropped the powder into his warming chicken broth. Vicodin, not Tylenol.

He should rest and she needed time to sort this mess out.

*

Luke’s eyes were
so heavy he could barely keep them open. Apparently, he was more exhausted than he knew.

“I’mmm so sleeeepy,” he slurred. His tongue felt huge in his mouth. If he wasn’t so relaxed, he might be worried that he was stroking out.

“Why don’t you rest?” Ysabeau said.

His eyes shut. He didn’t know he was asleep until he saw her.

Soli.

So healthy and alive. Her black hair draped her back like a silk shawl. He loved her hair. He used to enjoy brushing those silken strands before the chemo did its damage and her hair fell out in clumps.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said to her. The old warmth spread through his core. “Twice in one day. I could get used to this.”

“Oh, Luke.” The lines between her eyes deepened like they did when she was worried. “You did not listen to me.”

His heart squeezed. She was right. In the beginning, when she first started getting sick, he hadn’t listened. She complained of being tired, he told her to rest. When she moaned in her sleep, he cradled her in his arms and chalked it up to dreaming about her rough childhood in Bogota, Colombia. Bruises formed on the delicate side of her arms, and he gently kissed around them while teasing her about being klutzy. Her cough went on too long, and he hounded her about taking vitamin C.

His wife had cancer, and he hadn’t listened. He’d continued his tours with the SEALs, leaving her alone.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. The words rumbled through his soul. He’d be sorry for the rest of his miserable life.

She floated closer to him. “I worry about you,
mi amor
.”

He smiled. He always loved it when she spoke Spanish to him. “I’m okay. It only hurts when I sing.”

It was a running joke. Luke couldn’t sing.

She placed her palms on his cheeks. He inhaled sharply. He could feel her! Sweet Lord, he could feel her.

He took all of her in—the curve of her cheeks, her perfect nose, eyes as dark as midnight, sparkling brighter than the stars. He craved more. “I miss you.”

“Please listen to me this time. Go home. Do not wait,” she whispered in his ear.

He pulled back. His heart jackhammered in his chest. “Sunny? Are you telling me our little girl—?”

She pressed her finger to his lips. “Not Sunny. You are in danger, Luke. Leave. Quickly.”

“I’m dying without you, Soli. Please don’t go.”

She kissed his lips gently, like a sweet breath. “Live,
mi amor
. For me. For our daughter. Live.”

And suddenly she was gone.

*

Ysabeau left a
note on the table telling Luke she would be back as soon as she could. He was sleeping soundly, and she figured she had a few hours to go to work before he woke up. She tiptoed out of the house, closing the door softly behind her.

In the car she thought about the man on her couch. She wanted to hate him, but something about him—his haunted eyes?—drew her to him. As a soldier, he must have witnessed awful things. Her heart actually hurt for him, which was stupid since he probably didn’t care one iota for her since he’d come to close her down. Well, she wouldn’t let him do that.

She had a plan to buy her clinic a little extra time. But Tico wasn’t going to like it.

Ysabeau hurried into the clinic, passing by the receptionist. A twinge of sadness washed over her that Deolina was no longer at the front desk. Having the great Vodun of Petro in the building gave her patients courage to fight death. Oh, who was she kidding?
She
felt better when Deo and Grann were around. Both women were living legends. They made her brave, stronger.

“When Tico comes in, please tell him to see me at once,” Ysabeau said to the receptionist, who wasn’t a great Voodoo priestess, of light or dark.

“Yes, Doctor,” the woman replied.

Ysabeau hustled into the lab and started her work.

“You wanted to see me, Doc?” Tico leaned against the door. He didn’t meet her eyes or step his Air Jordans inside the lab.

She rose from her desk and came to him. “Are you still in contact with the gang members?”

“No, Doc. I gave all that up. Like I promised.” His focus was firmly locked on the linoleum tiles.

She leaned against the door and clicked her pen. “Didn’t look like that to me.”

“I told you, I had good reason.”

“And that was…?”

He nervously chewed on his bottom lip. “Can’t say.”

“Because Deolina told you not to.”

He played with the door handle. His full lips were firmly pressed together.

“Fine. You have your reasons. I have mine. Return all of the American’s things. The laptop, cell phone, luggage…whatever you and your buddies stole, I want back,” she spoke softly.

“Aw, Ysabeau, you know I can’t do that.” He was looking at her now, the whites of his eyes growing by the second. “Those guys don’t do returns.”

Her anger rumbled under the softness in her voice. “Here’s what I know, my friend. Hurting the Guardian was a big mistake. He gives the clinic money so that I can save lives. No Guardian. No clinic. Patients die.”

“Oh. I didn’t know. Sorry, Doc.”

“This is why you shouldn’t attack anyone, Tico. Innocent people get hurt. One day, it could be you.”

He dragged the toe of his shoe across the floor like a kid does when he’s in trouble. “Are you mad at me?”

She sighed. “I care about you. Please don’t do this to me anymore. My heart can’t take it.”

He grinned. “I promise.”

“Good. I understand that getting the Guardian’s things back will take time. In fact, the more time the better.”

He scratched at his jaw. “Huh?”

“It would be best if you bring each item back one at a time. The cell, luggage, computer. Save his passport and airline tickets to the last. Stretch it out.”

“Aw, doc. I’m not sure I can return any of it.”

“Try. It’s life or death for my patients.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “You can do it.”

“I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. For you.”

She hugged him. “You can start by returning the watch on your arm.”

He glanced down at his wrist. “Aw, man. It’s a Rolex Submariner. Do you know how much this thing is worth?”

“Bring it by my house tonight.”

Tico’s jaw nearly unhinged. “You mean I’ve got to see him face-to-face?”

“What better way to apologize? Besides, for my plan to work, he has to believe that you are really trying to get his things back. You’ll be buying me time.”

“What if the dude presses charges? I won’t survive two days in jail.” His head swung and his eyes glanced wildly about the room as if it was booby-trapped with police. “I’m not going back there.”

She frowned. “I don’t think he’ll call the police as long as you explain the situation and promise to return his stuff.”

“You sure?”

She hadn’t been sure about a single thing lately. But she had a feeling about the Guardian, one she didn’t dare try to explain to Tico. “Bring the watch tonight without a scratch on it.”

*

Luke woke up
in a fog. Forgetting he was injured, he shook his head to clear his brain. Pain rolled through him like a dull blade. He clutched his head and sat up too quickly.

The ribs.

Holding his head with one hand and his side with the other, he put his feet on the floor and stood. The fog closed in tighter and tighter around his eyes. Thinking he was going blind, he started to run toward the bathroom and collided with the substantial burl wood table. The toe-breaker.

SweetmotherofGod!

“Ysabeau?” He groaned.

There was no answer.

He stumbled, hopped on his good leg, and dragged his hand along as he made his way down his narrow corridor of sight toward the bathroom. Flipping on the light, he peered into the mirror and got the shock of his life.

“Whoa.” He was death warmed over in a woman’s pink robe.

Turning his head to the side, he gaped at the weird purple horn sticking out of his temple. Man, that sucker looked like it hurt. Gently, he pressed on it and winced. It did hurt, but not as bad as it should. He didn’t know what to make of that.

He continued his visual exploration of the strange landscape that used to be his face.

Scrapes and bruises decorated his whiskered cheeks. His nose wasn’t broken. The half-a-dozen blue sutures above his eyebrow surprised him. Ysabeau must have stitched him up while he was out cold. His leg looked good too. She’d done a good job patching him up. She would make a good corpsman. Touching the tip of his tongue to his split lip, he tasted dried blood. It turned his stomach.

A flashback roared out of nowhere…the metallic taste filling his mouth…killing pain…the bastards punching him harder, harder, laughing as his blood pooled in the street. Gunshots zinging around his head, pinging off the car door he’d taken cover behind. Iraq.

“Get down!” Lieutenant Commander Mack Riley’s voice exploded in his ear. The other kid crouched next to him was…Davis? David? Strange, he couldn’t remember the name of the marine who’d taken the bullet meant for him. Blood poured out of the man’s neck. Luke rolled him over. His eyes were glassy. Dead.

Luke started to shake. Closing his eyes, he willed the horror away. Hell, he thought he’d detonated that memory long ago, but PTSD was a son of a bitch with long-reaching tentacles.

It’s over. I’m okay
,
I’m okay
, he chanted through clenched teeth. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.
I’m fine
.

He opened his eyes and was relieved that there was no blood in sight. Ysabeau had cleaned him up well.

Still, he looked like hell. Both eyes were black and blue, the right one watery and half-open, the left one, huh. He leaned in and looked closer at his enlarged pupils.

“She drugged me?”

His puffy eyes narrowed. Even though he couldn’t tell Ysabeau the truth about why he didn’t want to take painkillers, she didn’t buy his superficial reasons. She must have slipped the drugs into his soup.

Why?

‡