SEAL's Promise - Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 01 (19 page)

One of the young volunteers put her palm to her lips. The doctor picked up the floor phone and started calling, and several people looked at their cells.

“There are bloody handprints to the door on Floor Two, in the stairway.” T.J. exchanged glances with Tyler. “Holy shit, the guy we passed at the side entrance—he was covered in blood.”

The charge nurse ran for the desk and began dialing the phone. “I’m calling security. You two are gonna wait right here.”

The doctor interrupted her. “Already got through. They’ve had an altercation but everything’s quiet.”

“What about Shannon?” T.J. asked.

The nurse kept the phone to her ear. “She’s fine. Probably wide awake by now. Are you satisfied?”

“Not until I see her.”

“You carrying—
yes—
this is Four South, are we anticipating a lockdown or emergency? I see. When did that happen?”

T.J. walked briskly toward Shannon’s room, but the charge nurse raised her voice, cupping the phone. “Hey. Hey. You wait right here. You can just sit and wait.” She hung up the phone.

“No can do, Ma’am,” T.J. said as he walked backwards, holding his hands out to the sides, palms up. T.J. and Tyler were in the room before she could stop them.

Shannon was sitting up, looking a much better shade of pink. Even without makeup, she was beautiful.

“I knew when I heard all the shouting that somehow, my T.J. was involved.” Almost as an aside she said, “Hi there, Tyler.” She re-directed her focus to T.J. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just checking on you. That’s all.”

“So what’s with the altercation with the nurses?”

Tyler poked his head out into the hallway, then stared back at T.J. and shrugged. “Security must be pretty busy. Don’t see a soul.”

“Security?” Her frown leveled on T.J. “What have you done?”

“Nothing. Look, there’s been a terrorist attack on the family of a Marine. It’s all over the news.”

Shannon picked up the clicker, and all three of them watched the announcer give a special report as again pictures of the hospital emergency room filled the background of the screen.

“…
by the Middle Eastern America group, with sympathetic ties to certain radical elements in Iraq and Pakistan. In recent weeks, the government and local law enforcement teams have been stepping up their security measures following the threat of attacks against our military men and women. In this particular case, we understand Mr. Cole was in Washington working on a bill that would help military veterans and their families. He’s been an outspoken advocate for at-risk youths in our community and helped to foster and sponsor many charity events here.”

A photo of Magnus Cole in his Marine uniform was shown next.

“Shit!” Tyler blurted out. “Who gave them permission to give out all that information?”

“T.J., he’s in the news all the time. It’s what he’s been doing,” said Shannon. “Even I feel like I know him, and I’ve never met him.”

T.J. was seething. He was fisting and unfisting his hands, grinding his jaw. He desperately wanted to throw something.

A passage from his least favorite book in school, a book he was forced to read in three different high schools that year,
A Tale of Two Cities
, came to mind:

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‡

K
YLE FINISHED HIS
briefing with most of the other LPOs of SEAL Team 3, some of the Senior Chiefs who were stateside from Team 3, several Lieutenant Commanders and the top three Naval Intelligence officers at Coronado. Kyle had never met those guys, as they tended to keep a very low profile.

What struck him was that the task force was preparing for this day, yet nothing special had drifted down to the SEAL teams not on deployment. They were focusing on methods of ensuring that military families were being protected. It was also discussed that perhaps the perps were a pair of unknown lone wolves with an axe to grind, a local disgruntled recruit or two who had been forcibly DOR’d or had some beef with the military. This idea was roundly rejected. The method of the second assailant’s death and the claim of responsibility made it pretty clear there was a Middle Eastern connection.

Then he learned the details of the attack. The first assailant was in the process of going after the youngest of the three children with a knife, when Mrs. Cole fired point blank with one of the couple’s five loaded handguns. The other assailant was run off the property and blew himself up in the middle of rush hour traffic on a busy neighborhood expressway, injuring multiple drivers but without further loss of life except his own. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the terrorist was looking to make a splash on the evening news, and he got his wish, although Kyle hoped he was enjoying his time in hell without the virgins and would never know the bitter fruit he had spawned.

He called Christy, hearing the screams of little children, Brandon the loudest amongst them, and several women conversing quietly so Christy could talk to her husband, their husbands’ boss. There wasn’t any laughter as would normally occur at such a gathering.

Upon hearing the children in the background, he thought of the Cole children he’d met at a Christmas fundraiser last year.

“How are you doing, Kyle?” That was his Christy. Always watching out for him. Right in his face, asking the tough question. God, he loved her strength. She was going to be a great help to the other wives and girlfriends.

“It’s bad. You saw the news?”

“Well, of course, until the kids and others began to arrive. Phone’s been going nonstop. Kyle, they put T.J.’s picture on the TV, right next to Magnus’s.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Remember that run they did last year for the Warrior Foundation? Someone dug up a photo of the two of them together.”

Kyle knew it wouldn’t take long for the facial recognition software to find T.J.’s name and publish that, too. He wondered if the news media had any idea how they had put his guys in jeopardy. On days like today, he felt like the war was being lost.

And then he adjusted his attitude. It wasn’t lost, because he was still alive, and he’d die protecting the ones he loved. It was the same deal whether at home or overseas. They never left anyone behind, and they wouldn’t hesitate to save the lives of others, even at great personal cost. It was what he signed on for.

“I’m coming home. I gotta get hold of T.J. first. I think Shannon is at that hospital.”

“Oh my God. Should I go over there?”

“Absolutely not. Stay home. Keep everyone there. See if you can have the gals get hold of their husbands. I’m going to call a meeting for Charlie Company. No one else, though. No one is to talk to family, except to answer direct calls to their phones. No details. Just reassure people they’re okay. Don’t do anything to attract attention, and if the fucking news media arrives on our doorstep, make sure you call me right away and don’t, whatever you do, answer the door.”

“What’s going on? Why is this happening?”

“Because they can’t win. So they’ll cause as much pain as they can. They can’t get us, so they’ll target the families.”

Kyle let Christy absorb everything he’d said.

“Any questions?”

“No. I love you.”

“Love you too, babe. Gotta be extra vigilant. Better to plan than not be prepared, right?”

“Roger that.”

Kyle snickered. “Cute. I like it better when you say that in bed.”

“Well come home at a decent hour, and I’ll give you a repeat performance.”

“Now that’s worth living for, trust me. Okay, Christy, gotta go.”

“Love you. And Kyle?”

“Yes?”

“You’re right, they won’t win. Maybe this was what we needed as a country to wake up to the real world. You guys do too good a job making it so we don’t have to think about it. Only fair that we have to share in some of the risk. I signed on for that when I married you. I’m still solid with that decision.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

‡

S
HANNON’S CONCERN OVER
Courtney’s condition had lessened, but she began to worry about the darkness that seemed to descend around T.J. involving his feelings towards his father. It worried her that he had no use for his own family. She wondered if love alone was enough to heal his pain, and how much of this pain would become part of her life.

She also knew he wasn’t going to be able to come to her, that it would be her job to cross that ocean, prove to herself that she could handle T.J.’s intensity. Frankie had been easy to love, like her dad. But T.J.’s black mood was completely foreign to her, and she felt inadequate and more than a little afraid.

The meds they’d given her were really beginning to kick in. She wanted to talk to T.J. when she wasn’t so distracted with the pain she could hardly think. She wanted him to go home, and come back rested so he could be fully present to her and Courtney. He needed to be able to feel her love.

Tyler and T.J. had gone into the hallway to talk to security. She should have paid attention, but now she didn’t want to meddle. She had to trust him. The emergency C-section had scared her. But the possibility of losing her man, again, scared her even more. She remembered the folly of thinking she wanted to raise her child on her own. What a stupid idiot she’d been. She was lucky T.J. was so insistent, that he’d made that promise to Frankie, that although Frankie wasn’t perfect, he had the foresight to make T.J. make that promise. He knew perhaps better than anyone else did, that if T.J. promised, he would keep his word.

But that didn’t mean T.J. would be able to make it smooth for her, despite what he might say. It was her job to toughen up, match him in every way. In grief and in joy. There would come a time when T.J. would need her as much as she needed him now, and she vowed to be there for him.

Just like the men on SEAL Team 3 he served with so honorably, the guys Frankie would rather spend time with than anyone else in the whole world, she’d never give up. She’d go to her grave trying to give T.J. what he so richly deserved. It wasn’t about sex. It wasn’t about being comfortable, staying out of trouble or any of the things she thought about that day when she married Frankie. It was all about being the best kind of woman she could be, rocking T.J.’s world and making sure he understood he was loved with every cell in her body. Was loved like he’d never been loved before, just like the words to her favorite song.

She would love the stuffing right out of him and heal all his sharp edges in the meantime.

Shannon wiped her cheeks just as T.J. and Tyler came into the room. “Everything go okay out there? I notice you didn’t get carted away.”

The joke fell flat. Tyler looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Tyler, can I have a word with my intended?” she asked. She liked that T.J. looked shocked. It wasn’t joy, but she’d take it anyway.

Tyler wiggled his eyebrows. “You guys okay if I take a cab home? I’m kinda missing Kate right now.”

“I’ll drive you,” T.J. said.

“No, he’ll take a cab, because right now I need to talk to you, T.J. But we’ll pay for it, right?” she said as she looked at T.J.’s puzzled expression.

“No worries, guys,” Tyler said. “And congratulations! I think the ladies are arranging a visit tomorrow. Best to get some one-on-one time before the crowd arrives. Later, Talbots.” He winked at the reference to a marriage that hadn’t yet occurred.

“Sit here, hon.” She patted the bed where she’d slid her legs to the side to give him room. The hospital springs squealed as he sat his frame down but avoided eye contact. “Tell me,” she whispered, and then took his hand.

He allowed her to thread her fingers through his. She rubbed her thumb over his in a gentle massage. He watched in what appeared to be detached silence. The electric, erotic trance their touch usually created was missing. T.J. was in a deep freeze.

“Tell me,” she said again, softly, this time touching his arm and gently rubbing up and down.

He stiffened, sat up straight, stuck his chest out and inhaled. Then he released her fingers and sat with his arms crossed, again not making any eye contact with her.

She was going to wait all night. It wasn’t her place to speak up or ask him again. Twice was enough. She had to trust him. She watched the dark brown curls that were forming at his temples and behind his ears. His face in profile could have been the bust of an Native American Chief. She loved his broad nose and full lips, his leathered skin peppered with black stubble. She wanted to touch the dimple at the base of his chin, then kiss it softly as she’d done so many times. Shannon recalled what it felt like to lay her ear against his strong torso and marvel at his heart beating strong and true. He was a complicated package of strength and softness. He could be so fearless, like the day he’d hung those words on Courtney’s bedroom wall, pulling his heart out and handing it over like an innocent trusting youth. Or, he could be shut down, like tonight.

The more he tried to be strong, the more she could see the soft, sensitive side of him. Why had she never seen these things before? Of course he would love her baby like his own. He was the kind of man who would love her more than he’d love his own life.

He’d been holding his breath, but this time he closed his eyes and let it all out. When he opened them again and looked down at her, some of the spark was back. Just a little, but enough for now.

“My dad is dying and wants me to come visit him.”

“You talked to him?” She could feel his tension filling the room, and it scared her.

“No, I talked to the inmate liaison, or whatever he’s called. The guy told me he has less than a week to live.”

“Then you need to go see him.”

T.J. stood, his hands in his jeans pocket. “I’m not doing that. I’m not letting that fucking man into my life. He didn’t want me. Well, I sure as hell don’t need him.”

“Except that you would regret it your whole life, T.J.”