vittanos willow (21 page)

friend. This is my sister.”

A toothy smile was turned on Chantoya. “My…my…my name

Hoang.” He looked to Binh for approval.

CJ offered her hand and said, “It is nice to meet you. My name is

CJ.” She spoke slowly so he could understand her clearly, not condes-

cendingly.

“Read?” His wide-eyed innocent stare melted her heart.

“I would love to.” She took the book from his hand and looked

at the title. It was a torn and old copy of Dr. Seuss’s
One Fish, Two Fish,

Red Fish, Blue Fish
. “Oh this is one of my favorite books.”

“You come. Read.” Hoang pulled her along to the stool.

CJ met Binh’s amused gaze as she neglected to sit on the stool,

opting instead to sit on the dirt floor like the other children. She greeted

them in Vietnamese and then began reading to them in English.

CJ closed the book and glanced up to see her brother and a pe-

tite woman standing there watching her. The woman was a head

shorter than her brother, and she had a beautiful face, her features

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Aliyah Burke

striking. In seconds, CJ knew she was of mixed heritage with skin a

similar shade to her own.

She had full lips and thick, sooty lashes that framed her large

eyes. But it was her hair that grabbed CJ’s attention. It was a soft afro;

and the way it fanned her head was nothing short of exotic.

A smile crossed her face as she pushed up off the floor, dusted

her jeans off and stuck out her hand. “Hi! I’m CJ.”

CJ saw the emotions that flashed through the brown eyes of the

woman beside her brother. After a slight hesitation, a small hand,

roughened from years of hard work, reached out to grasp her own.

“Hello. I’m Lan, Lan Nguyen.”

Chantoya sent her another smile. “It is so nice to meet you.”

“Read, read, read!” Young voices chanted beside her.

Binh stepped up. “I’ll read you something.” His eyes flickered

between his sister and Lan. “You two take a break.”

CJ shook her head with amusement. “I think that is my brother’s

way of telling us to get to know one another.”

Lan walked away with her. After they were far enough away

that Binh couldn’t overhear, she asked, “Is he truly your brother?”

“Yes.” CJ didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Why? What did he

say I was?”

“His sister, but…” she trailed off, looking embarrassed.

“We look nothing alike.” CJ was used to the doubt about her

family.

Lan nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“Well, trust me, we are. Tell me about you. What do you do?” CJ

sent her another encouraging smile.

Lan returned the smile this time, allowing Chantoya to witness

its full power.

It took some convincing, but CJ finally persuaded Lan to have

dinner with her and Binh, citing she wanted to speak with her more and

she would be leaving the next day. Everyone had a lovely time; and

hours later, CJ returned to her room after dinner with Lan’s promise to

write, leaving the couple alone.

The next morning, she was packing when the knock came to her

door. It was Binh.

“So?” he asked as he walked in uninvited.

“Come on in,” she snorted. He crossed his arms and stared her

down. “I like her, Binh. I like her a lot.”

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139

A faint tint filled his cheeks. “Me too.” Binh crossed the room

and kissed her on the top of her head. “Thank you…for being so won-

derful to her.”

“Do the others know?”

“They have their suspicions,” Binh admitted.

“I bet they do,” CJ muttered. Her brothers were tenacious.

“Are you ready to go?” Binh questioned, glad the attention was

off him for the moment.

Chantoya smiled as she nodded her head. She knew he was try-

ing to keep the attention off him and Lan. “Ready.” Sliding her hand

through her hair, CJ thought of Osten and sobered. Where was their

relationship? Was there even one anymore?

Binh picked up her suitcase and walked to the door. Before

opening it, he turned back to her and said, “He’s waiting for you,

Chipmunk. Don’t give up on him so quickly.”

“You, either, big bro, you either.” CJ smiled at him as she

grabbed her carry-on prior to preceding him out the door.

“I don’t plan on it,” Binh vowed.

During the last leg of her trip home, CJ dreamed of the one who

had infiltrated her hearts. Osten was alive and well in CJ’s dreams and

they were both very happy.

A tired CJ got off the plane and headed for baggage claim. Her

vacation had been wonderful; but to be honest, she was totally looking

forward to a night in her own bed.

“You okay, Baby Boy?” the question was sincere as the man ask-

ing it stopped and waited for an answer.

Osten grumbled, “I’m fine, Merlin, fine.” He limped up to where

his teammate waited for him. His eyes traveled over his friend; he could

easily pick up on the desire to tease him lurking behind the concern.

Golden eyes flickered with humor. “Good, ’cause if you weren’t

I would seriously have to find the corpsman who bandaged you and

kick his ass.”

Brown eyes narrowed; Osten was the corpsman. “Yeah, you do

that. Just remember that the next time something goes wrong with your

explosives…don’t come crawling to me.”

Dimitri “Merlin” Melonakos laughed outright. “The next time,

don’t you mean the first time?”

“Cocky bastard,” Osten griped with good humor.

“Just that good, baby. I’m just that good.” Dimitri smiled as he

slung his bag over his shoulder with ease.

“Damn Greek.” Osten hobbled along. His ankle had gotten

sprained this last mission. Almost bad enough for crutches, but Osten

was determined not to need them.

“Fuckin’ Italian,” Dimitri muttered back with the same amount

of love in his voice.

The men ribbed each other, but there was no way on earth they

wouldn’t be there for their teammates one hundred percent when the

time came. They each had a family outside of the Team, but the Team

was their family as well.

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The duo headed for the hangar they were flying out from. It was

time to head home. They’d been gone over Christmas and New Year’s.

Guess it’s a good thing CJ didn’t stay home and hope I would be around.

Just the thought of Chantoya Jackson was enough to quicken his

step. Beside him, Osten heard Dimitri chuckle. “
Stronzo!
” Osten bit off

as he kept on going.

That only made Dimitri laugh harder. He might be Greek, but

Dimitri also spoke Italian. “You have no idea,” he said lightheartedly.

Osten grunted his displeasure but held his tongue, for they had

arrived where the rest of the group waited. The others took one look at

his face and burst out laughing.

“What the hell did he say to you, Baby Boy?” Maverick asked.

“
Nessuna cosa,
” Osten replied without thinking.

“Okay,” Maverick said, “I guess I should be asking you, Merlin.

What the hell did you say to him to make him forget we don’t all speak

Italian?”

Osten glanced at the tall Native American on the Team. He

stood there, arms crossed, waiting for an answer. And while his ques-

tion may have been directed at Merlin, his unwavering stare was right

on Osten.

He just shrugged, opting to stay quiet. Unfortunately for him,

Merlin had no intentions of letting it go. “Oh I just asked him how he

was doing, that’s all.”

Osten cut his dark-brown eyes over to his friend. Dimitri stood

there with an angelic look on his handsome face. With an eye roll, Osten

looked away. Dimitri had a knack for appearing all innocent, it was one

of the reasons he was so good at what he did.

Lucky for Osten, the rest of the men were well aware of Dimi-

tri’s talent of doing such a trick and the scoffs of disbelief brought a

smile to his face. Osten snorted and walked over to a bench that was in

front of some lockers and sat down to take the weight off his ankle.

His eyes took a glance over his team. He was the shortest mem-

ber on the team, but at five-eight, he was okay with that. It was part of

the reason Osten had acquired the nickname “Baby Boy.”

A few of the members kept their hair cut within military regula-

tions; but since they were a SEAL Team, they were allowed to have

more leeway with that rule. As for himself, his hair reached his neck but

was styled nicely, Dimitri’s was shaggy and unkempt looking, Aidrian

was completely bald, and a few had high-n-tides, a Marine cut.

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Aliyah Burke

He grinned as he saw the beards Aidrian, Tyson, and Scott

sported, knowing full well that two of them would be clean-shaven

before their transport even landed back in the States. Osten allowed his

fingers to travel over the five o’clock shadow he’d had for a while now.

A chuckle escaped him as he realized he would be shaving as well.

A quick glance at his watch told him there were twenty minutes

before they were scheduled to leave. Stretching out his legs before him,

Osten looked down at the dusty, dark-blue BDUs he wore and the mud-

covered boots. His ankle throbbed and he closed his eyes to grab a

catnap, the friendly banter from his teammates washing over him.

Smack!

The feeling of a wet shirt hitting him in the face jolted Osten out

of his slumber. Knowing better than to jump up and demand an an-

swer, Osten cracked open his eyes.

Tyson and Aidrian stood there watching him with blank expres-

sions. “Time to go already?” Osten questioned, pretending a shirt never

hit him, knowing full well they wanted a response.

“Just waiting on you, pretty boy,” Tyson stated without missing

a beat.

“Funny,” Osten replied as he got up and gingerly tested his

weight on his ankle before allowing it to take more. “That’s what Jayde

said—she’s always been waiting on a man like me.” He grinned as a

scowl crossed Tyson’s face. “Hope you aren’t too disappointed when

your kid looks like me.”

Tyson ran his hand over his head and leveled his hazel eyes at

his teammate. “Good thing you know the basics of doctoring. That way,

when I kick your ass, you can bandage yourself up.”

Osten shouldered his bag and smirked. “Well, now that I’m in-

jured, at least you have a fighting chance—!”

Whap!

Another soaking shirt hit Osten in the neck this time.

“What is Jayde gonna say when you have no clothes in your

possession?” Osten taunted as he dropped the shirt on the ground and

deliberately walked on it.

Aidrian arched a brow as he looked back at Tyson. The second

Osten relaxed his guard, he, too, whipped a shirt that scored a direct hit

on the young corpsman. Masculine laughter filled the open hanger as

before long it turned into a battle.

Eight men froze at the piercing whistle that had suddenly

ripped through the room.

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143

“I know y’all don’t harbor the notion of climbing on
my
plane

looking like that!”

The Megalodon Team blinked once before each of them smiled

boyishly

“Nice to see you, sir,” Scott yelled back as he stood and helped

the man nearest him up. Then he jogged over and shut off the water.

“Working hard, I see,” the pilot commented as his co-pilot

handed out towels as the men walked up the stairs.

Wiping a towel over his face, Scott nodded. “Just trying to get

the dirt off us, before we get home.”

Rich Meckler, a retired Rear Admiral, just rolled his eyes. He

was extremely proud of this group of men. They were all sons to him.

His gaze narrowed as he noticed the last man coming up the stairs was

limping, though almost indiscernibly.

“What happened?” he questioned as the man moved past him.

“Had a disagreement with a bunch of logs,” Osten said shaking

his head.

Rich understood. He and his copilot made sure the luggage was

secured and soon, the Cessna Citation Sovereign was taxing back down

the runway and lifting into the sky.

The flashing light on his answering machine was not anything

Osten wanted to deal with. None of the messages could be from Chan-

toya, for he had her number forwarded to his cell; and before he had

even gotten on the plane, he’d checked for any message from her.

Nothing. This meant they were from his family and he just wanted to

see CJ, hold her in his embrace, and kiss her full, sweet lips.

Osten carried his bag back to his bedroom. Regardless of his de-

sire to do other things, he always made sure to repack his bag so it was

ready to go at a moment’s notice. As he pulled out torn shirts, he

realized it was time to go shopping. Twenty minutes later, his bag

restocked and in the closet just waiting for the call, Osten walked out of

his apartment and left.

He wore a dark blue button-down shirt tucked into pressed

black slacks. A black leather belt helped to accentuate the narrowness of