Chapter 2
2
After Bear left, D-Day switched the water to hot and took a long, drawn-out breath as the heat helped with some of the pain. He washed off the dirt, grime, and blood, chastising himself over and over. He’d never missed a briefing, and the fact that he’d been out of it and his teammates had to cover for him, was a rude wake-up call. It was a shot of hard, cold reality.
He had to acknowledge that Zorro had been right. He’d been looking for a fight, needed to get his face slammed against something hard. As it was, Hickey hadn’t been much of a challenge, the fucking cowardly bully. And he didn’t know Sara would be in the mix, but he couldn’t regret being there for her. If he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure what would have happened to her. Whatever brought him to Avery had saved her life.
Those people had called him a hero. They wanted to give him a fucking parade . He groaned softly and gritted his teeth, the thought of being exposed to that many people and activity warring with his need for solitude. He wasn’t used to all this hullabaloo. His team was usually in and out before anyone even knew they were there. He much preferred it that way. But as his father always liked to point out, he made his bed, now he had to lie in it.
The same with his six brothers downstairs. He had to face the music and extricate himself from the fucking mess he’d made without blowing his relationship with them. It was going to be a tricky song and dance. There was no way D-Day could tell them the real truth, one he’d tried to bury for their sakes.
He turned off the water and got out, grabbing up a towel and drying himself off, careful over his face and knuckles. Six hours… Joker was sure to notice the state he was in. He faced himself in the mirror, remembering that he had said goodbye to Helen six months ago after Buck’s wedding reception.
He closed his eyes, the memory of him pounding into her in that dark corner of the horse stall as vivid as the night it shouldn’t have happened. The memory turned his pulse thick and heavy, his breathing suddenly erratic.
Realizing what he was doing, his eyes popped open, the guilt rushing back, surging even harder. He couldn’t get to the airport fast enough, knowing that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, that he wasn’t only giving her up but Buck’s whole family, the cowboy way, that amazing ranch. His chest got tight, and his throat constricted. He swallowed hard several times, the emotions swamping him.
In Wyoming he’d been accepted for who he was, no strings attached, no preconceived notions…okay, he was perceived as a greenhorn, but that was true, and…he swallowed hard again…unconditional love from them all. He couldn’t risk going back there, ever. That crushing pain surged as hard as the guilt, mixing together until his mouth was so dry that a whole bottle of tequila couldn’t quench it.
He braced his hands on either side of the sink and dropped his head, working at stalling the ache that kept spreading, a desperate feeling making him grip the sink tighter, his ribcage expanding and contracting. He had to wait until the nearly suffocating swell of emotion passed, but it didn’t, it just settled deeper into his bones, sinew, squeezing his heart with a rawness that hurt much more than any of his physical pain. He looked up into the mirror, blurred by the steam, distorted and unrecognizable, like a jumbled puzzle. He felt like a nowhere man…simply nowhere. D-Day bent his head and dragged his hand across his eyes, then inhaled raggedly, blinking back the stinging moisture. His physical pain would heal…he feared this kind of heartsick ache may fade, but never go away. He had no idea how much he would miss…everything…everyone…her.
Would there ever come a day when he could think about her without losing his shit? He opened the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of painkillers. His headache was still pounding away, and he had a mission he had to get to. All this faff wasn’t going to help in any way. It was time to shift gears, get back into warrior mode, and do what he did best.
He downed two tablets, then ran his hands through his hair. It had gotten way too long, and he was going to get shit about it, but he combed it back off his face, deciding that the rough look always worked best on a mission, and decided not to shave.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he left the bathroom and entered his bedroom. Bear and Professor were gone. He got a change of clothes out of his drawers—khaki pants, elastic at the ankle, black polo, and socks and underwear.
His jaw fixed in rigid lines, he pulled on the underwear and socks, then the pants, then he made an opening in the polo and slipped it over his head, tucking it into the pants, then threading his belt. At the door, he jammed his feet into a pair of stylish black combat boots.
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wall, a thousand emotions warring inside him. He didn’t want to want her, damn it. He didn’t want to get sucked back into that uncomfortable situation. But the image of her bleak face took shape in his mind.
Swearing angrily, he snatched up his go bag, along with a bomber-style windbreaker, black with an orange lining, and yanked open the bedroom door. He needed his frigging head examined.
Ramming his arms into the jacket while juggling the bag, he went down the stairs, anger and frustration building back up to dangerous levels. He dropped it near the door and entered the living room. His buddies were everywhere, and they were sending out their silent but deadly looks, all except Bear who just looked impassive. The sage son of a bitch.
He glared at Buck as he pulled open the fridge, grabbed three bottles of water, and twisted open the first one. Buck was sitting at his small table. “I know you’re the landlord, Buck, but a little courtesy would be appreciated,” he snapped.
Buck folded his arms and rocked back in his chair. “How the fuck would I have let you know I was going to use my key when you were wasted?”
He downed bottle one, then two, then the third one. He was definitely dehydrated and those would take the edge off. After the last gulp of the water, Zorro offered him a cup of coffee, which he ignored. Zorro set it on the counter, the porcelain making a heavy sound. “Fair point,” he growled.
“According to Zorro, you’ve had a tough night,” Buck said. There was a strange tightness in his chest as he watched Buck. D-Day studied his face for some clue as to what was going through his mind. His mouth was pulled into an unyielding line, and there was an unusual tenseness about him. D-Day had to wonder if it was his behavior that had put it there or was it something else…word from home? Helen ? His gut tightened. Fuck, he hoped everyone was all right. He wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the appropriate time.
“Yeah, jailbird,” Gator said. There were bird calls all over the room, from squawking to tweets to coos.
“Parade boy,” Professor said.
Several of them snickered.
He turned to glare at Zorro again, but the man wasn’t fazed. “Yeah, that’s right, kick the sidekick,” he groused. “We all know how much the guy behind the man has to suffer. Look at Robin, one of the best.”
His eyes narrowed, irritation flashing through him as Zorro struck a nerve. He was far from Batman—lost. So, he might have stepped in to protect Sara, but he wasn’t twisted up with any kind of vengeance—he never had been, even after what those boys had done to him in high school. It just wasn’t his thing. “Are you comparing me to Batman?” D-day asked, his voice low.
“If the cowl fits, caped crusader,” Zorro said with a grin. D-Day tried to relax. Zorro was often comic relief for the team, along with Blitz, but he sometimes didn’t mean to be funny.
“The cowl doesn’t fit, boy wonder.” Zorro had the audacity to grin at the iconic Robin reference.
“Wait a second, are you putting Robin number one, Zorro?” Professor asked, censure in his voice.
“Damn straight I am.”
“That’s bullshit,” Professor said.
“Okay, Rhodes Scholar, who’s your pick?”
“Sallah, he’s Indie’s right-hand guy. He has the perfect line. ‘Asps. Very dangerous.’ He’s giving Mr. Snake-phobic a head’s up.”
“He’s also the one that stepped aside and told Indie, ‘You go first.’” Zorro said snidely.
Some of the guys chuckled, and Professor shrugged. “A faithful and brutally honest companion.”
“Wait, you’ve got it all wrong,” Gator said. “It’s Barney.”
“That big, annoying purple dinosaur who loves everybody? I thought he was the main attraction,” Blitz asked.
“No, for chrissakes. Barney Fife…Mayberry RFD.”
That drew shouts of laughter.
“Hey, he always made Andy look good.”
“Nope, my money’s on Donkey,” Buck said. “He annoyed Shrek and everyone around him, but he was a tenacious and faithful guy.”
Gator said, “No…it’s Barney?—”
“That big, annoying purple dinosaur again?” Blitz asked with a frown.
Everyone groaned, including D-Day. How the fuck did they get on this topic? But he couldn’t complain because the heat was off him.
“No, Barney Rubble from the Flintstones .”
“You’re all wrong,” Bear said. “It’s Gromit. Loyal in every sense of the word. He’s righted Wallace’s wrongs through a jewel-thieving fugitive penguin, a sheep-rustling robot dog, and a fucking were-rabbit.”
“You would choose a dog,” Professor said with a smirk and Bear just grinned.
“I thought you’d say Tonto,” Blitz said.
Several of the guys threw their empty water bottles at him. “That’s offensive and racist,” Gator growled.
“No, it’s not,” Blitz said. “Tonto was one of the earliest Native Americans to act in a television show, and Bear is Native American. That’s something to celebrate.”
An argument erupted and Bear held up his hand. “Enough. It’s not offensive to me, and Blitz wouldn’t know a racist comment if it bit him in the ass. He’s just being sincere.”
Blitz bumped fists with Bear and grinned. “Yeah, the big man gets me.”
“At least someone does,” Gator said, rolling his eyes. Blitz shoved him off the couch.
“Yeah, right. We’re just a bunch of PC guys.”
“Don’t we have a plane to catch?” D-Day said, starting for the door, relieved that the topic had switched away from him.
“Wait…wait a second,” Buck said. “We’re not done here. What is up with you?”
“Chatty Kathy didn’t fill you in?” D-Day said, shooting Zorro a pointed glance. He just shrugged and looked innocent.
“We know what happened,” Buck said, his drawl getting thicker. “You haven’t been yourself for some time, D.”
“I’ve been dealing with some family issues that aren’t resolved and need more time to work through. I don’t have a better answer than that.” Technically, he hadn’t lied. His family was a problem for him, and he hadn’t processed everything that had happened to him in the past. He started for the door, then stopped. “Look, I’m sorry for missing the brief, and I’m sorry that this is affecting the team. I’m done with drinking…while on call. It won’t happen again, and thanks for covering for me with Joker.”
Buck kept his gaze on him, a familiar stubborn set to his jaw, the rest of his face obscured in the shadow of his Stetson. Shit was just about to get personal. “Guys, load up.”
“But Buck—” Zorro said.
“Load up or we’re going to be late. Go.”
There was a lot of grumbling, until Blitz stopped at the front door and turned back. “Who’s your fav sidekick, D?”
“Blitz—” Buck growled.
“It’s Piglet, Blitz. He’s timid, skittish, and self-conscious; Pooh is oblivious, adventurous, and rumbly-tumbly cute. They were practically made for each other, and he’s strong enough to pooh, pooh Winnie for being a ‘silly old bear.’ But when the chips are down or during a quiet moment, it’s Piglet that Pooh always turns to for support.”
“Wow, kind of like us, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Professor said, shoving Blitz through the door. “You’re rumbly-tumbly cute.”
“You take that back,” Blitz demanded, his voice fading.
“I think he’s more like Tigger—bouncy, clueless, and one of a kind,” Zorro said as the door closed.
“I heard that!” Blitz shouted.
“I work with a bunch of crazy eights,” Buck said. He sighed, stood up, and came over to D-Day. “Does this have anything to do with my sister?” Buck scrutinized him intently, his contemplative tone tinged with an undercurrent of tension.
“Which sister?” D-Day said, playing dumb, yet his desolation stripped him bare, washing him with a whole spectrum of emotion.
Buck’s eyes narrowed. “You know which sister.”
Playing it off like he wasn’t dying inside, he said way more nonchalantly than he felt, “Why would this have anything to do with her?”
The silence was so strained, so brittle, that D-Day felt it right down to his bones. His expression hardened, a glint of steel in his eyes, Buck finally scoffed. “Suit yourself.” The muscles of his jaw taut, his expression compressed into hard lines. He dragged his gaze away, releasing a heavy sigh. “Let’s go. We wouldn’t want to miss a troop movement.”
Too numb to respond with so many painful emotions churning around in him, he followed Buck out.
At the plane, he settled into one of the webbed seats, and closed his eyes, closed out all the noise, the stares, the speculation. He could only be glad to be deploying. If he was going to manage all this shit he was dealing with, he needed something physical to do, something where he could put his training, his aggression, and his body in gear and his thoughts into neutral.
That hollow feeling returned, and he was that nowhere man again, just shards, jumbled up, adrift, alone.
When D-Day woke up, his head and mood hadn’t changed much. He opened his eyes to the bare-bones interior of the C-130. His face and ribs were sore but manageable, at least compared to other injuries he’d experienced in his time as a defender of the downtrodden, and a SEAL.
His thoughts switched to the mission at hand, aware that he had no clue where they were or why, as he’d missed the initial brief. Overhead, the pounding sound of a downpour beat against the ceiling of the plane, sounding like a metallic roar, telling him that they were in for a miserable offload. He leaned over and said, “Where exactly are we?”
Zorro grinned. “Right, you were absent. Caracas.”
“Venezuela?”
“Yep. Tropical paradise, failed petrostate.”
“Why?”
“We’re getting involved in a transfer of diamonds for some powerful stolen military weapons. The ATF stumbled across the transaction, and we’re going to?—”
“Let’s move,” Joker said, grabbing his backpack. D-Day rose along with his teammates and gathered up their personal gear—the tactical gear and weapons were handled by an enlisted sailor—and started to make way to the huge offramp suddenly grinding open. Beyond the ramp, sheets of rain poured down out of the swollen clouds and splattered against the glossy black pavement of the tarmac. Thunder rumbled, lightning flashed, rain sweeping in, lifting his too-long hair, the smell of wet asphalt and dirt strong.
A memory stabbed at him. It had been raining in the field where they’d left him, bloody, aching inside and out, humiliated as the storm blew across the wet, slippery field, his shivering uncontrollable and pathetic. He’d tried to get loose, but the bonds on his hands and feet were punishingly strong. He had let down his guard, stupidly, and he’d been crushed by his own emotions, wanting something he couldn’t have, something that was out of his reach…something that scared him down to the bone…like Helen, something he wasn’t sure he could trust in again…himself.
He started to move toward the ramp, but Joker’s hand came out and pressed against his chest, stopping him.
“What the fuck happened to your face?” he asked in a cutting tone, scowling blackly, his gaze dipping down to D-Day’s knuckles.
“Boxing,” Zorro said quickly. “We went at it and things got out of hand.”
D-Day’s gut clenched at Zorro’s lie, once again cutting Joker out of the loop because he was their commanding officer, but D-Day knew it was because he didn’t want to deal with the fallout of his near-miss incarceration and the whole fight coming to light. There was a lot of regret and anxiety over how Joker would perceive it, even though he’d been protecting that young girl. That part he couldn’t regret.
“Do I look like a mushroom?” Joker asked.
“No, sir,” Zorro said.
“Then why are you feeding me shit?”
Neither of them said anything, then Zorro started. “Sir?—”
“Get off the plane, Zorro.” His buddy sent D-Day an apologetic glance, then obeyed. When Joker was in that kind of mood, he was unpredictable, and it didn’t bode well for his subordinates to get on that kind of bad side.
As soon as they were alone, Joker stepped closer. “I know something is going on with you. You look like shit, you’ve been drinking, something I know you don’t do, and there’s something behind your eyes I don’t like.”
“LT, I’m fine.” He had to remain numb; focusing on the job was going to get him through this rough patch.
“Like hell you are. You’re too hard on yourself, often pushing yourself even beyond a SEAL’s limits. You’re either going to talk to me, one of your teammates, or the team shrink. After this mission, you make the decision.”
D-Day felt locked up and uncomfortable with keeping secrets from his CO and teammates, especially regretting the doubt that crept up when it came to trusting his team. But he had trusted once like that, and it came back to bite him in the end. It felt like running with shackles on, and he hated making Joker feel all over again that he was the odd man out when it came to openness in the team dynamic.
“And, get a damn haircut,” Joker growled before turning on his heel and leading the way out.
D-Day sent his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, and rubbing the stubble on his face. Well, at least he would fit right in with cutthroats, blood diamond thieves, and gun runners.
He grabbed his backpack and started for the ramp following Joker’s tense shoulders. The moment he stepped off, he was drenched in the torrential downpour, soaking him all the way through—not anything he hadn’t had to deal with before, especially at BUD/S where he was either wet or sandy or both. He was glad they went right into a briefing. He would be good once he got immersed in this mission.
They were transported to a white brick building, the location of the re-established US Embassy, but US and Venezuelan ties were still a bit strained. The powers that be guessed it was pressure the Chinese were putting on the government to continue to cold-shoulder the Americans out.
The place wasn’t exactly up to snuff. It looked a bit rundown, water dripping from several bad spots in the ceiling. They filed into the room where there were several people waiting for them. He didn’t recognize anyone but took a seat with his other teammates. Once they were settled, a woman strode forward and captured his attention. She was beautiful, her hair black, straight, and long, grazing her hips, moving like an obsidian waterfall, her features were strong, high cheekbones, strong jawline, and stunning silver blue eyes beneath her black winged brows. No man in the room, including him, could help but admire her tall, athletic body with her nipped-in waist and full breasts beneath the white silk of her blouse, tucked into a pair of tight black jeans, finished off with black cowboy boots with metal at the heel and toe.
“Hi all, I’m Bailee Thunderhawk with the agency, and this is Inspector Hector Gil with the Policía Nacional Bolivariana.” Her eyes traveled around the table. “He will be assisting us and our ATF agent rep…um rep…” Her eyes had landed on their big man, Bear. She blinked a couple of times and laughed with such a self-deprecating charm, D-Day found himself smiling and feeling sorry for her. “Ah, James…right, James Marlowe with this operation.” She blushed so prettily just across her cheeks. She looked away and her face turned grave. “There are several reasons you’re here, and the most prominent one is this guy.”
She put up a picture, and just about everyone in the room turned to look at him. “That guy looks just like you, D-Day,” Zorro said.
He sure did. A meaner, scruffier, and decidedly less fit version of himself.
“That’s quite the doppelg?nger,” Blitz said. “He even has the same haircut. That’s freaky.”
The guy could be his twin brother, but D-Day actually couldn’t be sure he wasn’t related to him. Although his dad stayed pretty close to home, who knew what and whom he had done in his youth.
“Mr. Nolan, you are the man of the hour here. Since you resemble the gunrunner who has a meeting with the men who are brokering the deal with US military arms, we’re very keen for you to step in and assume his identity. It’s one of the reasons we chose your team to participate in this op.”
“And the other reason?” D-Day asked.
“You guys get the job done. Your record speaks for itself, especially in West Africa.” She picked up a file and consulted it. “Milo Prescott, you were instrumental in ferreting out the terrorist who attacked the embassy.”
“Professor nodded. “That was a big team effort between Tier 1 operators, your Shadowguards, and NCIS.”
“How did I know you would say that?” she said with a smile. “And your commander. Lieutenant Elias Jackman. You saved your father from a disgruntled serviceman, who was trying to kill you both, and foiled plans by Almawquif Almuahad Lil’islam .”
He opened his mouth, and she held up her hand. “I know. It was a team effort.”
“It was.”
“And Mr. LaBauve. You supported and assisted the new ambassador to the mission. Once again, messing up a situation that could have been very bad for us.”
“And he married her,” Zorro said with a slick grin.
Bailee smiled back. “I see that. Congratulations.”
Gator nodded.
She walked closer to the table where Blitz was sitting. “And you, Mr. Berenger. You took it up a notch and went all the way to Russia with one of our excellent FBI agents, saved her life along with Aleksei Volkov’s family, opening the way for him to defect to the US and blowing open a huge conspiracy involving a powerful oligarch and his son and daughter, who were behind the ambassador and his family’s assassination. On top of that, you went after them and took them out while they were gunning for the whole Russian government. Well done. You brought to justice the people who killed our ambassador.”
She turned to Buck. “And Mr. Buckard. You and your team were instrumental in taking down a drug lord, something the DEA is still talking about. Hmm, and you married the daughter of the suspected coffee plantation.” She pursed her lips. “It seems that all women you’ve come across, you’ve married. I had no idea this was such a great place to find a husband.” Everyone chuckled, and D-Day could see this woman’s charm, but flattery and kudos were far from the nitty-gritty of the mission.
“What exactly do you want me to do?”