Chapter 12
12
Sadie sat on her bed cross-legged and tried with all her might to do her homework for her online class, but her mind kept skipping back to what had happened after their dive shift was over…the unbelievable sex, the shower, then his breakdown.
All the questions that she had brought up during those mind-bending, and heartrending experiences danced around in her head. He had been embarrassed and angry, and it wasn’t a surprise to her at all. He was a SEAL, a warfighter, the kind of man who didn’t want to admit any kind of weakness as if asking for help wasn’t a possibility.
But he had her, and apparently, she had him. He wasn’t going to say anything about her lapse in concentration. Her secret was safe with him. She was motivated to get back there, continue the vital work of bringing their dead home to rest.
She had once again returned her attention to her laptop, determined to do another fifteen more minutes, then sleep, when there was a soft knock on the door. She was surprised that someone was knocking at this time, as most of them would be turning in. PT came early in the morning.
She called, “Come in.”
When the door opened, she caught her breath. It was Twister, and he smiled a cat-in-the-cream smile as he entered, then closed the door behind him. He leaned those broad shoulders against the door in a hip-shot stance, with a heavy-lidded gaze that made her skin start to buzz, his arms at his sides, hard, tanned, the veins running down his forearms to the back of his big hands. Was it him, or did all SEALs seem “armed” all the time? Even when there were no visible weapons.
His white T-shirt was loose, but those stretchy black shorts molded to his lower body, the edges hugging those thick, muscled thighs, the fabric stretched across his impressive groin and sexy hips. How exciting that men couldn’t hide how they felt about a woman in such a visceral, physical way. Again, was it him or, even when these warfighters were relaxed, did they always seemed primed for action? That made her heart flutter.
She frowned. It was hard to get a read on this man sometimes. But she very much liked how those smiles came much easier now, and she very much liked that it seemed to be in her presence. Not the humorous, ribbing kind of smiles he shared with his teammates. No, this smile was intimate, filled with much more than sex, and that made him so dangerous, unquestionably dangerous. She didn’t think anyone looked at her like he did, confident and agitated…in a good way, the best kind of way. Homework forgotten, she closed her laptop, sliding it off the bed to the floor.
“Aren’t you up way past your bedtime?” she murmured, her voice teasing but hushed, as if she were imparting a secret between them. She tilted her head. “Bondo looks like he does his tucking so tight, you wouldn’t be able to escape.” That exhilarating smile changed, metallic glints sparking in his eyes.
“Is that so?” he said, those eyes heating. “I’ve been through SERE, and I know all about escaping.” He locked the door, telling her that he was staying for a while, and the thought of getting more than a stolen fifteen minutes with him sent a thrill through her.
“You staying a while?” she asked.
He pushed off the door, the power of him radiating in the limited space. He seemed like a man with a mission, and she knew how dedicated SEALs were to that mission.
“It seems that my CO thinks that getting time with you would be less distracting on the job. I’m not sure that’s true, but I’m always ready to take advantage of a good situation. Waste not, want not.”
Her eyes went back to him like a heat-seeking missile. Overjoyed that they were going to get some downtime together, she couldn’t wait to feel his arms around her, look into his impossibly smoldering eyes and taste him, to run her tongue over him and slide her fingers into his silky dark hair, to touch his skin and feel his warmth envelope her, and to know without a doubt that she was safe. “I’ll need to see your signed permission slip.”
There was that spark in his eyes again, a flash of white teeth as he grinned, intensifying her longing. From the moment he walked in, she wanted his mouth. He pulled off his T-shirt in one quick move, stripping down to just those leave-nothing-to-the-imagination itty-bitty black shorts and all of that high-octane testosterone.
“I think this is all the permission I need,” Twister said gruffly, the natural mischief in his smile taking on a whole new meaning. He hooked his thumbs into those shorts and pulled them down and off, and her breath hitched. Twister was rock solid, honed granite by his exacting peers into an elite combat weapon, trained to think two steps ahead of the enemy while under fire, underwater, and outmanned. What chance had she really had against him? As the sight of him washed down her body like a torrent and made her ache, she had to amend her first thought. She hadn’t wanted any chance at all.
“That’s an impressive permission slip.” Everything about him left her breathless. “But I can’t quite read it.”
His breathing faltered. “Closer, then?” he asked. He looked male, beautifully aroused, restrained—and overheated.
“Oh, much, much closer,” she said, panting. “I don’t want to miss a thing.” She ached to get her hands on him.
“Oh, I’ll make sure of it,” he said, grabbing onto her shorts and pulling everything off her, leaving her in nothing but her soft, white tank top, her nipples tight knots against the cotton. He set his knee on the bed, making her breathless and weak. She closed her eyes, her heart pounding, the thought of him touching her, stroking her filled her mind.
“You drive me crazy,” he growled, coming down onto the bed, nudging her thighs apart with his knee and settling his hips between her legs, the hard, hot heat of him heavy against her sex. She gasped, moaning softly, his skin like warmed velvet. His voice rough with emotion, gruff with tenderness, he brushed a kiss against her temple. “I need to have you… fuck you. I need you, Sadie. I think I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” His hot gaze drilled into her, his weight compressing her lungs a bit, pressing the aching tips of her nipples into his hard, immovable chest.
He gripped the back of her neck, taking her mouth in a hot, deep kiss, shoving up her tank top with the other. Breaking the kiss briefly, she blindly crossed her arms and pulled it impatiently off. She buried her fingers in his hair, tugging his mouth back to hers. He was both gentle and urgent, making her feel the center of his universe. He pressed his thick, hard heat against her, still kissing her deeply, twining his tongue along hers as he slid his hands down, all those flexing muscles pinning her to the mattress.
Breathing raggedly against her mouth when she reached down and caressed the head of his shaft, positioning him at the core of her, he jerked, groaning her name. Another deeper groan vibrated through her chest as he pushed into her with a strong surge, filling her.
Opening her mouth wide against his and drinking in his taste, his need, she slid her hands over his flexing butt, and he made a low, guttural sound as his thrusts intensified.
Then they were caught in a fever of need, a driving, desperate, frantic need that consumed them, drove them, carried them to the very edge of an emotional chasm until Twister clutched her and thrust into her one final time. Everything exploded into a splintering glow of silver, and the climax came—a blinding, aching release that took them both under.
Twister held on to her, enveloping her in his strength and heat, his body shuddering against hers, and Sadie clung to him, shaken, and so emotionally exposed that she felt stripped inside. It took a long time for all that emotional turbulence to settle, and the first things she was aware of were how much she was falling for this man and how securely he was holding her. She released some of the overload by expelling the air in her lungs, then cradled the back of his head and hugged him fiercely.
“So, I get to have you all night?”
He chuckled. “You can have me whenever you want me, woman,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
She nodded, burying her face against his neck. She waited for the giddy pressure to ease in her chest, then she cupped his nape, caressing his skin. “I meant to sleep with you, but that works, too.”
Drawing one arm from under her, he braced his weight on it and looked down at her. With the dark stubble filling in where his sculpted beard and mustache ended, he looked biker rough, so tough and dangerous and so masculine. He gave her a slow, soft smile, a trace of amusement in his eyes. “I mean to sleep with you, too. Everything seems to work with you.”
He leaned down and kissed her, his mouth warm and moist and open against hers.
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “All parts of you work extremely well.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Almost everything,” he murmured.
And she knew exactly what he was talking about. His panic attacks. She infused everything she felt into her voice and eyes, her wealth of understanding and compassion as she stroked his taut face. She didn’t want him to cover up anything to make it easier on her or him.
“Don’t do that to yourself, Shane. Don’t. You are having a tough time right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s forever. Believe me, I’ve had my share of hard times, and I got out of them through my own perseverance. You have that in spades. Just part of what makes you so indestructible.”
“Geezus, Sadie.” His hand slipped around her nape and squeezed. “I really need to hear that shit right now,” he said hoarsely. He kissed her so softly, the tenderness in him palpable. She didn’t want to diminish what kind of shape he’d been in during both panic attacks. They were concerning for a man who couldn’t be distracted at any time. A distracted warrior was a dead one.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered, thinking that he might shut down, draw into himself to protect anything that was too vulnerable for her to see. He was haunted by his weakness, afraid of showing it to anyone. No one was fearless, regardless of how much he tried to cover it up.
He inhaled deeply as if extracting courage from the air, surprising the hell out of her, and said, “Yes, I do. I think I need to, and with you…” He swallowed convulsively. His voice was so ragged it was barely audible. “...I…want to. I feel so goddamned safe. It’s such a strange and foreign feeling.”
Ah, such unexpected softness wrapped up in such a hard, unmistakable warrior. Twister had layers, beautiful, compelling, mesmerizing layers, and he was peeling them one by one for her to see. A man for whom trust didn’t come easily, but again, they had shown each other their vulnerable sides, open and raw, baring everything that could injure them, compromise them, and lead them to disaster if they weren’t careful, vigilant. He was dropping even more walls for her. Maybe that was his desperation to find out what was at the core of these terrible episodes. Once he understood himself, he could get to the root and eradicate them.
She slid her hand up his chest and kissed him back, trying to give him all the emotional honesty he had given her. Holding her still, Twister eased away, then sighed and raised his head, his eyes dark and somber as he gazed down at her. Sadie tried to ease the contraction in her throat, then, her voice unsteady, said, “I’m so glad you’re here, Twister.”
He shifted his gaze as he drew his thumb across her mouth as the muscles in his jaw bunched, then he looked at her again. There was a directness in his somber gaze that made her throat contract even more. “So am I,” he answered unevenly. “So am I.” He leaned down and kissed her again, then carefully withdrew from her. Using his arm for leverage, he lifted himself off her, then stretched out on his back and reached for her. “Come here, babe,” he said gruffly. “So I can hold you.”
Sadie immediately complied, maneuvering them under the covers and drawing the sheet over them, then resting her head on his shoulder and tucking her knee between his, the weight of his arm across her back, holding her securely against him. She spread her hand over his chest, listening to the counterpoint of his heartbeat and hers mingling, savoring the shared silence.
Twister sighed and covered her hand with his, and Sadie shifted a fraction and said, her voice quiet. “Where do you want to start?”
“I don’t know. My attacks started after I almost died,” he murmured.
“What happened to you?”
When he didn’t say anything, she pushed up on her elbow, draping herself across his chest. She sensed he was suddenly exhausted beyond words. “We don’t have?—”
“It’s not that,” he said, meeting her eyes in a steady, unnerving look.
“Did I ask the wrong thing?” she said, her voice faltering.
“No,” he said, sliding his hand along her arm, playing with a lock of her hair. “It’s classified information, and I’ve never broken that code, ever.”
“Okay. Can we work around it?”
“I think full disclosure is best, and I didn’t say I wouldn’t break the code…with you. We already share some pretty strong secrets, and the mission is long over.”
The import of what he was about to do weighed heavily on her. To be taken into this man’s confidence to this extent was meaningful. “This is a lot of responsibility…” she said, watching his eyes shutter. She hiked herself up higher so that she could reach his mouth with hers. She kissed him softly, then said, “But I’m all in with you, Twister. So, tell me what you want to say, and it’ll be safe with me.”
For one heart-stopping instant they stared at each other, invisibly linked by an acute awareness, then Twister’s expression altered dramatically. Looking suddenly gaunt, he sighed. “About eighteen months ago, the team was in Haiti for a peacekeeping mission.”
“Oh, no,” she said softly, well aware of what had happened in Haiti. “That terrible earthquake…Oh, God were you?—”
“Yes, we were there. Things got dicey between the government and the ambassador. We took refuge in the embassy, preparing to withdraw, when the earthquake hit.” He swallowed and stared at the ceiling. She could feel him trembling beneath her. He covered his eyes with his arm, his tone going soft, almost indecipherable. “It shook the embassy and part of the building sheared off, and I was buried under the rubble.”
The ache in her throat nearly suffocated her, and she gently took his hand in hers and drew his arm down. Heaving a heavy sigh, he looked at her, a desolate look in his eyes. His voice was quiet, almost devoid of emotion when he continued. “The Haitians were devastated, but there was some discord amongst the younger people, and one of them came to the embassy, and when the doc came out to treat me once my team cleared the debris, he was shot and killed.”
“I saw that on the news. How devastating.”
He nodded. “That left us without a surgeon, and although my dislocated shoulder was easily but painfully reset in the socket, my internal bleeding couldn’t be addressed.”
“Right. You’re the medic.”
He nodded. “So, my CO made the decision to brave the six miles to the airport to get me flown out to Gitmo. They ran all the way, braved hostility and danger to save my life, and barely got me there in time.” He exhaled sharply and began to absently caress the back of her hand with his thumb, his face looking more haggard with each passing moment. “I felt myself slipping away, and in that moment, it hit home how very fragile life really is and that this could be it for me. Then I blacked out.”
He rubbed at his eyes, and she could see he was struggling with the emotion of that memory. “I can’t stop thinking how much I squandered, and if something had happened to any of my brothers…” He trailed off, his voice gruff.
She stiffened, annoyance flicked through her, and her chin came up. Swearing under her breath, she said, “Are you saying you weren’t worth all that effort? Is that what I’m hearing?”
His face carved by shame, he displaced her and got out of bed, his hard body pacing away from her to the window. He jammed his hands on the sill, trying to level out his rapid breathing. Finally, he exhaled sharply and turned to face her, his voice breaking. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“That is the biggest crock of bullcrap I have ever heard. You have to know that, Shane. Seriously. I’ve seen you in action, and I’ve felt you all around me. You are worth all the effort, monumental effort. People in the Navy have no qualms about giving their lives for others.”
“What are you saying? You’d die for me?”
Her breath suddenly wouldn’t come. “Yes, absolutely. You would be completely worth saving.”
He stared at her for a moment, then turned his back to her, bracing his hand against the sill again, his rib cage expanding and contracting. A taut silence hung between them, then he finally said, his voice raw and strained. “God, I need to hear that.”
“They value you, Shane. You have their backs, all the time, and when they need you, you’re their healer, the man who would do anything to save each of them. They are aware of what you have given because they have already given it as well. Don’t you dare sell yourself short because you haven’t figured something out.”
Twister bent his head and dragged his hand across his eyes, then inhaled raggedly. “I’ve felt so disconnected for so long, but I feel that I’m finally understanding some things.”
She couldn’t stand it any longer. She slipped out of bed and closed the gap between them in long strides. Catching him by the back of the head, Sadie closed her eyes and hung on to him, her heart squeezing tight in her chest, unable to hold back anything she felt for this man, so dangerously close to falling for him in ways that she’d never allowed herself to give to any man, fear keeping her heart bound. But he crossed so many of her boundaries without hardly any effort, just by being who he was.
Finding the answers to impossible questions took some major soul-searching. He seemed to have already started that kind of journey, and she had to admit that he was the catalyst that was making her examine quite a few of her own issues. With a soft, male sound, he shifted her head back and found her mouth, his savage kiss tasting of tears and pain and fear-driven desperation. He was harboring something painful, something raw, consuming, something that was connected to why he felt he wasn’t worthy of what his teammates had done for him.
He dragged his hand up her back, molding them together in a crushing hold, his other hand immobilizing her head as his mouth turned hot, hungry, and ravaging. He pushed her back to the bed, and they fell together, lost in each other.
After the storm was over and their bodies had cooled, they clung to each other.
“Maybe something about the experience triggered something inside me.”
“What kind of things?”
He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know…helplessness for one.”
“Loss of control can be very scary,” she whispered. “Anyone who has gone through the kind of training we go through, and then deal with on a daily basis, understands that.”
He nodded. “I feel that this is some kind of cosmic wake-up call.”
“Who, me?”
“Yes,” he said, turning his body against hers, dragging her into the cradle of his arms, and burying his face against her neck. “You are doing things to me that I can barely understand, but I know this thing between us is stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced with a woman. I hope that’s not too scary, Sadie. I don’t want to fuck this up.”
Sadie grasped him just as tightly, feeling that she was the glue that was holding him together now. A tremor coursed through him, and he cupped her head so gently, holding her with an all-encompassing strength.
“I feel the same way,” she said, drawing an unsteady breath, and ran her hand up his naked back.
“Thank God.” A jagged sigh escaped him, and he pressed a kiss against her neck, something profoundly poignant in the touch of his mouth against her. Her breath caught, and she dragged her fingers through his hair, cradling him against her with all her strength, feeling as if something miraculous had just happened.
Too spent to even discuss where this all might go, but knowing that Twister was open to that discussion as much as she was, they fell asleep.
Axel sat behind the table while Petty Officer Neil Lancaster stared at him, his expression neutral. He got that kind of itch, the one that told him there was more to this guy than met the eye, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Why am I here?” Neil asked.
“You were the last person to see Petty Officer Mercer alive. We have a few routine questions for you. Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all. I’ll do anything I can to help you find out who murdered Dylan.”
“Is there anything you can tell us about those last couple of days before he was allegedly attacked by Seven Demands? Anything suspicious, out of the ordinary?”
“You mean like fights between Dylan and David Burton?”
“What? What kind of fights?”
Neil looked away. “I don’t really want to talk out of turn about either one of them. We were friends.”
“I understand that, but we need all the information we can get on Dylan’s personal and professional life before he was stabbed.”
Neil sighed reluctantly. “Dylan and David had a strange relationship. They had really become close in dive school until…”
“Until?”
“Something…someone came between them, and they constantly fought about it.”
“Who was this someone?”
He closed his eyes and huffed out a hard breath. “Petty Officer Sadie Tompkins. Dylan had the hots for her from the get-go, and I think David did too, but when it all washed out, she preferred Dylan. They dated, went hot and heavy for all of dive school, then abruptly Sadie broke up with Dylan, and David was pissed about it. She broke the guy’s heart, and he wasn’t really the same afterward—moody, snappy, withdrawn. He and David made up and were friends again, but the minute they found out Sadie was going to be diving on the wreck, the fights flared again, even worse.”
“How?”
“Blows. We were drinking one night, and David said that Sadie wasn’t worth losing their friendship over again. That she was nothing but a bitch, and Dylan lost it and punched him. They tussled for a bit, and I pulled them apart. The next day, Dylan was supposed to dive with David, but he wasn’t feeling well, so I went down with Dylan instead. Then that swimmer came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I tried to stop him, but he cut me on the wrist.” He touched his right wrist.
“And the knife?”
“I wrestled it from him but lost it in the water. He swam away, and I couldn’t pursue it or him because I had to help Dylan. We were pretty deep at the time, and we had no time to decompress. I had to get him to the surface fast, even got the bends because of it. But it was too late. He bled out.”
“When you got back to the boat where was Petty Officer Burton?”
Neil bit his lip. “He was down below, and I noticed that his hair was wet, but he said he’d been sick and had to take a shower.”
“Do you have your dive knife?”
Neil stiffened and raised his chin. “Yes, but it’s with my gear.”
“We’re going to have a look at it.”
“Why?”
“Because Dylan Mercer was murdered with a Navy-issued dive knife.”
The implication hung between them as Neil’s eyes widened. “Oh, man. You think David killed Dylan?”
“We haven’t come to any conclusions as of yet, but we’re going to ask David some questions. Thank you for your time. The MP outside the door will go with you to obtain your knife. We’ll get it back to you after it’s been examined.”
Neil nodded.
After the door closed, Griffin’s mouth tightened. “Damn, it sounds like David might have gone into the water after Dylan. This might not be terrorist-related at all.”
“It’s a possibility, but after talking to David, we’ll know more. Let’s get him in here.”
Griffin got on the phone and after a few moments, he hung up. “There’s a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“David was on leave yesterday. He was supposed to be back this morning. He missed muster, and no one has seen him since he left. Sounds like he might be running.”