Building Ties (Military Romantic Suspense) (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 4) (13 page)

And he might have never met Tess.

His gaze strayed to her and the other ladies, Zoe, Trish, Selena, Samantha, and Sizemore’s date, Madeline. The women had congregated at one end of the patio in lawn chairs. Their periodic bursts of high-pitched laughter punctuated the rumble of men’s voices.

Maybe things did happen for a reason.

“You look thirsty, dude.” Doc smacked a beer bottle dripping with condensation into his hand and slouched into the lawn chair diagonal to his. Doc’s smile, and his wide, Irish, freckled face triggered an answering grin from Brett.

“I can always use a beer.”

“I thought so. How’s it going with the new team?” Doc took a swig of his own brew.

He owed this man his life. He had kept him alive until they’d been airlifted to safety. Had he ever thanked him? He’d make damn sure he did at some point. “I’m settling in and getting to know the guys. They’re a good team, motivated, professional. You’d like Frank Denotti, our medic.”

“I’ve met him at one training or another. Italian, sings opera, and strong as an ox.”

“You got it. Though he didn’t do much singing this tour.”

Flash wandered out of the house from either a bathroom break or checking on the kids. He pulled a chair up beside them. Brett extended a hand and they bumped knuckles. “How you doing?”

“I’m good. I kind of know what you mean now about working your way back, Cutter. It’s a bitch, but I’m getting there.”

“What team are you assigned with?”

Flash grinned. “Team seven. Same as you.”

Brett punched him on the shoulder. “Excellent. We may get to work together again.”

“I hope so. Though I’m still dealing with the repercussions from my…” he paused, “…forced sabbatical, I’m finding my way.”

Being on the run for nine months from a drug cartel and a crooked FBI agent had ripped into Flash’s career path with a vengeance. But he’d get back, twice as strong.

“One day at a time, brother,” Brett said by way of encouragement.

“I hear you.”

“Did you get that pay SNAFU worked out?” Doc asked.

Flash dangled the neck of his beer bottle from between his fingers. The stiffening breeze ruffled his blond hair and threw it forward across his forehead. He shoved it back. “Well it took a while for them to decide I was still alive. Then they voided my pay for the nine months I was gone. Which I understand and accept. I wasn’t here to do the job, wasn’t here to back up my unit, so I deserved it. Then they gave me back pay for the months I’ve been back in action, so I’m good.” He threw up a thumb. “The only bad thing is, because of how things went down, everything that happened will probably follow me from now on.”

Since that came on the heels of his earlier thoughts, Brett felt compelled to say, “There’s another way of looking at it, Flash. You did what you’re trained to do. You tracked and did reconnaissance on a drug cartel and an FBI agent with terrorist ties…and took them down all by your fucking self, bro. That has to count for something.”

Flash ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. “Well, not entirely by myself. By the time I sent the third or fourth report, they’d already set up surveillance of their own which locked Gilbert in a cage. Had I known that, I’d have come in sooner.” His facial expression tightened. “That fucking FBI agent Gilbert played me from the beginning. He had orders drawn up that looked legit and I bought into the whole thing. Had I bothered to really look at them, instead of accepting them at face value, I might have recognized they were bogus.”

“Is that what the FBI said?” Doc asked.

“No. But—”

“But nothing. If Rick Dobson had approached any of us, we’d have taken on the job,” Brett said. “He was a good guy, a good agent. If Gilbert could snow him, his partner, what makes you think you should have suspected anything? You’re going to have to lay this down and move on,” Brett said. “One foot in front of the other, man.”

The smile that stretched across Flash’s face held a cockiness more natural to him. “You’re right, most wise and powerful sage.” He did a rolling motion with his hand and bent low at the waist.

Brett laughed, then raised his beer to him and took a drink. “We’re both lucky. We’ve both gotten second chances. I wonder how rare that is.”

“Probably nothing short of a miracle. I really didn’t think I’d come back from this. I figured I’d be doing some serious prison time.” Flash’s gaze wandered past him to Samantha. “There was a chance I’d never see Sam or Joy again.” He turned back to them. “Just waking up to them every morning is like hitting the lottery, guys, only better.”

Brett was amazed at the way Flash shared his feelings. He’d been the quietest member of their unit and always kept his own counsel. But apparently a close brush with a court martial and prison time could change a man. Or was it Samantha who’d done that?

For a moment Tess’s question about how they dealt with the danger, the things they witnessed, played through his mind. They turned to each other because there was a bond between them fashioned through shared experiences, beliefs, and trust. A shared brotherhood. He was going to have to extend that to her, be her sounding board and support, unless she opted to see a professional therapist.

Brett changed the subject. “I have a problem, guys. The restaurant we had scheduled for the rehearsal dinner had a fire and we’re SOL on a venue. I called ten restaurants today while Tess was busy at the office and struck out at every one of them. Any suggestions?”

“Antonio’s?” Doc said.

“Already called. No go.”

The two fired more suggestions at him. Brett took out his phone and noted the ones he hadn’t already tried.

“If a better venue doesn’t work out, there’s always the patio at my place on the beach, though the breeze off the water this time of year can be a bitch,” Doc said.

Brett grinned. “So noted. Thanks. But only as a last resort. I’d prefer someplace inside.”

The wind picked up a notch, kicking the plastic tablecloth up and out like a tutu on a ballet dancer. The women rose in force to gather the dishes and plates and take everything inside.

Hawk ducked inside with A.J. Doc followed for a bathroom break.

Flash scanned the area around them and then leaned forward in his chair. “I need to tell you something, Cutter, and after I do, if you want to deck me, I’ll understand.”

An uncomfortable pressure built along Brett’s spine, as if a sudden weight rested on his shoulders. “Jesus, Flash. I can’t imagine what it is, but it can’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“While you were in a coma in the hospital, I was trying to juggle the team stuff and the crap the FBI guys wanted me to do for them. The whole time I had this bad feeling in my gut, like I might buy it with every meet I did for them. I was feeling the pressure. Big time pressure, and I really needed to talk to someone. But I couldn’t let anyone know what was going on with me.

“So, I snuck into the hospital and into your room. I spilled everything to you, though you couldn’t hear a fucking word I said. Or if you did, you didn’t wake up. I really needed you to know what was going on, Cutter. You were like the fucking father confessor of the unit. I got worked up and I slapped your cheeks, trying to wake you up. I must have hit you harder than I meant to, and I left a mark. Zoe’s probably told you about the mark. Everyone thought it was Derrick for a while, but it wasn’t. It was me.”

Brett remained silent while he processed what Flash was saying.

“I’m not going to make any excuses. I just want to come clean. Coming back from all the crap I got twisted up in, I just have to make amends for everything that went down before I disappeared and while I was gone. I want everything to be squared away with you and the others.”

In the grand scheme of things, what did one little slap matter? The guy had saved his life more times than he could count. “It’s okay, Flash,” Brett said. “I’ve gotten worse bruises just horsing around with you guys. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” Had Zoe not told him about the incident when he woke up, he’d have never known it had happened. He’d suffered no lasting damage. But it sounded like Flash had been carrying some big-time guilt about it, and he totally understood how that worked. “Lay this down, too, brother.”

“I wish I’d told you everything before our last mission,” Flash said.

Brett laughed.

Flash frowned. “What?”

“I wouldn’t have remembered if you had.”

Flash’s face blanked. “Jesus, Cutter.”

Brett laughed again. “It’s okay. I remember the weeks before.” And he remembered the stock of an AK-47 swooping toward his face, and his attempt to jerk out of the way, but not one thing about the mission itself. He believed Derrick Armstrong had been the man swinging that rifle stock, but he couldn’t be certain.

“So we’re good?” Flash asked.

Brett nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.” He extended his hand and they shook.

Flash got to his feet. “It’s a school night, and Joy has to hit the hay, and Papa Flash is bushed. I’ll see you at the wedding rehearsal if we don’t get together before then. And If I think of any other restaurant suitable for the dinner, I’ll call you.”

“Thanks, Flash.”

Brett walked over and checked the grill, then paused to shake hands and say good night to the rest of the group as they went into the house to gather dishes and other belongings before they left. He made a point of hugging Selena Shaker. Her resent close brush with cancer had been a wake-up call to most of the guys in steady relationships. Including himself.

“So glad you’re doing well,
piccola madre
.”

Selena smiled and hugged him. “I’m doing great. I’m even getting my hair back.” She swiped at the bangs of her wig, which looked much like her own hair, but short. Though she had always had long, thick hair, the new style suited her. “I won’t have to wear this much longer.”

“Good. I thought about you and Greenback a lot.”

“I appreciate it.” She patted his arm. Lucia, their daughter offered him her fist, and he chuckled as he carefully exchanged a knuckle bump with her.

Greenback gripped the baby carrier cradling his son, Micah, in one hand and shook Brett’s hand with the other. “I’ll see you at the bachelor party.”

“I’m counting on it.”

His mom grabbed him around the waist and hugged hard. “We’re going home. If you need us for anything, just call.”

“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

She began to tear up again, as she had when they’d first arrived, but fought it off. “Love you, too.”

He shook Russell’s hand and murmured good night.

Bowie grabbed him and pounded him on the back. “I’m cutting out. Glad to see you, Cutter. You are missed.”

Touched by the other man’s sentiment, Brett smiled. “Thanks. Bowie. Homesickness cuts in now and then, but it’s good to be back to work.”

“I never doubted you’d be back. I’ll see you at the bachelor party.” He loped up the stairs.

The sentiment triggered by Bowie’s words brought to mind how far he’d come since being reassigned. It was time to tell Tess about the promotion. He had to warn her before it came through. Would this current situation cancel things or stall them? He didn’t know. But if it happened, it would mean more responsibility, possibly more training, more time out in the field. She was going to love that.
Not.
Dread struck his stomach.

‡

T
ess perched on
the top step waiting for Brett. All evening, while she’d been laughing with the other women she’d also been gearing up to tell him about the Washington Post job. She’d made up her mind to do it tonight, then reassure him she was good with turning it down.

When he appeared at the bottom of the steps her heart danced into a heavier beat and nerves tightened her stomach. “You’ve been quiet all night, something wrong?”

Brett shook his head and sat down beside her. “No, it’s been good to see the guys. I’ve just been thinking about how different things could have been and how similar.”

Tess looped an arm around his back. “I know this last year and a half has been tough. I also know you still miss your old team.”

“Yeah, I do. But I’d have had to transfer out once Hawk and Zoe got married anyway.” He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “And again when I’m leader of my own unit.”

She leaned back to look up at him. “Soon?”

“Maybe. Before I left Senior Chief Engle told me I’m up for a promotion. He said the paperwork was in the works. How would you feel about being married to a Lieutenant J.G.?”

A dropping sensation lurched in Tess’s stomach. After gearing up to tell him about her own job offer, the pain—and possibly a little resentment—cut deeper than she wanted to admit. His career was moving on while hers would be stalled here. Or would it? She had to make up her mind. She was going to be married in less than three weeks. “Congratulations. I know how hard you’ve worked for this.”

And at this moment, no way could she ask
, and while we’re on the subject, how would you feel about being married to a Washington Post reporter?
She’d both steal his thunder and throw him into the same tailspin of guilt and conflict she continued to experience.