SEALs Honor (8 page)

When
the chopper landed at Camp Leatherneck, medics and intel officers were there to
greet them. Fish argued about being carried out on a gurney, finally agreeing
to let the army female medics drape his arms over their shoulders and help him
limp to the waiting ambulance. Grinning, he looked back over his shoulder and
winked.

The
medics wanted Tuck to report to the hospital for sutures.

He
refused, insisting the wound could be patched with a bandage. To prove the
point, he unbuckled his Protech Tactical Armor Plate Carrier or PTAC, eased it
over his shoulders, and dropped it to the ground. The absence of the weight
made him feel immediately lighter and more agile. And naked.

With
the cool desert night air blowing over his skin, his imagination carried him
back to the bed he'd shared with Delaney a little more than a week ago, her
smooth body pressed against his.

Reaper
sat on the bumper of the ambulance beside Tuck, another medic checking him over
for concussion and lacerations from the grenade explosion. Reaper pushed the
medic's hand away from his face. "Gunny's set up quarters for us. Let’s
go."

"Shouldn't
you be at the hospital?" Tuck asked.

"The
doc said I looked okay, no concussion."

"Then
head for quarters. I'll be along in a minute. I need to debrief intel."
Tuck really wanted to catch Delaney on her own, after everyone left. Images of
stolen kisses bumped up his adrenaline and pulse.

The
medic cleaned his wound and applied a sterile bandage, warning him to keep it
clean or the gash would get infected.

When
Reaper finally stood, he stretched and flexed his muscles.

About
that time, Delaney climbed down from the helicopter and removed her helmet.

"I'll
be damned." Reaper laughed. "Tuck, look who our pilot was."

"I
know."

Reaper
frowned. "You knew O'Connell was flying, and you didn't tell me?"

"I
wanted everyone to focus on the mission, not the pilot."

Reaper
ran a hand across his dusty, shaggy hair. "Think she's had enough time to
decide?"

Panic
tightened his throat. "Reaper, we're in a war zone. Now's not the time to
push a girl to marry you."

"I
can't think of a better time. Away from home, feeling lonely and afraid."
He flexed his biceps. "Big, handsome SEAL to her rescue. It's a romance
novel come true."

"Reaper,
you really have to get a clue. She may not have agreed to marry you because she
doesn't love you that way." How many times did he have to say that before
Reaper got the hint?

"If
that was the case, she would have said no when I asked her."

"You
asked her in front of all of our friends. She's nice enough to save your ugly
face from embarrassment."

Reaper
hung back, his frown deepening. "I hate it when you make sense. What I
hate worse is that she might have said no if I hadn't asked in front of our
friends." His frown lightened. "If she's leaning toward saying no,
maybe I need to show her I meant what I said. She probably thinks I'm not
serious."

Tuck
wanted to slap a palm to his forehead. He'd have to come right out and tell the
guy Delaney wasn't into him. "Look, Reaper—"

Reaper
wasn't listening. He raised his hand and yelled, "O'Connell!"

So
much for seeing Delaney alone.

The
medic had barely taped down the last edge of the bandage when Tuck jumped up,
shrugged his shirt over his shoulder, and hurried after Reaper and Delaney.

"So
I was thinking, how about you and me grab a bite of breakfast together in the
chow hall?"

"Sounds
like a good idea." Tuck fell in step on the other side of Delaney and
winked at her. "But shouldn't you be heading to the hospital for that CAT
scan?"

Reaper's
brows dipped. "No, and I was asking O'Connell here to breakfast. Just the
two of us."

"And
five hundred of your closest friends? Come on, Reaper, you'd leave a brother
behind?"

"When
it comes to O'Connell?" He snorted. "Hell, yeah."

"I
have a suggestion." Delaney stopped. "Why don't the two of you have
breakfast, and I'll check in with my commander, get a shower, and hit my bunk."

"Are
you assigned to Camp Leatherneck?" Cory asked, his face brightening.

"I
am. But I want you both to know, I'm not fraternizing with either of you."
She pointed to Reaper then to Tuck. "Got it?"

Tuck
figured she was telling them both to keep their relationship on the down low.
He nodded, grinning. Determined to play along. "Come on, Reaper. Let's see
if the chow hall is open this late."

Reaper
snagged Delaney's hand. "I meant what I said. I love you, O'Connell. And
come hell or sandstorms, I mean to marry you some day."

"Cory,
I—"

"I
know." He raised his free hand to stop her. "You don't want to make a
decision until we get back stateside, and you're probably thinkin' I'm a flirt
and couldn't be satisfied with just one woman. But you're wrong. If that one
woman is you, I know I'll be perfectly happy to give up the others."

She
laughed. "So noble, Cory." Her voice dripped sarcasm.

He
sighed. "Just don't say no or make up your mind until I've had a chance to
prove it to you."

"But
I—"

"Please.
Don't decide yet." He grinned, kissed her fingers.

Like
a royal pain in the ass and let go. Tuck grimaced.

"Come
on, Tuck. I'm starvin'."

Tuck
cast a frowning glance back at Delaney.

She
shrugged and turned the opposite way, most likely heading for her tent and a
shower.

Being
on the same post as Delaney had its challenges. When deployed, the situation
was even more difficult. Though he and Delaney were equal rank, having sex or
sexual relations while deployed was frowned upon.

His
groin tightened. Tuck never backed down from a challenge, but if he was going
to risk his career as a Navy SEAL, Delaney O'Connell was worth it. And SEALs
were known for taking risks most men wouldn't dare.

Delaney
stomped away from Tuck and Reaper, steaming as she went. Why the hell hadn't
Tuck told Reaper about them? They'd had over a week in which he could have
brought up the subject at any time.

She
ground to a halt, her flight bag banging against her knees.

Unless
Tuck wasn't ready to make the fact known to his closest friend that he was in a
committed relationship. Which he wasn't and had made it clear he didn't want to
commit. Ever.

Was
he that gun-shy when it came down to commitment? His parents had really screwed
with his brain. For a big, tough, eats-bullets-for-breakfast SEAL, he was
running scared of her and the fact they could be in love. He probably thought
that, like every other person in his life, she'd leave him.

His
mother had left him every time she'd found a new lover or husband. Worse, 
she'd left him with his father who'd been the harshest disciplinarian with no
love left for the boy he'd help bring into the world.

Damn.
She would have to break it to Cory that she loved him as a brother, and there
was no way the feeling would grow into anything more. Hell, she'd tried. But he
hadn't let her get a word in edgewise.

She
continued on her way to the operations tent where she reported to the Officer
In Charge, debriefed on the mission, and then gathered her flight bag and
headed for her tent. Exhausted, in need of a shower and some time alone, she
was disappointed to find her tent mate wide awake and in the mood to talk.

Captain
Lindsay Swinson sat on her cot with her feet up, removing the polish from her
toenails. The sharp scent of acetone permeated the tent.

Delaney
wanted to grab her towel and clothes and make tracks for the shower tent, but
she had to get past her red-haired roommate first. A friendly, outgoing woman,
Lindsay loved to talk. She worked as a nurse at the medical clinic on Camp
Leatherneck, and knew a lot about what was going on in the camp. The reason was
because she wasn't shy about asking. And with her rich Georgia accent setting
her victims at ease, they usually told her more than they ever intended. "Oh,
Del. I'm glad you're back safe. How'd it go?"

Reluctant
to talk about the mission, she shrugged off the strain of what had happened. "Everyone
got back alive."

Lindsay
glanced up, her open face serious for half a second. "That's wonderful."

A
long pause followed, as if giving a silent prayer for those who had not been as
fortunate.

Shaking
nail polish remover onto a cotton ball, she asked, "Transport anyone
yummy?"

"I
don't normally taste my cargo, whether supplies or people." Oh, yes, she'd
brought back one of the yummiest SEALs in the Navy.

Her
tent mate bent to rub polish off yet another toenail. "Have you heard
anything from your sweetie-pie back in the states?"

Delaney
debated her answer. She could ignore Lindsay and pretend she hadn't heard. Or
she could tell the woman her sweetie was there at Camp Leatherneck. Or she
could just say, "I heard from him."

Lindsay
sat up, her attention back on Delaney. "And?"

"He's
doing okay."

"Okay?
Without you?" Lindsay shook her head. "No man should be okay without
his woman."

"I'm
not his woman. We're just..." What were they?

"Lovers?"
Lindsay's smile quirked. "Sweetie, you've had love written all over you
since you got here. You miss him, don't you?"

Delaney
couldn't lie. With her toiletries kit in hand, a robe, and shower shoes, she
paused. Had she missed Tuck?
Oh, hell
. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"And
is that a crime?"

"Could
be." Delaney sat on the edge of her cot, shower forgotten. "I came
into the Army determined to be a lifer. Stay at least twenty years. Longer, if
they'd have me."

"So?"
She held up a bottle of neon pink nail polish to the light. "What's
stopping you?"

Delaney
drew in a deep breath and let it out. "How do people do it? How do they
let themselves fall in love when they're in the military? Maintaining a
relationship in the civilian world is hard enough."

"Honey,
if you love someone enough, you make it work."

"What
if they're in different branches of service and just as determined to make their
job a career?"

"Then
they figure out ways to see each other." Lindsay uncapped the bottle and
the potent smell of nail polish warred with the still-lingering acetone. "They
make choices and they do what they have to do."

"If
only it was that easy."

"Sweetie,
the more determined they are to make it work, the more they'll love each other."

Delaney's
shoulders sagged. "If they're both willing to work on it." And that
was the rub.

"Oh."
Lindsay bit her bottom lip. "Like it's more one-sided?"

"Yeah.
What if one is in it for the long haul and the other isn't?"

Lindsay's
brows rose. "Ah, that makes it different. Does the person who's thinking
long haul know whether the other person is really against  commitment?"

"She
doesn't know." Delaney shrugged. "And then there's this other person
who has declared his love and proposed."

"Is
this third person sexy, nice, long-term material?"

"Yes."

"Does
she love him?"

A
lump formed in Delaney’s throat. "Yes and no."

"Either
it's a yes or a no. Can't be both."

"She
loves him like a brother."

"And
he's proposed." Lindsay tapped a naked fingernail to her chin. "Now,
my mamma always said a bird in the hand with a ring is always a better choice
than one in the bush without."

Delaney
laughed. "Now, you're making that up."

The
nurse gave her a lopsided grin. "Okay, but dad-gum, girl. A sexy guy
proposes to her and she isn't saying yes, but she loves him."

"Like
a brother," Delaney added. "And he's best friends with the other guy."

"Good
grief, Delaney. How convoluted is this scenario?"

Her
gut knotted. "As complicated as it gets. She didn't say no to the guy who
proposed."

Her
nail polish forgotten, Lindsay stared at Delaney. "And why the
fool-darn-heck not?"

"He
told her not to decide, but to think about it. And he's such a good friend, she
hates to break his heart."

The
light in Lindsay's eyes danced. "Does loverboy know the boyfriend asked
her to marry him?"

"Yes,
and so does his entire unit. He did it in front of them."

"Sweet
Jesus! Pass the eggs and grits, he had a set of balls on him to do that."