SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) (11 page)

He waited for a little while before he opened his eyes again. Corrigan was still looking at him.

“Where were you born, son?” the silver-haired man asked.

“Portland.”

“Maine?”

“Oregon.”

“
Oregon,
” Corrigan whispered. “Your family still there?”

“I got no family. Never did. The Navy owns my sorry ass.”

“You remember your folks?”

“Nope.”

“Ever see a picture of them?”

“Nope. They’re the invisible family to me.”

“What did they tell you?”

“The nuns? That my father fucked my mother and made me. Other than that, everything was sort of fuzzy, depending on how they felt. Even the same people told me so many fucking stories. You’d think they could just get it right. Write something down and stick to it. Nah.” Rory looked up to the ceiling. “They didn’t even care enough to get that right. So I made them up. The invisible family. You heard the doc say I’m special. I guess I am.”

“But you always wondered. It never left your mind. I mean, if it happened to me, I’d want to know—”

“Look, sir, it’s like two or three in the morning. We should be sleeping. We gotta rest up for Round Two.”

“Round Two?”

“You know, how we go at each other.
That
kind of Round Two.”

Rory was cautious about the sudden interest in his invisible family. A radar ping had severed the quiet of the night. He closed his eyes and thought about the time many years ago when he told another boy in the orphanage it was much better
not
to know anything about parents. It was a complete lie, but it stopped the kid from crying that night.

Something made him open his eyes. Corrigan was still staring at him. He couldn’t make out his face, but a soft reflection was putting a glint in his eyes.

“You have a problem with something, sir?” Rory asked.

“How old are you, son?”

“I’m twenty-six. How the fuck old are you, asshole?”

“I used to swear like that when I was younger. My wife hated it. Still does.”

“There are worse things than swearing.”

“Name one.”

“Lying. Gambling. Cheating on your wife. Stealing from a friend. Stealing period.”

Corrigan chuckled, nodding, then went into one of his coughing spells.

“You think that shit is funny old man?”

Corrigan was wiping his eyes with a Kleenex, still chuckling. “Son, I’m a hedge fund trader. I’ve been accused of doing all those things and worse.”

“Name one.”

Corrigan took a long time to answer. Rory began to feel like a big old black widow was crawling up his spine, ready to take a bite.

“Abandoning a child.”

Rory couldn’t take his eyes off the old man. It felt like the world, the parallel world that was make-believe, just clicked off and the real one, which looked identical to it, suddenly appeared. Just the flash of an eye and he felt something shift.

Rory tore himself away and stared up at the ceiling. The little dots could look like faces if he concentrated real hard. It could also be a draw-by-the-numbers maze. He thought he saw all kinds of images outlined in the dots.

“Ask me what my blood type is,” Corrigan whispered.

Rory tried to roll over but the small traction rigged to his left leg didn’t permit him to turn fully. Hoisting his right shoulder up and burying the weight of his left side into the mattress and pillows, he managed to give Corrigan a view of his backside. He didn’t give a flying fuck if the old man saw his butt in all its glory. He cleared his throat, stared at the snoring form of their roommate on Rory’s left, and tried to forget the comment.

He heard Corrigan rustling and knew the guy was probably also trying to get comfortable.

Rory wanted him to rot in hell.

‡

N
o eye contact
was made between the two men as the activity of the next morning began to pick up. Corrigan had people stopping by to assist with the transfer to Los Angeles. They’d hired a private luxury ambulance, something big enough for an aging rocker on drugs and his entourage. Corrigan didn’t have any family that stopped by. He had staff, Rory noted.

Derek, a sort of major-domo who was very effeminate, doted all over him, and Rory came to the conclusion Corrigan was gay. On one of the passes by the foot of Rory’s bed, Derek gave a subtle wink. Rory was quick to shut it down with a three-finger salute.

Corrigan’ legendary slippers were brought. He had a personal valet shave and give him a slight hair trim, applying cologne. After Corrigan whispered in his ear, the valet asked Rory if he wanted a shave and cut as well.

“Not if you value your life. Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself.”

Corrigan was granted a sponge bath, but the hospital rules dictated an orderly had to perform the service. During the shower, Corrigan complained about the rough treatment and left no doubt he was still in pain. His swearing could be heard all the way down the hall, Rory figured.

Good.

Their roommate on the left whispered across the tiny expanse between their beds, “He someone famous or something?”

“No. Just rich. Just an asshole who’s rich.” This was another reason why Rory couldn’t stand the guy, since he was convinced money killed the soul of any good man. Tyler’s sister wrote romance novels and made more money than any of their Team Guys did, and she wrote about SEALs too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the way it was. Besides, no fucking way he’d become a writer anyway. Good for her. It wasn’t about how much they made, it was about what kind of job they did. It was his job to be ever vigilant.

Derek hustled over to Rory’s bed and presented him with a white card with gold foil script lettering on it.

“What is it?” Rory asked before he lifted a hand to take it.

Derek rolled his eyes and nearly put his hand on his hip. “It’s a card.
His
card.”

“Keep it. I don’t need a hedge fund trader. I need a miracle.”

“Well, you should keep it.”

“You keep it for me, Derek. Now get out of my face.” He tried to turn over again as he had tried last night, but something pulled in his right hip. Bruises that hadn’t been apparent the day before were suddenly all over. He felt the tight hot bright purple flesh covering his left hip and upper thigh, which hurt more than the bones did when he tried to walk.

Not that he would let them know. He pulled himself up with the bar overhead and then slammed down into the pillows and exhaled, hoping the pain searing up both sides would go away quick. He began a series of breathing exercises he’d learned in the yoga class. Each ten inhales he’d hold his breath to the count of ten and then release it, and each time he did this, the pain lessened.

They were both waiting for Doc Thomas to arrive. He was to check on Rory and make sure he was well enough to catch the helicopter transport. For Corrigan, the doctor visit was to release him to the custody of his team of paramedics who would take him to the same hospital Rory was going to in L.A. The doctor finally arrived and gave his blessing to both the moves.

Corrigan was holding a large bottle wrapped in golden cellophane with a yellow bow as he sat in the wheelchair for the trip outside. His attendant wheeled him between the two remaining beds so Rory couldn’t avoid seeing Corrigan as he handed him the bottle.

“Peace offering. The finest Kentucky Bourbon I could find on short notice.”

Rory just looked at him without saying a word.

“You get well. Then we’ll talk.”

“I have nothing to say, sir.”

“So now it’s sir, not asshole or old man?”

“Don’t push your luck, asshole.”

“Funny. You’re a funny guy.” Corrigan ducked his head and gave Rory a crisp salute with the wrong hand, the attendant pulling him backward. As if he’d changed his mind, he stopped the attendant. “Where’s your girl?”

“What girl?”

“You don’t have a wife? A girl?”

“I told you, the Navy’s my family. But I don’t expect you’d understand that.” Rory hesitated, but decided to go with what was naturally coming from his tongue. “Asshole.”

Corrigan smiled tightly and then nodded.

Rory wasn’t going to waste a chance to dig in further. “So where’s
your
fuckin’ family, sir? Asshole, sir.”

“Right on the mark. You got me pegged pretty good. They didn’t accompany me on this vacation.”

“So you do vacations alone? You have a family and you go alone?”

“No, it just turned out this way. I was actually meeting with a client while skiing.”

“I’ll bet.”

After Corrigan left,
Rory worked very hard not to consider anything the man had said. He’d learned this technique in a book.
Visualize the problem, the thing that bothers you, sitting on the table in front of you. Minimize it. Make it smaller than the size of your little finger. Now pick it up and place it behind your back. It’s not really gone, but you aren’t conscious of it.

He needed a drink of water. The new pretty nurse came in the room and it gladdened his soul. “Yes?”

“I’d like some water, please.”

“Certainly. Where’s your cup?”

“Probably under the bed. Can I have some ice with it?”

“I think so. I’ll check with the doctor.” Her fresh face was such a welcome sight. “You want to sleep, or you want me to pull back the drapes so you can enjoy the sunshine?”

“Sunshine sounds nice.”

She blushed and showed her pretty smile with perfect rows of bright white teeth. Pink, totally kissable lips.

Like Megan’s.

He shook himself as he watched her behind, the dress already short but getting shorter as she reached up to fix the drapes, reaching a little too high. He was getting a look at some intimate lace and he felt himself begin to get aroused.

Like he did with Megan.
Hell, she could have been Megan.

“All done. Now I’ll go get your cup of ice. Looks like your water is still good. Be right back,” she said as she held her palm up and wiggled her index finger and the two next to it. Before she left the doorway, she winked.

God, that felt good!

T.J. and Brady came bounding in like a couple of big cats, ready to play.

“It’s L.A. time, baby!” Brady said.

“What the fuck is that?” T.J. pointed to the gold cellophane encrusted bottle Rory found he was cradling.

“Peace offering. Mr. Richie Rich over there got his slaves to get him out of Dodge pronto. I guess he felt sorry for me.”

“Sure you didn’t give him a blow job to get that?” T.J. quipped.

“Don’t start with me. I’m not in the mood. Here.” He handed the bottle to T.J. “Get this fuckin’ thing out of my sight.”

“With pleasure.” T.J. smoothed over the crinkly cellophane. “This is old stuff. I’m guessing it cost him a couple hundred.”

“Whatever.”

“Something go on while I wasn’t looking? You guys know each other and just figure it out?”

“Nah, he was saying he was sorry for the accident.”

“Really?” Brady acted impressed. “They release him?”

“Just my fuckin’ luck. He’s going to the same hospital I’m being taken to in L.A.”

They heard the noise from a helicopter landing one floor above them. “Think that’s my ride,” Rory said. “You bring any of my clothes?”

“We screwed up, man. Sent it all home with the girls.”

“Speaking of girls,” Brady began. “Your lady sends her prayers and healing thoughts. Wanted you to know she would have stayed. T.J. and I had a heck of a time convincing her otherwise.”

Rory shrugged. He’d been thinking about her, but he wasn’t sure it was right to reach out to her. Things had gotten suddenly complicated. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

“You should call her, man,” T.J. added.

“She’s totally digging on you.” Brady added.

“Let’s get through all this first. I’ll call her when I get situated in L.A.”

Rory knew he needed some alone time first, just to figure out what to say. What
would
he say to her? He felt like it could be dangerous. He didn’t want to screw up any chance. Right now, leaving her alone was going to help his odds, regardless of whether or not it was considerate.

Paramedics arrived at the doorway. Rory heard sounds of staff and a gurney being unpacked. He glanced over at his remaining roommate, spreading his arms and hands out to the side. “Showtime, my man.”

The man grinned. “Everyone’s abandoning me. Gonna get kind of lonely without all the high drama.”

Rory had to chuckle at that one. “I’m sorry. But every time I looked over at you, you were sawing logs.”

“My wife says I fake it real nice.”

All four of them laughed. “Well, when I see something happening on TV, some place is blown up, and someone is rescued or a bunch of bad guys are taken out, I’ll think of you guys. I’ll tell my friends I met one once.” The man’s lower lip quivered.

“Thanks, man,” T.J. said, shaking the guy’s hand. “We appreciate that.”

“Good luck with your rehab. Hope you get to running after that pretty wife you’ve been talking about real soon,” Rory added.

“Been an honor, sir. Good luck with your surgery. But especially good luck with your dad.”