SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) (30 page)

Though someone stood up, Rory knew neither group was any threat to each other. The man sat down and there was a peel of laughter and more coughing.

As they rounded one of a set of six small metal warehouses, they came upon three vehicles that didn’t look like they belonged in the area. One was a BMW, one a brand new Buick compact, and the other was a fairly new Prius with temporary plates.

Tyler threw a rock at the back of Kyle’s thigh and pointed to a window with the glass blown out of it on the backside of the building. Kyle looked inside and then motioned for Rory.

He found himself swallowing hard, the back of his tongue and throat suddenly parched, not being sure what he’d find there.

A body lay prone on the mattress as if sleeping. A man in western garb with a nice pair of slacks and a long-sleeved, apparently starched, white shirt. Rory thought he might be some kind of hostage. Kyle looked up at him and Rory shook his head. Megan was so small, if this man were covering her, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell. And they couldn’t determine if he was asleep or dead. Or if he had someone dead or asleep beneath him.

Tyler pointed to his boots and that was when Rory saw his shoes neatly stowed at the foot of the mattress. Not knowing if Megan was sharing the mattress with this man still worried him, but somehow he couldn’t believe that could have happened. The body inside appeared not to be breathing.

Fredo held up five fingers and tossed a percussion bomb into the room with a five-second delay. As the flash went off, T.J. and Brady broke down the front door, which literally shattered under their boots. Kyle and Tyler covered the doorway coming from the front of the warehouse. The door flew open and both SEALs managed to hit three young men in the shins with several rounds. Their howls as they rolled around the floor, holding their shattered lower leg bones pierced the canyon. It smelled like hell, looked like an evil painting of discord and destruction, and now with their screams it sounded like hell.

Rory could hear T.J.’s distinctive swearing, which was louder than the sound of the BMW roaring to life. A fourth assailant had found an exit from the building, or perhaps was already outside and had taken off in one of the vehicles. Kyle was immediately on the phone, calling Collins and getting local law enforcement involved.

“I can get him, Kyle,” T.J. hollered, but Kyle shook his head and continued his phone conversation. Rory searched the front room frantically without finding any trace of Megan.

Until he found her purse. Drops of dark brown blood dotted one side of the purse. The handles were still damp with fresh blood. Her wallet, her cell phone and keys were still inside. He found himself fingering the single tube of red lipstick. He dropped the purse and ran to the adjoining room.

Cooper was attending to the man. Brady stood behind Rory, who now inched forward. Tyler had stepped through the window and watched as Cooper rolled him over onto his back. Nothing but a bloody, filthy mattress was underneath him.

Fredo swore in Spanish and crossed himself. The broken end of a beer bottle pierced Tariq’s skull. It had impaled him in his right eye socket. Underneath his jaw flaps of bloody muscle hung from a deep gash, probably made by the same object.

“Son of a bitch,” T.J. swore.

Rory was suddenly dizzy. He nearly fell backward, but Brady collected him under the armpits. He recognized the signs of shock. His clammy lips turned up in a half smile, his eyes melting from tears which came pouring out as he sobbed.

“She’s—she’s beautiful. Look what she did. Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” Rory sobbed.

Tyler and Brady scrunched up their noses and placed their hands on their hips.

“But where the fuck is she?” T.J. asked.

Tyler ran to the window ledge, searching outside and examining the glass at the floor. “Blood all over here. She’s probably out there.” He pointed to the graveyard of broken things. “Judging from the amount of blood, she won’t get far.”

Rory whipped past Tyler, nearly toppling the man, struggling to get his frame through the window opening. He heard someone chuckling behind him, but he was far from caring. He heard Fredo make a comment he didn’t have time to stop and appreciate fully.

“Man. Those two get married? Remind me not to get that bitch knives for a wedding present. She gonna go all Bobbitt on him if she gets pissed.”

‡

M
egan was free
at last, free to run with the wind in her face. Her arms swung free. Her lungs took in the salty air. She ran barefoot through puddles, splashing mud up on to her pant legs. The beautiful grey and white smoke of the bonfire curling up into the blue San Diego sky beckoned her like a wizard’s bony hand. Sea birds circled and bobbed, playing with dangling pieces of white and brown fast food wrappers.

She ran past a dented turquoise refrigerator and a flattened red bicycle. A fifties-style pickup truck with a chalky green patina lay on its side. Inside an abandoned car nearby the opened trunk revealed a man sleeping, curled in a torn navy blue comforter, his little dog asleep at his feet.

Someone had piled boxes, newspapers, and magazines in an old grocery cart which was stuck in the mud, a torn Chinese umbrella attached to the handle. As she drew close to that graceful plume and the semicircle of old men warming themselves by the fire, she called out.

“Hello! Can you help me?” she rasped desperately into the morning fog, waving one arm above her head, still clutching the computer with her other. Her voice echoed across the rust and green grasses of the salt marsh. A hightop red canvas tennis shoe with no laces sat atop a cracked porcelain toilet bowl.

Just as she
came upon them, she heard a small explosion and the report of automatic gunfire coming from behind her.

She didn’t get the reception she expected. People started scurrying into the bushes. One man whipped around as he stood to face her, his eyes wide in horror as he backed up and tripped over the log he’d been sitting on. He quickly scrambled to his feet, covered in mud and ran in the opposite direction.

She watched as several others ran into the bushes or followed the first man toward the rustic harbor, cursing, and some yelling for her to stay away. A yellow dog barked at her, showing its fangs. Its owner gave up trying to get the dog to follow him and abandoned the mutt, fleeing off into the brush. Not a single soul came within thirty feet of her.

She turned in the direction from which she had come and didn’t see any activity. Didn’t hear a thing.

Her lungs heaving, she considered running further, chasing for help, but realized she was too weak and her feet hurt. On a stump by the roaring fire, she placed the computer out of the mud, and sat gasping for air as she began picking glass out of her soles. She found a water bottle nearby and washed what she could of her wounds quickly. She found a pair of discarded socks slipping them on her feet as she searched for the men with guns coming after her. She was prepared to run more, picked up the computer and began urgently looking for a place to hide.

Then she heard the voice of her beloved. Rory was calling to her, screaming her name. As she stood, she saw him, one hand reaching to the sky, trying to get her attention. She ran as fast as she could toward him. He was running in her direction, and at last she slammed into his arms and they fell back in the mud, Rory holding her carefully above him. The computer was stuck between them, but she didn’t care.

“Rory! I did it. I survived!” She was breathlessly trying to kiss him, climbing up onto his body, hugging him close, and tucking her head under his chin.

“You did, baby. I’m so fuckin’ happy you’re alive,” he said as he squeezed her back, and then she sensed him stiffen beneath her.

She arched back so she could look down into his face. Rory’s mouth dropped open, his brow furled as his eyes scanned her. She smiled and knew her smile was lopsided, but she didn’t care. She bent down to kiss him and he held her at arm’s length, scooting back on his rear and then standing up. She was left kneeling in the mud.

“Rory, I got the computer. I didn’t forget.” She said as she extended the laptop to him. He stowed it quickly in his backpack, and seemed to reconsider his earlier move, leaning forward to give her a hand, but didn’t hold her body. His frown intensified as he wrinkled his nose, looked at her chest and the caked remnants of the bloody nose she’d had for two days. She watched him study her whole body, lighting over her waist and then moving down her thighs.

“I’m
okay
, Rory,” she said, reaching out to the sides. “I’m alive. And I love you!”

She was going to run into his arms again, but he was quicker than she was. “Rory? What’s the matter?”

He was shaking his head, searching for something to say, taking a step backward with each step forward she was making. He looked down at her feet and she allowed her eyes to follow his. Her lower legs were coated in brown mud. Blood pooled between her toes into the dirty socks as she attempted to step closer to him and over a small puddle.

With her glad heart beating loudly in her chest, she tilted her head and extended her arms again to him. “Rory, please.”

Then it hit her. The terrible odor of the inlet and its decaying remains was enhanced by another familiar smell. Something she’d gotten used to in the small warehouse, but outside, the fresh light of morning sent something wafting up to her nostrils. Her legs were covered in human or animal feces and her pants stunk with the pungent odor of her own urine.

And what her face must have looked like!

At last, he relaxed and began to laugh.

“Rory!”

He could hardly contain himself.

“Sweetheart, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my whole life. I can’t believe what you did today.”

Rory came over and before she could object, picked her up, one arm under her back and one under her knees. She felt light as a feather, swept her arms around his neck, snuggled her head under his chin, and giggled.

What an apparition it must have been, she thought afterwards. The men on Rory’s Team looked at her as if she was a green alien from some strange planet. Normally very talkative, she didn’t hear them utter a word. Soon police cars, a fire truck, and three paramedic units arrived. One pair began working on her, examining her nose and her cheek amidst the backdrop of screaming from the injured young boys being treated by other personnel.

She was given some warm towels to wash her face and hands. Behind a blanket, she was allowed to clean up and to get out of her filthy clothes. She put on a pair of hospital scrubs, was given a toothbrush and a brush for her hair. Rory stayed plastered to her side and getting in the way such that the paramedics had to ask him to leave the perimeter. And still he stayed right at her side. The rescue staff put her on the gurney for transport to the hospital. Rory jumped into the van and then searched and got Kyle’s permission to go with her.

Her last memory of the scene was hearing the sirens as the other vans left ahead of hers. She watched the SEALs huddled behind one of two cars in front of the warehouse. They were pointing to something on the bumper of a vehicle without plates.

On the right was a sticker that said
Give Peace A Chance.

On the left, beginning and ending with a Peace symbol, was the sticker that read
Make Love Not War.

‡

R
ory was nervous
about accepting Corrigan’s offer to spend the weekend at the Hotel Del, since he always paid his own way and didn’t consider himself a charity case. But Corrigan had rented a suite that must have cost the man more than Rory made in half a year. The room was filled with flowers too. He’d spared no expense. A platter of gourmet finger foods and cheeses was set on a silver tray. They had an iced bottle of champagne they’d already opened.

Corrigan insisted he be allowed to drop by and promised he’d only take a few minutes of their time. With the mission completed, the SEALs cleared of any wrongdoing in the shooting of the terrorists, Corrigan and Megan successfully rescued and mending, there wasn’t anything that could dampen Rory’s mood. He figured he could give him just five minutes. And then no one would see either him or Megan for a week.