The Navy's Ghost (Bad Boys of Beta Squad) (10 page)

“I will, thanks.” Jim cleared his throat, trying to tell himself
he’d done the right thing. “You gonna be all right now?”

“Yeah, I won’t let you down, LT.”

He swore he heard her emphasize ‘you’. He tried to breathe around the ache in his chest but his lungs couldn’t expand and he released Chris’s hand, rising.

“Good. I’m gonna get something to eat. You want anything?”

A half-smile slid over her face. “Yeah, burger and fries. Large Coke.”

“Right. What about you, Hunter?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Magic’s voice held no inflection, but his eyes screamed puzzled disgust at Jim.

Retro turned away from the accusing stares, holding it together long enough to get out of the room. He’d deal with the rest of the Squad by explaining
the situation report, but he couldn’t stay facing the two people he loved most but could never have. The hallway shimmered brightly in comparison to Ghost’s room, but world had never seemed so bleak to Retro.

PART 2
: For Better or For Worse

Chapter
Seven

Chris stared at the
Purple Heart nestled in the blue satin of its case and swallowed against the sick feeling in her gut. The medal made it official. Ironically, she’d been awarded the medal on the same day as her promotion to lieutenant. She suspected Lieutenant Commander Whittleton had done it to mitigate the loss of active duty in the Teams.

And it was a great honor. But Beta Squad had been on an op and couldn’t attend the ceremony. Chris’s best friend Jaime had driven down from San Francisco to come with Chris’s mom, but the honor faded without the men she
loved attending. Her mother had only compounded Chris’s sense of loss when she professed her relief at Chris’s change in status.
Yeah, no longer active or with my Team.
But hey, she’d get a bigger paycheck.

“More pay, ’cause that’s how we compensate for the loss of a dream.” Chris shoved the medal case in her pocket and tossed back the last of her brandy. “Yeah, more money always fixes everything.”

Except a broken body.

Healing from the injury in the Nicaraguan warehouse didn’t take as long as Chris feared, but longer than she’d hoped. The seasons had shifted from early spring into searing mid summer and she’d missed most of it in physical therapy
.

She’d abided by Dr. Meecham’s rules about recovery, but she’d focused her attention on what she wanted and her body had bowed to her will. For the most part. She still had a noticeable limp and
no amount of running or stretching diminished it. Instead of a cane, she’d bought a hiking stick and she’d practiced with it ruthlessly.

The
June sun had set for the night and Chris breathed in the heated sea air as she hobbled away from the Surf ’N Turf bar. She could have parked closer, but she liked the added exercise to stretch the protesting muscles, and now she tried to remember where she’d parked.

She’d heard the squad had returned that evening at eighteen thirty from Magic’s text, but she hadn’t really wanted to talk to them. She’d found the medal case in her purse when she’d sat down at the bar, and all her frustrations came crashing onto her shoulders. She’d turned off her phone and started drinking.

And now I’m walking. Well, limping, These boots were made for limpin’…

At least she had a job to look forward to. Maybe. Sort of. Her mind stuttered to a stop as her hiking stick caught a crack in the pavement and she swung wildly around.
Shit, I’m drunk.
She giggled as she pivoted around her bad leg. When she stopped, her gaze snagged on the lurid glow of a neon sign depicting a comic thought bubble and the words “Think Ink Tattoos”.

Music from a famous grunge band rattled onto the sidewalk from the open doorway and Chris swayed to its thumping beat mirroring her heartbeat. SEALs weren’t allowed to have tattoos. Distinguishing marks of any kind endangered their lives.

But I’m not an active SEAL anymore, am I?

The urge to
wear permanent art grabbed Chris by the throat and she staggered into the tattoo shop, her mind already decorating her skin.

“Hi, welcome to Think Ink Tattoos.” The young man behind the counter had more jewelry in various parts of his face than most jewelry boxes could hold, but his friendly smile beckoned her own. “What can I do you for?”

Chris snorted. “I want a tattoo.”

He nodded. “Did you have something in mind? We have some nice ones on the wall here.”

Chris scanned the cartoony looking stars, fairies, hearts and butterflies on the wall behind him, but she shook her head. “No, I want a Celtic knot. A triad of three rings. And I want it about this big.” She held up her hands softball-width apart.

“Okay. Do you have a drawing or something so we get it right?”

She shook her head again. “Can you make the central knot look like a heart?”

“Let me think. Here, fill out this release form, and I’ll try to draw something up.”

Chris scratched her initials and signed the bottom of the form before scanning the shop. Despite her expectations, the waiting room was clean and held well-kept velour furniture. Framed photos of tattoo work hung around the small space and crisp photo books rested on the glass coffee table. Chris hobbled to a chair and dropped into it, reaching for a book.

“Are all these done by you
?” She flipped through the book full of intricate flowers and bold tribal tattoos. “They’re really good.”

“Me and my partner,
Zamira Ironwood. She does all the flowers and nature artwork.” He made a few more strokes on the paper then came around the counter to hand it to her. “Is this what you were thinking of?”

A
trinity Celtic weave arched into a heart in the center with elegant knots making it one continuous line. The entire design stretched no more than six inches to each apex and the loops inside almost resembled words. Chris sighed with joy and a grin pulled her lips.

“That’s perfect
.” She glanced up at him. “Can I put it anywhere?”

“Sure. Where
’s your first choice?”

Chris instructed him where she wanted the placement of the tattoo then let him get to work.
The buzz of the needle didn’t even hurt and she closed her eyes, relaxing into the leather bench.

“Everything okay?”

“All good. It doesn’t hurt at all. Shouldn’t it hurt?”

He snorted. “It does for most people.”

They didn’t speak for the rest of the tattoo session and the rhythm of the artist’s needle dropped her into a quick nap trance. Visions of Retro and Magic filled her mind, how they fit into her life like the loops of the tattoo. They were part of her now and she had to keep them with her, even if only in ink. Surprise hit her when the artist said he’d finished and she should keep the bandages on it for at least twenty-four hours. Chris agreed as she dressed and paid for her tat before wandering back out the door.

I guess that l
ieutenant’s pay is good for something.

The hot wind winding through the Coronado streets filled Chris’s mind with memories of other hot places she’d spent with her squad
. Snippets of conversation in Spanish drifted past her ears and the scents of spicy food filled her nose. Palm trees swayed overhead, dappling the street ahead with flickering light from the street lamps. The whole world shifted and she staggered forward into a hot, tropical night south of the border. All her senses sharpened as she slunk through the shadows, the pain at her back egging her on.

She had to get back to the
LZ where her squad awaited her and she’d be safe. Chris couldn’t recall how she’d gotten separated, but worrying about the past cost precious energy she didn’t have to waste.

Shadows and light shifted around her as she crept through the darkness. Natives appeared briefly along her path, but she knew the language and wore the costume of their home so well, no one challenged her. She kept her focus on the goal.
Gotta get back to my squad, my team. They’re waiting for me at the LZ.

Pushing through some low-lying shrubs, she paused and scanned the open space before her. A ranch style house with a surrounding porch sat mostly darkened with one truck parked in the driveway. One light burned in the window, the all-clear signal for any returning squad member. Despite the apparent message, Chris sniffed the air. The humidity had increased during her
trek, heralding a storm, and she knew she didn’t have much time to get inside.

Surveilling the yard, Chris waited and listened. A dog barked in the distance
and the palms rattled in the wind, but everything remained still. A shadow moved across the window and Chris tensed.
I know this is the right place.
Taking a deep breath, she sprinted across the exposed space to the darkness of the porch and flattened herself against the wall beside the door. The pain in her back sent up a complaint, but she ignored in it. Discovery could happen anytime, anywhere, and in her disabled state, she couldn’t afford detection.

Chris held her breath a moment, listening for adversaries, but the pain in her urged her to get to safety fast. She rolled over her shoulder and knocked on the door, scanning the world around her while she waited. Her heart thundered in her ears as time ticked by in a crawl and she prayed the squad rested inside.

The door opened, a patch of warm light bathing the threshold, and Magic’s body filled the doorway. The scents of sandalwood and sweat wafted out with him, and she frowned. He didn’t look like he’d been working out.

“Ghost?
Thank God. We’ve been lookin’ for you. Are you okay?”

Chris slid past him without a word. The danger of talking on the doorstep overshadowed her manners and she had to get under cover.

“Chris?”

She turned and took in Magic’s appearance. Low slung
jeans covered his legs and a light blue shirt showed beneath his leather jacket. He smelled like sweat and adrenaline, and her guts twisted. She scanned the room looking for the others, but nothing seemed right. What happened to the Squad? Hadn’t they made it back? Chris’s stomach heaved and staggered to the side. Todd lunged to catch her.

“Whoa, darlin’. Here, come and sit down for a minute.” He wrapped his arms around her and inhaled sharply. “Damn, Ghost, you smell like an entire platoon on shore leave.
”

“Gonna throw up.”

“Aw, hell. C’mon, let’s get you to the head.”

Confusion swirled through Chris’s mind as Todd helped her
the bathroom. Where had the tropical night and the squad gone? When had they come home to Coronado? She emptied her stomach, releasing her questions along with her guts.

“Feel better?” Todd held her hair out of her face as she wiped her mouth.

“Yeah. Think so.” She let him escort her to the couch. “Where’s the squad? Where’s Retro?”

“
The squad’s at home on base, I’d imagine, but Retro’s out lookin’ for you like I was. Where have you been, Chris?”

She shook her head. “No, no. They were on a mission. They left me behind and didn’t come
.” The loss of their company at her awards ceremonies clutched her heart and tears gathered in her eyes. “So I went to find them, like I did at SERE. They were supposed to be here, Magic. Why aren’t they here? I was supposed to be safe. I was supposed to be with my team.”

Chris
scanned the room and nothing made sense. Instead of a dirty shack in the tropical forest, clean tile floor and plush furnishings met her gaze. Everything smelled like Magic and missed opportunities. She swung her gaze back to the tall, sexy man in front of her.

“Where am I?”

****

Todd’s heart contracted at the bewildered pain in Chris’s face and he cr
ouched in front of her, tossing his jacket to the side.

“You’re at my house, Chris.”

“How did I get here?” She swung her gaze around the house again, but the confusion remained embedded in her expression.

“I don’t know, darlin’.” God, he hoped she hadn’t driven in her state of inebriation. He swore they could pickle cucumbers with her breath alone.

“My back hurts.” She bent forward and folded over her thighs. He feared she’d hurl whatever was left in her stomach, but the sight of a bandage under her shirt distracted him.

“What have you done to your back, Ghost?”

“I like it when you call me that, Magic. We’re best friends, right?” She tilted her head and peered up at him through the curtain of her loose hair.

“We are.” He nodded, but reached for her shirt. “What’s wrong with your back?”

Her expression fell. “I don’t remember. It hurts.”

Given the size of the bandage stretching across her lower back, he could well understand why. The s
mell emanating from the wound didn’t resemble raw skin and blood, and he frowned. In all his years as a medic, he hadn’t caught a odor like it and he grasped the edges of the tape to see what the bandage hid.

“But you weren’t there, Magic.”

“What?” Todd stopped and glanced down at Chris’s bowed head.

“You weren’t there. Did you know they gave me the
Purple Heart and promoted me to lieutenant all in one day?” Despite the great honors heaped on her, her voice filled with heartbroken despair. “No one was there who really mattered. No one who understood. My team is gone.”

“Aw, hell, Ghost, I’m sorry.” Todd sat down on the couch beside her and gathered her into his arms. Beta Squad hadn’t returned in time for the ceremony. He’d known she’d been awarded the Purple Heart, but her elevation in rank came as a surprise.
She deserves it and more.
She deserved to be surrounded by the men who knew her best.
And we weren’t fuckin’ there.
“You know me’n Retro are so damn proud of you, though, right? I’m pretty sure the whole squad is. I wish we could’ve been there.”

“I needed you, Magic, and you weren’t there. I needed you and Retro. I still need you.”

Her abject misery tore at his heart and he kicked himself for not paying closer attention.
This is the woman you love? What the hell’s wrong with you?