Loved by a SEAL (3 page)

Mack turned away from the empty locker and stared into the box. “That’s everything. All he’s left behind. Doesn’t even fill half a damn cardboard box.”

Silently, Brody was thinking pretty much the same thing as what Mack had voiced aloud.

Speedy and Brody might as well be the same guy. No wife. No kids. No girlfriend even. Both completely focused on work and when not at work, focused on play.

But what did that leave behind?

When his corpse was rotting in the ground beneath a cold slab of stone with his name chiseled on it, what would he have left that would last?

Half a box full of junk that nobody’s gonna want.

Yeah, Chris would put it on a shelf somewhere, or he’d deliver it to their momma and she would cry over it for a while, but that would be it. It was still just a box full of crap.

“You still wanna go out?” Rocky asked softly.

“Yeah.” Now more than ever. “Maybe skip the ribs and go right to the club?”

“Good idea.” Rocky pressed his palm to his stomach, probably feeling as sick as Brody.

Mack glanced up. “Where you going?”

“Strip club. Wanna come?” Brody asked, not wanting to exclude Mack but not sure he was up for going out.

Mack let out a huff of breath tinged with a humorless laugh. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

Brody figured they all needed the same thing right about now . . . a reminder that even though Speedy was gone, they were still alive.

Rocky drove Brody over in his truck while Mack followed behind on his motorcycle. They should have taken one vehicle. Chances were good they’d all be too shitfaced to drive home later anyway.

Odds were also good that after losing his teammate Mack would be drinking heaviest of all. More than he should if he was going to get on that bike later.
 

Too late to change the plans now. They were already at the club by the time Brody considered the foolishness of the transportation arrangements.

Luckily the number for the cab company was taped to the phone on the bar and probably programmed into every one of their cell phones. They’d use it if they needed it. Plenty of vehicles were left at the club overnight after the driver had a few too many. That would be nothing new.

Brody waited for Rocky to pull the truck into a spot and cut the engine before he unbuckled his seat belt and swung the passenger door open.

They were there early, not that time had any meaning inside the club with its blacked out windows and perpetually dim interior. There’d be girls riding the poles from noon until closing time.

All being there early in the evening meant was that it wasn’t packed inside yet. They found a table off to the side where they could still see the stage but be away from the few guys already planted up front ogling the girls.

“I got first round.” Brody headed directly for the bar, not waiting to hear what the others wanted. There was only one drink appropriate to toast their lost friend.

He leaned against the bar as the burly male bartender, who could easily double as a bouncer, came over. “What can I get for you?”

“Scotch. Single malt. Oldest you got. Three, straight up.”

The bartender wore a sympathetic gaze as he took in what was likely a grim expression on Brody’s face. The man had probably figured out this was not some bachelor party or celebration.

He nodded and moved to get the drinks.

Tending bar at a club right outside the back gate of the base, the man had probably seen quite a few sailors here toasting fallen brothers.

He returned with not three but four glasses and the bottle. He poured two, lifting one in the air himself as he waited.

Brody lifted the other filled glass. When the bartender downed the shot, Brody did the same.

The man put his glass under the bar and proceeded to fill the three glasses. “This round’s on the house.”

It was a kind gesture, but Brody could only guess this shit wasn’t cheap. “Thanks, but I don’t want you to get in trouble—”
 

He reached for his wallet as a gruff laugh answered his protest.

“I won’t get in trouble. I own this place. And before that I served my twenty years. I know that look on your face. I’ve seen it before. Hell, I’ve worn it myself. Let me buy you guys this round. Give the girls a nice tip before you leave tonight and we’ll call it even.”

Brody didn’t argue with him. “Thank you. I appreciate it. So when did you buy the club? I’m here a lot and I’ve never seen you.”

“Guess it’s been about six months now.” His bushy brows drew low. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you here before though.”

Obviously a lot could change in six months. Brody drew in a breath. “Yeah, well, I haven’t been around for awhile.”

“Gotcha.” The owner pushed the filled glasses forward.

Brody grabbed two in one hand and one in the other. “Thanks again.”

The man tipped his head and then moved to take care of a barely clad waitress who’d come up to the bar.

As the bass pounded through the sound system, Brody made his way across the floor, dodging tables and chairs until he reached their spot.

There he planted the glasses down with a clunk. “On the house. The new owner’s a veteran.”

Rocky raised a brow. “Nice.”

Mack didn’t say anything as he reached for the glass nearest him.

Any loss, no matter which team, hit all SEALs hard, but this one was hitting Mack hardest.

Brody had known Speedy and liked him. They’d gone through Green Team training together so he knew him pretty well, but they weren’t as close as Mack and Speedy had been from serving in the same unit. Brody didn’t feel the responsibility that he saw weighing on Mack’s shoulders.

That feeling that he could have done something to prevent it. That it could have easily been him instead.

There but for the grace of God go I.

They all knew that to be true.

Brody raised his glass. “To Speedy.”

“To Speedy.” Rocky and Mack echoed the toast, and then there were three empty glasses on the table.

The cocktail waitress, trained to notice these things, was there in seconds. “Another round?”

Not of scotch or he’d be under the table. “Beer for me.” Brody turned to his two companions. “Rocky?”

“Beer for me too.”

“Mack?”

Mack nodded.

“Three beers.” Brody stood and wrestled his wallet out of his pocket. He pulled out his credit card and tossed it on her tray. He was saving his cash for other purposes. “Put it on that.”

“You got it.”

They waited in silence. Brody knew to give Mack time and space. They were there if he needed to talk. They’d still be there if he didn’t want to.

In the meantime, life went on around them.

The song changed and so did the dancer. A brunette replaced the bleach blonde on stage, her sequined G-string a different color than the last girl’s had been, but aside from hair and costume the girls were pretty much interchangeable.

So it would go, all day and until the wee hours of the night.

“My father had emailed and said he needed to talk to me.” Mack’s words brought Brody’s attention back to his friends. “We arranged a time for a phone call. We had trouble getting a clear line so I was running late. We’d just gotten on when I was scheduled to go out. Speedy volunteered to go out with the first truck and said I could follow in the second one, to give me a few more minutes.”

“Where were you guys?” Rocky asked. “We’ve been gone so long I didn’t even know you were OCONUS.”

The waitress took that moment to appear with their order. They had to wait for Mack’s answer as Brody took the time to add a tip and sign the credit card receipt.

Once the waitress was gone again, Mack reached for one of the beers and took a long swallow.

“We were trying to take back fucking Fallujah.” Mack kept his voice low as he spoke. Brody and Rocky leaned in to hear him. “As if enough blood wasn’t shed the first time, now we have to go fight to get it back. The problem is it feels like fucking ISIS is better organized than the Iraqi army we left in charge when we pulled out.”

Brody let out a sigh at the truth of what Mack said. It did feel like ISIS had the upper hand. Not just organizationally, but they didn’t have to play by the rules like the U.S. troops did.

ISIS triumphed by using fear and perpetrating crimes against humanity. Killing the males of the villages they raided. Selling the females, even young girls, as sex slaves to be raped repeatedly by their new
owners
. Preaching a religious doctrine that, no matter how crazy it sounded to a Westerner’s ear, seemed to get them an unending supply of followers and fighters. Young, fresh and angry men, ready to kill and die for a cause Brody doubted some of them even understood completely.

“I’m sorry, man.” Rocky leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table around his beer. “But you can’t blame yourself because of your dad’s phone call.”

“I don’t. I blame the bastard behind that scope.” Mack blew out a breath and then tipped his bottle back, draining a good portion of it. “Still, it was supposed to be me. Not him.”

The brunette was still doing her thing up on stage as they sat contemplating their mortality. Or maybe just their beer.

Hell, a man in his line of work could only think so long about the fact they could, and most likely would, be hurt or killed in the line of duty.

Eventually you had to move on to other thoughts or it could drive you crazy.

A cute stripper he’d never seen before moved across the floor, eyeballing their group. Brody made eye contact. She smiled and he nodded.

He downed the last of his beer and stood. “I’m heading to the back room for a bit.”

“A little soon in the evening for that, no?” Rocky lifted a brow.

“It’s been six months. So no, it ain’t too soon at all.” Brody lifted his chin in Mack’s direction. “You gonna be here when I get back?”

Mack glanced up and Brody saw the weariness beneath what looked like anger. Not anger at Brody, but more likely at all the other people involved. At the sniper for making the shot. At his dad for requesting that call. Even at Speedy for taking the bullet and leaving Mack with the guilt of being a survivor while his friend was dead in his place.

Every one of Mack’s emotions made complete sense to Brody, but still there was nothing he could do about any of them.

“I’ll probably head out right after I finish this.” Mack held up his beer. “Thanks for buying, man.”

“Anytime.” God willing next time the occasion would be a happy one. Brody glanced at Rocky. “I’ll be right back.”

Rocky grinned. “I’ll be here so don’t rush on account of me.”

Brody had no intention of rushing, but after six months of being deprived, his body might have other ideas.

The dancer sidled up closer and looked up at Brody as he stood over her. “Private dance?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He looked her over. Her hair was blond, though judging by her complexion that was from a bottle, not nature.

Tall but curvy with big brilliant eyes, she reminded him enough of his one and only serious relationship that he should know better than to go in back with her.

Letting a stripper who brought to mind the only girl who’d ever gotten beneath his skin get him off was pretty messed up, but Brody had never claimed to be otherwise.

He’d come in with enough cash that in exchange she should be willing to make him forget the name of any other girl he’d ever been with.

Hell, hopefully for a big enough tip she’d make him forget his own name for a little while too.

CHAPTER 4

 
“Why is no one else out tonight?” Brody glanced around the club and didn’t know a soul, save for Rocky.

Not that he could muster the energy to care all that much. The blonde had left him feeling boneless—no pun intended. At the moment it was all he could do to lift his beer.

“No clue. Isn’t it Friday?” Rocky asked.

Brody thought about it for a moment. They’d cooled their heels at the transit center in Romania on the way home from Turkey for how many days? Two maybe?