Sweet Affliction [Sweet Awakenings 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (3 page)

A piercing moment of dumbstruck realization fell on him. He thought he’d been safe. Suffering from fatigue and blood loss, he crawled to shelter and to hide from whoever had been shooting at him. He remembered seeing the barrel of a gun staring down at him right before he lost consciousness.

Oh shit, he thought to himself. He’d thought he swam to safety, but the sons of bitches who shot his friend had tracked him all the way to the beach where he ended up. All that fucking swimming to get away, and in the end he was dead anyway. That’s why he felt like he was floating. And the bright light…well, he guessed it was true what they said about the afterlife.

Knowing all this though, something still didn’t seem right. So his friend and he were killed by some foreign mercenaries. But arguing? In heaven? He sure as hell couldn’t be in hell. He was too damn happy. Hell was supposed to a whole lot scarier than bright lights and peaceful feelings of floating throughout the air.

It was the arguing. People didn’t argue in heaven. Did they? Granted he had never been to heaven before, but surely they had a no-bickering, no-raising-your-voice rule. He found it hard to believe that God would allow people to live in the eternal afterlife filled with angst and hostility.

“See now, look what you’ve done. He’s starting to wake up. He needs his rest. You mustn’t be so loud,” the man’s voice scolded the woman.

Even through his blurred vision he was able to make out the form of a large figure coming toward him. It was a man. The same man he’d heard talking just moments ago, he assumed. Whoever he was, he picked up something long and seemed to stare at it for several minutes. He felt the strangest sensation of his arm being raised in flight, much like that of a bird. Maybe he was flying. Shit, maybe he really was dead and God had made him an angel. Stranger shit had happened before, right?

He considered the possibility. Maybe it took a while to get used to your wings or something. Sure, he had killed his fair share of tangos in his day, but he’d always prayed to the lord after, asking for forgiveness and seeking redemption. Never having been forced to go to church when he was a boy, he was never quite sure of the right thing to do. Surely, those actions were close to what God might deem appropriate after you kill a man.

The woman’s voice interrupted him from his thoughts. She was past being distraught now. She was full-on crying. He could hear the sound of her voice cracking as she fought against her emotions. The poor thing was terrified and very shaken up by this man she kept referring to. He didn’t know who this man was, but heaven or no heaven he wanted to kick his ass. No man should make a woman cry like that. Women were gentle creatures to be cherished and looked after. They weren’t made for men to hold their power over them, making them fearful.

When he was used to his new surroundings he would give the woman a hug, anything to make her feel better. He wondered how long that would be as he listened to the couple continually go back and forth with raised voices. All he knew was the man they were fighting over was someone she feared and he respected. It all seemed so very strange. Too bad he couldn’t go back and tell the world how wrong they were. Heaven, in all its beauty and peace, still held conflict.

A strange feeling shot up his arm. He had felt it before. It seemed familiar. It was unpleasant, though he couldn’t remember why the feeling registered as something he’d experienced before. Perhaps going to heaven came with memory loss.

Ouch! What the fuck was that?

Any amount of serenity he felt just seconds ago suddenly vanished.
Pain
. That’s what it was. The mother of all pain shot through his body and seemed to be felt the strongest in his arm.

What the hell kind of heaven is this? A life ever after filled with people bitching at each other while he suffered in pain? He didn’t like this one damn bit. Maybe it wasn’t heaven though. Maybe he really was in hell. Paying penance for having killed all those people while serving his country was no surefire ticket to get in the pearly gates. Could it be that everyone had it wrong? Was hell really a place that mind fucks you, giving you the feeling of peace and tranquility right before they yank the rug out from underneath you and say, “Sorry Charlie, you be fucked!”

He couldn’t help but notice that the woman’s voice went from shaking and anxious to a feeling of concern and remorse. Something about this man again. He was racing or something to that effect. What the fuck was this jerk who was making her cry out racing for? She was obviously upset. He should be here tending to her. Insensitive men really pissed him off. They gave all the rest of them a bad name. Not that any of that mattered anymore. He was dead and all.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll give him another dose of morphine, and his heart rate will stabilize.”

“You’re sure?” the woman asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. I was trying to wean him off of it little by little so he could start to gain his strength back, but the trauma his body went through was too severe. It’s too soon.”

Morphine, huh? Well he must be in hell then. He can’t imagine anyone needing morphine in heaven. So the man they fought about so passionately was hurt and needed painkillers. Interesting.

“I didn’t mean those things I said. Honest, I didn’t. I’m just scared. If whoever did this finds out what you’ve done…”

He listened to the husky voice apologize to the man whom she’d been yelling at mere minutes ago. He found it so strange that this one man was affecting two people’s lives so much. He always had been a strong believer in the old adage, live and let live. It was foolish that these two were wasting so much of themselves on a man who was apparently nothing but a giant headache.

Wait. These two weren’t dead. They were very much alive. They didn’t sound like two restless spirits. Not that he knew what restless spirits sounded like, but the fear he’d sensed in her voice was accurate. She was afraid, afraid for her life. Whoever this mystery man was, it was obvious he was trouble with a capital T.

He could have continued with his thoughts, but pure ecstasy flooded his senses and wrapped him up in a warm blanket. He felt so happy and content. The pain he felt just a bit ago was miraculously gone. This time he truly was flying. He could all but see himself soaring up in the clouds with the eagles. His eyes, which were mere slits of foggy illusion, closed as he gave in to an awesome feeling of bliss.

* * * *

“Are you sure no one will come?”

“I am positive. You and I are the only ones who know about this room in the cellar.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m not so sure,” the woman continued to prod him.

“In all the time we’ve lived here, not one person has made mention of it. Obviously the doctor who lived here before us liked his secrets. Whatever he was into couldn’t have been legal.”

“It just seems so risky. Why didn’t you just call the local authorities and let them handle it?”

The man shook his head at her. She was always naïve, seeing the best in anyone and everyone. Even the corrupt Mexican Police terrorized everyone else in town with threats of potential accidents happening to their homes or family members if they didn’t pay the un-taxable under-the-table protection fee.

“Sweetheart, for the last time, I did what I felt I had to do at the time. Would I have done it again given the same set of circumstances a second time around? I don’t know. But I do know that in that single moment I was faced with a choice.”

“And you believe you’ve made the right one?” she questioned him.

“Yes, I do. This man, if he is who he appears to be, wouldn’t have been treated with any amount of respect or care. He probably would have died.”

“Another thing you keep saying. But you don’t know that, Dad.”

Frustrated and running out of patience, he snapped at his daughter. “No, I do not know that! I suspect it to be true though. He bears the tattoo of a trident. He had a United States Navy ID in his wallet. The man didn’t serve his country to be treated like a piece of shit like the local police.” He held up his hand in mock protest. “No! I don’t want to hear another word on the subject. I’m tired, and I need to rest.”

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I’ve been horrible to you. I haven’t even asked you how you’ve been feeling. I’m just so scared.” The young woman came to her father and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you, Dad.”

He kissed the woman who stood before him while he recalled memories of her dancing in a pink tutu. Her hair was up in pig tails, and she did the cutest little twirls on her tiptoes.

“I know, sweetheart. I love you, too.”

Adam came into the kitchen, freshly showered after his morning jog. The three-mile run did little to relieve the frustration he felt that two brothers had lost their lives while they had been sitting leisurely on a boat somewhere off Isla Coronado. Some of his tension subsided, if only a little, when he saw Chelsea standing in front of the sink, rinsing his plate.

“I would’ve gotten that, babe.”

She turned her head sideways and gave him a sarcastic grin. “Uh huh. Maybe in a few hours.”

He threw back his head in laughter. She knew him well and was right. He probably would’ve left it sitting there on the counter for hours before he bothered to even set it in the sink.

“Well maybe it just turns me on to see you standing there washing my dishes.”

Placing the sink in the dishwasher, she then closed it, wiped her hand on towel, and turned to him. “Wow, you horny? What
are
the odds?”

“Oh, I see we’re a wise ass this morning. Maybe I’ll have to spank you until you behave.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue but instead pulled her close to him and planted a firm hand on her ass.

“Ouch!”

“Shut it. You love it and you know it.”

The phone rang, interrupting their playful banter. “Hold that thought,” he told her.

“Hello?”

Adam walked into their living room, picked up the remote, and turned it on. “What channel?”

Chelsea followed him. “What is it?”

He held up a finger to his mouth to silence her. “Yeah, man, I’ll call you back.” He handed the phone to Chelsea and sat in one of the two chairs that flanked the sofa as he listened to the reporter.

“This is Amber Sorensen reporting live from Isla Coronado just off the coast of Mexico. The Department of Defense and the United States Navy have released the name of the other SEAL killed in the ambush of two nights ago by a yet-to-be-named terrorist organization. Commander Nick Slater was found alive but later pronounced dead-on-arrival after being transported to a local-area hospital.”

Adam closed his eyes in disbelief. Slater? What the fuck was going on? A recently retired SEAL and one who was set to get out in mere weeks?

“What a simply awful blow to the Naval Special Warfare community, Amber.”

“Indeed it is, Phil. In a sad and shocking twist of events, it seems that Commander Slater was also set to retire and had only a month left to serve. No official statement has been released, but it is believed that both men were unarmed and unprepared for the attacks that took their lives.”

“Thank you, Amber. Please keep us posted with any more news as it becomes available.”

“Certainly, Phil.”

Adam hit the power button and set the remote down on the coffee table. The news of Drake yesterday had been a big enough blow, but Slater, too? He was a damn good operator. Hell, they both were. All three of them had been on the operation to rescue Jack and Rex all those years back when things went high and right.

“Did you know him?”

His sweet wife’s soft voice was like a drug to his restless soul. Her hand covered his, and she laced her fingers underneath, grabbing on tight. He looked to her and wondered how the hell he ever ended up with someone like her. She was so petite and dainty, yet on the inside had a strength like no one he had ever known.

He squeezed her hand in return. “Yes. I knew him well.” Bringing her hand to his mouth, he gently kissed it.

“I’m so sorry, Adam.”

“Come here.”

He pulled her into his lap and pulled her head to lay into the crook of his neck. The position looked as though he was shielding her from harm, comforting her from pain, but in actuality holding her like this was what calmed him. It was selfish to admit, but he needed her. Many nights she had been a comfort to him when he’d awoken from a nightmare as he recalled the night his one-time fiancée and mother of his unborn child was murdered. Chelsea was his world, his strength.

Holding onto one another she asked, “What can I do?”

“Come with me when it’s time to go?”

She gave him a look of confusion. “Adam, I would go anywhere with you. You know that. But go where?”

“Coronado Island.”

Chelsea looked at him even more confused, but he appreciated her not pressing. If there was one thing his wife had learned about him, it was when to push and when to drop something. He was grateful for her smile.

“Of course I will.”

“Thanks, baby.”

* * * *

Jack walked into Rex’s house and gave his brother a knowing look of remorse. They were both thinking the same thing. Two men who’d helped ensure their future and saved their lives were now dead. It was fucked up on so many levels he couldn’t quite make sense of it.