Whiskey Tribute: A Trident Security Series Novella - Book 5.5 (2 page)

Fourteen Years Ago

“Dude, there she is.”

Curt didn’t know who or what Eric was talking about because
he was too busy checking out the new SEAL bunnies who’d shown up at The
Clamshell, a bar near the Little Creek, Virginia naval base. There were two
categories of bunnies—chicks who wanted to bang a SEAL for bragging rights, and
those who wanted to marry one of the elite men. Curt was only interested in the
ones in the former group. One-night-stands, maybe a few-night-stands and then
move on. At twenty-five, he had no desire to settle down anytime soon.

His buddy smacked his upper arm. “Dude, whatta think?”

“About what?” He winked at a cute, curvy blonde giving him
the eye. When she giggled and blushed, he knew he’d found tonight’s conquest.
While some of the team had gone to a local BDSM club they frequented when the
team was INCONUS, a few others had come here instead. Curt had no problem with
his teammates being in the lifestyle, he just didn’t get the whole concept of
it. Yeah, a pair of handcuffs and blindfold could definitely make an evening
fun. If a woman wanted to put the cuffs on him and cover his eyes while she
sucked him off before riding him cowgirl style, then who was he to complain?
But he didn’t care for the Master/submissive thing.

“That chick, Dana, I told you about.” Eric stood and waved
over the crowd. He raised his voice to be heard over the music blaring from the
jukebox and the chatter going on around them. “Hey, Dana! Over here!”

Turning his head to see who his friend was yelling at, Curt
spotted an attractive brunette weaving through the bar full of patrons on her
way to their table. “
That’s
the chick with the flat tire you helped fix
this morning? Bow-chicka-wow-wow. Damn, bro, why doesn’t shit like that happen
to me with hotties like that? I get the old grannies.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Eric warned in a low voice just before
the pretty, young woman reached them. Being a gentleman, Curt stood as Eric
greeted her. “Hey, Dana. Glad you could make it. This is my buddy, Curt
Bannerman…aaaaaand, I just realized I didn’t get your last name earlier.”

She smiled at Eric, before holding her hand out to Curt. “It’s
Goodman. Dana Goodman. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here, darling.” Now that she was right in front of him,
he saw her eyes were the color of milk chocolate. She stood about five-foot-eight
and had curves that would have most heterosexual males drooling over her.
Glancing around, he saw a lot of the guys ogling her ass and he was tempted to
ask her to turn around, so he could check it out himself.
Down boy. Your
buddy saw her first. Bros before hoes.

Eric pulled out a chair for her. “Here. Have a seat. Can I
get you something to drink? Elmer grab the waitress so we can get Dana a drink.”

Holy crap
. Curt eyed his friend with amusement. He’d
never seen the guy this nervous around a woman before. Hell, he had never seen
him this nervous in combat for fuck’s sake. Flagging their waitress, he ordered
the rum and coke which Dana asked for and two more beers. Eric was going to
need one to chill out.

“Why Elmer?”

“
Huh
? Oh.” He took a quick swig of his beer before
explaining it to her. “It’s my call sign. Back in basic training, I scored the
highest in firearms. Our drill instructor asked me where I learned to shoot and
I told him I’d been hunting rabbits since I was a kid. So he dubbed me Elmer,
as in Elmer Fudd…huntin’ wabbits.”

She chuckled…not giggled, but chuckled. He knew then and
there she wasn’t a SEAL bunny—just an honest to goodness woman, who was
interested in the guy who had stopped and changed her tire. She eyed Eric with
curiosity. “So what about you? What’s your call sign? And yes, I know they are
call signs and not nicknames. My cousin is in the Navy and serving on a sub
somewhere in the Pacific, and my dad’s retired from the Air Force.”

Eric rolled his eyes. He was one of the guys who got stuck
with a call sign he wasn’t thrilled with. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to pick
it, or have any say in the matter, and if you hated what you ended up with, it
was all the more reason for everyone to use it. It was best if you didn’t bitch
about it, either, because you might end up with one even worse than that. “Since
Elmer was my best friend since day one of BT, I ended up being tagged ‘Wabbit’,
which I’ll never forgive him for.”

Laughing, Curt smacked his buddy on the back. “Sure you will,
you wascally wabbit!”

“Hey, Dana.”

The trio looked up to see two other women, about Dana’s
approximate age of twenty-four, had stopped beside the table. Not bad, Curt
thought to himself and hoped they would be joining them. The two dark-haired
beauties erased the cute blonde at the bar from his mind. Picking which one to
hit on was going to be difficult…but enjoyable.

Both Curt and he stood as Dana introduced them to her friends.
“Eric and Curt, this is Vanessa and Rebekah. I asked them to meet us if that’s
okay?”

Her gaze was on Eric as she spoke. She was obviously as
hooked on him as he was on her, but she’d still been a smart girl, bringing her
friends along, in case the object of her affection turned into a creep—which
Curt knew he wouldn’t. Eric may have had his share of women dropping at his
feet to suck his dick or whatever, but Curt had never heard the man disrespect
a woman in the entire time he’d known him. After seven years, he knew the guy
well.

While Curt pulled out the chair next to him for one of the women
to sit on, Eric snatched another chair from a table behind him. For the next
few hours, they all had a great time…and Eric and Dana began to fall in love.

* * *

Eighteen Months Later

“You sure about this, man?” Curt asked Eric as the two of
them checked their reflections in the floor length mirror in the sacristy of
the church. “You still have a few minutes to make a run for it.”

Eric brushed a piece of lint from his dress whites. “No freaking
way, dude. She’s the one. She’s hot, sweet, rocks my world, and doesn’t have a
problem being a Navy SEAL’s wife. My family loves her and she gets along great
with them. And to top it all off, I’m madly in love with her. What more could I
ask for?”

Shrugging his shoulder, Curt smirked. “I don’t know….maybe a
twin?”

“Asshole. Oops, sorry, Father.”

Neither one of them had heard the older priest come back in. Shaking
his head, Father O’Malley chuckled. “No worries. It’s something you get used to
as a Navy Chaplin. The bride’s father just gave me the thumbs up, so I guess
it’s a go. Ready?”

Taking one last look in the mirror to make sure his uniform
was perfect, Eric squared his shoulders and headed for the door to the altar.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do it.
Hoo-yah
!”

Curt followed and took his spot next to his best friend,
checking his pocket once again for the two rings he’d been placed in charge of.
Two more of their Navy buddies had joined them in the bridal party along with
one of Eric’s cousins, who had donned a grey suit for the occasion. Most of the
SEAL team they’d been serving with over the past two years was in attendance,
along with fifty of Dana and Curt’s friends and family. It wasn’t a huge
affair, but that’s how the couple had wanted it.

The organ music began to play and the bridesmaids made their
entrances at the back of the chapel. An adorable six-year-old flower girl
skipped up the aisle making everyone smile and laugh. Then the music changed to
the bridal march and the crowd stood to watch the bride float down the aisle on
her father’s arm. She was stunning—and that was an understatement. Curt bumped
shoulders with Eric, who couldn’t take his eyes off Dana, and whispered, “You were
right, man. She’s the one.”

“Told you.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as Dana’s father, who had
been diagnosed with terminal cancer two months earlier, handed her off to her
fiancé and good-naturedly saluted him. Eric returned the gesture to the retired
Air Force captain, then escorted his bride the last few steps to the altar
where the chaplain blessed the couple. After they were pronounced man and wife,
the reception went until almost dawn at a nearby hotel. They’d started off in
the ballroom, but when their time there ran out, the party was moved to the
bar/lounge and the drinks flowed. Curt lost count of the number of whiskey
shots the team had thrown back in toasts to the couple. All in all, it had been
an awesome night.

Present

“Something like this?” Curt finished sketching the paint job
design, and then rotated the pad a hundred and eighty degrees on the counter,
so his potential new customer could see it. “I can make any changes you want.”

“No, man, this is fucking awesome! It’s exactly what I was
looking for. You’re a fucking genius.”

He snorted at the twenty-something-year-old guy, who had been
referred by a friend whose motorcycle Curt had detailed a few months ago.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Flipping the pad back around, he made a few small
corrections, then signed the bottom of the page and wrote ‘HALO Customs’
underneath it. The motorcycle repair and detail shop was the business his
brother and he had opened up in Daytona after he’d retired from SEAL Team Four
three years ago. Chris was seven years younger than him and had retired from
the Army, after being a mechanic for them for eight years. He then apprenticed
with a guy who did custom bike jobs, so when Curt got out, they could start the
business they’d talked about for years. Chris did all the engine work and body
designs, while Curt did all the custom detailing, using the creative skills
he’d inherited from their mother, an art teacher. The business had grown over
the years, mostly by word-of-mouth, to the point they had eight other guys
working for them now. It had been a great relief to him since he didn’t have to
worry about taking time off here and there to head up to Iowa for long
weekends.

“I’m booked solid for the next five weeks.” He slid over the
large day-planner with his schedule in it. Between their receptionist, Monica,
and him, they kept it up-to-date. “The soonest I can get you in is the third
week of May. Is that okay with you?”

“That’d be awesome, dude—as long as it’s finished before the
start of the summer. I’ve been dying to get this done ever since I saw what you
did on my buddy’s bike.”

Grabbing an invoice pad, Curt wrote down the details of the
job and what it would cost. “Here’s the estimate. It’s subject to any changes
you make to the design or add-ons.”

The guy looked it over and didn’t even flinch at the bottom
line. Not that Curt expected him to, with what the motorcycle had cost in the
first place. The Seventy-Two Harley, with all the bells and whistles, had to
have set him back, at least $25,000 when he bought it a few months ago, and
that was including the custom paint job he was now replacing.

Sitting on the side shelf of his draft table, his cell phone
rang, and he glanced at the screen.
Devon Sawyer
. He picked up the
device and hit the button to connect the call. “Hey, Devil Dog. Can you hang on
a sec?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” Curt pulled the phone away from his mouth and
turned to his customer. “The terms are on the bottom there. One-third of the
invoice must be paid when you drop the bike off, and the rest is due on
completion of the job. Any questions?”

The guy shook his head. “Nope. Got it.”

“Cool. I’ll call you a few days in advance to make sure we’re
still all set.”

“Awesome.” He stepped toward the door then paused. “Hey, can
I take a pic of the sketch to show my buddies?”

Anxious to take the phone call, but not wanting to be rude to
a customer, Curt turned the pad around on the counter again. “Sure, just make
sure my signature and business name are included.”

“No prob. Thanks.”

After taking a few quick photos, the guy left with a huge
smile on his face. Curt brought the phone to his ear again. “Sorry about that,
Dev. What’s shaking in the security biz?”

“Not much. Listen, I just got back from a second trip to Belize
and Kristen’s having a really tough time this week with the morning sickness. I
can’t wait until it passes because she’s been miserable. Little JD is being
hell on his momma—”

“It’s a boy? You found out?” He’d known that the
parents-to-be wanted to name the baby John, if it was a boy, after Devon’s
younger brother, who’d passed away as a teenager. The kid’s middle name would
be his father’s name, so John Devon was already being called by his initials.

“Yeah, two weeks ago. Polo has already warned me that JD and
Mara are going to grow up thinking they’re blood cousins because he’s putting
dating restrictions on the poor girl and she’s only like, what, seven months
old?” They both laughed before Dev continued. “Anyway, the reason I’m calling
is this is my weekend to head up to Iowa with Archer, but I really don’t want
to leave Kristen when she’s this bad. I’d ask one of the team, but they’re all
on assignments this week, even Jake. Is there any way you can swap weekends
with me?”

“Actually, I already swapped with Archer. I meant to text
you. But don’t worry about it. When I spoke to Dana the other day to let her
know I was coming in, she said things were low-key this weekend, so we were
talking about taking the kids to that indoor amusement park or something. I can
do that on my own…no biggie.”

“You sure?”

He knew his friend felt bad. They usually took care of any
teammate’s widow for up to two years, depending on the situation, until she got
back on her feet. They would still keep in touch after that, after all, they
were family, but the bi-weekly visits would gradually turn to once a month
before they eventually stopped. “Yeah, don’t worry about it…got it covered. You
just take care of your wife and that bouncing baby boy.”

“Thanks. Oh, forgot to tell you. I’m sending you some
business. One of the new Omega guys, Kip Morrison, has a hog for you to paint.
He’s a retired Army grunt, but we snatched him up from LAPD. I told him I’d
hook him up with you.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be there in three weeks. Kristen called me
about Kat’s birthday party coming up, so I’ll be crashing in the bunkrooms at
the compound for the weekend.” The woman was engaged to their friend Ben ‘Boomer’
Michaelson, and he was throwing her a party at the BDSM club the Trident team
belonged to. Being good friends with Ian and his brother, Devon, both of whom
owned the place, he’d been cleared to visit, but since he didn’t want to deal
with the medical clearances every six months, he didn’t have play privileges.
Not that he really wanted them anyway. To each his own. But damn, some of those
scenes got pretty hot, and a few times he’d left with a serious case of blue
balls. “I’ll check out his ride then.”

“I’ll let him know. Thanks for the coverage and tell Dana
I’ll talk to her soon.”

“Will do.” He disconnected the call and tossed the phone on
the counter. Letting out a heavy sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. When
he’d agreed to take the shift for Pete Archer, he tried to convince himself he
was helping out a friend by swapping, but the truth of the matter was he was
dying to see Dana again. It had been two months since his last trip up there
with Polo, and he found himself thinking about her all the time. He’d picked up
the phone more times than he’d actually called her, but he forced himself not
to hit the speed dial seven or eight times a day. And now he was going to be
going there alone…well, not exactly alone—the kids would be there. Hopefully,
they’d be reason enough to keep from touching her the way he wanted to.
Fuck!

* * *

The non-descript sedan pulled into the drive, and Dana gave
her reflection a quick look in the mirror, then silently chastised herself. The
guys were coming for their twice monthly visit. This time, it was Devon and Curt.
The latter had called her earlier in the week to let her know he was filling in
for Pete
. He’s not coming for you, you idiot. He’s here because that’s what
the SEALs did—they did their best to fill the void in the lives of their fallen
teammates’ families.

Dana knew she would have to tell them soon that she was ready
to get on with her life without her husband. Eric had been her lover, best
friend, the father of her children—her everything. It’d taken her weeks to
finally admit to herself he wasn’t on another tour of duty and would be home
soon. Then it was months before she was able to get past the anger and hurt she
felt—at both Eric and the bastard who’d hit him and left him lying on the
asphalt like road-kill. But now, with the help of her family and friends, she
was ready to come out of the darkness, which had shrouded her all this time,
and start looking forward to the future. And a major step would be telling
Eric’s team they no longer had to visit twice a month. Phone calls and visits,
to her place in Iowa or where the others lived around the country, would go
back to the normal rate from before Eric’s death.

Changing her mind about the lip gloss she’d pulled from the
bathroom drawer, she tossed it back in and hurried out to the front door. She
assumed Devon and Curt would be hungry after their flight and subsequent drive
to Stormville, so she’d prepared some snacks for both the men and her children,
who always seemed to be starving after school. But the kids wouldn’t be home
from school for another half hour, so the men got first dibs.

Not waiting for the bell to ring, she opened the door and
stepped out on the porch. When she only saw Curt her eyes narrowed in
confusion. “Where’s Dev? I thought he was coming with you.”

Hauling his military green duffel out of the back seat, he
tossed it over his shoulder and started up the walk to the front door. “He
called me Wednesday. Kristen has been puking her guts up with morning sickness.
I told him not to worry about coming or getting someone to fill in since there
wasn’t much to do around the house this weekend. I hope that’s okay.”

Dana tried not to drool over the man she’d been friends with
for years. When she’d started noticing him in a different way was hard to say.
But somewhere along the line, she realized she was hoping the other guys would
need someone to swap shifts because it always seemed that Curt was willing to
do it.

As he climbed the stairs, she had to tilt her head back a
little with each step. At six-foot-four, he towered over her by a good eight
inches. Eric had been three inches shorter than his best friend, so with her
heels on, she’d almost been on eye level with him. Curt was also a little
broader in the shoulders, and over the years she’d heard many women comment on
what an amazing physique he had. The two men had both been well built, but that
was where the similarity ended. Eric had inherited his mother and grandmother’s
dark Italian genes while Curt’s blonde hair and blue eyes had come from a long
line of Norwegian DNA.

He stopped in front of her, and she realized she was staring
and hadn’t answered him. Feeling flustered, she turned to open the door.
“Yes…it’s…
um
…it’s fine. Come on in.”

When he followed and dropped his duffel in the foyer, it was
then she realized he’d brought it in. He cleared his throat, catching her
attention, and then scratched his head. “
Um
…I figured since it was just
me, I could crash on the couch if it’s okay with you?”

What?
Shit, it wasn’t like the man had never crashed
on the couch here before. When they had first moved into Eric’s childhood home,
after his parents had retired to Arizona, she’d replaced the old couch with a
sleeper sofa, which had an inflatable mattress for comfort just for Curt. He
visited so often, she felt bad when he insisted on taking the couch, instead of
letting her move one of the kids out there so he could sleep in a bed. But that
was all before she was very aware of the man in a way she wasn’t certain she
wanted to be. “
Uh
. Sure. I mean, of course, you can stay here. If you
want, Amanda can sleep with me and you can have her room.”

He threw his head back and laughed, holding his hand to his
gut. “
Ah
…no. Thanks, but all that purple and pink is too much for me.
I’d probably smell like unicorns and be shitting glitter in the morning.”

“Now there’s an ugly picture.” Dana shook her head, happy he
sounded like Eric’s old friend and not the man her body seemed to react to
anytime he was near. “Come on into the kitchen. I bet you’re hungry.”

His boots barely made the slightest sound as he trailed her.
It always amazed her how the big bad Navy SEALs could walk so quietly when
there was no mistaking their presence when they were in a room. “It’s not much.
I just put out some cheese, pepperoni, spicy salami, and crackers.”

“
Mmmm
. Now all I need is a beer, some pistachios, and a
ballgame.” Curt quickly made a small tower out of the spread she’d placed on
the kitchen table and tossed it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed while
making another. “Much better than the six, damn pretzels I got in the package
on the plane.”

Knowing he wouldn’t drink a beer at this hour unless it was
at a barbeque or party, she retrieved a cold root beer from the fridge. She
then grabbed a clean pilsner glass from the cabinet and set both on the table
next to where he took a seat. Her ice water from earlier was still there, so
she reached for it, but knocked it over when the house phone rang and startled
her. Water and ice went flying right into Curt’s lap. He leapt up, sending his
chair sliding across the floor, but it’d been too late—the jeans on his crotch
and thighs were soaked.

“Oh my God! Curt! I’m so sorry!” She lunged for a dish towel
hanging on the oven handle and tossed it on the table where the water was still
rolling over the edge to the floor. Grabbing another one, she reached to dry
him off, but his hand snatched her wrist, stopping her.

He took the towel from her, as the phone still clanged on the
wall. “I’ve got it. No problem. Answer the phone.”

Sure he had things under control, she stepped around him and
picked up the wall phone. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Prichard? This is Principal Gibbs at Stormville
Elementary.” Panic assailed her but he continued before she could ask what was
wrong. “I’m sorry to call you, but I need you to come down to the school. I
have Justin and Taylor in my office for fighting with two other boys.”