Accidental SEAL (SEAL Brotherhood #1) (41 page)

BOOK: Accidental SEAL (SEAL Brotherhood #1)

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“Nice to see the ladies’ve told you about it. That’s why they won’t lick your sorry ass.” Coop watched his words punch Dorian in the face and made him redden. But the man was quick on his feet, unlike some of the other Navy regulars.

“I hear the health department wants to do a study of all the interesting cultures growing in that bat mobile, especially on the ceiling…”

“Nice try, asshole, or is it Dorian? If I were you, I’d go by the name asshole. Dorian sounds queer.”

“You ought to know…” Dorian squinted at Coop’s upside down nametag hanging at a slight angle. “Calvin.”

Sticks and stones don’t bust my balls…

“Well
Dorian,
you can call me Special Operator Cooper. But for your information, the only other Calvin I ever met was a real big black dude, and he
definitely
wasn’t gay.” Coop handed over his military I.D.

“When are you gonna fix that rag on your head? Don’t they pay you boys enough for a hairpiece or some plugs?”

“Lost all my hair going down. If the girl likes it, she kinda tugs. Hurts sometimes, get my drift?”

“Um hum.” The sentry handed Coop back his card. “You be careful how you park, hear? And straighten that god-damned nametag.”

The rumble of the engine left a thick cloud of black smoke in its wake. Happened every time Coop plastered his foot against the floorboard.

Timmons’s office was all metal and no frills, except for the bright lime green ceramic frog holding a surfboard that SEAL Team III bought him. It stood two and a half perilous feet tall, perched on top of a metal bookshelf. This was the replacement to the statue Timmons had destroyed on a rather ill-tempered day last year.

Timmons had bouts of anger, more frequently now, especially about procedural things. Coop knew the enlisted man was not longing for the forced retirement. It meant more time at home with a wife who publicly made fun of him. The Navy was his life, always had been. But that wasn’t going to stop them from retiring him anyway.

“Chief?” Coop called out as he stooped under the doorframe to avoid hitting his head.

“Sit down, son,” Timmons said, pointing to one of two metal folding chairs in front of his paper-strewn desk.

The cold chair matched the eerie chill that tingled up his spine every time his Chief used the term
son.
He licked his lips and waited while Timmons collected strength.

“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. We’ve just been contacted by the authorities in Nebraska.” He looked up at Coop with his watery, light blue eyes. Coop held his breath.

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard it on the news, but there’s been a tornado in Pender and parts nearby, and I’m sorry to say, your family and the farm are gone, son.”

Cooper had been trained to deal with the death of a Team guy. He’d held them sometimes as the life force exited their bodies, rocking them slowly or telling them little jokes to ease their way home. But his real home, his roots in Nebraska, those always remained.

Gone? All of them? Gone?

He felt his body come to terms with the reality of what was just spoken. One by one, every nerve ending began to shout, until the rage inside, the scream
Hell No!
consumed all his energy. He dug his fingernails into his thighs and, without realizing it, had drawn blood through the green canvas of his cargo pants.

Timmons got up, which prompted Coop to stand as well, although he was weaving. If Timmons hugged him, he’d deck the guy and end his career for sure. But his Chief stood a healthy two feet away, which was close enough to smell the angst of his old chief who nervously flexed and unflexed his fingers at his side. “I’m so sorry, son.”

There’s that goddamned word again.
Coop took a deep breath and then felt the tears flood his eyes.
I’m no one’s son any longer
. Mercifully, he couldn’t see his Chief’s expression. Coop’s fists tightened, he stepped to the side and belted the frog statue, which crashed up against the side of the wall and shattered. Although his team had recently replaced it for well over two hundred dollars, the green glassy fragments exploded and fell in a satisfying tinkle all over the floor, the windowsill and Timmons’s desk.

Timmons stood there overlooking the mess, nodding his head. He thought the frog suffered a good, honorable death, after all. Team III would have it replaced as soon as the donations came in. Next time maybe he should find a way to bolt it to the wall. But that would be dangerous.

For the wall.

End of Excerpt –
Fallen SEAL Legacy
will be released in the Fall of 2012