Indulgence (335 page)

Cooper caught hell for that one. Several other men from Team
3 started laughing. Leopold was a tall Mormon boy from Pennsylvania, nearly
Cooper’s height. “I’d take that one as a sign. Breakfast in bed. All I’m
sayin’.”

“Libby was not in the mood. She was so pissed she almost
ordered me out with the movers. Like it’s somehow
my
fault.
She
labeled the fuckin’ boxes.”

“Welcome to married life, son,” Kyle said. Though they were
all close to the same age, their LPO liked to dispense advice about home life
and domestic harmony almost as much as Gunny.

“I believe the term you have yet to learn is,
yes, dear,
”
Armando added.

“You best learn that or yo’ mamma gonna hold her knees
together real tight. You got twenty years of purgatory minimum,” Jones added
with a smile.

Fredo had to jump in on that one. “That’s when you get some
professional advice,” he said as he stood and gyrated his hips to the sounds of
oohs and ahhs from the audience.

“And then you get that damned letter from the lawyer,” one
of the other men said.

They’d been driving for nearly an hour and the bench seat
was getting hard. The background chatter was comfortable, working like white
noise. Armando thought about his glorious morning and afternoon on Sunday with
Gina, and couldn’t wait until Friday when they’d reconnect. He’d be so ready
for her he got stiff just thinking about it.

“You’re kinda quiet, Armani,” Kyle said as he shoved his
shoulder into him. “Everything right?”

He smiled back at his best friend and BUD/s swim buddy. If
it weren’t for the fact that Armando had a minor infraction stemming from a bar
fight, he’d be the same rank and have his own platoon, but he preferred being
Kyle’s second enlisted any day of the week. That fight had cost him almost $150
a month in pay, but it had been worth it at the time.

“I’m good. A little stir crazy.”

“Me too. But hey, we got about half a mil worth of ammo to
go expend the next few days. We got more to use this week in training than
whole platoons use overseas in a year.”

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Use it in training so you
don’t have to later on?”

“Yup. Being prepared definitely keeps you alive,” Kyle
agreed.

“Also makes you a great lover,” Marky Mark added as he
winked.

Several laughed. Armando thought about being in training
with Gina, and damn, it was getting hot in there. He definitely was obsessing
about her soft flesh and that pouty mouth that tasted so sweet as she shattered
under him. Seeing her climax was going to be the highlight of his day when he
got back. Every day.

What the hell am I saying?

“Fuck it,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah?” Kyle had picked up on it. “You sleeping these
nights?”

He knew Kyle was fishing for signs of PTSD. Lord knew they’d
seen more than their fair share of screwed-up operations and things gone wrong.
Team guys killed.

“I’m thinking about one little lady who’s gonna make sleep a
luxury,” he whispered back to Kyle.

“Roger that.” Kyle patted him on the shoulder. “About time,
Armani.”

“Nope. Not quite that far. But I’m having fun.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em, until one snags you and you have no
choice. And then you say,
yes, dear.
”
Several others overheard
the conversation and had joined in the refrain.

They ran exercises in the dusty sand of the high desert,
shooting and blowing things up. They used hand-held drones like one of Cooper’s
to coordinate positions and identify targets. Armando found shooting the new
.50 caliber M2, Ma Deuce, which mounted like a gargoyle on the back of a jeep
going at sixty miles an hour, the most challenging. He familiarized himself
with the quick-change barrel system and what to do in case of a jam, which they
said would never happen.

A couple of manufacturer’s reps were on standby to instruct
them during the week. Because of Leopold’s Mormon faith, his nickname was
Moron, but that had nothing to do with anything that would describe the big
kid. His girlfriend was going to meet him in Vegas after their training, and he
planned to propose to her. He’d been practicing his proposal over and over
again. If it didn’t work, at least they’d have a very romantic weekend at
Caesar’s.

On Friday, after a hard week of long dusty days in the high
desert, they were rushing to get all the equipment off the trucks so they could
make their plane and touch down in San Diego while there was still part of an
evening left to waste. The Browning was a heavy sucker, and the barrel was
still hot from all the rounds they’d rammed through it. Someone pulled the
lever on the stabilizing arm and the sucker dropped straight down on top of
Moron’s forehead. It knocked him clean out.

Cooper worked on Leopold furiously, making sure he regained
consciousness quickly. The hole in the middle of his forehead was partly singed
from the hot steel of the barrel. There was no question it was going to leave a
ring, and would need stitches.

“Fuck!” Leopold screamed as he came to.

“Guess we don’t have to worry about whether or not he’s all
right,” someone said.

“It coulda knocked some sense into him,” Fredo added.

Blood was streaming down the cut, covering his lips and
teeth. He sputtered and coughed, in between his invectives toward the heavens
and anyone else who stood around to watch.

“You gotta hold still or I’m not going to be able to patch
this up,” Cooper said calmly.

“Fuck!” Moron shouted again so loud it reverberated across
the desert. He was trying to stand, but Coop outweighed him. He was the only
SEAL who did. Coop finally sat on the big kid so hard it nearly knocked his
breath out. The two skinny advisors looked worried but said nothing.

Kyle made an announcement. “So you see? That’s what happens
when we rush things. This is what gets you killed, gents. You pay attention.
Who pulled that pin?”

A short wrestler-type build of a man, a recruit from Latvia
named Dimitri stepped forward. “I am sorry, sir. I didn’t see him there.”

Kyle grunted, but Armando knew he wouldn’t write it up
unless the guy hadn’t confessed. “We can die by enemy fire, or we can die by
friendly fire. Or a training accident. We use this to remind ourselves to be
careful. Being careful is what keeps you alive. Some days it is the only reason
you stay alive. Don’t assume anything.”

Cooper had begun trying to stick butterflies over Moron’s
bleeder. He finally had to resort to a gauze pad and a wad of athletic tape
wound around the kid’s head several times to get the bleeding to stop.

“You’re gonna have to go to the hospital back in San Diego,
Leo.”

“Fuck that. I’m meeting my girl here at Caesar’s Palace.”

“I can’t stay. You gotta be seen by someone.”

“Just stitch me up. Go ahead.”

“I got nothing to deaden the skin.”

“I don’t fuckin care. Just stitch me up so my girl doesn’t
have a heart attack when she sees all the blood.”

“You’re gonna have to have her wake you up every hour. You
could have a concussion.”

“Shit, he’s not gonna sleep all weekend, are you, Moron?”
someone said.

“Maybe not now,” someone else added.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Leopold was still in a hurry.

Cooper looked to Kyle. “Your call.”

“Your ears ringing?” Kyle asked the kid.

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if they did?”

“Nope. But they’re not ringing. I got a headache, though.”

“I’ll bet.” He turned to Cooper. “Give him something for
pain after you do it.”

Cooper nodded.

“Make it hurt. If he passes out, he comes with us,” he added
in a whisper.

“Roger that.”

With an audience around them standing in a tight semicircle,
Cooper put twelve stitches in Moron’s forehead like he was appliquéing a quilt,
and the boy didn’t flinch. True to his word, Cooper made it hurt. But no one
would have known until it was all over. Moron got up, looked at himself in the
steel mirror and then punched Cooper in the jaw.

“You did good, kid. Now, no alcohol this weekend, hear?”
Kyle admonished him.

“Fuck’s up with that, LP? You know I’m a fuckin’ Mormon. The
only thing I
can
do is screw.”

Gina used the week to dive into Mia’s world. They explored
other bars some of Mia’s lowlife friends frequented, under the guise of looking
for hot dates willing to spend money. But Sam and a couple of the other detail
followed them around, seeming to have an uncanny knack for showing up when they
least expected it.

Carlos gave them a generous offer to work for him, which was
a break for Gina since she got it on audio. He gave a rather lengthy
description of how he used girls and youths to send messages, occasionally
delivering money. Gina allowed herself to be talked into it, over Mia’s
objection. She was pleased Mia was beginning to recognize the dangers of being
involved in the wrong crowd. Something had shifted.

Gina met several of his couriers at the palatial home
overlooking the ocean in La Jolla on Wednesday. Carlos was on his very best
behavior. But she knew from Sam’s snitch that they’d just purchased a warehouse
full of military equipment, including some state-of-the art firepower. There
was a race for time to find out the location before it could wind up in Mexico.

“I would treat you like a queen, beautiful Gina with the
perfect body.”

She let him think she found that attractive. Mia tried to
act disinterested, but Gina picked up on her friend’s unease.

Even as she played up to Carlos, it troubled her that his
rise to power had been so rapid. Caesar had been imprisoned for less than a
year. She knew the Scorpions had probably replaced the SDPD and sheriff’s men
caught up in the sting with new members and new officers bought and paid for by
the gang. Finding those would be a big coup.

Unlike the slimy man she usually saw at the bars, Carlos’s
house was immaculate, completely modern, and stark white except for his
collection of Haitian and Cuban paintings, which hung like violent scars on the
sun-drenched walls. He had a wine cellar large enough to serve dinner for
twelve, and bragged that at the time of purchase two years ago, the wine had
been valued at over a half million all by itself. He also made a point of
telling her he never took drugs. “My house is as clean as it looks. “Don’t you
party?” she asked.

“Nah. Here I relax. I do all my business out of the office
or in my car. But when I come home—” he walked around Gina, looking her up and
down— “I like to get with my woman, you get what I’m sayin?”

Gina resisted the urge to cringe. Mia was scowling. She held
little Ricardo in her arms as the baby grabbed one of her hoop earrings and
practically ripped it off her ear.

On the way home, Mia gave her a bit of her own twisted
advice. “You know if you get hooked up with Carlos you’ll never get out?”

“I know what I’m doing.” Gina looked over at the girl she’d
actually begun to like. It wasn’t her job to reform Mia. Instead, she was
supposed to arrest her when the time came. That would be difficult to do. But
if she had to, could she? Knowing what Armando would do?

“I just don’t understand why you’d go get in close with
Carlos, then. What could you possibly seen in him when you got a guy like Sam
around? I think you’re loco, Gina.”

If you only knew.

“Tell you the truth, I’d rather get with your brother. I
think he’s hot as hell,” Gina said and then immediately regretted it. But it
had felt good to say something truthful. Mia shook her head. “Girls are all
over him all the time. He’s a royal pain in the ass to me.”

Gina thought a bit before she approached the subject she
knew Mia wanted kept secret.

Time to suck it up.
“So what happened, Mia?”

“What do you mean what happened? To Armando?”

“What is that thing you don’t want to talk about, that thing
that happened to you?”

Mia shook her head again. “No way. Just keep your mind on
yourself. I don’t need any shrinkage.”

That was really funny. “Good one. I like that.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve done that too.”

“Done what?”

“Screwed my shrink.”

They had stopped at the stoplight. Mia turned to her and
finally let her have a glimpse of what was going on. “Okay, then. You can’t
tell anybody this, right?”

“Scout’s honor,” Gina said.

Mia fixed her with a deadly sneer. “No scouts, either.”

Gina was running out of good guys to reference. “I promise,
your secret is safe with me.”

“My mother’s priest molested me when I was thirteen.
Confirmation classes and all. My mother has blinders on, just like horses at
the races. Wanted me to spend all kinds of time with the creep, and thought I
was just being selfish when I didn’t want to go anymore. I knew it was wrong to
sit on his lap with no panties on.”

They continued into the intersection.

“God, that’s awful, Mia.”

“Found out he’d been doing it for years. The church knew
too. Did not one damned thing about it.”

“Did you tell your mother?”

“Tried to. She’s a brick wall when it comes to the church.
She refused to listen.”

“How long did this go on?”

“Nearly a year. I got issues about it, you know. I play
around and such, but I don’t like sex very much. It feels dirty.”

“No wonder. You know there are places that can help you with
that.”

“Oh yeah. I got that too. The priest sent me to a shrink.
That man was also a pervert. I think the two of them was comparin’ notes. He
got arrested last year…you remember that big scandal with the doctor and the
young girls?”

“I do. I remember when they—” she was going to say
when
they brought him in,
but that would have been incredibly dumb, “they had it
all over the news. So you were one of those girls?”