Page 4 of Luck Be Mine (The Defenders #3)

? Back in Uniform – Day One ?

Hunt felt comfortable on the Coronado base from the beginning before he’d even passed BUD/S. Walking into the Operations building on his first day back at work should have been a no-sweat moment. Instead, nerves rolled his stomach like he’d eaten a batch of bad shrimp.

He wanted to run through a checklist with Cait before he left, but she’d been sound asleep. Five a.m. was not her time of the morning.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant.” Hunt snapped to awareness and waved at one of the supply enlisted.

Following the hallway, he went to Commander Scott’s door and knocked.

As usual, Scott sat behind his desk doing a rapid fire read of the overnight events.

The man’s uniform was pressed to neat perfection, and his gray hair had been trimmed to allow quick maintenance.

Hunt cleared his throat. “Good morning, sir.”

Scott indicated the seat on the other side of his desk. “Are you caught up?”

“Doogie briefed me last night. He’s been keeping me current all along. I only need to review the night’s events.” He pointed at the iPad on Scott’s desk. “Anything I need to know?”

“Not yet. WHO is tracking the transmission of a virus. Mostly in China. Hasn’t moved outside their zone yet.

We’re tracking for mission purposes. The death of IQS didn’t make a huge impact in Afghanistan.

He still has followers causing mayhem, money coming from somewhere, and a man who claims to be his cousin stepped in to reorganize the group. ”

“Figures.” Hunt eased into a chair and studied Scott’s frown.

He continued. “ISIS has increased their attacks in Iraq and Syria. We’ve got foreign contract soldiers activating through the middle east.”

Hunt nodded. “In other words, same situation we’ve had for months.”

“Essentially. I’ll organize a detailed briefing later. Are you ready? Doc ready?”

Hunt stayed with short and truth. “It’s time. Cait insisted. Day-by-day improvements, trying for normalcy.”

Scott frowned. “Best way about it. One other thing.”

A long pause left Hunt puzzled. “Sir?”

“Mamhud Zahir.”

Hunt searched his memory for a connection. “Not sure I’m familiar with his name.”

Scott watched his face. “Health clinic bombing. Identification positive.”

Surprise had him swallowing and blanking all but a professional interest. “I am familiar with all the IQS connections. I haven’t heard of him.”

“Intelligence verified loose sources through money tracking. Man was originally activated in Iraq, then made the move into Afghanistan with a swing through Syria first. Intelligence continues to work on details. As I said, remnants of IQS have been taken over by Sayed Sadozai, cousin of IQS, and Zahir is too talented a leader not to be connected with them, in conflict with them, or with the Taliban. His ideology is in question.”

Hunt stifled the unproductive temptation to go after the bastard. “Will he land in our wheelhouse anytime soon?”

Scott raised a brow. “Undetermined.”

“Thanks for the info. I appreciate it.” Hunt rose from his chair. “Anything else, sir?”

Scott cleared his throat. “Are you square in case you have to leave?”

“Already handled, sir, including all the legal paperwork finished. Doogie’s mother is coming to help her. She’ll be fine. Cait’s Army. She understands.”

“How’s that going?”

“On disability for another month before a decision will need to be made.” It wasn’t his place to announce her desire to leave the service, so he kept to a basic statement.

“Enough said.” Scott tapped off his iPad.

“Thank you, sir.” Leaving, Hunt needed a minute in the busy hallway to process the information.

Professional and personal had been mingling for months, and the necessity of finally separating the two grabbed at him. Cait, while still in the Army, would be transitioning to civilian soon, and his responsibility as a SEAL Team officer was to maintain secrecy at all costs.

It was critical he stay within bounds on this.

He in no way wanted anyone to perceive his conduct skewed to revenge.

That wouldn’t work for him even if it shaved close to the truth.

It would be too easy to violate well-defined conduct lines, and he did not have a gunslinger reputation for good reason.

He’d built better – on his skill, on his actions, on his education. Ethics and trust versus protection and love. Chokehold in the middle over honesty and commitment – to a career, to a reputation, to a marriage. No easy day .

Doogie found him standing motionless and grabbed his arm to pull him into an alcove.

“What happened?”

“A name attached to some intelligence on the bombing where Cait was hurt. Guts me every time.”

“I get it, but we’re due at the Force Protection briefing. Let’s go.”

The two men exited the small space and followed others to the meeting. He wasn’t a big fan of these gatherings, but the Force Protection talk on the virus was top priority. It was spreading, and operations across the globe were about to get complicated.

It took supreme effort and still he struggled through the speech.

He had Cait’s Valentine’s Day present in his truck – an elegant gold chain necklace.

He’d noted how she frequently switched her wedding ring from finger to finger when the deadness in her hand became unbearable.

He wanted to give her another option. But “here you go honey” with a terrorist chaser wasn’t the way he’d envisioned Valentine’s Day.

He should ask for advice, but he never talked with these guys about women. He’d die for all of them but couldn’t share the thoughts of a man deeply in love with his wife.

He did it again. Slid to Cait. Physical therapy three times a week was kicking her ass.

But even with only her sixth appointment, her hip was better.

Her shoulder was not. Her hand was not. Keeping her from despair was getting tougher.

Plus, it was getting harder and harder to sleep with her and not touch. He snorted to himself.

Doogie shifted and quietly cleared his throat. “Blank stare not helping.”

“Mind wandering,” he muttered.

“Hard not to.” Doogie’s mouth barely moved at the words.

They both quieted. Setting an example sucked. Another twenty minutes passed before the briefing broke. Hunt, Doogie, and Hernandez headed for their workroom.

Doogie peeled off at operations. “I’m going to check the news feeds for anything we need aware of.”

Hernandez stayed in step with him. “New rotation coming up. You ready?”

“Yes.”

“No worries? Rachel can help if need be.” Rachel Hernandez was an old hand at deployments and missions.

Hunt went for honesty. “I’ll tell Cait, and sure I have worries. I’ve never been married before doing this. We’ll figure it out.”

“Not letting some of the talk get to you, are you?”

“What talk?”

Mateo followed him through the door of the workroom. The others were there ahead of them. He stopped in the doorway so the man could finish his information. “Deter, Team 5. All sorts of bullshit about your “shotgun” wedding, our numbers being down.”

Hunt waved it off. “Two months ago, we killed IQS. Did any of these other fuckers find him? No, we did. You all had front row seats to what happened with Cait. Let’s stay tough and quit listening.

The best way to fight this is to not fight but keep our conduct top-notch. ” Good speech. He should listen.

Mateo scowled. “Agreed. Not because I don’t want to smash the man’s face, but because you’re right. Only reporting what I’m hearing. We can’t get slammed by what we don’t know.”

“True. Thanks, Chief. If we have any problems, I’ll ask.”

“Her injuries have complicated things, LT. Let us help when we can.”

Had he slacked off? Started demanding less of his people?

He didn’t believe so, but he had been gone for two months.

One thing they’d never done was walk through their IQS mission and see where they could have improved.

“Gather gear. We’re going out for some off-book training. Get our focus where it needs to be.”

Carter stopped at the center of the room. “What about bubble quarantine? Are we risking exposure?”

“We’re gonna stay in a bubble. Ours.” Hunt opened his cage with a fierce rattle. “Where we’re going, people won’t be a problem.”

“Works for me.” Carter opened his own space and prepared.

Nobody talked. Nobody grumbled. Everyone was in stir-crazy mode and needed a day out.

Hernandez came to his side. “Training? Where?”

“Let’s run through the IQS mission. Find us a training area.”

“Good plan. Keep us busy.” Hernandez went to leave and met Doogie at the door. Stopping for a quick conference, the two talked quietly.

Fighting hard against losing his cool, Hunt drew a breath, dressed for an operational day outside, and planned his weaponry in his head.

Figured the gossip would come from Deter Kirkus. He’d been in the BUD/S class after Hunt, and the two had served briefly together on Scott’s team. They had significant issues getting along because of differences in everything from planning to execution to plain thinking.

Would he kill to protect the man? Yes.

Would he party with him on Saturday night or invite him to dinner at his house? No.

Deter had tried to get on his team when their sniper had retired, but Hunt took Tommy instead at Scott’s request.

Tommy came to the door of his cage. “Live ammo?”

“Yeah, we’ll get some target practice in while we’re out.”

“Copy. I have a deal with Doc. I cover your back no matter what. You need help with this Deter thing, tell me.”

Dozens of questions popped into Hunt’s head. “When did you make this deal with Doc?”

“When we delivered the red sofa. Wasn’t a hard deal to agree to.” He turned to walk off.

“What did you promise her?”

Tommy grimaced, his stiff posture proof he didn’t want to tell. He came back and lowered his voice. “She made me promise to take better care of myself. Said she’d be watching.”