laughed at that. Rina had to agree that Mac was a good-looking guy. But Jenny’s marriage to Mac was a frequent source of tension in the family, even though Mac had tried his best in the beginning to win her mother over, it became painfully apparent that that wasn’t going to happen.
Of course, Stella found the whole thing completely romantic, and even though Rina would never admit it out loud, she had to agree.
Eloping in the middle of the night after a first date—well, Jenny told her that even she had to finally admit that what had happened between her and Mac technically wasn’t a date—but she and Mac were still solidly together after eleven years, Mac’s numerous travels with the SEALs and her two miscarriages.
They were talking about adopting. Jenny planned to try until she was forty—two more years—and then she’d consider the alternatives. And Mac seemed more than willing to do whatever it took to make her happy.
But Mac had more than one strike against him, at least in Rina’s mother’s eyes. Not only was his Navy SEAL job and lifestyle completely unconventional, he was also fifteen years older than Jenny. They’d also married right after Rina’s Uncle David had been killed, another strike, since her mom blamed the military for what had happened to David in Africa.
Even though her Uncle was a retired Special Forces Soldier and now worked for JAG, he still did what was considered highly classified and confidential work for the government, which required his schedule to be top secret most of the time.
“It was great having you here. You’re welcome back any time,” Jenny was saying, but Rina barely heard her. Her mind had already begun a steady turn, and her imagination took off.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to apply for the grant this year after all…. “I might take you up on that one. Soon,” Rina said, her pulse racing nearly as fast as it had been last night.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Could you have Mac call me when he gets back? I’ve got another video idea I think the Navy might like.”
“Will do,” Jenny promised.
Rina hung up and dialed Vic’s cell phone number immediately. “I’ve got a pitch for you,” she said, dispensing with the usual hello.
“You’re supposed to be finishing up the job you’re on now. But I’m listening.”
“Bigger, Badder, Faster—X-treme jobs,” she said, scribbling notes to herself on a napkin even as she spoke.
“I like it. Tell me more.”
“We could do things like roughnecks, race car drivers, stunt men. Navy SEALs,” she continued, encouraged by the way Vic sounded.
“We’d need some kind of in,” he said.
“I think I’ve got the in for the SEALs,” she said. “And I want behind the camera on this one.”
Her mom was always saying how crazy her Uncle Mac was. So really, what could be more extreme, more exciting, than a day in the life of a Navy SEAL?
5
Two weeks later
“HOW BAD IS IT?” Cash asked Hunt, his SEAL teammate. Cash leaned forward to see the damage for himself while he shot off a round of fire to keep the enemy at bay. His muscles tensed and gut tightened, the way they always did whenever the situation involved adrenaline and explosives.
“Get out of here now before you’re trapped,” Hunt told him. The men had been inserted into Morocco an hour earlier, and Mission Tank Battle was already well underway.
Cash shifted, and mentally calculated their options. “Can’t we get around the side wall?”
“Not unless we want to die immediately. It’s too late and I’m too hurt to be helped, so go,” Hunt insisted.
“I’m not leaving you behind,” Cash said. He’d sacrificed too much to let something like this happen, the last half hour was pure blood, sweat and tears. He’d been shot, as well. Using every available resource he had, he grabbed Hunt, swung him over his shoulder and started to run.
“Watch behind you,” Rev, another teammate, urged and Cash swung to the left to avoid another grenade. And promptly dropped Hunt.
“I thought you were trying to save me?” Hunt demanded as the TV screen turned white and Game Over emerged in large blue letters.
“I can’t help it if you slipped,” Cash said, wondering why the hell anyone ever played these SOCOM3 games. Once you’d lived the real thing, the on-screen version paled in comparison.
“You suck at this,” Hunt declared, and took the controls out of Cash’s hands. “Good thing your track record’s better where it counts.”
From the room’s far corner, Justin snorted, where he lay on his back playing Texas Hold ’Em on his cell phone. Etienne, better known as Rev, had been trying to put some order to the paperwork blanketing the massive, scarred oak table where the SEALs held their meetings. But he’d given up at least an hour ago in favor of seeing just how far he could tip his chair back on two legs without falling over. He also offered commentary on the video game Cash and Hunt had been playing for an hour, since they’d all been benched with injuries, albeit minor ones, after last night’s training mission.
A stimulating afternoon. Of course, compared to the excitement of the Gray Ops mission in Hawaii, the just sitting around part was that much more frustrating. He and Justin had completed their end of the mission, had gotten lauded for their part in helping to bring down a major drug running operation. It was hard to come down from something like that.
Hunt’s phone rang. “What?” he asked, instead of hello, listened for a second and then stood. “Hollywood said the admiral’s on his way over here,” he told them. “Bringing his niece.”
Hollywood, aka Captain Jason Andrews, was their CO. Born and raised in that legendary California town, it was rumored that his parents were both film stars.
Cash surveyed the room, thought about tidying up and then decided that the doc’s orders to take it easy applied to anything that seemed remotely like cleaning. He’d taken the worst of last night’s hit, and wasn’t about to let any of them forget it, either. At least his ribs were bruised and not broken—they’d be healed before the surfing competition in Baja next month, and he had no doubt he’d be cleared for duty tomorrow—Thursday at the latest.
“What for?” Rev drawled, and Hunt shrugged.
“No clue. He did say not to worry about cleaning the place up,” Hunt said. He moved to the window, and abruptly let out a low wolf whistle. “And man, his niece is hot.”
“What’re you looking for? You’re an old married man,” Justin said.
“Carly and I aren’t married. Yet.” Hunt smiled, and Cash rolled his eyes. Hunt and his very own surfer girl were getting hitched in three months and they were happy as hell. It was sickening.
“What’s Mac’s niece look like?” Rev asked.
“Long dark hair, about halfway down her back, maybe five foot five,” Hunt said, and Cash came up behind him to take a look. Cash froze for a second, not wanting to believe what was happening. But it was—happening like a freakin’ nightmare. It was Rina, Rina from Hawaii, and the admiral, known as Mac to his men, marching this way. Together. Directly toward him.
No fucking way.
Luckily, they moved into the officers’ tent rather than continue to head toward him like a guided missile on a path of pure destruction. If there was any means for escape, a trap door, a way to get up to the roof and go over and away as far as he possibly could…but that wouldn’t last for long.
Mac would still hunt him down like a rabid dog in the street, make his death a slow and painful process.
If Mac knew.