Page 88 of Peace Under Fire

Before Mandy had a chance to argue the point, Alaska started walking again. “Let him come. He can watch over you from our deck while we have our cocktails and chit-chat—inside.” She tossed Jacob a sparkling look over her shoulder. “You better bring a book or something to entertain yourself. You may be waiting a long time.”

* * *

Yummy?

How the hell was the simple act of speaking yummy? Just because the dude had an accent didn’t make him a stand-up guy. And this Tiny bastard sounded like a complete douche tool too. Mandy was far too swayed by unimportant details like eyes, accents, and looks. He needed to keep her away from all these assholes.

Squish stalked behind the two women, his boots silent on the dirt path. The women on the other hand—between the talking and laughter and the slap of their shoes against the ground—he could have tracked them by the noise they made. He listened with amazement to their incessant chatter. You’d think the two had been best friends forever. They were already comparing horoscopes, astrological signs, and favorite television shows and movies. And then they moved onto books.

“Have you read Susan Stoker’s SEALs of Protection series? It’s one of my favorites.” Mandy was practically vibrating she was so thrilled with her new BFF.

Squish’s steps faltered as their conversation sunk in. They were talking about reading—as in books. And the series Mandy mentioned had SEALs in its title. Now that was a surprise. He hadn’t expected Mandy to be into military non-fiction.

“Which of the guys is your favorites?” Alaska asked as she took the path to their right which led to the lodge.

“It’s hard to say.” Mandy’s voice was dreamy. “I loved Phantom and how committed he was to Kalee, but Wolf and Caroline are my favorites. Maybe because I read them first.”

Squish frowned. While Wolf was a common call name, he wasn’t aware of anyone anointed with that name who’d hooked up with a woman named Caroline. As for Phantom, what the hell kind of name was that? Call names or nicknames were given based on the humiliation quota—aka the stupider or funnier an incident, the more likely an operator would be saddled with a nickname that pertained to the event. Like Squish, his damn nickname. He couldn’t imagine how anyone would get stuck with Phantom.

“Did you read The Boardwalk?” Mandy asked, her voice dreamy again.

“I did.” Alaska sighed, her voice just as wistful. “It was so sad and so beautiful at the same time.”

“Right?” Mandy sighed too. “The way Wolf took care of Caroline, even when she didn’t remember or recognize him. That’s true love right there. They had the perfect romance. It was the perfect love story, even though it was so sad.”

Romance? Love story?

He scowled, an ugly suspicion rising. They might be talking about books, but they weren’t talking about non-fiction, that was for damn sure. They were talking about fiction—romantic fiction specifically. And it sounded like this Wolf was a fictional SEAL.

What the hell?

He eased closer, listening intently. The more he heard, the deeper his scowl grew. Well, fuck him. There were apparently a bunch of women out there writing romances with SEALs as the heroic leads. Ridiculous. What kind of imbeciles thought it was a good idea to combine SEALs and romance? The jobs he did were often ugly, dark, and bloody. They were never romantic.

Hell, special operators as romantic leads should be outlawed. And the SEALs in those books should be shot and put out of their misery.

If those books were what Mandy was basing her understanding of special operations off of, no wonder she was so clueless about what hooking up with him would do to her sunny personality.

If she had any idea of the things he’d done during his years as a special operator, if she knew, she’d run screaming from him. As well she should. Sure, everything he’d done had been sanctioned by the United States government. Nor did he regret the actions he’d taken; they’d been necessary to keep this country and its citizens safe. But that sure didn’t turn him into a hero.

He needed to have a serious conversation with Mandy regarding her misconceptions of his profession.

It took him a few seconds to realize he’d stopped walking. He forced air through his tight throat and took off after them on heavy legs. By the time he caught up with them, they’d moved on to a different subject and were talking each other’s heads off again. This time about clothes, and shoes, and then back to clothes again.

When the women reached the lodge and clomped their way inside, he was thrilled he’d been relegated to the porch during their girl’s afternoon. If these were the types of conversations he’d have been subjected to, being banished to the deck was an act of kindness.

The lobby of the Refuge was huge with several comfortable couches scattered around a rock fireplace. The kitchen and dining room were off to the side. Out of habit, Squish checked windows and doors, memorizing locations and viability.

Several of the scattered tables were occupied by small groups of men. He scanned them for signs of trouble, but saw no one who looked like a Hollywood movie star or spoke with a British accent.

The kitchen was huge, gleaming with stainless steel and polished counters. The women hunted down their cocktail mixes and filled their arms with a collection of liquor bottles. He eyed the alcohol with misgivings. Just how drunk were they planning on getting?

“We should swing by and see if Henley can join us,” Alaska said, as she stepped back from the liquor cupboard and relocked the hasp. “You’ll like her. She has a daughter. But Jasna is spending the night with some of her school friends.”

They backtracked through the dining room and lobby. He shot the dudes at the tables a suspicious look, but none of them were paying attention to the women.

Henley, the woman Alaska had mentioned, was straightening chairs in one of the smaller rooms at the back of the building. It took seconds for Alaska to Shanghai her into joining them. And then there were three, yet somehow the noise level quadrupled.

By the time they reached Brick’s cabin, his ears were ringing. Shit, if he’d known the threat posed to his hearing this afternoon, he would have worn his noise protection gear.

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