Page 27 of Legacy
The pilot signals that we’ve reached the proper altitude by flicking on a green light riding above the hatch. Hart stands, opens the door and turns to face me. I’m momentarily blindsided by the wide smile flashing my way, but compose myself and nod my head. I realized early on that I can’t look down when I’m jumping out. I can look before my feet leave the plane to gauge where I’m at in relation to the landing zone, but not while I’m flinging myself out. Luke holds on to me and we count down. The goggles are pinching my nose and I don’t like how the helmet makes my head itch—this is part of it. I focus on that I’m doing something my peers, who are new at this, haven’t done yet.
We tumble out of the plane at a speed that doesn’t feel nearly as fast as it actually is. He kept a hold of my arm the whole time and for that, I’m grateful and annoyed. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on making the perfect shape with my body to balance my weight. Arms out, legs bent a bit, yet separated, and my chest placed at the right angle to keep from bowing forward or backward and spiraling out of control. I check my altimeter, and only then, when I’m sure I’m under control, do I look at Luke’s face. He glides around gracefully, his body part wind, extending his hands to grab mine. His cheeks are flapping, and I’m sure mine are doing the same. The air rushes around us. My senses are overwhelmed with adrenaline so strong that it wallops me.
Before we pull apart to pull our chutes at a safe distance, my pulse ricochets.
Falling is easy when I’m holding Luke Hart’s hands.
* * *
I’m sitting cross-legged on a chair in Dagger’s room—rather, his suite. It’s larger than my room, but I assume it’s because I’m new. I sat here because it was far away from the beds. I pull my feet under me and take a sip of the drink Dagger handed me when I walked in. He greeted me like it was his hometown bar. It kind of is—bottles of every type of liquor you can think of line the desk in the corner of the room. There’s no piss beer in sight tonight. Sanders came with me and so did a new guy named Milo whom I haven’t had much interaction with. It’s Dagger, Luke, Mossimo, a man they call Babe, and three women of questionable background all drinking and shooting the shit.
Dagger announces that we should play a game and how he’d be upset if we didn’t take this opportunity when we’re forced to congregate indoors instead of at an establishment. I look away. It’s my fault. The OIC of training shut down all extracurriculars outside of skydiving and didn’t say why, but everyone knows. They see the media when we leave base and hotels. SEALs are used to being undercover operators, doing business in the cover of darkness—never in the spotlight. By being female, I threw on the light switch—more like a spotlight aimed at special operations.
“Medusa,” Dagger announces, pouring shots into red cups. “Everyone get into a circle around this table.” He picks up a coffee table from in front of the sofa next to me and places it in an open space near the window.
I crinkle my brow. “How do you play?”
“Yeah, I’ve never played this one,” one of the women says, tone annoyed and whiny.
Dagger, a man that exudes confidence at all times, explains the game. The confidence trails from work, where he’s damn near perfect at many things, to something as asinine as explaining a drinking game no one has heard of. As he tells us how to play, he fills dozens of red cups with a shot sized amount of alcohol. My eyes bug out as I realize I’m about to go toe to toe with men three times my size, with booze. Lightweight isn’t a term I’d use to describe myself in any other scenario.
“I’ll be the counter,” Luke says.
“We stare at the table, and then look up at someone on the count of three, and if both people are looking at each other we take a shot?” the woman Babe is draped over asks.
Dagger lifts and lowers his shoulders a few times. “You got it.”
Luke holds my gaze as I digest the rules. Exactly what I have to avoid if I’m going to return to my room walking later. Never look at Luke Hart. Got it. I’ll win for sure.
Luke announces we’re starting as Dagger pours a few more shots. “We go until all these are gone.”
I gulp and tip my head down, searching for a red cup that looks less full than others. This is supposed to be fun, not survival of the fittest. Then again, this is part of comradery and I’m grateful to be mingling. Even if it means risking my feelings for Hart on blatant display.
“Three, two, one,” is called out and I lift my head, decidedly glaring at the blonde woman on the side of Mossimo. He’s looking at the brunette woman Babe has claimed. Safe.
Sort of. Hart was looking at me—his gaze like a lit match to my core. My stomach flipping and my muted desire is explosive. There’s false whining as those who looked at each other take their shot. The next round is the same. I look at Sanders next to me, but he looks at one of the other women. Luke’s gaze is on me. My heart hammers, and I swallow down panic tinged lust. I don’t dare meet his eyes even now, when it’s safe. I offer a fake laugh as my teammates take their shot and pretend to be pleased. I want a hit of his blue eyes soaking into mine, the damn dimple popping when his smile pulls to one side making one eye crinkle.
I close my eyes and get into the ready position before Luke says it’s time. The scent of vodka fills the air as I look down at the cups.
Dagger snickers. “Not one shot yet, Dempsey?”
My head darts up. “Just lucky. I’m always pretty lucky with games like this.”
I can see Luke smirk from the opposite side of the circle in my peripheral vision. “Bullshit. You better drink this time.”
“Why? I want to win. Also, I want to walk out of here tonight without a hangover tomorrow morning.”
Sanders chimes in. “Drinking is winning, Dempsey. Come on. You know that.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Are we going to debate this all night or are you stalling because you know I’m going to kick your ass?”
“Let’s move. Everyone shifts around to different spots in the circle. Head down, eyes closed.”
“Brilliant,” the blonde scoffs. “We can trip all over each other.”
There is snickering as we move around the table. I’m about to stop a few feet from where I was before, but at a touch, a warm, firm grasp on my waist, my eyes fly open as I peer behind my shoulder. Luke licks his lips, disobeying the rules, eyes open as he moves around Dagger and Milo to stand away from me.
If I thought ignoring him electrified my body, now that he’s made a blatant pass at me in front of our teammates, I’m turned on beyond measure and sort of horrified. Everyone around us is stumbling into their places, unaware. Hart must have noticed and used the opportunity to flummox me completely. I hate that he knows what he does to me. The adrenaline coursing my veins makes me feel jittery. I’m the one who needs the shots more than anyone else.
