SEAL the Deal(92)

Mick’s eyes narrowed. “May I speak frankly, Sir?”

The Captain smirked. “You always did.”

“You deserted us under heavy fire, for no reason I can guess, except that you were afraid of getting a dent in your Black Hawk helicopter.”

“For no reason you can guess,” the Captain repeated. “Will you listen to yourself? There are things that happen in the field that even you don’t know. You may not have the clearance to know why we had to pull out the bird and risk your team. But you’ve served with me on five missions and you should have known that if I pulled out, then there were more lives on the line than just your sorry asses.”

The Captain narrowed a steady gaze on Mick. “You and me, Mick? We’re not friends. I don’t owe you explanations. If you start thinking you deserve explanations from your CO then you better get out of the SEALs.”

Mick shifted uncomfortably.

“Son, you better learn to stop jumping to conclusions in your life and give the people who have earned your trust a lot more leeway. Not everything’s in black and white.”

Mick’s eyes dropped. “I’ve been hearing a lot of that lately.”

The Captain gave a curt nod, ending that part of their conversation. “I’m not here for a social call or to put some salve on your old wounds. I’m here because we’re recalling you for a mission.”

Mick’s eyes met the Captain’s, stunned.

“You’ll be briefed on the C-17 out of here. There’s a car waiting outside to take you to Andrews. The Academy will be notified that someone will need to replace you.”

“Will I be coming back?”

Captain Shey laughed. “You’d be crazy as hell to start asking that question now. But you might. Right now, I’m just interested in the next few weeks of your life. I could care less what happens to you after that.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, why me?”

“Because we’re going back to that area outside of Kandahar. No one knows the terrain better than you and Lieutenant Sully. Sully’s out, of course, on account of his leg.” He stood from the table and reached for his cap. “I’ll give you a couple minutes to grab your ID and tags. Might want to take out the trash,” he suggested casually. “It’ll be a while before anyone sees the inside of this place again. Welcome back, Mick. Don’t call me a pansy-ass again.”

Mick jumped to attention and remained frozen even after he heard the front door close behind the Captain. He felt a stirring in his blood that he hadn’t felt in months, a surge of adrenaline that shook him from his stunned stupor and sent him up the stairs to grab his things.

ID and tags. Shaving kit. Desert cammies. He stuffed them into his rucksack, and glanced at the phone, feeling the need to hear Lacey’s voice on the other end. But he knew he couldn’t tell her he was going.

He put on his khakis to travel to the airport, knowing he would box them when he got to Andrews. Lacey would find out eventually, he knew. Rumors were quick to spread, and Jack would do some searching when he came back from Spring Break and didn’t find Mick in his office.

Mick heaved a frustrated sigh. Why did he and Lacey have to fight now? Was it like Maeve had said?

Damn it, he loved her. Funeral crasher or not. He still loved her. She knew that, right?

Never let the people you love wonder how you feel. It’s a waste of precious time. Mrs. B’s words haunted him now. He could remember when she said it to him, only days after Doc died. He hadn’t listened or understood.

God, I’m an a-hole, he thought, the reality of it killing him.

He glanced at himself in the mirror as he pulled his razor off the sink. He looked like hell. Of all the times to be pulled into a SEAL mission. He hoped he could manage some sleep on the fourteen hour flight to the Middle East.

Charging out of his bedroom, he stopped for a second and looked over his shoulder. The house was a mess. No matter. No one would touch his house while he was on a mission.

Unless he got killed.

Then it would be Jack, Mick imagined, who would pack his things. He just hoped that Jack would break his word in this one case, and tell Lacey that Mick had wanted to marry her.

Mick would want her to know he cared about her that much, admired her that much.

Loved her that much.

A curious lump in his throat, he darted toward a heap of dirty clothes in the corner of the room and searched the pockets of the pants he wore last night. Pulling out the ring box, he opened it, and set it on his dresser.

There.

If Mick couldn’t come home to her, she’d find out how he felt.

He could hear the hum of the motor outside his house as he turned off the lights, grabbed the kitchen garbage bag, and locked the front door behind him.