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Second Chance SEAL(98)

By:B. B. Hamel


I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Last night had been insane, absolutely crazy. As soon as I heard that gun go off, I knew something had gone wrong. In my mind, Travis was dead on the ground somewhere. I freaked out and lit the fuses and then ran like hell back to the car.

The explosions had nearly knocked me flat on my face. I had stumbled and my ears had rung like crazy as I managed to get back to the car. While I waited for him, I’d heard the ATVs riding around in the distance and the sounds of shouting.

I’d been worried he wouldn’t show up, but he did. He materialized from the tree line wearing that mask and scared the hell out of me, but there he was, safe.

I couldn’t imagine what he did down there. I didn’t ask about the gunshot, because I was afraid to know the truth. He had probably killed someone down there, or something equally bad, and I didn’t want to know. I understood that the Caldwells were dangerous, and that he was doing this for me, but still. I couldn’t imagine killing someone.

That was what he did, though. He was a Navy SEAL, and he was trained to kill America’s enemies. That was different from killing gang members, though, or maybe it wasn’t. I just didn’t know how I felt about the whole thing, but the fear and the adrenaline still seemed to linger inside me.

I got up slowly and smelled coffee brewing in the other room. I was slightly surprised that he was up already and even more surprised that he was making coffee. But I wasn’t about to complain. I got some clothes on and stumbled out into the kitchen.

Travis was standing in front of the stove wearing nothing but black gym shorts. I stopped short and stared at his muscular back, at the tattoos that snaked along his skin. I kept forgetting in all of the excitement just how attractive he really was, how he made my body feel.

“Morning,” he said.

“Oh, uh, good morning,” I said.

“You gonna stand there and stare, or do you want some pancakes?”

I paused. “You made pancakes?”

“Sure as hell did.”

“Wow. You’re a SEAL and a chef. I’m impressed.”

“Cooking pancakes is my specialty, mainly because it’s easy and brainless.”

I laughed, the spell broken. I walked into the kitchen and got myself a mug of coffee while he flipped the pancakes, stacking the finished ones on a plate.

I watched him cook for a few minutes, fascinated. Travis just didn’t seem like the kind of man who would cook me breakfast. Frankly, he seemed like the type to kick me out in the morning and pretend like we’d never spoken to each other.

Then again, this wasn’t exactly a normal situation we were in. Not many men got involved in my mafia-related issues, and so he was already heads above the rest.

When he was finished, he put a plate in front of me, a plate in front of himself, and the plate of pancakes between us. He sat down and gestured.

“Get at it,” he said, serving himself.

I smiled and grabbed a small stack, drowning it in syrup. I took a big bite, and it was delicious.

“Okay, so what’s the reason for this?” I asked him.

“Rough night last night. Pancakes solve most problems.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Trust me. Global warming? Terrorists? Throw pancakes at it.”

“Seems like you’d be out of a job if terrorism were solved so easily.”

He grinned at me. “Great point. Fuck pancakes.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as we continued to eat.

“Listen,” he said finally, “I want to go see a friend today.”

“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “That’s fine with me.”

“Well, not really a friend, but someone who knew Janey back in the day.” He paused and swallowed a bite of pancake. “I have a plan.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“Yeah, but I want to get more info on Janey before we go ahead with it. Can you trust me on this?”

I nodded once. “Okay.”

“Good. Don’t worry, there won’t be any explosions or gunshots today.”

“Darn. I was just starting to enjoy them.”

He smirked and leaned toward me. “We can get some fireworks going right now, if that’s what you really want.”

“Probably not the safest thing in the world, setting up explosions in my apartment.”

“Dangerous things are more fun though.”

I laughed and shook my head. “You might be right about that.”

He leaned back in his chair, grinning at me, as I finished off my stack of pancakes.

What a strange man. He had a point though. Despite all of the insanity and the danger, I felt more alive than I ever had before. I didn’t think it was because we were doing dangerous things, though.