Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,51
black jeans and work boots.
His stance was action-ready, direct and confident. Warrior.
“Griff, this is Shea Palmer. Shea, Griff.”
“The ever-elusive undercover agent,” he said with a dazzling smile. He reached out his hand and they shook briefly.
“Guilty as charged.” She smiled back.
“Griff is a former SEAL.”
“That fits,” she said, and he leaned against the desk across from Mak’s and folded his arms.
“Those are my brothers being threatened, so we’re all in.”
“We’ll keep them safe,” she said.
“Hoo-yah,” he replied.
They worked through all the men on her list until the wee morning hours. With strong coffee and a break, they were back at it. It wasn’t until she’d headed home to her condo to catch a few hours of sleep and take a shower that she saw she’d missed Hemingway’s calls. She could only hope the warrant for Wilson’s DNA in the AFIS database would be granted. That would give them probable cause to toss his room and question him.
Hemingway was already in his fifty-meter underwater swim evolution when Shea finally got back to Coronado. Shea was a swimmer, and she knew the water, respected it. But SEALs were the ultimate maritime commandos. Their task was to swim underwater and hold their breath for fifty meters. There would be no dive, no pushing off the wall, just a somersault, the swim down and back. Her lungs hurt just thinking about it.
Most of the class was in the front to back sitting position to stay warm, with only a few candidates looking dejected as they pumped out push-ups. One guy was shaking so badly, her heart went out to him. While she filmed and watched, his face contorted as he rose and said something to the instructor, who nodded. Slowly the candidate walked off the deck. She suspected he was headed for the bell.
He looked crushed.
“This is his second time through, he was medically rolled back. Solid guy, played football in high school. Tough disposition, but he has pneumonia, and getting through this stage of the game with a lung issue isn’t happening. Each candidate is only allowed two medicals. He’s out,” Mad Max said, watching the guy’s progress, no sympathy in his eyes. This was some hard, heartbreaking business, and there could be no weakness, no failures, no quitting. Max and the rest of the active SEAL teams depended on each other.
Standing there, watching him walk away, Shea looked to Hemingway, who was shouting out encouragement to the men who were still swimming. This was what it looked like to become one of the SEAL brotherhood. The class was starting to get tight—she could see it in their faces, the way they cheered their classmates on. This was deep commitment, fierce focus, full investment. She envied Hemingway for a moment, as her line of work was more of a solitary nature. Of course, she knew she would be backed up by fellow agents, but this was different, iconic, legendary. He was a part of it, in his element.
Her throat got tight. He deserved someone better than a woman who couldn’t face her own fears, who couldn’t let go of her need to see the man who murdered her sister dead. She dreamed about it, planned it. It had to be done whether she was falling for him or not.
When he entered the condo, Shea was cutting up fruit—watermelon, kiwi, strawberries, bananas. At this stage in the training, Hemingway was hungry all the time.
“That looks good.”
“There’s enough here for me to don a whole basket and start singing like Carmen Miranda,” Shea said, joking to release the tension across her shoulders.
She started singing a silly song in Spanish. He breezed past and ducked into the laundry room. Her stomach dropped a bit. He’d barely had time today to say two words to her. She wiped her hands on the dish towel and covered the fruit, setting it into the fridge. She planned on ordering pizza.
Walking to the laundry room, she pressed her back against the frame. He’d stripped off his shirt and was chucking his clothes into the washer.
The thick muscles beneath his tanned skin flexed and bunched with every move he made. He didn’t acknowledge her, even though she knew he must have heard her behind him. Her stomach tightened.
She took in his buzzed, golden hair, the chiseled cut of his jaw, and that beautiful mouth that had given her so much pleasure. She’d wanted to see him smile and her lame Carmen Miranda joke wasn’t doing it.
“I’m thinking pizza, extra cheese, mushrooms