Hot SEAL, Confirmed Bachelor- Cynthia D'Alba Page 0,13
times when his team had pulled out a win even with weak information, but this mission had been one screw up after another, and none of them had been based on his team’s performance.
Day one in country, mission intel had led to a dry hole. No hostage. No rebel warriors.
Day two, HAVOC had the team chasing their tails like a bunch a wet-behind-the-ears rookies. The first piece of valuable intel had come from the team’s recon of the area, not from command.
By day three, the hostage taken from Doctors Without Borders had been located. Unfortunately, he’d been shot at least twenty-four hours before he was discovered.
Benjamin hated failed missions. He despised bringing home a dead hostage, even if his team bore no direct responsibility for the execution. But during debrief, the question was tossed on the table if his team’s recon missions in the area had somehow forced the rebels’ hand, causing them to react with dumping the doctor. There was no firm answer to that, but the possibility ate at his gut.
His team was his family, the only family he acknowledged anyway. Their missions were critical to the safety of the nation. When something went wrong, he felt it to his core.
The team had been released until Monday, but of course, all that meant was they had a few hours away from Camp Pendleton. Benjamin appreciated his guys had personal time to spend with girlfriends and families, but he needed to spend more time reexamining the mission to see where they could have performed better.
“Get out of your head, C-Note,” Jacob Fowler, his second-in-command said. “You can hula-hoop down main street, and nothing is going to change. We did good. Hell, with the shitty intel, we did better than good.”
“We brought home a dead hostage,” Benjamin said with snarl. “How is that good?”
“We gave his family closure. The guy was dead long before we had a chance to rescue him. Now at least, his family isn’t sitting imagining all kinds of horrible things that might happen to him.”
Benjamin slapped the metal frame of his lockers. “Fuckers.”
“You know it,” Jacob agreed. “Come on. The guys are getting together a pickup basketball game. It’ll be good for you to work out some of that stress.”
Two hours of sweaty, no-holds-barred, hip-bumping basketball was exactly what he, and the team, needed to burn off their frustrations. Luckily, none of them left the game with more than a few bruises, which for this competitive group, was somewhat of a minor miracle.
Normally, he’d head home to shower, but after being out of country for a week, the food in his fridge was probably green when it should be another color, or showing the black shade of death. He had to do some grocery shopping. and frankly, he thought he smelled a little ripe.
After showering on base, he packed away his clothes and tossed the duffle bag into the rear seat of his truck. Before he could start the engine, his cell phone vibrated across the dash.
Never one to answer the phone without at least seeing who was breaking into his day, he smiled as the name “Holly Maxwell” flashed.
“Blackwell.”
“Ben?” Her voice was tentative as though she wasn’t sure if she’d reached the right person.
“Good morning, Holly,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
She chuckled, and he heard a smile in her voice.
“A little rough. Thank you for the water and aspirin. That was unexpected but deeply appreciated.”
“Glad to be of service.” He waited for the dinner invitation he knew would come. They always did.
“Thank you playing along last night with my sisters-in-law—well, one almost sister-in-law. It’s a long story why I lied to them, a story I’m sure you don’t want to hear. Anyway, thank you for getting me and my car home safely.”
He continued to wait for that dinner reservation disguised as “I owe you a favor.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Wasn’t a problem at all.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute, then, “And don’t worry. I’ll tell everyone next weekend that we tragically split up. That should get them off my back for a couple of weeks.”
“Off your back…?,” he repeated, still not sure where this conversation was headed.
“Well, thanks again. Take care.”
And she clicked off.
He pulled his phone away from his ear, wondering if he’d dropped the call. After all, he’d been down this road before…a few favors, dinner, some sex, and then move on. Wash, rinse, and repeat.
Not that he’d ever done a favor in hopes of getting sex. Not at all. Women were