SEAL Encounter (SEAL Brotherhood)

SEAL Encounter

By

Sharon Hamilton



Copyright © 2012 by Sharon Hamilton

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Author Note

This is a short piece written to introduce you to my characters, Kyle and Christy. It is a small investment of time and money on your part, like the first course to a much larger meal.

This is a private glimpse into the hearts and minds of these fictional SEALs, their community, and the women who are lucky enough to be loved by them. Their brotherhood, loyalty and mission to protect and defend, sometimes at great personal cost, is what makes them heroes.  They do so quietly, not seeking public recognition. 

If you enjoy this piece, I hope that you will continue along the journey in
Accidental SEAL
,
and read how these two get together, and fight dangers that threaten to keep them apart.

Christy and Kyle meet quite
by accident
in the very first chapter, and not in any way you could predict. But rest assured, they will find themselves together at the end in an intense and passionate relationship
on purpose.

I hope you enjoy their story.

Sharon Hamilton

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Chapter 1

Her legs were as long and slender as he liked them, reaching all the way to Heaven. Just a hint of muscle. Special Operator Chief Kyle Lansdowne, LPO for SEAL Team III, watched her maneuver between travelers in Terminal 3 at the San Francisco airport. She lithely dodged passengers and rolling luggage, searching for something.

Well, he did have a few minutes before he had to board that big plane home.

He tilted his head to the side, leaned against a concrete pillar and watched her from that angle.

Even nicer.
She’d be a good swimmer, he thought.

He could also imagine those legs wrapped around his waist as he pumped her in a bed smelling of lavender and gardenia. Maybe she’d still have on remnants of some expensive underwear. She’d arch, and he’d have her breasts overflowing in his palms, as he’d bend down to kiss them. She’d have pink toes, he mused. Maybe a French manicure.

Where are you going, little angel?

She must not be from around here. But then, how would he know? He wasn’t either. She turned her head from side to side, her blonde locks gracefully brushing against the tops of her creamy white shoulders and smooth muscles of her upper back. He could imagine her naked with that hair cascading down places he would love to kiss.

He licked his lips. He saw her all pink and naked. Was dying to see her face.

Heaven help me, I’m lost.

If he could get close enough, perhaps her proximity would send a gentle wafting of pheromones and perfume his way and make him forget he was in an airport, waiting to go home to the base at Coronado. With a shiver, he imagined her scent.

Yeah, he was all in. Any minute now he’d miss his plane and just go find her. He stiffened, prepared to go on his quest. He aimed his body like a drone for a brisk walk in her direction. Target in sight. Capture imminent.

“You need a couple more days decompression, Lanny.” The voice of his Team III medic stopped Kyle’s forward motion. Calvin “Coop” Cooper had once again interrupted his reverie. He looked up at the 6’7” SEAL and then back into the crowded promenade.

She was gone.

“Damn,” Kyle whispered.

He’d told himself every day of his deployment in Afghanistan that he wouldn’t waste so much time dodging and then searching for the fairer sex. He needed some female companionship like never before. Could a team guy have that internal clock-ticking thing women talked about on those stupid shows? A clock that wasn’t attached to a timed IED?

“I saw her first,” Coop said.

Kyle grunted, but continued to scan the terminal.

Coop added, “But she wasn’t looking at anybody. She doesn’t flirt. I tried.”

Kyle looked up into Coop’s crystalline eyes. The SEAL continued, “You’ll have to catch her when she least expects it.” Coop was suppressing a grin by pursing his lips, but his eyes gave him away. About to burst into a smile in spite of himself.

Coop liked to tease him about not making the rounds at the SEAL bars in San Diego. That’s how he earned one of his nicknames, Landrover, shortened to Lanny. They also called him Landmine because things tended to explode when he arrived on scene, stateside or otherwise. The nickname he hated the most was Lamb Chop because he thought it sounded like a guy with peach fuzz instead of a beard. People who called him that had to know him well, or they’d earn a proper decking.

He didn’t go cruising for sex like Cooper, Fredo and Armando did. So did most of the other guys on his squad. Some went for the booze, some, like Cooper, for the babes. Kyle always preferred to keep to himself. Or just hang privately with one or two other guys from the community.

“Coop, how the hell did you get to be such an expert on women? You spent your whole life under a tractor.” Kyle tilted his head and squinted at the Nebraska-farm boy-turned-SEAL.

Coop gave one of his famous smiles, exposing his perfect white teeth.

“I know about the equipment and how to make it purr. I know where to put the oil and where to put the grease.” He winked.

Kyle searched the crowd again without finding her. He halfway expected to pick up her scent. “You must have seen those legs,” he said without looking up at Cooper.

“I did indeed,” Coop returned. He joined the scanning, continuing to stand right next to his chief.

“Makes me glad we’re back in the U.S. of A.,” Kyle started. “Was hoping she’d be some kind of grateful and welcome me home. Properly.”

Cooper chuckled. “That would be something,” he said. “Well, I’m off to join Fredo in the bar. Wanna come?”

“You don’t drink, Coop.”

“I didn’t say I was gonna drink. I said I was gonna join Fredo in the bar. And make sure he made the plane.”

“Good idea. I’ll be along shortly.” Kyle was still staring into the crowd. He thought perhaps he’d caught a glimpse of her shiny straight blonde hair.

“Do I have to worry about you?” Coop asked. He sighed when he got no answer. “Okay then. Later.” He leaned into Kyle with a conspiratorial whisper, “I’d get your tongue off the floor. No telling what kind of germs there.”

Kyle delivered a punch to Coop’s arm a little harder than usual. He watched the gangly SEAL, the medical and gadget wizard of SEAL Team III, amble off toward the Crab Shack Bar and Grill.

Kyle began his hunt.  His footsteps went to stealth mode without a sound. His walking speed bested most people’s runs. Just like in sniper training. He was anxious to close the distance between them.

San Francisco had always been one of Kyle’s favorite cities. Right after BUD/S training, he came up several weekends in a row. In those early days, he preferred to go out of town to find dates, rather than risk being identified as a newbie frog in San Diego. And no one would believe a SEAL would want to hang out in the City by the Bay. They weren’t exactly friendly to military these days. Presidio was full of movie production offices now. The base was sold off like one of the ghost ships nearby in the Suisun Bay.

But after his two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, he found he didn’t want to go to all the trouble just to find someone to have a little fun with. Consequently, he kept his profession and his identify close to the vest. Preferred the company of other team guys.

Truth was, he was also a little shy around women. His mother had died when he was  in high school. Hanging around a bunch of career Navy and team guys didn’t help him learn how to maneuver around females at all, that is, without making them run in the other direction. But, as the team LPO, he was expected to show confidence in everything he tackled.

Where is she?
Certain she was somewhere ahead, he continued.

He realized he sucked when it came to women. He fell too fast and scared them off. He was too intense, wanted things too hard, didn’t know how to play the little games of seduction. He would wind up with a string of one-night stands. Feeling unsatisfied. Just as alone as before. At least in Afghanistan he had his buds around him. Men who would die to keep him safe. And he’d do the same. That kind of intensity he could understand.

Women are different.

But give him something to blow up, some bad guy to snatch, or a target to hit, and Kyle didn’t have a moment’s hesitation. He knew just how lethal he was. Maybe too lethal. Even for his own good.

Something sparkly caught his eye. There she was, several yards in front of him, with her carry-on bag slung over her right shoulder. He started following her down the corridor without thinking.

Like a bull moose.

Her straight skirt hugged the curves of her sweet derriere in ways that made Kyle jealous. With her long legs, she looked calm and casual, but she was booking it down the granite tiles to another departure gate.  He smiled and sped up to—
do what?

It would be just his luck. She was probably a model, on her way to New York or Paris. No way he’d be lucky enough even if he caught up to her. What the hell do you say to a woman like that? No doubt she was late to meet up with a lover who was whisking her off for a romantic week somewhere. How he wished he could be that guy.

A luggage cart laden with bags piled four and five deep cut right across Kyle’s focused path and he wound up on the floor, covered in Samsonite. He didn’t want to look down the hall to see if she noticed him. It was bad enough to face the crowd of laughing elementary school kids who had been following behind the cart. Kyle became their distraction of the moment.

He checked a sting coming from his elbow and found blood. He’d have to explain this to Cooper, who would patch him up if the Team III medic could stop laughing long enough. That wasn’t going to be much fun.  Here he was, doing battle with luggage at the San Francisco airport without a bad guy in sight. On a mission to meet up with a pair of legs. But he’d lost the target.

It was the same sorry story day in and day out. He picked up the nearest red bag and tossed it as hard as he could throw.

Christy Nelson heard the chirping laughter of the school children. It was funny seeing their bright red Sports Academy bags tumbling over luggage of all colors, like strawberry sauce on top of a sundae. Then, like an erupting volcano, one sports bag spewed from the top of the pile and flew half way across the terminal corridor. That’s when she knew someone had been buried under all the debris. Someone who could throw a thirty-pound bag fifty feet.

Thank God it’s no child.
With several chaperones scurrying to sort out the mess, Christy took her leave, looking for the store her mother had loved.

Every time her mother visited Christy, she would bring her a little charm from the airport store. Christy was desperate to find it. She intended to bury a golden angel at her mother’s gravesite as soon as she got to San Diego. For good luck. For guidance.

Maybe I better buy one for myself.

With her mother’s estate settled, something she’d been able to do by computer and fax long distance, Christy was going back to San Diego one last time to meet the Realtor she’d hired to sell her mother’s condo on the waterfront. She prayed she’d made the right choice. A quick sale would mean she’d have to spend little time there, inside the four walls that watched her mother whither away.