A SEAL at Heart Read Online Free

wrangle the ladies in Jack’s direction and it was a sure thing that his pocket would have a few phone numbers. Sometimes, he’d even take someone for a spin on the town.
    Shit! When the fuck would he feel like himself again?
    “Promise me you’ll go tonight.” Gich was studying him again. A man’s word was a bond that was never broken in the SEAL community. Might as well have said, “Put your balls on the table, and if you don’t do as I say, I’ll slice ’em off and pocket ’em.”
    Gich would badger him until he agreed, and the Commander ten times out of ten knew best. He’d give it a try. What could it hurt? It couldn’t be any worse than spending weeks in a hospital bed.
    “Yeah,” said Jack. “I’ll go.” Though he knew he’d probably not enjoy it.
    The back of Jack’s head squeezed tight again, reminding him that the head injury was still an issue. But as the Commander was fond of saying, “Where the body goes, the mind follows.” Maybe a little interaction—some puss and hoots—would go a long way toward finding some kind of relief or momentary happiness.
    ***
    The beat-up yellow Jeep slid into an empty parking spot only a few blocks from the Naval Special Warfare fund-raiser. Jack didn’t bother securing the torn soft top. There was nothing of value inside, not even a radio. Though he did shove the Bluetooth speaker under the seat.
    The last vestiges of light were slipping from the sky as the ripe smell of seasoned meat filled the air. He was tempted to ditch the NSW event and go to the Strip Club for a steak.
    A memory flashed through his mind of grilling T-bones to perfection with Don, his wife, and their five-year-old daughter. God, it was barely two months ago! They’d feasted and Sheila had announced she was pregnant at the meal. A game ensued of toasting her all evening long until she drove the lot of them home.
    “Shit!” Jack swallowed hard and forced the vivid moment from his mind. Dwelling on the past, especially the loss of his swim buddy, was not helping. He knew he needed to deal with his friend’s death, but until he knew what had happened on that mission, he didn’t know how. Maybe once he remembered, he’d finally be able to look Sheila in the eye.
    Rubbing his hand over his head, he lingered on the scar. If his buddy’s death was his fault, he’d own it. If someone else were responsible for Don’s death, he would bring justice.
    Without that missing bit of knowledge though, he was in limbo.
    Let it go. For at least one night, Jack, you need to be someone else. Take a break from yourself. He nodded his head, deciding his gut was providing good advice.
    Pointing his feet in the direction of Dick’s Last Resort, he set off. The slap of his feet against the pavement felt good. Anything physical seemed to be healing. This morning he’d run six miles and swum for an hour. His body had felt somewhat spent, but his mind was still spinning on the hamster wheel.
    “Hey, Jack, good to see ya!” Hank Franks, a Master Chief in SEAL Team THREE, slapped his back and then enthusiastically shook his hand. His arm felt like a pump trying to pull up water from a rusted pipe. “Are you on your way to Dick’s? Have you met Dan McCullum, our new weapons specialist?”
    Jack nodded and shook Dan’s proffered palm. “Good to see you again, Dan. Been a while.”
    “Yeah,” said Dan warmly. Pointing to his head, he asked, “How’s the noggin? I heard there was some action.”
    “Healing.” Jack withdrew his palm and looked forward. He didn’t want to say anything about the Op.
    Franks wrapped an arm possessively around the woman walking next to him. Her heels clicked a swift staccato on the sidewalk, keeping time with their pace. “Hey, have you met my wife?”
    The lady beside the Master Chief smiled shyly. “I’m Rita. Happy to meet you, Jack.” The emerald dress hugged her body as if she were a pinup girl, but it was the humor and happiness in her eyes when she looked at