Chapter 4

Understanding the soul is like pinning down a buoyant spirit. You have to catch it, crush it, and analyze it before you understand it—but then it’s changed forever. Leaper mused on that heavy thought as he hummed the lyrics of Thirty Seconds to Mars’s “Kings and Queens.” The music cried of the ache in the soul, as if Jared Leto had looked into Leaper’s darkness and pulled out his struggles. Leaper agreed with the song. Even in full light, something lingered, a shadow that fell on the soul until the light could burn it away.

His head rocked in time to the song. Leaper knew he saw the world differently than most people, but the fact that musicians touched him so deeply made him aware of the kindred spirits out there. Was Kerry going to be one of those? He hoped so. If he was wrong about her, well, he’d already revealed too much, too soon. Why had he done that? Wasn’t it easier to stay closed off and apart from the world? That was his usual modus operandi.

His movements slowed until he was completely still, mired the quicksand of his worry. Sitting cross-legged on a wooden desk, where one wrong move meant a splinter in the ass, was a prickly experience. Leaper closed his eyes and attempted to meditate, approach it from a Zen prospective. “Oh-um.”

Offices in the BUD/S building reminded him of grade school—the stale smell of the air, the chalk dust. Windows were few and high off the ground so you couldn’t look in or out, and the walls were long and heavily fortified. Most of the doors opened to a large, flat playground area called the First Phase Grinder. There were outlines on the ground of Churchill fins for recruits to put their feet on when they lined up. A giant creature from the black lagoon, a gift from a graduating BUD/S class, watched as the trainees went through their calisthenics, were given announcements, etc. The area wouldn’t have been complete without the iconic brass bell, where trainees had the choice to ring-out and leave the program.

Leaper knew his share of guys who’d stayed in training and plenty who had rung out. But there were always reasons for a choice, two sides to every coin. He had always been glad he stayed, even on his worst days. Unfortunately, today he was feeling like he was about to get shot in the ass, and he didn’t know how to avoid it. “Ohh-uuummm.”

“Hell’s bells, what crap has landed on my desk?” boomed a deep baritone voice.

Leaper cracked an eyelid and focused on the figure in the doorway. The man’s body was so large, it filled the frame, blocking any sunlight from creeping through. “My god, you are mammoth! Have you gained weight?” Leaper asked Declan.

“Bastard!” Declan closed the distance in three strides and clapped his hand on the back of Leaper’s neck. Instead of clamping down and bestowing a nerve-cramping block, he pulled Leaper in for a hug. From beneath the massive arms, Leaper said, “Your pits smell like moldy cheese.”

A chuckle turned into a guffaw as Declan sat down in the old, squeaky chair about a foot from the desk. “Your breath smells like a camel’s ass.”

“You should know.” Leaper uncrossed his legs and hopped off the desk. He located another chair and pulled it closer. “How’s the leg?” He pointed to Declan’s prosthesis. “You’re limping more than usual.”

“Yeah, I might need another surgery, but it’s good enough for now. It gets me from here to there.” Declan tapped his temple. “How’s your skull? Still whacked?”

Hanging his head, Leaper clasped his hands together and hunched his shoulders. “Perhaps. I don’t know. The doctors think so, and oddly enough, today I actually want to talk. Do you have time?”

Pursing his lips, Declan got up from the squeaky chair, walked to the door, and closed it. He sat again. “You have my full attention. What’s going on?”

“Gabir.” The name alone spoke volumes. Declan had backed him up that day. He was Leaper’s best friend, swim buddy, and Teammate, and the experience tormented them both. It had been years before they could handle talking about it. Leaper wasn’t sure why he had told Kerry about it, but it couldn’t be taken back. He scrubbed his nails over his scalp and then clasped his hands together again. “I talked about it. Other than you, I’ve never…”

“I’ve shared with Maura. I told her about a year ago.” Declan shrugged. “I was holding our daughter in my arms, and the waterworks started. I couldn’t turn them off. Maura came in and found the two of us wailing, and she wrapped her arms us and starting singing ‘Amazing Grace.’ Both of us stopped and listened. After we put the baby in her cradle, I took her outside and told her about Gabir. She didn’t judge me or offer advice. She just listened.” Wiping a hand over his face, he added, “Must be a special soul, this lady, if you shared.”

“She…isn’t the reason I’m here.”

Declan leaned forward. “What is?”

“Declan, I’m worried that I’m broken.” Leaper slapped his palms on his chest. “Something’s snapped in here. I know I’ve avoided talking to you about my last Op, but everything is hitting me, and I can’t seem to fix it. You know me, I’m the man with a plan. I’ll follow the steps or wing it and get to my destination. But where am I going? My whole life has been the Team, and I don’t know who or what I am outside of it.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there, buddy. One option, you could contact the Honor Foundation and apply to their program. It’s an amazing foundation. I’ve heard it makes the transition for Spec Ops Warriors significantly easier.” Declan frowned. “But I think you’d have to be close to retiring to do that. I’m considering applying when I’m ready.” He lifted his hand and then dropped it. “You’re not retiring, are you?”

“I don’t know. It might be time for some kind of change,” sighed Leaper. “But you, my friend, are never retiring. They’ll have to physically remove you from the base to get you to go.”

Declan chuckled. “So true.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to leave the Navy. I just don’t know if I can continue to do all of this, or even if I’m…functioning right.” Leaper shrugged.

“Nah, I don’t buy that ‘functioning’ bit. Sure, you pissed off a lot of docs and most of the officers in the area, but what the fuck is new about that?” Declan swatted Leaper’s arm affectionately. “Frankly, if you weren’t questioning yourself, I might be worried. If you were up to your old antics—lacing the coffee with scotch bonnets, replacing the cushions with pudding in all the commanders’ chairs, or taking the Spec Ops dogs on a group serenade to SOCOM… Shit, I’m glad those days are behind you, Leaper.” He tapped his fingers together. “What makes you think your mind is on the fritz?”

“For years, we had this theory that we can get through everything, as long as we keep moving. A month dealing with doctors had me so twisted that by the time I was free of ’em, I almost bungee jumped from the Coronado Bridge. And yet a few of their questions penetrated my protective wall. Sometimes when my emotion gets too raw, hitting that dark place, a new piece of the puzzle shows itself.” Leaper let out a long, slow breath. “It fucking scares me. What it reveals is too…vulnerable. I fucking hate that feeling. I know that I cannot keep moving forever. I will have to stop, and then what? Who am I?”

“Join the club. That’s being human. Looking for purpose. Just because we do extraordinary and dangerous things doesn’t mean we don’t have normal concerns or feelings. We eat, sleep, fuck, make love, laugh, pay bills, fight with our mates, try not to mess up our kids, and keep a roof over everyone’s heads at the same time we keep the family happy. That’s not easy stuff.” Declan leaned back in his chair, and the poor piece of furniture creaked as if it were going to split in half. “We’ve been through the grinder together, and we’ve come out the other side. You know, my swim buddy, that leaves scars. You watched me break down when the shit hit the fan with my leg, and it still rubs me raw that it was the mental aspect—not the physical challenge—that busted my balls as I literally found my footing. At the time, I had this image of what I needed to look like and who I needed to be, and that expectation nearly killed. Took me a long time to let go and accept myself. Emotions can tie you up in knots. The main thing to remember is, there’s no such thing as good or bad when it comes to life and memories. Judgment doesn’t change any facts; it only hangs a target on your survival and longevity. The best course of action is to just watch, listen, and let the world teach you. Take what works and let go of what doesn’t. Then fucking forgive, and release the negative energy.”

“Pretty Zen of you. I was practicing my best pose on your desk there.” Leaper gave Declan a sheepish smile. “So you’re saying this is…useful. That I should see what my brain says—if it gives me info I need to share—and then do so. Take a life lesson if that works, or let it go.” Leaper bobbed his head. “Brother, I’m still a fuckup. Why did you want me here, at BUD/S?”

“Leaper, I’ve been requesting your presence for the past two years. I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t think you have a lot more to say and a ton more to teach these trainees. Hell, most of these guys never make it out of the gate. We’ve had several black classes, and it’s tough to not see anyone make it to graduation. You give trainees the lesson along with the challenge, and they get something more out of it. I wish more of the instructors did. Besides, I lose instructors every rotation, because some guys go on massive power trips and squash spirits instead of teaching important techniques. I know you. You are very different, my friend. You have no ego.” Declan patted Leaper’s back and left his hand there for several seconds. “You’ve got a ton of crazy, that’s for sure, but in my book that’s a good thing. Trust your instincts, Lefty. Your ideas are worthwhile.”

Leaper slapped away Declan’s hand playfully. “Aw, stop wooing me. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I knew life with you was going to be unusual when you admitted how much you loved music, and that if you had to choose a theme song it would be the Pixies’ ‘Where Is My Mind?’” Declan threw his hands up in the air. “Who defines himself by a song, let alone that song? Damn, Leaper.”

“Well, hell, everyone should soundtrack their life.”

“Grapevine says you’ve got more than someone in your life. I’ll say it again: How am I the last to know the details? Tall? Fat? Short? Skinny? Blond? Brunette? Red? Or a combination of all of the above?” Declan frowned. “Thought I was your best friend, man, your brother, and this is how you treat me. I don’t know shit.”

Leaper rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, cry me a bucket of tears while I pull out my teeny violin and play along.” He touched Declan lightly on the arm. “Fuck off, Dec. I’m just getting to know her.”

“Maura will have a few things to say if you don’t bring her by the house soon. You think I’m being a drama queen? She freaks when she’s the last to know about something happening in your life. Don’t make her hunt down your lady and drag her to the house.” Declan sniffed loudly, goofing around. “You’d think you were her kid or something, the way she dotes on you. Might make a certain husband jealous now and then.”

“Uh-huh. Well, man, when you’ve got it—” Declan tackled Leaper then, cutting him off. Swim buddy love! The chairs fell over with loud bangs, and the wooden desktop cracked as they landed on it. They hit the floor with twin thuds, mock wrestling each other. Not that this was a standard approach, but this was private and they were closer than brothers. Besides, the odds were fairly even. Declan was big and strong, but Leaper was wiry and fast. Best case scenario: both of them would be going home with bruises. Worst case: one or both of them would be stopping at medical for touch-ups before they returned to work. It got the blood pumping and the men laughing, and after a few minutes they called it a draw.

* * *

People stood in long lines, waiting to eat. The diner in Point Loma was rocking fifties music cranked at maximum volume. The waitstaff was dressed in costumes to match the tunes, and the smell of burgers grilling and bacon frying made Leaper’s nostrils flare. He scanned the room looking for Kerry, who had chosen a booth in the dimly lit room against the far wall.

Sliding in next to her, he whispered. “The food is great here, especially the milk shakes, but it’s murder on my ears. Mind if we ditch for somewhere else?”

She nodded and placed her menu back on the table. He stood and offered his hand.

Kerry took it. As he pulled to her feet, he could see the edge of her white bra strap. If only they could substitute food time for another type of delight and satisfaction. Kerry must have read his mind, because she raised her eyebrows and brushed her chest against his before they maneuvered out of the tight enclosure. Together, they slipped out the back door and walked hand in hand.

“Let’s take my car,” she said.

“Sure.” Leaper didn’t feel like weaving around traffic right now, so it was probably for the best that they took her vehicle. He sighed softly. Though he appreciated Declan’s advice about not allowing images of what he should be to get in the way of what he actually was, adding a lady to the mix was another matter entirely. Shouldn’t he put his own life in order before getting closer to Kerry? There was all this minutia, this indefinable gobbledygook, that clogged his brain. God, maybe he was being silly. Kerry was awesome, and this was the first time he’d really connected with a lady like this.

Damn, this was frustrating. Why couldn’t someone just give him some answers?

“In-N-Out?” Kerry suggested. Her bright smile calmed him. Even the sound of her voice was soothing. He didn’t want to lose her, or whatever this was. “I like their grilled onions on burgers. Don’t ask me why, but I have a craving.” She unlocked the car, got behind the wheel, and buckled up.

“Sounds good.” He took the passenger’s seat. His mind was spinning in ten different directions as he buckled his seat belt. If only he could turn off his thoughts for a little while. He just wanted to enjoy this moment with Kerry.

Tracking the landscape as they headed for the burger joint, he listened to her talk. His mind drifted back to something one of the doctors had said. “Regardless of when you want to deal with issues, they will arise and demand attention. Keep that in mind as you walk out of here without taking advantage of all we have to offer. The backlash could be significant.”

Significant how? he wondered.

Kerry’s voice cut into his thoughts. Had she just asked him a question? He looked back at her blankly with no idea of what to say.

“Okay,” she said, “what’s going on? I’ve been babbling for almost twenty minutes.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “It’s too late to get out of line. We’re boxed in. Since we’re up next, what do you want to eat and drink?”

“Chocolate shake, fries with cheese, and lettuce wrap double-double plain with grilled onions.” Leaper rattled off his favorite items. This was a rare day, as he usually ate seafood, salads, and drank protein drinks and tons of lemon water, but when in Rome, or in this case, San Diego… Even the name In-N-Out usually made him smile, though his mood was subdued today.

“Please let me treat you.” Leaper handed her a twenty, watching her pause and wrestle with the thought. If she was thinking that hard, he’d already fucked up somehow.

She pulled through the line, paid using his money, gave him the change, and collected the food. Finally, she parked in front of a large billboard ad.

He watched her grab a small tub of disinfectant wipes from the backseat. She used one and gave one to him. When their hands were clean, she distributed the food and drink. They ate silently for several minutes.

Kerry broke the silence. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way about me, but I like you. The stuff we’ve shared means something to me. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Me neither,” Leaper agreed, holding her gaze. Please don’t give up on me.

“Let me take a guess. You’re feeling vulnerable.” She nodded. “I can see I hit the right answer. Fine. I get it. But don’t take your frustration out on me because you overshared. I shared my feelings too, and that was as honestly given as your sharing.” She folded up her napkin, spilling part of her burger.

He caught it and handed it back to her.

She placed it on a clean napkin. “Thank you.”

“Kerry, I’m sorry. I’m not good at this stuff.” Leaper put his hands on her free one, stilling her action of toying with the napkin edge.

“Who is? Dating stuff is mostly weird in the beginning, or so I’m told.”

He gave her a half grin. “You’re just…too easy to talk to, and I like…spending time with you.”

“So are you, for the record. You’re easy to chat with, to kiss, and to overall be with.” She opened the napkin, holding her burger and stuffed cheesy french fries between the meat patties. “I still can’t believe we went nighttime free diving and made love in a boat. Who does that?”

“Me. I love the water. And I know you do too. We…click on a lot of levels. I need to let go of my…trepidation.”

Kerry sighed. “Would it make you feel better if I bared my soul right now?”

Leaper nodded. “Maybe. But I have to tell you,” he said, cracking a smile, “I can appreciate the fact you called me on my shit. You’ve got guts, lady. Any SEAL worth his salt admires fortitude in a lady.” Nailing the truth, being able to spot an evasion and get to the absolute heart of a matter, was a personality trait most good SEALs had. This lady had serious gusto, and he admired it, even if he was massively uncomfortable being on the hot seat.

“Goodness. Thanks.” Kerry narrowed her gaze. “Guess I must really like you. Okay. Here it goes. This is a seriously embarrassing moment. When I was ten years old, I was stacked. I went from flat chested to a B cup practically overnight, and I was very self-conscious. So I did silly things like wear oversize T-shirts and walk with my shoulders hunched. The next year, my cup size changed to a D, and I was horrified, so I tried to strap my boobs down with an Ace bandage. During gym class, it came unwound, and I was hugely embarrassed. The boy I sort of liked made a grab for my breasts in front of everyone. I knew he was trying to be a big man, but I was furious. I decked him. From that day forward, they called me Combat Kerry.”

“Good for you for decking him,” said Leaper with an appreciative grin. “Standing up for yourself is important.”

“Right! I thought so too.” Her smile was huge. “I got suspended, but it was worth it. From then on, though, I never wore big shirts or hunched my shoulders. I never hid anything about my body or personality. People either liked me or they didn’t.”

“I never would have guessed you were ever awkward or shy. Confidence is a useful tool and a serious turn-on,” said Leaper as he toasted her with his milk shake. He took a long sip and then placed it back in the cup holder. “Okay. My turn. If you decide anything I say isn’t up your alley, I’m cool with us shaking hands and parting. Well, hell, that’s not true. I’ll be hurt, but I’d get it. Okay?”

She nodded. “Just rip the bandage off.”

“To be up front, so that you know what you’re signing up for…I’m dealing with some issues from combat.” He said the words quickly.

“You say that like you’re plunging a knife into your gut. Is it that hard to talk about?” Kerry asked, concern written all over her face.

“No. Maybe. Yes.” Leaper held up both of his palms in a “stop” gesture. “I’ve never really talked about any of this stuff. So everything is…new territory. I chat with my best bud, Declan, but…not in depth.” He dropped his hands into his lap. “I’m not sure when or how it will come up, but if I need space, I’m going to ask for it, and I won’t justify it. If I want to talk, I hope you’ll want to be there and listen.”

“Got it. What are the rules of engagement? How do you want me to proceed? Do you want me to prod you or just see where things go?” The thoughtfulness and respect in her tone caught him unaware. Kerry was a gentle soul.

“The second. Listening is good.”

“Thanks for the heads-up. Consider me briefed.” Lifting the burger to her mouth, she took a giant bite. Grease dribbled down her chin.

Turning his attention to his own burger, Leaper lifted the lettuce wrap and chowed down. Sometimes, the succulent taste of good quality food really hit the spot. If it didn’t, well, the grease would help it all slide through in the end. He laughed at his unspoken joke as the atmosphere in the car lightened.

His phone beeped. He turned off the alarm. “Listen, I have to bounce. My boys are facing live fire today, and I have to settle some logistics before I put them through the ringer this evening. Can we meet tomorrow?”

“Maybe. I have to work tomorrow, but I’m off the day after. You’re welcome to come by whenever. If I’m not home, I’m running errands, which usually don’t take long.” She leaned toward him. “I don’t have a lot of patience for shopping.”

“Bummer. I love the stuff,” he teased.

She threw her hands in the air. “Good to know. Then you are the designated shopper in this couple.”

“I like the sound of that.” Strangely, Leaper did. He was part of a couple. There were still a lot of unknowns that cluttered his emotions with doubt, but Kerry’s being open, their being a couple…he enjoyed those facts tremendously.

* * *

At the Advance Training Center, or ATC, down the Silver Strand from the Amphibious Base, Leaper and the other instructors were working on several scenarios for the live-fire exercise. Leaper had been leaning against the wall of the bunker for twenty minutes while the other instructors tossed around suggestions. Finally, his legs began to protest—he needed to move or sit down and take the weight off—so he spoke up. “If I’m understanding the point of this exercise, the recruits will experience live fire for the first time, and we are gauging their reactions. That’s it. They don’t need to move from point A to point B or perform any show-pony tricks.”

All eyes turned to him.

“What? I’m just summarizing.” Leaper shrugged his shoulders. “I read the announcement about the live-fire exercise on the Advanced Training Center base being conducted between 0900 and 1000, as well as boat maneuvers pending in late afternoon. Hard to believe they actually provide a URL for complaining. I wonder if it encourages or discourages feedback.”

“Lefton’s got a point. Not about the complaints, but about the action.” It was Zebbison “Zebbi” Davids, an instructor on loan from the British Forces. “The laddies need to do something. We have our guys play a mock capture-the-flag game for their first live-fire action.” Zebbi was a stocky man with a tense tone, a wonderful sense of humor, and even better taste in whiskey. Not that Leaper was drinking these days, but once upon a time, he’d joined Zebbi’s crew for a few nights out.

“I’m with Zebbi,” Leaper agreed. “If the men have something to do—moving from this room to that room and carrying their packs with them, or tending to a mock-wounded man—it will force them to engage a different part of the brain. Task action versus fear reaction.” Leaper smiled at Zebbi, who nodded his head. “At least they’d get something out of it, rather than just being scared shitless.”

The rest of the instructors considered those thoughts for a few more minutes.

Leaper pointed at his watch. “Time is running out. We have less than twenty minutes to prep now. Decide. I’ll be standing next to the ice plant.” He walked out of the old, shot-up bunker and stood near the large outcrop of ice plant.

A few minutes later a hand slapped his back. “We won, mate.” Zebbi’s lips clenched a half-chewed cigar. It was unlit, and Leaper knew how much the man wanted to light it, but there was a regulation about that on this new base too. Leaper sighed. When did the world develop so many rules? Would they be telling him how to use his cock next? In his mind, that was a lady’s choice—the right lady, of course.

Brrrupt!

“They decided. Let’s fetch the lads.” Zebbi said loudly over the sound of gunfire as he led the way around the hill toward the waiting recruits. The men looked nervous. Leaper didn’t blame them in the least. There was no doubt in his mind that this would be a crazy time.

* * *

A signal alarm sounded, announcing to the residential area beyond that this was a live-fire exercise. The chaotic sounds of gunfire commenced.

Next to him, Zebbi made the sign of the cross.

“Do an extra one for my guys, would you?” Leaper added.

Zebbi did.

Standing on top of the hill overlooking the bunkers, Leaper watched the recruits in Building A scatter to the corners like cockroaches when the lights are turned on. In this case, though, there were bullets piercing the walls, and the trainees had to carry out several tasks before making their way to Building C. The test would not be over until all the trainees had gathered together. If anyone got left behind, Leaper knew the instructors would keep going…at least until the ammunition was gone.

Leaper located his men. This was good—they were sticking together, helping each other out. Several of the guys hyperventilated, and Watson was belly-crawling to another Team leader, trying to get him out. Without Parks, his group was at five members. It meant the usual two by two couldn’t happen. They would have to figure out a new buddy system. He hoped his trainees had hashed out that concept already.

“Use your knife to open the box,” whispered Leaper under his breath—not that his guys would hear him from this distance. He was sort of praying for a Yoda-Skywalker moment.

Watson smashed the box with his fist and removed a document from inside. He put it inside a watertight envelope and pushed it down his shirt. Then he crawled back to his crew.

Captain Kirk was hyperventilating, and the rest of the group was calming him down. They were losing valuable time, but they were acting as a one unit, and that was reassuring.

The other Teams were already working their way toward the door. Leaper’s group was the last in Building A.

“They’ve got a lot of work to do. I’d be surprised if the last two hugging the wall don’t ring out by the end of day,” said Zebbi.

“Room for improvement can be a good thing,” said Leaper as he walked with Zebbi along the ridge to watch the recruits in the next building. “I noticed that your trainees split off and lost their buddy and their group. I’ll take my guys over yours any day.”

“We’ll see.” Zebbi’s jaw tensed, and he looked at Leaper for several seconds before he headed down the hill.

Leaper paused. The vantage point was useful. It gave perspective…about his guys and where they were in the training process compared to the other groups. Oddly enough, it also provided a little insight on life. Beyond the buildings, the waves crashed on the shore. A few SEALs with the day off were surfing with kites, sliding up and over the waves. The current picked up as the waves drew the water ever closer to the shore. The ocean was alight with white peaks and sun-ray diamonds sparkling on the surface.

Outlook. Positioning. Point of view. If only the recruits could see today as any other day, without the fear and panic. Then they’d have clarity of mind and perform better. Wasn’t that a hard truth about war—that somewhere in the world the sun was shining, people were laughing, and the world was continuing to spin on its axis, even if you were ass deep in blood, horror, and bullets? One man bleeds as another celebrates. Life was a double-edged sword, and what you saw and experienced depended on whether you were facing the razor edge of that blade.

* * *

After the live-fire scorching, everyone headed back the Amphibious Base. At BUD/S, Leaper stood outside the door with the other instructors. They were observing their trainees.

Leaper scratched his neck as he leaned against the wall outside the classroom where the men sat. He could hear their comments, even in their hushed tones. He didn’t recognize the voices, but they were definitely worked up. It was enlightening to listen to them.

“That was nothing like TV or the movies.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t cool or exciting.”

“It was disorienting. I was frozen. I couldn’t stop thinking about where the shots were coming from and how to deal with it.”

“I kept thinking, ‘Fuck! I’m fucking this up!’ My dad did this, and he’d want me to handle it differently than I did, but all I’m doing is fucking panicking.”

“It smelled hot. Does anyone else think that?”

“I didn’t know it would be like that…the air full of plaster, dust, gunpowder, and just freaking intense.”

“I’m embarrassed. I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to roll the whole class back.”

“Don’t fucking say that! You don’t want to give them any fucking suggestions. Got it!”

Leaper knew someone had to get into that classroom and ease these trainees back into the game before they started fighting one another out of pure nervous exhaustion.

Besides, if they completely lost faith in themselves, they’d have a hard time recovering for the next hurdle. He wanted them to stay or go on their own terms, not because the live-fire exercise went sideways from both the instructor’s and trainee’s points of view.

“Let’s get going. Who’s first up?” Leaper wanted to suggest they have a quick game of rock, paper, scissors—or, in SEAL terms, Ka-Bar, fin, mask—but this was an extremely grim lot. “So, they fucked up,” said Leaper softly, turning toward the other instructors next to him and breaking into the discussion. “What happened the first time you dealt with scorched earth?”

One of the instructors gave him a half smile, and the others frowned.

“I get it. My trainees panicked. Maybe they were worked up, or maybe they were not. This is all new. That’s why we practice, practice, practice. I’ll work with them, and they’ll either get it or ring out. That’s why I’m here as an instructor. In the meantime, none of your trainees were stellar either. In my opinion, we need to give them the mental and physical tools to work through the situation, rather than just dump them in and see how they do.” Leaper was frustrated with this group of instructors. It was the first time he’d been at BUD/S where he felt like most of the instructors were unprepared and unwilling to push themselves as hard as they were pushing the trainees.

In Leaper’s mind, everyone at BUD/S should give 200 percent or not bother showing up. If some of these instructors didn’t improve, hell, he’d talk to the Commanding Officer of BUD/S about it. Having his swim buddy as CO gave him an in. Besides, everyone should be open to feedback; it fostered improvement. Wasn’t that one of the powerful messages the Teams taught? The Team mandate was that all voices be heard, from enlisted to officer. All input is useful, and contingency plans are a must.

The other instructors gave a series of shrugs and nods.

Crap! Way to show enthusiasm.

Fine, thought Leaper. If these instructors are so constipated that they can’t get over a few rough patches, they’re never going to survive getting these recruits to the next phase.

“Okay, I’ll take one for the Teams. I’ll go in and talk first. Give me an hour, and then one of you can cycle in.” Leaper didn’t wait to see if they agreed. He put on his best tough-guy face and walked into the classroom.

The tension was so thick you could sail a kite, and Leaper wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of urine. Poor souls. I’ve been there.

Leaper was tall and he had no trouble reaching the latches for the small, high windows. When they were open, he walked slowly through the aisles between the desks, making his way to the front of the room. “You fucked up. All of you hit the skids and did a crap job. That happens! The first time I heard an authentic ‘in combat’ machine gun ripping into a wall inches from my head while I was on a mission, I shit my pants. I admit it. I didn’t trust my training at the time, and though I had made it through the entire BUD/S process, graduated, and gone off to save some soul in the middle of nowhere, I should have kept my mind on the task and not worried about the fucking noise. Because that’s what fear is. It’s noise—shit talk—that’s rattling around in your head and distracting you.”

Leaper looked at the trainees. “So when I finally got my head back on straight and focused on the mission, I learned two things in that moment: First, that MRE beef stew doesn’t agree with my digestive tract, and I shouldn’t wolf down a ton of heavy food before I need to be in action, because having the runs and puking is inconvenient during a rescue. On a personal note, I eat high-calorie bars to make it easier on me. Second, and this is the important lesson, awareness is the key to success.

“If you are afraid, emotion is blinding you. It is all you can taste, swallow, and piss. But if you are calm on the inside, then the world is alive with an incredible amount of information.” Leaper held out his hands. “Everyone take a deep breath. Hold it for a count of four. Exhale for a count of four. Inhale for a count of four. Let’s do this four times.” Leaper waited while the trainees followed his instructions, and the atmosphere of tension changed to one of incredible calm.

“My favorite instructor, Gich, used to call those alligator breaths. He talked about the need to operate in any kind of circumstance: rain, mud, lightning, bullets, mortar fire, torture, you name it. Being calm is your optimal choice. Make your brain your friend. The body will follow the mind and the mind will follow the body. Flow with it. And, if you think you can be become desensitized to everything, hell, that’ll take your whole life and it’s unrealistic. Instead, consider the idea that everything coming your way is a challenge to handle—nothing more or less. Live in that moment. Get to the next one, and then the next one, and deal only with what’s happening in your present. Stay in the now. Deal with what’s happening and then let it go and move on. Fear is a choice like any other emotion, but logic and awareness are some of the most useful tools of success.”

“For my next trick, I can teach you how to change fear into fuel.” Leaper heard a murmur of voices from the recruits. He caught a few words and phrases, including Rambo and looking like a coward.

Crap! These guys aren’t worried about the sound of live fire; they’re worried about their egos. Now that’s a shame! Here I am giving them pearls on how I handled my first real-time event, telling them how they can move through the trauma and stay aware and alive, and they don’t give a crap. Well, fuck! Do I have to remind them to be Clark Kent and not Superman? His anger pricked him, but Leaper ignored it.

“Raise your hand if you have an image in your head of what you need to be and how you need to act in order to make it through BUD/S.” Leaper tapped his foot, waiting. “Be honest.”

Slowly, every single man raised his hand. At least they were stepping up to the question. If they hadn’t answered honestly, Leaper had considered taking them outside to do two hundred burpees. Seeing trainees do these deep squat thrusts and rising quickly into a standing position made him happy. But the trainees avoided that fate…for now.

“Okay, okay. You can lower your hands.” Leaper waved his hand in front of his nose, indicating the amount of body odor released in the room with this many armpits open to the air.

“I’ll be honest with you,” Leaper continued. “This image of a SEAL or some kind of Hollywood version of a Spec Ops operative—from television, books, comics, cartoons, games, or whatever your entertainment of choice is—is a false expectation. This bullshit is designed to trip you up, to provide unrealistic hurdles. Let’s face it, kiddos, it’s something you think you need to be, this Hollywood hero. It’s a creation outside of reality, and it will not serve you. Let go of any and all expectations and choose reality.

“So…” Leaper began pacing back and forth at the front of the room. “Can you imagine if every time I wanted to kiss a woman, I needed to do twenty push-ups, six lip puckers, and turn in a circle four times? This is bullshit expectation—what you think needs to happen to make a goal—and it’s all a fantasy. Whatever your dad or your mom or social media said, fucking let it go!

“Enter this training process with a clean slate. Don’t dwell on yesterday’s memory, or what may come tomorrow. Be here. You need to be here and now. Get your shit together, be aware, and react. By leaving behind these mental distractions, there’ll be more room in your mind for action and response. Remember our adage: ‘The only easy day is yesterday.’ So today is brand-new, unknown, and waiting to be conquered.”

Leaper paused and tapped his temple. “Do societal expectations count when you’re holding a 9 mm a foot from a bad guy’s face? Are you thinking about being a big hero or getting out alive with your Team intact and the mission complete?” When there was no response, Leaper added, “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Yes, Instructor. Getting out alive.”

“Good.” Leaper nodded. “Any unfocused calisthenics of the mind are useless. Keep your mind as clear and razor sharp as your body. When you are holding that gun, it’s shoot or don’t. Are you going to pull the trigger, knock him out, don’t pull the trigger, or let him go? Fuck, you need to make a good decision. Which choice will keep you alive and your Team safe? Do you know the answer? Hell, you better! But none of that will happen unless you are awake, aware, calm, and present.”

Leaper rolled his fingers into fists. “Being part of a Team means letting go of the individual expectation of self; learning your physical, mental, and emotional limits and how to move past them; and in its place building an understanding of what you’re truly capable of, what your Teammate is capable of, and how to successfully complete your mission. Can you swap expectation for capability—dream for reality?”

“Aye, aye, Instructor,” the sailors in the room swiftly replied.

“Good. Let’s get to work. Clean slate.” Leaper nodded. There was enthusiasm in the eyes of the recruits again. He could see smiles, albeit somewhat reserved ones, on several faces, including those of his men. Good. These trainees were back, and they were eager to learn. “Tonight’s event was a fucking fiasco. The next time we have a Life Fire event, there will be improvement—warriors doing their fucking jobs.”

“Aye, aye, Instructor,” replied the trainees.

Next, Leaper gave them several pointers on how to improve their techniques and told them how he set the bar for himself. He challenged each of them to improve where they were weak and hone where they were strong, and then learn to maximize both actions. “Break it all down. SEALs use the ‘chunk it’ process. Make each action a reflex and commit it to muscle memory.

“Now,” Leaper continued, “an assignment for tomorrow. In your notebooks, write a list of each of your problem areas and where you excel. After that, you will know how to proceed. Being in Special Operations means constantly improving your reaction time, your capability, and your capacity for achievement. Got it?”

“Aye, aye,” the trainees said again.

Leaper’s eyes scanned the men in the room. “Before we move on to the next set of comments, I’m dismissing you for”—Leaper checked his watch; he had thirty-five minutes before the next instructor came in—“thirty minutes. Be back before then. Dismissed!”

The men filed quickly out of the room as Leaper continued to speak. “And may none of you experience the intense diaper rash I did. Seriously, I have scars.”

The men were gone before he could offer to drop his drawers. Not that he would have. Well, maybe. It had been a long day, and mooning someone might have been a hoot. Christ, he needed a breath of fresh air.

Oh, Leaper, you ole sweetheart. You might be making a decent impact on these lives. Knocking his fist against his chin, he murmured, “Aw, shucks.”

Yeah, he felt good. Now, this was a good way to kick off the live-fire chat. He hoped the other instructors stepped up and gave a few useful words too.

He wondered what Gich would think of him now, a trainee who became a SEAL who was teaching trainees now. Guess this was the circle of fucking life. Frogmen forever.

Whistling to himself—Hoyt Axton’s “Joy to the World,” a.k.a. “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog”—Leaper walked out of the classroom and onto the First Phase Grinder. He placed his feet on top of a pair of white-painted fins, a place where he had stood as a trainee and so many others had stood before him. He stared up at the sky, wondering what else the next few hours would bring. One moment at a time. Be present. Keep moving.

He continued whistling softly to himself as his eyes tracked a seagull circling above.

* * *

She paced around and around the living room. Waiting for a lover was nerve-racking. Kerry had cleaned and primped and checked the mirror about ten times before she began her nervous pace and now she was forcing herself to sit down. Her mother had once told her that eagerness in a lady is not a pleasant sight, and yet she couldn’t quell her natural exuberance.

Leaper had agreed to spend the night at Kerry’s condo, and she could barely contain her nerves. It wasn’t as grand as Leaper’s home, but the bare necessities worked for her. When the doorbell finally rang, she sprinted to the door and greeted him. She wore a form-fitting T-shirt, a lacy thong, and a smile. Screw it! She was happy to see him.

Making a show of leaning her arm slowly against the doorjamb for a sultry effect, she said, “Are you coming in, or are you going to spend the evening out there, staring at me?”

He gulped. “Let me lift my tongue off the ground and I’ll be right with you.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I’m like the wolf from one of those old cartoons—my eyes are popping out of my head, and my tongue is dragging along behind me. You’re the pinup doll that I’m drooling over.”

Heat climbed Kerry’s cheeks. “Leaper, I’m not even wearing lingerie.”

“You look good in everything, Kerry, and especially beautiful when you’re out of it.”

“That’s sweet. Thanks.” She took his hand and led him to the small patio. There were light rattan shades down on the sides, and though it was easy to see out, no one could see in. Pulling her T-shirt over her head, she said, “I have a few naughty fantasies. I’m going to play out a few of those tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“I’m yours. Do with me what you will, as long as it doesn’t involve needles or blood.” He sniffed childishly. “I get squeamish.”

“Really?”

“No, but I don’t need my recruits asking any weird questions about my wounds.” He winked at her. “Bite marks, on the other hand…I can handle those.”

“Cheeky,” she said slyly. “Are you hinting?”

“Come find out.”

She pushed him onto the lounge chair and climbed into his lap. After wrestling his shirt over his head, she ran her hands up and down his muscled torso and his thick biceps. She could see his pulse thudding in the side of his neck. “You like it when I touch you, don’t you?”

“Yes.” His eyes had a mischievous twinkle, and she liked it.

She unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down over his hips, wiggling them all the way off until he was naked on her lounger. She’d read somewhere that SEALs don’t wear underwear because of the fabric twisting and torquing their tender parts into painfully odd and sometimes dangerous angles. She was glad he was commando; it was a pleasing and titillating sight.

Kerry climbed back into his lap. His skin was warm against hers, and she wiggled her nether regions against his.

His hands caught her hips. “Kerry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a warning tone?”

“I want to be able to entertain you for a long time.”

She leaned in. “Maybe that’s not what I want. Maybe I want it hard and fast, so it takes my breath away and I…”

He caught her mouth, and she didn’t get to finish her sentence. His tongue pushed through her lips and pillaged her soft recesses. Then he lifted her, his fingers playing over her clit with delicate strokes that brought her breath in short pants of excitement. His touch brought her to the edge, and then he slowed. He did it again and then pulled back.

She broke the kiss. “Fuck me, Leaper.”

His cock pierced the softness of her sheath, filling her almost to bursting. The pleasure and pain line played back and forth until her body was shaking with mini climaxes. Just as she was about to climax, he lifted her and turned her around so she was facing away from him, and then he lowered her back onto his waiting cock.

Her back arched as she took him deeper, her body trying to hold him in one place. But he lifted her hips, setting a frustratingly slow rhythm. “Faster. Please, Leaper.”

She was hungry for him, but she could feel his smile as he kissed her shoulder and neck. “Watch outside. See what I see. Give in to the cool salty air, listen to the sound of people outside. Use your senses to feel every inch of my cock pulsing in and out of your body.”

Doing as he suggested, Kerry slowed her desperate want and her mind stretched, alive with additional sensation. She wanted to tease him too. Show him that turnabout was fair play.

Pushing her bottom back, she rotated her hips and heard him sigh. She did it again, changing the rules. This time she set the pace.

He took his hands from her hips, and she saw him grip the armrests on either side of the lounger. His fingers held tightly as his knuckles went white.

“Come with me,” she whispered as she gyrated on his cock, her fingernails lightly grazing the inside of his arms for added sensation.

“Kerry,” he ground out, his voice rough and jaw tense as he came.

The explosion of juices brought her to a huge climax. Her body shook and shuddered, milking him dry.

He wrapped his arms around her as if he planned to keep her there, perched on his cock.

She leaned her head back and said, “I suppose we both had our wicked way.”

“I can think of a few more ideas.”

“Do tell,” she said. “Curious minds want to know.”

“Thank goodness, satisfaction will always bring the cat back.”

* * *

The sun was still slumbering, but the happy couple was awake. Even after a full night of lovemaking, neither one of them wanted to sleep. They enjoyed each other’s company as they sipped coffee and gazed into the darkness.

“I’ve never been with someone who enjoyed long silences as much as talking,” admitted Leaper.

“Me either.” She tilted her head. “It’s companionable, like I can share all the silly stuff in my brain without criticism.”

“Yeah. Speaking of which, I’ve been mulling something over. Do you want to help me with a little unsanctioned plan?” asked Leaper as he drank deeply of the rich brew.

“Oh, this sounds good. Of course! Lay it on me.” She shifted her body toward him.

“In the early days of the program, it was customary for Frogmen—the predecessors of SEALS—and rescue swimmers to work with the Marine Mammal Program. I’m not sure when that all changed, but I can’t see what harm a simple exercise would do. Matter of fact, I’m hoping the programs will start working more closely together again. They had huge successes in their work.”

“Yeah, I’ve read about a few of the operations,” she said.

“Well, I know that demonstrations are done regularly at the Marine Mammal base for all sorts of groups, and we could consider it along the same lines, except you bring one of your dolphins to meet my trainees.”

She pondered the request, biting her lower lip, and then said, “My only rule is that it doesn’t endanger the mammals.”

“Agreed.”

“Great. I’ll ask one of the dolphin trainers if they have time to do a demonstration, something basic like Swimmer Invader. Can I text you with a time and place?” Kerry checked her watch. “Let’s keep this demonstration on the down low, being unsanctioned and all.”

“Yeah. I get it. I appreciate this. I know I’ve talked your ear off this morning about my trainees. They just need to see something else to push their dedication to the next level—they need more real-life experiences. Witnessing something like a dolphin capturing an invader would be useful. I can try out some of our new camera tech, too. It’s easy to drop over the side of the boat and film underwater.”

“We have something like that. It takes video and stills. We use it for training, like for athletes, so we can see where we need improvement.” Kerry took a sip of coffee. “If a dolphin doesn’t perform, it’s the trainer who takes the heat, not the mammal. So we repeat actions in certain orders over and over again.”

“Yeah, practicing,” said Leaper. “That’s a SEAL thing. You’ll hear that word associated with us a lot. It’s probably a holdover from when SEALs—well, Frogmen—ran the Marine Mammal Program. The owner of the guesthouse, the one I live in now, was a Frogman and part of the Marine Mammal Program when it was in Hawaii. If he and his missus weren’t on vacation in Japan, I’d introduce you. Maybe when they get back.”

“I’d like that.” Kerry added, “I think the program was over at Kaneohe Bay, Oahu, back then.”

“One of the places, ’cause I think they were all over the coastline, but that name sounds familiar.” Leaper stood and scratched his chin. “Sorry, I’m itchy. I need to shave at some point. The stubble fairy has visited me. Do you have an extra razor?”

“Medicine cabinet, top shelf. There’s shaving cream too, if you don’t mind smelling like coconuts.” She watched his muscles ripple as he stretched and moved. So sexy.

“I like coconuts. Remind me to tell you about the time I spent doing survival training on an island—what a blast. Coconut is delicious, but too much can do funny things to the body unless you add water into the mix. And, uh, thanks for helping me out with my guys. I’ve learned that veering away from the lesson plan can be useful at times. It can provide extraordinary insight for trainees.”

He leaned over and kissed her. His mouth was just inches from hers as he spoke. “Who would have ever dreamed that making plans is best when done naked?” Leaper gently nipped at her shoulder. “I’m done talking. What about you?”

She stroked his chin. “Oh, baby, I’m not. I still have a lot to say. Come here.”

“I’m itchy. My stubble will scratch you.”

“I can tough it out, if you can.”

He smiled and caught her lips and laid an intensely sexy kiss on her mouth. “Kerry, I like what you have to say.”

“We have to be quick. I want to get to work early and do rounds. I’m taking the afternoon—well, most of the day—off.”

He touched a button on his phone, and music filled the air. The Violent Femmes sang “Please Do Not Go.”

“Mmm, good song. That’s one of my favorites,” Kerry said. “Sweet hands, Leaper.”

“Mine too.” Leaper dropped the phone on the floor, and then he lifted her and took her back to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed, ignoring the blanket and sheets.

Kerry squealed as he pulled her underneath him, kissing and caressing his way down her body. As he reached the junction between her legs, she said, “I love where you are…staying…” Then she sang softly to him, “Please, please…” Too soon, the rest of the lyrics were lost as she sighed with pleasure and arched against him. Oh, Violent Femmes, you are amazing…

* * *

The sun was just barely over the horizon, but the bases on Coronado were already buzzing with activity. Cars filled the lanes and moved in long lines, pouring into parking lots as personnel hustled to their duty stations.

Leaper had gotten word from Kerry on his ride over that the dolphin demonstration was all set. He asked Declan for two hours of free time with his group for a special outing. Leaper had gotten an “I don’t know what you’re doing, but have fun,” and that was good enough for him. He didn’t want to put his buddy in a bad spot, so he’d fall on his sword if he had to. Not that it should be a big deal. The Marine Mammal Program did unofficial demonstrations off the Ferry Landing in Coronado all the time. As long as everyone kept it low-key, it would work out.

He’d woken his crew hours before their usual time, given them power bars and water, and loaded them into the boat. Leaper had contemplated Tang and Pop-Tarts, his favorite breakfast growing up, but the trainees were working muscles and burning calories like crazy, so he ventured down the protein-and-hydration path.

Leaper enjoyed being up before dawn, and life was even better if he could feel the spray of water in his face and taste the salt on his tongue. He could function on as little as four hours of sleep for several months. It wasn’t optimal, but he’d learned he could get by. If he was on a mission and had to doze, he woke himself up and put himself to sleep over and over again, staying tuned in to his environment.

New mothers often did it subconsciously, listening for their babies during the night. When he’d been stuck going to therapy, he’d read several psychology magazines on sleep cycles, including a great article about a single father who was raising a newborn. He would hear her from the other side of the house and be at her bedside before he was fully awake. This man also claimed to understand the type of cries his daughter made and whether she needed a diaper change, food, or comfort.

Leaper wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to distinguish such sounds. In his case, sounds meant potential enemy and discovery. If discovered by an enemy, it meant kill or be killed. The primal core of his nature tapped into this area easily after so many years of honing this skill set.

He sat in the boat with his trainees, waiting. He’d already pointed out several landmarks and shared water-based facts. If only he had a fishing pole, he could catch dinner. He really needed to get out in his boat and take advantage of the opportunity to fish before the season was over. What use was a license if he never used it?

His ears picked up the sound of a boat coming toward them.

The unofficial dolphin/invader event would take place in a small alcove on the far side of the Amphibious Base, on the Bay Side. To be specific, it was off the Discovery Bridge near the Silver Strand. The water was just deep enough to be useful, and it was beyond the boat and ship traffic.

“I’ve always wanted to swim with the dolphins,” said Captain Kirk.

“Not that type of event. It’s a watch and learn,” advised Leaper. “If you want to swim gleefully with dolphins as part of a program, visit SeaWorld. In the wild, dolphins are very unpredictable, as I mentioned before. The bottlenose dolphin we’ll meet today will be somewhere in between these two extremes of captivity and wild, because the Marine Mammal dolphins function and work in the wild, but they live in a safe environment where they’re cared for by human beings. There’s a distinct difference, and we need to follow the rules, so hands in the boat.”

“I want to pet one,” added Watson.

“What did I just say? Do you think this is a freaking petting zoo? Eyes only.” Leaper shook his head. Had these guys not had coffee? Or perhaps they forgot to bring their ears to this event.

The Marine Mammal boat rounded the corner. Finally, they had arrived.

His trainees rocked the boat in their eagerness to see the dolphin. Several attempted to stand, and Leaper knocked their feet out from under them. “The next person who stands will be sent into the drink for a morning dip. Chill out.”

Leaper looked over at the Marine Mammal boat. Kerry met his gaze and smiled at him.

He nodded back. After five minutes of waiting, he signaled to her with palms facing up and hands spread to the side, the universal “What’s up?”

She shrugged.

Leaper checked his watch. He needed to get the recruits back to the Amphibious Base within the allotted time frame. A short field trip was fun, but there was still an afternoon schedule in place for his trainees that must be adhered to.

He waved at Kerry and tapped his watch.

She nodded. She got his signal now.

He saw her speaking with a tall, muscular, balding guy. Leaper might have been jealous, but with the wedding ring on the guy’s hand and the way she kept glancing across the water, it was obvious who she liked—Leaper.

Leaper was too close to the Amphibious Base’s Officer Country to shout. He knew training wasn’t Kerry’s area of expertise. The dolphin trainers were in charge. He noticed from their body language that there was one trainer bossing around two helpers, and Kerry was off to the side observing. She was possibly higher up on the food chain at the Marine Mammal Program, as the trainer appeared to defer to her now and then.

Taking his cell phone from his pocket, Leaper put it in a dry-sack and stored it in a locked toolbox. Then he pulled his shirt over his head and dove into the water.

He swam to the Marine Mammal boat and pulled himself aboard. “Can I be of assistance?” He extended his hand to the balding man. “Leaper Lefton.”

The man grabbed it and held tight for a few seconds. “Duckie Summers. Sorry for the delay. We were supposed to have a combat swimmer, but he hasn’t shown. Must be some kind of emergency. He’s usually very reliable. Do you want to reschedule for tomorrow?”

Leaper’s lips thinned. “Today was the only day we had some flexibility. Can I be the swimmer?”

“You need a tank. There’s a weight with the strobe-light clamp, and we, uh, don’t want you to drown.” Duckie picked up the device and showed Leaper how it worked.

“I’m a combat diver and I free dive. I can hold my breath for a very long time,” Leaper said. He knew he could do it. The water wasn’t that deep off the coast of the Discovery Bridge near the Silver Strand. Hell, he could swim to the Base Commander’s house from here. “Give me a shot.”

Kerry added. “I can vouch for him. We swam together. Besides, he’s a SEAL and a very strong swimmer.” She tucked strands of hair into her ball cap. “C’mon, Duckie, if Leaper says he can do something, I trust him.”

“Don’t get litigious on me if this goes butts up,” said Duckie. “I still think you need a tank, because this device normally attaches to a tank.”

“Understood.” Leaper nodded. “So, let’s pretend I have one. How does this work? Can you explain the process? What do I do—just swim under the boat and the dolphin will put the contraption on me?”

“Yes, that’s about it. Though I’ll reiterate, this device has a strobe light, and I’ll attach the lead so we can grab you if there’s a problem. So here’s the breakdown of steps: the dolphin bumps the diver, releasing the device so it will clamp onto the diver’s tank. The strobe lights up, and we send combat swimmers to fetch the enemy. The lead is short so it doesn’t get snagged easily, but if there’s an issue, someone can dive in and grab it—just another way to provide a safety measure.”

“Okay. Can we do this demonstration under my boat, so my trainees can see with my cameras?” asked Leaper, pointing over his shoulder.

“Sure. Why not?” Duckie pointed to the two assistants, who opened the side panel on the boat and encouraged the dolphin to slide into the water. “I’ll wave at you when we’re ready to begin.”

“Great. Give me five minutes to prep.” Leaper swam back to the boat and briefed the trainees on how to use the cameras. He watched them drop the cameras properly into the water so nothing got tangled in the mounts, and then he gave them an idea of what was going to happen. “My one request is that all of you stay in the boat, no matter what. Understood?”

“Aye, aye,” they replied.

“Look, the dolphin’s in the water,” said Watson. “Too cool.”

“Right. Nothing can go wrong here,” murmured Leaper as he got back in the water and swam a few feet away. He turned back to the Marine Mammal boat and gave them the thumbs-up.

Duckie waved.

Blowing air out of his lungs in short bursts and repeating it several times, Leaper then took a slow, deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity. He dove under the boat, hamming it up on the underwater camera. He pretended to be sabotaging the prop when something hard and heavy clamped onto his ankle. It felt like a vise.

His reflex made him kick out, and the impact landed on the dolphin’s body.

The bottlenose turned quickly and lightly bumped his snout into Leaper’s abdominal. Half of Leaper’s air whooshed out. Dolphins give equal or stronger force to meet whatever is given to them, he thought as he looked around for the dolphin. He didn’t want to get blindsided again, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to respond.

Clamping his mouth shut, he held tight to the rest of his air as the dolphin pulled on the lead attached to the mount. Something was wrong. Dolphins were not supposed to directly engage the enemy. The dolphins’ main jobs were to identify enemy divers, tell their trainers or handlers, and point out sea mines.

Leaper was still one moment, on the move in the next. The dolphin was taking him for a ride.

He flailed his arms, trying to reach the mount. Leaper didn’t make it as the dolphin pulled him swiftly away from his boat and toward the Marine Mammal boat—and if they went farther, into the direction of the open shipping lanes. He was fucked if he made it all the way out there.

All hell broke loose as recruits dove into the water. When Leaper looked over his shoulder, he could see them. The water was clear, and their activity attracted the dolphin’s attention. It circled back to the trainees, dragging him along.

Dumbasses! They’d done the one thing he didn’t want them to do—dive in—and this was the dolphin’s environment. She had the upper hand, and several of the recruits belatedly realized that as it knocked them around with her powerful snout and tail. Several trainees gave up and paddled for shore, while others attempted to get into the boat, which the dolphin had conveniently flipped over.

Soon, those still in the water swam aimlessly about as the dolphin circled and played with them.

Fuck! At least the dolphin had abandoned him. Leaper managed to release the strobe-light mount.

Perhaps he was too quick to celebrate as he watched more of the dolphin fiasco along with the Base Commander and his wife, who both stood on the grass in their backyard, pointing at them. He could hear their shouts of concern, and for a brief second, Leaper wished he had drowned.

The Marine Mammal boat pulled up behind him.

“The lead didn’t work. The dolphin liked it too much,” Leaper choked out as he looked over at Kerry and saw that she had covered her eyes with her hand.

“What a bust!” She was shaking her head with a look of tense frustration. “I don’t know what happened.”

Maneuvers gone wrong splashed across his brain in neon letters. So much for unsanctioned events! Leaper doubted they would ever get permission to train together again.

He handed the mount to Kerry.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Sure,” he said flatly. “Thanks for trying. I have to handle…all this.”

She nodded, and then the Marine Mammal boat took off. The trainer signaled for the dolphin, who eagerly responded and loaded onto the boat.

Leaper watched the Marine Mammal group depart and then swam back to the trainee boat, flipped it, and hauled himself on board. Then he picked up those recruits still in the water and steered the boat toward the shore to get the rest of his group.

“We never leave anyone behind,” he grumbled to himself as he lifted and secured the prop engine and then beached the boat on the lawn of the Base Commander’s home. This was Officer Country and an Admiral’s home. His trainees had made the worst choice ever, to aim for this place as a landing zone. They literally had signs posted outside the area warning individuals not to enter unless their reasons directly related to something of personal or vital importance to the officer residents and their families.

Putting his feet firmly on this hallowed dry land, Leaper gave the trainees in the boat a stern look to stay and then made his way up the perfectly manicured lawn, where several of his trainees were already gathered. These guys were actually wrapped in towels, drinking lemonade and eating cookies too. He was so frustrated, he couldn’t stop the litany of swear words in his head long enough to choose just one.

At least it looked like the trainees had the good sense to stay silent as the Base Commander’s wife plied them with treats. She was definitely one classy lady, but the Commander was striding toward Leaper with a furrowed brow and a deep frown and was undoubtedly going to give him an earful—or worse, a formal reprimand. Who could blame him? Who wanted a bunch of fumbling trainees, young men drenched to the bone and lapping up groceries like a pack of hungry dogs, standing on his back lawn, especially in front of his wife?

What a goat fuck!

Think fast, Leaper told himself. Think very, very fast.