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Jake smiles broadly and then pulls a disgusted face. “I’m completely serious! Kids are terrifying!”
“But you track down terrorists and willingly go into war zones!” I cry, unable to stop laughing. “How can little kids be scarier than that?”
“All those sticky fingers, runny noses, and awkward questions? No fucking way am I going anywhere near that. Give me a military coup in the Middle East any day of the week.”
All of a sudden a really evil idea pops into my head. “I bet I can prove to you that little kids are awesome, and you’re just being a big old scaredy cat.”
Jake squints his eyes at me and then shakes his head. “No way you can prove that, but let’s hear this big idea, Bug.” Yet again he uses my nickname, and my heart kicks back against my ribcage, and my mouth goes a little dry.
“This week we’re learning about people who help us so I would love for you to come in and talk to the kids about being in the Navy,” I say, trying hard to hide the smirk on my face when Jake’s mouth falls open, and he immediately shakes his head.
“No fucking way!” he laughs, holding up his hands in protest. “See? Look at the way I speak—can you imagine if I dropped an F-bomb in front of them? And what if they ask me about classified stuff? What am I supposed to say?”
I’m in hysterics at the way Jake’s spiraling at the prospect of talking to my kids. As the tears stream down my cheeks, I laugh even harder at the indignant look on his face and the way he’s crossed his thick arms across his chest.
I finally get myself under control and wipe my cheeks dry with my fingers. “Jesus, Jake, they’re hardly going to ask you about the U.S. exit strategy from the Middle East. They’ll just wanna know about the ships and your uniform and stuff. Don’t be such a wuss.”
I know the minute I’ve won this battle. The best way to get Jake to do anything is to call him chicken, Pete taught me that. Jake’s jaw clenches, and his hands ball into fists, but he won’t back down.
“Fine,” he growls. “What day and time? I’ll be there.”
I bite my lip and try to hide my triumphant smile. “Wednesday at ten,” I say, and then I point my finger into his chest. “And no swearing or guns!”
That causes Jake to laugh gruffly and roll his eyes. “I’ll make sure I leave my rifles at home.”
As we walk back toward the stairs I tell Jake more about my kids and what he can expect when he comes to talk to them. And I don’t miss the fact that by the time we reach the house, he looks absolutely terrified.
Chapter 7
Jake
I’ve been to some of the most dangerous and hostile places in the world, filled with IEDs, hidden insurgents and crazy dictators. But nothing has made my pulse race and my palms sweat like the prospect of entering my old elementary school.
It doesn’t look anything like I remember. The old building that used to house our classrooms has long since been demolished, and a modern, shiny building has replaced it. From the parking lot, I can see a huge sports field and a lot of outdoor space filled with colorful equipment and jungle gyms.
However, as inviting as it looks, I can’t seem to get out of my truck. I thought showing up on my motorcycle might give the wrong impression, so I fired up my trusty old Dodge instead. I made sure to clean up the interior and put down a blanket to keep my dress whites free from grime. I called in a huge favor getting my uniform shipped here overnight from Coronado, and if I get it dirty, there’ll be hell to pay.
“Get a fucking grip!” I grumble under my breath, squeezing the steering wheel. Why did I let Livi bait me into doing this? “Because you feel guilty, you asshole. That’s why.”
This is ridiculous. I’m a highly trained operative, skilled in hand-to-hand combat, aquatics, cyber security, and firearms. Twenty-five little kids should not make me sweat like this.
I check my diver’s watch and breathe a sigh of relief to see that I’ve still got fifteen minutes to pull my head out of my ass and prepare to face the enemy.
I’m just checking the gear in my backpack when my cell phone rings, and I see Des’s name flash up on the screen. Excellent, perhaps he’ll have some last minute advice to help me through this mission.
“What’s up, man?” I ask, putting the phone on the dash so I can see him when his face fills the screen.
“Hey Jake,” he replies. “Just checking in to make sure you made it home and didn’t end up in Canada.” He chuckles to himself.
“Yes I made it home, wise ass. Did you?” I growl, fed up with my fellow sniper’s smart comments.
“Sure did. It’s very good to be home.”
“You’re disgustingly cheerful,” I grumble. “You finally get laid?”
Des looks a little sheepish, and I think I’ve hit a nerve.
But before I can interrogate him about what he’s been up to on leave, he squints his eyes and comes closer to the screen. “Why the fuck are in your dress whites? Did leave end early? Have I missed something?”
