Hot SEAL Roman Nights (SEALS In Paradise) Read online

  Hot SEAL, Roman Nights

  A SEALs in Paradise Novel

  TERESA J. REASOR

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  HOT SEAL, ROMAN NIGHTS

  A SEALS IN PARADISE NOVEL

  COPYRIGHT © 2019 by Teresa J. Reasor

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by ELLE JAMES

  Edited by Faith Freewoman

  Teresa J. Reasor

  PO Box 124

  Corbin, KY 40702

  Publishing History: First Edition 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-940047-29-4

  ISBN-10: 1-940047-29-3

  Kindle Edition

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT TERESA REASOR

  CHAPTER 1

  The two of them came upon the burned-out, bombed-out houses just as the setting sun skimmed the horizon. A hand, black and stiff, reached out of the rubble like a cry for help. Tony could tell, just from looking at it, that the person attached was dead.

  A baby’s cry, plaintive, weak and pitiful, reached them from the other side of the structure. “Need to check that out, Justus.” He didn’t give his teammate time to reply before jogging around the rubble.

  The baby lay upon the hard-packed ground, its tiny hands spread wide in supplication. The delicate blood vessels in its head and cheeks looked dark beneath skin as transparent as tissue paper.

  “Don’t touch it, Nitro. It’s dying. Its mother’s already dead.”

  He understood why Justus called the child an it. He was distancing himself. But as a medic, Tony didn’t have that option. “We can’t just leave it. We have to take it to a hospital, leave it on someone’s doorstep, something.” The sun was sinking in the distance, taking the warmth with it. If they left the infant, the cold might kill it before animals came foraging.

  Justus glanced at the dive watch on his wide wrist. “This isn’t part of our orders. It will slow us down.”

  And its crying would draw attention to them. Tony’d be endangering his teammates’ lives by trying to save this baby.

  It gave a small helpless mewl again. “If we walk away, we’re as immoral as the assholes who bombed these peoples’ homes. It’s a fucking miracle the infant was thrown clear.” He bent and picked it up. The cloth wrapped around it was stiff with dried urine as he unwound it. It was a boy. Tony brushed away the ants scampering all over the tiny body. The poor thing’s arms and legs were speckled with bites, and he was hot to the touch.

  There were people dying of cholera in the poor parts of the city. Besides losing his parents to a firebomb, could he also be sick? There was no sign of diarrhea.

  “Let me see if I can get a line started. He’s dehydrated, and probably weak from hunger.” He shucked his pack.

  “Hold up, Nitro.” Justus grabbed his arm. “What if we need that saline for one of us?”

  Heat stormed Tony’s face, but one look at his teammate’s expression had him biting back his retort. Justus was thinking of the mission, as Tony should be, even though he was just as moved by the baby’s plight.

  Tony made the decision. “He can have my share.” He worked quickly to set up a line. The only blood vessel he could find was in the baby’s head.

  “Jesus,” Justus murmured as he watched him work.

  “We have to find someone to take him in before we double back to the team.” He scanned the area. Bombed, shrapnel-scarred rubble was all he saw for blocks. The smell of decomp lingered in the air and settled in the back of his throat, making it hard for him to swallow.

  A baby’s cry came loud and clear. Something jostled his shoulder and he frowned. He looked down at the infant in his arms. It was gone. He reared up to look for it and saw the back of a man’s head. He looked beyond that to another, and another. Reality slapped him awake as well as the light turbulence that lifted, then briefly dropped the plane. Not a bounce, but a gentle bob.

  A woman sitting across the aisle struggled out of her seat to take her son, a child of about three, to the restroom. In a sling against her body a baby mewled, its cries echoing the infant in his dream.

  Even knowing what triggered the dream, it took a minute for Tony’s feelings to level out. The deployment to Yemen twelve months before had been a tough one. They’d all seen sickness and bloodshed, hunger and death. But the dead, dying, and traumatized children were the real heartbreakers.

  His recent recovery mission to the same region to rescue a Green Beret was a piece of cake in comparison.

  Seeing his family would distract him and give him something positive to focus on. They’d smooth out the sharp edges, and he’d be ready to do the family tourist thing. He needed to hang with normal people and remember there was a world beyond training and missions.

  He rubbed his beard-stubbled jaw and tilted his head from side to side, trying to ease the tension in his neck. After seven and a half hours on the plane in coach, the only available seat, he was ready to get out of this tin can and stretch his legs. He wandered to the restroom and glanced through the open curtain to the cabin ahead.

  His eyes snagged on the profile of a woman sitting in an aisle seat who was talking to someone across from her. Her dark hair swung forward, partially covering her cheek and chin. There was something familiar…

  Shock echoed through him. It couldn’t be… Darcy?

  The restroom door opened, and the three-year-old bolted out like a thoroughbred at the starting gate, tripped on a piece of rubber edging designed to hold the carpeting down, and hit one of the armrests headfirst.

  His wail of pain was loud enough to make every person in coach jerk to attention.

  “Michel!” His mother, hampered by the baby, bent to grab his arm, her voice sharp with concern as she asked in Italian if he was okay.

  “Permettimi di assistere, signora.” Tony leaned down to lift the boy, and, startled at having a stranger pick him up, the kid’s screams stopped. Tony murmured reassurances to the boy in Italian and brushed back his dark hair to discover a bump already popping out.

  The flight attendant appeared at his side. Tony nodded to her. “He tripped and hit the armrest. An icepack might help.”

  “We’ll be landing in about thirty-five minutes and can have him checked out by the airport medical staff, but in the meantime I’ll get a cold pack.”

  Tony explained that the flight attendant would return in a moment and gestured toward their seats. Mother and baby sat down, and Tony put the three-year-old in the seat next to the aisle. Taking out his keychain penlight, he checked the reactivity of the child’s pupils. They seemed fine. The child sniffled and curled against his mother’s side, shy about having a stranger so close. Tony explained to the mother that medical personnel would check her son out once they landed, but he believed he should be fine.

&nbs
p; The flight attendant returned with a gel cold pack, and Tony showed the kid how to hold it to his bump, which was now swelling to about the size of a walnut.

  “I appreciate your help.” The flight attendant flashed him a very white smile. “The seat belt sign just went on. We’re heading into some turbulence, and we’ll be getting ready to land, so you need to take your seat.”

  Damn it. He wouldn’t have time to check and see if the dark-haired woman was Darcy or not. He’d have to hurry exiting the plane so he could possibly catch her while they were checked through customs.

  Tony fastened the child’s seat belt, then wedged himself back into his own seat. As soon as the plane landed, he’d hit the head and find the woman.

  Darcy braced her hands on the armrests as the plane landed while the jolt of the tires hitting the runway and the sudden tug of the brakes jerked her forward and back. Everyone clapped as they slowed, and the pilot addressed them over the cabin speaker. “Welcome to beautiful Rome, ladies and gentlemen. The skies are clear, and the temperature is eighty-three degrees Fahrenheit, twenty-three degrees Celsius. Have a nice visit, and to those of you who are returning from America, welcome home.” He repeated the message in Italian like a native speaker.

  It took several minutes for everyone to gather their carry-on luggage. Her legs felt stiff and uncooperative as she joined the crush and stepped out into the aisle. Thank goodness the lines through customs looked manageable, since there was more than one border agent.

  She fell in behind two women and contented herself with looking around the Leonardo da Vinci Airport. She’d seen pictures, but they didn’t convey the size or the busyness of the place. She heard four different languages in as many feet, and she didn’t speak any of them. While she was arranging all those virtual trips for Chandler, she should have studied a language.

  “Il passaporto, per favore.” The Italian customs agent beckoned her forward.

  Understanding “passport” and “please,” Darcy placed the document on the counter in front of him.

  “Motiva della visita?”

  “Motiva” meant reason, and “visita” meant visit. “I’m here to participate in a wedding.”

  “Per quanto tempo si ferma?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “How long will you be staying?” he asked, in perfect but accented English.

  “A week.”

  He stamped her passport and handed it back to her. “Have a good visit, and welcome to Rome.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  A rush of anxiety hit her as she wandered toward signs directing her to the baggage reclaim area. She was in a foreign country. Alone. She hoped Leslie had sent someone to pick her up, but if not she had enough Euros to pay for the taxi ride to the hotel.

  Though it was heavy, she dragged her large suitcase off the carousel and turned to search for one of the overhead directional signs.

  Her heart stuttered, then leapt as she caught sight of the man coming toward her. His dark hair, brushed back off his forehead, was just as thick as it had ever been. The shadow of beard that darkened the lower half of his face underlined the more mature masculinity of his features. He looked taller, broader through the shoulders and chest, more muscular. Of course he would. He was no longer eighteen, but twenty-eight, and had spent ten years as a Navy SEAL.

  Her legs went weak even as she was striding to meet him. They were but a few feet apart when a child rushed between them and attached himself to Tony’s leg like a little monkey, and Tony tripped. Darcy was already leaping forward as he twisted to keep from falling on the tyke. They collided, and she went down, her arms and shoulder cushioning his fall.

  “Michel!” A woman rushed to them. “Oh, Dio.” A rapid stream of Italian rained down on them, the tone apologetic. She reached for the child and tugged him to his feet. The little rascal was laughing with delight.

  Tony waved a hand. He looked up at Darcy, his head still cushioned on her shoulder but his cheek rested on her breast, and every inch of her went liquid. “Are you okay, Darcy?”

  “Yes. I think so.” In truth she was probably going to have a bruise on her hip, but it would heal, and it was a small price to pay if it saved Tony a head injury.

  “Michel will one day be a famous rugby player,” Tony murmured, then reassured his mother they were fine with, “Noi stiamo bene, signora,” as he sat up. He rolled his shoulders, got to his feet, then offered Darcy a hand up.

  Two airport employees hurried over to them, inquiring about injuries.

  Tony’s eyes zeroed in on her once more, and his hand ran down her arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Her hip ached a little, but just holding hands with him was enough to distract her from it. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Michel wished to say grazie,” the mother said in halting English.

  Michel’s mother’s expression was half exasperation, half concern, but she continued to offer her apologies. She pointed at Michel, and the boy stepped forward to apologize and give Tony a hug.

  When the small family finally continued on its way, he said, “She needs some kind of safety harness on him. The kid’s a wild child. And how will she get her luggage and haul it to the train or a cab while holding onto him and the baby?”

  Acutely aware that he was still holding her hand she said, “It looks like she’s getting help.” An airport employee appeared pushing a stroller with two seats, and while the mother strapped Michel and the baby in, the employee collected her luggage.

  When Tony turned to look at her it was like a blow to her heart. His gray eyes delved deep and made her stomach jitter, and she gripped the handle of her suitcase to steady herself.

  “Thanks for covering my six. You hit the floor pretty hard. You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

  “I promise I’m not.” Just looking into his face brought everything back. A bruise was a small price to pay compared to that.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I’m here for a wedding.”

  His eyes narrowed and he released her hand. “You’re getting married?”

  “No. My best friend from college is marrying an Italian businessman and will be moving here permanently.” She shifted her purse against her hip. “What are you doing here?”

  “Family vacation with the folks. It’s my mom and dad’s thirty-fifth anniversary, and everyone’s here to visit Nonna and celebrate.”

  She remembered Tony’s grandmother. She’d been visiting when Darcy’s life went to hell. “How is she doing? She must be in her late seventies now.”

  “She’s doing fine. Still feisty. I haven’t seen her in person for nearly three years, but Mom keeps me posted, and I FaceTime with Nonna for her birthday, Christmas, that kind of thing. After I get my bag, let’s walk down to the main entrance. Mom and Dad are sending a car for me.” He strode to the luggage carousel and retrieved his suitcase.

  He seemed to know where they were going as they strolled down the wide aisle. To keep from staring at him as she wanted to do, she studied the interlocked triangular structures above that held the roof. The entire building was an interesting mishmash of different architectural designs and seemed to stretch on forever.

  “Are you still in the Navy?”

  “Yeah. I put in for this leave almost six months ago and still almost missed it.”

  “But you didn’t, and I’m sure your family will be thrilled to see you.”

  “And you,” he added.

  Just looking at him brought to life the loss she suffered after he left. A loss that had been partially numbed by time, but now the ache had been jolted alive again.

  “You’ll make some time to see them? Mom said she stopped hearing from you once you moved away.”

  She bit her lip. She had no choice back then. It had been too painful to continue communicating with them after breaking things off with Tony, and she couldn’t expect them to split their loyalties between their son and his ex-girlfriend.
“I don’t know what Roberto’s family has planned, Tony, but I’ll try.”

  “Where are you staying? I’ll drop you off where ever you need to go.”

  “I’m staying at the Starhotels Michelangelo, near the Vatican.”

  He grinned. “So are we.”

  Fate was either playing a joke on her by putting them in such close proximity, or rubbing her face in it.

  CHAPTER 2

  Tony grinned as the driver whipped through a space between two cars so small the guy must have slathered Vaseline on his paint job to squeak through. Talk about defensive driving. He turned to find Darcy white-knuckling the seat between them, her eyes shut tight.

  The urge to kiss her was almost uncontrollable, but instead he placed his hand over hers and felt the gradual release of some of her tension. He hadn’t forgotten how they were together, like two interlocking pieces of a puzzle. When she broke things off, he’d been stunned, angry, hurt. But at least she waited until he finished his BUD/S training.

  She’d changed, drastically. She was more reserved, more self-contained than before. Which only made him wonder what was bubbling beneath the surface. She couldn’t have squeezed all that energy down to fit inside her slender body. So where had it gone?

  But he supposed he’d changed too. He used to look at the world as an adventure, but violence he’d been exposed to changed his outlook into something more cautious and cynical. And his professional training taught him control, a look before you leap approach, and the importance of planning.

  But nothing had changed about his physical reaction to her. He read a momentary surprise and pleasure in her expression when she saw him. But then she shut down. Why?

  She’d been the one to dump him. And she’d never given him a clear reason. Only that their long-distance relationship wasn’t working. Had she found someone else? If she had, it obviously didn’t last.

  But now they’d have time to talk, to get reacquainted. Maybe.

  The driver came to a stop in front of the hotel. Darcy’s eyes popped wide open and settled immediately on their driver. “I’m amazed we’re in one piece. How do you say crazy SOB in Italian?”