A SEAL at Heart Read Free Page B

mission. Even though there were a couple strikes against it. First, Tucker kept getting changing Intel on the location and how it was laid out. Second, the resources seemed underkill for a plan of this magnitude, and whenever I brought it up, they told me to add as much as we needed. So I did, but it never felt like enough. Third, when we got there, nothing was as discussed; the place was a ghost town outside with only a few people inside. Either the information was terrible, or—”
    “You were being set up. Seems unlikely, in the Teams,” said Gich, softly leaning forward. “What happened next?”
    Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. I can see my feet hitting the dirt and watching everyone take position, and then… nothing.”
    Gich took the cigar from his mouth. “Did you see Don die?”
    “I must have…” Pain ripped through his heart as he pushed hard to make it go away. “But I don’t remember any of it. What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m beached like a whale until I can remember, and it’s ripping me apart to be this still. I need help.”
    “You need to get out, have some fun. Don’t think. Just react and let go of everything.” Gich surveyed him with a critical eye before turning his gaze back to watch the shapely blond go through her routine of serving drinks and taking orders. “The watched pot never boils, or in our case, the undrunk beer only gets warm and flat.”
    Jack gave a half smile. “I’m not really in the mood for socializing.”
    “Come on, you’d have to be dead not to appreciate that,” Gich said, motioning toward the waitress.
    He had to admit the bending and reaching of the busty waitress was rather compelling, but he had more important stuff on his mind and couldn’t even consider flirting right now. Shifting in his chair, he found a more comfortable position and said, “What I want to know is how do I… get my warrior mentality back?”
    Those words captured Gich’s attention as his eyes locked on Jack’s. The lesson of finding his equilibrium and balance had been the hardest trick for Jack to learn. Gich had worked doubly hard with him on that one. They’d developed all sorts of techniques to help him out, but right now, Jack felt like his skin was crawling off his body and he had to nail himself to a chair to keep still. Did other SEALs feel like an alien in a human body?
    With a deliberate and slow movement, Gich brought his hand up and rested it gently on Jack’s arm. But no matter how slowly he’d moved, Jack still flinched and had an urge to pull away. Forcing himself to be still took some concentration.
    “Give it time. PTSD happens. Ride it out.” Gich leaned forward and whispered, “And while you’re waiting, go get your whiskers wet and your dick licked. You’re a fucking hero; you should take advantage of it.” He pulled back his hand, grabbed the neck of his beer, and chugged it down. When it was empty, he waved it in the air. “Tonight, Dick’s Last Resort. There are all sorts of SEAL fans there. I’m sure the Naval Special Warfare fund-raiser crowd would benefit from laying eyeballs on you, too. Why not go get your pick of the, uh, ladies? Tour some sweet spots and give your brain some time off.”
    The idea of being surrounded by that many people made Jack’s stomach clench, but he knew Gich was right. He had to get back out there. Going from the Op to the hospital, and now home, had not afforded him the opportunity to decompress, let alone figure out how to socialize with anyone of the fairer sex.
    Maybe getting hot and heavy would help. He could love ’em and leave ’em as easily as the rest of them, though it seriously had been a while. Love just wasn’t a priority the majority of the time, though sex was almost always welcome.
    When Don had been alive—God, those words stuck in his throat—it had been easier to go out for a night on the town. His buddy, though married, was a perfect wingman. He would