Page 26 of Ground Zero

He glances back at the dinner show but doesn’t say anything about the girl, Lizzy, so I assume she didn’t pan out.

When we step in the elevator, I immediately begin his job interview, just shooting the shit with him. “So, where are you stationed?”

“Virginia Beach.”

When we step off, I introduce Brody to Damien as Badass and inform him, he earned that name in bars, not as a SEAL on the battlefield.

The smirk on Damien’s face makes us both laugh, so I give my bouncer a little of our history. “I met Brody in a bar fight and told him if he was such a badass, he should go prove it by becoming a Navy SEAL.”

“Let me guess,” Damien says, “You two were the ones fighting.”

Brody smiles. “Affirmative.”

“Well, who won?”

We answer at the same time. “Hooyah.”

Damien laughs and shakes his hand. “I got your back, but let’s not live up to that reputation tonight.”

Brody laughs, “As long as I’m not provoked, everyone will leave with their teeth intact.”

As we make our way to the VIP area, several people shout my name, and I throw my hand up in acknowledgment. When we arrive at my booth, Amanda is already waiting on us. She asks Brody, “What will you have, cutie?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs. “Bud in a bottle.”

“You sure you don’t want a frosted mug?”

He laughs again, “Nope. If a fight breaks out, I’ll have a weapon.”

She looks him up and down appreciatively, and I think Brody just might get lucky tonight anyway. She teases him. “I should have known you were a SEAL. Coming right up.” Then she spins around and walks off.

He leans over to me and grins, “Before I start entertaining you with war stories, what have you been up to?”

“Nothing good, but that’s about to change.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Amanda returns with a bucket of beer, and I pull two from the ice but have to wait before I slide one to Brody. His eyes are focused on something or someone else. I follow his line of sight, but nothing is obvious.

When he looks back, I slide the bottle to him. We twist the tops off, and I raise mine in salute. “First, a toast to your acceptance into the elite of the elite. Hooyah!”

“Hooyah!”

We drain our beers, racing to finish first, and slam the empty bottle down onto the table at the same time.

I laugh. “Either I’m getting slower, or you’re getting better.” I slide round two to him as I start my sales pitch. “I wanted to speak to you about a special project I’ve been working on. It seems there is a need right here at home for our skills.”

“Really?” He leans in, listening, but his eyes are searching the dance floor for someone. It is probably Lizzy, the girl he wanted the room next to. SEALs are not quitters, and if he wants her, he won’t stop until he has her.

I decide not to tell him about Bethany’s rescue. He isn’t married and doesn’t have children, so the emotional impact will not be as potent as sharing the business vision with him and giving him a viable option.

“A few months ago, I was approached by a family whose son and his girlfriend had been taken hostage while on a mission trip. Long story short, they hired me to put together an extraction team. We went in, did a snatch and grab, and brought them both home safely. Word has spread, and I’ve had multiple missions requested, so I’m putting together a team of special operators.”

He rocks back in his seat. “And you were going to ask me to join you?”

“Affirmative.” I open two more beers and push him one of them. “But if you’re going to become an officer, you’ll have to tack on more years and another tour.” I leave the implication hanging that he will be missing out on something great.

He mulls over what I’ve said, then tips the beer up, drains it, and says, “It will, but I like options. Tell me more.”

---