Page 57 of The Playboy SEAL
I have to switch it off. It’s all information I know, and hearing it twice gives me the equivalent of rage goose bumps. I swerve in and out of traffic, and cars are stopped, lining the highway. They’re either afraid to continue or they’re so absorbed in the news anchor’s words they can’t focus on driving as well. It makes for a trip longer than it should be.
When I finally pull into the parking lot, my satellitephone rings on my passenger seat. Thank God for technology. I answer with a swift, “Newstead,” and listen to Moose rattle on about our plans. He’s calling me from his car and tells me that Smith’s girlfriend was likely affected by the attack at the mall here in San Diego. My stomach goes sour, and I find it hard to reply to that. It’s my biggest concern.
I reached my parents earlier, and they reassured me that our family was safe. Logically I know Teala is only at one of three places, but not knowing is driving me fucking batty. Hearing about Smith’s girlfriend only adds to that anxiety. I ask if our hospital was affected, and he confirms it hasn’t been hit, but it will be overloaded and understaffed. I rattle off a few things I need from my cage to complete my go-bag, and he agrees to get them for me if he gets back to base before I do. He asks if I’m going to Teala’s, and he knows because everyone fucking knows without me saying a thing. I’m in love with her, and I never told another soul. I didn’t even tell Teala. I roar out a string of swear words that would make my grandmother roll in her grave and wish him luck. I don’t answer his question about where I’m going. There’s no need.
The door to her studio is locked when I get there, but I spotted her car in the parking lot from the street. She’s here. Teala is somewhere, and all of a sudden this fucking plaza doesn’t feel safe. It feels like a trap. Real life feels like a trap. My gaze scans the parking lot as I’m comforted by the weight of my weapons on my hips. People are erratic. There’s no way to judge a person when the state of panic is so severe that no one is thinking clearly.
It’s hysteria, and the fact it isn’t just confined to one shopping plaza makes it all the worse. This is happening all over the world. It’s only a matter of time before the president hands down the order for martial law. Our entire country has already been declared in a state of emergency. I shiver. I won’t be here by then. My steel ball in my pocket will be rolling around all on her own. I bang on the glass of her window, peering in. She has to be inside there. She wouldn’t be dumb enough to go anywhere else. The attacks hadn’t stopped when I left work. The larger attacks were fading, but the smaller ones in grocery stores and gyms were gaining momentum.
I see Teala’s terrified face peek from the corner of the yoga room. My heart hammers out a staccato similar to when I’m getting ready to kill someone. It feels the same. It confuses me even further. I can forget everything else for the moment by the sheer look of relief that washes over her face when she sees it’s me.
She unlocks the door and pulls me inside, and she’s folded around me in her next breath. I lock the door because she failed to and relish the weight of her in my arms.
“You’re okay,” I whisper into her hair.
Teala pulls away to look at me. “What’s happening, Macs? What the fuck is happening out there? It’s not real, right?”
Tears streak down her cheeks, and her eyes are wild. Like a wild animal trapped in a cage. That’s what she reminds me of, and I feel guilty for thinking it, but I’m too glad she’s unharmed to worry about the train of my thoughts.
I swallow down my vanity and prepare to be the person who tells her it’s real life and everything she’s hearing is truth. “Teala, I’m going to find the people who did this.” That’s a truth I can give her.
“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe this is real. I can’t get ahold of my mom, Macs. I have no idea if she’s okay. The mall. Carina went to the mall. I don’t know if my friends are okay. The phones aren’t working!”
Her lips are trembling, and that’s all I need in the way of an invitation. I kiss her, pulling her to me and slanting my mouth over hers. She responds immediately, and this is a place where we’re okay. Nothing else matters for the seconds or minutes when we live inside this show of emotion. An emotion that isn’t anger or rage or fear. It’s the purest thing I’ve ever experienced.
“It’s going to be okay. Everyone is okay,” I whisper against her breaths.
There’s so much death in the air that a body count won’t be readily available for weeks, maybe even months. Smith’s girlfriend is Carina. Fuck. I slide the satellite phone out of my pocket.
“Call your mom,” I say, extending it to her.
Her eyes light up. “I need to go to her,” she wails.
I shake my head. “You can’t drive out there, Teala. It’s not safe.”
Nothing is safe. How will I protect her when I leave? I wonder if she could fit in my dead hooker bag. I’d give her food and water and take her with me wherever I went.
“I have to. She’s by herself, Macs. She’s probably freaking out. What if she’s driving to me right now? How are the roads?”
She’s pacing with the phone pressed to her ear. I notice she knows the number by heart and doesn’t need to check her own phone.
The lights flicker in the studio. Fuck. The power plant. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This isn’t good. She doesn’t seem to notice.
“Mom!” she screams. “Are you okay? I’m fine. I’m fine,” she says, responding to her mother’s harried shouts.
I stand by the glass and try to tune out Teala’s voice because hearing the pain that resides there makes me feel sick. I can’t do anything about it, and I surely can’t fix it. My hand automatically slides down to caress my weapon. Yes. There’s one thing I can do about this situation.
I stretch my arms over my head as I eye everything taking place in the parking lot. The lights flicker again and then go out completely. Teala’s apartment won’t be safe. Not in the city, that high up, with a parking garage. That won’t do. My house is in a neighborhood that’s too clustered. Maybe her mom’s place out of the city would be the best place to stash her while I’m gone. I pull another cell phone from my back pocket. It’s slow, but I’m able to stay abreast on the attacks as they’re reported. By this time, the news is about an hour behind. I see every gruesome target before anyone else knows, and I’m helpless.
“It’s not even over yet,” I whisper. “How in the fuck did we not know?”
“What did they say at work, Macs? Are you leaving?” Teala asks, the phone pressed to her ear, but eyes trained on me.
I nod. “I’ll have to go. The primary focus will be securing the US, but I’m not sure where they’ll send me first.”
I skip the logistics part because she doesn’t want to know what I’ll be doing. No one does until it’s finished and over. Then the news eats it up for breakfast and misrepresents everything. People will write books about this, and they won’t have to make up any details because this is larger than life all by itself. With my thumb, I wipe at a tear on her cheek, right on top of her beauty mark.
“You should go to your mom’s. I’ll drive you.”
