Texas SEAL (SEALs of Coronado Book 3) Page 2

  Trent snorted. Most if his new platoon had taken to calling him Cowboy because he grew up in Texas. Not exactly the most creative nickname he’d ever heard.

  “I don’t want to take leave at all,” he grumbled.

  Nash shook his head. “You have to. You’ve got what—a hundred and ten days’ worth of leave on the books? Headquarters is really good letting us stockpile leave because we deploy so frigging much, but sooner or later, they’re going to make you take some of it.”

  That was true enough.

  “Guess I’ll update my Netflix account and binge watch some shows then.”

  Although that might be more complicated than it was for most people since Trent rarely watched TV, and when he did it was usually football, baseball, or basketball.

  Nash dragged his gaze away from the game to look at him. “Isn’t there anyplace you’ve wanted to visit? Some exotic foreign locale? Maybe a natural wonder like the Grand Canyon or something. I happen to know for a fact that you have the money to go anywhere you want because you live like a frigging monk.”

  Trent made a face. “What are you talking about? I go on a lot of dates.”

  Well, maybe not a lot, but he went out. Just usually not with the same woman more than a couple of times. It was hard having a steady relationship when you were a SEAL.

  “I’m not talking about sex,” Nash said. “I’m talking about this place.”

  As if to prove his point, Nash motioned around at Trent’s sparsely furnished apartment. Okay, maybe it was kind of Spartan. He’d simply never worried about what the place looked like because he wasn’t around enough to care. When he wasn’t deployed on a normal rotation, he was in standing at the operations officer’s desk volunteering to go out with any Team that needed an extra body. Besides, what more did a guy need than a couch, a television—even if he rarely watched it—and a comfortable bed.

  Trent swigged his beer. “Okay, I see your point, but it’d be kind of dull to go somewhere on vacation on my own.”

  Nash grunted in what sounded like agreement. Like Trent, Nash hadn’t exactly been very lucky when it came to finding a steady relationship. Being a SEAL had its advantages if you were looking for a one-night stand, but if you were looking for something more than that, it could be a liability. No woman wanted to wait around for you to get back from your eighth deployment of the year—if you came back at all.

  “Why not go visit your family back in San Antonio, then?” Nash asked.

  Trent grimaced. “I’d like to, but it’s...complicated.”

  “How so?”

  Where did he start?

  He leaned forward and set his beer on the coffee table then rested his forearms on his thighs. “I grew up on a ranch outside San Antonio. My parents still run the place with lots of help from my brothers and sisters, which is something they remind me about every time I go back there. I’m the only one who doesn't live within ten miles of the ranch, the only one not married, and the only one without any kids.”

  It was Nash’s turn to wince. “Mom and Dad not so thrilled with your career choice, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Trent shrugged. “I mean, they’re proud of me and all, but they’re not shy about saying they’d prefer if I got out of the SEALs and moved back to the area. You know, settle down and start a family. I love them, but it’s hard to deal with the constant nagging when I visit.”

  “Okay, that definitely explains why you’re not hyped to run home and catch up with the family,” Nash said. “What about friends? Aren’t there any high school buddies you want to hang out with? Your parents wouldn’t have to know you’re in town.”

  Trent grabbed his beer, draining half of it before answering. “I do have a buddy I’ve known since we were kids who I wouldn’t mind catching up with.”

  “So, go see him.”

  “I’m not so sure that’d be a good idea,” Trent said. “He’s had some trouble with the law.”

  “Ah,” Nash said in understanding.

  Trent stared at the TV, not watching the game but remembering the kid who used to laugh all the time and charm his way out of trouble with that sugar-sweet smile and fast-talking mouth. Then the image changed to a tired-looking teenager with dark circles under his eyes and clothes hanging off a gaunt frame.

  “I’m not sure where his life derailed, but Marco fell in with some bad people during our junior year of high school,” Trent explained. “I stuck with him anyway. I mean, we were friends, and I wasn’t going to write him off, regardless of what he did. Unfortunately, I couldn’t keep him from walking away from me.”

  “What happened?”

  “He dropped out of school partway through our senior year, and by the time I left for Navy boot camp, Marco had gotten involved in selling drugs as well as doing them and got a five-year sentence for possession with intent to distribute. He got out in less than that, but ended up right back in the life and doing a second stint in prison for simple possession. My parents mentioned that he’s out now, but still...”

  “I get it,” Nash said. “You’d like to see your best friend, but he has a prison record.”

  “That’s part of it,” Trent admitted. “It probably wouldn’t do my security clearance any good if the investigators found out I’d been hanging out with a convicted felon with a drug history. Even if that weren’t an issue, I’m not sure what the hell I’d talk to Marco about now. To say we’ve grown apart is an understatement.”

  Nash didn’t answer.

  Trent stared at the baseball game, wondering what the hell the whole conversation they’d had said about his life. He loved his family but never went home to see them, his best friend had gotten into trouble and disappeared from his life, and when his boss told him to take some time off from an insane work schedule, there was no place he wanted to go.

  He was still thinking about that when the doorbell rang.

  “That had better be Dalton with the damn pizza,” Nash grumbled. “I’m frigging starving. We should have gotten delivery instead of letting him pick up the pies.”

  Trent got up and opened the door without looking through the peephole. He expected to see Dalton standing there with two pepperoni pizzas in hand, but instead it was a beautiful, dark-haired woman. All he could do was stare. Damn, she was seriously cute.

  “Trent?” she said.

  Not only did she have the face of an angel, but she sounded like one. Well, at least he imagined that was what an angel sounded like. He was so mesmerized it took him a minute to realize she was regarding him questioningly, like she was afraid he didn’t recognize her.

  He was pretty sure he didn’t. He never would have forgotten a woman this stunning.

  Trent was about to say as much, but then caught himself as her big brown eyes, silky dark hair, perfect tanned skin, and her pert little nose tickled a memory buried way back in the recesses of his mind. Little by little, he drew the memories out, until he thought that maybe he did know her—maybe.

  “Lyla...is that you?” he asked hesitantly.

  He still wasn’t completely sure he was right. If this woman was indeed Lyla Torres, then she’d definitely been drinking a lot of milk since he’d seen her last because something had sure done her body good. She was all sexy curves and long legs.

  And if the woman was Lyla, then every law of serendipity in the universe had been severely violated, because he and Nash had just been talking about her brother, Marco. What were the chances of that?

  The gorgeous woman standing on his doorstep nodded, confirming she was in fact the younger sister of his best friend. Or at least the man who used to be his best friend.

  “It’s me.” She smiled. “Can’t you tell?”

  Trent returned her grin. “Yeah, but you’ve changed—a lot.”

  He tried to be good and keep his eyes from sliding down her body to take another peek, but he mostly failed at that. Lyla didn’t seem to notice. Laughing, she stepped close to wrap her arms around him.

  “You’ve changed a lot
, too,” she said, giving him a squeeze. “You were always well built, but I can’t even get my arms around you now. Where did all these muscles come from?”

  Trent automatically wrapped his arms around her, inhaling deeply as he buried his face in her thick, dark hair. She smelled absolutely intoxicating. “Better diet, I reckon.”

  Lyla was two years younger than he was, which was why he’d never made a move on her back in high school even though he’d always thought she was cute. Their ages just hadn’t worked out quite right. Besides, the bro code had made her completely off- limits. There was no way he would have tried to date his best friend’s younger sister. That would have been ten different levels of wrong.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, finally pulling back to look at her. Damn, a man could get seriously lost in those dark eyes if hers if he wasn’t careful. “Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly, not wanting to offend her. “But it’s not exactly a short trip out here from San Antonio.”

  She stepped back a little, too, but kept her hands on his forearms. She had nice long, graceful fingers with beautiful rounded nails.

  “I came out here to see you. Well...to ask for a favor. Your mom mentioned to my mom where you lived, so I thought I’d take a chance and see if you were home. I know I should have called or something first, but...” The smile faded from her eyes to be replaced with worry. “It’s just that I’m in trouble and could really use your help.”

  Trent opened his mouth to reply, but Nash beat him to it.

  “Of course we’ll help you.” Nash stuck his head out the door, flashing her a grin. “You don’t even have to ask. Helping beautiful damsels in distress is what we do.”

  “We?” Lyla said, ignoring the over the top compliment and instead giving his SEAL teammate a dubious look.

  “This is Nash,” Trent said before his buddy could open his mouth and say something embarrassing. “He’s a friend, and on the same SEAL team with me. He’s right, though. If you’re in trouble, we’ll do anything we can to help.”

  She sagged with obvious relief and took a deep breath like she’d been holding it the whole time.

  “Come on in,” Trent said.

  Lyla nodded her thanks and slipped past him and Nash into the apartment. Beside him, Nash followed her with his gaze then gave Trent a look.

  “What were you saying about not knowing where to go on leave?” he asked softly. “Like she isn’t enough reason to go home.”

  Trent closed the door with a shrug. “She’s my best friend’s younger sister, which makes her kind of off-limits.”

  Nash considered that. “I guess, but still...”

  Trent ignored him and led the way over to the couch. Lyla was obviously in some kind of trouble. There was no way he was going to make a move on her when she was vulnerable.

  He grabbed the remote from the table and turned off the TV. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  Lyla shook her head as she sat down. “I’m good, thanks.”

  Taking a seat on the other leg of the sectional, Trent leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “What kind of trouble are you in, Lyla?”

  “It’s not me,” she said. “It’s Marco. He’s missing. I think he’s gotten himself into something really bad.”

  Trent cursed silently, his mind immediately going to the obvious place. Marco was a convicted felon with a history of using and selling drugs. If he was missing, there was probably a good reason.

  Lyla held up her hand. “I know what you’re thinking. That Marco went to prison—twice— and that he’s a drug dealer and a junkie. And you’re right. But that was in the past. I know it sounds lame, but it’s true. Marco fell in with a bad crowd, and he let them lead him to places he never should have gone. After he got out of prison this last time, he put that life behind him and got clean. He’s an artist now and earns a good living making and selling metal sculptures. He has a permanent showing in a gallery in San Antonio and several traveling exhibits that display his art all over the Southwestern United States and Mexico. He’s becoming really well known.”

  Trent had a hard time imagining the guy he used to know being any kind of artist, especially a metal sculptor.

  “But?” he prompted when Lyla didn’t continue.

  Lyla bit her lip. “Ten days ago, he didn’t show up for a lunch date we’d made. I got worried, so I went over to his place. The door had been kicked in, and there were signs of a struggle. I haven’t heard from him since.”

  From where he stood in the center of the living room, Nash exchanged looks with Trent. No doubt his teammate was thinking the same thing he was. Just because Marco had tried to turn his back on the life that had dragged him down didn’t mean people in that world were ready to let him walk. It sounded like someone from Marco’s past had come calling.

  “Did you call the police?” Trent asked.

  Lyla laughed, the sound bitter and scornful at the same time. “Yeah, but the cops aren’t interested in looking into the disappearance of an ex-con like Marco. They didn’t dust for prints or anything. All they did was look around and write a report.”

  “What about his parole officer?” Nash wondered. “He recently got out of prison, so I assume your brother has one.”

  “He has one, but participating in the program he was on in prison this last time—the one where he learned how to cut and weld metal—meant he only has to see his parole officer once a month. Marco isn’t due to meet with the guy for another two weeks, and I’m hesitant to say anything to him early because I’m afraid he’ll revoke my brother’s parole and the cops will put a warrant out for his arrest.” She grimaced. “His parole officer isn’t too thrilled with the way the new program allows my brother to travel all over the place, especially down to Mexico. I’m worried about Marco, but I don’t want to risk putting him back in jail—or destroying his new career. I can’t do that to him.”

  Trent frowned. “What do your mom and dad think?”

  “I haven’t told them,” she admitted. “And they aren’t involved in Marco’s life enough to realize it themselves. Dad won’t let him come to the house anymore. If Mom wants to see Marco, she has to go to his apartment.”

  Well, that had to suck for Lyla. Trent knew that most people in their hometown considered Marco a complete screwup and too worthless to bother with. Yet Lyla had stuck with him. Now he was missing, and the police didn’t seem interested in finding him. She couldn’t tell his parole officer for fear of getting him in trouble—if he was alive—and she couldn’t tell their parents any of it.

  “Why did you come here, Lyla?” he asked quietly. “What do you think I can do for you that the police can’t?”

  Her eyes misted and, for a moment, he thought she might burst into tears. But then she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

  “I’m not sure what you can do,” she said. “But you were always Marco’s friend, and you stuck with him even when his life started going in the toilet. My brother has burned every other bridge he’s ever made, but I was hoping the one he had with you might still be solid. I thought maybe you could come back to San Antonio and help me look for him.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to. It’s a long way to go for a friend you haven’t seen in years, especially one who has completely screwed up his life. But you’re the only person I could think to turn to. If you say no, I’m on my own.”

  Trent gazed at his best friend’s little sister. Lyla had changed a lot in the years since he’d seen her, but the one thing that hadn’t changed was how much she cared about her older brother. She was worried about Marco and wasn’t going to let this go. If Trent didn’t help her, she’d look on her own. No matter how much trouble that got her into.

  On the other side of the coffee table, Nash lifted a brow. “You said you didn’t have anything to do with two weeks of leave. Looks like now you do.”

  Trent supposed that was true. He didn’t have a clue what was going on with Marco, and at the mo
ment, he guessed that didn’t really matter. He’d go and stick his nose into the situation and see what he could learn. If nothing else, at least he could keep Lyla from getting into any trouble herself. Marco had let some bad people drag him down. There was no way in hell Trent would let those same people get their hands on Lyla.

  Chapter Two

  “YOU CAN DROP me off at the nearest hotel and pick me up in the morning,” Trent said. “Between the long flight and having to wait for our bags, it’s too late to start looking for Marco tonight.”

  Lyla glanced at the clock on the dash as she started her Toyota RAV-4 and groaned. She couldn’t believe it was after two in the morning. So much for getting a chance to look for Marco the moment they got here.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said to Trent as she put the SUV in gear and backed out of the space she’d parked in when she’d dropped it off that morning at the airport. “I have an extra bedroom I use as an office to grade papers and prepare my lesson plans. There’s a futon in there you can sleep on. It might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, but at least it won’t cost you an arm and a leg like the hotels around here.”

  He nodded. “As long as you’re comfortable with the idea of my crashing at your place. I don’t want you to feel obligated to put me up.”

  “You flew all the way out here to help me find my brother—I am obligated.” She smiled. “And as far as being comfortable with your staying with me, of course I am. I’ve know you since I was five years old.”

  As she headed for the exit to the airport’s long-term parking lot, the clock on the dashboard reminded Lyla once again how long it had taken to get back to San Antonio. The flight itself was barely more than four hours, yet it had taken them over twelve to make the trip. She’d tried not letting her frustration show during that time, but she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded. It wasn’t Trent’s fault it had taken so long, any more than it was his fault they’d lost so much time picking up their bags. The flight from San Diego had been stuffed to the gills, and although she and Trent had small carry-ons, they’d been forced to check the bags anyway.