Chapter One
Lieutenant Commander Jim Borden, USN, glanced up at the half naked woman and wondered just how long this night was going to be. With his best man, and best friend since Annapolis, not able to fly in for the wedding until tomorrow morning, one of the younger team members had volunteered to plan the bachelor party. When Matt picked the Silk Stocking, more affectionately known as the Dirty Sock, Jim had laughed it off and thought why not. Now all he wanted was to get the hell out of here and find his fiancée, Bridget, to set things right again.
"You need another drink," one of his buddies slurred into his ear. "Or maybe you need a good lap dance. The blonde with the triple Ds will put a smile on your face."
A slender blonde with boobs the size of small watermelons had one leg wrapped around the tall chrome pole, her back arched like a European monument, and yet somehow the super-sized man-made breasts managed to defy the call of gravity. Offering a mock nod of approval, Jim said what his buddy wanted to hear, "Maybe later."
Jim brought his drink half way to his mouth and then set it back down. He couldn't keep his mind off Bridget. All day she'd been ignoring his calls and this afternoon when he'd dropped her parents off at the hotel, she'd been downright chilly. Since his return from Kona she'd been quiet. Too quiet. At first he'd thought she was just ticked off he'd left Honolulu shortly before the wedding to go help his buddy and former teammate, Billy Everrett, on the Big Island. The two friends hadn't spoken since a mission had gone south sending them both to the hospital, costing Billy a leg, Doug Hamilton his vision in one eye, and leaving Jim with ravaging scars on his back.
But sitting here stewing over the situation, he’d realized Bridget's mood was not going to blow over on its own. He needed to remind her how much he loved her and wanted her for his wife. Wife. The word still scared the hell out of him.
In his line of work he'd considered a wife and family a liability. He was deployed most of the year and the risk of being blown to bits in the line of duty was as high as the temps on an August day in Afghanistan. That kind of pressure did little to nurture a marriage. It used to be he'd been glad not to be tied down with a wife and family to worry about during a mission. Nothing to distract him when diffusing an explosive device. But more often of late he'd begun to envy the guys with wives waiting at the end of a tour or the men with their kid's photo in their breast pocket.
His time had come. The last explosion had nearly done him in. Both the burden of the scared kid who'd lost his life and the Humvee door that had almost sliced Jim in half. Now he'd have Bridget to come home to.
Billy came up on Jim's left and hefted a beer at the dancer, who gripping the slender pole with one hand, now spun about showing her wares. "Remember those days, sir?"
"Oh, yeah." Jim felt the smile pull at the corners of his mouth. It was good to have his friend back. For years, Billy had refused to speak with any of the former team. No hospital visits, no phone calls, emails, nothing. When Billy recently reached out to Jim for help, not even the voice of God could have stopped him from agreeing to help. "But what's with the sir?"
Billy shrugged a shoulder. "Habit."
"Well, leave it behind." Jim tapped his bottle against Billy's. "To wedded bliss."
"And the women who love us!" Having just gotten engaged himself, Billy said that through an especially wide shit-eating grin. "You're not looking like someone pleased to be getting married tomorrow."
"I am. It's just..."
"Cold feet?"
"Not mine." Jim toyed with the sweaty label. "Something's not right with Bridget. I thought she was pissed about my going to Kona."
Billy's face pinched. "Sorry, man."
"No. Nothing to be sorry for." All Jim had to do was find a way to make Bridget understand that no matter how much he wanted this new life of theirs, he would have leapt at any opportunity to reconnect with his former EOD teammate, even if it was the week before their wedding. The important thing was that he always intended to be back in time for the ceremony. And he'd made it, too. Surely, that had to count for something? "She's pulling back. I think... I think she's having second thoughts."
From his peripheral vision, Jim spotted one of his buddies climbing onto the dance floor. Bad move. At the same moment Jim grabbed an ankle, setting his bottle down on the bar, Billy turned to reach for the back of Brent's belt. Together the two men pulled the young lieutenant back to the safe zone.
"Why'd you do that, Commander?" the inebriated junior officer asked, his eyes tracking the dancer on the stage.
"Commander?" Billy repeated, still holding onto the kid's belt.
Jim stood, arms stretched, steadying his friend. "Promoted in the spring."
"Did you see the size of those—" the foolish friend started.
"Brent—" Jim cautioned.
"But—" Brent swung his arm out to point at the dancing blonde's attributes and smacked the waitress coming up beside him, knocking the drinks off the tray. And onto a drunk now bathed in scotch.
The drunk sprang to his feet and threw a right cross that completely missed Brent and left the guy spinning around until his fist connected with the already unhappy waitress.
Before Jim or Billy could back out of the way, the drunk took another swing, yelling, "See what you made me do?"
No drunk got the drop on Jim, or any of his men. Snatching the idiot's wrist in mid-air, he pushed the guy back and onto another inebriated tourist coming to his buddy's aid. Chairs scratched against the floor as people jumped to their feet and out of the way. The waitress, who would have one heck of a shiner come morning, screeched, "Call the cops."
A splash of gin and tonic hit Jim in the face. A fist flew past, knocking Brent back a step. Within minutes, fists and bodies were flying like spit balls in a third grade classroom. Time to evacuate. Jim scanned the room looking for his own.
Matt, the youngest man on Jim's team, shimmied through the crowd, ducking punches and tossed drinks. "Sir, we need to get out of here. ASAP."
No kidding. "How many unaccounted for?"
"Three, sir. Chief Watson, Kevin, and your friend Doug."
Jim nodded. "You and Brent hit the side door." He could see the desire to stay reflected in the kid's eyes. But following orders, Matt grabbed Brent by the arm and quickly hauled him past the brawling crowd.
"You gather the two I don't know. I'll round up Doug."
"There he is." Jim pointed. "Ten o'clock and he's got Watson."
"What's Kevin look like?" Billy asked.
Another quick scan and Jim caught sight of Kevin's red Hawaiian shirt. Only the shirt was on the buxom blonde. What the...?
A sharp whistle pierced the air. Jim cast a quick glance across the room in time to see the side door slamming shut behind Matt and Brent. Doug and Watson were nowhere to be seen.
HPD flooded the room. Jim turned to Billy. "We are so screwed."
***
"How's the other guy look?" Lexie Hale raised a quieting hand at the two men before her. Rumpled from a night in jail, it was Jim's bruised cheek and torn shirt that gave any indication of the brawl that had landed them in the cell. "Don't tell me. Jarheads?"
"A waitress actually." Jim filed past her, following her boss’ footsteps.
"Waitress?" That had not been the response Lexie had expected. She'd overheard enough conversation the last week in Kona amongst her boss' Navy pals to know Marine vs. Navy brawls were not exaggerated. But starting a fight with a waitress?
"When the cops escorted everyone out of the establishment—"
Escorted? Lexie covered her mouth, feigning a cough to hide her giggle. Billy shot her a cutting glance.
Jim ignored her and kept walking. "The waitress got one clean shot in. Brent was the one who started the fight by knocking the drinks off her tray, but I was the only handy target."
"I ducked." Billy flashed a toothy grin.
Pausing at the large wooden door, waiting for the officer on the other end to open the last barrier to freedom, Lexie lifted her hand to better examine Jim's cheek. "A little makeup and Bridget won't shoot you for ruining her wedding photos."
"Yeah, well. Thanks for coming out. Bridget's not very happy with me lately. I wasn't relishing the thought of calling her in the middle of the night to bail our sixes, excuse me, our behinds out of jail."
Lexie bit back a smile. The games people play. This was why she liked being single. Men and relationships were simply more maintenance than she wanted to deal with.
The guys reached the end of the hall and stopped at a wide counter with a mesh wall. Jim shook his head. "Facing my CO won't be any better."
Lips pressed tightly together, Billy turned to his friend. "I should have shoved your sorry six out the door before the cops got there. Doug and I aren't active duty, but you... How bad is this going to go down?"
"That." Jim heaved an ominous sigh. "Depends on what I'm charged with."
"Nothing," Lexie offered quickly.
Both men's heads snapped about.
Normally Billy was the partner at the Big Island Dive shop who handled a crisis, but this time it was Nick Harper, or more accurately his wife, who had come to the rescue.
"You really should thank Nick for marrying Kara," Lexie explained. "Then you need to thank her for saving your hide. I phoned her as soon as I hung up with you. She made a couple of calls. The local DA was in the JAG corps with the judge who's been sending Kara work. The bar owner is former Navy. All of that worked in your favor. And." She glanced from one to the other. "Kara can be very persuasive. No charges are being filed against either of you. Apparently the old adage, it's not what you know but who you know, still holds true."
Billy and Jim signed a small mountain of paperwork, retrieved their personal possessions, and strolled out the building as though being arrested in a bar room brawl was an everyday occurrence.
Outside, the sun already shone bright. Jim flipped his wrist to check the time at the exact moment Lexie looked at her phone for the same reason. "You have three hours to clean up and get to the church looking like a groom and not a jailbird."
"Right."
Jim reminded her of her bosses. Aside from all three being superb specimens of US Navy Special Forces, Billy and Nick were both poster boys for unreadable expressions. Jim was no different. He could easily be as nervous as a cat in a dog kennel or as calm as the ocean at low tide. And there was no way she could tell which.
"Do we need to stop and pick up cars?" Lexie clicked the fob on the car rental.
Jim slid into the back seat. "No. We rode with Doug."
Keys hovering over the ignition, Lexie froze. "Was I supposed to bail someone else out, too?"
"No. Jim and I were the only two from our group in the holding cells."
Good. She'd have hated to leave one of their friends in jail and in trouble. With a nod, she started the car and pulled into traffic.
Excitement for the upcoming nuptials began to fizz like an uncorked champagne bottle. Already thinking ahead, she mentally set out her new dress and debated how to wear her hair. Lexie loved weddings. As long, of course, as they weren't hers.
***
Not fifteen minutes after dropping the guys off in the lobby, Billy summoned Lexie upstairs to Jim's room.
Her arm raised, poised to knock, the door swung open and Billy filled the doorway.
"I brought some make up." She held out the cover up to hide the bruise on Jim's cheek.
"We have a problem." Billy's hard gaze was punctuated by the irritated twitch of his jaw muscles clamped tight.
"Someone else is in jail?"
"No." He waved her into the room. "The bride has gone AWOL."
"You lost the bride?" Could this day get any crazier? Lexie was a dive instructor and shop manager, not a bounty hunter. "How can you lose a bride?"
"We didn't lose her. She left Jim a note."
Lexie's eyes shifted to Jim standing by the window, his focus on the shoreline in the distance. A single sheet of paper crumpled in his fisted hand. Crap, he didn't deserve this. "She heard about the raid?"
Billy shook his head. "Doesn't seem that way. She left the note last night. We just found it in his room. I've called his best man."
Turning to Billy, Lexie lowered her voice. "He seems to be holding it together pretty well." And wasn't that a stupid observation. The guy wasn't a girl. He wouldn't be throwing everything within reach across the room. Crying and screaming. Taking his pain and anger out on anyone and everyone who dared cross his path. The guy was a Navy hero. No one would see his breaking heart.
Billy hefted a shoulder. "He saw it coming. Things weren't all paradise with them. I'm on my way to tell his folks. His best man had to book a room in a different hotel, but he's on his way. I need you to please go to the church and let everyone know the wedding is off. Then cancel the reception."
"Me?"
"I don't know who else to ask. Angela is already in the air. I'm supposed to be leaving in a minute to pick her up."
"How about Bridget? She planned the whole thing."
"According to her note, she and her parents caught the last flight to LA last night. She actually told Jim to go ahead and have the reception anyway. To think of it as a blowout party. Do you believe that?"
"Not a bad idea. Sort of goodbye and good riddance."
Billy’s eyes narrowed. "I didn't expect that from you."
"I was thinking good riddance to her." Finding her own hands curled into angry fists, she stretched her fingers, then raised her voice in Jim's direction. "She doesn't deserve you."
Only the slightest of nods told her that he'd heard what she'd said.
"Okay." She turned to Billy. "I'm going to need more info if I'm supposed to cancel this whole shindig. Who has a list of names and contacts? I'll need to call the location, the caterer, the photographer, I don't see there being enough time to contact the guests—especially with a destination wedding. I could put an announcement in the lobby for the guests in this hotel, or I could—"
"She's right," Jim muttered, still staring out the window.
"Who's right?" Billy and Lexie chorused.
Slowly, the quiet man who had spent a week in Kona protecting people he didn't know simply because a friend had asked him to, steeled his spine and apparently his mind. Any pain she might have expected to see in the eyes of a broken hearted man was hidden behind blind determination.
"Bridget. Lexie. Whoever. The reception is only a few hours away. Everything is in place. There may not be a wedding to attend, but there's enough food and booze to outfit an aircraft carrier."
Storming away from the window, Jim tossed the crumpled note in the trash, undid the buttons of his shirt, and having reached the bathroom door, tossed an icy stare in their direction. "We are going to have one helluva party."
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