Page 62 of Trusting a Warrior

Myriad names and faces flashed before his mind’s eye—guys taken too soon. They’d been men he’d looked up to, men he’d loved, men he’d gladly trade places with if he could. They were heroes, every single one of them, and Geo would miss them for the rest of his life.

But none as much as Cade.

Geo’s mouth dried up, his pulse throbbing behind his eyes, all the alcohol he’d drunk sloshing its way through his veins. Why shouldn’t he toast Cade? Cade was as deserving as anyone, his exploits legendary in the special operations medics community. Geo had seen him run through a hail of gunfire to reach the wounded, cover shattered bodies with his own as the enemy closed in...

That’s what he should be remembered for, goddammit! Nothing else, and damn if Geo wasn’t going to try to keep his memory alive.

“Who you got, Georgie?”

His heart thundering, Geo glanced around the group, then raised his half-empty beer glass. “To Cade Barlow—”

Before he could even get the words out, Lennox thumped his glass on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. Geo rocketed up and out of his seat. “What’s the matter, sir? My toast not good enough for you?”

Lennox shrugged. “I don’t toast cowards.”

“No, only rapists.” Matt’s grunt barely registered over the roaring in Geo’s ears.

He leaned across the table and got right in Lennox’s face. “Whatever your personal feelings about his death,” he hissed, “I’m toasting a friend, and what I’d appreciate is a little goddamn respect while I do so.”

“Friend?” Lennox smirked, a malicious light in his eyes. “Some friend, huh, Monteverdi? That’s not what I heard. I heard you egged him on—”

With a howl of rage and pain, Geo swung at him...and missed. In the next instant he was flat on his back, breath knocked out of him by Lennox’s vicious tackle. Years of resentment, and contempt, burst into flame, with Geo’s guilt acting like gasoline thrown on a campfire. His second punch didn’t miss, slamming into Lennox’s jaw with a satisfying crunch.

Lennox roared and returned the favor, and Geo’s head bounced off the floor so hard he saw stars. Before he could regroup, strong hands pulled him to his feet, arms like steel bands around his shoulders.

“Let me go,” he shouted at Matt and Alex, his struggles futile against their iron grip. Across from him, other guys had Lennox similarly wrapped up, and amidst the demands from the bartenders to “Get ’em outta here, now,” they were both muscled outside.

In the parking lot, Geo broke free, but his head still rang from the blow and the beer, and he staggered. Lennox yanked against his bonds, the guys holding him fast, spittle spraying from his mouth as he bellowed, “I’ll have your Trident for this! I’ll fuckin’ take your Trident and shove it up your ass!”

Still shouting, he was dragged away.

Dimly, Geo felt Matt’s arm slide around his waist. He sagged against him, nausea and emotion clogging his chest, the toxic brew suddenly surging into his throat in a sickening wave that had him jerking away.

Dropping to his knees, then all fours, Geo vomited in heave after wrenching heave. Matt knelt next to him, his hand between his shoulder blades, firm and warm.

“Stop it,” Geo choked. “Go away.”

“No.”

“God—dammit—”

“Swim buddies, remember?” Matt whispered. “Not going anywhere.”

With his stomach finally emptied, he collapsed on his side, away from the mess. After waiting a moment to let him catch his breath, Matt coaxed him to standing and helped him to a nearby bench.

The platoon’s medic jogged over and crouched at his feet. “You hit your noggin pretty hard, Geo. I’m worried you might have a concussion.”

Gut still churning, Geo submitted to a quick exam, his head drooping as the medic gave Matt instructions on what to look for during what remained of the night. “Keep a close eye on him, and call me if he vomits again.”

“Roger that.”

After the medic had gotten up, Alex took his place. “You know Parnell’s gonna call for a Trident review board,” he said without preamble.

“I know.” Geo pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed hard. “What are the chances he’ll get my bird pulled?”

After all, he’d swung first. He’d let his anger get the best of him, and now Lennox could end his career. With Geo’s Trident yanked from him, he’d be sent out into the fleet, his life as a SEAL over.

Oh, my God. What have I done?