Cowboys & Navy SEALs

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

F rom what Corbin could tell, he’d been placed in a holding cell in some deep underground section of the mansion. The walls were solid metal with the door being the only opening. Corbin had yelled for several minutes, demanding to be released, but the box was as soundproof as a tomb. Finally, he slumped down in the metal chair beside the table. Two chairs and a table were the only furniture in the room.

It was crazy how fast things had escalated out of control. One minute, he was attempting to talk to Delaney. And the next, he was fighting with the big guy, whom he assumed was Delaney’s bodyguard. The anger had taken over, the way it had been doing for some time now. But Corbin hadn’t started this fight. Trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went. He rumbled out a sarcastic laugh. Was this Sutton Smith’s plan all along? Lure him here so he could keep him prisoner?

No, there was no reason for Sutton to have a grudge against Corbin. If anything, Sutton should be glad that Corbin had tried to avenge Doug’s death the day of the ambush. Of course, everything went terribly wrong. But that was beside the point. Corbin, more than anyone except Sutton, had felt the agony of Doug’s death. And with that pain came the guilt of what happened afterward.

The door opened, and Sutton stepped through. He strode over and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the table. Even though Sutton was dressed impeccably in an expensive tux, he was all grit and muscle, his movements as nimble as a panther. The type of guy you didn’t want to cross. His blue eyes flickered over Corbin. “I’m glad to see the tux was sent to you as instructed.” After decades in the US, Sutton still had a slight British accent.

Corbin glanced down at the stains. “I hope you included dry cleaning in the package.” He noticed that Sutton had left the door open. Maybe that was a good sign that he’d let Corbin out of here soon.

A slight smile touched Sutton’s lips in acknowledgement of Corbin’s poor attempt at humor, then vanished almost as quickly as it had come. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

Seriously? The guy wanted to make conversation. “I’d be a lot better if I weren’t handcuffed.” He gave Sutton a hard look. “Why’re you keeping me here?”

“I had hoped to have this conversation on friendlier terms. But I didn’t expect you to get into a fight the minute you stepped in the door.” His voice held a note of irony.

Corbin’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t start it. It was that meathead bodyguard?—”

Amusement flickered in Sutton’s eyes. “I know what happened. I saw the security feed.” His eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his forehead. “You handled yourself pretty well.” He shrugged. “At least until the end, when you were put down.”

He didn’t appreciate the assessment, nor the jab. “Four on one’s hardly fair.” It was no surprise that Sutton had cameras everywhere. This conversation was probably being recorded right now. He glanced around, seeing no evidence of a camera. But that didn’t mean one wasn’t hidden somewhere.

Sutton chuckled. “I’d think by now you would’ve learned that life is anything but fair.”

Somehow Corbin knew Sutton was talking about Doug. It got him like a punch in the gut. He caught a blip of Sutton’s hurt mirroring his own. He swallowed the ball in his throat. He looked Sutton in the eye. “Why did you pay for me to come here?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Something other than being handcuffed and thrown in a cell?” He shot Sutton an accusing look.

“You brought that on yourself, lad.”

Corbin was getting fed up with dancing around the topic. “What do you want from me?”

“I’m holding a meeting.” He glanced at his watch. “It starts in five minutes. I’d like for you to attend, and I’ll explain everything.”

He pinned Sutton with a look. “You’ll tell me now. I’m tired of playing games. I wore the tux, came to your stupid party, got mauled by your security guards, and thrown into some holding cell. Enough is enough.”

Sutton quirked a half smile. “You have a couple of options here.”

“I’m listening.”

“In a couple of minutes, someone’s going to come in and remove your handcuffs.” He reached in his jacket and retrieved an envelope. “Here’s the money you were promised.” He placed it on the table. “You can take it and go your merry way, or you can stick around for the meeting—hear about a unique opportunity that could be yours, if you have enough sense to recognize it.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” Corbin growled. “I’m doing just fine on my own.”

“Obviously, with your bar bouncer job and part-time security gig at the movie theater.”

Corbin flinched. “You’ve had me checked out.” He didn’t need to have it pointed out that he’d reached a low point in his life. “Why?”

Sutton let out a long sigh. “Look, I know what happened right after Doug died.”

The words came at Corbin like a sledgehammer as he gasped, shame burning over him. “H—how?” he sputtered. Those records were sealed. Then again there were probably very few things in this world a man like Sutton Smith couldn’t access.

A fierce light came into Sutton’s eyes as he continued. “I know the anger that fuels you. I’ve felt it myself.” He paused. “In fact, it almost destroyed me,” he said softly. He clutched his fist. “Here’s the bottom line, I’m offering you a chance to do something meaningful with your life. And I’ll pay you handsomely in the process.”

“Why do you give a crap about me?” Corbin rattled off reflexively.

Sutton straightened his shoulders, not taking his eyes off Corbin’s. “Because my son gave a crap about you, that’s why.”

Moisture rose in Corbin’s eyes as he blinked. “Doug was the best friend I ever had.” He coughed to hide his emotion, looking down at the table.

“He loved you like a brother. For what’s it’s worth, thank you.”

Corbin’s head shot up. “For what?”

“For caring enough about Doug to come here tonight. And for keeping my son’s memory alive.”

The gravity of Sutton’s words hit Corbin full force. Something swift and strong flowed between them. They would always be connected through Doug’s life and then later his death.

A man stepped in. Corbin recognized him as one of the security guards who’d tackled him earlier. The guy shot Corbin a surly look. It gave him a ping of satisfaction when he saw the guy’s swollen lip. He stepped behind Corbin and removed the handcuffs. Then he turned on his heel and left the room in a hurry like he feared a rematch. Corbin stood, glancing at the envelope and then at Sutton.

Sutton rose to his feet. “What will it be?”

He tugged at his jacket. “I’m in no hurry. I’ll go to the meeting.”

Sutton looked pleased. “Very well.” He motioned. “This way.”

“What is this?” Corbin glared at the four faces seated around the conference room table. Blayze, River, Zane, and Cannon … fellow members of SEAL Team 7—four people he hoped to never lay eyes on again. They looked just as surprised to see him.

Sutton motioned. “Have a seat.”

Blood thrashed against Corbin’s temples as his feet stayed rooted to the floor, his fists clutching into balls. “Whatever this is, I don’t want any part of it.” He couldn’t believe Sutton had dragged him here to face these guys. So much for opportunity .

River smirked at Zane, who was sitting beside him. “No surprise there.”

Corbin’s body tensed. “What do you mean by that?” He was ready to pound some heads.

Zane AKA Thor because of his striking resemblance to the Marvel hero, made a point of eyeing the blood streaks on his jacket. “Same old Corbin, huh? Always got somebody’s blood on your hands.”

The comment was the match that lit the wildfire. He pounced at Zane who sprang to his feet. Corbin managed to strike a fist to Zane’s cheekbone before Zane landed a punch of his own that knocked Corbin back against the table. It was one thing to spar with a lumbering bodyguard, but another to fight a fellow Navy SEAL who was Corbin’s equal in every way. Still, there was no backing down from this. Corbin got back up, ready to go again. He swung, but Zane ducked. Corbin took another shot. Zane stepped out of the way, but Corbin ran at him, the two toppling to the floor.

The other guys pulled them apart.

“Enough, already!” Cannon yelled, stepping between them. A volunteer, lay pastor, Cannon was normally the easy-going one in the group, determined to help keep the peace. It was always an uphill task considering they were a group of alpha males, constantly vying to be top-dog.

Zane’s brow shot up, a derisive chuckle barking out of his lips. “Careful, Cannon. You know how Corbin hates taking orders from superiors.”

The comment was a knife in the gut. Zane had been the commanding officer in their platoon. He took it as a personal insult when Corbin defied his order on the day Doug was killed. And he’d never let Corbin forget it. “Respect has to be earned, not demanded.” It was probably not the best comeback, but the only one Corbin could come up with.

Zane shook his head in disgust. “Exactly. And you lost our respect the day you hung us out to dry.”

Sutton held up his hands. “Gentlemen, if you’ll please take your seats.” He looked at Corbin. “And put a lid on your anger for a few minutes, you might find this conversation beneficial.”

All eyes turned to Corbin, waiting for his reaction.

“I’m not sure it’s possible for him to cork his anger,” Zane said, an open challenge simmering in his eyes. “Why don’t you just tap the brass bell right now and save us all the trouble?”

It was a low blow, referring to the brass bell which sat in the courtyard at BUD/S Training. When guys couldn’t hack the drills they’d ring the bell three times, signaling that they’d had enough, at which point they’d forfeit their chance to become a SEAL and receive another Naval assignment. Before Zane’s comment, Corbin was ready to leave this room, turn his back on these men forever. But now, the only way anyone would drag him out of here would be in a body bag.

He lifted his chin and sat down in the closest seat, crossing his arms over his chest, his jaw set in stone. He could feel the other guys watching him. There was a time when he’d loved these guys like brothers, almost as much as he’d loved Doug. Their team had a reputation for being one of the best. That all changed the night Doug got killed. Deep down, Corbin didn’t blame the guys for hating him. He hated himself for what happened. All the training in the world, his former achievements, none of it would be enough to make up for those few short, dreadful minutes when he’d lost it and gone on the rampage.

Sutton cleared his throat. “You’re wondering why I asked you to come here tonight.”

“The thought has crossed our minds.”

This came from Blayze who was sitting on the opposite side of the table. Expert at reading people and situations, Corbin could tell from the intense look on Blayze’s face that he was trying to get a read on Sutton. Corbin risked a glance at Cannon who gave him a slight smile. For an instant, Corbin was taken off guard by the kindness. Then again, Cannon had always preached the value of turning the other cheek. Corbin offered a quick nod of acknowledgement before turning his attention back to Sutton.

“All of you are highly trained, retired SEALs. Men who can be trusted. Men whom my son Doug trusted.”

Corbin’s skin crawled a little at that. He knew none of the men in this room trusted him any further than they could throw him. They felt like he’d broken the code and betrayed their trust. Well, maybe he had, but he’d certainly not done it intentionally. If he could relive that day and react differently to Doug’s death, he would in a heartbeat.

Furthermore, everyone around this table would be a little squirrelly at the mention of Doug’s trust . None of them knew for sure whether it had been enemy or friendly fire that killed Doug. Had Sutton brought them here to exact revenge? A shiver raced down Corbin’s spine. Maybe the billionaire philanthropist wasn’t so benevolent, after all. He pushed aside the misgiving. He and Sutton had shared a moment in the holding cell—he saw it in Sutton’s eyes, felt it rattle his core. He and Sutton shared a bond. They’d both loved Doug, both had been completely devastated by Doug’s death. Sutton said this was an opportunity, and Corbin believed the man was being truthful.

“In case you’re wondering, I know every last detail surrounding Doug’s death,” Sutton continued, stroking his short beard, which was more pepper than salt.

An uncomfortable silence froze over the group. The only reason the five former SEALs were alive was because Doug had chosen to die so they could escape the ambush.

Sutton looked around the room, his intense gaze meeting every eye. “I don’t hold any of you responsible. It was a tragic accident.” His voice quivered so slightly that Corbin wondered if he’d only imagined it. “The one consolation is knowing Doug died serving his country and fellow SEALs.”

Corbin remembered Doug mentioning that Sutton was a Commodore in the Royal Navy. He would have a personal appreciation and respect for service to country and fellow comrades.

“Doug was a cut above the rest, the embodiment of excellence,” Zane said.

“Yes, he was. He never gave up on any of us.” Even when we gave up on ourselves , Corbin added mentally. It wasn’t until he saw the surprised looks that he realized he’d spoken out loud. He and Zane locked gazes and in his former commander’s eyes, he caught a glimpse of mutual understanding. At least that was one point on which he and Zane could agree. Doug was the best, the glue that held the team together.

“I’m assembling a special ops group of retired Navy SEALs. Our intent will be to help those whose problems fall outside the realm of traditional law enforcement. People who are backed in a corner with nowhere else to go for help.”

Zane grunted. “I think I speak for most of the guys here that under the circumstance …” he cleared his throat cutting his eyes at Corbin “… we don’t feel comfortable putting our lives in the hands of someone who’s so unpredictable.”

Heat burned over Corbin as his eyes narrowed. He was about to go on the rampage again, then saw the mixture of resentment and pity in Zane’s eyes. It hit him in that moment, had he been in Zane’s shoes, he’d probably say the same thing.

Sutton held up a hand. “Group is a loose term. You’ll work as independent contractors and will be paid per assignment. Additionally, each of you will receive a souped-up, black SUV with bulletproof windows. I have other security personnel that you can have access to, should you need their assistance. Other retired SEALs will be brought in as time goes on.”

Still smarting from the insults, Corbin’s mind raced in circles like a hamster in a ball. No clear destination in sight, but he had to keep running all the same. It wasn’t until Sutton got to the substantial sums of money they’d earn that he felt a quiver of excitement. This could be the start of a new career. The chance to do something useful. Also, it would be nice to earn some real money. Maybe get a new bike … take a trip somewhere warm. He was tired of the Colorado snow and sick of pinching pennies.

“How will you determine which assignments we’re given?” Zane asked. “Will it be done on an ‘as needed’ basis?”

“Good question. The jobs will be assigned according to your skill set.” Sutton punched the table with his finger. “You have my word that I’ll make sure you have every available resource you need to be successful.” He motioned. “And while it doesn’t look like it, this mansion is a veritable fortress ... a hub, from which we’ll conduct our business.”

Corbin’s eyes popped slightly thinking about the holding cell where he’d been detained. It had been solid as a tomb. There was no telling how many secret tunnels and areas ran through the mansion.

Sutton’s voice grew intense, his penetrating blue eyes scoping the room. “Gentlemen, in a small way, we’ll be paying homage to Doug, helping right some of the many wrongs in this tragic world.” He squared his jaw, straightening to his full height. “Let’s do this. The Warrior Project. Not only for Doug, but also for God and Country.”

Corbin’s chest burned with a new determination. He’d come into this room floundering, no real direction in his life. But now he had something he could sink his teeth into. An unexpected feeling of hope kindled in his chest. This could be a way to get the one thing he craved most … redemption. “The Warrior Project. For Doug, God and Country,” he repeated softly.