Quinn’s Battle (Team KOA Bravo #4)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Quinn Kennedy walked into the bar, wondering if he was becoming a joke. Probably more of a bad cliché. Sure, he and his friends had become regulars at Ohana’s since coming to the Big Island for a testing mission.

He put air quotes around the term in his head.

That was the joke and yes, he was part of it. They weren’t here to test or train. They were here to avoid repercussions, legal or otherwise.

Quinn and his three closest friends, all of them with decades of service as Navy SEALs, had found evidence that four other SEALs were abusing their operations and applying their skills in criminal enterprises.

He and his friends had stumbled upon evidence of stolen money and drugs. Impossible to know what else they’d been doing or for how long.

He might be in balmy paradise, but a chill iced his spine whenever he thought about what a disgrace they were to the teams.

They’d taken the information and evidence to their commanding officer, Hayden Castle, along with the sketchy crap that had been occurring on their recent ops. The conclusion was obvious. And awful. Castle worried that Quinn, Carter, Bowie, and Flint would be targeted. Likely, sooner rather than later.

Hunted in the civilian world by guys with skills equal to his own? No thank you. Killed in action so someone could count their stolen money? Not the way Quinn wanted to leave this world. Definitely not how he wanted his friends to go out.

Castle agreed wholeheartedly. Needing to get the four of them out of reach while he dug into the shady situation, he’d sent them to Hawaii. Mission accomplished. Out here it was more than geography keeping them safe. Quinn and his friends had an extra buffer of protection—the Brotherhood Protectors were hosting them. The private security group was founded by former SEAL Hank Patterson and led locally by Jace “Hawk” Hawkins. Quinn and the guys each had private cabins on the sweeping acreage that made up the largest cattle ranch in Hawaii. A ranch owned by the family of Hawk’s wife, Kalea Parkman.

They were supposedly here to test radio equipment. Equipment that had been blamed for the failures which had jeopardized their operational safety more than once. As far as their fake assignments went, the testing confirmed that the radios performed perfectly under a variety of challenging conditions.

Which led him to the grim conclusion that if they’d remained near their base, they might all be dead by now.

Quinn couldn’t speak for his closest friends, but that uncomfortable awareness sure as hell changed his outlook on his future with the teams.

What they did required trust.

The military had invested in Quinn, training him to stare death in the face and overcome any obstacle. He’d been conditioned to operate through mental and physical pain, to assess risk and problem-solve for the sole reward of a mission success.

He had honorably served the Navy and he was proud of his service with the SEAL teams. He refused to let some greedy bastards take the shine off years of doing the job well. Every organization had a few bad apples. What sucked was feeling caught in the middle. He’d been in Hawaii for six weeks now and thanks to Hawk, he had a taste of what life could be after the Navy. But he also felt an increasing obligation to go back—once Castle gave the all clear—and make sure the organization stayed clean.

Not forever, obviously. He was closer to retirement than he wanted to admit. But better to go back than leave criminals in place thinking they were untouchable.

Castle kept telling Quinn and the others to hang in there. Be patient. He assured them he was making progress.

Quinn believed him, but it wasn’t enough. He and his friends trusted Castle to handle the situation, to make sure those five criminal bastards were court-martialed and locked up in a military prison. Sure as hell, there were worse places to sit in limbo than Hawaii. He was here in a friendly bar, ready for a beer and maybe a few rounds of darts.

Too bad there weren’t any axe-throwing lanes at Ohana’s. The challenge appealed to him tonight.

He glanced around the bar, looking for his friends and not seeing anyone. Right. Because they were probably out doing other things with the new women they’d met in this same bar. Quinn couldn’t blame them for grabbing hold of as much happiness as they could, especially when things were so weird and uncertain. Hell, they all excelled in those scenarios.

If SEALs knew anything, it was how to adapt.

A breeze blew through the open windows and across the covered patio, the ever-present salty ocean air a balm to his restlessness.

He had decisions to make, starting with the reenlistment paperwork he and the others were considering. Their deadline was fast approaching—only two weeks away. Quinn wasn’t sure he wanted to go back. Could he be an asset on the teams? Technically, sure. His skills and fitness were in peak condition.

Could he do it without Carter, Bowie, and Flint?

That was the breaking point. Quinn just didn’t know if he could extend the trust required to operate with another team. Not after this mess.

After the discrepancies and the near-misses they’d endured recently, Quinn was confident his trust wouldn’t stretch beyond his friends and Castle. He wasn’t open to any more risk. Although, he’d come to respect and count on Hawk and the local Brotherhood Protectors, so maybe he shouldn’t write off a return to service.

Annoyed with his waffling thoughts, Quinn crossed to the bar and settled into a stool closest to the kitchen. With any luck, his favorite bartender, Dahlia Palmer, would be working tonight. She’d made Quinn feel welcome here at Ohana’s. Of course, that was her job, but she was also becoming a friend, because somehow her closest friends had paired up with his best pals.

These past weeks, watching Carter, Bowie, and Flint get involved with fascinating local women left Quinn wondering if his sizzling attraction for Dahlia was more about keeping up with the guys.

Lowering to think he might be that immature, but he didn’t want to move forward and make things awkward for everyone for the duration of their stay on the Big Island.

The kitchen door swung open and Dahlia walked through, all smiles and sparkling eyes. Her curves were showcased to perfection in a colorful shirt that knotted in a sexy tie at her waist, showing off a tantalizing strip of tanned skin above her shorts.

His mouth went dry. Thinking about those curves kept him up at night.

He’d been surfing with her several times in recent weeks when he and his friends met up with Dahlia and hers at their favorite spot. He still could not figure out why that narrow glimpse was almost more fascinating than seeing her in body-hugging surf gear.

His pulse kicked. Hard. His attraction to her was specific and had nothing to do with what his friends were doing. Besides, he’d likely return to the teams in a couple of weeks. How awkward could things get?

Dahlia was a stunner with short dark hair, sharp green eyes, and curves that didn’t quit. Quinn knew she’d been born and raised here on the Big Island and she worked the bar here at Ohana’s and took on extra shifts at the resort. Beyond that, he didn’t know much more than surface details: she rode a motorcycle, she was currently single, and her brothers drove her crazy at times.

What the hell was he waiting for? He’d made a point of living life with no regrets.

Her smile brightened, turned a little warmer, as she passed him on her way to deliver food to another customer. Something about the expression solidified his decision.

About time. He ignored the voice in his head. He’d had a lot going on these past weeks.

The voice snorted and he ignored it harder.

Now he just had to figure out where to take her. She was local, with better insight on where to catch waves, where to eat, and where to go for fun. But he felt an obligation to make the plans if he was the one doing the asking.

She worked her way to his end of the bar, pausing once to check her phone. Then she was in front of him. “Quinn. How’s it going?”

“It’s a good day,” he said. Best not to blurt out all the crap that left him unsettled. He wanted something more than the standard bartender-customer connection.

She tilted her head to the stage. “Any day that our girl Moana Kahale takes the stage is a great day. I’m glad she’s home to stay,” Dahlia admitted quietly.

Because Moana and Dahlia were close, Quinn had heard bits and pieces about the events that pushed Moana back home after building a songwriting career out in Nashville, Tennessee.

“Maybe Waylen will join in tonight,” Dahlia continued. “The two of them can really get the tips flowing.”

Quinn didn’t know Waylen well. The man was a former SEAL, a co-owner of this bar and had his own ties to the Brotherhood Protectors. And, in a move that had apparently shocked everyone, he recently revealed serious musical talents. “They sure have a good time entertaining the rest of us,” he said.

Dahlia slid a pint of his favorite beer in front of him. “We’re lucky to have so much local talent just hanging around at the ready.”

Quinn agreed with her.

She checked her phone again, a frown puckering her brow, then she tucked it away and focused on her customers. He sipped his beer, thinking about what kind of date would be most likely to tempt her into going out with him.

Assuming she was interested.

“Geez man,” Bowie walked up and slapped him on the shoulder. “Quit mooning over her and ask her out.”

Quinn shrugged him off. He was forty. And he wasn’t mooning over Dahlia or anyone else. “Did you find a time machine? That phrase went out of use in the 1950s.”

“It didn’t. I just used it.”

Hard to argue with that. In general, there wasn’t much point in arguing with Bowie when he had his mind set. “We’ll be gone in a couple weeks.” Quinn sipped his beer, doing his damndest to pretend Dahlia didn’t matter.

“I didn’t tell you to marry her.” Bowie winced. “That was cold, sorry.”

Quinn waved off his concern. “Ancient history,” he said. Almost twenty years, in fact, since his fiancée had left him standing at the altar.

Bowie studied Dahlia for a second. “Although you could do worse.”

Of course, his friend would assume everyone was into life-long commitments. Bowie was a warrior firmly entrenched in traditional values. The product of a stable Navy family, he had no qualms about wanting the same stability for himself. Eventually.

Quinn amended that eventually. Since meeting Moana, it looked like Bowie had found his forever person. His friend’s intensity and focus remained high, but there was contentment as well. A peacefulness that had certainly been missing when they’d initially arrived in Hawaii.

As much as Quinn loved Bowie like a brother, they had vastly differing views on relationships. In Bowie’s life, people cared. They stayed. In Quinn’s personal experience, abandonment was a common theme.

The only people who hadn’t shoved him away or walked out were his brothers in arms: Bowie, Carter, and Flint. Everyone else was second-tier and, therefore, not to be fully trusted or relied upon.

“Seriously.” Bowie leaned against the bar. “You’ve been about as subtle as a heart attack when it comes to Dahlia. She caught your attention the minute we landed. That’s pretty rare for you.”

Quinn didn’t reply. He didn’t want to confirm it and he sure as hell didn’t want to lie. That was the ever-present danger of close friends—they had a keen insight.

He didn’t get too excited about any singular person anymore. His wrecked wedding was just one reason. A symptom really. The catalyst went way back to an era Quinn kept locked away in his memory. Better to focus on what he had and keep his mind on what was good: his friends and his work.

“Want me to ask her for you? Pass her a note?”

Quinn shook his head, although Bowie surely had some insider information seeing as Moana and Dahlia were close. “Let it go,” he said. “I can take care of myself.”

His friend whistled. “That’s exactly the point. It’s always more fun when you have someone to help with that.”

Quinn picked up his beer and moved away from the bar. The last thing he wanted was Dahlia overhearing this ridiculous conversation. “You’re a menace,” he grumbled.

“Which is only one more reason you love me.”

Quinn laughed. Bowie’s irreverent attitude was always an excellent tension reliever.

“Look man, if you want to go out with her, ask. She’s a big girl. She’ll tell you if she’s not into you or isn’t into a temporary fling.”

Bowie made a good point, giving Quinn more to consider as the two of them joined Carter and Flint at their usual table. He hung out with his buddies for a while, keeping an eye on Dahlia and thinking about what kind of date she might enjoy.

The woman rode a motorcycle, she surfed, and she tended bar in at least two different locations. Quinn liked motorcycles too. While his friends talked around him, he pulled out his phone and did a search for rental options and day trip ideas.

Armed with better information, he sat back and enjoyed the music until Moana finished her first set. Then he waited, anticipation building, through the first break that kept Dahlia hopping to serve thirsty patrons.

As the rush died down, he returned to the bar just as she ducked into the kitchen, phone to her ear.

Well hell. Maybe he’d waited too long and she was dating someone. Being a regular these past six weeks and surfing with her occasionally didn’t equate to knowing her personal business.

It could well be a family issue. He didn’t know jack about dealing with those. He drained his beer and placed the empty on the bar top as if that was the only reason he’d approached.

On his way back to the table, his cell phone rang. Seeing Hawk’s number on the screen, Quinn answered immediately.

“Are you at Ohana’s?” Hawk asked in lieu of any greeting.

“I am. Is there a problem?”

“Maybe. Cassie called. She’s concerned about Dahlia. Can you do me a favor without drawing attention?”

“Name it,” Quinn said.

Cassie Marner ran a special security office at the resort where she lived with Lane Benning, another retired SEAL and one of the new co-owners of Ohana’s. Lane and his friends were new additions to Hawk’s team.

“Is Dahlia working the bar tonight?”

“Yes,” Quinn replied, deliberately keeping his gaze away from the bar. “I’m on the patio outside,” he added, moving that direction.

“Cassie tells me Dahlia reported concerns about two men, repeat customers at the resort. One recently visited Ohana’s. Aside from descriptions and the record of when they show up each month, Dahlia claims the men are sketchy.”

The hair lifted on the back of Quinn’s neck. He looked around at the customers, trying to get a read on anyone who might not belong.

“She gave Cassie enough to start looking into it and one of the men is a lawyer, Morton, with loose ties to organized crime. The other is a complete unknown.”

Quinn managed not to swear out loud. “How can I help?”

“Keep an eye on Dahlia. Cassie assures me she knows how to stay safe, but until we can figure out why the men are frequenting both places?—”

“On it.” He didn’t have to think it over. If Dahlia needed protection or just someone watching her back, he’d gladly take on that role.

“Lane, as an invested co-owner, also asked that we take care of his best bartender.”

“Tell him not to worry.”

“Be careful, Quinn. For you and her.”

Hawk didn’t issue those warnings without reason. “Yes, sir.” He swallowed. Watching her behind the bar, he could see now that she was braced for trouble. “Any operational parameters?”

“Do whatever you need to do. Just keep her safe.”

Music to his ears. “Yes, sir.”

“Hawk’s fine,” he said with a huff that might’ve been a laugh. “And keep me up to speed if there’s any kind of trouble.”

When the call ended, Quinn paused to study the two pictures that Hawk texted. One man oozed money, the other had a hard edge. Neither man was familiar to him, but until now, he hadn’t had a reason to pay attention.

Carter walked up, his eyebrows raised. “Castle?”

“Um, no.” Quinn shook his head.

Carter grunted. “I was hoping you had news.”

Weren’t they all? “Last I heard it was more of the same. He’s making progress,” Quinn said. “Are you worried?”

“No point in worrying,” Carter said, his gaze sharp. “He can take down those bastards. I’m just thinking about Mia and the next steps.”

Quinn heard it in Carter’s voice. He’d grown comfortable in Hawaii. “You’re not planning to re-up are you?”

“Are you?” Carter challenged.

Quinn started back toward their table, skirting around the folks dancing as Moana belted out a heart-aching ballad.

He slid into the booth, taking the side that gave him a view of the bar. Carter knocked on the table top in front of him. “Answer the question.”

“What’s the problem?” Flint interjected.

“Quinn thinks we should sign the re-enlistment papers.”

Flint’s eyebrows arched.

“Settle down. I didn’t say that. Carter’s misinterpreting.”

“What did you say?” Bowie asked. “For clarity.”

Quinn stifled a sigh. “I made a guess that he’s not planning to re-up. No judgment and sure as hell not a big deal, so relax.”

“When did we decide to stay?” Flint asked, looking at each of them in turn. “Did Castle send up a flare?”

“No,” Carter replied firmly. “Quinn is making assumptions.”

Quinn kept his mouth shut. Protesting only felt like one of those no-win, circular sibling fights. How many times did he have to tell them he wasn’t going back unless those five were locked up?

Bowie cleared his throat. “Well, I’m just gonna say it right now. If we’re not all going back, I’m done.”

There was a stunned silence all around the table before Flint and Carter lobbed agreement and support at Bowie. Quinn let them talk, squashing a sliver of envy. They had relationships now, deeper considerations that should factor into their choices.

Quinn had an assignment and as Dahlia ducked into the kitchen once more, he left his friends to follow her.