Read Online SEAL Under Covers (SEAL Brotherhood Series Book 3) by Sharon Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Sharon Hamilton
Tags: Suspense, Romance, Contemporary, series, Military, romantic suspense, New Adult & College, Mystery & Suspense
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frog.
Cooper grinned. “Hell, Armani, I was just thinkin’ of going for a swim. You up for that?”
Jones had wrinkled his nose.
Fredo had noticed too, and added, “Jones, you gotta understand, this is a tradition. We love our midnight swims as much as we love our midnight HALO jumps. Right guys?”
There was a general mumbling in the affirmative.
Fredo continued. “We do this at least once a week. I do believe it’s been about that, maybe even two weeks since our last midnight swim.”
“I don’t like it much in the daytime, or anytime for that matter,” Jones said. With his dark complexion, all Armando could see was the LT’s white teeth. “Growing up in Mississippi, I stayed away from watering holes and such. Good way to get bit by a water snake or get yourself tied to a tree by some frisky white boys.”
“Frisky white boys?” Fredo asked.
“We’re talking Mississippi. Not many Mexicans there when I was growing up, not that it would have made much difference. Things are different now.” Jones took another sip of his beer. No one was going to touch that comment.
Marky Mark turned to Armando. “Lannie say where we was goin’ next week, Armani?”
“Nope,” he answered. “I asked him, do we take our fins and trunks, our gloves and parkas, or our cash?”
“Guess we’ll find out the evening before,” Coop concluded.
“Roger that. We’s on a Need. To. Know,” Fredo said.
Cooper crunched down ice from his mineral water. He uncurled his lanky, six-foot-four body and bowed to the group. “Well, I need to be going home and get some face time with the wifey. Got a big day tomorrow. Moving into our new house. I promised Libby I’d be home early to help with the last-minute packing.”
“Why?” Fredo asked. “You can put everything you got in that Babemobile in the back of my truck. And everyone here knows you aren’t gonna get any sleep tonight.”
Armando chuckled.
Fredo shot his heels up into the air. “Oh, Cooper, let me push against this wall so you can get deep. Oh. Oh. Oh. Ooooooh!” Fredo crooned. Beale and Jones began rocking in their chairs as if the motorhome Cooper lived in was rocking under them.
Cooper’s enormous frame cast a long shadow as he came to tower above the little group. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
No one heeded his warning.
Cooper tried again. “That sounds like you banging one of your professionals, Fredo. You listening in for pointers when I’m not paying attention?”
“Hell no, Coop, we can hear it all the way to Ducky’s. We sit out there and lick our cones while you’re getting your dick polished off,” Beale inserted.
“Well said, Marky Mark. You a legend, Coop.” Jones appeared to be glad the focus was off the swimming.
Cooper made a gesture like he was loosening his hips, doing a slow, gyrating hula for everyone to admire. “Tough job, but someone’s gotta do it. I’m working on a little Cooper. Sort of a housewarming present for my new bride.”
The group broke into laughter and several Teammates whistled their approval. With the tension reduced, Armando watched his supersized Teammate walk down the street to the motorcycle parking. He put on a flowered helmet that belonged to Libby and kick-started a red Vespa. He looked ridiculous, hunched over the handlebars, riding the lawnmower motor off into the night.
“He still hasn’t bought a truck? He’s been talking about it for weeks now,” Fredo barked.
Beale leaned forward and received his new beer, winking at the waitress. “Libby’s dad gave him a new truck for a wedding present. He doesn’t like the gas mileage.”
Armando leaned back in the chair and looked up at the stars. He wished his family problems were about trucks and gas mileage and a wife who wanted to get pregnant. He wondered if life would ever be that normal for him.
But good for Coop. If it can happen for you, buddy, maybe there’s hope for me after all.
Chapter 7
Next morning in the squad room
Cooper grinned. “Hell, Armani, I was just thinkin’ of going for a swim. You up for that?”
Jones had wrinkled his nose.
Fredo had noticed too, and added, “Jones, you gotta understand, this is a tradition. We love our midnight swims as much as we love our midnight HALO jumps. Right guys?”
There was a general mumbling in the affirmative.
Fredo continued. “We do this at least once a week. I do believe it’s been about that, maybe even two weeks since our last midnight swim.”
“I don’t like it much in the daytime, or anytime for that matter,” Jones said. With his dark complexion, all Armando could see was the LT’s white teeth. “Growing up in Mississippi, I stayed away from watering holes and such. Good way to get bit by a water snake or get yourself tied to a tree by some frisky white boys.”
“Frisky white boys?” Fredo asked.
“We’re talking Mississippi. Not many Mexicans there when I was growing up, not that it would have made much difference. Things are different now.” Jones took another sip of his beer. No one was going to touch that comment.
Marky Mark turned to Armando. “Lannie say where we was goin’ next week, Armani?”
“Nope,” he answered. “I asked him, do we take our fins and trunks, our gloves and parkas, or our cash?”
“Guess we’ll find out the evening before,” Coop concluded.
“Roger that. We’s on a Need. To. Know,” Fredo said.
Cooper crunched down ice from his mineral water. He uncurled his lanky, six-foot-four body and bowed to the group. “Well, I need to be going home and get some face time with the wifey. Got a big day tomorrow. Moving into our new house. I promised Libby I’d be home early to help with the last-minute packing.”
“Why?” Fredo asked. “You can put everything you got in that Babemobile in the back of my truck. And everyone here knows you aren’t gonna get any sleep tonight.”
Armando chuckled.
Fredo shot his heels up into the air. “Oh, Cooper, let me push against this wall so you can get deep. Oh. Oh. Oh. Ooooooh!” Fredo crooned. Beale and Jones began rocking in their chairs as if the motorhome Cooper lived in was rocking under them.
Cooper’s enormous frame cast a long shadow as he came to tower above the little group. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
No one heeded his warning.
Cooper tried again. “That sounds like you banging one of your professionals, Fredo. You listening in for pointers when I’m not paying attention?”
“Hell no, Coop, we can hear it all the way to Ducky’s. We sit out there and lick our cones while you’re getting your dick polished off,” Beale inserted.
“Well said, Marky Mark. You a legend, Coop.” Jones appeared to be glad the focus was off the swimming.
Cooper made a gesture like he was loosening his hips, doing a slow, gyrating hula for everyone to admire. “Tough job, but someone’s gotta do it. I’m working on a little Cooper. Sort of a housewarming present for my new bride.”
The group broke into laughter and several Teammates whistled their approval. With the tension reduced, Armando watched his supersized Teammate walk down the street to the motorcycle parking. He put on a flowered helmet that belonged to Libby and kick-started a red Vespa. He looked ridiculous, hunched over the handlebars, riding the lawnmower motor off into the night.
“He still hasn’t bought a truck? He’s been talking about it for weeks now,” Fredo barked.
Beale leaned forward and received his new beer, winking at the waitress. “Libby’s dad gave him a new truck for a wedding present. He doesn’t like the gas mileage.”
Armando leaned back in the chair and looked up at the stars. He wished his family problems were about trucks and gas mileage and a wife who wanted to get pregnant. He wondered if life would ever be that normal for him.
But good for Coop. If it can happen for you, buddy, maybe there’s hope for me after all.
Chapter 7
Next morning in the squad room
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