Ashley’s first night had been uneventful, but mostly because she’d retreated to her RV. After unpacking her gear, she’d taken her dinner back to her trailer—the mess was serving pre-made sandwiches since campers would be arriving all through the evening hours—and gone to bed early. She was hoping to get her body attuned to the eastern time zone as quickly as possible.
Now, as the campers gathered in the sandy clearing outside of the mess hall in the dawn light, Bull had approached her to ask if she was one of the instructor’s girlfriends, hired on for the session as kitchen help.
She was dressed exactly as he was—in running shorts and sneakers, since they’d been told the session would kick off with a group run.
When she’d told him, “No,” and gone back to stretching, he’d then asked, “What, so you’re a local hire, then?”
She’d finally told him what should’ve been obvious, “I’m here as a camper. Just like you.”
Bull had laughed at that—first in astonishment, and then in horror. “Please God don’t let her be on our team,” he said to his buddy Todd, but loudly enough for Ash to hear him. “Most of us are here to get away from babysitting lesser-thans. Jesus. Just what we need. A girl on the team. Although, I’ve always said that the only thing this place is lacking is a few strategically placed camp followers, heh-heh, if you know what I mean. How about it, Ashley? You up for making some Benjamins on the side, in a little late night one-on-one?”
As the two men laughed, Ashley didn’t respond—she just drifted away. Although, when she looked up, the big SEAL instructor named Lieutenant Slade was watching her closely. He was standing there, planted like a tree, legs slightly spread, big arms folded across his broad chest. He had on cargo shorts today—and had support braces on both knees.
“Listen up, people!” Dunk sped around the camp in an electric vehicle that was a cross between a golf cart and a dune buggy—the tires were designed to handle the soft sand—and he now stood on the driver’s seat, holding onto the roll bar to address the campers.
There were twenty-five of them gathered there—and Ash was indeed the only woman.
What drugs had she been on, when she’d thought coming here would be a good idea…?
“This run is not a contest or a race,” Dunk said.
“This is totally both a contest and a race.” Ash turned to see that Bull had followed her. Great.
“Your task today is to get a baseline,” Dunk continued. “With this run, and with all of the activities throughout the day.”
“It’s all a contest,” Bull also continued. “Up at the range, in the pool, and running the O-course, too—although I’ll bet you’re great at the O. Uhhh, ohhh, uhnnn!” He made orgasm sounds. “Except, oops, it’s not that kind of O. Too bad, huh? I’m pretty freaking good atthatkind of O, myself. Happy to show you, anytime you want…”
God.Ashley moved away from him.
“We’re also looking to create teams,” Dunk continued. “We will be grouping you with six other men—” he caught himself “—otherpeoplewho have different skills set than you. So you may not complete this run with the fastest time. That’s okay. You might instead excel in the obstacle course, or up at the shooting range.”
Shootingrange. Ashley was dismayed. That’s what Bull had meant byrange. She was not at all interested in learning how to fire a gun.
“If you have not yet disclosed any recent injuries or physical limitations please do so now,” Dunk continued as Ashley once more moved away from Bull. She tried to focus on listening as the former senior chief ran through the fine-print of the agreement that everyone should’ve already read, and then introduced them to Lieutenant Thomas King, the camp’s almost impossibly young hospital corpsman—which was apparently Navy-Speak formedic.
Dunk then introduced the other SEAL instructors. In addition to Lieutenants King and Slade, there was a Lieutenant O’Donlon and a Petty Officer Rosetti. O’Donlon was gleaming and golden, while Rosetti was possibly even younger than Lieutenant King—or maybe that was just an illusion because he was compact and wiry compared to the taller men.
And yet Jim Slade towered over them all….
“I want to stress the fact that our hospital corpsman, Lieutenant King, will be floating free,” Dunk was still saying, “and—I repeat—his authority will override your instructor’sandyour team leader’s.”
“Team leaders…?” Wait, weren’t the instructors the team leaders, but crap, Ashley had actually spoken aloud, and Bull had heard her.
“Each team elects a leader from the campers,” he told her. “You should totally volunteer to do it. It’s fun.”
Now, why did she get the sense that it would be anythingbut…? Ashley moved away from him again as Dunk ran through the last of the rules—what would happen if a camper decided to drop out.
“If, at any time, you suddenly doubt your ability to make it through the program,” he told them, “we urge you to talk to an instructor about modifications that can and will be made to the various exercises. Trust me, we can make it work—said the man with one leg.” He laughed. “I’m hopeful this class will indeed trust me, but history says that two of you will be gone by tonight; another two by tomorrow, and five more by Monday. Don’t let it be you.”
“Or do.” Bull was back. He was standing so close, his breath moved the tendrils of hair on Ashley’s neck. “Dolet it be you.”
***
Ashley didn’t move. She just closed her eyes and waited for Dunk to signal the start of the run.
All during Dunk’s speech, Jim had watched the big idiot with the shaved head and the camo-print T-shirt pursue the woman. She’d kept moving away from him, yet he’d followed and followed again. From the smirk on the man’s fugly face, and from the color in Ashley’s cheeks, Jim knew that he was being a total tool.
Dunk had warned Jim about the guy. His nickname was Bull, and he and his friend Todd had attended SEAL World twice before. On a scale of zero to douche, he was a double-douche.
