Frisco's Kid
FRISCO'S KIDBeing a Navy SEAL is more than a career to Alan "Frisco" Francisco–it is his whole world. So when a bullet wound threatens his future in the Navy, he is determined to achieve a full recovery…all on his own. But his lovely neighbor Mia Summerton has other plans for him. She can't mend his wounded body, but can she heal his heart?
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New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann has thrilled audiences with her Tall, Dark and Dangerous series. Experience it here with a hero who must face the most daring adventure of allâfalling in love.
His body may heal, but his heart is another storyâ¦
Being a Navy SEAL is more than a career to Alan âFriscoâ Franciscoâitâs his whole identity. But when a severe injury threatens Friscoâs ability to function in combat, heâs determined to achieve a full recovery.
But the unexpected appearance of his abandoned niece leaves Frisco with little time for anything but dealing with the five-year-old girl. He knows even less about parenting than he does about how to mend his broken body. And thereâs no way heâs going to accept offers of help from his interfering neighbor, Mia Summerton. He doesnât need anyoneâs help. Not to care for his niece, not to accept his limitations and certainly not to fall in love.
For my cousin, Elise Kramer,
who played with and loved my mother, then me, and now my children, too, as if we were her own kids. With all my love, Elise, this oneâs for you.
CONTENTS
Friscoâs knee was on fire.
He had to lean heavily on his cane to get from the shower to the room he shared with three other vets, and still his leg hurt like hell with every step he took.
But pain was no big deal. Pain had been part of Navy Lt. Alan âFriscoâ Franciscoâs everyday life since his leg had damn near been blown off more than five years ago during a covert rescue operation. The pain he could handle.
It was this cane that he couldnât stand.
It was the fact that his knee wouldnâtâcouldnâtâsupport his full weight or fully extend that made him crazy.
It was a warm California day, so he pulled on a pair of shorts, well aware that they wouldnât hide the raw, ugly scars on his knee.
His latest surgery had been attempted only a few months ago. Theyâd cut him open all over again, trying, like Humpty Dumpty, to put all the pieces back together. After the required hospital stay, heâd been sent here, to this physical therapy center, to build up strength in his leg, and to see if the operation had workedâto see if he had more flexibility in his injured joint.
But his doctor had been no more successful than the legendary Kingâs horses and Kingâs men. The operation hadnât improved Friscoâs knee. His doctor couldnât put Frisco together again.
There was a knock on the door, and it opened a crack.
âYo, Frisco, you in here?â
It was Lt. Joe Catalanotto, the commander of SEAL Team Tenâs Alpha Squadâthe squad to which, an aeon of pain and frustration and crushed hopes ago, Frisco had once belonged.
âWhere else would I be?â Frisco said.
He saw Joe react to his bitter words, saw the bigger manâs jaw tighten as he came into the room, closing the door behind him. He could see the look in Joeâs dark eyesâa look of wary reserve. Frisco had always been the optimist of Alpha Squad. His attitude had always been upbeat and friendly. Wherever they went, Frisco had been out in the street, making friends with the locals. Heâd been the first one smiling, the man whoâd make jokes before a high-altitude parachute jump, relieving the tension, making everyone laugh.
But Frisco wasnât laughing now. Heâd stopped laughing five years ago, when the doctors had walked into his hospital room and told him his leg would never be the same. Heâd never walk again.
At first heâd approached it with the same upbeat, optimistic attitude heâd always had. Heâd never walk again? Wanna make a bet? He was going to do more than walk again. He was going to bring himself back to active duty as a SEAL. He was going to run and jump and dive. No question.
It had taken years of intense focus, operations and physical therapy. Heâd been bounced back and forth from hospitals to physical therapy centers to hospitals and back again. Heâd fought long and hard, and he could walk again.
But he couldnât run. He could do little more than limp along with his caneâand his doctors warned him against doing too much of that. His knee couldnât support his weight, they told him. The pain that he stoically ignored was a warning signal. If he wasnât careful, heâd lose what little use he did have of his leg.
And that wasnât good enough.
Because until he could run, he couldnât be a SEAL again.
Five years of disappointment and frustration and failure had worn at Friscoâs optimism and upbeat attitude. Five years of itching to return to the excitement of his life as a Navy SEAL; of being placed into temporary retirement with no real, honest hope of being put back into active duty; of watching as Alpha Squad replaced himâreplaced him; of shuffling along when he burned to run. All those years had worn him down. He wasnât upbeat anymore. He was depressed. And frustrated. And angry as hell.
