Somebody’s Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  “Who joined you to make up your team?”

  “Two other Marines and a Navy Corpsman who had served with me while in the Corps, none of us active duty.”

  “Why didn’t you let the authorities handle the case?”

  Adam took a deep breath, turning toward Gentry before answering. “Because we knew what he was capable of—and no disrespect to law enforcement,” he added after returning his attention to Sullivan, “we thought we could handle things more efficiently ourselves. Considering that we achieved our mission, I’d say we made the right decision.”

  Indeed, they had.

  During cross-examination, Savannah held her breath. So far, the defense had tried to discredit every expert who had come to the stand. There was no telling what would stick with the jurors, if anything. Perhaps the cumulative effect would leave enough doubt for them to let that bastard go scot-free.

  Abbott buttoned his suit coat as he approached the podium. Savannah held her breath.

  “When you arrived, Master Sergeant Montague, did you confront the defendant physically?”

  “Yes. We needed to get Gentry away from Savannah as quickly as possible and subdue him so that we could administer medical aid and get her out of the situation pronto.”

  “What type of force did you use?”

  “The riveted flogger was shot out of his hand, and he was thrown up against a wall. Then I took over watching the prisoner while Savannah’s injuries were tended to.”

  “So the defendant was shot by one of your team members?”

  “No. Not then, anyway. The flogger was shot from his hand by my finest marksman without leaving a scratch.”

  Savannah had been so out of it she hadn’t known how the rescue had gone down. Hearing about their heroics only made her more proud of them all.

  “Did you receive training in interrogation and torture techniques, Master Sergeant Montague?”

  “All recon Marines go through SERE training, sir.”

  “SERE?”

  “Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape training school.”

  “And during this training, you were taught ways in which to torture prisoners and combatants?”

  “We were taught ways to withstand torture in the event we were ever captured by combatants,” Adam clarified.

  “And did you use any of those tactics on the defendant during the raid?”

  “No, sir,” he answered without hesitation.

  Abbott’s eyes opened wider. Did he know something she didn’t? More likely, Gentry had made something up.

  “You didn’t threaten the defendant verbally or physically beyond that initial encounter when you entered the cabin?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. That we did. We didn’t use SERE tactics on him, though.”

  Abbott sighed. “Would you tell the court in what way you did threaten the defendant?”

  Adam glanced briefly at Damián, who stiffened beside her. Then his gaze returned to the defense attorney. “First, I threw him across the room to another wall to get him away from Savannah and my team. Then I shoved him to the floor when he didn’t take the hint where I wanted him to be.” Several people chuckled at his description, but she wasn’t sure if they were in the gallery or on the jury.

  “Anything else?”

  “I told him to shut the fuck up.” Adam glanced at the judge. “Pardon my language, but that’s a direct quote for the record.” The judge nodded, seeming to bite back a grin himself. Adam returned his attention to Abbott. “And when he called his daughter a filthy whore, I punched him in the mouth.”

  More laughter erupted in the courtroom, but Abbott didn’t give it time to build before trying to drown it out. “Any other altercations between the defendant and you or your team members?”

  “Yes, sir. When Gentry pulled out a .22, another team member shot the gun out of his hand. That time, we drew blood, but not before Gentry’s bullet lodged into the leg of the man who is now Savannah’s husband, a Marine who’d already lost his foot in Iraq.”

  Savannah glanced at the jury and noticed a couple of people glaring at Gentry for shooting an already wounded veteran. Perhaps Adam was winning over the hearts and minds of some of the jury, but it was too early to tell.

  As if the defense attorney had seen that reaction, too, he hastened to say, “No further questions, Your Honor.” When the DA indicated there would be no redirect, both attorneys released Adam, and he was excused by the judge.

  The judge advised him that he could remain in the courtroom for the remainder of the trial, if he wished. Savannah was surprised that Gentry would allow his attorney to let Adam stay in here where he could serve as support for her. But what more could Adam possibly testify about?

  She and Damián scooted over to make room for Adam, and she squeezed his hand in a silent thank you. Shortly after four, the DA asked to continue with her next witness Monday morning. The judge adjourned court.

  Would it be her turn next?

  Savannah turned to give Adam a big hug. “Thank you for being there for me—back then and again today.”

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, hon. Either time.”

  When she separated from him, Damián wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. She realized they had two whole days off. Two days to worry about giving her testimony or, better yet, to find diversions. While Adam planned to fly home tomorrow to see Karla and the babies, she and Damián would be staying out here for the duration. She wasn’t supposed to be on a plane any more than necessary and only in an emergency.

  Savannah suggested, “Why don’t we go to dinner?”

  “Listen, kids, hope you don’t mind me skipping out on you, but I’ve got an appointment to meet up with someone from a local contracting operation.”

  Contracting? Adam was planning to hire a builder?

  “What’s up?” Damián asked.

  “I’m thinking of starting up a VIP and personal security business in Denver next year.”

  Oh, that kind of contracting. Was he hurting for money? Savannah would have to talk with Karla later. Adam would be too proud to tell her about any financial difficulties, but she had the means to help their extended family and didn’t see any reason not to put the offer out there.

  “I had no idea you wanted to do something like that,” Damián said, seeming a little more interested than Savannah liked. She preferred he spend his time at his Harley shop—and with her and Mari.

  “Three babies in diapers all needing college funds is enough to drag any man out of retirement. Derek Reed’s picking me up at five-fifteen in front of the courthouse and said he’d get me back to Pendleton tonight.”

  Ah, normal financial worries then.

  As they walked out of the courtroom toward the exit, she said, “You know, Adam, you can count on us to help any way we can. My financial adviser says I need to find some creative ways to invest Maman’s money, so if you need venture capital, just say the word.”

  Adam grinned. “I might take you up on that, Savannah, but only if I know I can make a go of this and that you’ll see a return on your investment.”

  “Adam, you of all people will succeed at anything you try.” They paused on the sidewalk outside the courthouse. “After all, I’ve heard nothing but praise from the guys and Grant about the way you ran your Marine unit. And they tell me you did most of the work getting the Masters at Arms going. There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll be equally successful at this, if you put your mind to it.”

  “Appreciate the vote of confidence. We’ll talk more back in Denver, after I find out how much I’ll need as seed money in addition to my savings.”

  “What do you know about Reed’s organization?” Damián asked, always protective of his substitute dad.

  “He and I have a mutual friend, Jerry Patterson, who runs the club in LA that I modeled the Masters at Arms after. I think you might remember the place, Damián.” Adam gave him a teasing grin.

  Damián’s gaze shifted quickly to Savannah as
if to see her reaction before returning to Adam. “Yeah. Marc took me there once…just before we deployed.”

  No doubt, they’d gone there to relieve some understandable anxiety before going off to war. That they’d visited such a place as active-duty Marines surprised her. Didn’t they have a code of ethics they were supposed to adhere to? Whatever, Savannah couldn’t fault him for going because she hadn’t been a part of his life at the time. She squeezed his hand to let him know she didn’t care about his past adventures in the BDSM world. He was her Dom now.

  “Anyway, Jerry used to do contract and security work in Southern California, so I asked him for a referral. Reed’s a retired SEAL master chief, which means I already know I can respect the hell out of him and trust he’ll be a straight shooter. From our phone call last week, sounds like Reed’s operation is a little more all-encompassing than what I plan to take on. Like Gunnar’s Forseti Group, AdEPT takes on missions and clients in hot spots all over the world.”

  “Karla would kill you if you left her home that long with three babies,” Damián pointed out.

  He’d beaten Savannah to stating the obvious. Besides, if anything happened to Adam, what would Karla do?

  “Nobody has to tell me that shit’s a younger man’s game. I’m only interested in the personal, VIP, and event security arms of this type of organization. I’ll mostly be a desk jockey, not someone out in the field again. But before I jump into anything, I’d like to see what all such an operation might entail.”

  “Did you talk with Gunnar?”

  Adam laughed. “He’s way out of my league. I’ll be small potatoes in comparison. Local shit only.”

  “Smart thinking,” Damián said with a nod. “You’ll let me know if I can do anything to help?”

  “Roger that.”

  Damián glanced at Savannah and winked, which totally confused her. He’d better not be volunteering his services as a security guard or worse anytime soon. They had a baby on the way, and she didn’t want him getting hurt doing anything dangerous.

  Damián brought her attention back to the conversation. “I guess we’ll see you tonight. Will you need a lift to the airport in the morning?”

  “No. You sleep in. I’ll be catching a ride with someone I found on the base message boards who has a flight out at about the same time. Nobody else needs to be up at four o’clock to head to the airport.”

  “Well, if that falls through, we’re right across the hall.” Damián smiled at her. “Now, Savannah and I are going to have dinner at a favorite place of mine and Rosa’s in Solana Beach.”

  Even though it didn’t sound as though a sunset was in her immediate future, her spirits lifted as worries about Adam’s plans flew out the window. She wanted to know more about Damián’s youth here in SoCal. What better way to find out than to spend time in his old neighborhood?

  She gave Adam a peck on his stubbled cheek, took Damián’s hand, and said goodbye as they walked to where they’d parked the car. What else did Damián have in store for her this weekend? She’d been so consumed by the court proceedings and anticipation about giving her testimony that she’d only made arrangements to have Sunday dinner with Anita. Whatever, she’d make the most of her downtime and try to leave the trial behind them until Monday morning.

  Hours later, her stomach full of the most delicious Mexicali soup she’d ever had and an enchilada reminiscent of their first meal together, Savannah lay wrapped safely in Damián’s arms by ten o’clock, quickly lapsing into a deep sleep. Contrary to what she’d expected, the demons didn’t dare torment her tonight. Perhaps Damián kept them at bay.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The weekend sped by, but it had been relaxing all the same. Damián had surprised her with a spa afternoon Saturday, and she’d experienced the most incredible massage she’d ever indulged in—other than the one at the club on Damián’s Alive Day. Perhaps she ought to make that a regular thing when they returned to Denver. He’d followed that up with a romantic dinner at sunset on the pier at San Clemente.

  On Sunday, they’d slept in and made love when they first awoke, although she’d been too uptight to climax. That was happening a lot lately. Too much stress.

  After Mass at San Miguel’s, the church where they’d been married, they went to Anita’s house as planned for dinner. She served a delicious Southern California meal of fish tacos, grilled vegetables, and Spanish rice. Anita had wanted to attend the trial to be there for Savannah, but Savannah vetoed that. She had intentionally shielded the woman who had taken her in all those years ago and cared for her during her first pregnancy from the ugly details. Anita already knew enough to make any normal person sick.

  Savannah had forgotten what a great cook Anita was but mostly enjoyed catching up with her about her grandkids, the church, and life in SoCal. She didn’t miss a lot about San Diego but did miss Anita and the people at San Miguel’s.

  After dinner, they’d walked on the beach and watched the sun set before driving to the airport to pick up Adam. This week, Adam chose to rent his own small unit at the lodge, saying he needed more room, but she suspected he wanted to give them time to themselves. Since she and Damián had a suite, the three would still hang out together there in the evenings and mornings, making their time out here feel a little more like home—as best they could.

  When she awoke at three Monday morning to go to the bathroom, she thought she and Damián might make love again so she brushed her teeth. But when she returned to her beloved’s side, he was fast asleep again. When the alarm went off at six-thirty, she groaned before remembering that today she might be called to the stand to testify against Gentry. Bring it!

  “We’d better get ready!” she said, tossing the sheet and coverlet off, but Damián pulled her back toward him and she relented easily, facing him.

  “First things first, bebé.” With a hand to the back of her head, he pulled her mouth to his and kissed her senseless. His tongue tangled with hers as if he’d never kissed her before. Unfortunately, the way she was stretched out caused a stitch in her side and an urge to pee. She groaned and pulled away. “Sorry. I have to go to the bathroom again.”

  “You and your bladder.” He grinned.

  “Blame your kid for the interruption, not me.”

  He patted her belly and helped her to a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. “I forgive you both.” She grinned at him over her shoulder. “¡Ándale! Ándale, querida!”

  “I’m hurrying as fast as I can.” Both of them were anxious to get this over, no doubt.

  “Bueno. I’ll text Dad that we’ll be ready to eat in thirty.”

  “Sounds good.” She’d cooked breakfast for her and Damián this weekend, and this morning, Adam would join them. Cooking helped take her mind off the trial.

  Damián got up from the other side of the bed and reached for his prosthesis. “Okay, I’ll start the coffee.”

  By the time Adam arrived, she’d prepared scrambled eggs, bacon, cinnamon rolls, and the thing she needed most this morning—herbal tea. She wished she could have caffeine but would settle for the soothing brew.

  Adam regaled them with stories about the antics of the triplets, who were crawling in earnest now. Savannah’s hand went to her belly. She couldn’t believe she’d be experiencing some of the same in eight or nine months when their baby was crawling and getting into everything. She couldn’t wait.

  After breakfast, the three left for Vista, arriving ten minutes before the trial was set to commence. Having Adam and Damián seated on either side felt incredibly right.

  Safe.

  Protected.

  Loved.

  She took her seat moments before court came back in session and waited for Lyle to be called to the stand. Savannah’s heart skipped a few beats. While she knew the rat-bastard had turned state’s evidence and would be testifying against his former employer and partner, Savannah still wasn’t ready to face her other nemesis so soon.

  The tremors began in Savannah’
s legs then moved into her arms and torso. Damián’s finger brushed the back of her neck, bared again because she’d piled her hair in a bun high on the back of her head. Gentry had preferred her hair down. She would do nothing to give the twisted monster any satisfaction or reasons to fantasize about her.

  Her breakfast threatened to come back up. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach, and she swallowed hard, waiting for her first glimpse of Lyle since her kidnapping. He’d been Gentry’s lackey for as long as she could remember and had tortured her—body and mind—for a solid year after her sperm donor had grown tired of her when she turned eighteen. She hadn’t seen Lyle since her kidnapping. Memories of the many times he’d inflicted extreme pain on her left her quaking in fear.

  Damián tapped her collar, his presence reassuring her again that she was safe and to stay in the present.

  You can’t hurt me anymore, she said repeatedly, hoping she’d believe it at some point. Unfortunately, in exchange for putting his partner in crime away, Lyle could be released sooner than she’d like.

  Don’t think about that eventuality now.

  If sitting through his testimony meant moving her closer to putting Gentry behind bars for life, she could deal with whatever he had to say. As long as Lyle stayed away from her and her family for the rest of their lives, that is.

  She’d watched for Lyle to enter the courtroom the way she had, from behind her. Instead, he was led in from the side door Gentry came through each morning. Of course. He was already serving his sentence of twenty to life. Lyle wore an orange jumpsuit, his wrists and ankles shackled. Too bad Gentry hadn’t been forced to appear in court dressed like the criminal he was instead of in a fresh Armani suit each day.

  Lyle shuffled across the well to the witness stand. How did he like being restrained against his will the way he’d done to her so many times?

  Again, Damián’s touch at the nape of her neck broke into her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Feel, but don’t get mired in the past. Her shivering lessened slightly as she pulled herself together to keep Gentry and Lyle from seeing any outward signs of weakness or hints on her face of the terror she felt.