The SEAL's Promise

by Grace Alexander

  "Mom, would you mind cooking up some lunch? I'm dying for something home-cooked, and I think Tessa could use a real meal. I think she's had a bag of crackers in the past twenty-four hours."

  Tessa's face flushed. "Oh, I can help. I don't need to be tended to—"

  "You'd never know it, but Tessa's been shot at a few times, not to mention a nasty bout with some tear gas. Though that was my fault." Truth be told, he was proud of his girl for taking it like she did. McKay winked at Tessa but still spoke to his mom. "I think she could use some of your famous cooking. And, Tessa, you need to rest. I'm going to need your help later. So eat, then sleep. I have to head out for a while, but we'll take care of it all. Is that okay?"

  Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but nothing came out. Her fingers touched her lips, a gesture as lost as the words she couldn't find. She shuffled a bare foot back and forth on the driveway, then nodded. Pebbled rocks bent to the will of her painted toes.

  His mom started back into the house. "Drake, I'll let you get your friend settled, and I'll be in the kitchen. I might have some clothes that'll fit, Tessa, if you want. I'll leave them at the foot of the stairs. I'm sure Drake will direct you to the nearest shower."

  "Yes, thank you." She smiled, conveying her appreciation.

  McKay balanced Anna on his hip, and, with his free hand, took Tessa's chin, directing her gaze to him. His stare tracked her, despite Anna's every attempt to remove his sunglasses. "You need to relax. You're not an imposition or a headache. If anything, you're a pleasant surprise."

  "Pleasant isn't how I'd describe myself right now." She swallowed hard enough that he could see it. Her fingers pleated the bottom of her torn-and-repaired shirt.

  "Here I go. I'm an old record stuck on repeat. What's wrong?"

  Tessa sucked in her bottom lip and remained quiet. Had she been through interrogation resistance training?

  "All right, doll. I'm going to show you around. You have the roam of the place, comfy bed, and a hot shower. Mom will stay here with Anna while I'm gone. She's more than happy to help you with anything you want. Really, she's easygoing. I promise."

  McKay dropped his hand from her chin and interlaced his fingers with hers. Anna squealed and grasped at the rough hair on his face. With a lesser degree of hesitation in her drudging gait, Tessa followed him into the house and into an expansive foyer with marble floors and vibrant colored wallpaper. She immediately eyed his security system panel next to the front door and security cameras.

  "Don't let it bother you. It's for safety and protection. I can be paranoid about my family's safety. I'm a big believer in 'you can never be too careful'."

  "Drake?"

  He turned to face her, squeezing her hand tight. "Yeah?"

  Tessa sighed, but it sounded like the nervous whimper of a scared puppy. A scared, cute puppy. "I don't do family well. I don't have one. I don't know how to handle one. I—uh—can't remember the last time I held a man's hand, walking around his house, with his mom in the kitchen." Tessa's palm went clammy in his hand. Her gaze bounced around the room, maybe looking for an escape route.

  That was her problem? Never in a million years would he have guessed that. But he'd keep that to himself.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tessa knew that it didn't go unnoticed by Drake's mother that she walked in with the baby on her hip. Her stomach swirled as the woman's raised eyebrows. His mother didn't say anything to her or, as far as Tessa could tell, to Drake.

  Plates heaped high with food sat on the table. The spread should have been displayed on a cooking show. Picture perfect, and she was much hungrier than she realized. Famished, really.

  The bottle warmer buzzed on the counter. Edith grabbed it, tested the bottle on the inside of her wrist while eyeing Tessa. "You must be famished. But you're more than welcome to feed her if you want."

  Tessa's cheeks heated at the offer. "I don't know the first thing about feeding a baby." That, and she was sure the baby in her arms would call her bluff and jump if Tessa so much as moved.

  "It's simple. She does all the work. Just hold her like this." Edith moved Anna into a cradle in Tessa's arms and passed her the bottle. "And hold the bottle upright like this. Support her head. She'll stop when she's done."

  Tessa looked at Drake. He nodded, encouraging her.

  All right, maybe holding and feeding Anna wouldn't be like snuggling an escape artist while juggling a bottle.

  Big, bright eyes blinked. Fat cheeks plumped then caved with each suck. Anna was mesmerizing. Enchanting. She made Tessa believe in familial happiness for a flash. This was why women spoke incessantly about the biological clock screaming in their heads. She had read about it. Studied it. But before now, it didn't click. Sweet innocence and unadulterated trust stared up at her, threatening to thaw one of her dark fears. Family. Children. Parents.

  "Look at you." Drake came up behind her and leaned on the chair. His presence made her nervous. What if he didn't want her to do this? What if he did?

  He massaged the anxious knots in her shoulders. In an instant, the hefty weight of concern washed away with his meaningful caress. "Anna's addictive. Watch out for that, doll. I hate to grab my food to go, but I have to head to work."

  He filled a plastic container. Watching him make his lunch made her laugh. Big, bad, tough Drake McKay—in real life, he was a baby-toting, brown-bag lunch packing, family man. Despite his lean muscles and hard-edged face, he was an honest man, trying to fix the world one tear gas grenade at a time.

  "It's easy to see why. She's perfect, Drake. You're a lucky man."

  Lucky. Happy. Warm.

  It wasn't that she didn't think those things of herself. She was just different. Family was a foreign concept. Long ago, she allowed hers to fade to black in her memory.

  Her childhood had been regimented. But even that description was an understatement. Her father had preferred to be called The General. Her mother's indifference to The General's rules and regulations came in the form of pills and booze. She never stood up for Tessa, even when The General put a knife to her throat to teach her a lesson or spanked her with a belt until she vomited. Welts branded her for days.

  Tessa shook her head. No need to go down memory lane. No need to remind herself why family life didn't work for her. All her pain was channeled to help others. Tessa specialized in military families and soldiers who came home from war zones. It was all in hopes that one day, she could help a young girl avoid a home life like the one she had suffered through.

  But for now, for this simple moment, she appreciated family time with Edith, Drake, and Anna.

  She'd also savor the handsome man who proved to be so interested in being her hero. No matter where they were or what they were doing, Drake made her blood rush at a feverish pace, crashing through her body like a stock car race. When he looked at her with those dark-as-night eyes, she felt stronger and more desirable than she thought possible. And when he didn't look at her, heck, when he wasn't in the room, the mere thought of Drake made her shiver with wanton need.

  He placed a disposable cell phone in front of her. "And you, beautiful… I'll call you later. Burner phone. Another fun toy. If you have to call someone to let them know you're safe on your vacation, use this one. If you need to talk to me, I'm the first number programmed in."

  Drake placed a kiss on the top of her head that took her breath away, stilling all the concern and apprehension she felt in his home, with his baby. And in its place, she relished the bold attraction that bloomed, though still somewhat overwhelmed. Tessa was too overcome to see if Edith saw them.

  Anna finished her bottle, and her sleepy eyes hung heavy. Drake scooped her out of Tessa's arms and placed her up against his shoulder. The baby wore a pink flower onesie and matching footed pants with ruffles on the bottom. She was a stark contrast to Drake's combat boots, dark camo pants, and butt-kicker shirt.

  Tessa knew he wore his Glock tucked into a holster under his shirt and saw the tactical knife secur
ed against his calf. Both weapons were secure and safe from the curious reach of the baby.

  He burped Anna, his huge hand spanning the width of the sleeping baby and left the kitchen. As he bounded into the kitchen again, he flipped on the switch for the baby monitor sitting on the counter. Tessa listened to the last few notes of the mobile play a lullaby as he waved good-bye to her and his mom, grabbed his keys, and walked toward the garage door.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Safehouse headquarters was a fortress, a high-tech lair with Fort Knox-like security. It was cold. Impenetrable. His home away from home.

  McKay stared over Talon's shoulder at the wall of flat screens. Computer systems that NASA could only dream about continually scoured through data and satellite images like electronic wallpaper. Ones and zeroes danced a techie tango. High-resolution topography shuffled from one covert location to the next. The hub monitored their operations around the world. Teams he didn't know, but would go through anything to assist, were mere blips on an observation screen and surrounded by all the intel that could possibly help any op.

  "Where's Joseph?" McKay ran his hand over the smooth war room table. Many a high stakes battle plan had been drawn there.

  Talon didn't look from his wall of screens. "Most likely thinking of ways to torture people."

  If Joseph developed new techniques, McKay would love to try them on the guys chasing Tessa. He'd try anything, experimental or not if it meant a slow and painful demise.

  "We need a plan of action. Otherwise, I'm just going to start picking off anyone I don't know. Safehouse's legal bill will spiral into the cataclysmic category."

  Talon spun in his swivel chair to face him. "You're not going to like this, but I'll bet my Ducati for your new jet skis, he'll want to use Tessa as bait."

  "No. We've already been down that road, and I'm not doing it again. We can use the cipher as bait. We can use me as bait. I'll string that bike up like a piece of cipher meat. But Tessa is a no go."

  "Whoever these guys are, they'll follow her. She's the easy target."

  "You'd think with all of your brains and Joseph's 'been there, done everything' attitude, you two could come up with something more original." McKay picked at his nail with his keys. "Please. Easy target. I don't want to hear it."

  "That's a lot of whining, McKay. Bring it up with Joseph when you see him. You might as well grab some grub, I'm not going to be done for a few hours." Talon put his earbuds in and turned back to the screen.

  "It would've been nice if Joseph mentioned that when he said to get my butt to work." McKay spun on his heels and hurried to his vehicle. He couldn't get home fast enough.

  ###

  Mateo Valencia rang Alonso's phone all morning. No answer. Several possibilities crawled through his mind. The two most promising excuses were death or prison. Death was preferable. If Alonso were incarcerated in an American jail, Mateo would have to get rid of him later.

  Mateo ran a hand over his smooth cheeks. He was so close to that list and that woman. How he wanted her now. A prize for his troubles. A bonus for the headache this American jaunt had caused him.

  It wasn't as if he assigned an underling. He sent a capable, lethal man. Alonso had never disappointed before. He'd never needed punishment, encouragement, or extensive lessons. No, Alonso wanted to be in good graces. He wanted to be a leader. He'd never given Mateo a reason to plan for his execution. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Alonso might have been a pupil, his very own puppet, but he was expendable. Just like all the rest.

  Mateo cracked his knuckles and knocked back the last of the amber liquor in his highball glass. "Have Bruno brought to me."

  Someone always listened for his orders. His staff would find his number two and send for him immediately, though none of them would venture near the man unless requested. Bruno looked like a gorilla, snarled like a barracuda, and stunk like a sweat-soaked gladiator under the high sun. If he weren't a valuable resource, Mateo wouldn't let him within one hundred kilometers of his estates. But he was valuable, and he'd more than earned his title of second in command. Bruno had developed ways to torture that even made Mateo cringe.

  Before he could refill his glass from the crystal decanter, Bruno Hernández ambled into the room. An Uzi was draped over his shoulder like a child's backpack, but nonetheless, he addressed Mateo with a reverent tilt of his head. "You sent for me, Señor."

  "Alonso is failing. If he's not dead, he soon will be."

  Bruno nodded. Perhaps hoping to carry out the death order.

  "Do whatever it takes to bring me that woman and the list. You should fly out this afternoon. Head to Washington, DC. You can have access to any of the resources you deem necessary."

  Bruno smiled with the sadistic look Mateo knew would fix his problems. His number two wanted the woman. He hadn't given him a woman of his own in weeks. It was like tossing a meaty bone to a Rottweiler. By tomorrow he would be picking his teeth with a rib bone.

  Mateo hated to sacrifice his bestselling product, especially the assumed caliber of Tessa Thompson. A little older than he liked, but she had shown fight. Men paid well for that attribute. But if Bruno succeeded, he'd give the man whatever he wanted.

  "Bruno, mi amigo, if she's to your liking, you may keep her as a reward for your continued excellence." Without a second thought to the tormented fate of the young woman, Mateo returned to his desk to review a ledger.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  McKay had a raw lump at the back of his throat since Tessa had held Anna earlier in the day. And that moment by the window didn't help. Darn if he'd known he craved domestic bliss. Seeing her hold his kid knocked Tessa intergalactic-style past the Milky Way.

  He had made his way home in a flash, driving like a man intent on sharing his newfound revelation. Now, he towered over her freshly showered body, relishing the scent of his shampoo in her hair. He resisted the urge to finger-comb it. They were in his living room. An empty house, except for the two of them.

  "This could be complicated." He rubbed a few dark strands of her wet hair between his fingers. "It feels complicated. It feels like something, and, doll, I'm not used to anything."

  He broke from her, scrubbed his hands over his cheeks, hoping to push away the sinking dread. He was saying the wrong things. Tessa remained mum, and he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

  Without his conscious permission, his hands found her tresses again. "I'm sorry I had to drag you into this. Into my home. Into my family."

  "It's not that I dislike being here." She tried to brush his hands from her hair, but it was no use. He couldn't keep his hands off her.

  "Oh, it's not, huh?" He laughed, cupping her chin in his hand. "Tell me then, Miss Psychologist. Where does all your anxiety stem from?" And tell me the root of mine while you're at it.

  "From places you don't want to know. Places I don't want to share."

  "Why not? You know things about me. All my drama. You know all about Anna and how she came into my life. You know my biggest fear is an inability to protect my family. That my career could somehow hurt Anna one day." He took a breath. He sounded like a chick. "I showed you mine. What about you?"

  "Truth?" she asked, dripping in hesitation.

  "You want to stop now?"

  "Well, no." A grandfather clock shook the room. Tic. Tic. Toc. "I don't do family…"

  "You've established that."

  "Because, well, it'd be better if I showed you. Look at this beauty." She turned, dropped the waistband of her pants, and pointed to an old scar.

  His eyes narrowed as his jaw clenched. Were those scars? One line after another. They were definitely scars. Smooth and faded but very much there.

  She lifted her chin. "And over here. They're cuts. Slices. Deep reminders in my flesh as to where I came from and what I need to avoid."

  He stood furious and mute, not knowing where to take his line of questioning. Kind words and coherent thoughts evaded him. It was his turn to go silent, despite t
he storm that thrashed inside his chest. He'd seriously hurt the guy who'd done this.

  "And I have marks on the back of my legs, really high up. Right near my backside. Thicker. Wider."

  Thicker? Wider? "Tessa, baby. I didn't—"

  "They're old, but nowhere near forgotten."

  Tears sat on the edge of her bottom eyelids, but they never fell.

  "Tessa…" What could he possibly offer this moment? He hated himself for not having a hot spring of extraordinary things to say. For not knowing how to take away the pain she must've been feeling.

  "My mother's hobby was drinking like some moms knit or scrapbook. She chased her drink with pills. Uppers, downers. Whatever in between. She loved the variety."

  Tessa's walls and sarcasm now made sense.

  "She hurt you?" he asked but knew it didn't matter what her response was. Someone hurt her, someone who should have to pay.

  "Oh, no. She never hurt me. She just focused on laundry, or she'd watch television. Though sometimes, on the days I thought she couldn't love me any less, she'd go for a walk. Come to think of it, that hurt more than any wound."

  He'd never understand the type of pain she'd been through. He'd spent his life fixing the wrongs that others couldn't handle themselves. Tessa was trying to keep it together in front of him. It shouldn't have been this way. She shouldn't have these memories and scars. "Your mother hurt you. Even if she didn't touch you."

  Tessa shrugged

  "And your father? He's the one who hurt you?"

  "My father?" She snorted. "Do you mean The General? Yes, he was the one. He liked to inflict pain with whatever he could find. It helped him pass the time of his miserable existence."

  McKay would love to do severe damage to him. But not before he ensured the man relived each old wound he had given to Tessa. McKay channeled all his rage into his fists and tried to hide them in the pockets of his pants. Ripping stuff off walls wasn't going to help Tessa now. Napalming an area a mile wide wouldn't help either.