Carnal (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 4)

by Alana Albertson

  “I hate to say it, Mia, but he could be guilty,” Grant said when we were safely away from anyone who could overhear us.

  “Why would you say something like that? How could you doubt him?”

  “I mean . . . fuck, what was with his tattoo? The Joaquín I knew would never have agreed to get tagged like that. He can never go back to the Teams with that shit.”

  “Have you heard of lasers? He’s doing what he has to do to survive in there. I don’t see how my brother getting a tattoo equals him killing someone, Grant. You know Joaquín! How can you stand there and say he could have done something like that?”

  “I’m just wondering if either of us really knew your bother, that’s all. People do things sometimes that they wouldn’t normally do. I want to help, I do, but what do you think we are going to find that the cops haven’t already looked at? If he didn’t do it, why isn’t he being more forthcoming with information? He just sat there and gave us nothing! All he cares about is getting laid. And call me jealous, but did you see how he was looking at you? You’re his fucking sister.”

  “You’re paranoid, and again, what part of any of that points to him being guilty? He wasn’t looking at me like anything—I can’t believe you would think that. I’m his sister for crying out loud! He’s scared of something, don’t tell me you didn’t see it. Why else would he agree to get that tattoo? There has to be something we are missing. Some information that will free him.”

  “And what if there isn’t? What then? Huh?” He was getting agitated, but so was I.

  “I have to believe there is something. Otherwise, I did all of this for nothing!” I screamed, reaching up to rip out one of the stupid hair extensions. It hurt, and I was sure my scalp was bleeding, but I didn’t care. The pain in my skin was nothing compared to what was ripping apart my heart right now. “Don’t you see? I have to get him out of there. He didn’t do it, and I will move heaven and earth to fucking prove it.”

  “And what if he did do it, Mia?”

  Grant’s voice was so low and so soothing that it finally broke through the anger, releasing a flood of sorrow I had been holding back. My lip trembled and tears fell from my eyes. “He didn’t,” I sobbed.

  10

  Grant

  “I’m going to take Hero for a walk,” I told Mia, who was busy in the bedroom getting changed. She had been quiet the whole way home, and I hadn’t known what to say. I didn’t know if I had said those things to upset her or because I truly thought them, but it didn’t matter anymore. Everything else in my life stopped mattering the second I pulled up my email account on my phone and saw the message waiting for me. I hadn’t opened it yet. I didn’t want to risk Mia either seeing it or asking about it. I also couldn’t guarantee my reaction to whatever I found inside.

  “Want some company?”

  “No. I want to be alone.”

  She poked her head through the doorway and gave me a strange look before she shrugged her shoulders. I left, letting Hero lead me down the sidewalk and around the bend. When my apartment was out of sight, I stopped, pulled out my phone, took a deep breath, and opened the email.

  And there it was in black and white.

  Percentage of Paternity: 99.9998%

  I gasped for breath.

  Julián was my son.

  I was a father.

  Mia was a mother.

  Emotions twisted inside me. What the fuck did this mean? Did Mia really think he was dead? I knew her, and I knew that she hadn’t been lying. Not even she could have faked the emotions I saw in her eyes when she talked about him. She really thought her son had died. So, how did our son end up with a stripper?

  Was he kidnapped?

  Switched?

  It was impossible. Hospitals had ID bracelets, buzzers, and security procedures. Even if she had been knocked out cold because of some infection, why would the hospital lie to her and say her son died? Who would be capable of switching an infant? Was it a coincidence that my and Mia’s son ended up with Tiffany who ended up murdered at a Team party? What the fuck was going on?

  I had to talk to her. I had to tell her that her son was alive. . . that Julián was Elías.

  But I couldn’t risk that slight possibility that she knew that he was alive.

  I sent Mia a quick text telling her I had a work emergency, and then Hero and I jumped into my truck, and I raced up to Temecula.

  I was going to get my son.

  11

  Mia

  Grant left hours ago, and I had been hovering somewhere between pissed that he had doubted Joaquín’s innocence and embarrassed that I had cried in front of him.

  When my phone buzzed around three o’clock, I figured it was him calling to demand I don’t go to work, but it wasn’t Grant, it was Mitch.

  Mitch: I’m outside Grant’s place. I’m taking you somewhere. It’s for Joaquín.

  I didn’t even bother to text back. I grabbed my phone and purse, locked the door, and climbed into Mitch’s truck. Grant had forbidden me from leaving his place but he didn’t believe me, he didn’t care, and he wasn’t going to help. I didn’t entirely trust Mitch, but I couldn’t just sit here all day and do nothing.

  Mitch grinned when he saw me, leaned over, and gave me a kiss, his stubble grazing on my neck. And for once, I didn’t even pull back.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To see your brother’s dealer.”

  Wait what?

  “His dealer? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  He laughed. “Grant didn’t tell you? Rafael from the other night? Joaquín introduced him to me.”

  I flinched back as if I had just been punched in the stomach. “What? No, he didn’t. You’re wrong. Joaquín never touched drugs. He hated them. Did you ever seen him get high?”

  “Listen, Mia, there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about your big brother. Trust me, he’s no saint. Joaquín got high every chance he got. It’s not a big deal. Paul warned us when we were going to have piss tests, and we never used around your goodie two-shoes boyfriend because he would’ve told you, and Joaquín didn’t want you to know—obviously. We would just distract Grant with some big titty stripper until he got lost in her pussy and left us the fuck alone.”

  I gave him a death glare, but wondered why Paul would warn Mitch and my brother about piss tests. Didn’t seem like him.

  He just laughed at me. “Don’t worry. Your beloved man never cheated on you. This was after you dumped his ass. Anyway, I told Rafael you were my new fuck buddy and we were looking to score.”

  “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

  “Really? I was supposed to tell some no-name stripper about him?”

  “You could have told me once I told you who I was.”

  “Yeah? After you drugged me, pointed a gun at my head and accused me of rape? That would have gone over well, right?”

  “Why now? Why tell me now? What that fuck is going on?”

  “Because I still believe in your brother, even if Grant doesn’t.

  Mitch parked, and my head buzzed. There was a pit bull in the yard, which was surrounded by a chain link fence. The drug dealer’s house was so stereotypical it might as well have had a damn sign and blinking arrow pointing to it. Mitch put his arm around me, grabbed my ass, and led me into the house.

  Rafael emerged from the kitchen, and all I could do was focus on the tattoo on his neck. “Hey, bro.”

  “Hey. You remember Ksenya?”

  “Yeah sure,” he said with barely a glance in my direction. “Autumn’s friend. Man, what a bitch. Fucking cock tease. All over me that night, but then she bounced without saying goodbye.”

  Bounced? I could’ve sworn she went home with him.

  In contrast to the run-down exterior of the home, the interior was clean and sleek. The walls were painted gray, the furniture looked taken care of, and the floors were glossy black hard wood.

  This guy had money. Serious money. Well, of course he did, he was a drug
dealer.

  Mitch sat on the sofa, and I cuddled up next to him, though I hated the act I was putting on, it was something I knew I had to do.

  “So, what you want?”

  “Just an eight ball.” Mitch didn’t even twitch. He was clearly used to buying from Rafael.

  Rafael’s gaze focused on me. He pulled out a bag of what I assumed was cocaine. Mitch reached for it, but Rafael stopped him.

  “No. Let your girl try it.”

  Fuck. I understood. Of course, I had to try it. Joaquín and I used to love that old movie Rush. Jason Patric was so hot. I remembered when he had to use to prove he wasn’t a cop, which he was but he did it anyway.

  I pursed my lips as Mitch cut my line. Rafael handed me a dollar bill and for the second time in my life, and I snorted some cocaine.

  This time, it was different. I wasn’t scared anymore. I was on the verge of losing everything. A week ago, I had more hope. I believed that I had a chance to free Joaquín, and I still had my true identity hidden.

  This time, my world looked different. Grant was in control, he doubted Joaquín’s innocence, and he doubted me. Despite our incredible love making, I couldn’t shake the sense that Grant would stay true to his word and leave me soon.

  I wanted to lose myself in this drug, make my pain go away, get so fucking high that I could forget my misery.

  Like a dog, Mitch must’ve sensed my weakness. His mouth covered mine, and I kissed him back, transferring our pain between us.

  I wanted him to make me feel good and do whatever it took for me to forget about my fucking up life.

  Because I knew no matter how much I loved Grant, he would never love me again.

  Rafael’s voice broke our kiss. “Feel free to fuck. I can set up a camera.”

  His words brought me back. “I am sorry about Autumn. I do not know why it is that she tease to you. I have other friends.” Complete lie, but I was sure I could scrounge up a stripper for Rafael.

  “It’s fine. Sick of you stripping bitches.”

  You stripping bitches. Maybe . . . he meant Tiffany. Her mom said her ex was a real loser. The one she thought was Julián’s father, it was a stretch, though. And Autumn mentioned that Tiffany said he was a drug dealer, which wasn’t really a very specific description of someone.

  “I am sorry you had bad experience with stripper. I am stripper, too. We are not all the bad girl. I do it for the money.”

  He didn’t answer me, but he didn’t need to. My eyes scoured this home. Trying to soak up every detail, memorize it. Praying to find a sign of Joaquín but there was nothing.

  I squeezed Mitch’s hand, and he looked at me as if he understood what I wanted.

  “Thanks, man. I needed this shit. Joaquín is probably going to plea.”

  Nice job, Mitch.

  Rafael’s eyebrow rose. “Yeah? Don’t beat yourself up about it. There’s nothing you can do for him.”

  I wanted to smack Rafael and question him about Joaquín, Julián, and Tiffany. He sounded almost confident that Joaquín was guilty. I wanted to know how he knew Joaquín, and if he had been at the party. I wanted to verify everything Mitch had told me on the way over, and I wanted to find out what the fuck he meant by ‘there’s nothing you can do for him.’

  Before I could say anything, Mitch gripped my hand so hard I almost squeaked and Rafael stood, holding out the baggie for me to take. I stuffed it in my purse. Mitch handed him a wad of cash, and we walked out.

  Once safely inside Mitch’s truck, I glared at him. “Thanks for taking me there. And for bringing up Joaquín. Did he know Tiffany? What did Rafael mean by saying there is nothing you can do for him?”

  “Don’t mention it. He didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know. Yeah, he knew Tiffany. She brought the drugs to the party and got them from him. I still don’t know her connection to Joaquín if there was any. And I don’t have a clue what he meant by that.”

  I debated telling Mitch that there was a possibility that Joaquín and Tiffany had a kid together, but decided to wait until I knew for sure. Maybe Julián was Rafael and Tiffany’s son. That would make much more sense. Either way, I should get the new results from Roman any day.

  “Fine.” I held the baggie out to Mitch, but he waved his hand at it.

  “Keep that. I have a feeling you need it more than I do.”

  “No. I don’t want it.”

  “I can’t do any. We have a piss test coming up. I’m sick of it, anyway. I want to start clean. With you, Mia.”

  A metallic taste filled my mouth. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for me and Joaquín. But you know I love Grant. That will never go away.”

  “Grant’s never going to love you again. He’s a good man, better one than I am. I was telling you the truth the other night. And I know you feel alone in this full thing, like you have no one. But you have me. I’ve always wanted you. I promise I can make you happy. Happier than Grant ever could. You’re so not like him. I know you love him, but just think about it. If he’s not going to love you, I will.”

  I couldn’t believe he was serious. Mitch was fucking gorgeous, no doubt, but I loved Grant. Even so, it was nice to hear that someone cared about me. Mitch’s loneliness filled the truck, and I stuffed the bag in my purse, not even understanding why. “I will, Mitch. I will.”

  12

  Grant

  I finally arrived at the street and made a sharp right turn. Fuck the twenty-five miles per hour speed limit. My son was being held hostage in this house.

  I spent the drive trying to formulate a plan, but nothing satisfied me. I could bust down the front door and take my son by gunpoint, an act that would surely land me in jail for kidnapping. I also didn’t want to threaten a poor old lady if she had no idea that she was part of some elaborate scheme.

  I still didn’t understand the connection between Joaquín and Tiffany and my and Mia’s son, but there was something. There had to be Joaquín had said that Mia had a boyfriend named Julián, which had to have been code. I couldn’t analyze why he needed to talk to me in code, but I knew . . . I just knew that he was telling me to come find this kid and it would lead me to my answers. All it told me was that Joaquín knew about my son being here. It made me think that he killed Tiffany because he found out she was involved in kidnapping his nephew and he wanted me to find him. I just didn’t know why he never said anything to me or Mia about it.

  Then there was Autumn. She randomly took Mia to meet Julián and then showed me a picture of him. I was grateful that she had, but it just seemed to be too big a coincidence. What did she know? Was she involved in any part of this mess?

  I parked next to the curb and immediately my stomach dropped. There were a few newspapers on the porch and a delivery notice stuck to the door.

  I grabbed my gun from the glove compartment, tucked it in the back of my jeans, and slid out of my truck, Hero by my side. The grass looked a bit long, and there weren’t any cars in the driveway. I opened the mailbox, but it was empty. One look inside the window at the vacant house and my worst fears were confirmed.

  They were gone.

  My son was gone.

  Fuck.

  I hopped the side gate and jimmied open a window with my Gerber tool. One jump and I was inside, leaving Hero in the yard.

  The house was empty except for a few cardboard boxes. The floors were filthy and there was an egg carton on the counter, as if someone left in a hurry.

  I walked slowly through the house, looking in closets and opening doors, but they were all empty. There was no furniture, no toys, and no clothes. I stepped foot into a small blue room, which must have been where he slept. The only thing left inside was a ripped Spider-Man poster on the wall. Then, for the second time that day, I cried.

  Fuck.

  I sat in the middle of the room, completely lost and disorientated. I didn’t even know where to start.

  The silence was broken by a slight sound coming from the closet. I jumped to my feet and flu
ng the flimsy folding door open.

  A small, orange-and-white tabby stared back at me.

  I didn’t like cats, but if there was even the smallest chance that it was my son’s pet, I wanted it. I scooped her up and held her close to my chest. The thing was so small, it could fit in my pocket. With one last look at the torn poster, I walked out of the room, down the stairs, and to the front door. I collected the papers sitting there, the oldest of which was delivered three days ago. I was here four days ago.

  She knew.

  She took one look at me and knew I was Julián’s father.

  So she bolted.

  I punched the wall with my hand.

  I would not rest until I was reunited with my son. I would take leave, do anything to get custody of him.

  But first, I had to find him.

  13

  Mia

  Once back at Grant’s place, I considered flushing the drugs down the toilet. I sure as hell didn’t need them. But instead, I stashed them in a secret pocket in my luggage. Maybe they could be used for some type of evidence.

  I sat on Grant’s bed, attempting to quiet my mind. He’d left in such a hurry, I wondered what he was up to. He’d told me he was going to the compound, but I didn’t believe him for a second.

  My phone lit up, and I saw the name flash across the screen. Roman. Finally, I would have at least some of the answers to this puzzle.

  “Privet.”

  “I have results. Are you sitting down?” Roman’s voice sounded stern, serious.

  I took a deep breath. “Yes. Am I right? Is Julián my nephew?”

  He paused, and for a second I thought I’d lost the call. “Hello? Roman? Are you there?”