“I asked how Clint is doing? How you’re coping? For real this time, not what you pawned off on Mason.”
“He’s doing really well. Really well,” Lydia blushed.
“I know that face. All is well in the Clint and Lydia lovemaking department. But…” Sophia put down her ice cream and maneuvered awkwardly to hug her friend again. Lydia accepted the hug gratefully.
“Tell me, Honey.”
Lydia thought about what she could tell. “There’s something wrong, and I can’t figure it out.”
“What makes you think that?”
Lydia paused. She knew the truth. What she told Sophia would go to Mason, sure as the sun would rise. But would that be a bad thing? Wouldn’t it be good to get Clint’s best friend’s perspective?
“You know about the mood swings, I told you about those on the phone, right?”
“They sound awful.”
“They are.” Lydia bit her lip. “In all the years we’ve been together he’s never been as hurtful as he was when I went into the hospital room. He about killed me.” At Sophia’s shocked expression, Lydia immediately clarified. “Nothing physical. It was the killer statement. He told me he didn’t want me in the room because I wasn’t his wife.”
“No! You must have misheard him.”
Lydia stared at her friend. “Do you really think I could have made a mistake about something like that?”
Sophia sadly shook her head.
“I always thought you two were just waiting until your careers settled down and then you’d surprise us all and say come to Hawaii. I know you don’t want your father to give you away, so that’s why I thought you’d spring it on us.”
“It’s like you can read my mind. Beth is the peacemaker, so she had our father walk her down the aisle. Clint told me that Jack was less than pleased. He thought he wasn’t worthy of the duty, considering how he had let Beth down,” Lydia’s voice trailed off.
“Families are complicated. You know I was never going to have my dad walk me down the aisle. I held more love in my heart for his second wife than I did for him. God knows I adore my little sister, Louisa.”
“Have you seen her much?”
“No. I asked Ashley to keep her away in case this pregnancy doesn’t work out.”
Lydia squeezed Sophia’s hand. “It’s going to work, you’re at thirty-one weeks. You’re following all the doctor’s orders.”
“I pray, Lydia. I pray every day.” Sophia’s eyes glistened.
“Ice cream will help. Just a little.” Lydia smiled and picked up the half-melted bowl of Pralines and Cream.
“Perfect, I love it when it’s melty.”
17
It was the third time that Drake picked up his cell phone that put Clint’s Spidey senses on red alert. He knew that everything was okay with Karen and the kids, they’d already had a half-hour conversation with them when they passed Escondido. Nope, this was something different.
“Fess up.”
Drake gave him a distracted look. “What?”
“What has your tail in a twist?”
“Nothing.” Drake’s tone and answer tried to totally shut Clint out. Unlucky for Drake, Clint wasn’t having one of his paranoid hours.
“I call bullshit. You’re even driving like a little old lady. Normally we’d be in Palm Desert by now. There is a serious stick up your ass. Should I have had someone else drive me?”
“No, now can it, Archer.” Drake picked up his phone again and grimaced. When he put it down, Clint immediately picked it up before it had a chance to shut down.
“Goddammit, you give that back, you asshole!” He couldn’t lean over the console and reach Clint, so he was stymied.
“Na-uh,” Clint said as he checked the messages. There was something from a D.C. number. The last message had come in last night.
Be available tomorrow, you won’t like the consequences if you aren’t.
Clint quickly scrolled through the past texts—they went back three weeks. Whoever was texting Drake had told him to set-up a WhatsApp account and communicate that way. Drake had refused until a dropbox was downloaded to his phone. Then Drake had acquiesced. Of course, the dropbox was now empty.
Clint looked up. They were now pulled over to the side of the freeway. He’d never seen Drake so angry before.
“Who’s blackmailing you? What do they have on you? Why are you putting up with this shit?” Clint asked quietly.
“Give me my phone and don’t ever bring this up again.”
“No.” It was the principle of the thing. There was no reason to keep it. He knew there was nothing else of value. He’d memorized the D.C. number. At least he’d retained that ability. Clint knew that anything substantial had been said on WhatsApp and was in the now-empty dropbox, so he was flying blind.
“Drake, I can help.”
“No, you can’t. I’ve got this covered.”
“Yeah, sure you do. That’s why you’re on pins and needles and acting like you’re going to have a heart attack. This is not you. You’re forgetting the first rule of being a SEAL—trust your teammates.”
“This is my fuck-up, I’ll take care of it. I refuse to involve the rest of the team.” Drake looked defeated, angry, and anguished as he held out his hand for the phone. Clint was stunned. This was not the man he knew. The one and only other time he had seen him like that was when he realized his own mother had wanted him dead.
Clint didn’t hand him his phone. The truck was still idling. He pushed in Mason’s number.
“What the fuck!”
“We’re a team.”
“What’s up, Drake? Did you drop Clint off?”
“It’s me, Mase. We’re on the side of the road on the way to Palm Desert. Drake’s being blackmailed. He isn’t talking.”
There was a long pause.
Softly Mason asked. “Drake, talk to me. It’s got something to do with Syria, doesn’t it?”
Drake slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “How the fuck do you do that?” he demanded to know. “How in the fuck did you manage to pull that out of your ass? That’s fucking impossible.”
Clint laughed. “You’re right, Mase, the text on his phone came from a D.C. number. This has to have something to do with the senator.”
“Dammit, Drake, you fucked up not telling me,” Mason’s voice was lethal. “When we get this over and done with, I’m going to find some piddly-assed formality to write you up for, like tardiness or out of uniform, but it’s really for not bringing me in on this. Got it?” Mason’s voice was as deadly as Drake’s had been fifteen minutes ago. Clint approved. “Now spill your guts.”
Drake didn’t say a word.
“Answer me,” Mason commanded.
“Fine, I’ll talk. The little fucker’s going to say how we, mostly me, tried to murder him when we were saving his punk ass. It’s all because of my big fucking mouth, but the whole team will be implicated.”
“So, it’s that Devon shit-heel guy, huh?” Mason asked.
“Got it in one,” Drake acknowledged.
“Is that the guy you showed me a picture of? The aide to the Senator that I said was shifty?” Clint asked. “What does he have on you? What does he want from you?”
“He showed me a video that he altered. It shows me sounding like an out-of-control bastard threatening to turn him over to the enemy.”
Clint and Mason both laughed. Clint could easily see Drake threatening that. Based on the little he had been told of the mission, it sounded like this Devon freak had been a pain in the ass from the get-go. If he had been as out of line as they say he was, Drake would have done anything possible to get him to cooperate, including threatening him.
“So, we can explain it,” Clint said.
“I agree,” Mason said.
“Guys, you don’t know how damning it is. I don’t care about me—well not much—I care about Karen and the kids. But I really care how it will reflect on all of you.”
“So, we gu
t him,” Clint said. He was starting to get angry, really angry, that somebody would try to do this to his friend and teammate.
“Whoa there, Archer,” Mason said calmly. “We need to put on our thinking caps. Drake, he wants something from you, right?”
“Yes. But I don’t know what it is yet. It’s not money. He says he has a job he wants me to do.”
“That’s not good,” Mason stated evenly.
Clint shook his head. Devon needing a Navy SEAL did not bode well at all.
“I’ve been trying to think of a way to get the video and all copies away from him. I just don’t know how,” Drake said as he dropped his head against the back of his seat.
“That’s my area of expertise,” Clint said.
“Ah hell, I can’t ask you to do that for me. You’ve only just been cleared to watch a little bit of TV.” Drake rolled his head to look at Clint. “Not that you did any of that, these last three days,” he grinned.
Clint smirked. Damn right he hadn’t. Not while he had a chance to make love to Lydia.
“I’ve also been cleared for one hour a day on electronics if it’s a large screen monitor. No phones.”
“Then what the hell were you doing looking at my phone?” Drake demanded to know.
“That was need to know. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Good thing you did,” Mason spoke up.
Drake started up the truck again and merged into traffic fast, really fast. Clint sucked in a deep breath as the yucca trees whizzed by, making his stomach heave. He slammed his eyes shut and let Mason and Drake continue to talk. He wished to God that he could remember more about the mission, just one small piece. He was positive if he could, he could be a bigger help than just doing an hour a day of sleuthing. But it was all one big blank. His only reference was the names that Finn had supplied, and the pictures Drake had shown him. He knew everybody they’d rescued.
“I still don’t know how he could have had a camera. We patted him down for every recording device and destroyed them,” Drake was saying.
Mason didn’t reply, which just meant that their lieutenant was saying they’d fucked up. And they must have.
“Is Devon really this stupid? I don’t think so,” Clint said with his eyes still closed. “What I read about him shows him as the type who would sell off his own kid if it would further his career or push an old lady into the street in order to get a cab, but he’s not dumb. He’s one of the up-and-comers on the D.C. circuit, he’s not an idiot. Shifty and ruthless, yes, but not dumb.”
“You okay, Clint? Why are your eyes closed?” Drake asked.
“I feel a headache coming on,” Clint admitted. Might as well tell it like it was.
“Do we need to quit talking, or should I pull over again?” Drake wanted to know.
“Keep talking. Just no more fast maneuvers. Your talking helps keep my mind off the nausea.”
“What?” Drake exclaimed. “Don’t you dare throw up in my truck, man.”
Clint and Mason chuckled.
“Clint, I agree with your assessment of Devon,” Mason said. “This is a huge risk for him to make, so there has to be a huge payoff for him. If we could figure out what it was, and then cut it out at the root, we would be in the clear.”
“Can’t we just kill him for real?” Drake whined. “It’d be doing the world a favor.”
“Can it, Avery.” Mason was clearly exasperated.
“Guys, that tape has really been altered, I need you to know that. Sure, I said what was on that tape, but there was a hell of a lot more on it that was edited out. If they saw the whole thing it wouldn’t be nearly as damning.”
“But would it still be damning?” Clint asked as he looked over at Drake.
“I’m really not sure,” Drake said as he glanced in his side mirror before passing a car. “I know I threatened the little shit. He wouldn’t shut up and get it together. We had to get a move on to get out of there, and he was wasting time. I told him if he didn’t shut up and get moving, I’d throw him in front of the tanks.”
“Sure, that doesn’t sound bad at all,” Clint said sarcastically.
“Yeah, but he was telling me to leave his colleague behind because she was slowing us down.”
“For real?” Clint asked. “He really is a shit-heel.”
“Exactly. That’s not on the videotape.”
“You know, it could be that he doesn’t want Drake to do a job for a pay-off, it could be that he wants Drake to help him out of a big ole jam. Let’s say his ass is on the line for something. Something that is life and death? I mean, nobody in their right mind would go up against a Navy SEAL for money, no matter how much, let alone Drake. You’re fucking scary.”
“Thank you,” Drake grinned with satisfaction. “See, you’re firing on all cylinders, this brain damage bullshit is bullshit,” Drake grinned over at him.
Clint gave a wan smile. If only that were true.
“We need to get our hands on all versions of that tape, then we need to find out who is twisting Devon’s tail and eliminate that threat. Then we need Devon to understand we’re the scariest motherfuckers on the block,” Mason’s voice was deadly.
“Clint, this is Midnight Delta only. We’re not pulling Dex in, and I’m sorry, Lydia can’t know about this. So, they’ve only cleared you for an hour screen time a day?”
“That’s what they said last week. We’ll see what these new folks say at the day spa. I’m a big boy, I know when to push, and when not to.”
Drake gave him a sideways glance. “Clint, we can’t take the chance. If you fuck up your recovery, you’re worthless to me. Do what the docs say.”
Clint felt his hands clench into fists. He hated listening to his friend, especially when he was being reasonable.
“Clint, listen to Drake,” Mason said. “We need you at the top of your game. Otherwise, I’m forced to bring either Dex from Black Dawn or Kane from Night Storm, and I would prefer to keep this in the family.”
“Lydia is part of the family.” Clint hated and loved the idea of having Lydia work on this. He worried for her but knew that she would be invaluable.
“She is,” Mason agreed. “But she’s vulnerable. She might be a cop, but she’s not equipped to defend herself. Nope, it’s you or the other team’s computer experts. Can I count on you to do the right thing?”
“Yes,” Clint said. “The chance to be useful after all this inactivity is a Godsend.” Then having realized what he’d said, he glanced over at Drake. “Sorry, man.”
“I didn’t take it wrong,” Drake smiled. “I understand.”
“I’m going to say this again. If you overdo, you’re fucking your recovery over, and you’re fucking us over. Remember that,” Mason said. “I’ve got to go. There’s somebody else I’m worried about doing too much.”
“How is Sophia? Really?”
“She has pre-eclampsia. She’s going in every week for tests, we’re monitoring her blood pressure here at the house on a daily basis and calling it in. So far, the meds are doing the trick, but she is antsy as hell. She’s scared that she’ll lose the baby. She refuses to even find out if it’s a boy or a girl this time. Won’t allow us to buy a single piece of baby clothing for fear of jinxing things. She puts on a good front, but she’s a basket case. Having Lydia come over today was great medicine for her.”
“That’s good to hear,” Clint smiled.
18
“Karen’s mother is staying another week. Mason is going to be here tonight,” Drake said as he unloaded the large monitor from its box.
Clint looked around the roomy suite that his brother-in-law had booked for him. Jack never did anything small. There was a full kitchen and an impressive work area. The fact that Drake hadn’t oohed and aahed over the size of the TV screen told Clint just how worried he was with everything going on.
“What were you thinking bringing this tablet if you knew you couldn’t work on the small screen, Clint? How’d you manage to slip it past Lydia,
anyway?”
“Lydia and I were busy most of the time. When we weren’t busy, she and I were mostly sleeping, except for the one time I got up and packed while she continued to sleep.”
“She’s losing her touch. The woman I know would have been all over that.”
“She was all over that,” Clint said with a shit-eating grin.
“Okay, you got me there,” Drake grinned back. “But what about rehab and taking this seriously?”
“I was going to do the same thing you’re doing, only difference is, I was going to pay for the monitor,” Clint’s grin got even bigger.
Drake gave him the finger.
Clint didn’t mind in the slightest.
“I think you’re cured, my man.”
“Sometimes it feels like it,” Clint sighed with satisfaction. “Then there are other times when I feel like there is someone else living inside my body. I fucking hate it. Let’s not forget the fact that I can’t remember about three months of my life, and my vocabulary ain’t worth shit.”
“Hold on while I get the world’s smallest violin to play for you.” Drake plugged in the monitor and Clint attached the cord to his laptop.
“We have lift-off.”
“Seriously, I don’t want you doing anything on my behalf that’ll set you back,” Drake said as Clint sat down in front of the monitor.
“In all seriousness, neither do I,” Clint glanced at his friend. “The longer I take to recover, the less chance there is of a full recovery. I’m not FUBAR’ing this.”
Drake’s hand came down on Clint’s shoulder and squeezed. “Glad to hear it.”
“But at the same time, getting weasel-dick handled is time-critical. Now, I need to see your phone’s SIM card, and I need into your WhatsApp account.”
Drake took out his phone and handed Clint his SIM card. “I’m going to read your SIM card with this reader, and then do a fun little thing called SIMjacking. I can’t copy all of your old SIM data into the phone, but I can arrange it so that new incoming texts and calls will come into the new burner phone at the same time as it does to your phone.”
Her Unbroken Seal: A Navy Seal Romance Page 13
