“Where have you been all this time?” Alex asked even as he winced at the brutal evidence of Montego’s sadism.
“Around,” came back to him with an indifferent grunt.
Alex called bullshit. “What’d she do? Pay you to abduct those other men or did you get to sleep with her when you were her good little boy?”
At last. Angry, pissed off eye contact. Finally, there was the man Alex remembered, Aaron’s eyes gray and mean and sparking with rage.
So Alex fed the fire. Leaning into the table, he snarled, “I asked you a question, Marine.”
A tic started in Aaron’s clenched jaw. His nostril’s flared and Alex squared his shoulders, prepared for war. But as quickly as the storm manifested, it died. Aaron slumped back in his chair. “You think I wanted this? You think I stayed with her because I liked what she did to us?”
“I think you had a duty to escape, you asshole, but you didn’t!” There was only one way to get through to this broken man, and Alex intended to get there.
“Yeah, well fuck you! You have no idea what I lived through!”
“Then enlighten the whole world how tough things were for you! You joined the Corps, you pussy-whipped reject! They didn’t come looking for you. Why don’t you tell me what was so important that you stayed with a psychotic bitch like Catalina Montego?”
“Because of them! Us! That’s why!”
Not good enough. “Because of who, damn it?”
“My men! The other guys! None of us had a choice! Once we woke up from whatever crap she poisoned us with, it was either do what she wanted or watch her mutilate us. Some guy. Some kid. Shit, Alex! She took everything. Our clothes. Our Pride. And when one of us disobeyed or broke, we all paid!” Aaron scraped his remaining fingers over his thinning hair, tearing long scratches into his scalp, forehead, and down to his cheeks. “She made sure we paid in blood. If she didn’t take a finger, she took other b-body parts. And if any of us tried to escape…” A sob wrenched out of his throat. “God. We went into the w-w-wood chipper.”
Aaron’s peculiar choice of referring to himself as ‘we’ indicated how thoroughly he identified with Montego’s other victims. He and his brothers had melded into a collective ‘we’ to survive. He’d witnessed utter depravity that ensured the collective endured. He’d been caught in a vicious circle. It was no wonder he hadn’t escaped.
Alex swallowed the bile creeping up the back of his throat. He would have done the same thing. For the first time, he stretched his arm across the table and extended a hand to his friend. “She attacked my TEAM,” he said more gently. “We never would’ve found you if she hadn’t come after me through one of my guys.”
“Wh-what’d she do?”
“She left a severed finger in a hotel room. Said she knew where I lived, and if I gave her what she wanted, I could have the rest of ‘him’. At that time, I thought she meant you. Turns out she’d already kidnapped one of my agents. It was his finger.”
Aaron blinked. “Really? You thought of m-me?”
Alex nodded. “Your parents aren’t the only ones who’ve been looking for you.”
That seemed to get through to Aaron. “You keep saying guys and agents. You run an insurance agency or something?”
Honest mistake. Alex shook his head, not breaking eye contact. “I own a covert surveillance company that goes after bitches like Montego and assholes like her brother. Sometimes we get paid to end people like them. Sometimes we just do it because it’s the right thing to do.”
Aaron ran what remained of his left hand under his nose, then swiped that same hand on his pants. “What’d, umm, you do to piss her off?”
“Sent a couple of my guys into Cuba after her brother. One of them killed Roland in the tunnels under the Presidio Modelo.”
“I been there,” Aaron whispered, his eyes gone wide with what had to be horrific memories. “It’s an awful place, that tunnel. You… you say Roland’s dead?” It was hard not to miss the timid note of hope in his voice. “For real? He’s… d-dead?”
“And the women and children he stole and assaulted are back home with their families. Every single one of them. They’re alive. He’s not.”
Aaron leaned forward. Listening. “When’d that happen?”
“Almost a month ago.”
“Whoa,” he murmured, his gaze flitting to the left and the right, blinking like he was trying to figure things out. “That’s when she went crazy. Shit. She killed three of us in one night. Ground us up. Kept screaming and crying, howling, you know? Throwing everything that wasn’t nailed down into her chipper. Like a banshee or something.”
“More like a raving lunatic.” Alex kept his palm raised and his fingers extended, just in case. But so far Aaron hadn’t given any indication he’d seen the gesture or knew what to do with it.
“Wh-who?” Aaron asked, his voice gone soft. “Who’s the lucky SOB what killed him? He still have all his digits?”
A quiet knock at the kitchen door interrupted as Aaron’s father peered in. An older, gray-haired gentleman in wire-rimmed glasses, he looked like a weary version of Pinocchio’s father, Geppetto. “Your friend’s here.” Bruce Pope said. “Should I show him in?”
“Thank you, yes,” Alex replied as he withdrew his hand.
Aaron ducked both his hands under the table then. His face fell, and his lashes came down. Damn it. Eye contact was an integral part of this meeting. Alex regretted the loss of it.
“You okay, son?” Bruce asked, his brows pinched with worry for his boy.
“Yeah, Dad,” Aaron answered with venom, though he didn’t look his father in the eye, either. “Fine. I’m fuckin’ fine, same as I was last time you asked.”
Bruce sent Alex a fatherly look of exasperation as Seth McCray angled his bulky frame through the doorway and took the empty chair alongside Aaron.
Instantly, Aaron shifted his chair to the other end of the table, glancing sideways at Seth. Furtive. Like a kid who was afraid of being slapped or touched.
“Whew!” Seth exclaimed, his face tanned and his hair bleached from the sun. “Would’ve been here sooner, Boss, but traffic out of Logan’s a bitch.” Logan International Airport, Boston, Mass. “They screwed up my rental. Ended up with an Uber driver.”
“Glad you could make it,” Alex replied. “Just wanted you to confirm that Roland Montego can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
“Who’s asking?”
“Us,” Aaron said quietly, his eyes fixed to the table and his hands still hidden beneath it.
Seth kicked back and extended one long leg under the table. “And us would be...?” There was a day Seth had been nearly as broken as Aaron. If anyone could reach Aaron, Alex hoped he could.
Aaron stared at Alex. “Used to be USMC Corporal Aaron Pope.”
“You still are USMC Corporal Aaron Pope.” Alex offered with a nod of encouragement.
“Damn, Boss. Another jarhead?” Seth blew out a soft whistle. “You keep a hiring quota or something?”
Alex chuckled at the implication that he might have hired more of his USMC brethren over others. Which he had. But once a Marine, always a Marine.
Seth turned to Aaron. “I’ve been hearing bits and pieces of the op that went down around here. You’re the man Alex has been searching years for.” He stuck out his hand. “Good to meet you, Aaron Pope.”
Aaron jerked back. “D-d-d-d-don’t touch us.”
Understanding creased Seth’s brow. “You were abducted, weren’t you? She tortured you.”
“We’re free now,” Aaron declared though his chin quivered when he spoke.
“Damned straight you’re free. She’s in Cuba again, but her ugly-assed brother’s dead, and you’re still here. Sounds like one helluva win to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hell, yeah,” Seth replied. “I’m not one to brag about killing a guy, but Roland Montego had a bullet coming, and by hell, I’m the lucky bastard who
delivered it. Speaking of delivery, you like pizza?”
Alex nearly grinned. He hadn’t seen that not-so-subtle segue coming.
Aaron nodded, his eyes furtively seeking contact with Seth. “Umm, yeah. Haven’t had it in y-y-years, but…” His head bobbed. “Yeah. Used to like it. A lot. With icy cold beer.”
“What kinda beer?” Seth asked, his head cocked and his brows pinched. “Not that imported shit, right?”
Alex leaned back into his chair, finally at ease as he watched Seth handle Aaron like a pro.
“N-no, no,” Aaron sputtered. “Shit, no. They still make Sam Adams? That’s what I like. Sam Adams Boston Ale or any ale. Just c-c-cold. It’d be nice if it was cold.”
“Great. Then plan on poker, pizza, and a case of icy cold Sam Adams tonight,” Seth declared, his legs stretched under the table, his eyes as bright and as healthy as Alex had never seen him. Since he’d married Devereaux Shepherd, Seth was a different man. “How about I call some of the guys, and we’ll throw down here with you tonight. You good with that?”
“Shhhhh… sure,” Aaron replied. And suddenly, he lifted both hands out from under the table. Four stubs, what were left of fingers that had once been so long he’d easily palmed regulation-sized basketballs, now curled over his right hand. “But what if I can’t hold onto the c-c-cards?”
Seth noticed the sadistic result of Montego’s vicious reign, the glint of shock and sympathy a quick flash in his eyes before he covered it up. “Then I guess we’ll just have to trust you not to cheat.”
Aaron made a noise like he was choking, but damned if tears didn’t well in his eyes. He had no way of knowing it, but he’d just met the indomitable spirit behind The TEAM. Oozing confidence and reliability, Seth was proof of the magic of brotherhood, the very thing Aaron desperately needed whether he knew it or not. Just like that it happened. One brother reached out to save another, and that was all it took.
“You staying, Boss?” Seth asked, his eyes bright as a crooked smile stole over his sly mouth.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Aaron said quietly as he looked directly at Alex. “You are here. Thanks for coming. It’s sure good to see you.”
Epilogue
“Hit the damned thing!”
“Stop teaching my baby to swear,” McKenna called out even as the babe within her womb leaped.
Beau spun Isabelle Esperanza—Baby Essie for short—in a wide circle, her arms spread like a miniature airplane as she tried one more time to nail the pink donkey piñata Grandpa Rubio had gifted her with for her first birthday. She didn’t need a blindfold. The plastic baseball bat in her chubby little hand had yet to come close to making contact with ‘el burro.’
Grinning, Beau dipped her low to the ground, then tossed her high over his head and told her, “Go, baby! Go!”
Essie squealed, and McKenna’s heart took a snapshot of this perfect moment in time. The giggling angel suspended in midair. The radiant smile on her handsome husband’s gorgeous tanned face. The gleam of sunshine on his thick, dark hair, and the ever-present light in his chocolate brown eyes.
There was a time those eyes hadn’t known the grace of a smile, but those days were gone. The tender love of the child who’d just landed in his arms, beaming up at him like he was her world, had changed Beau.
He no longer cursed everyone who crossed his path, and McKenna couldn’t remember the last f-bomb he’d dropped. Out of the blue, he’d signed up for anger management classes shortly after they’d married. He was more vocal about praying, though he usually only addressed Christ. Something he still hadn’t disclosed linked him to the second deity in the Christian Godhead.
Whatever it was, Beau had an almost personal relationship with Jesus. Come to find out, he hadn’t been using His name in vain as much as relying on Him. Kind of like calling in an airstrike when all else failed during combat. McKenna suspected Beau viewed the Lord as just another PJ dropping in to save the day. It was a comforting piece to the puzzle that was Benjamin Beauregard Villanueva.
And yes, he’d repainted and re-carpeted, in crystal white no less, the entire house. It was a difficult color scheme to maintain with a messy toddler just learning to walk. But the cleanliness and the uncluttered feel of all that white was important to Beau.
As were the simplified furnishings he and McKenna had carefully selected. He’d adamantly rejected the concept of a dining room, something she suspected had to do with how he came to have a shorter, but still useful, baby finger. Instead, he’d turned that room with sliding glass doors off their kitchen into an indoor patio, complete with Adirondack chairs, a toddler-sized swing set for Essie, and a cat loft for Manny, the fluffy orange tabby McKenna had adopted from Kyrie. The lazy feline now lounged in comfort with his adopted sibling, Sid.
In the shade of the lofty honey locust beside the house, Sanders Fitzgerald and Rubio sat chatting like two loving grandfathers with the same stars in their eyes. Two cold beers and a plate of gingerbread cookies sat on the table between them. It turned out Sanders had kept a secret from McKenna, too. It all came to a head the day he’d called the police station to warn her that, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know, princess. Whatever you do, don’t come looking for me!’
He’d set her straight as soon as they’d reunited after Bambi had tried to kill her and ended up killing herself. Point blank. He’d no more than grabbed her into his arms when he’d blurted, “You’re adopted. I’m sorry, Princess. I should’ve told you a long time ago, but you never asked, and I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt you more than you already were. Blame me, not your mother. It was my fault. She couldn’t get pregnant, and she knew I wanted a family, so we adopted you as an infant, and… and...”
He’d broken down then, with McKenna still holding ‘her dad’ and wondering what the hell just happened.
“I’m adopted?” Which actually made sense of all the loose ends in her life. Her mother. Her aunts. Her maternal grandmother. Why she didn’t suffer the same mental illness. That was what always worried her the most, that one day she’d fall off the deep end and hurt the tiny patients in her care. Being told she’d been adopted was actually a relief. Of sorts.
But by then, Sanders had been a mess, he’d cried so hard. “Are you disappointed?” he’d asked, which her heart interpreted to mean, ‘Do you still love me?’
So yes, she forgave him on the spot. “Adoption doesn’t change what I feel about you. You’ll always be my first love, and I know you’ve always loved me,” she told him sincerely. “It doesn’t change anything, except now I can look for my birth parents. Who knows? Maybe they’ve been looking for me like Rubio and Essie searched all of Beau’s life for him.”
Which made Sanders cry harder.
“I love you, Dad,” she told him. “Forever and ever.”
To which he replied, “Amen, Princess. Amen.”
Fast forward to now, with Baby Essie chortling as she bounced against her father’s belly for that elusive more. It was like watching a gentle giant with his tiny elfin princess, the way Beau cradled her protectively into his chest. The way he closed his eyes every time he kissed the mass of thick, dark brown curls on the top of her head. The way he looked across their yard, his sharp sniper eyes always searching for McKenna. The man was simply made to protect the people he cherished. His love and devotion for sweet little Almond Joy had programmed him early in life to be the man he was today. And McKenna had never felt more cherished.
Once their gazes locked onto each other, she melted. Her heart hammered, and her breath caught. No woman on earth had it better than she did. And McKenna had it bad—for him.
She blew him a kiss while Grandma Essie tsked and wiped her hands on her apron as she settled to the picnic table with McKenna. “He treats that little girl like she’s a boy. I tell him to be more careful, but my son is so strong. I know he will not drop that baby, but I worry. The way that son of mine handles his daughter is too much f
or this old heart some days. It’s good this next little one is a boy, si?”
“Shhhhh, Mama V. I haven’t told him we’re having a son yet,” McKenna whispered as she joined hands with Beau’s mother and nodded toward the sexy man under discussion.
But Karma had a way of making even impossible dreams come true. Grandma Essie and Grandpa Rubio had moved into the quaint mother-in-law bungalow just off the lavish home Beau had bought for his new family. His brothers had all arrived for McKenna’s wedding to their brother, and what a day that was. All four boys were physical works of art, fit for a gallery and a private showing. But Beau outshone his three brothers in height, sheer muscle mass, and that rugged, bad-boy sex appeal that he wore as easily as an old shirt.
Their initial meeting had been awkward, but by then, McKenna was six months pregnant with Baby Essie. One look at her belly and the brothers swarmed Beau with congratulations, clapped his back, hugged him, and promised to always be there for him.
Diego in particular. As the oldest, he’d been charged with making sure Baby Beau stayed safe at the rest stop that fateful day. When Bass took Beau, Diego’s screams alerted Rubio and Essie. But by the time they’d run back to the truck, Beau was gone. Diego still had nightmares. Once he had his arms around Beau, he broke down. Robert and Mateo fell apart, too. Like the loving brothers they were, they’d never forgotten Beau. They’d blamed themselves for failing him.
That reunion was another Kodak moment McKenna would never forget, the Villanueva family huddled together in tears with Beau smack in the center of all that love. Right where he belonged.
Then Mother surprised the life out of Beau, when she sent another one-of-a-kind wedding present from the Pacific island where she was taking an extended leave of absence. She never said how she came to find it, but McKenna suspected the original came from the Las Vegas investigator she’d hired. It was a magnificent oil painting, on canvas. Almond Joy’s pretty face now hung in the family room surrounded by Baby Essie’s pictures. Whoever had snapped the image had caught AJ with her thumb in her mouth. Her blue eyes were smiling straight into the camera. Despite the dark shadows under those eyes, she looked angelic and happy. The artist Mother had hired to do the painting managed to make AJ look ethereal, as if she truly were Beau’s angel baby.
Beau (In the Company of Snipers Book 18) Page 41
