Breaking Away (Military Romantic Suspense) (Book 3 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers)

by Teresa Reasor

  “I’ll drop you in one of the inlets, and you can climb up to the coastal road and avoid the police. After I dock the boat at the marina, I’ll pick you up.”

  “I can get to the house under my own steam.”

  “Not looking like that,” Travis said, with a scowl. “Everyone who sees you will remember the guy whose head looks like an eggplant. You could have died from the concussion.”

  “I thought about that and decided to give it a pass.”

  Travis shook his head and grinned. “Sometimes I think you’re more like me than any of my kids.”

  “Not so. Javier may look like ‘Nita but he’s definitely got a streak of you in him. He wouldn’t have volunteered to run the boat back into San Diego for me if he didn’t.” He kept what Javier had said about slipping around the old man to himself. Brothers watched each other’s backs. “Javier would enlist in a heartbeat if ‘Nita wouldn’t bitch about it.”

  “Over the years she’s put up with enough with me being deployed and now you.”

  Flash could understand that. The life was hard on families. He’d signed up because Travis had shown him a way of life that fed his wild streak and still kept him on the right side of legal. Until Travis and Juanita had come into his life, he’d been on his way to possibly doing something stupid enough to get sent to jail. He’d been damn lucky to avoid it. Ten years later he was using his tech skills and his sniper skills to protect his country. And he got to blow shit up, too.

  Flash studied the coastline, with its rugged patches of volcanic rock and clear blue water. Travis pointed toward a gray whale on the starboard side. The huge animal surfaced, sending spray in the air, then dove, its shape a dark shadow moving out to sea.

  “This isn’t a bad place to be until you get things squared away,” Travis said.

  It just wasn’t where he needed to be. He had to get back to his team.

  Travis nodded as though he read the thought. Twenty minutes later he guided the J.G. into a cove close to one of the public beaches. “If you head up past that outcropping of rock, you can follow the property line to the hotel. Walk up to the road and I’ll be by to pick you up in about twenty minutes. ‘Nita is waiting for me to bring you home.”

  Flash reached behind him to remove the gun he had tucked into his waistband and handed it to Travis. “There’s a hundred thousand reasons why you shouldn’t get stopped at the marina,” Flash said. “I couldn’t leave the money on Bowie’s boat, and I couldn’t waltz into my bank at home and open an account or rent a safety deposit box. If it looks like things are going to go sideways, dump the duffle over the side.”

  He climbed down the ladder, swung around to toe himself along the narrow ledge to the bow of the boat. Travis nosed closer to shore. Flash tugged his ball cap from his back pocket and pulled it on. He flipped his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and eased them on. He waved to Travis, signaling close enough, and leaped into the warm Pacific water.

  He trudged through the surf to the large outcropping of rock that Travis had mentioned. He glanced over his shoulder to see Travis backing the boat into deep water and swinging it to port.

  The sand clung to his shoes in a crust that weighted them. He waited until he’d reached the sparse grass that met the beach and beat each heel against a rock to knock it off. He was reminded of being soaking wet and rolling in the sand until he was covered like a sugar cookie during BUD/S. It had scraped the skin off in uncomfortable places and gotten in his eyes, but he had survived. He’d worked his ass off to make it through BUD/S and then through sniper training.

  He was going to get back to his team, no matter what he had to do to make it happen. He’d just have to find a way to contact NCIS without getting thrown in the brig and turned over to the FBI.

  He worked his way around a clump of palms and climbed the hill to the hotel Travis had mentioned. The Spanish-style building was typical of the area, as were the terracotta shingles. Wide, arched doors and windows were set symmetrically across the front of the two-story building and the flowerbeds were sculpted in an artistic plan of color and texture with layered areas of dahlias, ornamental grasses, regional cactus, and agave.

  The scent of ocean tinged air, and the perfume of the blossoms blended with the mouth-watering aroma of grilled fish from somewhere in the hotel. His stomach growled, and he had an instant craving for ‘Nita’s enchiladas and chili verde.

  He kept to the shadowed areas of the grounds and strolled past the parking lot toward the road. He settled behind one of the palms, his back to the road.

  His pants legs were almost dry by the time he spotted Travis’s truck. He hustled to his feet and jogged to the edge of the road, cut in front of the vehicle as soon as it pulled to a stop and got in.

  “I can almost smell ‘Nita’s enchiladas,” he said.

  “You look as though you could use a week or two of them. The first thing you need to do is get back to fighting form.”

  He had lost weight just in the last few days. This thing was eating him up inside. “I will.”

  Twenty minutes later they pulled up in front of a hacienda-style, three-story home. The garage doors were open, and parked inside was a white and blue police car with the Baja city logo on the side. And walking toward them was one of their officers, dressed in a black t-shirt with Baja Police printed on one side of his chest.

  Flash’s heartbeat shot up to the speed of a cruise missile.

  “There’s something I meant to tell you, Flash.”

  His insides twisted as Travis’s betrayal became evident.

  “What have you done, Trav?”

  CHAPTER 11

  Las Vegas

  Ellen set the newspaper on the bed beside Sam. “Your father-in-law has been dragged into the investigation. He’s coming off as an arrogant ass.”

  “That’s no surprise, since he is one.” Sam picked up the newspaper and scanned the headline. Las Vegas Judge Investigated for Obstruction.

  Sam tilted her head back against the pillow, and rested her hand on the paper. Weakness infused every bone and muscle of her body. Her neck felt like it had been wrenched. Muscles screamed at every small move. She thought after the first two days the worst of the bruising would have shown itself, but it continued to darken and creep along her body, forming a map of abuse. Every punch and kick was evident. At least the vision in her left eye had finally cleared.

  She’d crept into the bathroom earlier, and, using her phone, had taken a picture of every bruise and mark, just as Tammi Mai had. If the police photos disappeared, she’d have a record of her own. From now on, she also would record every telephone conversation and interaction she had with the Cross family. She was through being their victim.

  Just thinking those words sent a shiver of fear and uncertainty through her. She had crumbled before the pressure her in-laws put on her in the past, her fear of losing Joy their biggest weapon. But now that Henry Moreland was no longer in a position to help them, she might have a chance.

  “It’s almost time to go,” Ellen said and touched Sam’s hand.

  Sam studied her grandmother’s features. She seemed a little pale this morning, and stress had marched across her face, leaving deep furrows around her mouth. And she had lost weight since Sam had last seen her. “Are you okay, Gran?”

  “I’m fine, honey.”

  Something in her smile didn’t quite convince Sam. But entertaining a four-year-old was exhausting if you weren’t used to it. And Gran was sixty-four, though she still looked much younger.

  Sam’s attention strayed to Joy as she sat on the foot of the bed watching cartoons. Her white-blonde hair hung in soft curls down each side of her face. Her blue eyes were focused on the television, a slight smile curving her lips. She was such a sweet-natured child. She’d stay that way, too, as long as she wasn’t influenced by Will and his parents.

  Sam had practically slept through the day yesterday. But today was a new beginning, and no matter how bad her pain, it was time to pull things t
ogether.

  She rolled onto her side and slid her legs off the edge of the bed, then pushed herself up into a sitting position. Though her ribs hurt every time she breathed, she gasped in a breath, and forced herself to her feet. Once vertical, she felt every ache, but focused on straightening her cotton blouse and slacks.

  “I’ll go brush my hair.”

  Ellen nodded, then sat down next to Joy.

  “Fweddie and Sawah are watching Dora,” Joy said her voice high-pitched and appealing. She stuck her index fingers up in the air to show Ellen the two little people stuck on the end of them.

  “Is Dora their favorite?” Ellen asked.

  “Ah-huh.”

  “Is she your favorite?” she asked.

  “Ah-huh.”

  Sam listened to them debate whether Dora’s hair would look better blonde like Joy’s and smiled. There was no stress in her child’s voice. She didn’t babble like a baby. She was talking in complete sentences and actually laughing. A tightness, one she hadn’t even realized she was experiencing, eased.

  Even though she had to place every step with care, Sam smiled when she came out of the bathroom. “What are you two going to do while I’m talking to the lawyer?”

  “There’s a pizza place nearby with games and things. I thought I’d take Joy and let her play.”

  “She’s never been. She’ll love it. Won’t you, baby?”

  “What kind of games?” Joy asked, the question tentative, and her features edged with anxiety.

  Sam knelt in front of her. “It’s just a place for you to eat pizza and there are video games, but there are other games just for children your age, too. Grandma El will be with you and teach you how to play. As soon as I’m done at the lawyer’s office, I’ll call and you can come get me. Okay?”

  Joy studied her face with anxious eyes. “’Kay.”

  Sam leaned close to hold her as tears threatened for them both. “Momma and Grandma El will never ever let anything hurt you, Joy. If you don’t like it there, she’ll take you to McDonald’s.”

  “’Kay.”

  “Let’s get your shoes on.”

  “I do it, Momma.” She slid down off the bed and trotted away to get her tennis shoes.

  Sam struggled to her feet.

  Ellen gave her arm a squeeze. “She’s just like you were at that age. Independent. Despite everything that’s happened, she’s a strong little girl, Sam. She’s going to be just fine.”

  If she could keep her from becoming a pawn in all this. Joy’s protection would be Sam’s main focus when she spoke with her lawyer.

  Joy tugged the Velcro straps that secured her shoes and scrambled to her feet. “All done!”

  “Good job, Tumble Bug,” Ellen said and offered her a hand.

  The three of them left the motel and strolled across the parking lot to the car. After getting Joy secured and settled, Sam eased into the front seat next to her grandmother. The trip from the room to the car had already depleted Sam’s reserves, and she dropped her head back against the headrest. Ellen pulled the car out onto Rainbow Boulevard and turned north to hit West Tropicana to the strip. Sam pretended to concentrate on the passing scenery while the thousand questions she needed to ask the attorney raced through her mind.

  The twenty-minute trip passed all too quickly. Her pulse spiked as the car came to a stop in front of the building. She was afraid to dwell on it too long for fear she’d freeze and not be able to get out of the car. “I’ll call you as soon as my meeting is over, Gran,” Sam managed around the knot in her throat as she got out. She clung to the car door for a few seconds to make sure her balance was steady.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Ellen asked.

  “I’m sure. Little miss might get restless. It will be easier if she’s distracted.”

  Ellen nodded.

  “Bring me back some pizza.”

  “We will.”

  Sam leaned into the car. “Stay with Grandma El, Joy. Have a good time. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “Bye-bye, Mommy.”

  “Bye, baby.” Sam slammed the door and watched them pull away and turn at the end of the block. Just being separated from her grandmother and Joy made her anxiety spike.

  When she turned to face the building, her heart raced as if she’d run a marathon, and for a moment she couldn’t catch her breath, so she tried distracting herself with insignificant details.

  The structure was seven stories high. All glass and concrete, the façade stretched heavenward, smooth and shiny. Her fingers gripped her shoulder bag strap like a lifeline. Her legs felt weak and rubbery as she shuffled to the main entrance and tugged it open. In the open entrance foyer, modern cream-colored couches and chrome, glass topped tables mirroring the exterior of the building were arranged in groupings.

  Sam pulled her long hair forward around her cheek to hide the bruises from the people sitting there, and walked to a check-in desk. The woman who sat behind it eyed her injuries but said nothing. She offered Sam a pen to sign in, told her the office number, and directed her down a wide hallway to the elevators.

  The elevator door opened and Sam ducked her head as two people got out. She stepped in before the doors could close and pushed the button for the second floor. The elevator rose, opened, and a wide hall stretched before her with a plaque on the wall designating office numbers. She pulled the scrap of paper from her bag to double-check even though the woman downstairs had told her the number.

  Finding it just a few doors down the hall, she leaned against the wall for just a moment. She knew she had to take this step, but it was so hard to know whom she could trust.

  The firm’s receptionist’s desk sat to the right of a suite of offices decorated in dark blue and khaki. The woman there acknowledged her appointment and instructed her to take a seat.

  Sand-colored drapes covered a large bank of windows that ran the length of the room, allowing warm light to come into the space without the glare. Dark blue couches and two overstuffed khaki chairs sat at angles before a large solid wood coffee table.

  Sam chose one of the chairs, hoping it would be easier and less painful to get out of than the couch, which was lower.

  The longer she studied the expensive décor, the more anxious she became. She’d never be able to afford this lawyer’s fees. This was a mistake. It was time to get out of here.

  “Mrs. Cross?”

  Sam glanced up to see an older man approaching her.

  “I’m Benjamin Keith, Samantha. You can call me Ben.”

  He extended his hand and she took it briefly, though she glanced away, embarrassed by the injuries she knew he was seeing.

  “Come into my office and we’ll talk.”

  Sam eased forward on the cushion and gripped the arm of the chair to lever herself out of the seat. Benjamin Keith stepped in to gently take her arm and help her rise. When he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and guided her into his office, the urge to cry rose up and nearly choked her. He urged her into a striped chair of blue, green and beige in front of his desk.

  “I won’t be able to pay you right away,” she managed, her voice hoarse.

  “We’re not going to worry about that right now.” He moved around the large oak desk and sat down.

  “I’m concerned about my daughter. My husband and his family will try to take her from me.”

  “We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  The deliberate calm in his voice soothed her fear, and she drew as deep a breath as she could in an attempt to calm herself. She ran the strap of her purse through her fingers.

  “Tammi Mai contacted me about you. She told me to expect your call.”

  Sam jerked her head up, then flinched as the sudden move wreaked havoc with her neck. “She gave me your number,” she said in acknowledgment.

  “Your husband is still in jail at the moment, but he’ll probably be released on bail tomorrow morning.”

  Sam bit her lip. “The po
lice said I’d have to file an order of protection with a judge.”

  “That will be the first thing we’re going to take care of today,” the lawyer replied calmly.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to give you a contract to sign. It says that you are giving me the authority to act on your behalf as your attorney.” He withdrew a single piece of paper from a file on his desk and handed it to her. “You can read that while I get us something to drink. Water? A soft drink? Tea? What would you like? You look as though you could use some sugar in your system. How ‘bout a soft drink?”

  A little overwhelmed by him, by everything, Sam simply nodded. She turned to the document and read it. She had expected something with a great deal of legalese, but the contract was straightforward and easily understood. She read over the financial part of the document, a single paragraph, twice. It said she could pay what she could afford, when she could afford it, up to a hundred dollars. Her throat felt tight and her breathing labored. When something was too good to be true, it usually was.

  Ben dropped a coaster on the edge of the desk and placed a glass brimming with fizz on it. “Any questions?”

  He sat down in the chair next to her. His dark eyes studied every inch of her features with a sweep, and Sam had to fight to keep her gaze steady. “Why are you making this so easy?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Because up until this time nothing has been easy for you. Has it?”

  Sam shook her head.

  “And because twelve years ago my son-in-law, in a fit of rage, beat my daughter to death. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”

  It took several moments before she could speak. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He was arrested, put on trial, and is serving a ten-year sentence. He’s due to be paroled in a few weeks.” Ben looked away toward a strip of blue sky barely visible between the edges of the curtains. His pain was hidden, but Sam recognized it in the lines of grief that cut around his mouth and the look in his dark eyes. She fished in her bag for a pen, signed the contract and handed it to him.