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

by Teresa Reasor

  “Do you have a dollar bill?” he asked.

  Sam riffled through her bag and opened her billfold. Inside were two tens and five one-dollar bills. All the money she had in the world. She pulled one of the bills free.

  He plucked it from her fingers and put it with the contract. “I’m your attorney now.”

  She nodded. “I need a restraining order, I want a divorce, I want custody of my daughter, and I want Will Cross and his family permanently out of my life. Can you help me get those things?”

  “We’ll work on the first three and then see what we can do about the fourth thing on your list.”

  She nodded. “Good.”

  “Are you out on your own or are you staying at a shelter?” he asked.

  “We’re going to my grandmother’s house after this meeting. I didn’t want to go to a shelter. I thought they might say I couldn’t provide a roof over Joy’s head if we stayed there.”

  Ben frowned. “You might be safer at a shelter. The reality is that the protective order is issued to keep the abuser from getting close. But the police can’t really do anything until he’s broken it.”

  “I know how much I can depend on the police to protect me.” It was impossible to keep the bitterness out of her tone. “I can protect myself at my grandmother’s house.”

  “How do you plan to do that, Samantha?” he asked.

  She remained silent for a moment. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to, Mr. Keith. Will Cross has had his final chance to raise his hand to me. And he’s threatened my daughter and my grandmother for the last time.”

  “If something happens, be sure to call me right away.”

  Samantha nodded.

  “This won’t be easy. We have a lot of work to do.”

  “After the last four years, the only thing that could be harder would be if I lost my daughter. Chaney Cross has a lot of money and a lot of political pull here in Vegas.”

  “I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Samantha. This will probably be even harder than you expect. You have to prepare yourself for that.”

  Her stomach clenched as fear threatened to overwhelm her. She attempted to draw a breath and her hand automatically went to her ribs, pain burning up her side. “Tell me what I have to do.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Baja, California

  Flash breathed in the aroma of sizzling butter, fried onions and peppers as he poured himself an orange juice. Juanita stood at the stove folding an omelet filled with cheese, peppers, onions and tomatoes. He paused next to her to brush a kiss against her soft cheek.

  She stood a little over five feet, the top of her head was on a level with him mid-chest. From this angle, he noticed the gray threading through her hair. He didn’t know why it bothered him that she and Travis were both getting older. He was too.

  She reached up and patted his jaw. “Your breakfast will be ready en un momento.”

  “No rush.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  “This beard you are growing makes you look muy macho.”

  “I’m thinking of dying it red. What do you think?”

  Juanita laughed.

  Josh Gallagher sauntered into the kitchen, dressed again in his dark Baja Police t-shirt and pants. “You’re not trying to sweet-talk her into giving you my omelet, are you?” He took a seat at the kitchen table.

  Flash grinned and glanced over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t do something like that, would I?”

  Josh’s hair and eyes were as dark as his mother’s, but he bore a striking resemblance to his father. Seeing him stride toward the truck the first day he’d arrived had caused Flash a major pucker moment. Then Josh had whipped off the mirrored glasses and baseball hat. He’d had to wrestle with himself hard to resist the urge to pound on Travis in reaction.

  Later, when he could both breathe and speak, Flash had flipped the design on Josh’s t-shirt. “You wear this pretty well.”

  Josh had grinned. “You serve in your way, bro, and I’ll serve in mine.”

  Flash could understand that.

  Having dual citizenship, and being fluent in both English and Spanish, his foster brothers could work effectively in either country. They seemed to fit in anywhere they went. Which was more than he’d done while growing up.

  Juanita slid the omelet on a plate and Flash scooped it up, grabbed two slices of toast as the popped up, sauntered over to the table and took a seat next to Josh. At the last moment he shoved the plate in front of his brother. Juanita shot him a grin and pointed the spatula at him. “Yours will be ready next, querido.”

  “Gracias, Mamacita.”

  “You forgot to butter my toast,” Josh complained, then changed direction, “I’ve been thinking about what that FBI asshole said on the video. What if part of it was true, but the drugs are being shipped in across the border here? It would make more sense.”

  Flash toyed with the salt and peppershakers. “You mean, why would they need to ship drugs in from Iraq, with all that’s available further south?”

  “Aren’t FBI guys taught that every time you tell a lie you add a grain of truth, just so the whole thing sounds more believable?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been an FBI guy. But I’ve worked with some who can lie double-time and make you believe it. Gilbert is not that skilled.”

  Josh shoved a bite of egg coated with cheese and peppers into his mouth and chewed. “It’s only been a couple of weeks since you sent the phone and artifacts, and one week since you sent a copy of the video feed from the apartment. But you’d think they’d want to get right on something like this.”

  “The Navy moves at its own pace, which is usually slow and slower. It’ll be at least a month before I hear anything, if I hear anything at all. I’m AWOL. They’ll probably be more interested in arresting me and throwing me in the brig than dealing with a dirt bag FBI guy.”

  Josh shook his head. “You’ve grown cynical, bro.

  Had he really hidden that much of himself from his foster brothers? Flash lowered his voice, his gaze on Juanita. “The idea of spending time in a military jail has a way of fucking with your head.” Especially when you were trying to do the right thing. “I’ll be moving on in a few days.”

  “You can’t do that, Flash. If NCIS comes a-courting, they’ll need to be able to contact you.”

  “I’ll figure something out. I don’t want you guys involved in this.”

  Juanita slid an omelet in front of him. “We already are. If it affects you, it affects us.”

  Shit! He should have stayed away. At one time he’d have gone solo and just muddled through. But being a part of Travis’s family, being part of a SEAL team, had changed him. He’d learned to depend on other people.

  Was he putting these people in danger by being here? Any time drugs were involved, it usually involved guns and danger.

  “You are like un perro worrying a bone,” Juanita complained.

  Flash grinned at the comparison.

  “Eat,” Juanita urged. “Then you can help me with the yard work until Travis returns from his charter.”

  Yard work beat pacing the floors or sitting in front of the television. With his lighter skin and sun-bleached hair, he’d been wary of being seen coming and going from the Gallaghers’ house, in case someone noticed. So that meant going out only at night or sticking around the house, or hanging out around the fenced-in pool out back.

  “Don’t let Momma work you too hard,” Josh said as he rose.

  “I got this covered.” Juanita pointed a finger at Josh. “You take care of you.”

  Flash looked at Josh, and, catching his expression of surprise, broke out laughing.

  Josh grinned. “I will, Momma. Gotta go.” He took his dishes to the sink rinsed them and placed them in the dishwasher. With another grin and wave he was gone.

  Flash finished breakfast, cleaned up his dishes and then followed Juanita to the garden. “What do you need done, ‘Nita?”

  “I need you to find some young woman an
d get married and settle down and have babies with her and stop this foolishness. I worry about you as much as I do Josh, now that he is policía.”

  Flash stared at her, speechless. Whoa, where had this come from?

  When she burst into tears, his heart stuttered and he moved to hug her. He said the only thing he could. “It’s going to be okay, ‘Nita.”

  “You risk your life. People shoot at you. Your head is hurt.”

  “It’s almost healed now. I’m going to be fine.” In the last two weeks the bruising had turned from black and purple to blue and green. And the swelling had receded, so he looked less like a monster. But he was going to have a scar. His hair would eventually cover it, but it would be a reminder for the rest of his life. “I’m going to work this out, ‘Nita. I promise.”

  “You deserve better than this,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

  Did he? Every time something bad happened he wondered if he was paying for all the shit he’d gotten into earlier in life. The stealing, lying, cheating. The scams. Had it not been for ‘Nita and Travis, he’d be in jail right now.

  His phone buzzed against his side. He tugged the cell free of his belt and looked at the number “I have to take this, ‘Nita. It’s Josh.” Flipping the phone open, he hit the button.

  “They’re here, asking around. Two agents from NCIS.” Josh sounded excited. “I have a number for you.”

  “Hold on, I have to get something to write with.”

  Nita pulled away and wiped her face. “I’ll get something.” She rushed into the house and returned with a pen and pad.

  Flash jotted down the number. “Thanks, Josh.”

  “I’ll be on patrol, but I’ll have my cell. If you need backup, just call.”

  He wouldn’t call. They both knew that. But the fact that his brother offered meant a lot. “Will do.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Flash flipped the phone shut, tore the sheet of paper off, and handed her the pad. “I have to get my stuff ready, just in case, ‘Nita.” He stuffed the number into his pocket.

  She nodded, though her eyes clouded again.

  “I’m sorry I can’t help with the garden.”

  “Travis and the boys will do this.”

  Flash hugged her tight for a moment and placed a quick kiss against her forehead. She’d been the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had. “I’ll be careful. I promise. But I can’t go prison, ‘Nita. I haven’t done anything wrong.” If he went to jail, once someone found out he’d been a SEAL, he’d run one gauntlet after another. He’d have to kill someone to defend himself and he’d end up being in there the rest of his life. He couldn’t go there. “I can’t make the call from here, they’ll be monitoring cell phone service.”

  She nodded. “Come home when you get this settled.”

  “I will, I promise.” He gave her another quick squeeze. He forced himself to turn away from her and hustled to his room. He threw his clothes into his backpack with his computer and phone charger. Next, he dragged the duffle full of money out from under the bed. He picked up his motorcycle helmet, then paused to search the room for anything he might have missed. Reaching beneath the mattress, he extracted his Sig and shoved it into his waistband at the small of his back.

  He shrugged into his windbreaker, slung the backpack over his shoulder, and lifted the duffle. When he came back into the kitchen Juanita waited at the kitchen table, composed but unhappy.

  “Tell Travis I’ll call later and keep you posted on what’s happening.”

  “I will.”

  With a softball-sized knot in his chest, he set aside his baggage and leaned down to hold her again for a moment. He said the words he’d never said to another living soul but her. “I love you.”

  “No matter what happens, you can always come home to us, mijo.”

  “I know. I will when I can.”

  He went out the side door into the garage, where his bike was parked. He dialed Travis’s phone, got his voice mail and left him a message, then secured the duffle and backpack to the back of his bike and hit the garage door opener next to the kitchen door. Early morning light spilled into the garage, bringing with it the smell of the sea and the bright red flowers planted along the edge of the driveway.

  What if he never saw them again? A wave of pain rolled over him. When someone asked he always said he didn’t have a family. Was that because he still felt he didn’t deserve one? Whether or not he did, Travis, ‘Nita and the boys had made him part of theirs. But if he continued to stay, he might bring more than the law down on their heads. Gilbert was in with some bad people. If only half of what he’d said was true, it was a drug cartel. And no one came back from hooking up with them.

  He had to do whatever would protect the Gallaghers. He straddled the Triumph Sprint GT and started the engine. He shoved off the kickstand and paused to listen to the purr of the motor. He needed to find a way back to his life and them. That meant he had to distance himself from them until he found the answer. He released the clutch, pushed on the gas, and cruised out of the garage.

  Flash worked his way downhill, weaving through the streets, careful to stick to the speed limit. He hit Highway 1 and followed it along the coast to the Autonomous University of Baja, just as he and Travis had planned. After parking in one of the first lots he came to, he cut off the ignition and took off his helmet. His heart beat like a drum as he set his number to be permanently private and keyed in the agent’s digits.

  “Special Agent Barnett speaking.”

  The no-nonsense, military edge to the way he spoke loosened the taut knots in Flash’s stomach somewhat, but not entirely. “This is Lieutenant Junior Grade Harold Carney. I heard you were looking for me.”

  “We received your packages, Lieutenant, and found them very interesting. Are you recovering from your injuries? Do you need medical care?”

  “I’m okay, for now.”

  “We need you to come in so we can talk.”

  “I’d prefer you come to me. And I’d like proof you are who you say you are.”

  “You can call the main switchboard at NCIS and ask to speak to Senior Special Agent Isaac Green. He’s our supervisor. Give your name and he’ll be sure to answer. He can give you a detailed description of us and acknowledge that we’re down here because of what you sent us.”

  “I’ll call you back with a meeting location.” Flash closed the phone, then opened it again to get the number. It took only a few minutes to dial and be connected to Supervisor Green.

  “This is Special Agent Isaac Green. I’ve sent two agents down to Ensenada to look for you, Lieutenant,” Green said by way of introduction.

  “I’ve spoken with them. I’m calling to confirm that they are in the vicinity, and to get a description of the agents before we meet.”

  “Very good.” He proceeded to give Flash a detailed description of his people. A man and a woman.

  “We’ve spoken to Captain Jackson and made him aware of your difficulties, Lieutenant. And he’s shared the letter you mailed him the day of the operation. Did something happen to alert you?”

  “Just a feeling. Am I still listed as AWOL?”

  “For the moment. We don’t want to change your status. It might alert Gilbert that you have contacted us.”

  Flash clenched his jaw against the need to vent. “I’m not a deserter, sir. But I couldn’t stick around with him and his men hunting me.”

  “Understood. Meet with my agents, Lieutenant, for an interview, and we’ll get this sorted out.”

  Sorted out! Sorted out? “I’ve given you proof against him, sir. What part of that needs sorting out?”

  “Your part in this, Lieutenant.”

  “I was approached in Iraq by Agents Dobson and Gilbert to bring artifacts back to the states. I received an email from headquarters saying my orders had been changed to reflect my involvement. If you’d check the record, you’ll verify that.”

  “We’ll check your orders, Lieut
enant. Meet with my agents so they can debrief you.”

  Surely they’d already checked his orders. Alarm bells rang in the back of his mind. He hung up the phone and rested his head against the storage hatch over the gas tank. He’d hoped…

  He flipped his phone open and dialed Agent Barnett’s phone. “Have you checked the orders that were issued at the end of my deployment in Iraq?” he asked as soon as the man answered.

  “There were no orders issued, Lieutenant.”

  Flash absorbed that and shook his head. “Give me your email address.”

  Barnett spelled it out for him and Flash keyed it into his phone so he wouldn’t forget it.

  “I’ll email you a message that was sent to me in Iraq stating otherwise. You’ll need to trace the IP address to find where the message originated. The orders I was given are in a safety deposit box at a bank in San Diego. If the FBI have found it—”

  “You need to come in, Lieutenant Carney.”

  “Sure, I’ll jump right on that so you can throw me into the brig and mark this off your to-do list. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was asked to work with the FBI and I agreed. If I come in now, I’m a dead man. You know who Gilbert is involved with.”

  “We know who you suspect he’s involved with, Lieutenant.”

  What more did he have to do to clear himself? If NCIS was only interested in throwing him in the brig, they suspected him of being a part of it all. And the way it looked now, they’d bury him. He couldn’t turn himself in. Not yet.

  He closed the phone.

  PART TWO

  OF

  BREAKING AWAY

  A ROAD LESS WEARY

  CHAPTER 13

  SEVEN MONTHS LATER

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Flash struggled to open his eyes. He had to open his eyes. Some psychological trigger alerted him that what he was experiencing was a dream. But knowing it was a dream and breaking away from its hold were two different things.

  The sound of the explosion was like dark thunder in his ears. The cloud of dust it kicked up rolled over him. Three of them were dead. They had to be. His heart beat high in his throat. He rolled to his feet and grabbed his gear. The grit in his mouth threatened to choke him. He spit and swallowed to clear the dust scratching his throat. The stairs stretched dark as a tomb beneath him. He breathed in the musty, sour air and rushed down.