My Protector (Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL Book 5)

by Layla Valentine

  “Shadow?” Dad says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a name?”

  “It’s a nickname,” Shadow says. “I got it when I was in the service.”

  “What branch?”

  “Navy.”

  Dad grunts. Having been in the Army, I’m sure he would have felt more inclined to trust a fellow soldier than a sailor. He trusts Joel, though, and suddenly I wonder how much he knows about Joel’s military past.

  “Dad,” I say. “I think he’s telling the truth. Joel told me about his friend Shadow from the Navy.”

  Shadow nods, looking relieved. “That’s me.”

  “But what are you doing here?” I ask. “Joel didn’t say you were involved in our protection, or even that you worked with him. He didn’t even tell me you were a cop. He just mentioned that the two of you had served together.” I don’t add the part about Shadow having saved Joel’s life. I have a feeling that if he knows I know that part of the story, he won’t try as hard to prove himself, and I can see by the look on Dad’s face that he still needs a little persuading.

  “I wasn’t involved,” Shadow says. “Not until today. But Joel and I go back a long way. We served together like you said. We’d both do anything for each other. So when he called me and said he needed a favor, I didn’t hesitate to get involved. Besides, I know cops in this precinct, and from what he told me, it sounds like the two of you have some criminal activity you might want to report.” He looks from Dad to me and back. “Probably best to talk about it while we travel, though.”

  I follow Shadow to the door, but Dad hangs back. “This doesn’t seem right,” he says quietly. “Jenna, hold on a minute.”

  Shadow’s face is tight, and his body is at attention. “I explained to you that we’re in a hurry, didn’t I?” he says. “Joel was clear about this part. He stressed it to me several times. We need to move fast. This house is no longer safe for the two of you.”

  “Dad,” I say, “We can trust him. Come on. Joel did tell me about him. They’re old friends.”

  “Just because they were friends, it doesn’t mean they’re working together now,” Dad says. He’s speaking slowly, almost as if he’s trying to delay things, and I recognize the look on his face as one he wears when he’s solving a puzzle. “What Joel told me,” he says, “was that nobody else would ever come to this cabin. He said he was the only one who had the location, and that it was going to stay that way. He and I would be the only ones to come here.”

  “And your daughter,” Shadow corrects, seemingly automatically.

  I blink. That sounded like Shadow thought Joel put me here from the beginning. Did Joel not explain what I did? I was assuming he had called Shadow to bring us back because I ran away, but if that’s the case, wouldn’t Shadow know that I was supposed to be at another safe house? I’m not sure what to make of it. I can see by Dad’s expression that he noticed too, and Shadow’s statement raised the same questions in his mind as it did in mine.

  “What Joel said,” Dad says, still speaking slowly, still wearing his puzzle-solving expression, “was that he would be the only visitor to the cabin, and if anyone else knocked, I wasn’t to open the door.” I see something cross his face and know that he’s realized something, and I want to ask him what it is, but he goes on speaking. “But I did open the door,” he says. “I went against Joel’s orders by letting you in.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Shadow says quickly. “Those original orders no longer apply, not in light of the new situation.”

  “No,” Dad says. “Joel knew he told me not to answer the door, so if he was sending someone to the cabin, he wouldn’t have had them knock. He would have thought of some other way for you to signal me and let me know that it was safe to let you in.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Shadow says. His voice is tense now, and as he steps toward us, we both automatically step back. “I have a phone in the car. We’ll call Joel, and he can explain everything.”

  But Dad shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says.

  I close my eyes, wishing Joel was here, wishing he could somehow let us know what the right choice is. This is all my fault for leaving him chained to that pipe. If Shadow is telling the truth and Joel did call him, then I’m the one who made Joel feel like he needed to do it. And if Shadow is lying to us, we have no hope of Joel coming to our rescue, and that’s my fault too. Either way, I’m starting to agree with my father. Shadow’s story doesn’t feel right, and even if he is Joel’s old friend from the Navy, I don’t want to go with him.

  “What are you talking about?” Shadow says. The muscles in his neck are bulging, and his face is getting red. “I told you already: my instructions came from Joel, so this is what he wants. And time is of the essence. We really can’t stand around discussing this any longer. I know you’re aware of who’s after you, Fred. The danger you’re in. Do you really want to gamble like this with your life? Your daughter’s life?”

  “Leave her out of it.” Dad seems just as angry as Shadow now. “I don’t believe your instructions are from Joel. I don’t know who you are or what you want—my daughter seems to think you’re telling the truth about your identity, at least, but something doesn’t add up here. We’re not coming with you unless you can explain to our satisfaction why the plan has changed.”

  “There isn’t time for that,” Shadow says. “As I told you before, I’d be happy to explain everything once we’re in the car, but we need to move now.”

  “What happens if we don’t?” I ask. “What happens if we stay here?”

  Shadow hesitates. I’m expecting him to say that Boetsch will show up and that we need to be away before he gets here. Instead, he rests his hand on his gun again, and with his thumb, unsnaps the strap that’s keeping it in its holster.

  “If you don’t come willingly,” he says, “I’ll have to bring you against your will.” And then he draws the weapon. Although he doesn’t aim it at either of us, he holds it in front of him in plain view. The meaning is clear: he is armed, we are not, and if we value our lives we will do as he says.

  Joel couldn’t have ordered this. There’s no way his instructions included menacing my father and me with a gun.

  Except…two days ago, I would have said that there was no way my father would ever order my kidnapping. Now I know that he did, and that he did it for my own safety. Sometimes it’s hard to see the big picture when you’re in a moment like this. I have to admit, I’m still not entirely sure whether or not Shadow can be trusted. Is he using the gun because he is working for the bad guy? Or is it merely a last resort to get us to where Joel needs us to be?

  More than ever, I wish Joel were here to answer the questions that are swirling through my mind.

  Chapter 14

  Joel

  Unbelievable. If someone had asked me, five minutes before Jenna pulled out the handcuffs, if she had been capable of something like this, I would have said absolutely not.

  I mean, sure, she’s feisty. She hasn’t hesitated to question me at any point, even when she knew nothing about me except that I had her locked in a car on the way to an undisclosed location. At that point, for all she knew, I could have been a violent criminal. And she still stood up to me and demanded answers. So it’s not her daring that surprises me.

  Nor am I surprised by her cleverness in finding and using the handcuffs. Jenna has already shown herself to be mentally adept. And I’m not surprised she managed to overpower me long enough to get the cuffs on me. I remember how quickly she took to throwing the knife. Physically, she’s quick and sharp. I don’t think she’d last long against me in hand to hand combat, but with the element of surprise on her side, it makes sense that she was able to best me.

  And, of course, I knew she was a flight risk. Just this morning she tried to run. I would be foolish to write off the possibility that it could happen again.

  But I guess I was foolish. I guess I thought that what had transpired between us—both the open and honest discussions and the
physical intimacy—meant that we had reached some new level of trust. Sometime between my telling her about Shadow and her hand slipping down my pants, I assumed we’d reached an agreement that we were on the same side.

  Apparently, I assumed wrong.

  Honestly, I’m impressed. She must have been thinking about fleeing even as we were having sex. I couldn’t possibly have planned an escape under those circumstances. I can’t decide whether to be angry with her or to like her even more than I already did, but both feelings are overshadowed by a sense of fear and dread that something awful will happen to her. I know it isn’t safe for her outside this cabin. I’ve tried to tell her. She insisted on thinking she knew best. And now I’ll be lucky to get her back in one piece.

  The first order of business is to get myself out of these cuffs. I’ve been trying to pick the lock for several minutes now, but the only thing I’ve been able to reach to use as a lockpick is my knife, and it just isn’t very effective. The blade is too broad, even at the tip. Finally, I’m forced to concede that it isn’t going to work, and I sheathe the knife.

  I have to hurry. I’m losing time here.

  I brace the soles of my feet against the wall. Since picking the lock isn’t working, I’m really only left with one way to get out of here. It’s not going to be pretty. It might mean permanent damage to the cabin, and it might even mean damage to me. But the thought of Jenna, alone in these mountains, and Carl Boetsch on the loose, steels my resolve. I can’t allow anything to happen to her. She’s my responsibility. I close my eyes, count to three, and then on an exhale I push with my legs, hard.

  With a slow creak, the bolts holding the pipe to the wall give way. The metal pieces wrapped around it begin to bend, and the pipe itself pulls out from the wall, toward me. I have a fraction of a second to celebrate the success of my plan before the pain in my wrist hits, and I stop pulling for a moment, gasping. The pain doesn’t abate. I know better than to apply the full force of my body weight to such a weak pressure point, of course, but what else could I do?

  I manipulate my wrist carefully. I don’t think it’s broken, but I am going to have a deep bone bruise, particularly if I keep up this pulling…

  You have to do it, I tell myself. Gritting my teeth, I count to three, then tug against the pipe hard. The final bolts crack their way free of the wood, and the pipe collapses to the floor.

  I skitter backward, prepared to be doused in water or something, but I’m in luck. It looks like nothing is channeling through this pipe. It must have been a fixture from before the plumbing was modernized. Carefully, I tug the pipe through the circle of the handcuff until it has come free and I’m cuffed to thin air. Now I can travel with the cuff dangling from my arm, which is awkward and unpleasant but will do.

  Of course, it’s possible Jenna didn’t take the key with her… I cast about for my black bag, finally locating it in the bathroom of all places. Jenna must have snuck it in here with her. If I had been paying attention to her instead of basking in how great the sex had been, I would have been able to stop her from doing what she did…but no point in revisiting that now. What’s done is done. And she did, in fact, leave the key. I free myself from the handcuffs and stuff them into my pocket. You never know.

  The key Jenna didn’t forget, of course, was my car key. Even though I’m confident I know exactly where she went this time—she’ll have followed the map straight to her father—it’s going to be considerably more difficult for me to go after her. I pull on my boots, thanking my lucky stars that I thought of getting her shoes so she wouldn’t learn from her past mistake and steal mine; there’s no way I would have been able to hike five miles through the snow barefoot.

  I make the journey in half an hour. For one thing, once I’m out of the cabin and onto the main road, I can see the treads of her tires in the snow. That spurs me on. It lets me know I’m going in the right direction—not that I really had any doubt—and provides a convenient footpath for me to run along. I set a good pace and end up running the whole way. It’s like being back in basic training, jogging along rough-terrain courses designed to test me.

  Finally, after what feels like days of running, the cabin comes into view. Sure enough, there’s my car, parked crookedly in the driveway. I’m so single-minded in my approach, so busy planning what I’m going to say to her when I get inside, that I almost don’t notice the enormous red flag—a police car is parked on the street.

  Immediately, my blood chills. No one is supposed to know Jenna and Fred are up here. This cabin is private property. There is no reason for a police car to be here unless one of them called it. Jenna might do such a thing, but I know for a fact that Fred would not. He understands the risks.

  But how else to explain the presence of the car?

  Doing my best to move quietly, I creep around to the side window of the cabin. It’s high off the ground, above my head, but I can just barely hook my fingers over the sill and pull myself up by bracing my feet against the wall. I peek in, trying to understand what’s going on.

  Three figures are standing inside the cabin. The first is easily recognizable as Jenna—I feel like I could pick her out anywhere. I feel a rush of relief at the realization that she’s unharmed. I hadn’t fully known how worried I was until now. Thank God she’s safe.

  Fred is there too. I identify him after a moment. He’s standing close to his daughter and talking to the third person in the room—I can hear the low rumble of a voice trying to carry through the wall.

  I drop from the window and make my way around to the front of the cabin. Whatever’s going on in there, I’m not going to learn any more about it from the outside. It’s time to interrupt the proceedings.

  I don’t bother knocking. I make my way up onto the porch and throw open the door, announcing my presence and startling all three people inside.

  My eyes automatically go to Jenna, and I reassure myself that she’s unharmed. I’m longing to run to her and pull her against my body, but my training kicks in and I hold back. Something isn’t right. There’s fear in her eyes, and it’s not me she’s worried about. At no point in our time together have I ever seen her look so afraid.

  There’s a bigger threat in the room.

  I turn.

  He’s standing with his back against the far wall, a whole head taller than me. The man is dressed in uniform and holding a gun casually against his stomach as if he’s just trying to make sure everyone knows he has it. Shadow.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  I look from Jenna and Fred, both of whom look terrified and have yet to greet me, then back to Shadow, who keeps moving his thumb over the butt of that gun as if he’s restless and twitchy. I’ve never seen him like this either. He’s always so competent on the job. But today he looks out of his element—and way out of his jurisdiction. I want to demand an explanation, but suddenly I’m nervous too.

  “Hey, Joel,” he says.

  “Shadow,” I say. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m here to arrest Fred Shears,” Shadow says.

  “Wait a minute,” Jenna interrupts. I’m relieved to see she hasn’t entirely lost her nerve. “You said you were taking us to safety. You said you were acting on Joel’s orders!”

  “He’s not acting on my orders,” I say quickly. “I had no idea he was here.”

  “I needed him to come willingly,” Shadow says. It’s not clear whether he’s addressing Jenna or me. His eyes are on his gun. “I knew he wouldn’t come if I told him he was under arrest, and I didn’t want things to get physical.”

  “But you can’t arrest people without telling them what you’re doing,” I say. I’m stunned that Shadow would even attempt such a thing. That’s basic cop stuff. Even laymen know that. “You have to inform someone when you’re arresting them. You can’t just ask them to get in the car with you and see if they comply. Whatever you’ve got on Shears would be thrown out because you’d not followed procedure.” I frown. “What’s really going on here?”
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  Shadow sighs and holsters his gun. “I’m turning him over, Joel,” he says. “I’m handing him over to Boetsch.”

  Jenna lets out a little cry. I feel Shadow’s words like a punch to the gut. How could my best friend be in league with Boetsch? “You’re working with him?”

  “Not with him,” Shadow says, looking uncomfortable. “He gives me names of people who need to be brought in. Sometimes, I help him find people he needs to track down—”

  “How is that not working with him?” I demand. “God, Shadow. Look at what you’re doing. Fred Shears is an accountant, not a criminal.”

  “That’s none of my concern,” Shadow says. “Once I bring Shears to him, Boetsch will take it from there.”

  “Shadow, listen to me,” I say. “You know what Boetsch is. He’s a crime lord. He’s cheating decent people out of their money, and maybe even their lives.” I pause. “Has he got something on you? Is that why you’re doing this?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Shadow says. His words are short like he’s losing his patience.

  “How long?” I ask. After all, I just met with Shadow earlier this week, and it seemed then as if everything was fine.

  I revisit the encounter in my head. Shadow did seem interested in Fred, I recall. He was asking a lot of questions about the situation, and why a man like Fred Shears would want to disappear in the first place. Now I see that conversation for what it really was. He was already in contact with Carl Boetsch, already planning to track and capture Fred. He was looking for something to ease his conscience about it. If he could find some reason to believe Fred was a bad guy, he could justify what he already knew he was going to do.