Betrayed: A Bad Boy Military Romance

by Penelope Marshall

  "And what about—"

  "That's enough," I interrupted. "OPSEC, remember?"

  She nodded, sitting down in the chair across from me. I took another drink from the bottle. "I just wanna be left alone. I only gotta few days of leave, and I don't wanna spend it goin' over old shit."

  "Fuck! I made a mistake, Chance. One."

  "A pretty big one I'd say, and who knows if it was just one. Maybe you were out fuckin' my whole team and I just never found out," I yelled, slamming the bottle on to the coffee table.

  She shot up from her seat. "That's it! I don't need to put up with this. I came here to help, but if you wanna be an asshole—"

  Quickly I interjected, not wanting to get into a fight this early. "Alright. I get it. I'm sorry, calm down."

  The anger from her face receded as she sat back down. "I'm sorry for what happened. I can't change it, I can only move forward and pick up the pieces as best I can."

  "And how's that working out for you?"

  "It's a work in progress."

  I chuckled. "Story of my life," I said, reaching for the bottle again, guzzling down the last bit of it.

  "Okay then, if you're done drinking that old beer, go put on a shirt and let's get outta here."

  I shook my head. I really didn't want to go, but I didn't want to get into another fight with her either. "Jesus."

  "You can call Him all you want, but He ain't saving you from breakfast with me," she said, shooing me toward the bedroom.

  I stood up and went into my room to grab some clothes for a shower. It was the last place I wanted to be. Having to see her empty side of the closet didn't help my mood at all. Grabbing what I needed, I headed to the bathroom to wash away the last twenty-four hours.

  "Hey, I'm gonna jump in the shower. I'll only be a minute," I yelled down the hall.

  "Take your time."

  Resting my hands on the counter, I took a good long look in the mirror, noting the tiredness building around my eyes. Years of gunfire, losing friends, and traveling from country to country extracting God knows who, probably wasn't helping matters any.

  Rubbing the stubble on my chin, my thoughts floated back to Sierra and the night we were rescued by the border patrol.

  Why did I leave her alone?

  I flipped on the shower and jumped in, letting the cold water run over my old tired bones, hoping for some invigoration.

  Maybe I need to get out?

  Constantly leaving wasn’t conducive to a healthy relationship and maybe she couldn't handle it. I never realized it before, but maybe deployments were the root cause of the death of most of my relationships.

  Thoughts of Sierra and our baby ran through my mind as the minutes ticked by, and the worry and heartache I felt began to swell into anger. I slammed my palm against the shower tile, so frustrated I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  How dare she take our baby? Who does she think she is?

  I felt like a trapped animal unable to do anything but accept the circumstances.

  After another twenty minutes of contemplating what to do, I heard Nicole yell from outside the bathroom door, "Are you ready?"

  Turning off the shower, I stood there for a moment, wondering how all this shit could've happened. "Yeah, almost," I yelled back, drying off.

  I stretched my hand out to grab my toothbrush, and noticed that Sierra's toothbrush was still sitting in the cup, which made me wonder why someone would clean out the closet, but leave their toothbrush? Wouldn't that be automatic? Or was that just something automatic for me?

  She left! Stop creating theories to explain it away. She fuckin' left!

  I finished getting dressed and walked into the, now clean, living room.

  "Wow, you look great," she said, placing the last dish in the strainer.

  "You cleaned?"

  "I did," she replied, grinning.

  "But you never clean," I said, impressed and shocked all at the same time.

  "Like I said earlier…I've changed!"

  I nodded. "I can see."

  "Are you ready to go?" she asked, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  "As I'll ever be," I said, throwing my hands in the air, heading for the door.

  She grabbed her purse, causing some of the mail underneath it to fall to the floor.

  "Hold on a sec, let me pick these up, " she said.

  "Just leave it there, I'll grab 'em later."

  She bent down and shuffled the envelopes together. A small piece of paper was sticking out from between two of them.

  "What's that?"

  "It's a note," she said, holding it up for me to read.

  I took it from her hand and opened it. A lump in my throat formed as I read it. "It's from her," I replied in a tight voice.

  "Well what does it say?" she asked, standing up.

  "That she isn't coming back. She doesn't wanna be with me anymore."

  "That's it?"

  I flipped the note over. "That's it."

  "Well that's fucked up," she said, grabbing the note from me.

  "Why didn't I see this earlier?"

  "Well it looks like it was stuffed between the envelopes."

  I shook my head. "None of this makes sense."

  "Maybe she isn't thinking clearly. She's pregnant, after all."

  "And ain't that the fucked up part of all of it?"

  "Better to know the real her now," she said, trying to console me with a rub to my shoulder.

  I didn't reply. I bet she was eating this up inside and it made me angry. The anger seared like a volcano, emanating heat from every cell in my body. Just the thought of never getting to know my baby girl because of another selfish woman infuriated me.

  "You know what, I'm just gonna stay here. I don't wanna be out in public right now."

  "But you need to get out. This apartment is full of memories. It's just gonna make you crazy," she encouraged.

  "I have a pretty short fucking fuse right now. I don't need to do shit."

  She backed away. "Okay. We can stay here."

  "No. I think you should go."

  "I don’t wanna leave you here all by yourself."

  "I'm not gonna kill myself, if that's what you're thinking," I said, pulling open the door for her.

  The disappointment in her eyes was evident, but I couldn't worry about her right now. I had my own shit to worry about, and honestly I didn't owe her anything. She walked to her car and drove off, and as soon as her car cleared the parking lot, I headed for mine. Sierra wasn't going to get away with this. Not on my watch.

  Pulling out of the parking lot, I dialed my teammate, Hill.

  The phone rang, once, twice, and on the third ring he picked up. "Yo'."

  "I need a favor. You still have an in with the IT's on base?"

  "I'm sure I still know a girl or three."

  "I need a phone located."

  "Whose?"

  "Sierra's."

  "Sierra? Why?"

  "She took off."

  "Quit fuckin' wit' me." He chuckled.

  "Do I sound like I'm fuckin' wit' you?" I asked sternly.

  Instantly his tone changed. "No, LT. I don't think you're fuckin'…I mean messin'…I mean…no, sir."

  "I'll be there in ten minutes. You have her number right?"

  "Yes, sir. I'll get right on it."

  I hung up the phone and stopped at a red light. I looked in my rear view mirror and noticed two men in a black Suburban pull up behind me, looking real official. I didn't know what it was, but something about them didn't sit right with me.

  As I stared at the mirror my phone began to ring.

  "Hello?"

  "LT, they triangulated her phone to a one block radius in National City."

  "Okay. You up for a lunch break?"

  "Yeah, you want me to call Battista?"

  "Yup. I'll be there in a few minutes."

  Sitting at the stop light before the main entrance to North Island, I noticed the Suburban was still behind me.
/>   Maybe they have base business?

  The light turned green and as I drove across the street to the main gate, the Suburban turned left, disappearing from sight. The direction they went sort of troubled me, as there were no government buildings in the direction they took…at least to my knowledge.

  The MP saluted me after I flashed him my badge. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant."

  I nodded then proceeded onto the base. Hill and Battista were already waiting outside the shop in their civilian clothes.

  "Good," I said under my breath, pulling up right in front of them.

  "Hey, LT," Battista greeted.

  I looked in my rearview mirror. "This is off the books. You okay with that?"

  "Whatever you need," Battista said.

  "You know where we're going, Hill?" I asked.

  "National City is my old stomping grounds. I know it like the back of my hand."

  Leaving base, my thoughts instantly went back to Sierra.

  Maybe I could let her go? But what about my baby girl? There was no way I wasn't going to search the ends of the earth for that baby.

  "You think we're really gonna find her, LT?"

  "We're SEALs for crying out loud. If we can extract targets from third world countries, or from the middle of a jungle that isn't even on a map, then we sure as hell can find one goddamn woman in San Diego," I said, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.

  They didn't answer. I'm sure they were afraid to say anything that would set me off at this point. I suppose if I were in the car with a senior officer, I'd be scared shitless, too.

  "Alright, where to?" I asked.

  "Head down the 5 and get off on 24th street."

  I nodded then sped off base. Probably not the best place to speed, but I was on a time crunch.

  "Are you sure she left?" Battista asked.

  "She left a note and everything."

  "What are you planning to do when you find her?"

  "I wanna know why she thinks she has the right to take my fuckin' baby. She ain't even a citizen yet, where the hell does she think she's gonna go? After what we shared in that hell hole in Tijuana, this is how she's gonna do me? I don’t fuckin' think so."

  "That's crazy. I'd never expect that from Sierra." Hill said, shaking his head, looking out the window which overlooked Coronado Bay.

  "You and me both, brother. You and me both. Them conniving ass women, I tell ya'."

  My wheels screeched as I hit the brakes, taking the curve of the 24th street off ramp faster than the speed limit recommended, leaving fresh black rubber along the pavement.

  "Where now?" I asked.

  "Turn right and head down. It's the area right before National City Boulevard," Hill said.

  "What the hell is she doing down here?" I asked, looking up and down the sidewalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

  "Call her again," Battista urged.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed her number, placing the call on speaker so I could pay attention to the street.

  One ring, then two. "Hello?"

  In shock, I slammed on the brakes, the car behind me honked a couple times as the old lady flipped me off as she swerved passed me.

  "Sierra! Where the fuck are you?"

  "Leave me alone."

  "What the fuck? Tell me where you are?"

  Her voice cracked as she spoke. It was evident she had been crying. "Don't look for me. I don't want to be with you anymore. Move on."

  "There is no way I'm moving on. Say this shit to my face."

  "Move on!"

  "What about my baby?" I asked angrily.

  "She's not your baby."

  "What the fuck are you talkin' about? How is she not my baby?"

  "She's Eddie's baby."

  "Are you fuckin' insane?"

  "Just move on," she said, as the phone clicked off.

  I was dumbfounded. "Did she just say—"

  "Is that possible?" Hill interjected.

  I pulled over to get out of the middle of the street. "Eddie died in Pakistan two missions before I ever met her. You know the story right? He was kidnapped right out of our safe house, but they wouldn't pay his ransom. They fuckin' left him there to die."

  "You think she's not thinking straight?" Battista asked.

  "She knows how Eddie died. You know how many nights I woke up in a cold sweat, yelling his name? After the fifth time I had to explain to her who Eddie was."

  "Do you think it's a message?" Hill asked.

  "She's a smart girl. That was definitely a message," I replied.

  "Let's go check out that block," Battista urged, banging his hand on the dash.

  I slammed my foot on the gas and headed down the street, slowing down just before we hit National City Boulevard.

  "Is this the area?" I asked, surveying the buildings.

  "Yeah," Battista said.

  I was surprised by the sight of a familiar vehicle. "Hey, I saw that Suburban following me earlier, before I picked y'all up," I said, pointing to the parking lot of Aguirre's Bar.

  "Park right here and we can watch 'em. Can't be a coincidence," Battista said.

  I parked across the street, settling in for a long stakeout. We had only been sitting there for a few minutes before Ricardo Lopez, the head of one of the most notorious prostitution and kidnapping rings in Southern California, strolled out of the main entrance, followed by the two men I had seen in the Suburban earlier.

  "Do you see what I'm seeing?" I asked the other two.

  "Is that who I think it is?" Battista asked.

  "What the…" Hill added in shock.

  I knew of Lopez from handling an extraction in Tijuana a few years back that we suspected he had a part in. Although he was never officially linked to the kidnapping, we knew he did it; he had his hand in everything, from prostitution, kidnapping, drugs, and anything else illegal which made money.

  We hung his framed shit of a face ass up on the shop’s Most Wanted wall, next to some of the most heinous terrorists of our time.

  "Man, he's like the kidnapping fuckin' king in SoCal," Battista said, shaking his head.

  "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" I asked.

  "If Sierra is in there, she's in for a world of hurt," Hill said.

  "What's the plan?" Battista asked.

  "I can't ask you two to go up against Lopez. Not for me...not for her. It's too dangerous. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to either of you."

  "Fuck that, LT! We're brothers." Hill said, glaring at me.

  I looked in the rear view mirror. "Battista?"

  "Hooah, LT!"

  "Alright, we're gonna need to regroup. Weapons. Vests. Ammo. They probably have a small army just sittin' around in there, drinking tequila or something," I said, squinting through the midday sun, hoping to glean some intel.

  The Suburban headed off in the other direction, disappearing after it made a right on to National City Boulevard.

  "Why don't we just go inside? It's a free country," Battista suggested.

  I was the first one out of the car. If she was really in there, I didn't want to waste any time. The moment we stepped into the place, I knew we stuck out like a sore thumb. Every guy in the place was wearing some sort of ill-fitted cheap polyester suit, except for the bartender and the waitress. We took a seat at an empty table, inconspicuously surveying the scene, while pretending to chat amongst one another.

  The waitress made it over, and without making eye contact, she rudely asked, "What'll you have?"

  "I'll have a beer and a double shot of wild turkey 101," I barked.

  "The same," Battista and Hill agreed in unison.

  After she walked away, Battista said, "Fuck, LT, you tryin' to get us fucked up before a fight?"

  "You boys can't handle your liquor, you shoulda' ordered a mojito." I chuckled.

  Hill leaned in, and whispered, "If she's here, they ain't gonna be parading her around the bar."

  "You think your IT
friends can get a layout?" I asked.

  "Whatever you need," Hill replied.

  The waitress came out from behind the bar and made her way over carrying a tray full of drinks. I cleared my throat to alert the other two to shut their mouths.

  "Here you boys go," she said, placing the drinks on the sticky wood grained table.

  Reading the name scrawled on her nametag with black marker, I asked, "Alma, was that Ricardo Lopez who just left the building?"

  Her eyes widened and her face turned white. "And who the fuck are you to be askin' big boy questions like that?" she asked, slamming the last beer bottle on the table, causing the foam to overflow on to her hand.

  "C'mon, màmi. Help us out," Battista asked flirtatiously.

  "I ain't your, màmi, pendejo!" she said, grabbing one of the shot glasses and splashing the alcohol in his face.

  She traipsed away, but not before every asshole in the place stood up, staring at us like fresh meat. The three of us stood up, ready to fight.

  The sound of a shotgun cocking, blared through the bar. We all shifted our gaze toward the bartender. "The three of you get the fuck outta here. You ain't fuckin' up my bar today," he yelled in his thick Spanish accent.

  Slowly, we backed out of the bar, staring intently at the bartender who had his shotgun pointed directly at our heads.

  "We didn't come for any trouble, sir," I said.

  "Well you found it. Get the fuck out," he yelled, pointing the shotgun toward the ceiling, firing off a round.

  As the plaster from the ceiling crumbled on to the dirty wooden floor, a frightened scream zipped through the hole he'd just made.

  "Sierra," I said under my breath as we continued to back out of the main entrance.

  The minute the door shut in front of us, we turned and ran to the car.

  "She was upstairs, did you hear her?" I asked.

  "I heard a woman scream, but it could be anyone," Battista yelled as he jumped into the back seat.

  "I'd know her voice anywhere. I dream about that voice," I said, starting the engine.

  Slamming my foot on the gas, my wheels spun against the pavement a few times, burning rubber before gaining traction.

  "Let's get a plan together. There ain't no saving her if we're all dead," Hill yelled, pounding on the dashboard.

  We sped off toward the freeway, passing the black Suburban on our way. I locked eyes with the driver, who looked shocked to see me.