Nick rolled down his window to address the Sheriff.
“Our ladies are up there. Were attending the function.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but this isn’t a secure crime scene yet. Hate to have to tell you, we still got a couple shooters we’re looking for.
Jameson leaned over. “Sheriff, I’m a Navy SEAL, and I qualified expert on anything you can throw at me. Zak here is former. We can definitely help.”
“Son, I wish it were up to me, but you got to stand down and let us do our job.”
Jameson had always respected the difficult work law enforcement had to do every day, but he wasn’t going to let this man keep him out of the fight to protect his women. He took a deep breath and before he could shout something out, Nick gripped his knee, telling him to stop.
“We thank you. Can you tell us how many there are?”
“Not sure yet. We got a couple dead, but we’re taking fire, so we don’t have them all.”
“I’d be happy to go in to pick up the wounded. Seconds can count,” Jameson offered.
He could tell the Sheriff wanted to let them in, but wasn’t going to lose his job over it. He shook his head. “I’ve got my orders. Best if you go on over to the shoulder before they close it across the freeway. You can see more than I can see here, if that’s any consolation.”
Nick turned the truck around as if he was going to follow the Sheriff’s instructions, but headed instead for the Frog Haven winery.
“Where are you going?”
“I got a back way. Devon and I explored it one afternoon. One of the workers said Zapparelli used to come over to watch what they were doing, and he came from some place where the two properties joined. I got to find it.”
They drove down the driveway, past the house, through the vineyards on the south side, which is where the adjoining property was located. They nearly bottomed out on a creekside gully, and then headed up the hill a few hundred yards. The path had been well worn. At last they came to a gate.
“Sonofabitch,” Jameson said.
“Just hope it doesn’t come out some place too obvious.”
They came to a ridgeline with a perfect view of the winery site below.
“Can you get me closer, over there?” Jameson pointed to a small swale between where they were parked and the delivery entrance on the back side.
Nick drove slowly so he wouldn’t be detected. The vines were a good barrier, still full and green, just beginning to turn. They had the perfect cover.
“Here.”
Jameson brought out his bag and set up his .300 Win Mag. On his belly, he used the scope to survey what was going on down below. He figured they were about five hundred yards out. If he caught a bad guy it would be easy to take him out from this distance. Nick took out his Mk-11 but didn’t site it.
“Nick?” Jameson asked as he adjusted his scope.
“Yup?”
“Give old Zak a call and ask him if they have any snipers watching these guys.”
“Will do.”
The word came back the squad hadn’t arrived yet. “And he says the last he saw the girls, they were headed to the kitchen.”
“Where the fuck is the kitchen? Looks like Mogadishu to me.” He scanned the area where one of the towers had been. It was the only place still burning, but had nearly half the first floor still intact. The roof was entirely gone where the tower had been, but the side buildings still had cover on them. Several areas were constructed with walls of cinder block. He knew if anyone could survive that blast, they’d have to be near or behind those walls.
Jameson caught action coming from what used to be the pool area. Law enforcement was being held back by gunmen on the huge bank of stairs. The parking lot was the equivalent of two stories below with the shooters protecting the site. They could also protect the approach to the delivery area, so the exchange of gunfire was mostly useless, Jameson could see. He sure hoped someone had thought to order a chopper.
“How many do you see?” asked Nick.
“I got three at the top behind the concrete railing. They’re pretty hidden by bushes. No way anyone’s going to get up there.”
“Wonder how some of the crowd got out.”
Jameson scanned a pathway leading from a patio off what he remembered as the dining area. That would make the kitchen nearby. Upon closer inspection, there was another man dressed in black at the top of the pathway.
“Shit,” he said when he realized the triage units were too close. “He could pick them off under those tents. They’re up to something. Wonder why they’re waiting.”
One of the ambulances left the parking lot, its sirens blazing. He searched the area for evidence of others to be sure he could pick the guy off without interference. His stomach churned as he could see several bodies of all sizes, but nothing that moved, and no one he recognized. The place was covered in blood. He was trained to deal with such a view, but knowing he might see one of his girls there made it nearly impossible to focus. He pulled away and sat up, taking deep breaths.
“You okay?”
“A lot of carnage down there. Nothing I see is alive. But I don’t recognize anyone either.” He took several deep breaths. “I have a plan, just not sure it’s wise, so you tell me if you’re in or out.”
“Okay.”
“First, we tell Zak what we’re doing. Where the hell is he, exactly?”
“Let’s keep him on the phone with us. You tell us both.”
Nick lay the cell on the ground next to Jameson. “I’m up above the large retaining wall on the south side, and I see you guys,” said Zak. “I see two of the dudes sorting through debris in the restaurant.”
A couple of shots were fired. Return fire came from below. Jameson got back on his scope.
“Talk to me, Zak.”
“I think you know they found someone alive. But it wasn’t who they were looking for. They are most definitely looking for someone specific.”
“You try calling Amy?” Jameson asked.
“Goes right to voicemail.”
Jameson saw a single gunman walking behind the rotund figure of Mr. Marco Zapparelli himself.
“Shit, I think they just found who they were looking for.”
He watched as the director was lead to the ornate gate and white concrete railings.
“They’re gonna off him, Zak. Not sure I got an angle.” Jameson hated to wait and just watch the guy get executed, but the terrorists held the upper hand when it came to position. They’d done their research, Jameson noted. Nobody from down below could get to them in time.
“I think you’re his only chance. Take the shot if you can, Jameson,” replied Zak. “I’ll jump in. I’ll go when you tell me.”
“Nicky!” Jameson said slowly.
“Right here.” He’d taken position on his belly just a few feet away.
“Can you get one or two of those shooters on the railing?”
“I see three.”
“That’s what I count too. There’s one over on the south side by that wide service path. You see him?”
“Yup.”
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. You get one and two on the left, three if you can. I go for the bad guy behind Mr. Zapparelli, but he’ll use him as cover if he suspects, so we gotta do this on my mark. You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Going for the whole enchilada, Zak. Get ready.”
“Roger that.”
“On my mark, three, two, one.”
Jameson’s shot was perfect, exploding the head of the gunman guiding the director. At the same time, he heard two other shots in succession as Nick hit the first shooter, missed the second, but got him with his third shot at the same time Jameson took out the shooter near the service path. Nick followed the third shooter as he turned and started firing wildly, aiming down at the police below, and they up towards their spot. Inhaling first, like they’d been trained to do, then exhaling, he shot the man in the chest and he fell.
They waited. Zak squawked into the phone, “I better call them.”
“Not sure it’s clear, but you do that so they know we did the shooting.”
Zak hung up. Jameson kept his scope on the bloody former restaurant area. Now he could see the layout of the place and recalled the beautiful dinner they’d had overlooking the vineyards below. The scene before him was never anything he’d anticipated.
All of a sudden, a desperate scream filled the whole valley, coming from the area he now recognized as the remnants of the kitchen. He adjusted his scope and saw a man holding a bloody hand to his chest and running into what had been the open air former restaurant. holding a bloody hand. Jameson aimed for the hand, and the round went clear through it and the shooter’s body as he dropped.
He knew someone was alive in that concrete box. He had no reason to hope, but if she’d been smart, Lizzie might have figured to take refuge there. He certainly hoped so.
But his stomach dropped as he saw another explosion below. He couldn’t find any shooters. Nick had already put the call into Zak.
“Get down there and check out that box. Someone’s alive in there. If they survived, that’s where they’ll be.”
“Roger that.”
Jameson watched Zak tear down the side of the hill, tripping and somersaulting through the landscaping, finally ending at the remnants of the building. Jameson hoped he hadn’t lost his phone, but was rewarded when he heard Zak’s heavy breathing.
“Atta boy,” Jameson whispered more to himself than anyone else.
Zak stayed to the walls, carefully searching and disappeared into the kitchen structure, which was now obscured by smoke from the blast.
Then Jameson heard the best news he’d had in years.
“Holy shit, Jameson. They’re okay. The girls are okay, except for the fact that—”
“Give me that.” Lizzie’s voice was snarly and irritated, but he loved everything about it. “We’re here, but Jameson, I’ve peed my pants.”
Chapter 25
‡
A large table was created from sheets of plywood on sawhorses. It was covered with an array of colorful tablecloths. A clump of nearly twenty white pillars were flickering in the center. Two bouquets of roses were positioned at each end of the table. The full moon shone down on Sophie’s Choice Winery and the collection of heroes and their ladies dining there tonight.
The harvest feast was a celebration of all sorts of events. All twelve of Kyle’s squad, plus wives and girlfriends, Nick and Devon and Zak and Amy all sat around and drank way more wine than they should have.
“To Frog Haven Vineyards,” Kyle announced, standing. Glasses were clinked and kissing couples were separated to participate in the obligatory toast.
“To a successful mission, and Jameson’s first,” said Cooper.
Marco Zapparelli stepped from the porch with a big bowl of pasta. His shirt was stained red and his sleeves were rolled up. His beefy arms set the huge bowl on the table.
“To good neighbors,” Zak toasted. Zapparelli bowed and got applause. He sat on a chair made out of recycled wine barrels, at the head of the table.
“You know, I could be your consultant, for a small percentage of the operation,” he said to the audience.
Everyone stopped eating and drinking and looked at him. He shrugged. “Okay, I could help you out of the goodness of my heart. No charge.”
He got another round of applause.
Amy grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “We’re grateful to have you.”
“You know,” Zapparelli began, “I’ve been thinking about this film. It involves a bunch of Navy SEALs who decide to go to wine country and in the process meet a famous director and kill a bunch of terrorists. Don’t you think that’s a catchy plot?”
Lizzie noticed the crowd had lost interest as soon as he said the word “movie.” She looked up and saw Jameson eyeing her adoringly. He leaned over the table. “Wanna take a walk with me?”
Her belly was full of food, and her heart was filled with love. She got up and gave a little wave as Jameson joined her, his arm around her shoulder, leading her away from the crowd. They had to endure the cat calls as they headed out into the vineyard floor. She could hear the leaves flutter in the night’s breeze. The crickets were chirping. Late fall days were the best, she thought. No fog in the morning, warm and sultry all night long. Not too hot, just right.
“We should make a plan to buy a place up here. Just something small,” he said. He turned her to him, pulling her tight against his lower groin. “I know you’d love to live here. I’d like to see if we can make that happen.”
It thrilled her that he wanted to see her happy. “I do love it here, but sweetheart, anywhere you are is perfect for me and Charlotte. Well, I have no desire to go to Africa.”
“There are places that are nice there, but probably not in the cards for our lifetime. This has all the beautiful things you loved about your parent’s horse farm in North Carolina, plus the nice California weather. It’s a lifestyle I love, don’t you?”
“I so agree. You think we could do it? You’re not thinking about leaving the Teams are you?”
“Nope. Not yet. But I think there are adventures to be had here. It won’t happen overnight, but I think we could make that plan and then create that for ourselves.”
“Let’s do it. I don’t care if it takes us twenty years, Jameson. Maybe you stay on the Teams for that whole time and retire here. Let’s take it little by slow.”
“I like that lifestyle.”
He rounded one row, turning to the walk in the other direction, and stopped. “Oh my.”
Lizzie was concerned. She looked at his face in the moonlight and followed his gaze which was focused down to his feet. Neatly folded was the fluffy patchwork comforter from their bed in the bunkhouse.
“How did that get here?” she asked lacing her arm around his waist.
“My dear, I have no idea. Providence. Your fairy godmother. My guardian angel. Who knows?” He drew her to him again. “But one thing I know, when two people are in love like we are, and the moon is full in beautiful wine country, when the wine is good and the food even better, when friends laugh and love their children, it would be a sin not to partake fully.”
“So just what did you have in mind?” She laced her fingers at the back of his neck, their thighs touching long and hot.
“Let me see those hands, Mrs. Daniels.”
She had no idea what he was up to, but she presented her palms to him. Out of his pocket he pulled the red ribbon that came from their bed in San Diego. It warmed her heart as she watched him draw it across her wrists in a figure eight pattern, and then kissed the bow he created on top.
“I like your traditions, Jameson.”
“The first of many. Maybe we’ll get lucky and bring Charlotte a little brother or sister tonight.”
She smiled, leaning against him, her bound wrists up over his head again, loving the feel of her breasts pressing into him. “Stranger things have happened. I think it would be a special way to begin a new life.”
* * *
Continue reading the first chapter of Fredo’s Secret…
Fredo’s Secret is available here.
Chapter 1
Fredo was not sure how Mia would take the results of his doctor visit, but his training taught him to just be direct with it, tell her that he could not father children. They had little Ricardo, who was not his biological son, but the son of a lowlife now in prison. Fredo and some of his team buddies had rescued Mia from this evil man and his gang. So, Fredo told himself he already had a son. Ricardo would grow up thinking of Fredo as his father in every important sense of the word. But he wanted to give Mia more sons, and perhaps a daughter or two.
God had other plans.
An inner city kid growing up, Fredo had been like a lucky penny, associating with both street kids and gang members, as well as the pretty girls who played volleyball and went out for cheerleading in high sc
hool. After high school, he escaped being caught, unlike some of his friends; not for doing bad things, but for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was the custom that once a youth got into the system, they rarely escaped. Fredo was sharp and lucky enough to never get into the system in the first place.
He thought Cooper would have some solid advice on his parenting situation since he and Coop were still two of the tightest buddies on SEAL Team 3. Cooper now had two children, a boy and a girl.
The Scupper was nearly empty, but that was probably because it was barely three o’clock in the afternoon.
He found his old friend sitting at a long table, as if they were expecting their usual cadre of regulars from Kyle’s Team. Fredo hoped Coop hadn’t invited anyone today.
“How’s it hanging, Fredo?” Coop asked as they fist-bumped.
“Not complaining.” Fredo motioned to their usual waitress, and she acknowledged his need for a beer. Cooper sat behind his mineral water, chewing on ice, and making his usual noise.
“You know, Coop, I’m not sure your dentist is very happy with you. You gonna crack all your teeth.”
“Nothin’ wrong with my teeth, Fredo. My great-grandfather was a horse. We got great teeth.”
“I’m not talking about how well you are endowed. I was talking—”
“Well, that, too, if you must know. But then you seen me in the shower, so this should be no surprise. So you wanna tell me why we’re talking about my dick?”
Fredo adjusted his defense mechanism. He was going to spout off something offensive in response to Coop’s remark, as was their pattern, but he reeled himself in. Part of him was so angry, he wanted to punch something. If Cooper got in the way, it wouldn’t be good.
“Okay, well, I just came from the doctor, and he told me I’m sterile. I’m fuckin’ shootin’ blanks. No little zarapes or baby sombreros in my future, Coop. No father of the bride walking down the aisle shit for me.”
“Borrow one.”
“Borrow a sperm? You mean let Mia get a sperm from someone else?”
“No, asshole, that wouldn’t be borrowing one. That would be making one a part of your family.” Cooper’s half smile and partial frown were hard to read. “Borrow a kid,” he said, nodding.
Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs Page 17
