“Did you cheat on her?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” I can’t imagine cheating on Valerie. I never would. “It’s…it’s something I did, for work. She doesn’t approve of my lifestyle.”
I see the woman’s eyes travel to my tattooed arms, which are resting on the tabletop as I clutch the ceramic mug.
“You seem a little rough around the edges,” she says. “But a good woman will smooth that out for you. I did the same thing with my husband. He was half wild when we got together. I tamed him. We’ve been together now for forty years.”
“Congratulations,” I say.
“Is she a keeper?” she asks.
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Well, then.” She winks. “Don’t give up on things. It’ll work out. Handsome guy like you…she’d be crazy not to take you back.”
When she walks away, I hunch back over my cup. I haven’t eaten a proper dinner, and the coffee is making my stomach turn. But I’m too upset and anxious to even think about food. I just want it to get dark out. I want to get this job over with.
Then, I can tell Valerie with honesty that I’m ready to become a new man.
For her. For Dylan.
The sun sinks as I nurse my coffee. The kind waitress lets me linger, and when I finally pay the bill, I leave her a nice fat tip.
I’ve been too preoccupied with my own troubles to give much thought to the mission, and as I pull back out onto the road, I realize that I don’t even truly have a plan in mind yet for my approach.
Fuck it, I think, pushing down the throttle so that my bike pulls ahead. Wind whips over me, ripping against my jacket and jeans. The increased speed is a welcome distraction, and I push my bike harder, until I’m traveling down the worn, winding road at top speed.
When I reach a “No Trespassing” sign, I know that I’m close. The houses have become farther and fewer apart, and my map shows that the target’s property is at the end of the line. He owns these woods, and I’m not surprised that he’s posted the signs.
I park on the edge of the road and start rummaging through my bag. Clint informed me that the house is set back in the woods. The target takes four-by-fours in and out. I’ll be hiking.
The foliage is thick overhead, blocking out any light from stars or the moon. The darkness is inky black. In the distance, I hear dogs barking. I wonder if they’ve picked up the sound of my bike. I’m not worried about that, because I’m still on the public road. I could be anyone, out for a scenic drive. But I do burrow through my bag long enough to find the tranquilizer gun that I’ve used on animals in the past. I slide it into my backpack, then go through my usual routine.
“All right, Cole,” I whisper as I jam my handgun into the holster on my side. “This is the last one. I need your help, buddy. After this, you can rest. I just need you to have my back, one more time.”
I pull a black mask over my head and face and then slide my night-vision goggles into place. I can feel my adrenaline starting to flow.
Back in the SEALs, I always used to relax when I found out we’d be hiking to a target. I was raised in inland Texas, far from any natural water sources. I didn’t learn to swim until basic training, and it always felt like one of my weakest skills. But put me into the desert or the woods and tell me to hike for miles, and I feel right at home.
The ground is solid under my feet. It’s just up to me to move my legs. I used to always lead the pack, even when the terrain was steep and technical. Long, challenging hikes got me into the zone.
Tonight, I wait for that comfortable, familiar feeling to hit. My heart rate starts to climb as I trek up a steep bank, winding between trees. I feel a light sweat break out over my body. My senses are primed, listening for sounds of life. This is when I usually feel my best—my strongest.
But tonight, something is different. That “in the zone” feeling never comes.
I keep walking; my breath comes harder and faster. My heart is hammering, and now, a good, healthy sweat soaks my back, forehead, and underarms. Yet I don’t feel like an athlete, or a champion, or a hero. I don’t feel like a man.
I feel…empty. It all feels wrong.
I was more of a man when I was holding my son and he was smiling up at me. I was more of a man when I was looking into Valerie’s eyes and opening up to her, even though it scared me.
That was courage. That was honor.
Now, here in these woods, I feel like a coward. I should have found a way to say no to this mission. Why am I here? Why did I walk away from the woman who has given me a new sense of purpose and hope—even just for the night? I shouldn’t have left her.
I see light through the trees. It’s dim. Flickering. A fire?
Then, the sound of an engine starting about twenty feet away startles me. I stop in my tracks and sidestep so that I’m behind a tree. A branch cracks under my feet, and to me, it sounds as loud as gunshots.
I hold my breath for a moment. The engine sound dies down. I start moving forwards, darting from tree to tree so that I stay covered. I’ve been so lost in thought that I’m having a hard time figuring out which side of the main property I’m coming up on. I try to picture the satellite image of the building in my mind, but I can’t.
Damn it. I am underprepared for this mission. I shouldn’t be here.
The firelight grows stronger, and I see that I’m coming up to a clearing. There’s a high, chain-link fence around the border of the property. I see what looks like a lawn, but instead of grass, the surface is just dirt. A dog is tied with a rope to one of the few trees in the clearing. A fire pit crackles off to one side, and I see a figure working a chainsaw near a pile of kindling.
He’s hacking away at a log that’s placed vertically on another stump. The figure is overweight and looks stooped, as if with age. Both of those characteristics fit the profile of my target, but since I can’t see his face from this far away, I can’t be sure. I keep moving forward until I come up against the fence.
I’m going to have to scale it. With so many unknowns, this move feels risky. While up on the fence, I’m going to be totally exposed. My other option is to stay where I am, waiting it out until the man leaves his yard to go to sleep.
I don’t want to wait.
I want this to be over. I want to get back to Valerie, and Dylan.
So, I start climbing the fence. I urge myself forward as quickly as possible. I hate being up here, out of the tree line.
Just as I pivot over the top of the fence and start to free-fall to the ground, my worst fear comes true. A floodlight snaps on, illuminating the entire yard. Startled, the dog jumps to attention, straining against his rope as he barks ferociously.
Shit.
I’m blinded by the light. Instinctively, I reach for my gun and pull it out. By the time my vision adjusts to the brightness, I see that a second figure—not the one with the chainsaw—is approaching me. He looks pissed. There’s a gun in his hand, but it’s down at his side.
Not a good position, asshole, I think, aiming at him. I have a clear shot. The guy has barely had time to react to the sight of me. I’ve done everything—from landing on my feet to sighting him and pointing my gun—in the matter of a second. He’s mid-stride, still trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
I feel my finger tense against the trigger. This is it. The time is now.
This is my chance.
My trigger finger tremors. I hesitate. Then, I lower my gun.
I can’t do it. I can’t kill him.
I don’t want to be this man anymore. I don’t want to take another life. I’m a father now. I nurture life; I don’t take it away.
The fat, old man is raising his gun. I pivot and spring back up against the fence, banking on the fact that he won’t be able to shoot a moving target. He’s a meth dealer, not a marksman.
I hear the sound of gunshots, and then a tree to my left explodes with the impact of one of his shots. I scramble over the fence and drop to the other side. I t
ake off running the instant my feet hit solid ground. More bullets explode around me, but I know that by now, I’m out of the floodlight’s reach.
Darkness is my friend, now.
I can hear him yelling, behind me, and then I hear the sound of a four-wheeler starting up. The dog is going crazy by now, and his barking adds to the chaos.
I weave between trees, sprinting over the forest floor. There’s only one thought on my mind as I race through the darkness, towards my bike:
Valerie.
Valerie, and the son I want to raise with her.
Chapter 19
Valerie
I’ve moved Dylan’s crib into the bedroom, so that I can see him while he sleeps. I’m lying in my side of the bed, facing him. The crib is bathed in moonlight from my room’s single window. Within the pool of moonlight, my son’s little body rises and falls rhythmically.
I can’t sleep.
I feel horrible. I keep on reliving it—the way it felt to put Garrett’s bags out on the front steps at his feet. The look on his face when he realized that I was kicking him out.
Was that wrong of me?
So many times, I’ve had to extend compassion to my students. When they do something “wrong”, I dig past it. I try to see where they’re coming from. Just last week, a student stole cash from my purse while my back was turned. Since all of our classrooms are rigged with security cameras, I was able to figure out who did it pretty quickly.
Turned out, there was no food in his house. He’d missed dinner, breakfast, and was starving for lunch. Things like that tend to blur the lines between right and wrong.
I toss onto my back. Every sound that I hear—a thump of moving furniture from the apartment next door, the roaring of a truck on the road outside—makes my heart pound.
I’m afraid.
Garrett is a killer. I knew this, when I found out he was a SEAL. I knew that as a SEAL, he’s taken human lives. It was his job.
But now that he’s on his own? Outside of the Navy?
I might not be able to untangle all of the moral implications, but I feel it in my gut: it’s wrong. I don’t want to be with a hitman. No matter how justified he feels the killing is.
I turn to my other side. I can’t get comfortable. The blankets tangle around my legs as I turn.
As I reach down to pull the sheets and blankets away from my feet, I hear a knock at the door. Startled, I jump up.
Immediately, my mind is racing. Could it be Garrett? Did he abandon his mission? Is he back…to say he’s sorry?
My hopes are high as I slip out of the bedroom and close the door behind me, so that Dylan won’t wake up.
When I peek through the front door’s peephole, I see his face. Even through the distorted lens, his handsome features make my already pounding heart speed up even more. I’ll never stop responding to Garrett’s presence with excitement.
I pull open the door.
As soon as I see his full body, my hope of a reunion dies. It’s clear to me that he went through with his mission. He’s dressed all in black. A technical-looking pack is on his back. I see the metal tube of what looks like a rifle, poking up over his shoulder. There’s a gun in a holster at his side.
The sight of the firearms makes me step back into the house. He holds his hands up.
“Valerie, I didn’t do it. I didn’t go through with the hit. I—”
“Garrett, you have a gun strapped to your hip.”
He looks down, as if noticing it for the first time. “Valerie—I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. I got to the address, and I just couldn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me Garrett!” I shout.
I feel my heart pounding.
I want to extend my compassion to him, just like I do to my students. But there’s a child inside my house—a child I have to protect. My instincts are on overdrive. I feel like a mother bear, protecting her cub.
“Valerie, please listen to me. Please believe me.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I say. “I can’t—”
He stops me short by stepping in and wrapping his arms around me. He kisses me, taking the words from my mouth, the breath from my lungs.
Suddenly, I stop thinking. I feel his lips, hot and comforting against my own. I feel his passion for me—and I feel my own return for him.
My body surrenders to his strength. I let him hold me in his muscular arms. As his mouth moves against mine, I taste the familiarity of him. We slip into our secret language; we begin communicating with our kiss.
His kiss dominates me completely and I like it. For an instant, I forget it all. I let him comfort me, commit to me, and convince me that everything is okay. For an instant, here in Garrett’s arms, everything is okay. He drinks me in, sliding his tongue against mine. He reminds me of all that we have, together.
When we part, I feel dizzy. He stands close to me. His arms are around me, holding me still. He rests his head on my forehead. He smells like musky sweat.
“Can I come in?” he whispers. “Can we talk about this?”
My eyes are closed. I don’t know what to think—but for once, I don’t try to figure out my next move with my intellect. I let my heart decide.
I nod.
We move inside. Garrett closes the door behind us, and then I lead the way into the living room.
As we reach the living room, Garrett looks around. “Where’s the crib?” he asks, motioning to beneath the window, where the crib used to be.
“I moved it,” I say. I rub one palm against the other. “I—I wanted him in the bedroom with me. It felt…safer.”
Garrett looks pained by this. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I don’t want you to feel scared. Not by me. Please, Valerie. I need you to believe me. I’m done. I won’t—”
Crack. The sound of splintering wood interrupts him. It came from the entryway.
I jump.
Garrett whirls around. “Shit! He must have followed me. Valerie, go to the bedroom. Don’t come out.”
He slips his gun from his holster and begins moving towards the entryway, where there’s another thundering crack of shattering wood.
I’m paralyzed. I can’t move.
“Go!” Garrett shouts.
Footsteps are pounding down the hall.
“Go!” shouts Garrett again.
The third time’s the charm. I turn on my heel and sprint towards the bedroom.
Chapter 20
Valerie
Once inside the bedroom, I lock the door and scan the room quickly, searching for my cellphone. Frantic when I don’t see it, I begin to panic. Is it out in the kitchen? Did I leave it in my purse?
There’s a massive crash in the living room, and then a thud that sounds like a body being slammed against a wall. I hear Garrett shout something sharp, and then a stranger’s voice responds. I don’t know what they’re saying, but the hostile tones let me know that Garrett and the intruder are not giving each other a friendly greeting.
I make my way over to my nightstand, hoping desperately that I’ll find my phone.
Please, let it be here.
Another thud from the living room seems to shake the whole house. Dylan lets out a soft cry. He’s awake.
I start shuffling through crap on my nightstand—a magazine, my journal. There it is, half hidden beneath a stack of quizzes I was going to grade.
My phone!
I grab it and dial 911 as Dylan’s cries grow steadily louder. As the phone rings, I go to the crib. I place one hand on Dylan’s body. I rub his belly a little bit.
“Shh, shh,” I whisper. I’m watching the door as I do this. The sounds from the living room are so loud that I fear that at any moment, my bedroom door might crack open with the sound of splintering wood.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“There’s—someone’s in my house.” I can’t catch my breath. I can barely speak.
“Okay, what is the address?”
“I’m at 71
9 Jasper Drive—The Gateway Units. Second story. Apartment 209.”
In the living room, I hear the shattering sound of glass breaking. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the dispatcher’s voice and the feel of my son’s chest rising and falling as he breathes in and out between cries.
“Can you repeat your address for me?”
“Yes, 719 Jasper Drive. Gateway Apartments, number 209.”
“Okay. Tell me exactly what happened.”
“I was—my boyfriend and I were here, in my apartment. Someone broke the door down. The intruder is still here.”
“The police are on their way,” she tells me. “Stay on the line, ma’am. When exactly did this happen?”
“Just—” I gulp for breath. The simple act of speaking is winding me. There’s another slam and crash in the living room. Above the sound of Dylan’s steady cries, I hear Garrett give a guttural yell. “Just two minutes ago, maybe—I don’t know. Just get here—as fast as you can. I don’t know what’s happening out there.”
“Try to stay calm, ma’am,” the dispatcher says.
“Are they coming? Are the police on their way?” In my panicked state, I can barely think straight. I can’t remember if she said she sent the police.
“They should be arriving to you in just a few minutes. Are you in a safe position?”
“I—yes…?” I glance at the door. “I don’t know. I need to move the chair in front of the door, maybe.”
“Is that a baby crying?”
“That’s my son, Dylan.”
“I have the police pulling into Gateway Apartments, now. How many intruders do you estimate are in your apartment?”
I’ve left the crib, and am now trying to push my wooden chair under the doorknob, but Einstein is weaving between my legs. He’s clearly scared, too, and I’m glad he’s safe in the bedroom but frustrated that he’s getting in my way.
“I don’t know,” I say. I feel myself start to cry. “I don’t know! Just tell them to hurry.”
Secret Daddy Surprise - A Secret Baby Romance (Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL Book 4) Page 13
