Navy SEAL Surrender

by Angi Morgan

  Pictures. Video. Why hadn’t he brought Dev’s cell to record the exchange? He’d thought only of rescuing Lauren, and that Alicia needed the phone for her safety. Nothing else. It was too far to run back and retrieve the thing. He’d taken images of Weber in the truck, but a recorded conversation would be damning and convict the Webers, clearing Alicia. It couldn’t be explained away as easily as a ride in an old truck.

  After the rescue, mother and daughter would be together. At least that met his priority objective.

  Weber appeared nervous and hesitant walking up the steps to the wide well-lit porch. He shifted the gym bag from shoulder to shoulder. If he and Shauna had nothing to do with the kidnapping, delivering the ransom without police involvement wasn’t a good idea. They had to be guilty.

  Then where’s the money? Dev was the best, and he was having problems finding it.

  The outside light flicked on. Weber was greeted by a surprised young woman. A man yelled. As soon as he walked inside, an argument began. Indistinguishable words, but John could guess what it concerned.

  John darted behind the darkened house, pausing at the raised earth of the cellar. No outside guard. No one standing watch. No cattle or horses in the field. No dogs and not even a sign of a cat. He zigzagged the open twenty yards to the corner of the bathroom.

  Words like in charge and highfalutin popped through the thin walls, along with a host of four-letter words. Unless Patrick Weber’s voice had shifted from a tenor to a deep bass, the man he’d joined wasn’t a happy camper. Weber showing up—especially without the extra cash—wasn’t to their liking. But neither was the surprise demand for more. The way the men discussed the details was additional proof that Lauren’s step-grandparents were in charge of the entire kidnapping. But there still wasn’t evidence that would clear Alicia or Brian.

  John kept his back to the paint-peeling wood, glancing into the windows of each room. At the rear of the house, one of the window units had plywood over the glass. Bingo. Lauren had to be in that room. The wood was new and the nailing sloppy, but he couldn’t pry it loose with just his hands or the multitool that lived in his back pocket. There wasn’t anything lying around to help. He couldn’t risk losing time searching the barn.

  Just past the window was another porch. Kitchen. Back door. He tried the knob. Unlocked. He cracked it open. No squeak.

  Weapon ready, John crept inside, leaving the door open behind him, and silently got his back to the cabinets near the main room. Only one way into the rest of the house. In fact, there weren’t any hallways. All the rooms opened onto the front room, where everyone was located.

  “You ain’t gettin’ the kid till I get the rest of the dough,” the second man screamed.

  The yelling grew louder. More erratic. Covering several subjects. About staying in an old rattrap of a house. About Tory, the woman who had answered the door. About how tired he was of babysitting a kid. The woman screamed back, seeming to hold her own until the big guy backhanded her. And Weber remained silent, looking edgy.

  The anxiety landing in the pit of John’s gut wasn’t good. This second man seemed to be strung out—no telling what drug he was high on or what he was capable of doing. Tory kept trying to appease him, calm him.

  It didn’t work. And after a second brutal slap, she pressed against the wall and out of his reach. Getting Lauren out of the house fast was imperative.

  “Take the money,” Weber encouraged. “There’s twenty-five grand here.”

  “We decided we need more, and you gotta pay to keep us shut up.”

  “Then leave it.” Weber shrugged.

  John surveyed the living room via a wall mirror he could see from where he stood. The girl was blond, petite and had a deeply black eye. There were bruises up and down her arms.

  “Come on, babe. This is what we’ve waited for.” The girl tugged on the man’s arm. “Twenty-five thousand gets us on a beach in the Bahamas.”

  “Stop hanging on me, you whore.” He propelled her away and she collided with the TV stand. The old set crashed to the floor and Weber didn’t cringe or react. “I told you, you ain’t getting the kid for less than half a mil.”

  “You’re certain about that?” Weber dropped the bag from his shoulder.

  John heard the zipper. Did Weber really think he could convince this guy to take the money by showing it to him? Aw, hell. There must be a gun in the top of the bag.

  Should he wait for Weber to draw and hope the big guy could defend himself? Then he’d proceed to where he thought Lauren could possibly be located. Or should he stop Weber before he killed the only two people who could prove Alicia’s innocence?

  “Hold it.” John spun around the corner and aimed his 9 mm at Weber.

  “Who the hell are you?” The big man took a step closer to him.

  “Far enough.” John shifted his aim between the two men. The second was easily five inches taller than John and outweighed him by a good eighty pounds. The man was a damn giant.

  “What are you doing here, Sloane?” Weber asked.

  “You know this bastard?” the other man said to Weber, but advanced toward John.

  “Stay back and, Weber, show me your hands.” He gestured with the gun for them to move to the outside wall. “Slowly stand up and back away from the bag.”

  “I’m going to tear you both to shreds.”

  “Back to your corner, Gargantuan.” He kept both men in his view, but lost sight of Tory. Served him right if something hit him over the head for being so careless, but it wouldn’t help Lauren.

  “You should leave. I’m here to get the kid back and you’re mucking everything up.” Weber stood, but suspiciously slipped his hand into his pocket.

  “I know why you’re here, and it won’t work.”

  “I disagree.” Weber dived for the bag, rolled and fired.

  John couldn’t discharge his weapon for the same reason he’d tried to prevent Weber from shooting. He couldn’t risk injuring Lauren or the kidnappers. But that wouldn’t stop the others from taking the risk.

  When Weber dived toward the front door, Gargantuan dived straight into John. The woman who cowered in the corner scurried in the opposite direction. John lost sight of Weber when a thick shoulder hit his kidney, stunning him with the force. He kept his grip on his gun, hitting the giant of a man in the side of the head.

  Gargantuan didn’t flinch, just locked his arms around John’s midsection and started squeezing. He wasn’t just huge, he absorbed all the hard-hitting blows John could deliver. The deadlock around his ribs had him struggling for air. He couldn’t get any traction with his feet dangling. Then the giant shoved him into the wall.

  The gun flew while old picture frames banged to the floor. John watched his defense land close to the front door. Hand to hand it would have to be.

  John used his legs to do his own shoving. They both shot across the room. Gargantuan lost his balance but not his grip as they crashed between the chair and couch. John could only see the nicotine-yellowed ceiling, but the voice of a child was very distinct behind one of the doors.

  “Help.”

  * * *

  ALICIA RAN TO the farm, imitating John’s movements, and following as much of the path as she’d watched earlier. The car she came to warn John about was still parked—waiting for something. Just like when they’d run from the house that morning, she got close to the fence and tried to blend in with the trees. Once she reached the open yard, she skirted around the edge of the houses before getting close to the back porch.

  The door was open. She heard thrashing inside and then distinct sounds of a car door out front. Could John already have Lauren?

  * * *

  JOHN THRUST HIS elbow under Gargantuan’s ribs. Again. Then again.

  Blessed relief around his chest was followed with direct hits simult
aneously to his ears. He saw two women—or maybe it was one and he was seeing double—twist a dead bolt on one of the doors.

  They were moving Lauren. He had to get free.

  A quick shake of his head, attempting to clear it, just made the double vision worse. His ears burned as much as his anger at being taken by surprise by Weber’s bully. And Weber.

  He flipped around and landed a couple of punches to a massive chest. He saw the woman running, dragging Lauren behind her. Escaping.

  Time to end this.

  * * *

  AFRAID SOMEONE WAS leaving with Lauren, Alicia ran around the house to stop them. The porch light was enough to see Patrick running to the driveway, waving an arm above his head. He carried a bag, but didn’t have Lauren. She stayed in the dark at the edge of the porch. Should she go in the house? Where was John?

  More crashing. Shadows of bodies hit the curtains. Two men were fighting. It must be John. She searched the darkness, trying to get her eyes to adjust to find Patrick, but he’d disappeared. A car—most likely the one from the road—was headed toward the house.

  A tiny, frightened whimper. Alicia’s attention snapped to the porch.

  “Patrick, wait,” a woman shouted, shoving the screen door against the wall as she ran through.

  “Lauren.” Though a little dirty, her daughter seemed uninjured.

  “Mommy! Mommy!” Lauren struggled to free her wrist from a familiar young woman. The struggling forced the woman to pause and get control. When Lauren couldn’t get free, her daughter threw herself to the porch, taking her captor to her knees and turning her face toward Alicia.

  “Tory?”

  * * *

  GARGANTUAN WOULDN’T STAY DOWN. John threw his head backward, connecting with the man’s nose. He heard the familiar crunch of cartilage breaking and took advantage of his opponent’s momentary stunned state to scramble to his feet.

  Twelve years in the navy had taught him a couple of things about hand-to-hand combat. It was time to let some of it kick into high gear. There was no guilt at a few dirty tricks to get this kidnapper on the floor.

  Another punch caught him in the chin, but he returned with three quick jabs of his own. He hit a bloody nose twice, obtaining a groan of pain from his opponent. He spun, kicked, connected. Boot sliced flesh.

  Gargantuan finally looked dazed. Another kick to the head. He fell through the kitchen doorway and didn’t get up.

  Where the hell is my gun?

  * * *

  ALICIA WATCHED AS Tory waved the handgun like an inexperienced teenager afraid of what she held. She yanked Lauren onto her side, the gun so close she could accidentally hit her little girl.

  Lauren squirmed on Tory’s hip.

  “Be still!” the frightened young woman shouted. “Stay away. Just stay back.”

  “It’s okay, princess.” Alicia tried to sound calm while coaxing her baby to keep out of the line of fire. “Stay there and be still, sweetheart. Do what Tory says.”

  “I don’t want to stay with her no more, Mommy.”

  “Shut up,” Tory hysterically screamed, pounding the gun against her skull. “I can’t think what I need to do.”

  “Princess, please be still and let me see if Miss Tory will let you come home.”

  “That ain’t never goin’ to happen. Not until— Patrick?” Tory searched the dark, the gun pointed casually toward Lauren again. “God, Patrick, don’t leave me.”

  Nervous, anxious, uncertain... Alicia shoved a stopper into those emotions before they clouded her judgment. But whatever she felt, Tory was horrifically worse. She’d clearly been beaten and was terrified. She searched the yard, pointing the gun practically everywhere, including at Lauren.

  Alicia couldn’t wrap her mind around who held the hand of her daughter. Shauna had to be responsible for the kidnapping. Tory worked for minimum wage at Mary’s day care. She didn’t have enough money or influence to create a money trail that would frame her.

  It was Shauna. It had to be.

  “We’re going to get in that car and drive away from here.” Tory wrapped Lauren tightly across the front of her body, using her daughter as a human shield. “Do you hear me, Alicia? Nobody comes near me or I’ll shoot. I don’t want to, but I will.”

  Lauren cried, chanting, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.”

  It broke her heart not to sprint to Tory and lock her daughter into a tight embrace of love.

  “You don’t have to do this, Tory. We can work things out. No one will ever know.”

  Flashing police lights spun into the night near where they’d left the rental. Lights from the car that had been lurking for so long popped to life at the end of the driveway, heading toward the house.

  “It’s too late. I’m not going to jail. I’m sorry, but Lauren’s my only chance.”

  “Don’t be crazy, Tory. Patrick and Shauna have to be behind this. All you have to do is tell the police what happened. You can make a deal.”

  Tory took the steps to the yard fast and ran to the parked car. “I’m not going to jail. Stay there. I swear I’ll shoot.” Her voice was full of panic as she jerked the gun around, her finger on the trigger, Lauren still in her arms. “We’re going.”

  “Mommy, please,” Lauren sobbed. Frightened tears streamed down her little cheeks as her hands stretched past her captor toward Alicia.

  Alicia watched in horror as Tory tripped and fell behind the car. She heard a petrified scream from her little girl. Gun or no gun, she ran to rescue her daughter.

  On the far side of the car, two bodies struggled, outlines until the beams from the car drew closer. Tory sat on John’s chest, a crazed look on her face, her hands swiping at him like bobcat claws.

  “Go. Find your daughter. I’ve got this,” John said as he locked his long fingers around one of the wrists still slapping at him.

  Lauren was nowhere in sight. She couldn’t help him; she had to find her daughter.

  “Lauren! Where are you, princess?” she called with no success. “Are you hurt? Lauren, baby, where are you?”

  Movement at the edge of the darkness, near the trees. Lauren. Headlights momentarily blinded her before the car cut her off from her baby.

  “Mommy, help me.”

  “Get her, dammit,” Shauna shrieked from the driver’s seat.

  Alicia ran, following her daughter’s wails. Near the car that had just stopped, she saw Patrick grab Lauren from her hiding place under his parked truck and lift her into his arms, slapping a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. She started to run toward them and the car door opened, broadsiding Alicia to the ground, knocking her breath from her lungs.

  “No! I don’t want to go with you. I want my mommy.”

  A shot echoed between the house and trees.

  Oh, my God. The last she’d seen, Tory had the gun and had been struggling with John. But she had to get Lauren before Patrick left with her.

  “Baby.” Alicia rolled away from the car door to her knees. Just as her feet were under her, she was pulled back to the ground. John. Relief blasted through her as sharply as that shot had pierced the night.

  “Let me go.”

  On the ground with her, he clapped a hand across her mouth to keep her quiet, but kept them moving to the edge of the house. “Don’t fight me. We can’t get her. Believe me.”

  The police sirens blasted into the yard. The cars stopped, blocking the drive at the top of the circle. John half dragged, half rolled Alicia into the complete blackness cast by the house’s shadow. He covered her with his body and waited. What was he doing? She had to get Lauren.

  “Thank God you’re here. It was them.” Shauna yelled at both officers who approached her. “They’re here. She was just here with her junkie boyfriend. Find and arrest them before they get away!”

&nbs
p; There was no way to escape, lying under him. He remained motionless and didn’t bother to relieve some of the heaviness of his muscled body, which cut off her oxygen.

  She could still see the charade being played out in front of her eyes. An intense drama with no comic relief or happy ending in sight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Is she dead?” Shauna asked the first officer who pulled up, now kneeling by Tory.

  From next to the house, John had a decent view of the action playing out in the driveway. Just like the situation he’d been in a couple of years back when a buddy got wounded with hostile fire on both sides. He clamped his hand tightly over Alicia’s mouth and froze.

  No movement. No sound. It was crucial not to draw attention to themselves right now. If they did, they might as well surrender. He didn’t surrender.

  “Hang tight or they’ll see us,” he whispered directly into her ear.

  “See when backup’s going to get here,” the older officer commanded his much younger counterpart. “Then check the house without destroying all the evidence.”

  Patrick Weber stared at the woman lying there, motionless. He didn’t utter a sound or show any remorse.

  “Shouldn’t we look for those other two who got away?” The younger officer drew his weapon and walked directly to where John was trying to control a squirming Alicia.

  “Do what I said,” the older officer yelled, reversing the younger guy in his tracks. “We’ve rescued the girl and can’t leave the scene.”

  Shauna ran to Weber and jerked Alicia’s daughter from her husband’s arms. “Oh, Lauren, thank God we found you.”

  Weber walked a little less hesitantly to the rear of his truck and dropped the tailgate. John could no longer see his face, but he saw a puff of smoke. The distinct smell of cigarettes drifted to their hiding place.

  Lauren looked surprisingly like a miniature Alicia. Her face was grimy and tear streaked, clothes filthy, curly hair a tangled mess. The kid definitely had the will to fight like her mother. She squirmed, tugged on hair and slapped. When Shauna swatted her behind, Lauren silently cried, drawing in huge gulps of air around her two middle fingers she’d stuck in her mouth.