Healed (The Found Book 3)

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “Seriously, I’m fine,” she turned her head and kissed his fingers.

  “No blurred vision?”

  “I’m telling you, I’m fine.” He was beginning to annoy her. Then she thought better of it. She had all this fine man concerned about her, in bed with her. How could she be angry? She speared her fingers through his chest hair, and that was when she saw it.

  “What the hell?!” She sat up so fast, she knocked her head into his chin, but Nate just laughed. She scrabbled over to the bedside lamp and it took her three attempts before she could turn it on.

  “Oh my God Nate, it’s beautiful.” There on the ring finger of her left hand was the most beautiful marquis cut diamond ring, and on either side were two pink sapphires. She started to cry.

  “Hey, wait a minute Angel, this was supposed to make you happy.”

  “I am happy you doofus.” She threw herself on top of him, and then swung her arm high in the air where they both could admire the ring.

  “Nate, this is perfect. This is exactly what I wanted, how did you know?” It really was. It really, really was. Wait a minute. She looked over at him.

  “I might have gone shopping with your mother.”

  “I love, love, love you Nate Goodman.”

  “That’s great. Because I love, love, love you Sarah Johnson.”

  Epilogue

  It had been a month since the operation in D.C. that left Stovers dead. Many of the team were off looking for Ilsa and Garen. Brice offered to introduce Nate to his Guardian from Europe, since it was where Ilsa and Garen were from, but Nate wasn’t interested. All of his focus was on Sarah and Alma. After Sarah’s flameout, Nate wanted to stick close by. He knew there wasn’t anything Sarah could do for the baby at least not yet. But he wanted to be around if she came up with some brainstorm that would cause her to flameout again.

  Currently they were at Noah and Kali’s home in Laguna Beach. It was basically a fortress. The found could now hold the baby without negative repercussions. But it hurt him almost as much as it hurt her grandmother to have to wear the lead lined protective gear to hold her. What’s more, Alma still struggled. She was fifteen months old, she obviously comprehended what everybody was telling her, but she wasn’t believing them. She believed she would always hurt people no matter what they told her to the contrary.

  Alma’s quality of life sucked.

  Nate was lying on the grass letting his godson Joshua crawl on his chest. There was no way a boy who was less than two months old should be crawling, but he was. His sister Grace was trying to get in on the action. Nate was wearing the lead lined gloves in hopes Alma might want to join in. Kali and Noah were convinced Alma would not be able to hurt the wonder twins, and had been trying to get her to play with them.

  Nate turned his head and the sun blinded him. He knew the two girls were safe, because they had a little child’s fence put up around them, as well as the big fence around the yard. All he could really see were two blurs getting closer together. Nate sat up.

  “Ahhh” Joshua said, like he had just ridden on a ride. Nate supposed he had since his sit up pushed him almost three feet up in the air. He knee walked over to the girls and saw Grace and Alma were staring at one another. Alma had her normal sad look, but Gracie was smiling. Joshua pushed to be let down. He immediately crawled over and tackled Alma. Nate’s first instinct was to grab his godson off the girl, but he let nature take its course.

  Nate expected her to struggle or go stiff, but Alma lay there relaxed, looking up at Joshua who had her pinned. Joshua held out his arm to Gracie who then crawled over and plunked onto Alma as well. This time Alma smiled. They stayed that way for a long time, until finally they started to roll around and wrestle. One on top of the other. Joshua then broke away and crawled over to Nate, and started pulling off his glove. It was a tough process, but the little boy was determined. Nate felt eyes on him, and he glanced behind him. Sure enough, they definitely acquired an audience. But none of the adults moved any closer. They were like him, not wanting to do anything to screw up a good thing.

  “Joshua, do you want me to take off the gloves?” The dark head nodded vigorously. “What about you Gracie?” He looked over at Grace whose head was lying against Alma’s stomach, her thumb in her mouth. She nodded her head.

  “Okay kids, the gloves are coming off.” Joshua clapped, and Alma looked at him with concern, but not horror.

  “Is it time for a pig pile?” Nate lay back down in the grass and wasn’t surprised when his godson was the first warm body to throw himself on top of him. Joshua and Gracie loved the game of capturing the Navy Chief. He didn’t have long to wait, even though Gracie loved her thumb, she loved the pig pile game more. He felt her slight weight come down on his left hip and he smiled.

  He looked into the sun, and sure enough there was another little body headed his way. He held his breath. Please God, let these two little munchkins get through to Alma where the adults didn’t. Nate kept saying his prayers until finally a more substantial weight hit him on his stomach as Alma belly flopped on top of him. It’d worked. Holy Hell, thank you Jesus. He was fine. She wasn’t screaming. It worked! She looked at him with excitement, waiting for some sort of confirmation.

  “If you’re going to be like this Alma, you’re going to get tickled.” Nate reached down and gently tickled the little girl’s ribs. She shrieked with laughter.

  By God he’d be getting her a kitten before the end of the day.

  THE END

  I’m often asked by generous readers how they can help get the word out about a book they enjoyed. There are so many ways to help an author you like. Leave a review. Recommend the books you love because stories are meant to be shared. Thank you so much for reading this book and supporting all the authors you love! - Caitlyn

  Biography

  Caitlyn O’Leary was raised in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. She has always been an avid reader. Her earliest creative writing endeavors consisted of “ghost writing” exercises where she pretended to be her younger brothers and sister when she did their homework assignments.

  Years in corporate America honed her ability to manipulate words by day and at night she read everything she could get her hands on, including many steamy romances.

  Now happily married to her long, tall Texan and living in Southern California, Caitlyn has finally found the time to write erotic happily ever afters. She enjoys swimming, traveling, babysitting for her nieces and nephews, spending time with friends and family, and doing lots of “research” with her husband for upcoming novels.

  Keep up with Caitlyn O’Leary:

  Facebook: http://tinyurl.com/nuhvey2

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/CaitlynOLearyNA

  Pinterest: http://tinyurl.com/q36uohc

  Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/nqy66h7

  Website: http://www.caitlynoleary.com

  Email: caitlyn@caitlynoleary.com

  Books by Caitlyn O’Leary

  The Found Series

  Revealed, Book One

  Forsaken, Book Two

  Healed, Book Three

  Navy Seal Series

  Her Vigilant SEAL, Book One (Coming August 2015)

  Fate Harbor Series Published by Siren/Bookstrand

  Trusting Chance, Book One

  Protecting Olivia, Book Two

  Claiming Kara, Book Three

  Isabella’s Submission, Book Four

  Cherishing Brianna, Book Five

  Thorn’s Bondmate

  Mardi Maxwell

  COPYRIGHT 2015

  Chapter One

  Washington, D.C. March 2055

  SENTINEL REPORTER MISSING ... POLICE SUSPECT FOUL PLAY

  “Sentinel reporter Daria Zane left work Friday evening and hasn't been seen since. Before leaving she told her editor, Malcolm Payne, she was meeting with an informant concerning the hundreds of missing women in the Washington, D.C. area. When Ms. Zane failed to arrive for work Monday morning Mr. Payne contacted the police a
nd a unit was dispatched. The officers found Ms. Zane's apartment door kicked in and her home ransacked.

  Ms. Zane is five feet ten inches tall, medium weight with long black hair and distinctive violet eyes. She was last seen wearing blue jeans, a black leather jacket, and black running shoes. The police ask anyone with information concerning her whereabouts to contact them at the following number...”

  Daria read the public notification board as she passed it then ducked into another group of people and moved along with them. She'd been on the run for four days but had finally lost her pursuers earlier by joining a group of office-bound workers. Now, though, the crowd thinned as people entered their work places, forcing her to search for a place to hide and finding the entry to an alley twenty feet ahead. She moved to the edge of the crowd and slipped into the shadows of the alley then sidled between two high stacks of boxes that lined one side.

  Exhausted and filthier than she'd ever been in her life, she leaned against the building and closed her eyes. At her wits end, she didn't know who she could trust with the information she'd learned about the missing women. Shivering, she crouched and grabbed the broken laces on her shoe. The dried blood that coated them brought tears of exhaustion and anger to her eyes. She mumbled several curses directed toward the men pursuing her as she tied them into a bulky knot. She pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them and rested her head on her knees.

  Four days ago she'd received a call from a woman saying she had information about a bunch of the missing women. Excited, she'd arranged to meet her on the lower level of a nearby parking garage then told her editor about the meeting. Upon arrival she'd found the woman hiding in the shadows. As she'd approached her, Daria had been surprised to see her friend Marie's step-sister, Emma. She'd pulled Daria into the shadows while she told her what she'd overheard her boss, James Martin, his brother Senator George Martin, and several other men discussing.

  The Martins owned one of the largest and oldest pharmaceutical companies in the country, and Emma was James' executive assistant. The previous night she'd stayed late to finish a report, but after placing it on his desk she'd remembered he'd asked for several other files. She'd gone to the file room to pull the files and as she'd put them on his desk she'd heard him and several other men talking in the conference room.

  While trying to decide if she should offer to have some food brought in, she heard what they were discussing—a trade deal made with a race of aliens called the Witvians. Apparently, in exchange for young and attractive women they were receiving a constant and plentiful supply of a new drug they called Aphrogen. The drug had been stolen from the Zarronians who called it ZL3.

  When Daria had asked who else was at the meeting the list of attendees had staggered her. Not only had the owner of the Sentinel been there but so had the Chief of Police, several powerful businessmen, a well-known General, and three high-ranking politicians. Most amazing of all was the Zarronian warrior who had been present. Emma had described him as tall with dark hair and light grey eyes. She'd also said he had been wearing platinum and gold armbands with red stones. A description that wasn’t much help as she'd already seen more than one warrior with that description and armbands with red stones. Before she'd been able to ask Emma to describe the exact color of the stones the sound of squealing tires and slamming car doors had reached them. Several men had run toward them and she and Emma took off as bullets whizzed by them. Just as she'd thought they were going to make it, Emma had been struck by a bullet. Daria had tried to pull her to safety but to no avail as she'd been fatally wounded. She'd had no choice but to leave her behind and run for her life.

  While she rested she decided she couldn't go to anyone on Earth. She also couldn't go to the Zarronians as any one of them could be involved. The only person she thought she could go to was the Zarronian Ambassador, Valan Eirikson. She was a good judge of character and her instincts told her she could trust him. She'd met him at a news conference at the White House six months ago. Most of the questions he'd been asked had been answered with an intimidating stare and a 'no comment.' But, as he'd walked out she'd caught him staring at her eyes and she'd hastily asked if he was married, first in English and then in his own language. He'd looked surprised while the more seasoned reporters around her had laughed at her question. For a moment he'd stared at her then he'd smiled and in his own language he'd told her about his wife, Lia. The other reporters had tried to get close enough to hear what he said but his warriors had kept them back.

  Afterwards she'd rushed back to her office, written the story and turned it in. Two days later she'd been offered an exclusive interview with the Ambassador. Stunned, she'd accepted and presented herself at the Zarronian landing station at the designated time. When he'd introduced her to his wife, Madami Valan, Daria had nearly fainted with excitement. As far as she knew there wasn't anyone on Earth who had ever seen a Zarronian female much less spoken to one. Madami Valan had answered her questions while she'd given her a tour of the transfer station which in itself was surprising. When she'd insisted on giving her a tour of their starship Daria had nearly hyperventilated. Nobody had ever been allowed to board one of their starships and return to Earth.

  Of course, she'd had to promise not to write anything about the starship but she'd been given permission to write up the interview with Madami Valan. The article she'd written and the accompanying picture of Madami Valan showing her how to operate one of the food processors at the landing station had made her famous. It had also drawn the attention of several government agencies who demanded access to her recordings of the interview. When she'd admitted there wasn't one and that she'd only taken written notes they'd demanded details. A big disadvantage now that she was on the run. If she could make it to the landing station though she might be able to sneak onto one of their ships and hide until they reached Zarronia. Then, and only then, would she announce her presence and ask to see Ambassador Eirikson.

  Hours later the sound of a garbage truck dropping a heavy metal bin woke her. Daria rubbed her tired eyes then peeked out. At the end of the alley, the lunch crowd hurried by taking no note of her hiding place. Reluctantly, she joined them for a few blocks until she saw a sign for a thrift shop. Darting through the door, she moved into the deep shadows between two racks of used clothes but kept an eyes on the door. When it remained empty she breathed a sigh of relief and began looking for something to wear.

  The teenage clerk at the counter looked at her once then went back to the magazine she was reading. Daria chose a long dress in a dark blue color and a pair of black ankle boots. In the back of the shop she found a rack of coats next to a shelf of hats and amazingly a row of wigs. She grabbed a thick coat then chose a shoulder length blonde wig. Gathering her choices she carried them to the counter where the young clerk reluctantly lowered the magazine. She smiled then showed her the cover featuring several Zarronian warriors. "Aren't they hot?" She fanned herself. "I ran into one coming out of a building last week. He was huge and so good-looking." She laughed. "My boyfriend got mad because I flirted with him, but I mean, really, who wouldn't?"

  Daria smiled but thought not me. No way, ever. They had too many secrets and she'd learned the hard way that people with secrets were dangerous."

  The girl looked down at the items Daria placed on the counter. "Is that all you want?"

  "Yes."

  "It's half-price day. Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

  Daria smiled then noticed a display of sunglasses. She grabbed a pair and added them to the pile.

  The girl added up the price. "Eight credits."

  Daria shuffled her feet. She didn't dare use her credit chip. She pretended to search the tote she carried then patted the pockets of her jacket. "I don’t have any credits. Will you take a trade?"

  "I don't know. What kind of trade?"

  Daria shrugged the leather jacket from her shoulders. "How about my jacket?"

  The clerk hesitated then smiled and nodded. Daria handed it ov
er. "Could I use your ladies room to clean up and change?"

  "The boss says we're not supposed to let the customers use the facilities. If we let one then they'll all be coming in here."

  "Please? I have a job interview this afternoon. I'll be quick." Daria glanced out the front window of the store. Thankfully, she didn’t see anyone waiting for her but that didn't mean they weren't out there.

  The clerk shoved the jacket onto a shelf below the register then nodded. "If you hurry you can use it. The boss won't be back until one. If he comes back early you can just duck out the back door. Okay?"

  Daria picked up the pile of clothes. "Thank you. You're a lifesaver."

  The clerk laughed and pointed toward the back of the store. "The bathroom is in the back to your right. The light should be on. The boss doesn't like me to leave it on but it's spooky back there in the dark, you know?"

  "I know. I don't like the dark either," Daria whispered, remembering how scared she'd been the last four nights while hiding in any dark corner she could find. She moved to the door into the back room and peered around.

  The room was dim and full of tables stacked with bundles of clothes. Directly across from her a door led to the alley. Beside it was an open door with light shining from it. Figuring it was the bathroom she moved toward it, went inside and locked the door before she looked in the mirror. She was a mess. Grime covered her face and her hair was a tangled mess. The right shoulder of her sweater hung from her shoulder. A dried blood stain on her sweater looked like a coffee stain. Only she knew it was Emma's blood. Looking away from it, she turned on the hot water not expecting anything to happen and was proven right. She turned the other faucet and a dribble of cold water fell into the bowl. A small sliver of soap melted in a pool of water on the sink.