Montana SEAL Undercover Daddy

by Elle James

  She’d been a fool to start believing that the past few days they’d been acting as a family were real. They weren’t. Everything had been an act to fool potential attackers. Only it had backfired.

  Kate had begun to believe that fairytales really could come true.

  She stared at the bed through her watery eyes, but couldn’t drag herself up off the floor to get there. Instead, she lay down on the hardwood flooring and closed her eyes.

  Maybe if she went to sleep, everything would be better in the morning. Chuck could have had second thoughts about never marrying or having children. They’d go on being a happy family— and pigs could learn to fly.

  Chuck paced the living room floor, crossing the length in a few short strides then conducting an about-face and crossing again. Two, then three times, he caught himself short of marching down the hallway and pounding on Kate’s door.

  She had to understand where he was coming from. He couldn’t open his heart again. It hurt way too much to lose someone you loved. The pain was worse than being shot and lasted so much longer.

  He couldn’t fall in love and risk losing everything all over again. But Kate made it easy to fall in love. Strong, capable and confident in herself, she was so very different from Anne. They weren’t anything alike.

  So, why couldn’t he leave her alone? Why did he want to hold her, kiss her and make love to again and again? He knew he couldn’t commit to a relationship.

  Kate deserved a man who wasn’t afraid of loving. A man who could give her the babies she now knew she wanted.

  Chuck wasn’t the man for her.

  But the thought of any other man being with her, holding her in his arms, kissing and touching her intimately nearly brought Chuck to his knees.

  How could he let her go into another man’s life when he wanted her?

  Holy hell. Was he falling in love with Kate?

  He stared toward the door at the end of the hallway. Was that what had him running scared?

  His head tried to tell him no, but his heart screamed yes!

  The truth stared him straight in the eye. He’d fallen for Kate. Totally, completely and irreversibly. No amount of denying it could change that fact now.

  Pushing her away had been a stupid defense mechanism he’d used on other women who’d tried to get close to him. The problem was that when he’d pushed her away, his heart went with her.

  As if of their own accord, his feet carried him down the hallway to the master bedroom door. He lifted his hand to knock.

  Before he could touch the wood-paneled door, pounding sounded on the front door in the living room.

  He hesitated, knowing he had to undo the damage he’d just done or risk Kate walking away without giving him a second chance.

  More pounding that had a desperation to it sounded. Chuck couldn’t ignore it.

  He gave one last glance at the door to the bedroom and ran for the front entrance.

  “Chuck! Help!” cried a shaky female voice on the other side.

  Chuck yanked open the door.

  The elderly Mrs. Turner fell inside and into his arms. “Oh, please, help me.”

  “Mrs. Turner, what’s wrong.

  “My house—” She coughed and drew in a ragged breath. “My house is on fire and Geraldine is still inside!”

  Even as she said the words, Chuck could smell the smoke.

  “Kate!” he yelled. “Kate!”

  Kate jerked open the door to the master bedroom, her hair in disarray, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. When she saw Mrs. Turner, she hurried toward them. “What’s happening?”

  “My house is on fire, and Geraldine is still inside,” Mrs. Turner wailed.

  Chuck held onto Mrs. Turner’s arms. “Who is Geraldine? A friend or relative?”

  “No. She’s my cat. Geraldine has been with me since my husband died. I can’t lose her.” The older woman pulled free of Chuck’s hands. “I have to find her.” She ran back out into the night.

  Chuck shot a glance at Kate. “I have to help her.”

  “Go,” she said. “I’ll call 911 and stay here with Lyla.”

  “Lock the doors behind me and don’t open for anyone but me.” He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. “When I get back, we have to talk.”

  “No, we don’t.” Kate pulled back out of his grip. “You’ve said enough. I’m not dumb. I get it when I’ve been brushed off.”

  “No, Kate. I was wrong. Very wrong. But I can’t do my apology justice until I make sure Mrs. Turner doesn’t run into a burning house to save a cat.”

  “We’ll be all right. Just go.” Kate held open the door.

  Chuck didn’t want to leave her, but Mrs. Turner would go back into a burning building to save her cat if he didn’t go after her and stop her.

  “Wait.” Kate ran to the kitchen, grabbed a dish towel and soaked it under the faucet. Quickly ringing it out, she handed it to him. “She can’t run all that fast. You can catch her before she goes in.”

  “Thanks.” He bent and brushed a quick kiss across her lips. “I was wrong, and you’re amazing. We’ll talk.”

  Then he ran out the door and across the yard to Mrs. Turner’s house. Smoke leached out of the open windows and flames shone through the glass of one of the bedrooms.

  The old woman was just reaching for the front doorknob.

  “Mrs. Turner, wait!” he called out.

  Mrs. Turner glanced back over her shoulder. “Geraldine.”

  “Don’t go in,” he shouted. “I will.”

  Mrs. Turner stood back as Chuck ran up the stairs.

  He touched the doorknob with the tip of his finger. It wasn’t hot, so he knew there wasn’t much of a blaze yet in the living room. If the smoke and fire was only in the bedroom, he might have a chance to find the cat and get out before the whole house went up in flames.

  “She’s probably hiding under the couch or in the closet in my bedroom, the first door on your left down the hall,” Mrs. Turner said. “She hides when she’s scared.”

  Chuck opened the door and was immediately assailed with smoke.

  He ducked low. “Promise me you’ll stay out of the house, Mrs. Turner.”

  She nodded. “I promise.”

  “I’ll do my best to find Geraldine.” Chuck held the damp towel over his nose and entered the house, hunkering as low as he could to remain below the rising smoke.

  Inside the house, the lights in the living room were still working. Apparently, the fire hadn’t reached the breaker box or the lines connecting the house to the power pole.

  He dropped to his knees and checked beneath the couch, feeling his way with his hands. Though he didn’t encounter a furball, he felt dust bunnies and cat toys.

  His eyes stung, but the towel helped to filter the smoke to keep him from breathing it into his lungs.

  Chuck checked the kitchen as he passed and entered the hallway. Smoke poured out from beneath one of the bedroom doors. He touched the door handle to find it extremely hot. The sooner he got out of the house, the better. Old houses were tinderboxes that fed a fire. When the fire spread into the walls and attic, it would be all over.

  Fortunately, the cat couldn’t have gone into the bedroom with the closed door or it would likely have already died of smoke inhalation.

  The first door on the left was open. Chuck pushed it wider and stepped inside. At first glance, he didn’t see any sign of the cat. But then he didn’t expect to. If the cat was in the bedroom, it would be under the bed or in the closet as Mrs. Turner had suggested.

  The closet door was open as well with a clothes basket on the floor inside.

  Though there were clothes in the basket, no cat was tangled amongst them.

  Chuck pulled the basket out and searched the back of the closet and up on the shelf above.

  No cat.

  The smoke grew thicker, making his eyes burn and water. Even the damp cloth over his mouth and nose wasn’t quite keeping him from breathing the thickening, tainted air. />
  Chuck dropped to his knees and crawled to the bed. The lights flickered and extinguished, leaving him feeling around in the dark.

  He first encountered what felt like a plastic storage container. Dragging that out from beneath the bed, he touched on what felt like a suitcase.

  The smoke was getting worse. He didn’t have much time left before he had to get out. The roar and heat of the fire intensified. Over his head, flames penetrated the ceiling and large flakes of burning embers and ash fell down around his legs.

  He scooted farther under the bed until he finally felt something furry. Grabbing onto a leg, he dragged Geraldine toward him and was scratched for his efforts.

  Refusing to release the leg he had, he pulled her closer, latched onto the scruff of her neck and inched backward until he cleared the bed.

  Fire raged around him, smoke making it impossible to breathe. He covered his mouth with the damp cloth, inhaled as deeply as he could and wrapped the cloth around the cat’s head and body and then dove for the door.

  Just as he neared the threshold, the hallway ceiling crashed down, blocking his escape. He slammed shut the door and ran for the window.

  When he tried to open it one-handed he couldn’t get the window to budge and he couldn’t put down the cat or it would go right back under the bed.

  With time running out, he snatched a pillow off the bed, removed the pillow out of the case and shoved the cat into the pillowcase.

  Quickly tying the opening in a knot, he set the cat on the floor, grabbed a vanity stool from near the dresser and bashed it against the window.

  The old glass shattered.

  Using the stool legs, he knocked the shards loose, tossed the cat in the pillowcase out on the grass and dove out just in time to breathe.

  Behind him, the ceiling of the room he’d been in, crashed in, flames and sparks shooting out in a spray of fireworks.

  Chuck sucked in air and coughed. Locating the pillowcase with the cat, he decided the cat was better off contained in the case. He lifted the cat, bag and all and rounded the front of the house.

  Sirens screamed in the distance, and soon, the Eagle Rock Fire Department arrived in force.

  Chuck located Mrs. Turner and handed her the cat in the bag. “Leave her in the bag for now or she might run away and get lost.”

  Mrs. Turner cried ugly tears as she clutched the smoke and soot-covered bag to her chest.

  Inside, the cat yowled.

  Chuck didn’t care. He’d saved the woman’s cat. Now, he had to get back to the little, yellow house and make sure the sparks from the Turner house didn’t catch his home on fire.

  Chapter 11

  Kate stared out the side window facing Mrs. Turner’s house, her heart beating fast, worry making it impossible to settle down. She’d dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and pulled on her shoes.

  She had to be ready in case the fire spread from one house to the other. It hadn’t rained the entire time she’d been in Eagle Rock, which meant the vegetation was dry and could catch fire from one of the many flying embers kicked up by the wind.

  “Mama?” Lyla’s voice sounded behind her.

  Kate turned away from the devastation and held open her arms. “Hey, sweetie. Come here.”

  Lyla padded across the floor and into Kate’s arms. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Did you have another bad dream?” she asked and combed her fingers through her niece’s hair. “I could read another book to you, if you like.”

  Lyla shook her head and looked over Kate’s shoulder to the window. “Is that a fire?”

  Kate took her hand and held it in hers. “Yes, it is.”

  “Will the fire come here?”

  “No, sweetie,” Kate said, though she wasn’t so sure herself. She’d be ready if it did. Getting Lyla to safety was her number one goal.

  Pounding sounded on the door. “Police, open up! You need to evacuate, now.”

  Lyla squealed and buried her face in Kate’s neck. “I’m scared.”

  “It’s okay, honey. They just want us to get out in case the fire does spread. We’re okay.”

  Lyla dared to lift her head. “Where’s Daddy? I want Daddy Chuck.”

  Kate did, too.

  More pounding sounded on the door. “Open up. You have to evacuate now,” the voice called out.

  Again, Lyla shrank against Kate.

  Kate grabbed her purse from the counter and Lyla’s blanket from the bedroom, and she ran for the door, carrying Lyla.

  For a second, she hesitated. Chuck had warned her not to open the door for anyone but him. Surely he didn’t expect her to ignore the police.

  She unlocked the deadbolt and the lock on the knob. When she twisted the knob to open the door, it slammed inward, knocking her backward.

  A man rushed in followed by a woman.

  Kate didn’t have time to think, nor the ability to defend herself with her hands full of Lyla. A cloth was shoved into her face, and she inhaled a sickly-sweet scent.

  “Get the girl,” the man said, his voice rough, urgent.

  Kate’s legs weakened, and she couldn’t hold onto Lyla as someone yanked her from her arms.

  “No, you can’t take her,” she mumbled, her vocal cords no longer hers to control as she slipped into the darkness and fell into the man’s arms.

  Her last coherent thought was of Chuck.

  Please, help us.

  The Eagle Rock Fire Chief waylaid Chuck as he crossed Mrs. Turner’s yard, taking precious seconds of his time. He told the chief he’d be back to answer all his questions once he checked on his wife and daughter.

  Chuck ran back to the little, yellow house and took the porch steps two at time, arriving at the front door.

  His heart sank to the pit of his belly when he found the front door ajar. Without going inside, he knew.

  Kate and Lyla were gone.

  Inside, Kate’s purse lay spilled across the floor, and Lyla’s blanket lay beside it.

  He raced through the little house, praying he was wrong but knowing the truth. When he returned to the front door, he had his cellphone out, dialing Hank.

  Hank answered halfway through the first ring. “I was just about to jump in the truck. I heard on the police scanner that Old Lady Turner’s house was on fire. Are you guys all right?”

  His hand tightened on the phone. “I’m all right, but Kate and Lyla are gone.”

  “How?”

  In a few abrupt sentences, Chuck explained about Mrs. Turner’s cat and finding the door open, Kate’s purse and Lyla’s blanket.

  “Any sign of forced entry?” Hank asked.

  “No.”

  “Based on the purse and blanket, she opened the door, thinking she had to get out,” Hank surmised.

  Knowing he’d failed them, Chuck couldn’t give up. He had to find them. “Where would they have taken them?”

  “If Kate’s still wearing the necklace I gave her, we can track her. Let me get Swede on it right now. And I’ll be there in fifteen minutes—ten, if I own the road.” Hank ended the call as abruptly as he’d answered.

  Chuck left the house and returned to find Mrs. Turner sobbing in the arms of the fire chief.

  When Chuck walked up, the chief took the opportunity to untangle himself from the older woman. “I have to check on a few things.”

  Mrs. Turner faced her house, tears slipping down her wrinkled cheeks. The fire had been extinguished, but the firefighters were still unloading gallons of water on the smoldering embers.

  “Everything I own is gone. Everything. Including my husband’s ashes.”

  “Mrs. Turner, you have Geraldine,” Chuck reminded her.

  She sniffed and hugged the cat still confined to the pillowcase. “Poor thing is beside herself.”

  As if on cue, the cat yowled a long, pained sound.

  “If you need a place to stay, you can stay at our place,” Chuck offered.

  “I wouldn’t dream of putting you out,” Mrs. Turner said. “I
can stay with Hugh and Greta or Wanda.”

  Chuck’s jaw tightened. “You won’t be putting us out. In fact, you’ll have the place to yourself. Kate and Lyla had to leave. Family emergency.”

  Mrs. Turner touched his arm. “Oh, dear. I hope it isn’t major.”

  “Me, too. We’ll know more with time. For now, though, I have to leave as well. Work called. I have to go.”

  “You sure you won’t mind if I stay in the house?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Thank you. I’d rather be close by in case someone needs to ask me anything. And when they let me back into the wreckage, I hope to be able to salvage something. Anything.” She sniffed and more tears slid down her tired face.

  “I’m sure Kate wouldn’t mind if you borrow some of her clothing. Help yourself to anything. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Hugh and Greta arrived a moment later, giving Chuck the chance to make his escape. He started toward Main Street and found a man walking his dog talking to a policeman.

  “Excuse me,” the man called out.

  Chuck slowed, his eyes narrowing.

  “Do you live in the yellow house?” the man asked.

  “I do,” Chuck replied.

  “I’ve been trying to tell this officer that I saw something that worried me.”

  Chuck sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “What did you see?”

  “I’m new in town, but I like to walk my dog out here, because I can let Brutus off his leash to run and no one cares. I was at the end of the road when the shit hit the fan with the old lady’s house.” He waved toward the darkened end of the road. “Damned dog got a wild hair up his ass and chased off after a rabbit in the dark.”

  Chuck glanced over the man’s shoulder toward Main Street, watching for Hank’s truck. He wished the man would get to point.

  “Anyway,” the stranger continued. “I was back in the woods, trying to get Brutus back on his leash, when I heard the woman yelling. I got back to the road in time to see a man carrying a large sack over his shoulder, getting into a van. Then a woman carrying a crying child got into the van, and they drove away.” He pointed toward the yellow cottage. “They came from that direction. I was afraid they were ransacking the house, but I wasn’t there in time to stop them.”