Band of Bachelors: Jake2: Book 4 (SEAL Brotherhood)

Home > Other > Band of Bachelors: Jake2: Book 4 (SEAL Brotherhood) > Page 12
Band of Bachelors: Jake2: Book 4 (SEAL Brotherhood) Page 12

by Sharon Hamilton


  He was grateful his brother had found his father at last, that he had a new purpose in life, and was sure the best was yet to come for him.

  He regretted his father had never taken care of himself and would be missing the growing grandkids and all the new family history that would be created in the coming years. He regretted not being able to tell his dad he loved him more often. He couldn’t even remember a time when he had said it, recently.

  He was grateful his mom could now devote herself to her grandkids and the rest of her family. He wondered, should he not make it out of this prison, who would finish his father’s wishes as executor but dismissed it as probably something his mother could do by default. And she’d do a great job of it.

  Jake was grateful for his Team, and the guys who had sacrificed, kept him safe and those he had saved, both innocents and Team Guys. It was a job he wished most men could have the chance to perform. He was the lucky one doing all the things he’d done. He got to be a force for good, not evil, in the world.

  He would need his strength and so willed himself to sleep, rolling down on his side and letting the tiny fleas have their way with him. He just pretended it was some exotic form of skin treatment, willing his body not to react, like he did with the adjustment to his heart rate. He remembered the rebreathing exercises he’d done in BUD/S, how some of the guys had a hard time with the disorientation exercises they’d done under water. But for him, he just held his breath, and calmly conducted his tasks with time to spare, pushing up to the surface with smooth grace, loving the knowledge that he’d passed on his first try.

  That was going to be how he’d survive this ordeal, just the same way. He’d remain calm. He’d listen and watch for opportunity. He’d look for a tool, a weapon, something to either defend himself or protect himself with. He needed to read every situation in the building and just like in BUD/S try not to stand out, grand stand or express frustration or emotions that could tax him or make him slip. He was going to survive. He was made to do the impossible, the things that other people couldn’t do. He was special, but not better. He was a super strong killing machine who loved with great passion. He would lie here and experience himself getting stronger mentally and physically and wouldn’t give up. No matter what they threw at him, he would not give up.

  That was what he was all about.

  JAKE WOKE UP with a start. Someone in the next cell was being dragged down the hall and the man was either dead or unconscious. The heavy iron bars rang with finality as they were shut behind the lifeless body and the lock reapplied.

  He also was careful to take even, deep breaths, which renewed him with the flush of new oxygen carried throughout his body. He flexed and unflexed his leg muscles, to the point of making his lower legs cramp, and then let them relax afterwards, and wait until the cramping stopped. He flexed and unflexed his arms, fingers, rolled his neck and shoulders, moved slowly to a sitting position with his legs crossed, doing the power breathing exercise they’d all been taught. He held a forefinger against his right nostril and inhaled and exhaled, then did the same with his left. He tried to bring as much calm, cleansing spirit into his body as he could.

  He saw Ginger holding out her arms to him, and experienced his longing for her, causing his eyes to water. He let them stream tears, and knew that if he was experiencing emotions, then he wasn’t dead, or even close to dead.

  Again, this was another survival technique. All emotion could be controlled through breathing. It was not something to dread, but a proof of life. Controlling it stopped the destructive negative cycle of despair and turned his body into a vessel of bliss.

  JAKE DISCOVERED HE was able to sleep in the lotus position when he awoke and was still sitting erect with a slight bob of his head. A door had been opened at the end of the hallway and light flooded into all the cells. Some dirty forms cowered and covered their faces from the brightness. He made his eyelids into slits and viewed the light sparingly so as not to damage his eyes, and realized he might have to do this for several days, perhaps longer.

  Through the slits he examined his cellmates. The man who had been coughing all night long was now in a deep raspy sleep, curled up to a stone wall, shirtless and with wild hair that appeared not to have been combed in weeks. Part of the sides were matted with early formations of dreadlocks.

  The other man didn’t have the darker complexion of their other cellmate. His skin was fair. His belly flabby. He was leaning against the wall, one leg out in front of him, and the other bent at the knee. He had been wearing a white long sleeved button-down shirt when he’d come into the cage, but he’d rolled the sleeves up to the elbow. One arm was draped over his knee. Jake saw the outline of something familiar.

  The man had an anchor tat on his left forearm midway between his wrist and the inner arm joint.

  The man was former or currently in the Navy.

  With renewed interest, Jake adjusted his arms and legs and tried to see the man’s face.

  Well, he’d asked for a miracle, and one had just been shown him. He’d created it with his own mind. The man who was his cellmate was none other than the man they were supposed to bring back with them: Wade Fuckin’ Seacord.

  Chapter 19

  KYLE WAS PACING back and forth on the living room carpet. The calm beauty of the ocean view belied the danger present all around them. He had two goals for today. First, he needed to sit in on the appointment Jake had with his Navy-appointed attorney. Second, he needed to find out what kind of a man General Cortez really was.

  There was only one way that would work before they had to exhaust the “nuclear option” which might entail he’d be giving up his career as a SEAL team leader. Could also mean he might have to spend some time in a military prison, stripped of his pension and separated from his family.

  Nothing was worth that amount of pain to himself or his family—especially his family. But the other part of what made Kyle the leader guys would die for was that he wasn’t going to let a man be left behind. He’d played several scenarios over and over again and although he didn’t have all the facts, he was confident just somehow they’d get it done and get it done right.

  “Lannie, you’re wearing a hole in the carpet. Would you quit it please?” Cooper said as he dropped his shoulders in frustration. He waved at the little enclave of SEALs trying to look busy examining gardening magazines and wedding books that had been left in neat piles under the coffee table for guests. “You’re making us all nervous. So just quit it.”

  Kyle gave him the finger and continued pacing. Then they heard the sound of a Jeep pulling up to the front door.

  “He came alone, Lannie.” Danny’s voice echoed down the stairwell.

  “I’ll be fuckin’ fucked,” whispered Kyle. Armando and Fredo frowned at each other and then shrugged in unison.

  He waited for the knock on the door so he didn’t appear too anxious. He opened it to find the General in civilian clothes. Rather nice civilian clothes, and once again, Kyle was surprised. He was about to piss his pants he was so excited.

  “Welcome, General. Thanks for coming this morning.”

  Fredo stepped up beside Kyle and translated for the General, who then nodded, and spoke back to Fredo.

  “He says this is his day off and that this is an unofficial visit, not part of his regular duties.”

  This time Kyle nodded. “Bueno.” His attempt at Spanish brought the General’s hand to his face and he removed his sunglasses. Kyle saw an angry squint there and figured he didn’t like his language being made fun of.

  “Excuse me, General. I meant no disrespect. I shall endeavor to learn Spanish. It’s really something I should have done years ago. No excuses, and once again, pardon me.”

  He waited for Fredo to translate.

  “Si, si, si.” General Cortez said as he swat the air like it was filled with flies.

  Kyle pointed to the couch and the General took a seat.

  “It has come to my attention that perhaps we have another
way of solving our mutual problem.”

  The man looked confused. “Problemo?”

  “Opportunity, let’s say. It just so happens that my government is willing to pay you a reward for the return of this rogue Navy SEAL who killed one of your women.”

  The General corrected Kyle’s interpretation that the woman killed was his woman. “I have a wife and three daughters, thank you. This is not my woman. I only have one.” Fredo said.

  “Me too.” Kyle rubbed his hands together. His forearms were balanced on his knees. “The point of all this is that we are prepared to offer you a reward for the return of this SEAL. You will be doing us a favor, and in return, we wish to do you a favor. Perhaps it’s something you would share with your colleagues, or, perhaps,” Kyle angled his face and dropped his voice, “You could use the reward to do good things for your town, and your family.”

  General Cortez crossed his legs but not his arms. Kyle read that as he was interested. Without smiling, he held his fingers up and rubbed them together. “How much?”

  “We are prepared to offer you fifty thousand dollars, in cash.”

  General Cortez took his classes from his shirt pocket and reapplied them to his face, stood and extended his hand.

  “No, senior.”

  Kyle also stood. “Wait a minute, what amount would you think would be just compensation for such a wonderful job you have done apprehending our citizen. Bear in mind the good people of Puerto Cortes wouldn’t have to bear the costs of a lengthy trial and court case. And, God forbid, what would happen if the SEAL were found not guilty?”

  The General looked from Fredo back to Kyle. He held his fingers up again.

  “Cuanto cuesta?”

  “You tell me. Surely only you know about all your expenses. Perhaps this could help compensate for all the cases you worked long hours on for no compensation? And because of your diligence to do the right thing, perhaps you have to hire private security to make sure your wife and daughters are adequately protected?”

  The General held up his palm, spread his fingers and spoke to Fredo, who translated, “Five million pesos.”

  Kyle was taken aback. They weren’t even in the ballpark. Suddenly his hopes had been dashed. He shook his head, no. He was very sad and showed it on his face, made sure the General could see how painful it was for him to reject his offer.

  Cortez scanned the faces of the SEALs sitting around him. He spoke again to Fredo.

  “I am not an unreasonable man. Living here can be very difficult, especially when one has daughters and no sons. Perhaps one of your SEALs could marry my daughter?”

  Kyle sat up when Fredo said this. “No, no, no. We’re going in the wrong direction. These men here? They are all married. They all have children.”

  “He says you can choose the SEAL who marries his daughter.”

  Kyle stood and resumed his pacing again. “Jesus Christ, where does this guy get off asking for me to hook up one of his daughters with one of our members. Can you imagine what kind of a father-in-law he’d make?”

  Armando rolled his eyes. “Details, details. You don’t think we could find one bachelor SEAL who might be willing to take that trip down the aisle for the Team?”

  Coop began to laugh. He was holding his gut. “I’d say you got yourself one hell of a problem Kyle. Ask him if that lowers the price some. It also means they’d be first in line for immigration.”

  “I know what the fuck it means. I’m just trying to figure out if it’s worth my career to find some poor asshole who would like to marry into this family. Get my drift?”

  “Oh I do, indeed I do.”

  The General interrupted and held his hands out to the side, asking what the discussion was about. Fredo spoke to him and the man grinned and sat back down, smiling.

  Everyone looked at Fredo. He raised one shoulder up and then smirked. “I told him you were looking for the best candidate, and that you said yes, if the price was right.”

  “Holy shit, you did NOT say that to him, Fredo?”

  “Oh I did. I very much did.”

  “How the hell am I going to deliver that?”

  “Let me see if I can work this out.” Fredo spoke to the General again and after a little back and forth both men shook hands. “So it’s all settled then. You will deliver a SEAL who will wed his oldest unmarried daughter sometime this year.”

  “This year?”

  “Yes. And in exchange you will bring him four million pesos in US currency, which is a little over two hundred twenty thousand dollars, and he will exchange this for the bad SEAL man.” Fredo crossed his arms and sat defiantly, taking turns staring back into the eyes of his SEAL buddies. “I dare you to do better. It’s done and he accepts, and it’s less than what Adele offered, so she’ll be pleased.”

  “We didn’t offer citizenship, did we? Because that’s against the law to sell that, Fredo,” said Coop.

  “No, no promises of citizenship. But I explained that of course she would have to live with her new husband in San Diego.”

  Kyle saw no option but to agree. He extended his hand, nodding. “Tell him day after tomorrow. And I want Jake moved to a private cell if he’s in a communal one.”

  After Fredo’s translation, he delivered the General’s message. “He says he will put Jake up in his finest cell, the one that was built for the Governor of Baja when he went to jail on corruption charges. It has internet and cable TV, and a bed, no extra charge.”

  IT WAS ARRANGED Kyle would meet with Jake and his attorney this morning, so he and Fredo drove the van behind the General’s Jeep and was waved through the security gate without delay.

  Cortez gave them a tour of the facility, which reeked of all things horrible. The special suite created for the Governor of Baja looked a little better than a cheap motel room, but he knew it would be much safer than wherever he was housed now.

  He and Fredo were shown an interview room where Jake would be brought. The Mexican attorney they’d hired was already present.

  “I’m so sorry about all this,” the nice-looking attorney said as they shook hands.

  “I think we have just managed to secure Jake’s release.”

  “On bond? They don’t do bond here. If you pay, you are out the money.”

  “No, I think we were able to negotiate something, to compensate him for all the trouble this event has caused.”

  “Oh. Well, very good. So perhaps I won’t have to mount a legal defense. I wasn’t looking forward to it, because you never know what to expect. But I’m glad for your boy.”

  Jake walked through the door. Part of his face was swollen, but the smile on his lips was genuine and heartfelt.

  “God, did they beat you?”

  “Nope. Fleas. They have some fleas in there that don’t just bite, they take chunks out of your flesh,” said Jake. “But I’m good now. I understand I’m to be transported to the Presidential Suite?”

  “Don’t hold your breath, Jake. But yes, I think we worked everything out.”

  “Awesome. So when do I leave?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  Jake grinned and leaned on the interview table. “Well I want you to know that I fuckin’ lucked out.”

  Fredo scrunched up his face. “You don’t look very lucky to me, my man.”

  “You had to pay for my release, right? I mean you got some money from the government?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Well, ask them for a little bit more. Guess who my cellmate was?”

  Kyle knew Jake must either have really good news, or was delusional. “Who?”

  “Wade Seacord.”

  “No shit.”

  “I’m telling you. He wants out real bad. Thinks I can score a deal so he can come home with me. How about that?”

  “Holy fuck. I can’t believe it.”

  Fredo was laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Kyle.

  “This is gonna cost you another million pesos.”

  Jake�
��s eyes popped out of his head. You spent a million dollars on me? Where did you get that kind of cash?”

  “Pesos, that’s about fifty-five thousand dollars,” said Fredo.

  “Oh. Well, then.”

  Kyle didn’t want to tell him about the rest of the deal. But he gave him some basics. “Day after tomorrow we fly in a private plane which brings the cash. We load everyone up, all our equipment and such, and we take off. The General has agreed to give us permission to land, so we ought to be out of here in about fifteen minutes after we see that plane. That work for you, sport?”

  “So what to we do about Seacord?”

  “What’s he in here for?” asked the attorney.

  “He didn’t pay a prostitute. He thought the gal just liked him.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  THE SECOND NEGOTIATION was conducted in another interview room. General Cortez was in a very good mood, and Kyle was hoping he’d just give them a two-fer, but he had no such luck.

  “Another American? This man is a SEAL as well?”

  “No, just a former Navy guy. We can’t let him rot here,” Kyle said to Fredo for the translation.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps you could come back in thirty days or so, and I will think about this. I haven’t researched the crimes he has committed.”

  Kyle tried to reason on humanitarian grounds. “He doesn’t belong here. It was a minor offense. The offense of being stupid. He didn’t recognize her as a professional. We just don’t want to let a Navy guy get left behind. Can’t you think of something you want we could give you?”

  The General’s face lit up. The twinkle in his eyes told Kyle it was going to be something outrageous, and it was.

  “I have this picture here of the car I would like to get. It is for sale in Los Angeles.” He pulled out a magazine ad, unfolded it and pushed it across the table to Kyle. There in the center of the page was a brand new, shiny Tesla, the one with all the bells and whistles on it. “This is what I want. I want it registered in my name. I want it delivered to the San Diego airport parking structure where I will fly in and pick it up and take the lovely drive home.”

 

‹ Prev