Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Mitzi Pool Bridges
Wounded at Work
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
She stepped closer.
“You’ve wanted to kiss me all night. Get it over with so you can sleep tonight.”
Then her lips were on his and he couldn’t think. He pulled her closer, as he deepened the kiss she meant to be playful. His mind scattered and he could think of nothing except the soft feel of Carrie’s body against his. The way she fit in his arms. The kiss he never wanted to stop.
When they came up for air, he looked into her eyes and saw the surprise. His had to reflect the same. “I think I’ve just been hit by a sledgehammer.”
“Wherever that came from, put it back in the bottle.” And she ran out the door.
Matt wanted to run after her, kiss her again and again.
He heard her car start—heard tires spin as she headed home.
“Be careful, Carrie. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
He shut the door.
Could he forget what had just happened?
As he made his way to his lonely bedroom, he knew he couldn’t.
Praise for Mitzi Pool Bridges
“Bridges’ plot is tight and well-constructed, and her characters are marvelous, as is the Belgian Malinois who saves Lori’s life and captures her heart at the same time. I particularly enjoyed reading about the methods these ex-SEAL brothers used for training their dogs for military service. WOUNDED AT THE LAKE is an impressive and satisfying read that keeps the reader on edge and wanting more. It is highly recommended.”
~Jack Magnus for Readers Favorite (5 Stars)
~*~
“I had a terrible time trying to set WOUNDED AT THE LAKE down. I could not wait to see what thrilling ride I was going to encounter on the next page. Every turn led to another twist with a bit more mystery.”
~Crystal from Reviews by Crystal (5 Stars)
Wounded at Work
by
Mitzi Pool Bridges
The Wounded SEAL Trilogy
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Wounded at Work
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Mitzi Pool Bridges
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Kim Mendoza
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Crimson Rose Edition, 2016
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0886-9
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0887-6
The Wounded SEAL Trilogy
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
God Bless Our Troops
Tyler, stay safe.
We love you.
Acknowledgments
A big thanks to all who made these books possible.
You are many.
A big thank you to my critique group, Ann, Ashley, Dee, and Diana. Over the years, you have pulled me out of the writing dumps and kept me going. Your insight has been invaluable.
I can’t thank my two editors at TWRP enough. Laura Kelly saw me through The Callahan Series, two books for the Lobster Cove series, and Find My Baby. ELF has taken me through The Wounded SEAL Trilogy with her insightful edits.
Others have given me bits of needed information, and I thank each and every one of you.
What I would do without the Internet, I don’t know. How did writers get their info without it?
I want to thank my readers. It has been your kind words and five-star ratings that encouraged me to continue on this journey.
Most of all, I want to thank my sweet husband, Charley. His encouragement meant everything to me. I miss you, dear one. But I still hear your voice telling me how much you liked my writing, to keep going…make every minute count. So I listen.
Finally, I’m going to take a break and rest for a while.
Maybe there is another book in my future, maybe not.
Happy reading.
Mitzi
Chapter One
The explosion threw him out of the Humvee and onto the rocky roadside. For a full minute he was too stunned to move. Fire and smoke surrounded him and the other SEALs on the ground. When he could hear again, there were moans and curses along with the constant rat-tat-tat of AK-47’s.
Where were his brothers? Coop! Dirk! Too much smoke kept them from his line of vision. His heart hammered faster than the bullets aimed at their position. Where the hell were they?
His call brought no answer.
Painfully, he pulled himself up. Find them. Now.
They couldn’t be dead. The moment their feet hit the ground in Afghanistan, the three brothers vowed to protect one another, just as they had as kids. So far they had kept that vow.
If he was the only one left, he didn’t want to live. His stomach filled with acid-fire, he grabbed two AK-47’s and headed to the other side of the smoking truck.
Then he heard them. They were trapped.
Blood turned to ice—his heartbeat slowed.
In slow motion, he ran in their direction, each hand firing a weapon. They would not die. The faster he ran, the further away their voices sounded. Through the smoke and stench of gunfire, he saw them. Making one last effort, he lunged in their direction, only to find they had disappeared.
Matthew Montgomery sat up in bed, his body drenched in sweat, his hands shaking, his Tarzan yell clogged in his throat.
“Jeez!” He shook his head, tried to shake the nightmare away. It had been years since the last one. Why now?
Matt staggered to the bathroom. What had brought this on? He’d had his PTSD under control so long he had almost forgotten how he’d suffered after the battle that cost Dirk half an arm and almost cost Coop a leg.
A glance at the clock told him it was five o’clock. Still dark out. He splashed cold water on his face, looked in the mirror. His eyes looked haunted, the same as they had so long ago.
He couldn’t go through that torment again. Wouldn’t, he vowed, as he stepped into the shower and under the spray of hot water for so long his skin felt like it was on fire, before he switched to cold.
When he stepped out, he felt better. Calmer.
The doorbell chimed.
He looked at his watch. Five-thirty. Quickly, he pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
Had something happened at the homestead? With Dirk or Sky? Had she gone into premature labor? Dirk would have called or texted if that were the case.
The monitor on the state-of-the-art security panel showed a man in uniform at the door. Matt looked closer. Constable Ben Brown. Why would Ben be here at this hour of the morning? Something was going on and Matt’s gut told him he wasn’t going to like it.
By the time he ran downstairs and to the door, his heart was in his throat.
“What’s going on, Ben?”
“Sorry to get you up so early, Matt. I have a summons that needs your signature.”
“Do you know what it’s about?”
“Not a clue.” He stuck the paperwork out for a signature.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Afraid not. Sorry.”
Matt signed the papers and scanned the envelope before closing the door on Ben’s apologies. Matt had been involved in hundreds of cases with the FBI, but a grievance of that nature would go to the office.
Throwing the envelope on the table, he started a pot of coffee. Maybe that would shake off the aftermath of his nightmare.
A mug of coffee in hand, he sat at the table and stared at the envelope. Only one way to find out what this was about. He ripped it open.
“Reed is out of his mind.” The more he read, the more confused and angry he became. This was a ruse for his cousin to get his hands on half the Montgomery Trust. Was Reed grasping at straws? Matt always suspected his cousin thought he was entitled to the money. Which was probably one of the reasons he came around so often for a handout. Or had he found evidence he was entitled? Not possible. The Trust was ironclad.
Matt’s great-great-grandfather had set up the Trust as a philanthropic entity that gave millions every year to worthy charities. The responsibility for its safekeeping had been handed over to Matt when he got back from the war. It was his biggest and most serious obligation. Now the Trust was being challenged. Not by strangers, but by another Montgomery. Though Matt could access the Trust at any time, it never occurred to him to use even a penny for himself. Now his cousin was claiming half. He had no right.
Matt gripped the sheaf of legal documents with clenched fists. He could and would deal with this.
Running upstairs, he printed out three copies, put two copies and the original in his pocket, another copy in the safe. Then he got dressed. By now Coop and Dirk were at the training area working with dogs that would end up on a battlefield. Matt wanted to talk to his brothers. After his nightmare, seeing their faces would assure him they were all right. And he wanted to share what could be a monstrous disaster in the making.
The sky was clear with the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon when he walked outside. Since it was mid-summer, it would be hot soon enough. He scanned the area. Calm. Serene. The opposite of what was going on in his gut. If Reed succeeded in his claim, millions of dollars would be withheld from dozens of worthy charities. Scientists searching for cures for killing diseases would have to look elsewhere for financing—hospitals would be forced to stop research programs. The list went on. He, with the help of the board, scrutinized and personally looked into every charity on their donor list. It was a long one, but one each and every one on the board hoped would do the most good.
Now it was all in jeopardy.
Even though it was hazy outside and not yet daylight, his gaze swept over the empty fields; dry now in the summer heat. Here was the one place he could relax, forget for a short time the heavy responsibility the Trust put on him—here he was surrounded by a loving family.
At the heart of the family was Shorty. She wasn’t his biological mom, but she was his mom nonetheless. She solidified that relationship when the brothers returned from Afghanistan and she handed each of her boys, as she called them, a deed for fifty acres. Matt had been relieved. He would never live on the estate his parents left him, and had no idea where else to go.
Being close to the family that had all but adopted him was perfect. Plus, it was close enough to Houston and all a big city offered, but still far enough away to enjoy the open space. There was nothing like the sea of bluebonnets in his backyard every spring. He wouldn’t trade this spot for any amount of money. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he did his best to dispel the anger simmering over Reed’s greedy demand for money.
He went to his SUV and drove the short distance to the training field. For a moment, he watched his brothers put their soon-to-be military dogs through their paces. Coop’s wife, Lanie, was exercising Thor; another dog was waiting his turn.
While in Afghanistan, the three brothers had seen how valuable the trained dogs were to the military. Matt had listened for hours as Coop and Dirk planned how they would get involved when they got back to the States.
Though he encouraged his brothers in their endeavor, with his Trust responsibilities, he didn’t have time to be tied down with their new venture. He had offered to fund them financially, only to be turned down. They had done it on their own and Matt was proud of them.
His brother Dirk had wanted to site the training facilities on his fifty acres. It was a good choice. There was an open field where the dogs were trained, a fenced-in area to the side for the dogs’ exercise, and a small bungalow to the right where the handler stayed while learning the signals before taking his dog back to base.
Every few weeks, Matt took a dog to the field and went through the signals. He wanted to be able to help out in a pinch. And had.
Coop saw Matt and signaled Dirk. They stopped training and, with long and purposeful strides, headed toward him.
Coop put the dogs in their pens and hurried to Matt’s side. “Is something wrong?”
Matt thrust a copy of the summons into each brother’s hand.
They moved beneath one of the outside lights to see better. Coop spoke up. “Is Reed crazy? You know this isn’t true, and so does he. It’s a scam to get your money.”
Dirk’s mouth twisted in anger. “Your cousin has been jealous of you all his life. This is his way to get millions, if not billions, from the Trust and claim it as his own.”
They were voicing Matt’s own thoughts. “He wouldn’t go this far without some kind of proof. They wouldn’t send out a subpoena on a whim, which means he has something.”
“Do you have any idea what it could be?”
Matt ran a hand over his face. “Not a clue.”
“Just because there are only two Montgomerys left doesn’t mean he should get what your great-great-grandfather handed down, which is now entrusted to you. You know as well as anyone how fast Reed would blow through the money. The charities the trust donates to would suffer the loss.”
“I know that, Coop, but what if he has a legitimate claim?”
His brothers looked at him as if he was crazy. Coop slammed a hand onto the papers. “I guess you’re ready to hand your lazy, good-for-nothing cousin half of your Trust based on what’s written on a piece of paper?”
“I will if it’s true.”
“You’re nuts. What happened to your sense of right and wrong?
“If his allegations are true, he deserves half,” Matt said stubbornly.
Coop put his hands on his hips. “Then prove him wrong.”
“Even though I don’t know where to start, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
Coop folded the papers and put them in his pocket. “You’re upset. When you calm down, you’ll be able to think more clearly. In the meantime, Dirk and I will do what we can.”
“Your hands are full with your PI work and the dogs. Between myself and the Trust attorney, we’ll handle it.”
“Do you mean old Emery Flannery? He’s too decrepit to do anything other than look at these papers and do his tut-tut routine.”
Matt wanted to laugh at D
irk’s all-too-accurate description of the attorney who had handled the Trust since Matt’s grandfather put it in his hands. Under the circumstances, Matt couldn’t muster so much as a chuckle.
“You have a point. I’ll talk to Flannery. The Trust can hire your PI firm to look into this.”
Though there were millions the Trust could access at a moment’s notice, getting to the stocks, bonds, and real estate would take longer. What was his cousin thinking? Over the years, his brothers had refused to take a penny from Matt, even when they were in a pinch. And though the Trust put a million dollars in a personal account in Matt’s name every year, he rarely touched it, not like his dad who took his yearly stipend, and played his life away. Mostly, Matt’s money went to Reed when he came begging. Matt lived quite comfortably on his FBI salary. The Trust itself was put to better use.
Dirk grabbed one of Matt’s arms, Coop the other. “We’ll look into this whether that old goat Flannery approves or not. We’ll fight you over this if we have to. Several times a year, Reed bursts into your life and demands money. You give in without a fight every time. Not now. We’ll take the case and prove it’s bogus. Dammit, Matt. We owe you more than this. We owe you our lives.”
His nightmare flared briefly. “No, Dirk, you don’t. Let’s do this: you handle the case and I’ll help any and every way I can. How’s that?”
“It sounds like a plan. SEALs never quit! We’ll get to the truth and send Reed packing.”
This time Matt did laugh. “And if Carrie gets in on the act, watch the sparks fly.”
“Carrie would spice the case up, that’s for sure.”
Carrie’s red hair, her mischievous green eyes, and sparkling personality, popped into Matt’s head. “I’m going to work. There are several trunks in the attic I brought over from the estate when it sold. I’ve never looked inside them. Whether there are old clothes, documents, or mementoes, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find something that will either prove or disprove Reed’s claim. If not, we’ll continue our search until we do.”
Coop nodded. “It’s as good a place to start as any. We’ll go to the office this morning, get our work lined up and be back after lunch.”
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