by B. B. Hamel
I grinned to myself and watched her pull away. I was about to head back inside and make some fucking food when I caught sight of a strange envelope tucked under the welcome mat.
My apartment was half a bungalow, and I was lucky enough to have my own entrance. It was set back from the street and surrounded with plants, shit I was pretty sure my landlord took care of, since I clearly wasn’t doing it.
I went out my door and down the steps. I bent over and grabbed the envelope.
On the front was written Captain Emory Rush.
I frowned. Who knew about my job in this area? As far as I knew, nobody knew I was a SEAL. If anyone asked, I told them that I was a traveling salesman, and that was that.
But this had clearly been hand delivered. Whoever put it there knew who I really was and where I lived.
I had a bad feeling as I climbed back up to my apartment. I sat down at the table and tore the envelope open.
There was one glossy photograph inside, black and white, a bit grainy, but I instantly recognized the person.
It was Tara, the girl from the resort in India. She was sitting on a picnic blanket with three other people, two older and another about her age. And she was holding an infant.
My heart skipped a fucking beat. The baby looked young, maybe seven months at most. I screwed up my face and tried to remember if she’d said she had a kid, or if one of her friends was pregnant, or something like that, but we didn’t talk about ourselves much that night.
I flipped the photograph over.
“Fuck,” I said out loud.
Written in Urdu, the language Pakistani people spoke, the language The Network spoke, was a simple message.
Emory, we know who you are and who this baby is. Do you?
I dropped the photograph on the table and stepped away, my mind moving a thousand miles a second.
The implication was obvious. I thought it the second I saw the girl holding that baby. Sixteen months ago, sixteen months after we slept together.
But how the fuck could The Network know about her? I was only with her that one night, and for such a short time.
“Fucking fuck,” I said again. They must have had spies inside that resort. They knew who I was and who my team was; they must have been watching us. They probably followed every person I was with that night, watching and waiting for something they could use against my team and me.
Fuck, this was bad. Worse than bad. But I couldn’t panic, not yet. I took a deep breath, calling on my SEAL training to remain calm in the face of danger. I didn’t know anything for sure yet.
All I had was this photograph. Clearly The Network was watching this girl; that wasn’t the issue. No, the real issue was whether the kid was actually mine or not.
But that shouldn’t matter. The girl’s life was in danger because of me. I couldn’t just hang her out to dry because I wasn’t sure if that baby was mine or not.
No, I wasn’t going to let The Network have this girl. Fuck them for coming onto my turf, fucking with my people. They could come after me all they wanted, and frankly I welcomed that shit, but they weren’t messing with some innocent fucking girl just because they were too cowardly to come at me directly.
I clenched my jaw and resigned myself. I was going to find this girl, and I was going to protect her, at least until I figured out what this was all about.
3
Tara
The day was bright and comfortable as I pushed Mason in his stroller along the paved, black path.
I loved taking Mason out for a walk in the park near my house. There was nothing better than spending some time with him out in the sunlight, getting some fresh air and some exercise. Mason seemed to like it too and rarely ever got fussy when we were out for a walk. In fact, it was the calmest I ever saw him.
It was Friday, and fortunately I had the day off. I worked out my schedule so that I had short days on Mondays and Wednesdays, long days on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and every Friday off to spend the day with Mason. And to give my mom a break from babysitting, of course, though she’d never complain.
As I walked along, pushing Mason, I started to have this strange feeling on the back of my neck. It was almost like I was being watched or something like that. I looked around, but it looked like a normal afternoon at the park: moms out with their young kids, older people going for a walk, basically what you’d expect from suburban Indiana.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was staring at me. It was completely bizarre, because normally I felt so comfortable at the park, but suddenly I was acting paranoid. It was probably just because I hadn’t been home in so long. I wasn’t used to being around the neighborhood.
As I walked, I spotted a friend of mine, Jane. She was a few years older and had a little baby boy around Mason’s age. I waved to her and headed over. She was a little taller than me, with glasses and large, round cheekbones.
“Hey, Tara,” she said as I got closer.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Same as always. Hi, little Mason.”
I smiled at her son, James. “Hi, little guy.”
“Nice day out,” she said to me.
“Yeah. It’s pretty nice, though I feel like someone’s been watching me.” I shrugged and laughed, mocking myself.
She smiled at me. “A little paranoid?”
“I guess so, but I don’t know why.”
“Lots of new faces around here,” she commented. “Maybe you’re just feeling exposed.”
I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Oh, by the way, how is class going?”
“Just started this week. It’s going great. Exhausting, but I’m glad I’m doing it.”
“Awesome. Good for you.” She checked her phone, frowning. “Great. Some emergency at home. Got to head back.”
“Good seeing you. Stop over sometime.”
“Will do.” She waved and headed off, pushing her stroller in front of her.
I watched her go, frowning for a second. What did she mean there were lots of new faces? I looked around but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. It was just the usual people going about their business.
I shook my head, laughing to myself. I was being so stupid. It was the middle of the afternoon on a beautiful Friday; there weren’t any robbers or murderers around. Plus, it wasn’t like I lived in inner city Detroit. There weren’t many muggers in Dayton, Indiana, probably because there wasn’t much to mug for.
I kept on with my walk, finishing along the outer path that skirted the park. There was a small jungle gym that Mason would play on one day when he was older, some soccer fields, a little bathroom and concession stand area that was only open on weekends, and even a small pond toward the end of the trip.
By the time I finished the full loop, I felt tired and calm again. I’d forgotten all about the paranoia and was content to push Mason along, talking to him every once in awhile, but mostly just losing myself in my own thoughts.
As I turned along the path to head out of the park and back toward my parents’ house, I hit a little bump. “Oops,” I said, checking on Mason. “You’re okay, little guy?”
He just smiled up at me. The kid was completely resilient. He only ever cried when he was hungry or needed to be changed. Otherwise, he was the calmest baby I’d ever seen.
I started pushing his stroller again, heading back home. I passed through the gate that closed after sunset every day and walked along the uneven sidewalk, trying to be as careful as I could with Mason.
And then I got that feeling again, like someone was following me. I glanced back and saw someone walking along quickly, gaining on me.
I felt my heart leap in my chest, adrenaline taking over. I started to walk faster, trying to stay ahead of whoever was coming closer to me. I glanced back, but he was grinning at me. I moved quicker, walking fast, pushing Mason faster along the sidewalk. I spotted the house up ahead and risked looking back. He was getting closer and seemed to be waving at me.
I practically started jogging. I didn’t know what the heck I was doing, but for some reason I didn’t want that guy to catch up to me. I was afraid, I realized, absolutely terrified. I started jogging faster, pushing Mason along.
I made it to the driveway and up along it. I fumbled at the door for my key and realized that my parents both were out.
“Excuse me, miss?”
I looked up, terrified. The man had followed me all the way from the park, even though I’d been running from him.
“I don’t have anything,” I blurted out.
He looked at me strangely. “You dropped this.”
In his hand was my wallet.
Relief washed over me. “Oh my gosh, thanks so much. It must have fallen off when I hit that bump.”
“No problem. Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I said, laughing. “I thought you were a mugger or something.”
He smiled at me. “Can’t be too careful.” He was taller than me, broad and handsome. He skin was dark and his dark hair was cropped short. I guessed he was Indian or something like that, though he spoke perfect English. He was a few years older than me and was dressed in really simple khaki pants and a polo shirt.
“Take care,” he said and then turned and walked away.
I watched him go for a second and then unlocked the door, feeling foolish. I didn’t know why I felt so paranoid and strange, or why I would run from a perfect stranger. All the guy wanted to do was return my wallet.
I opened the front door and pushed Mason inside, closing it and locking it behind me. Even though I knew that guy wasn’t chasing me to mug me or something, I couldn’t help but still feel a little uneasy. I was a single mother alone in a big house with just my baby. Anything could happen.
I sighed. “I’m being silly,” I said to Mason as I lifted him from the stroller and walked into the kitchen. “Mommy is paranoid today. I don’t know why.”
He just squirmed and giggled.
I got a glass of water and sat down with him at the kitchen table. I sipped the water, thinking to myself absently about trying to make some new friends at college. That was pretty tough, especially with a baby. I was only a year older than most of the people in my classes, which was no big deal at all.
The phone started ringing suddenly, yanking me back out of my thoughts. I stood up, Mason in one arm, and grabbed it with my free hand.
“Hello?” I answered.
There was silence on the other end.
“Hello?” I said again.
I was about to hang up, but I heard something. It was someone breathing heavily on the other end, like they were running or something like that.
“I can hear you,” I said. “You’re breathing really loudly.”
No response, just more breathing.
That feeling of paranoia was back again, and with a vengeance. I was so thoroughly creeped out that I just hung the phone up, not caring if it was an important call.
“So weird,” I said out loud to Mason. He just squirmed in my arms like always.
I carried him out to the living room and strapped him into his bouncy chair. He rocked back in it while I started to make myself something to eat. I was trying to forget about that creepy call, but it was pretty difficult.
It wasn’t every day you got a call from someone just breathing on the line.
My initial instinct was to think that it was aimed at me, since I was the one who answered. But the call had come into my parent’s landline and not my cell phone, which meant that it could easily have been meant for my mom. People mixed us up on the phone all the time.
I started putting together a sandwich, and by the time I was finished I was starting to feel better. I’d just begun my day in a really weird mood, what with that guy in the park and feeling like I was being watched. The phone call was strange, but it had to just be a coincidence. There was no reason that it actually connected with my paranoia.
As I sat down by Mason to start eating, there was a knock at the door.
I sat totally still. We weren’t expecting any packages or any visitors. There was another knock at the door, a bit more urgent. I stood up slowly, fear in my chest.
Maybe I’d dropped something else in the park. Or maybe that guy was back to murder me and steal Mason.
I shook my head. I was being so stupid. I was a grown-ass woman now, right? I had to stop being afraid of the boogey man.
I walked over toward the front door, and the person knocked again. “Coming,” I called out.
I grabbed the knob. Something inside me told me that I shouldn’t open the door, that I should just walk away.
But I ignored that stupid part of myself, twisted, and pulled the door open.
“Remember me?” he asked, grinning at me.
Those intense blue eyes, that tall, ripped body, that cocky grin. I remembered him. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him for a long, long time.
My ghost, my baby’s father.
Emory stood there grinning at me, and I thought I was going to pass out.
4
Emory
I kicked my feet up on the table and pulled out one of my many secure cell phones. I dialed the only number in the contacts and waited for it to ring. On the third ring, I hung up and waited.
This was the game I had to play in order to contact my superiors when I was blending in with civilians. My work was too important to risk getting caught up in the surveillance that law enforcement agencies were constantly doing, plus the surveillance various terrorist groups likely had me under.
Three minutes later, the phone rang. I waited three rings and then answered.
“Sir,” I said, “I have a problem.”
“Speak fast, soldier. I was playing golf.”
I grinned to myself. I was speaking with my commanding officer, Colonel Ethan Blackfire. He was the head of the anti-terrorism Special Forces unit, namely my SEAL squad.
“I got a package this morning with a single photograph of a woman I had relations with just before entering Pakistan last year. It had a message written on it in Urdu.”
“What did it say?”
“‘We know who you are and who this baby is. Do you?’” I read to him.
“Baby?”
“She’s carrying a baby in the picture, sir.”
“Shit soldier,” he said. “If that means what I think it does, you might be fucked.”
“That thought occurred to me, sir,” I said.
“What’s the request here?”
“I want to protect the girl, sir,” I said. “The Network is clearly behind this.”
There was a short silence. “Fine. Find the girl and protect her, but be fucking subtle about it. I will get back to you with more orders soon.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Good luck, soldier.” He hung the phone up.
I hung mine up and tossed it aside. I hated all this spy shit. I was trained to kick down doors and to kill my enemies in any way necessary, not to sneak around like a fucking asshole. Granted, I could do all that shit, but I much preferred the old-fashioned method of firing my weapon into some terrorist twats.
I sighed and took out another phone. I took a picture of the photograph and uploaded it to a secure cloud server. I waited a minute and then dialed another number.
“Navy Intelligence,” the woman said.
“Hello there, Lucy,” I said.
“Well, if it isn’t Captain Emory. What do you need today? Drone strike?”
“Nope. Something much simpler. I just uploaded a photograph to the server. Can you analyze it and find out who the girl is?”
“We can do that. I’ll call you back.”
“Got it.” I hung the phone up and then stood.
My orders were clear and simple: protect the girl and don’t make a scene. I assumed Blackfire wanted to keep me out of the spotlight, since nobody knew that The Network was operating domestically in the States.
He probably wanted to avoid any panics or
serious incidents. There wasn’t going to be any backup on this one, no local law enforcement or the CIA or some shit like that. No, this was just me, a single, deadly Navy SEAL sent to protect a girl from one of the deadliest terrorist organizations on the planet.
I grinned to myself. It sounded like a good fucking time, just the sort of thing I needed. Sitting around all day and fucking all night was great and all, but I craved something more, some fucking action.
Besides, there was the chance to see that girl again. I didn’t know what I wanted from her, but the memory of that delicious pussy came back to me, sending a thrill down my spine. I’d felt something with that girl that I hadn’t felt before or since, and I was mostly resigned to never feeling it again.
Who knew what I’d feel when I saw her again, but that didn’t matter. I had to focus on my mission, on keeping her safe.
I went to pack, waiting on that phone call.
Tara Bright of Dayton, Indiana. It didn’t take Intelligence very long to figure out who she was. Probably they had some crazy-advanced facial recognition software linked up to every driver’s license database in the whole country or something insane like that. But once I had a name and an address, I knew that I was on my own to do the rest.
I shifted in my seat as the plane descended toward Indianapolis. From there, I’d rent a car and drive straight until I got to Tara’s place.
It was early Friday morning and the airport wasn’t too crowded. The plane landed without any issues, and I grabbed my shit, just a single carry-on bag, and headed toward the rental cars.
Into the airport and down to the rental car place. I waited in the damn line, impatient to get on the road. When I finally got to the front of the line, the woman smiled at me. “Can I help you?”
“I need a car,” I said. “Something cheap and easy. A sedan, preferably.”
She frowned at her screen. “Well, we’re out of sedans in the lower tiers. We do have a few SUVs and trucks?”
“What about the upper tiers?”
“We have a Ford Mustang available.”
