“You know it will, Mom. And you know you can come stay with us whenever you like. We have extra bedrooms.”
“I want to spend some time with Brett first. I haven’t really been able to since he got out of the hospital. I hope he doesn’t feel as though I didn’t want to be here for him.” A worried frown creased Clara’s brow.
“Of course he doesn’t, Mom. He knows Sharon needed you more urgently than he did. And Hawk and I were here for him. All you could have done was sit by his bedside, like I did, and wait for him to wake up.”
“Has Derrick Armstrong confessed why he tried to kill Brett?”
“Derrick’s denying he ever tried to hurt him.”
“But he admitted it in front of you, Brett and Marjorie.”
“He’s backpedaling on it now.” And the statement he’d murmured while holding a gun to Brett’s head had been too ambiguous to prove. Damn him. “I haven’t seen Marjorie since he attacked her. I think she’s gone back to live closer to her parents.”
“But she’ll return for the trial?”
“I don’t know, Mom. I’m sure she’ll have to testify. She’s the one Derrick was after that day. I think he’d have killed her. He’s unbalanced.”
“Every time I think of Derrick leaving Brett in that building unconscious, and of Hawk going in and rescuing him—” She reached for Zoe’s hand. “Had Hawk been any less the man than he is … ” Obviously close to tears, she shook her head.
Zoe gave Clara’s hand a squeeze. “But Hawk is who he is, and Brett’s fine now. If he can survive getting up in front of two hundred women and talking about what he does, he’s good. He’s been training on his own. And just waiting to be released to return to full duty.”
“If he isn’t able to do that …” Clara began.
Being a SEAL was all he’d ever wanted. He’d move on. But he’d never truly bounce back. Zoe shoved the thoughts away. “As Hawk says, he’s done hard before, and it wouldn’t mean as much if it came easy. His speech glitch is getting better all the time. He’s going to be just fine.”
At the sound of the apartment door opening, she caught back a sigh. She didn’t wish for Brett to be on the hot seat with their mother, but seeing him would set Clara’s mind at ease. Clara rose and Zoe followed. Dressed in his summer whites, Brett wore the uniform as though he’d been born to it. The grim set to his features kicked Zoe’s heart into an anxious gallop. Something had happened.
His eyes homed in on Clara, and a genuine smile flashed across his face. “Mom.” He pulled her in close and gave her a fierce hug.
Clara buried her face in his chest and gave him a squeeze.
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re here, Mom.”
Zoe frowned. What was it she heard in his voice? Stress and what else?
“You’ve done something to your hair,” he said, with a frown.
“Just a few highlights, nothing drastic.” Clara pulled back to look up at him and touch his cheek. “You look good. Strong.”
“My hair’s growing back.” Brett grinned and rubbed his hand over his hair so it bristled up.
“I can see that.” Her brows rose. “Your new assignment?”
“I filled in for a public information officer today. I’m buying him a beer as soon as he’s out of the hospital.”
“That bad huh?”
“I’d rather have my nose hairs pulled out one at a time.”
Zoe laughed. “Makes my eyes water just thinking about it. You said it went all right.”
“Yeah, it did. But it’s not something I’d want to do all the time.”
“Out of two hundred women, did you meet anyone interesting?” Clara asked.
A slow grin worked across his lips. “Yeah. Got her number, too.” He patted his pocket. Let me get out of this monkey suit and we’ll eat. Something smells good, and I’m hungry.” He sauntered into the bedroom and closed the door.
Zoe frowned at his quick escape. Something was definitely wrong.
***
Brett closed the bedroom door. He closed his eyes and for several moments breathed in and out slowly to relax the tension.
As much as he’d looked forward to seeing her, his mother couldn’t have picked a worse time to visit. Shit was going to hit the fan. He could feel it. And he was going to be trapped in the middle of it.
He removed the card Tess Kelly had tucked inside his shirt pocket and studied it. If he could get one member of the press on his side …. But how was he supposed to do that and not divulge any military secrets? As far as the mission went, he was safe. He couldn’t remember shit about it, so that wouldn’t be a problem.
But the investigation into the Iraqi kid would be something Tess Kelly would want to sink her teeth into.
Agents Wright and Scott had blinders on. As far as they were concerned, they’d found their men.
But they weren’t taking into consideration that he wasn’t Derrick Armstrong. He might not remember anything about what had happened that day, but he knew what he was capable of. And killing a defenseless kid wasn’t one of those things. No fucking way.
But how was he supposed to prove it? Why wouldn’t Derrick tell them about the protection detail?
Because if something happened during the transport, it could be Derrick’s motive for trying to kill him.
Shit. If only he could remember.
He set aside the card on the dresser and changed into jeans and a pullover knit shirt. His eyes strayed to the card again. His thoughts went to Tess Kelly. Heart-shaped face. Chestnut red hair just a little deeper hue than his mother’s Her eyes weren’t just brown but a warm—Jesus, what am I doing? He blew out a breath.
If he didn’t have this damn speech thing, he’d have already called her.
If she weren’t a damn reporter, he’d have already called her.
If he had any balls, he’d have already called her.
He’d just be upfront about the speech thing. It was no big deal. She wouldn’t think anything of it. Or would she?
A knock sounded and his head went up. In one stride, he was at the door and jerked it open.
Zoe stood on the other side, a frown on her face. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Hawk’s here, and we’re ready to eat.”
“Good.” He’d fill Hawk in after dinner. See if anything was screwy about the way he and Derrick had acted before the mission.
She reached up and smoothed his hair down. “You didn’t lose her number, did you?”
He smiled. “No.”
“I think you need to give her a call. You haven’t been out since you left for Iraq. Ten months is a long time between dates.”
How long had it been for her before she met Hawk?
“I allowed my leg to keep me from enjoying so many things. If it wasn’t for Hawk, I’d still be in that same stunted place I was back in college.” Her dark blue gaze fastened on his face, her expression earnest. “Don’t blow this little glitch you have out of proportion, Brett. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t even register.”
She was always trying to build him up. Always had his back. He drew her close and gave her hug. “Thanks, Zo.”
He looped an arm around her shoulders as they strolled into the kitchen together.
“Doc has invited us all to dinner tomorrow night, seventeen hundred. All we have to bring is the beer and the girls,” Hawk announced as he took his place at the table. “He’s invited you as his date, Clara. I told him what a cougar you are, but he said he’d take his chances.”
Clara’s eyes grew round, then she laughed. Zoe joined her.
“You boys are something else,” Clara said with a shake of her head. She turned to Brett as he pulled a chair out and sat down. “Why don’t you call the woman you met at the speaking engagement today? I bet she’d love to go.”
A reporter at a SEAL barbeque. The guys would love that. “I was hoping to start out with something a little less—” He searched fo
r the word.
“It isn’t like being thrown in a shark tank. We survived it. She will too,” Zoe said while spooning casserole onto her plate.
“Yeah, but you and Mom are already used to the guys. She’s not.”
“What’s to get used to? It’s a barbecue,” Clara said.
Shit. He’d have to tell them. “I wasn’t thinking of her getting used to us. It’s the other way around. She’s a reporter for a local newspaper.”
He glanced at Hawk to check his reaction and caught a frown.
“It’s not like you guys go around talking about SEAL tactics or secret missions when you’re with your families, Brett,” Clara said.
“As long as she comes with the understanding that this is a family barbecue and not an interview opportunity, it should be fine,” Zoe said.
His sister was too damn trusting. She hadn’t seen that avid hunger in Tess Kelly’s eyes. The woman was eager for any kind of scoop. Maybe he could use that to his advantage. But he wouldn’t allow her to use his family or friends.
“I think I’m going to shoot for something a little less rowdy for a first date. I haven’t gotten to hang with the guys much, so I’m going to go solo this time. Maybe I’ll bring her next time.”
The tension at the table relaxed and the conversation turned to Zoe’s interview and news from back in Lexington, Kentucky.
When Zoe and Clara rose to clear the table, Brett used a hand signal to get Hawk’s attention.
“Balcony in two,” he mouthed.
Hawk nodded. “Sure.”
Brett wandered through the living room, opened the sliding glass door, and, leaving it open behind him, went out onto the balcony. In the west, smattering wisps of cumulus clouds drifted across a dark purple sky. Brett braced his elbows atop the railing and looked down into the street below. Clean sidewalks, streetlights, and evening traffic, a welcome sight after the dusty streets in Iraq. He breathed in the fresh breeze that whipped across the platform, and he detected a hint of the ocean. He’d never gotten used to the smell of raw sewage fouling the streets in the towns they’d cleared of terrorists.
Hawk wandered out to stand beside him, a beer in each hand. “It looked as though you could use this.” He offered one of the bottles.
“Thanks.” Brett accepted the moisture-glazed container and rolled it between his hands. “I had a visit from a couple of NCIS agents today at the base. In fact, they sent a detail to drive me back to Jackson’s office for questioning.”
Hawk’s expression sharpened, his gray eyes intent. “Why?”
“Do you remember Derrick and me going on a protection detail before our mission?”
“Yeah. Headquarters needed a couple of SEALs to impress some Iraqi liaison. You guys drew the short straw and had to deliver his kid home. You were only gone a couple of hours.”
Brett straightened and set the beer on the plastic table. “I need you to remember everything you can about when we left, how long we were gone, and what time we got back. If you saw us when we returned. Anything about that detail.”
“It would all be in the report.” Hawk’s black brows clashed. “Ah shit! You were injured and weren’t able to file a report.”
“Would Derrick have done one?”
“He may have after the mission. He should have. We couldn’t take a dump without filing one. What’s going on, Cutter?”
“The kid we escorted home disappeared after we dropped him off. NCIS is circling me and Derrick. They’re looking for an excuse to hold us responsible. I think someone high up is trying to find a scapegoat instead of the truth, and because of Derrick’s current status, they’ve found an easy answer.”
“You’d have had cover front and back, Cutter. You wouldn’t have traveled alone.”
“They’re dead. All of them.”
“Jesus—” Shock streaked across Hawk’s features, then his expression blanked.
“My ass is hanging out there with this, Hawk. I can’t remember shit about that week.” Brett shoved both hands through his hair. “They think we did something to the kid.”
“No way.” Hawk shook his head. “Derrick maybe, if he’d been alone. Toward the end of the tour he was strung out. But you were still rock solid. You wouldn’t have stood by while he hurt the kid, and you wouldn’t have laid a hand on him yourself. I’d stake my career on it.”
Brett drew a deep breath. Having Hawk back him up beat some of the edges off his worry. “Thanks for saying that.” But Hawk’s beliefs weren’t tangible evidence. He drew a deep breath. “Will you pull up Derrick’s report and see what he filed?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” Hawk took a swig of his beer. “When we were investigating who was responsible for your injury, Greenback said you tried to counsel Derrick and Flash just before the mission. He said Derrick was upset about something. You may want to talk to him. See if he remembers anything.”
“Roger that.” Finally, something proactive he could do.
“There’ll be radio transmissions logged. When you dropped the kid, you’d have radioed to let base know he’d been delivered. There’ll be a record somewhere.”
“I hope so. Otherwise—”
“Don’t go there. We’re going to sort it out.” Hawk slapped him on the back.
Despite Hawk’s reassurance, Jackson’s words still taunted him. All of this was tied to Derrick Armstrong’s anger management problems. In Iraq. Here at home. Brett’s gut clenched. And it was going to cost him everything if he couldn’t fucking remember.
CHAPTER 7
Tess Kelly ground her teeth against the angry words and scowled at her editor, Elgin Taylor, from across his cluttered desk. How many times did they have to have this argument?
The thin walls did nothing to block the telephone ringing somewhere down the hall. The smell of burnt coffee intruded from the kitchenette just off the main office. Though his office looked out onto what had once been the bullpen of the paper, very few people stirred there. Reporters today could work from anywhere and submit the story with one click of their mouse.
“Your lifestyles article was good, Tess. Why can’t you be satisfied with a brush now and then with politicians, military personnel and their wives? Why do you want to be in the thick of things?”
Because that’s where all the good stories are. Because my father wouldn’t be standing on the sidelines.
Shifting her weight, she drew in a deep breath and folded her arms against her waist. “I’ve been doing the stories you assign me for more than a year, Mr. Taylor. When you hired me, you promised you’d give me the opportunity to stretch my wings as a reporter. The events I usually cover are not what I would call an opportunity.”
“You’re offering our readers something they want to read, whether you’re interested in it or not. We have to pander to our readership in order to survive. Do you know how many traditional papers are going down? We’re all having to go to this ePub bullshit to keep the doors open.”
“The ePub model is allowing you to reach a wider audience while saving resources and money, sir. More people can subscribe and read our paper without the cost of printing or distribution. It’s the same paper, just a different delivery format.”
“Maybe I should transfer you to the marketing department since you understand it so well,” he said, his tone sour.
God forbid. “What will bring in a wider readership, sir, are hard-hitting stories that play on current interests. We’re sitting in an area rich with story opportunities. Going at them from a sharper angle will garner wider attention. I don’t have to tell you that.”
Taylor sat up, resting his elbows on his desk. His thick gray hair, more salt than pepper, gleamed beneath the florescent lights. “Sharper angles, huh? Any time you start talking sharper angles, I have to call the legal department and vet something to make sure we don’t get sued.”
“I’ll always have three dependable sources before I write the story, Mr. Taylor.”
He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. �
��I know.” Then he scrubbed his face irritably. “The problem is that, for every story we find, there are five people jumping on it, and it’s blasted across the television news, blogs, and cell phones before we can even get it into print. It isn’t the quality of your work, Tess.” His gaze raked her face. “You’d be better off trying to join some local news program and getting your face on camera. You’re pretty, young, and sharp. You’d probably make it to the top in nothing flat.”
“I don’t want my face on television. I’m a writer, not a public speaker.” She drew a deep breath. “Most stories are written in a hit, then move on, format. The human element is totally missed. I want to delve more deeply into issues, not just skim the surface. Most of the stories we cover are about people. Why can’t we concentrate on bringing the human-interest angle to the forefront instead of the issues? Once your readers identify with the people involved, they’ll want to read more.”
His brows rose, speculation in his gaze. “What do you have in mind?”
Tess’s cell phone rang. She jerked it from her pocket and glanced at the ID. The number seemed vaguely familiar. She pressed the on button. “Hello.”
“This is Brett Weaver.”
An instant rush of adrenaline surged through her system. Heat rose to her face, and her heart raced. “Yes. What can I do for you?”
“Will you join me for lunch at the Sheerwater today?”
Aware of Taylor listening to her end of the conversation, she hesitated. “Is there some specific reason you’re asking me to lunch?”
“Besides the fact that you’re beautiful, and have gorgeous legs?” His husky male tone shot sex appeal across the line.
She bit her lip to hide the instant response that triggered a flush to her skin and dampness between her legs. How could he do that with just his voice?
“There will be a story in it for you.”
Was he just playing her? Or was he serious? SEALs had a reputation for being players. But he was asking to meet in a public place. A very beautiful public place. A hotel.
Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 6
