“Thank you, sir.”
“As for the particular boy you’ve been looking for. We did recover some information from Kelly’s room on each of the boys. We’ve made copies of all the stats and pictures. You should be able to identify all of the kids. The one that will hold a special importance in completely clearing Weaver and Armstrong will be included. I hope he’s there. I’ll be sending that information out to you in about an hour.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Morrow rose and Hawk followed suit.
“I know you don’t want to be here. Hell, none of us do. But I’m glad you and your team will be involved in this, Hawk,” Morrow offered his hand.
Hawk shook it. “We’ll do our best.”
Taking his leave of the Captain, Hawk stepped out of the building and breathed in the dry desert air. The sun beat down, hot and relentless. Sweat pooled in his armpits and ran down his sides before he’d made it halfway across the compound.
It would be about two a.m. at home and Zoe would be sound asleep. She’d be soft and warm, and if he were there, he’d be spooning her while they slept.
He brushed his hand over his forehead and wiped the sweat onto the leg of his cammies. He had to get his head in the game. He had to put Zoe out of his mind. His men needed him focused. She needed him focused. He’d promised her he’d do whatever it took to come home. And he intended to live up to that promise. Being prepared was part of that.
He reached the two-story cinderblock dormitory where his men were being housed, and, giving a nod to the men on guard outside, entered. The meeting room they’d agreed on was on the first floor and he walked down the long hallway to what was supposed to be a rec room, but only contained a television and gaming system. He shoved open the door.
“Rock a bye baby. On the tree top,” fifteen men’s voices blended in an off-key rendition of the lullaby while they swung their folded arms like they held babies. He stood in the doorway transfixed. His gaze jerked to Langley Marks’s face as he grinned at him and grasping his hand, pumped it up and down as though he were drawing water.
“Congratulations, Hawk. Trish told me just before we left.”
“Trish told you?”
“Yeah, she said Zoe’d been trying to tell you for weeks, but then we had the three weeks at Billy Machen and then everything went to hell for Brett.”
There’s something I need to tell you. Those words looped through his head. And then the phone had rung and he was out the door. Oh Jesus!
“Zoe’s pregnant.” He said the words out loud. Shock spiraled through him, his heart started racing and his breathing grew labored. Jesus, he’d left her there at the house unprotected, and she was carrying their child.
“Yeah, man. You’re going to be a dad.”
***
Outside of Evan’s hospital room, Russell braced an arm against the wall and leaned in close to Clara so their conversation would not be overheard. The faint scent of her shampoo registered dully beneath the smell of antiseptic and some industrial cleaner.
“Evan’s too weak to survive surgery or chemo,” he said, repeating what the oncologist had told him. “Dr. Reynolds shared Evan’s scans and lab work with me. I looked over his complete chart. Reynolds is right.”
Clara ran her fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her face. A single tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it off. Worry and exhaustion had deepened the lines around her mouth and eyes. In the forty-eight hours that had passed since Evan had been admitted, they’d left his side only minutes at a time.
“Did he know about the cancer before he came to see you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded and leaned back against the wall. Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Russell.”
“He’s probably been doubling up on his meds. He’s been sleeping more the last week or so. ”
“What can they do for him?” she asked.
Pain swallowed his voice and he shook his head. Her arms went around his waist and she held him, sharing his grief, offering him strength.
When he could speak he said, “They’ll keep him comfortable. He’s developing pneumonia despite the antibiotics and steroids they’re giving him. It won’t be long,”
A familiar figure strode toward them, her strides short and choppy, as though every step were an impatient stomp. Ah hell. I don’t need this. But Evan might.
“Russell,” she spoke as she reached him and flicked a glance down Clara’s back as though she didn’t exist. Dressed in a dark navy suit and white blouse, she looked as though she’d just come from a luncheon. Her blond hair was arranged within an inch of its life, her makeup perfect, and it appeared as though she might have had some plastic surgery to remove the fine lines around her eyes since the last time he’d seen her. With her high-arched brows and symmetrical features, she was an attractive woman, but for the discontent in her expression.
Had she been that unhappy when they were married? Or had it continued to build throughout the years?
“Hello, Gloria.”
Clara turned in his arms to face their visitor.
“We’ve been out of town on a month-long cruise and I just played your message on the answering machine. How is he?” Gloria asked, continuing to ignore Clara.
Angered by her rudeness, his face grew hot and his tone clipped. “He’s—not good. He’s very weak and he’s heavily medicated.”
“I’d like to see him.”
“You should prepare yourself. He’s very gaunt, and one side of his body is paralyzed,” Clara said, her tone careful.
“And you would be?” Gloria asked.
“This is Clara,” Russell said. “My girlfriend.”
Gloria raised a brow at the word “girl.” “Thank you for staying with Evan, but now that I’m here, you can go home.”
Clara tilted her head and a glint came into her eye. “No thank you. I promised Evan that I wouldn’t leave him, or his father, and I intend to honor my promise.”
Russell squeezed her hip gently. Good. Gloria had finally met someone who wouldn’t take her crap any more than he would.
Gloria’s lips tightened. “You both look as though you could use a break. Why don’t you wander down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee or a meal? I’ll call your cell should anything happen, Russell.”
“Thanks, but we’ve both eaten. We’ll wander down the hall and be back in a few minutes,” Russell said. After Gloria entered the room, he guided Clara away from the door.
“She’s always gotten her way by acting the lady of the manor where everyone is supposed to do her bidding,” he said. He struggled to keep the bitterness from his tone, but didn’t quite manage.
“That’s not what we call it from where I’m from,” Clara said, two angry spots of color riding high on her cheeks. Her expression changed to a frown of anxiety. “Do you think it’s a good idea to leave her alone with Evan? She hasn’t spoken to him in weeks.”
“Has Evan told you what happened between them?” he asked.
Clara hesitated long enough that he stopped and turned to face her.
“Has he asked you not to tell me, Clara?”
She nodded. Her gaze wandered back down the hall to the room again. Her anxiety triggered his concern.
Gloria’s behavior was more heavy-handed than usual. The way she’d arrived, like a woman on a mission, and her lack of concern when he and Clara had told her of Evan’s condition triggered an edgy feeling of alarm, kicking his heart into a sickening beat.
The elevator door opened and two orderlies pushed a bed and patient out of it and down the hall. They followed behind it back toward the room, their progress slow.
Russell eased the door open a crack and waited. If he was wrong, he didn’t want to curtail their reconciliation.
“It’s a lie, Evan. You have to say it’s a lie.”
“No.” That one word answer sounded so labored, fear twisted inside Russell.
“He didn’t do
it. I would have known. Carl was a good father to you.”
“No.”
“He would have never hurt you.”
“He did.”
Clara’s hand tightened around his. Russell pulled away and shoved open the door hard enough that it hit the wall stop mounted behind it. Gloria jerked and straightened.
“What are you doing, Gloria?” Russell asked as he advanced toward her.
Evan gripped the sheet and his one good leg moved as though he’d escape the bed if he could. His breathing came so labored and fast, his oxygen mask fogged from the effort.
“We were just talking.”
Her guilty flush set fire to the rage Russell attempted to control. He grabbed her arm and half dragged, half marched her from the room. Once outside, he shoved her against the wall and held her there, the need to strike her perfect, surgery-enhanced face so sharp and fresh he trembled.
“Is there a problem, Dr. Connelly?” one of the nurses asked, while another brushed by to enter the room.
“Yes there is. This woman is harassing my son, and I need you to call security.”
Gloria’s face blanched white beneath her makeup and beads of sweat. “You can’t do that, Russell.”
“Yes, I can. And my next call will be to the police. Our only child is dying, Gloria. And his last memory of his mother will be of you standing over him like some kind of fucking harpy. If I read the conversation you just had right, you can tell Carl Hanson that he’ll be seeing me, soon. My son needs me right now.”
He thrust his face closer and she flinched, bumping her head against the wall.
“I couldn’t protect him when he was young. You made certain of that. And I should have tried harder. I should have filed for custody. But I didn’t, and I’ll have to live with that.” His fury surged, threatening to eat his control. “You have more to answer for, and you will. Did you keep him from me because you were afraid of what he might tell me? Was the money so important to you that you turned a blind eye?”
“It isn’t true.”
“Yes, it is. Our child just gave you deathbed testimony. And all you could do is be the fucking bitch you are. The bitch you’ve always been.”
Two uniformed security officers exited the elevator and trotted down the hall.
“Is there a problem, sir?” One of the men asked.
With an effort, Russell released Gloria’s arm, the desire to snap it strong.
“No problem. I was just leaving,” Her voice trembled, and she jerked the sleeve of her suit jacket down where his hand had bunched it.
“Don’t come back, Gloria,” Russell said.
“My purse,” she said.
“I’ll get it.” Anything to be rid of her. Anything to get her as far away from him and Evan as possible before he lost it and hurt her. For the first time in his life, he wanted to raise his hands against a woman. He wanted to beat her into nothingness.
Clara looked up from her seat next to Evan’s bed, her expression anxious. Evan had curled onto his side, his breathing, though still labored, had evened out. His eyes were closed.
The nurse stepped back from the IV stand, a hypodermic in her hand. She dropped the used syringe in the medical disposal box next to the bed. “I’ve given him his pain medication just a few minutes early. He’s asleep now.”
Russell grabbed the expensive leather clutch Gloria had left on the chair, and, going to the door, thrust it out to one of the security guards and shut the door.
He went to the bed and brushed his hand over Evan’s head, smoothing his fine brown hair back from his forehead. He was a grown man, but in that moment Russell saw the fragile child he had been. Every moment he hadn’t been there for his son compounded, ripping through him like shrapnel. A wail of pain and rage clawed upward, begging for release. He collapsed in the chair beside the bed, dropped his head to the edge of the mattress and wept.
***
The plane hit a small patch of turbulence and bounced. The seat belt sign flashed on and the pilot spoke over the intercom to warn them of rough air ahead.
“They probably traced him through his SAT phone,” Tess said. “I should never have insisted he call me every night. I led them right to him, Brett.” Her insides felt raw with worry, as though a virus had settled somewhere between her stomach and her heart and was gnawing away at both. Her plateau of anxiety never eased.
She started shaking again and wrapped an arm around Brett’s. She’d never been a clinging vine, but having him there to hold on to was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
“You don’t know that, Tess. You can’t continue to beat yourself up and second guess what you did or didn’t do.” The concern in his expression was both a comfort and a reason to cry again. “Beat me up instead. It was my fault he was there. If you have to blame someone, blame me.”
She turned her face against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of hotel shampoo and soap and him. “I can’t. Ian said he was where he wanted to be. That he’d be fine. I’m so fucking mad at him.”
“No you’re not.” Brett tugged his arm free and looped it around her to hold her. “You’re afraid. But he’s a tough SOB, and he’ll be okay. They may just try to ransom him.”
“If they were going to do that, they already would have.”
“Not necessarily. You have to give the powers that be time to work on this, Tess.”
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Do you think they are? Do you think they even care?”
“I think they’re on top of it and you’ll get some news in the next couple of days.”
A couple of days! That was a lifetime. “What would you be doing if it were your father?” She turned her face against his chest. “I’m sorry, Brett.”
“It’s okay, honey. I’d be doing the same things you’re doing right now. My hands would be just as tied as yours are. I’d be holding on to the people who cared about me and praying.”
She drew back to look up into his face. Did he know something? Had they told him something when he’d called the base and talked to—whomever he had talked to? And why couldn’t he tell her, if they had?
Because he didn’t want her to get her hopes up—just in case.
The plane landed and they exited the terminal. Tess turned her phone on as they walked through, but there were no messages or missed calls.
Brett paused just outside debarkation to answer his phone, which rang as soon as he turned it on. “Yes, sir.” He listened for a moment a frown working its way across his face. “I’ll swing by on my way home, sir.” He hung up and studied his missed call log.
“What is it?” Tess asked.
“Jackson’s been trying to get in touch with me for the last four hours. Yet when he called just now all he said was that he needed me to come by his house so we could talk about the change in my orders.”
“Maybe he has plans later in the week and he’s trying to clear his desk.”
Brett shook his head. “We don’t talk about anything work-related outside the base, Tess. If he wants to talk about something off-post, it’s got to be something he wants to say off the record.”
“So, what do you think it might be?”
“He’s been pressuring me for months. I think he wants me to resign my commission and take a medical discharge.”
Tess studied his features. “You’re not going to do it.”
“No. I had doubts when my speech thing was at its worst, but not anymore. I think I’ve broken through whatever block was causing it. As soon as I’m back a hundred percent from this last injury, I’m requesting a transfer out of Jackson’s command. And I’ll take it up the chain as far as I have to.”
On the one hand, hearing him say it triggered a wave of disappointment, but she couldn’t wish for him to be any less than what he was. If she loved him, she had to accept his job, just as she loved Ian, despite his.
“That might mean a transfer to the East Coast,” she said.
“And how would you
feel about that?” he asked, his attention focused on her in such a way her stomach dropped.
“I’m from the East Coast, Brett.”
“So you wouldn’t be completely opposed to moving back?”
She searched his face. Was he asking her to go with him?
When she remained silent, he said. “It isn’t the time to talk about it with all this other stuff going on. But it won’t hurt to think about it.”
Oh, my God, he was.
***
“I just had to hear your voice, Zoe. Just to know you’re okay,” Clara said.
There was a tone in her voice that tightened Zoe’s stomach with dread, and she pressed a hand against her midriff. “What’s going on there, Mom?”
“Evan’s in the hospital. He hasn’t much longer. He’s such a sweet young man. I’ve learned to love him. It’s a hard thing to watch. To feel.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Is there anything I can do?”
“Just take care of yourself. I can’t leave him and Russell, Zoe. I promised Evan I wouldn’t leave his father while he’s going through this.”
“How is Russell?”
“Not good. Losing your father was hard. But losing a child—I couldn’t bear it. I don’t know how Russell is going to. I don’t think he’ll ever be the same.”
“I understand.” Zoe pressed her fingertips against her lips to still their tearful trembling. Had she said too much? “Brett and I are fine, Mom. Just do what you need to do there. We’re being careful, and everything has been quiet since you’ve been gone.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being there at the house by yourself.”
“Hawk has the house set up like Fort Knox, Mom. The alarm is always on. And I check the video recorder every night to make sure no one’s been around. The sensors are motion-activated and record anything that moves. If the alarm goes off, a security company responds immediately. The man who runs it is a retired SEAL. Hawk has weapons all over the house, and he’s taught me to use them.”
Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 34
