She didn’t mention that a couple of his buddies came by morning and night. One to take her to the hospital, and the other to deliver her home and make sure she got in okay.
“Could you use one without hesitation, Zoe?”
She might have hesitated before the incident with Derrick Armstrong. But not now. She’d seen what people were capable of. And she had someone besides herself to think of now, her baby. “Yes, I could. And I would. No one is going to hurt me, Mom. I’m going to make sure of it.”
“Is Brett okay? I tried to call earlier and all I got was voicemail.”
“He’s in the air on his way back from Washington with Tess.” Zoe debated whether or not to tell her what was going on. She was under so much stress already, but she’d be upset about being kept in the dark. “Tess’s father was kidnapped. They believe he’s being held hostage by the same militant group who kidnapped the boys.”
“Oh my God. Tess must be crazy with worry.”
“Brett said she was taking it hard. But he’s giving her all the support he can. They’ll be back on the ground in an hour.”
“Tell him to text me when he lands, so I’ll know he’s okay.”
“I will.”
“Keep me posted. I need to know you’re both all right.”
“Call us and keep us posted on things there. And know that I’m thinking of you and Russell. I wish there had been time for me to meet Evan.”
“I do, too,” Clara’s voice broke. “I love you, Zoe.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
Zoe hung the phone up and sat for a moment, trying to shake the feelings of grief her mother had projected. Clara loved too easily. But who was she to judge? Though a man in uniform had been the last on her list as a possible mate, she’d fallen for Hawk almost as soon as they’d met.
And now he was seven thousand miles away and eleven hours ahead of her, but it hadn’t changed the intensity of her feelings for him. He’d emailed her to let her know he was okay. And they’d instant messaged. Hearing his voice would have been better, but she’d take what she could get. Just knowing he was alive and unhurt made it easier to function.
But how was she supposed to tell him about the baby when he was in constant danger? She couldn’t.
She rose to put the finishing touches on her makeup and tugged her hair up into a ponytail. Her cell phone rang and she limped back into the kitchen to pick it up. “I’m here,” Petty Officer Norm Hamilton said.
“On my way out.” She gathered her things, looked through the peephole in the front door, and disarmed the alarm. She re-armed it and pulled the door closed, checking the lock. “You’re the only woman I know who is really ready when she says she’ll be,” Norm said from his position on the porch. “If Hawk weren’t such a good guy, I’d be tempted.” He grinned.
His homely face was almost handsome when he smiled, but Zoe shook her head. “I hate to be blunt, Norm, but you don’t stand a chance.”
He gripped his chest and staggered. “Damn, you could have sugar-coated it, darlin’.” His west Texas drawl reminded her of Bowie’s.
Immediately her thoughts went to Hawk, and she forced a smile despite the wave of longing that hit her. “I shoot from the hip, Norm.”
The moment she started toward the steps he became all professional SEAL. His gaze sharp, he scanned the street for any movement. He placed himself just a little ahead of her, positioning his body to take a blow or a bullet, should either materialize. He opened the car door for her and she wasted no time getting in. “I’m sorry you have to keep doing this. I know you’d rather be doing something else,” she said, when he was behind the wheel.
“If Hawk and Brett say I need to be here, I’m here, Zoe. They know their stuff. If something’s making them itchy, there’s a legitimate reason. Besides, they’ve both saved my bacon numerous times.”
“I really appreciate you doing this.” Her hand moved to cradle the small roundness of her abdomen.
“It won’t be for long.” He glanced at her, his expression reassuring. “They’ll catch the SOB who shot Brett and it will be over.”
“I hope so.”
He swung past the parking structure and pulled up to the front door. The large round disk over it read Naval Medical Center San Diego around the edge. Every time she saw it she thought of how many times she’d passed by going to see Brett. She slid out of the vehicle in the midst of a group.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. If you need me, you know the number. If I can’t come, I’ll send out the Navy.”
Zoe laughed and threw up a hand as she strode toward the entrance. A dark-haired man with a prosthetic arm held the door for her, and she nodded her thanks as she went into the building. He fell into step just behind her as she wandered through the labyrinth of halls to the physical therapy wing.
The man stayed to her right and five or so feet behind her all the way to the clinic. With every step she fought the urge to look over her shoulder at him. She didn’t know every patient, and the fact that she didn’t recognize this one didn’t necessarily mean anything. But she increased her pace, though the strain on her bad leg had the damaged muscles in her calf aching. Her heart was thudding in her throat. The few people they passed in the wide halls didn’t seem to take notice of either of them.
He continued to keep pace with her. When she saw the entrance to the clinic, she drew a calming breath. She opened the door and ducked in. The man caught the wooden panel before it swung shut behind her. She passed through the waiting room, and, jerking open the door leading to the therapy rooms, swung through and yanked it shut behind her. The door to the office proper where the clerical staff worked was propped open, and she paused to look through the window as he approached it. He signed his name to the list just as any patient would, then picking up a magazine from a rack, and sat down in one of the gray-blue padded chairs.
He was just a patient. She leaned against the wall. Her heart beat in her ears, her leg throbbed, and she was trembling. He was just a patient. Had he been anything else he could have caught up to her at any time. She waited for the worst of the fear to pass before she straightened and limped down the hall to the employee locker room.
Tomorrow she was going to ask Norm to walk her into the office.
CHAPTER 35
Hawk rested his head against the metal bulkhead behind him and tried to block out the voice in his head that kept harping at him every few minutes. Why hadn’t she told him? There had been opportunities. She’d told Trish, but she hadn’t told him. But then how many times had she said ‘I need to talk to you’? Now that he was thinking about it, he remembered several. And there’d always been an interruption. A problem to deal with. The morning he’d talked to her about the legal issues stood out—Jesus, he’d dropped that fucking bomb on her, and she’d brushed everything else aside to offer him support and tell him how much she loved him.
And now he’d walked out the door and left her—Jesus! But even if he’d known, he’d have still have had to go. She knew that. She understood that. A lump the size of a softball lodged in his throat, he swallowed against it.
As soon as this mission was behind them, he’d call. Though use of the SAT phone was limited, he’d get it and he’d talk to her about … their baby. The words created such a jumble of emotions into his chest it was hard to breathe. Joy, excitement, possessiveness for their baby and for Zoe, and love. But a hint of anger tinted those feelings, too. She should have told him.
He had to set this aside and get his head in the game.
The men were quiet, the tension inside the compartment thick. His gaze scanned the faces of the three new members of his team, Sizemore, Tyler, and Logan. Sizemore had transferred in at the last moment to fill Brett’s position, but he was no stranger to action and had been in the teams for nearly two years. During their practice drills he’d fallen into the rhythm of the team seamlessly. He was an excellent sniper. Tyler and Logan, though new, had been working with the rest of the team for three mo
nths now. They’d seen action, but not like they’d see tonight. He’d paired them with Bowe and Doc just in case. They’d do fine, as long as they followed their training.
The helo caught a downdraft and dipped; Hawk grabbed his seat and braced his feet. Lang, sitting beside him, did the same. It was his fault Doc and Bowie were mentoring two new guys who’d been with their team too short a time. It was his fault Langley Marks was sitting here beside him, away from his family. It was his fault the four of them were taking heat because of Derrick Armstrong. He should have never called any of them. They were on this fucking helo because of him. He’d apologized to them all, but that wasn’t going to make up for them being away from their families. Or that they were back here again in this desert, eating sand and risking their lives.
“Let it go, Hawk,” Lang said, close to his ear.
Hawk’s gaze shifted to Lang’s face.
Lang’s expression was solemn, his lantern jaw taut with emotion. “Every man on this helo is here because we’re SEALs. This is what we do. We all knew Armstrong was on the edge. But the only one who reached out to him and tried to help him was you. You did everything right. And it still went to shit. And that isn’t your fault, or mine, or anyone’s but his. You’re not the one who put us on this chopper. Command did that to make a bullshit political situation go away. Every man on this team knows that and understands. You can’t take the weight of every goddamn thing that happens onto your shoulders. And you can’t control everyone’s actions any more than you could control Derrick Armstrong. So, let it go.”
Digesting, analyzing what Lang had said, Hawk remained silent. Lang was right. There was nothing he could do to change the situation, so he had to just ride it out. “Thanks, Lang.”
“You’re welcome.” He folded his arms over his chest, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. “Wake me when we get there.”
Hawk let out a short bark of laughter and shook his head. Lang smiled but didn’t open his eyes.
“Ten minutes out.” The landing controller’s voice came over the intercom. Hawk checked his watch. An hour’s hump to the complex, then they’d get to work. If everything went according to plan, he’d be back at base soon enough to call Zoe around the time she got ready for bed.
Five minutes out, Hawk signaled for them to prepare for touchdown and poked Lang in the ribs. “COMs on,” he ordered.
“Intel says all’s quiet,” the landing controller said.
A few minutes later, the CH-47 pitched backward, then shuddered as it went into a hover. The ramp lowered even before the big machine touched down. Hawk double-timed it off the chopper into the desert with Lang on his heels and the other fourteen SEALs close behind.
The helo’s blades kicked up a dust storm as it bugged out to drop the other sixteen SEALs at another location and to take cover five miles farther north.
Using hand signals, he ordered his men to fall in. The shamal wind that had been stronger during the day had eased. It feathered across his face, chilling the sweat that ran down his cheek. It was a double-edged sword. The wind could cover their approach to the complex, yet if it were too strong and kicked up a dust storm, it would impede the choppers from moving in to transport the hostages and them from the area.
As they approached the small village of Zalem, Hawk turned to the west, farther into the desert and away from the sleeping town. They had half an hour to take position for the raid. The terrain was steep hills and desert with little vegetation. The mountains in the west were sharp purple summits etched against the night sky.
The sand dragged at Hawk’s boots as they climbed the next hillside and paused to look down on the block-like buildings below. He signaled for the men to spread out and take cover. He knelt beside Jeff Sizemore as he set up the M-11 sniper rifle and the night vision scope. The weapon was capable of taking out a target at fifteen hundred yards, and Sizemore didn’t miss.
Hawk raised his night vision binoculars and studied the area around the buildings. “Six standing post,” Hawk said. The images of the men as they paced the area looked like green shadows. He studied the size of the images but couldn’t tell if they were men or boys. “We’ll need to take out the two on the roof of the east building.” The direction from which they were approaching. “And take the chance they aren’t the kids. Condor two will take out the others.”
“Roger that,” Sizemore said.
“First light. Wait for my signal.” Hawk said.
“Aye, sir.”
Waiting for dawn was a risk, but without light the possibility of killing some of the boys by accident was too great.
Hawk signaled for two men to dig in. One would spot for Sizemore while the other guarded their position. He checked his watch, then motioned the others to move.
He motioned to Jack Logan, his communications specialist, to follow and the two of them worked their way downhill to a small trench. Logan set up the radio, checked the system, then they settled in to wait.
***
The sound of Evan’s breathing had changed in the last hour. Each inhale had grown further apart and shallower. Clara caught herself drawing a breath every time he did. It was all happening too fast. But he had nothing to fight the pneumonia with. His body was just too weak.
Even if he could beat back the infection, the cancerous lesion in his brain had already paralyzed his right side and was eating away at him. At the moment he wasn’t in pain. If he were, she didn’t think she could bear it.
Russell sat forward in his chair, his gaze focused on some distant spot beyond the room. He clenched and unclenched his hands, the movement laced with frustration and pain. Since he’d broken down earlier, he hadn’t spoken.
What could she do for him? How could she help him? She rose to her feet and moved around the bed to where he sat. She knelt at his feet and took his clenched fists in her hands. “I love you. I love your son. Tell me what I can do to help.”
Russell shook his head. He drew her up to sit on his thigh. He rested his head against her breast and she stroked his hair, the back of his neck. “I love you,” he said. “You’re the strongest woman I know. You give your heart so freely, so fearlessly.”
Hearing the words brought her a profound sense of relief. “You’re wrong. I was terrified when we first met.”
He tilted his head back to look up at her. “Why?”
“Because I hadn’t even attempted to allow another man into my life since my Joe died. And then there you were at the airport, and I felt that special spark between us I hadn’t felt in twenty years. And I was scared to death.”
“But you still let me into your life, and you took Evan in, too.”
“I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been you and Evan hadn’t been Evan.”
He turned his face against her breasts again. And she held him tight.
“I failed him, Clara.” His voice cracked.
“Had you known, you’d have taken action. But you didn’t. It’s in the past. Evan didn’t hold you responsible. And you’re here now when he needs you more than he ever has before. And he knows you love him, Russell. That’s the most important thing.”
He nodded. And some of the tension drained from his shoulders. “I wish there was something I could do to make it up to him.”
The file Evan had given her came to mind. She’d had her doubts about being the one to hand it over to the District Attorney. She’d promised to do it to save Russell as much pain as she could. But perhaps Russell was the one who needed to deliver it. “You know that old saying about what goes around, comes around?”
“Yes.”
“Well, sometimes it’s true.”
***
Zoe paused in the hall outside the therapy room and glanced at her watch. One more patient and she’d take her lunch break. Removing the phone from her pocket, she checked for messages from Clara and, seeing none, texted Brett, reminding him to contact Mom when his plane landed. She slid the phone into her pocket and leaned against the door facing
while she waited for Cal Crowes.
A double amputee lay on one of the padded exercise beds doing flutter kicks with his stumps to exercise his thigh muscles. Another gripped the parallel bars while practicing balance exercises. The sight of these young men fighting their way back from such terrible injuries triggered a wave of empathy. They were maimed, but they weren’t quitters. Though she’d helped other people work their way back from serious injuries, the work she was doing here was more fulfilling than anything she’d ever done.
Cal Crowes came around the corner and walked toward her. She studied how he shifted his weight and placed each step. Had she not been watching closely, she would have never known he had a prosthesis, but for the metal rod leading into the flex foot. He’d been practicing. A smile leapt to her lips. “You’re doing great.”
A man turned the corner behind him. His dark gaze focused on her as he approached. The same man had entered the clinic earlier this morning. Had he been sitting in the waiting room all this time? Why hadn’t he been seen?
The man stopped fifteen feet behind Cal. His prosthetic arm with its metal fingers lay folded across his chest. “Zoe Weaver?” he asked. He raised his uninjured hand.
“Yes.” What was in his hand?
Cal turned to glance over his shoulder. He caught his breath. “Bomb!” With a lunge, he shoved Zoe through the open doorway, his large body forcing her sideways into the room and down. Her damaged leg folded and Zoe struck the tile floor hip first. Cal’s body landing atop hers forced the air from her lungs at the same time the blast shook the cinderblock walls, the floor. Debris shot from the hallway, hit the door, and ricocheted into the room. Ceiling tiles fell and one of the four-foot long plastic covers for the lights crashed to the floor along with the metal strips that held it in place. Concrete dust billowed through the air like smoke.
Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 35
