In Deep - A Secret Twins Romance (Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL Book 6)

by Layla Valentine

Because Kyle is going to be there.

  I want to let him know. Really, I do. But I don’t know how long this trial is going to drag on. It could be months. It could still be going on when the babies are born, when I’m too big to appear in court anymore—God, I’m going to be huge, aren’t I, carrying twins?

  Kyle is a good man. He’ll want to do the right thing. But in doing so, he would be forced to compromise the case. I don’t want to go through this alone, but most of all, I don’t want to sabotage a case that’s taken years to build. I just need to get through one day in court. I’ll get up on the stand, I’ll give my testimony, I’ll hold my lunch down, and I will do my best not to look Kyle in the eye.

  It will be so hard to face him, knowing that I’m holding back something so vital. He’s going to be a father.

  I glance at the clock beside my bed. It’s early yet, too early to head over to the court, but I’m driving myself crazy sitting here and thinking about it all.

  Maybe by getting there early, I can snag a good seat. What would that be, I wonder? Do I want to sit close to the front, so I can keep an eye on the proceedings? Or would I rather be farther back, so Xavier can’t turn around and look at me? Do I want to sit with any ex-Pyrite people, should they happen to be in attendance, or would I rather isolate myself from them?

  The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t want to be anywhere near Kyle. As much as I’m longing to see him again, to talk to him, to draw reassurance from his presence, I know it would be nearly impossible to sit beside him in court and not tell him I’m pregnant. My only hope is to avoid him altogether.

  I leave my hotel room, double-checking that I have everything, and make my way down to the lobby. Leaving early definitely has its benefits—I can count on the fact that I won’t run into anybody else and be required to make small talk. I don’t know if I could handle that right now. I’m so nervous I feel like I’m about to swallow my tongue. I sip my water again and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

  “Ma’am?” the receptionist behind the desk calls over. “Are you all right?”

  I open my eyes. The world is a little steadier. “I’m fine,” I say. “I just need to get a taxi to the courthouse.”

  “Well, our bellhop can help you with that,” she says earnestly, pointing to a stand just outside the door. Sure enough, a uniformed man is standing there, moving a family’s luggage around.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “No problem.” She flashes me a big grin. “You have a nice day now.”

  I make my way out to the bellhop stand and wait my turn to be helped. He makes brief eye contact to let me know he sees me, but he’s clearly busy with all the suitcases that have been arranged on the ground in front of him, so I know I’ll have a bit of waiting to do. But that’s okay. I came down early. I can spare a bit of time.

  “Excuse me,” a voice says. “Excuse me.”

  It’s coming from several feet away, to my left. I glance over. Across a small alley that runs between the hotel and the neighboring restaurant, a man is waving frantically at me. He’s almost definitely a tourist—I can tell by his sun visor, his untrendy shorts, and his pale skin. He grins when he sees that I’ve noticed him and waves even harder.

  I glance back over my shoulder. The bellhop isn’t going to be ready for me anytime soon. He’s loading bags onto a dolly now and has summoned an assistant to help him. I hesitate for a moment, then jog across the alley to where the tourist is standing.

  He holds out a map. “Sorry to bother you,” he says. “Are you from around here?”

  Did he not just see me walk out of a hotel? Still, there’s no reason not to at least make an effort to be helpful.

  “I’m from California,” I say. “Can I do something for you?”

  “Maybe,” he says. “I’m trying to get to the Golden Gate Bridge. Can you point me in the right direction?”

  I stare. “Um. The Golden Gate Bridge is in San Francisco.”

  “Oh.” The tourist frowns and pushes up his sunglasses, squinting at the map. It’s a local map, so of course San Francisco isn’t even visible on it, but he appears to be scanning for the city. “Is that near here?”

  “It’s about a two-hour drive,” I say, stifling a laugh.

  This guy has to be from the East Coast. I’ve seen things like this before—tourists from tiny little states who aren’t prepared for the fact that they can’t see all of California in a single trip. I’m sure he made a list of landmarks from Napa to LA that will have to be drastically altered now that he’s here. I just hope it doesn’t ruin his trip too much. There’s plenty to see and do in Sacramento if you just research your trip properly.

  Before I can explain all this, however, a van zooms up and screeches to a halt beside the curb. I jump back automatically, outraged. That thing almost hit me! And I’m pregnant!

  I’m about to pound on the hood in anger when the sliding side door opens. Hands reach out—more than two, several people’s hands, a whole company of them—and seize me by the wrists, upper arms, and shoulders. They pull me forward. Stumbling, I lurch into the van.

  I hear a slam. The door has closed behind me.

  And now we’re moving. I’m lying on the floor of the van, facedown, struggling to process what has just happened, fear just starting to crack the numbness and confusion. There are voices above me, low and urgent, talking about something, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

  I’ve been kidnapped.

  The thought comes to me and the word sends a chill through me that actually makes me shiver on the floor of the van. I try to roll over, but someone kicks my shoulder, and I lie still.

  There’s no one in the world who knows where I am or how to find me, and I’m being driven away in the back of a van.

  Oh my God.

  Chapter 20

  Tammy

  Even now, a part of my brain wants to veer toward rational thought. A part of me wants to do what I know is smart and sensible. And on some instinctive level, I know what that is.

  I need to figure out where we’re going, so that if opportunity strikes, I can get back.

  But it isn’t looking good. The windows are tinted, and from my position on the floor, I’m completely unable to get a look at my surroundings. The angle is all wrong to see anything but sky, anyway. I try keeping count of the turns we’re making, but I’m in an unfamiliar city. Even if I could keep track, it probably wouldn’t be very helpful information to have.

  I look up at the sea of people surrounding me. They’re all in ski masks, I notice for the first time—ghoulish-looking black knit face covers. Other than that, though, they look almost military. They sit with their feet firmly planted on the floor of the swaying van, shoulders squared. A few of them have guns resting across their laps. I’ve never seen a gun up close like this before—if the van pitched too hard, this one would probably strike me in the face.

  How long before anyone notices I’m missing? I was supposed to show up in court today, of course, but I’ve already established that I’m unreliable by missing my original testimony. If I don’t show up, Vivian Yates will probably assume I was made sick by my pregnancy, and everyone else will just figure that’s in character for me. Maybe they’ll decide I’m like the other members of Pyrite Ranch—too weak and afraid to testify. Either way, it’ll probably be a while before anyone starts looking for me.

  My mother would have looked for me quickly. So would Kyle. But Mom doesn’t know I’m here. God, why was I so determined to keep it from her? That was so stupid of me. And as for Kyle, well, he’s deliberately trying to avoid me in order to spare us both pain. If he doesn’t see me, he’ll just congratulate himself on a job well done.

  My babies. My twin babies. This isn’t about me; I have to get out of here for their sake. Whoever these people are, they’re clearly violent, and they clearly have guns. They won’t hesitate to shoot me if they decide it’s important to their cause. I need to get my babies out of here before th
ese people can hurt them.

  As that thought crystalizes in my mind, the van slows and pulls over to the side of the road. The driver gets out, but nobody else moves. He comes around to the sliding passenger door through which I was pulled into the van, grabs me by the wrist, and yanks me forward.

  “Get out.”

  I stumble forward and nearly fall flat on my face on the ground. The driver catches me dispassionately and stands me on my feet. The other passengers unload behind me, and I get my first look at my surroundings. My heart sinks. I have no idea where I am.

  We’re in the middle of a forest. I can say with certainty that it isn’t the forest that surrounded Pyrite Ranch, but that leaves literally every other forest in the world, so I haven’t narrowed things down much at all. I think back over the van ride—how long were we driving? Less than an hour, I think, although it felt like years, I was so afraid. We’re probably somewhere on the outskirts of Sacramento. I know there are national parks here; could we be in one of them? The woods are full of peaceful sounds—wind rustling leaves, distant birds singing—and it’s very hard to be afraid until I try to reconcile all of that with the masked men standing around me and holding guns.

  Just as I’m thinking this, one of the men speaks. “Tammy Owens. Good to see you again.”

  “Who are you?” My voice is shaking. I take a few deep breaths, trying to bring my nerves under control.

  The speaker pulls off his mask. “I’m heartbroken. I would have thought you would remember me.”

  Elias.

  Elias, who worked hand in hand with Xavier, who was equally responsible for everything that went on at Pyrite. Elias, who was never caught.

  Just seeing his face brings back memories. He used to stand in the doorway of the sewing room, watching us. It made everyone nervous to be watched like that, even though there was no punishment if you made mistakes. He seemed like he thought he was better than us. Looking back on it now, I imagine he felt the prestige of being second in command to Xavier.

  He was never caught. The Navy SEALs who raided the ranch weren’t able to catch him. He’s been free all this time.

  One by one, the other people standing around us begin to remove their masks. I had assumed I was surrounded by men, but it’s men and women both, and to my surprise and horror, many of the faces are familiar ones. Miriam is here. So is Evan, my fellow convert.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Your testimony isn’t going to be needed today, Tammy,” Elias says.

  “What do you mean?”

  I feel a sharp shock of terror. Why is Elias interfering with the case? He escaped when the ranch was raided! If I gave testimony today, it might implicate him, but it wouldn’t actually do him any harm because he’s not the one on trial. He’s increasing the risk he’s under by being in Sacramento at all today. If I were him, I would have left the country by now.

  Unless he has some other reason for being here…but what could that be?

  My question is answered quickly enough. I’m expecting to have to pry the information out of him, but he gives it up so quickly and easily that I can tell he’s been waiting for an opportunity to tell me.

  “We’re going to rebuild the ranch,” he says. “Right here, in these woods. Isn’t that wonderful?” He attempts a beatific smile that looks like a poor approximation of the peaceful look Xavier used to give us when we shared concerns with him back on the ranch. Elias isn’t good at looking soothing or happy. The expression on his face is closer to a leer.

  I back away automatically and end up in Evan’s grasp. His hands grip my biceps firmly, but not violently, holding me still. “You can’t run, Tammy,” he says quietly.

  “We’re going to break Xavier out of jail today,” Elias says. “When the trial starts, they’ll have to move him, which means the protection around him will be minimal. The timing couldn’t be better. And once we’ve got him away from those people and back with us, we’ll be able to rebuild. We’ll cut down some trees—” he waves an arm at the surrounding forest “—and build new dorms. We’ll get everyone back to work in the same jobs they once did. Of course, it will take a while to get back to the strength we once had…but we have time.”

  “I’m not coming back,” I say.

  Elias laughs, a cruel, angry sound. “I’m not asking.”

  “Elias,” I say, desperation edging into my voice. “Come on. I don’t know what you’ve been doing for the last two years, but you’ve been out in the world just like I have—how can you let that go? What about all the wonderful things that exist in the outside world that just weren’t part of life at the ranch?”

  Elias is stony-faced, so I turn to some of the other men and women around me.

  “What about seafood, chocolate, coffee!? What about travel, seeing the world? And family? I’ve reunited with my parents since we left the ranch, and we’re just starting to rebuild our relationship. I’m not going to give that up.”

  Elias laughs. “You’re not happy, Tammy. Your relationship with your parents isn’t what you describe, is it? Don’t lie. We know they’re not here in Sacramento with you. Why would they let you come testify all alone? Do they not care about what you’re going through? Or is it something else? Maybe…” His smile twists cruelly. “Maybe you didn’t tell them what was going on? What else haven’t you told them?”

  Immediately, my mind goes to my pregnancy. There’s no way Elias could know about that. But even so, I feel a sudden wave of guilt and sorrow for the fact that I haven’t told my parents about it. If something happens to me here, if Elias and his acolytes manage to make me disappear the way they so clearly want to, my parents will never know they have grandchildren.

  “No,” Elias continues, clearly unaware that my internal train of thought has jumped tracks. “You’re talking about the relationship you wish you had with your parents, not the relationship you actually have with them. And I’ll tell you what I think, Tammy. I think you’re all alone in the world since you left the ranch. You haven’t stayed in touch with any of your old friends. You weren’t married, so you don’t even have anyone you can relate to about the things you saw and experienced. You are all alone in the world.”

  I’m quiet. Elias has highlighted the very thing that eats at me, the thing that keeps me up at night sometimes.

  Most days, I’m confident that leaving the ranch behind me can only be for the best, but occasionally, rarely, I’m hit with a burst of anxiety that leaves me wondering…what if my life in the real world will never be as peaceful as what I had at Pyrite? What if I’m always stressed and sad? What if I never get over the things that happened on that ranch, and I never have anyone in my life who can really understand what I’ve been through?

  “You don’t have to worry,” Elias says, now grinning wickedly. “I have the perfect solution. I think you’re really going to be happy with this, Tammy. And it’s something I’ve always wanted, too. You were a lonely girl even on the ranch, weren’t you? Never married. Never loved.”

  “I…I didn’t find anyone I liked…”

  “You never gave anyone a chance,” he says. “Xavier and I talked about you often, you know. We wanted you to be happy. We wanted to help you solve your problem. And now, I have the perfect way. When the commune gets back together, you and I will be together, too. Our marriage will be the first celebration we share as a reformed community. Won’t that be wonderful? The citizens of Pyrite Ranch reunited, and you and me, married at last.

  “I’ve always admired you, you know,” he adds, stroking my cheek with the backs of his fingers. I want to bite him. “I’ve always thought you were the loveliest girl on the ranch. I must have said so to Xavier a thousand times. And he always believed that someday, you and I would unite. He told me not to give up. And just look—here we are.”

  “I’m not going to marry you, Elias,” I say. I’m trying to sound assertive, but it comes out as barely a whisper.

  Elias laughs. “Yes, you will. Xavier will stand
before us and pronounce us man and wife, and what are you going to do about it, exactly? He knows you were on the verge of testifying against him, Tammy. He isn’t going to have mercy on you now. He isn’t going to let you choose your own husband when he’s given you three years to make a selection and you’ve failed to do it. You’ve made it clear you need his help. You should consider yourself lucky that someone wants to marry you at all.”

  From somewhere behind us, there’s a loud snap. It echoes through the woods and seems to ricochet off the trees. If it weren’t for Evan’s hands on my arms, I would jump and spin around, trying to see what caused the noise. As it is, the surprise must register on my face.

  Elias laughs. “I know you’re not imagining someone is coming to save you,” he says. “You understand that we’re out in the middle of the woods, right? Nobody knows where we are. Nobody is coming.”

  But even as he says it, I hear another noise, a sort of rhythmic thumping that’s both strange and intensely familiar. A moment later, the wind kicks up around us. Elias is shouting now, giving orders to his accomplices, but none of us can hear a word he’s saying. Evan falls to the ground, taking me with him, and rolls on top of me. I struggle, trying to worm my way out from under his body, but he’s not letting up.

  “Stay down,” he says, right into my ear so I can hear him. “Helicopter.”

  Helicopter. Now I recognize that thumping sound.

  It feels like the helicopter is right on top of us, but when I turn my head to the side and peer upward past Evan’s arm, I can see that it’s still several yards up. A rope ladder has been lowered, and several men in what appears to be combat gear are dropping to the ground.

  “She’s bugged!” Elias screams manically.

  “Don’t move,” Evan says, still covering my body. “Don’t move.”

  “Everybody down!” a voice yells. “Everybody on the ground, now!”

  It’s hard to see what’s going on from my perspective, but I can make out several bodies joining me on the ground, spread-eagle. Heavy boots march among us, and I hear the mechanical clicking and clunking I associate with guns.