Holding his Hostage (Shattered SEALs Book 3)

by Amy Gamet

  Trace belched. “Give me four.”

  Mac clucked his tongue. “There’s a two-card limit, Langston. Just like last hand.”

  “Then fuck. Give me two.”

  Sloan put his cards facedown. “I fold.”

  “What the hell, Dvorak?” asked Trace. “You gonna play or not?”

  “Not.” He moved to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of Cheetos, opening them and throwing them into the middle of the table.

  Mac raised an eyebrow at him. “What happened to the filet mignon?”

  “I’m fresh out.”

  “I’ll take one,” said Moto.

  “Dealer takes two,” said Mac.

  Poker was a terrible idea. What was he thinking inviting them over here tonight? He’d been in a foul mood for the past two weeks, and company wasn’t improving it one damn bit.

  He knew what his problem was. He missed Jo. He was being the grown-up, doing the right thing, and giving her and David some space to work things out. But he hated it, every brain cell he had left screaming for him to do the wrong thing, be the bad guy, and go get the girl.

  “I’m going to be taking a leave of absence from work,” said Mac, throwing two chips into the pot. “I have some personal business I need to take care of.”

  Sloan sat back down. “Everything all right?”

  “Yep, just looking for my Ellie is all.” Mac looked to Trace. “You in?”

  “I’ll raise you twenty.” He burped again. “Jesus, this Mexican beer is killing me. Who’s going to be in charge while you’re away?”

  “I figured Sloan here can do it.”

  Sloan scowled. “Why me?”

  “You decided to stay with HERO Force, ain’t that right? Figure you should try on management for size.”

  He’d been continuing to weigh his options since Joanne left. Helping her had made him feel useful again, valuable. Like maybe he had something to contribute to the team, after all. If he hadn’t worked for HERO Force, he never would have been able to help. Still, he resented Mac’s assumption. “I never said for sure.”

  “Ah, but you meant to. Just slipped your mind. You try sitting behind the big desk for a while, calling the shots. Let me know how you like it when I get back.”

  “Fine.”

  The doorbell rang and Gus headed for it, barking his head off. Sloan grabbed a handful of Cheetos and went to answer it, freezing when the dog’s barks changed to a plaintive whine. He cocked his head, hope rising up in his chest. “Who is it, boy?”

  He got close enough to hear Fiona’s gravelly voice from the other side. “Hello, puppy, puppy, puppy…”

  A smile spread across his face as he opened the door. “Surprise!” yelled Fiona and Lucas. April waved. Joanne stood in the back, her expression more difficult to read.

  He opened the storm door, the dog rushing past to leap on Joanne. “Come on in.”

  Fiona hugged his legs and he bent down to hug her properly. Lucas also came in for a hug, though he patted Sloan’s back like a man hugging a man. April scooted by with another wave. “Hi, Sloan.” Until only Jo and Gus were left on the porch.

  “Hi, there,” she said, her cheeks filling with color and her eyes sparkling. Hope sprang to life for the first time in weeks.

  He stepped outside.

  He should ask her why she was here.

  He should ask her how David was doing.

  I should hold her tight and never let her go.

  “Look out, dog.” He lightly pushed Gus out of the way, took Jo in his arms, and kissed her.

  She chuckled. “You taste like Cheese-its.”

  “Cheetos. Come here, you sexy thing.” He turned her around and pressed her against the house, kissing her thoroughly. “Tell me you’re not going back to David.”

  “I’m not going back to David.”

  “Tell me you’re coming back to stay.”

  She pulled back and laughed. “I was just going to ask you to dinner.”

  “Oh, we’re way past dinner, honey.” He kissed her more deeply, letting his fingers trace the side of her face. “I don’t ever want to be without you again. Besides, my dog really likes you.”

  She rested her forehead against his and sighed. “He’s our dog, you jerk. Now let’s go inside.”

  Epilogue

  Fiona’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped into an O. She took the pink and purple apron from Sloan. “I get princesses?”

  “You sure do, sweetheart. You’re going to be in charge of the powdered sugar.”

  She hugged it to herself and spun from side to side. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  He moved to Lucas, who’d already put on his NASCAR apron. “Hold it like this, then drizzle the honey out in a thin, swooshy line.” He demonstrated on a paper plate. “Give it a practice try.”

  “I think the oil’s hot enough,” said April, whose bright yellow apron had a more adult, geometric motif. “It’s wavy, like you said.”

  “Okay, flatten the dough into a circle with the heel of your hand, like this.” She did as he demonstrated. “Perfect. Now take the tongs and gently place it in the oil. Try not to drop it, or it will splatter.”

  Joanne walked into the kitchen. “It smells amazing in here.”

  “I got princesses!” yelled Fiona. “And I do the sugar.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.” She crossed to Sloan and slipped her hand around his waist. “David’s going to be here in about twenty minutes to pick up the kids.”

  “Where’s he taking us?” asked Lucas.

  “Laser golf and the batting cages at the mall, then you’re sleeping at his new apartment.” All three kids turned to stare at their mom. “He has enough room now. He wants you to stay.”

  “Yay!” said Fiona. “We’re sleeping at Daddy’s today. Can I bring my princess dress?”

  “The apron?” asked Sloan. “Why not.” He checked on April’s fried dough. “See how the edges are turning golden brown? You can flip it over now. Just be careful.”

  When the dough was done, Lucas covered it in a thin swirl of honey and Fiona dusted it with an inch of powdered sugar. “Oops, sorry.” She stuck out her bottom lip.

  “Looks good to me,” said Sloan, tearing off a piece and popping it in his mouth. “So delicious.”

  Everyone tore off a piece and proclaimed it to be the the best fried dough any of them had ever eaten. “I’ll finish this up,” said Sloan. “You guys get cleaned up for your dad.”

  Joanne ran her finger through the powdered sugar on the countertop. “It’s amazing how much of a mess they can make in such a short period of time. What do you want to do tonight?”

  “I don’t care, as long as we’re naked.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s like you can read my mind.” She kissed him. “You taste like powdered sugar.”

  He wagged his eyebrows. “I have some honey in a squeeze bottle we can probably find a use for.”

  “Sounds messy.”

  He kissed her, pinning her hips against the counter. “Don’t worry, miss, I’m a professional.”