Elwood picked the chair at the end of the table, and Jonah sat catty-corner to him.
“I’ve come to see if you remember anything yet,” the agent began.
Returning the man’s watchful gaze, Jonah got the impression he was very serious about his work, to the point of neglecting his health. Belly fat hung over his belt to rest on his lap. Given his sallow complexion, he probably didn’t get much sleep. Nor did he appear to have much of a social life—not even a wife, given the absence of a wedding ring.
Maybe I’ll look like him one day.
Shaking off the depressing thought, Jonah confessed, “I have, actually. I remember some of my captivity now. It’s coming back to me in bits and pieces.” He repressed a shudder at the unpleasant visions sluicing through him.
“That’s good,” Elwood said, looking more hopeful. “What about the mission?” His pale blue eyes searched Jonah’s face. “Do you remember that yet?”
“No. Sorry,” Jonah added as the agent’s shoulders slumped.
“Well, that’s to be expected.”
Elwood looked like he might get up and leave, so Jonah took advantage of his presence to question him. “Are you investigating what went wrong on my last op or what happened to the dirty bombs we were after?”
The agent reassessed him through narrowed eyes. “Both.”
“I hear weapons are continuing to disappear,” Jonah prompted. “Any idea who The Entity is that’s taking them?”
“Do you?” Elwood countered, giving nothing away.
Jonah’s heart began to pound inexplicably. “I don’t know,” he heard himself say. “Maybe.”
Elwood perked up, his gaze sharpening. “Explain that,” he demanded.
Jonah wet his lips while wondering whether Elwood, like everyone else around him, would consider him paranoid for saying what his subconscious prompted him to say.
“I feel like I know something about the weapons, only I can’t remember.” He waited for Elwood to mock him. Instead, the man regarded him with perfect seriousness.
“Do you think your disappearance was an accident, Lieutenant?”
The eerie question spiked Jonah’s adrenaline. He tried to think back, only to suffer the usual debilitating pain that kept all memories at bay. Clapping a hand over his left eye, he returned Elwood’s stare through his right one.
“What kind of question is that?”
Elwood simply looked at him.
“My men would never have left me behind,” Jonah insisted, letting his hand drop.
“And yet, you were left there,” Elwood pointed out gently.
Jonah puzzled over the circumstances, unable to explain them.
“Saul found my tooth,” he recalled, pulling the pendant out of his back pocket. For some reason, he was now carrying it around, like it was some sort of talisman.
Showing it to Elwood, he added, “Someone knocked it out of me. That’s why I can’t remember. That’s when my memory went bad.”
Elwood seemed confused “I thought your memory loss was from PTSD.”
Jonah frowned. “PTS,” he corrected the man. “Who says I have PTSD?”
Again, Elwood just looked at him. “My mistake,” he said on a strange note.
Jonah shook his head. “No, my amnesia is from brain damage. A CT scan showed dead tissue in the prefrontal cortex, right behind my left eye, which is right over my missing tooth. Plus, I remembered something the other night that confirms such a possibility.” He briefly described what he had realized the night he choked Eden, finding it easier to tell to Elwood than his psychiatrist.
Elwood’s horrified expression was tempered with compassion. Jonah found him liking the man more than he had at their previous meeting.
“Ever since that dream,” he added, “I can remember some of my captivity, and the crazy part is I remember not remembering. I had no memory of the op at all. Therefore, I must have lost my memory when I was hit in the face.”
“That must have been why the enemy managed to capture you,” Elwood commented. “You were unconscious or concussed already. Nothing else makes sense.”
Jonah blinked. “That’s true. I hadn’t thought of that. Who knocked me out, if it wasn’t the enemy?”
Elwood’s expression hardened. “You need to remember.” His stern tone, like an order from a superior, had Jonah eyeing him more closely.
Without warning, the agent leaned closer, pitching his voice to barely above a whisper. “What I’m going to tell you needs to stay between the two of us.”
Jonah watched a bead of sweat trek from Elwood’s temple to his double chin. He glanced out the kitchen window to see the teens still hard at work.
“Go ahead.”
“Three hours in advance of your insertion into Carenero, your strike force was still aboard the USS Kearsarge, just north of Curaçao. Someone in the strike force placed a call on the ship’s sat phone. That call went to a cell phone with global positioning in Carenero, Venezuela.”
It was Jonah’s turn to stare. “How do you know that call was from someone in my troop? There’s a huge crew on the Kearsarge.”
“You had that area of the ship to yourselves,” came the predictable answer.
Jonah considered everyone who might have been there, from the operations officer to the boat crew who’d transported the SEALs to their insertion point, to his squad members.
“You’re suggesting a member of my force called ahead to warn the Venezuelans we were coming? That’s absurd.”
Elwood’s jaw tightened, informing Jonah he had said all he was going to say.
“Talk to your teammates,” the agent suggested. “Find out who might have made that call and why. But don’t let on what you know.”
Pushing his chair back, he signaled his intent to leave.
“Lieutenant, if you start to remember more, I want you to call me, first thing.” He laid a business card on the table, even though Jonah still had the original. “Don’t talk to anyone and don’t trust anyone,” Elwood warned, pointing a pudgy finger at him. “Not your wife, your psychiatrist, not even your commander. You call me first, understand?”
“Okay,” Jonah said, deciding he would trust the NCIS agent over anyone else. Following Elwood’s example, he rose to his feet and headed for the door.
A thousand questions vied for articulation, but the agent already seemed to regret telling him about the phone call.
As Jonah escorted him outside, the certainty that he knew something coalesced in him. What was it? Could he possibly know who had placed the call to Venezuela? Did he know who was leaking intel to The Entity, allowing them to steal weapons in advance of the SEALs?
From atop his deck, Jonah watched Special Agent Elwood squeeze into his car and shut himself inside. As the Taurus backed out of the driveway, Jonah could feel his own determination building.
Rather than having spooked him, the agent’s visit filled him with a feeling of invincibility. In Elwood’s opinion—likely an informed one—Jonah’s disappearance wasn’t an accident. Somebody had targeted him. He hadn’t failed the mission after all.
If that was true, then he’d survived something few men could. Wouldn’t it beat all if he could come back from the dead to finger the person responsible?
Chapter 11
Sweating profusely in his T-shirt, Jonah bent double to push the sander over the worn planks. The teens, who’d worked diligently up to about an hour ago, lounged in the Adirondack chairs, chatting. Jonah let them be. The sun beat down on his back. A bead of sweat dripped off the end of his nose. He was dying to take his shirt off, but he didn’t want to scare the kids.
Snapping off the sander, he decided he would jog down the steps and douse himself with the hose.
Miriam looked over at him. “Dad, can we go inside and make sandwiches? Ian’s getting hungry.”
He hadn’t needed to hear anything beyond Dad, which she hadn’t called him since he’d accidentally choked her mother. He would have agreed to practically anything at that momen
t.
“Yeah, sure, if you make me a sandwich, too.”
“Obviously,” she said, in a cheeky manner he’d probably once taken exception to. He realized her tone meant she was feeling comfortable with him.
“Thanks.” He waited until the teens disappeared inside. Then, instead of dousing himself under the hose, he stripped off his T-shirt, thinking he could put it back on when he heard the teens come out again.
As the wind wicked away the sweat on his torso, Jonah closed his eyes, giving thanks for the gift of life he’d been given. Opening them again, he sought the ocean, a sapphire swath stretching as far as the eye could see. The sweetness of creation broke over him, reminding him that, in God, anything seemed possible.
Master Chief’s words from their conversation returned to him: God brought you home for a reason. Put your trust in Him, and remember He works all things for the good of those who love him. All things, Jonah.
Had God spared him so he could expose the traitor who was selling intel to the enemy? It seemed so. More than anything, Jonah longed to flush him out—not only to avenge his year-long captivity, but to prevent more weapons from falling into the hands of ruthless despots bent on propagating terror.
It wasn’t too late to make a difference. With that thought, Jonah flipped the sander back on and continued the grueling work of smoothing splinters and rough patches until the planks felt like silk beneath his touch.
“Dad!”
Miriam’s shout made him realize she’d been calling him for some time. Shutting off the sander, he straightened painfully and craned his neck, recalling belatedly that his chest was bare.
Dismay turned to mortification when he realized the teens weren’t the only ones looking at him. Eden stood on the top step, clutching her water bottle to her chest, her eyes wide with consternation. He hadn’t heard her pull into the driveway.
Well, shoot, he thought, as all three of them stared at him like he was a mutant. Starting toward his T-shirt he’d slung over the railing, Miriam intercepted him, shoving a paper plate at him.
“Thanks,” he said, taking it in one hand and groping for his T-shirt with the other.
Miriam’s gaze skittered over his chest. “No problem,” she muttered.
Unable to put his T-shirt on while holding the sandwich, Jonah dared to look at Eden for her reaction. Her silence spoke volumes. Now that she’d seen what his captives had done to him, would she ever want to touch him again?
Say something, Eden ordered herself.
A vision of Jonah’s back seared her eyeballs and put a chokehold on her vocal cords. She had already guessed he’d been tortured by his captors, but she could never have imagined any one person being the brunt of so much violence.
His torso, puckered with scars of various dimensions, was horrible to behold. They dotted his magnificent chest like a constellation of stars, some still purple and healing, others small and shiny. Her heart wrenched at the sight, unleashing the urge to protect him.
The fervent and unexpected desire to throw her arms around him kept her stock-still and speechless.
At her continued silence, Jonah put his plate down and started putting on his T-shirt.
“Don’t,” she managed.
He stilled and looked over at her.
“You’re covered in sawdust,” she explained. “You’ll want to shower first.”
Just act like everything’s normal. She tore her gaze from him to inspect the deck.
“Wow! You’ve practically stripped this entire half. I’m so impressed.”
His quizzical look told her she was doing the right thing. At least he didn’t look self-conscious anymore.
“There’s just one thing you forgot,” she added, propping a hand on her hips and feigning disappointment.
“What?”
“Sunscreen.” She gestured at Ian, whose neck and forearms were a vivid shade of pink. “Redheads require sunscreen at all times. You could use some yourself, Jonah. You haven’t been in sun like this in months. Why don’t you call it a day and come in and cool off while I run Ian home?”
“I rode my bike,” Ian volunteered, starting toward the stairs.
“Hey.” Jonah kept the boy from bolting. “You did good work today. I expect to see you bright and early Monday morning to finish the job. I’ll pay you then.”
Ian’s look of dismay made Eden’s lips twitch.
“You can use this electric sander,” Jonah added, enticingly. “I’m going to rent a bigger one,” he said to Eden.
“Okay.” With a shrug that bordered on enthusiastic, Ian mumbled a quick goodbye to Miriam and loped down the stairs.
Jonah went to pick up the sander, and the pain that flashed across his face raised a red flag.
“You overdid it,” Eden scolded him. Of course, he’d overdone it. That was Jonah’s modus operandi. He always over achieved.
“Stop everything,” she ordered. “I’ll clean up out here. You go inside and take a shower. Actually—” she deliberated a split second before adding “—I want you to use my tub. You need to soak or you won’t be able to move tonight.”
“I’m fine,” he protested.
She pointed a finger at him, something she wouldn’t have dared do in the past. “Don’t argue with me.” She kept her tone light, but she wasn’t going to let him refuse.
Miriam snickered, then piped up. “I’ll clean up out here. I know where everything goes.”
Eden shot her daughter an astonished look.
“Well, thank you. I will take you up on that.” She crooked her finger at Jonah. “You follow me.”
Marching him through the house, she dropped off her purse and her water bottle and led him to her bedroom. Jonah had kicked off his shoes. He was clutching his T-shirt to his naked chest and looking uncomfortable at the thought of getting anything dirty.
She led him into her bathroom and ran water into the Jacuzzi tub while Jonah stood at the door watching. Conscious of her own sweat soaked, workout attire, she pointed to the laundry hamper in the closet. “You can put your dirty clothes in there.”
He tossed his shirt into the basket. “How was the marathon?”
She focused on his face to keep from gaping at his naked chest.
“Honestly, it wasn’t bad. Keep in mind the patrons are all just weekend warriors. We took it slow from the start.”
Reaching for the Epsom salts she stored under her sink, she grabbed the carton and opened it.
“I’m envious of the shape you’re in,” Jonah admitted as she sprinkled some into the tub.
She could feel his gaze sliding over her as she adjusted the temperature and turned on the jets. A low hum filled the room. The water started to foam.
The desire to do something more for Jonah than just draw his bath had her plucking lavender oil out of the basket on the tub’s edge and adding it to the water. As its soothing fragrance filled the room, Jonah started shucking off his pants, hastening Eden’s departure. Sure, there’d been a time when he’d undressed in front of her without a second thought, but they weren’t back there yet.
Yet?
“Take your time in here.” She headed swiftly for the door and tried to edge past him.
At the last instant, he shot an arm out, blocking her escape. They stood mere inches apart, so close she could smell his familiar scent layered with fresh lumber. One whiff made her head spin.
“I repel you, don’t I?”
The gruff question caught her off guard. “What?”
“I know what I look like. I don’t blame you for running off. It’s hideous.”
His conclusions so dumfounded her all she could do for a second was stare at him. Then, since there was nothing she could say to convince him how wrong he was, she rolled up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
His eyes flared, but then his surprise gave way to a focused intensity that brought her heels swiftly to the floor.
Flustered by her actions, Eden fled the bathroom before Jonah brought
himself to kiss her back. If he did that, she knew she would be a goner. She would fall right into his arms and his bed, precisely as Nina had warned.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she berated herself as she helped herself to Miriam’s shower and washed the sweat of a four-hour workout from her body.
She should not have kissed Jonah. She’d meant to reassure him. Instead, she was afraid she’d revealed her attraction for him.
Once he realized she wanted him, he would corner her when she least expected it, pressing his advantage. And she would give in because, in all honesty, she craved the feel of his arms around her, his weight pressing her down into the bed. Making love had been the one thing in their marriage that had never lost its luster.
“Now you’ve done it,” she muttered. It would be so unfair to Jonah to split with him if they became intimate again. She had to ensure it never happened.
Jonah submersed himself in the big Jacuzzi tub until only his mouth and nose stuck out of the water. With his eyes shut, he envisioned himself in his mother’s womb, an innocent life-form. Pity for the fetus he’d once been rose up in him. The poor little thing had no idea of the hardships that awaited him.
It’s not over yet, said a voice in Jonah’s head.
He mulled it over, taking comfort from the suggestion that happiness and rest would be his one day.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.
The comforting verse returned to him.
But will my wife ever love me again? That was a question to which he did not receive an answer. If his body had truly repulsed her, how could she have kissed him the way she had, so sweetly, so reassuringly?
Replaying the memory of her kiss over and over in his mind, he clung to it like a prophecy.
Soften her heart toward me, Lord.
In the sacred silence of the womb-like tub, Jonah was certain God heard him.
“I kissed him,” Eden confessed to her friend as she laid her purchase, a pair of leggings, on the counter at Nina’s studio, Inspired to Dance.
It was five o’clock. Jonah had slept all afternoon, exhausted from his labors on the deck. The minute he’d awakened, Eden had seized the excuse to run out and pick up something for dinner. Staying alone in the house with him, even with Miriam around, made her feel like a cat on a hot tin roof.
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