SEAL Love's Legacy (Silver SEALs Book 1)
Page 8
Luke Sorvay was the only one in a golf shirt, tan slacks, and tennis shoes. He looked like he’d just come from the bar at a country club, though his club cap was backwards.
Mimi saw Garrett’s shocked expression.
“Holy crap,” he said, under his breath. “This better mean we have some good news.”
“Oh yes, we have some very good news, Cap’n,” said Fuzzy. “Tell them, Tanner.”
“We got a ping on her cell. Someone tried to call her. The guys just called me. Joshua has some further info on this location too. The ping came from a location in Oregon, unless it’s a bleeder.” Tanner’s face bore a wide grin like he was a five-year-old losing his first tooth.
“Bleeder?” asked Garrett.
“Bread crumbs. A trail, usually false. But they didn’t stay long, leaving a message, so doesn’t look like a deliberate plant. Someone could be trying to reach her. Part of the crew who took her, or someone she was supposed to meet up with?” Tanner’s happy expression was a welcomed sight.
Fuzzy interrupted. “Except if they took her, they’d know they left her cell behind. And the reason they didn’t take it is because her phone doesn’t have any contact information on them. So I’m not thinking it would not be someone she was supposed to contact within the group.” Fuzzy took a drag on his gnarled cigar and blew the smoke to the ceiling.
Mimi was going to have to keep her distance since cigar smoke gave her a ginormous headache.
“Good point,” said Garrett.
Tanner agreed and said so.
“That makes total sense,” added Joshua.
The two of them approached the table. Garrett inspected what they’d set up, including studying the post-it charts plastered to the walls, brainstormed ideas, and a blow-up of Garrett’s grid with the question marks and blanks they had to fill in.
The variety of equipment fascinated Mimi, as well as the number of highly specialized power cords snaking all over the table and the floor. She also noticed the mounting of the large screen had been done by clumsily directly drilling into the wall and wondered whether there would be a complaint about that.
“So I’m thinking it was Georgette, and I’ll tell you more in a minute. She could be trying to make contact,” said Joshua.
Garrett angled his head and squinted down on her. She nodded without him asking her.
“I think you’re right,” she whispered.
“Does she have your cell number?” he asked.
“She does.”
Garrett’s face reflected his love for this sort of mission, how the action of a joint task force invigorated him, just like she remembered her father had described. As she scanned the men in front, they all had that same level of excitement, showing it in slightly different ways, but all reflecting a positive energy connection between themselves and the desire and confidence to bring success. She could see why they loved it. Why her father could never stop.
“And look at this. I dug up information on the POG group and some sketchy stuff on the kid’s table.” His face showed a frown. He was choosing his words carefully. “Garrett, any reason why this info has to take so long to get to us and why it comes piecemeal?”
Garret and Mimi shared a glance.
“We’ve already talked about this. Noted.”
Fuzzy spoke up. “In defense of the White House, I’ll say that sometimes things slip through. You wouldn’t believe some of the lapses we had in Embassy security. They often err on the side of a big donor or someone who has promised a favor to the administration. We had enemy combatants in some of our meetings overseas, but our ambassador wanted to include them because they were trying to work with them. It’s just a risk assessment.”
“But surely not in the White House—” Joshua began.
“Especially in the White House,” Luke Sorvay barked.
Joshua swore in Spanish.
“Cash is king,” Luke continued. “There might not have been enough time. These events don’t get planned, except for the date, longer than two to three weeks. A lot of juggling goes on. Just happens,” he added as he shrugged.
“If someone wants to get close to the president, being at a harmless prayer breakfast would be a good way to get in. And if they are a big donor, all the easier,” Fuzzy continued.
Mimi felt uneasy with all this. Her impression was that the security, especially security at the White House, was like in a supermax prison. Now she realized that the only persons who felt restricted were those who lived there. For everyone else, ways existed to obtain entry. The First Family carried the burden of that knowledge with them all day long.
She knew it would weigh on Georgette, who was just trying to be a normal teenager.
“In protective detail, we can’t stop every event. We just have to be faster in the response and try to eliminate all the variables. That’s the mission. But it’s never one hundred percent,” said Luke.
“Shit, it’s like a sieve in there,” whispered Cornell Bigelow. “They could be sitting ducks.”
“My friends at Treasury say it’s the same way at the Federal Reserve Banks,” added Luke. “They can’t stop the theft, but they can make it take a long time to get out and hope that one of the checkpoints will discover the theft of cash or securities.”
“Or increase the number of insiders needed to pull it off,” grumbled Fuzzy.
Garrett was nodding. “So, Josh, there’s your answer. Some butt-covering going on. Whomever was assigned to her team may not have done the job like he was supposed to, and they aren’t willing to come clean about it.”
“Gotcha. Well, here’s what I got on POG, and actually I got more out of the internet than anywhere else. After the Texas shut-down, Nelson Bales and his group,”—Joshua posted the picture of a handsome middle-aged man, looking more like a movie star than a pastor, on the large screen—“moved to a town outside of Klamath Falls. They’ve kept a pretty low profile there. Stayed off social media, except for some goodwill doing during the recent Oregon and California fires. Keeping their noses clean, or so it seems.”
Joshua flipped several images across the screen of the group handing out food, clothing, furniture, and other things, plus setting up soup kitchens and donating fresh produce.
“They live in a secluded little valley—and you’re gonna love this. Used to be a terrorist training camp some of your buddies on Team 3 shut down a few years ago. Property went up for auction after everyone either left the country or went to prison.”
Pictures continued flashing on the screen. Views of well-tended gardens and greenhouses, well-stocked kitchens, and happy workers with big smiles on their faces repeated one by one until the collage of goodwill gestures became overwhelming.
“You got all this on the internet? That doesn’t sound like they have kept a low profile,” said Tanner.
“Not from their site. I searched the group and found most of these from articles written about them in local online papers, or joint partners when there were donations being asked for fire victims. They partnered with lots of groups, even Red Cross, police and fire volunteers, in a supportive role, of course,” he answered.
“Are you impressed yet, Garrett?” chortled Fuzzy.
“I’m beginning to think you guys do better without me. This is an excellent start. Way more than I had anticipated. Now, let’s not get blindsided or reach any hasty conclusion, though. We gotta keep an open mind and not rule out anything,” Garrett said with pride.
The group agreed. Mimi felt hope spring in her heart they might be able to pull together a rescue plan, and soon.
The hour-long meeting left Mimi exhausted. As they were wrapping up, she cleared the table of the snack plates, chips bags, and dirty dishes, taking a big bag outside to the trash bin in the garage. On the way back, she bumped into Garrett.
“You don’t have to do this cleanup, Mimi. Let the guys do some of it.”
She smiled back at his face, showing some of the softness she’d seen earlier today.
He hit his chest like she’d just shot him with an arrow.
She shrugged and slipped past him. Brushing against his side in the narrow space to get to the doorway sent a sizzle to places she’d forgotten about.
As she let the door close behind, she heard him whisper, “Thanks.”
At three-thirty Mimi received a text message. Her body was tired, and she rolled over when the phone light came on, unable to bring herself to get up. But when it happened a second time, she sat up, suddenly alert, and realized she’d missed the first opportunity. She read the message.
Help me!
She stared down at the screen with the unknown phone number then texted back, Can you talk? Is this Georgette?
No and yes. I can text but not long.
Mimi ripped herself out of bed, grabbed the phone and dashed into Garrett’s bedroom without knocking. Startled, he came to his feet immediately as she showed him the phone.
In his big hands, the screen lit up again.
Tried calling. Help me escape.
Garrett whispered, “Ask her where she is. How can we contact her other than text?”
Mimi did so. They got the answer.
Somewhere in Oregon. The People Farm. I’m watched. Sorr—
The communication stopped. Several times, Mimi tried to get a response.
“Should I call her?”
“She said not to. Don’t want to tip them she’s trying to reach out to you.”
Mimi then noticed he was wearing his drawstring pajama bottoms in red, white, and blue flags.
But. He. Was. Shirtless.
His hair was disheveled, going in several directions, his beard uncombed, and his neck and cheeks unshaven with salt and pepper stubble showing. His massive shoulders and upper arms formed a mountainous protective barrier between her body and the bed from which he’d just come.
His eyes began to roam down her long-sleeved nightie that she’d unbuttoned quite low and was dangerously gaping. Her legs and thighs were protected from his gaze by the white cotton fabric, but it wasn’t flannel. It was fairly see-through. And her hair was thrashing around her face and neck like a wild horse’s mane. She could see the view wasn’t unpleasant to him.
Then, just as fast as the spark came, it died. His eyes cooled. He looked to the side and clenched the fist not holding her cell, extending the phone back to her.
“We’re gonna have to wait until she messages again. She knows you’re willing to talk. Now that she has someone to communicate with, she’s going to call back, unless this is a hoax,” he whispered. Toward the end of his sentence his eyes softened again as he quickly snuck a peek at her lips.
“Even if it is a hoax, she—or whomever—will call back.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” he murmured back carefully.
But Mimi knew exactly what he was thinking, and she was right there with him.
She pushed the phone back to him. “I think it would be better if you kept it. I nearly didn’t wake up the first time she texted me. I don’t trust myself.”
Their fingers touched around the phone. “I’d offer to keep you company, or perhaps you could stay here, and I’d make sure you woke up, but then, I don’t trust myself, either.”
His eyes drew her in. Something lonely and long-overdue brewed there. Her heart began to race, sending lightning throughout her chest, her midriff, her thighs, and every place in between. Her desire for him had begun to burn in ways she could not ignore any longer.
He was looking at her mouth. Their faces got closer and closer until his lips brushed across hers and then stopped, pulling slowly away.
She knew she made the choice that would keep her up all night. She didn’t follow him but allowed them to part. Still, she had a pretty good notion that her tight nipples had seared a molten hole through her nightgown into his bare chest. Two of his fingers brushed down the side of her thigh as they parted.
It wasn’t a wave. It was a greeting and a registration that when she was ready, he would be there.
She quivered, licking her lips.
Suddenly, his arms surrounded her, pulling her to his chest, devouring her lips, searching with his tongue for the treasure they both wanted.
And then it was over.
He abruptly turned, his bare back as beautiful as his front, his scars and tats shining in the moonlight. His strong shoulders reflected the burdens he’d silently carried for so many years. Alone.
He was denying himself again.
And she knew it was the smart thing to do to let him do it a little longer.
“Thank you, Garrett. I’ll see you in the morning,” she whispered.
She resisted the urge to touch him and just slipped away, out of the room, closing his bedroom door behind her.
The moon kept her up until dawn. The taste of his mouth on hers left her heart racing and the bones of her body ache. She tried to dream but gave up falling asleep. Instead, she replayed visions of make-believe, of what it would feel like to have Garrett’s powerful body pleasure her. She knew that she could deliver the same intensity right back.
And rock his world.
Chapter 9
Garrett smelled bacon and eggs cooking downstairs. As he walked past Mimi’s room, he noticed her door was open, bed made, and room straightened, like a trooper. He heard voices and realized the boy scouts were here to drop things off he’d requested. Mimi was making them help her in the kitchen. The domesticity of it all gave him a warm glow.
All the other bedroom doors were closed, which meant some of his team had a little too much to drink the night before. Fuzzy was always the drink master in any group he’d worked with where excessive alcohol was involved.
He banged on the cop’s door. When he repeated the blows, he finally got a muffled answer.
“Give me ten more,” Fuzzy barked, obviously from under a pillow.
Garrett found the door locked. “Fuzzy, you open this door, or I’ll bust through.”
He heard grumbling. The floor vibrated as if a small herd of baby buffalo stampeded on the other side. Fuzzy appeared, his face red and sweaty, his graying hair springing out to the sides like a clown. The room smelled of farts and body odor. Garrett was disgusted at the condition of one of his most respected long-time friends.
“Sorry, Garrett. That sonofabitch from Louisiana can sure put it down. Looks like a square peg but his tolerance is huge.”
“Duly noted.” Garrett stared into Fuzzy’s red rheumy eyes. “You look like you’re twenty years older than you are. A man of contradictions. Smoke cigars but you run. You know the evils of alcohol, but you can drink any of us under the table—”
“Except for Luke.”
“Okay, okay. Not arguing. But Fuzzy, I need you here one hundred percent. There’s a lot riding on it. I got to have you fit and thinking ahead of me. I can’t be dragging your ass to the table.”
“You don’t have to, Garrett.”
“Next time you don’t wake up or you ask for another ten minutes of snooze time, you’re off the team. I’m pissed and have a right to be. We got a young woman in harm’s way and we’re the guys who were hired to get her back. Now, get yourself presentable and get your ass downstairs.”
“Yessir. It won’t happen again.”
Garrett banged on the room Joshua and Tanner shared. Tanner appeared, showered and in his underwear. “Got it. We’ll be right down. Josh is in the shower.”
Before he could get to Cornell and Luke’s room, both men stepped into the hallway and ran ahead of him downstairs to their breakfast.
“Understand Fuzzy tried to outdo you, you Cajun freak,” Garrett yelled to Luke’s backside.
“In his dreams. My mama said she used to give me alcohol as a babe to get me to sleep. I was more familiar with the spirits than my mom’s titty juice.”
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��Do him a favor and don’t tempt him again. He’s on probation with that stunt.”
“Roger that, Garrett. No problems here.”
Mimi had arranged a buffet on the kitchen countertop, since the dining table was temporarily overloaded with electronic equipment. He was overwhelmed at the ease with which she moved amongst the men, and how they accepted her in return.
He knew she sensed him standing in the doorway, taking it all in, and she refused to look at him. But she blushed, which was nicer still.
He hadn’t forgotten how soft her lips felt, how the smell of her hair and body invited him to press against hers, and how her hot young flesh quivered under his fingers. But he knew these were totally inappropriate thoughts, yet he couldn’t stop himself. She wasn’t asking anything from him, either. But he was going to have to apologize.
It was something he rarely needed to do.
The boy scouts had already eaten several of the fresh biscuits she’d made. A timer went off and she scurried to the oven with red mitts on both hands, pulling out a second tray.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven, Mimi. I expected someone would do a McDonald’s run and if I was lucky, some Starbuck’s, but this, this out of this world!” Joshua said in his thick Latino voice. He gave her a peck on the cheek.
“Why, thank you, kind sir!” she mimicked, patting him on the side of his left cheek with her red oven mitt.
She chanced a glance at Garrett who didn’t try to stifle the smile that had bisected his face. Her eyes were firm and honest, unafraid. Garrett knew that her strength was just as attractive as the way she felt under his touch.
“Help yourself, Garrett,” she challenged. “The plates are there, and these biscuits are only good steamy and hot.” She followed the comment with a wink and he took all the meaning he could stand from it.
“Mimi, you’re unbelievable. I never expected this,” he said. “You’re making my day.”
“Good.” She turned her back and dumped the hot tray into the sink, removed the red apron and then washed her hands.
She’d worn jeans and a red plaid flannel shirt. But she was barefoot with painted red toenails. She was back to putting her hair up, but this time wore a red bandana that tied in floppy red ears atop her head. He couldn’t help but watch her hips as she sashayed to the side next to Luke, serving up some eggs and grabbing a hot biscuit.