A SEAL's Consent (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 4)

by Cora Seton

  For now, she’d enjoy her pregnancy. Her friends.

  Her home.

  And she’d tell Jericho the truth, expecting nothing.

  Hoping for everything.

  Savannah cut down a corridor that led through the building, sure that somewhere there had to be a back entrance through which she could slip away. Renata’s crew could try to catch up—but she wouldn’t wait for them.

  But as she rounded the corner a man grabbed her elbow.

  “Savannah Edwards? Would you come with me a minute?”

  After chatting with Donovan and Jackie long into the night, getting to bed at half past two and waking up again before seven to head back home, Jericho was exhausted, but instead of driving straight back to Westfield, he and Kara had decided to go directly to their parents’ house. When Jericho pulled into their driveway, he steeled himself to conduct yet another confrontation while being filmed, but when he turned to face the camera crew, he realized Craig had fallen asleep on the long ride.

  “Go,” Byron mouthed.

  Jericho didn’t wait for him to change his mind, or for Craig to wake up. He and Kara slipped out of the truck as quietly as they could and hurried up the walk.

  Jericho’s parents didn’t bother to hide their surprise when they answered the door.

  “Come in,” their mother said, but her tone wasn’t exactly inviting. She knew something was up, Jericho thought. Something she wouldn’t like.

  When they were all seated in the living room, his father cleared his throat. “What can we do for the two of you?”

  “We just went to visit Donovan,” Kara said bluntly.

  “We thought it was about time,” Jericho added.

  His mother pursed her lips and his father swallowed. Neither of them said a word.

  “Did you realize both of us thought Donovan was paralyzed?” Jericho asked.

  “Paralyzed?” his mother scoffed, animated again. “Why would you think that?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?” Kara said. “We saw him fall. Saw him lying there lifeless. And you said he was too hurt to come see us anymore.”

  “I never said he was paralyzed.”

  “He was hurt badly,” their father put in. “Needed a great many operations. It was easier for your aunt and uncle to move near a city so Donovan could get the care he needed.”

  “We’ve got cities in Montana,” Jericho pointed out. “We think there’s another reason they moved.” He didn’t feel like playing any more games, and he wasn’t interested in finding out how far his parents were prepared to go to cover their tracks.

  “There’s no other—” his mother began.

  “You were drunk. All of you. And you didn’t even call an ambulance when Donovan fell,” Jericho said before his sister could. He knew whoever brought it up first would bear the brunt of the consequences and he didn’t want it to be her.

  “Jericho Randall Cook, you watch your mouth. Of course we did.” His mother stood up, two ugly splotches of red coloring her cheeks.

  “Not at first. Not for hours.”

  “I saw you. I know,” Kara said before either parent could deny it.

  Their mother’s face fell.

  “Mary, sit down,” his father said tersely. “Yes, we’d had a few. That wasn’t a crime. Not in our own home.”

  Jericho’s mother sat down with a thump.

  “We weren’t drunk,” his father went on. “Just—tipsy. It’s not like we went out to a bar and drove home under the influence. All we did was play cards with my brother and his wife. Have a few laughs. We all worked hard, didn’t we?”

  Jericho nodded. “You did. But that doesn’t change what happened.”

  “It seemed safe to let you watch the others,” his father said. “You have to realize that. You were eleven. Tall for your age. Kept your sister and your cousin in line. What was the harm of letting you play outdoors while we played a hand or two? If you had any problems you’d come get us.” He shrugged. “Seemed sensible. Until the accident.”

  “Donovan fell. He was hurt. You should have called for an ambulance.”

  Jericho’s father heaved a sigh. His mother was studying her hands in her lap. “That’s what we wanted to do. But Chris said no. He wanted to sober up first. Donovan was breathing. He was resting—”

  “He was unconscious,” Jericho asserted.

  “You’re right,” his father said helplessly. “He was unconscious, but my brother wouldn’t listen. Just a little while, that’s what he said. He needed to sober up before the ambulance came. He was afraid. He didn’t want to lose Donovan. Didn’t want Social Services to come and take his child away. Your mother and I didn’t know what to do. What if they took you away, too?” he demanded. “We’d all heard stories about foster care. What kind of father would allow his child to be put in danger that way? As soon as it happened we changed our ways. You know that. Cut back on the drinking. Watched you more carefully. Hell, your mom has us going to those AA meetings now. You can’t say we didn’t own up to our part in the problem and change. Because we did.”

  “What about Aunt Patty and Uncle Chris?” Jericho challenged him.

  His father leaned back, defeated. “It was harder for them. They didn’t stop. We fought about it, believe you me.”

  “So you let them move away?” Kara asked softly.

  Their mother looked up. “Let them? Fought them, more like it. Begged them to stay. Begged them to see reason.”

  “You let them take Donovan, after they didn’t take him to the hospital.”

  “They got him there. Maybe an hour or two late, but—”

  “It was longer than that. What if there had been internal bleeding? What if he’d died to protect the four of you?” Kara demanded.

  “We told you, we were afraid of you being taken away—all of you!” his mother protested.

  Jericho shook his head in disbelief. “So you risked his life?”

  “Who’s fault was that?” his father thundered suddenly.

  “Dan—” Jericho’s mother put a restraining hand on his arm, but his father lurched to his feet.

  “No—if we’re having it out, let’s really have it out. Whose fault was it he fell? What kind of eleven-year-old pushes his cousin—”

  “I pushed him,” Kara cried out, rising to her feet, too. “I pushed him, Dad. Not Jericho. I mean, I pushed Jericho—I knocked him over. He bumped Donovan and Donovan fell. It wasn’t Jericho’s fault!”

  “But—” Suddenly their father looked every one of his fifty-five years.

  “I lied, all right? I lied when it happened and I’ve been lying ever since. I thought you would stop loving me if I told you the truth, the way you stopped loving Jericho!”

  Their father gaped at her. “I—I didn’t—I—”

  “Didn’t you?” Kara demanded.

  Their father’s chest heaved. A moment later, he turned and strode from the room. They heard the back door slam.

  “See what you’ve done?” their mother hissed at them and went after him.

  When they were alone, Jericho faced his sister.

  “That went well,” Kara said.

  “Tell my mother I’m not interested,” Savannah said, twisting her arm out of the man’s grasp.

  He chuckled, a response that stopped her in her tracks. An older African-American man with gray strands in his hair, he was impeccably dressed in pressed pants, a button-down shirt and a blazer. Had he been in the audience? She wasn’t sure.

  “I’ll be sure to do that if I ever meet her,” the man said. “I’m Simon Brashear. I’m with the Sunwest Group. We’re a development company with a strong interest in sustainable building and remodeling. We’ve been watching Base Camp, and were hoping to start a dialog.”

  “Oh.” Savannah could feel a blush staining her cheeks. “You want an introduction to Jericho and the rest of the guys.”

  “Eventually. We thought we’d start with you,” Simon said. “You work with Jericho on the energy grid, right? We’r
e hoping you can answer a few questions.”

  “I can try,” she said with an anxious glance over her shoulder. “But really Jericho’s the one you want to talk to.”

  “Jericho’s not here,” Simon reminded her. He began to walk toward the exit and Savannah kept pace with him, happy to leave the building before she was caught by either her mother or the press. “Rather than flying him out, I wonder if you have time to come take a look at a property we’re considering? See what your opinion is. Later we can video chat with Jericho, too. How long will you be in San Mateo?”

  “I leave tomorrow,” Savannah said.

  Simon’s face fell. “Oh. Well, I’m sure you’ll want to spend what time you have with your family.”

  “Not really,” she said candidly. “How about we take a look first thing in the morning?” Her flight didn’t leave until the afternoon.

  Simon brightened. “Absolutely. Here’s my card. I’ve written the site’s address on the back. Meet you there at ten?”

  “Sounds perfect.” Savannah said her goodbyes and hurried to find her rental car before her mother could catch up. Jericho would be pleased. He wouldn’t have to use any extra fuel to fly out since she was here already, and she knew he wanted the work. As she hustled through the parking lot, Savannah wondered how Jericho would handle jobs like this. He’d be tempted to put his knowledge to use wherever it was needed, but how was that any different than her flying back and forth to meet with Redding if he ended up having projects around the country?

  She tried to think how Jericho would answer and had to grin. Research. That’s where he’d start; he was always big on research. First he’d try to do away with travel altogether, perhaps by partnering with a local company to do the boots on the ground type work. If traveling became necessary, he’d use the most sensible approach. He might even turn away a job if he didn’t think he could pursue it in a way that wasn’t deleterious for the environment. “I’m not the only one who can rig up a solar array,” she could almost hear him say. That was Jericho all over: not stuffy or stuck-up even if he had the right to be.

  That was the man she loved. One who thought about the big picture, even if it wasn’t convenient for their own small lives. A man who had principles and held on to them.

  The father of her child.

  That thought stuck with her the next day as she paced the length and breadth of Brashear’s property, trailed by the camera crew who’d caught up with her at her hotel, unfortunately. She’d managed to call up all kinds of information about Base Camp, the siting of the houses and the various elements of the green power system she’d helped Jericho build. Jericho’s values had already become hers. Was the same true the other way around?

  Was there any hope for them at all?

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  When Jericho finally made it home to Westfield, he pulled into the driveway that led to the manor rather than parking down near Base Camp. He couldn’t wait another minute to see Savannah, and he hoped she was home from California. After witnessing the heartache and pain that both sides of his family had endured for so many years, he’d decided he didn’t want to waste any more time arguing with her. He wanted to make her his wife. Savannah was a kind, generous, loving woman with a goal that was beautiful and important to her. Only one aspect of it clashed with his ideals. Surely there was a way around that.

  Trailed by Byron and Craig, who weren’t speaking to each other after Craig had woken and realized he’d missed Jericho and Kara’s confrontation with their parents, he opened the manor’s front door when he found it unlocked, and stepped right into the entryway, expecting to find the women at their various pursuits. But inside the house was strangely quiet. He walked quickly through the first floor, but no one was in the front parlor or the kitchen, or the large ballroom they rarely used. He climbed up the staircase to the second story, but he knew these rooms were reserved for guests, and there weren’t any at the manor at the moment. He climbed to the third floor more tentatively, the camera crew still following.

  “Savannah?” he called.

  No one answered, but just as he was about to turn around, a choked sound brought him rushing up the final steps.

  “Savannah?” he called again when he reached the landing. Three of the four doors to the bedrooms on this level were open and a quick look into each of them showed them to be empty. He knocked on the fourth door, and when he got no answer, he slowly turned the handle.

  “Riley?” Jericho rushed into the room when he saw Riley’s prone form draped across the bed. The old memory of Donovan’s lifeless body flashed into his mind, but he quickly shook it off and when he got close, he saw that Riley was breathing. Sobbing, actually, lying on her side, her arms clutched over her middle, her knees curled up nearly to her chin. She was crying in great, aching gasps that made Jericho brace for the worst.

  He sat down on the bed beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to get Boone? Do you need to see a doctor?”

  She only cried harder, and Jericho, not knowing what else to do, took her hand and held it. Her fingernails dug into his skin, but he figured he could bear a little bit of the pain she obviously felt.

  “Riley, what happened?”

  “I lost… I lost the baby,” she cried.

  Jericho scooped her into his arms, wanting to take away all the anguish he heard in her voice. He hadn’t known Riley was pregnant. Several weeks ago, she and Boone had gone to the doctor. The last he’d heard, they were waiting for the results of the tests. A glance toward the crew told him they were as surprised as he was.

  “Does Boone know?” His friend should be the one here. He knew Boone would do anything for Riley.

  “Yes,” Riley sobbed. “But he doesn’t know—he doesn’t—I haven’t told him—”

  Jericho rocked her, not knowing what else to do. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” He didn’t have any words to console her. All he could do was be here for her, but he wished to God there was action he could take. It seemed to him the worst pain in the world was never physical; it was the pain people felt in their hearts. And those were the wounds hardest to heal, too.

  No wonder they all kept secrets and held themselves apart from one another.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about—a child who never hurt anyone—”

  Riley, whose sobs had been subsiding, looked up sharply, pushed away from him, scrambled out of his lap and right off the bed. “You know what it’s like?” she cried, her voice rising to a shriek. “You know? You haven’t lost anyone! Your baby’s still alive!”

  She dashed from the room, leaving Jericho speechless—the damn cameras still trained on him.

  His baby?

  His—?

  His mind flashed to making love to Savannah in the Russells’ bathroom—taking a chance because she’d said she was on the Pill. Flashed to the way she’d pushed him away ever since.

  Could she be—?

  He thought about her trips to Alice Reed’s place.

  About the way she’d tried to tell him something the day they’d babysat at Crescent Hall.

  Was she—?

  Pregnant?

  Was Savannah pregnant?

  “Avery? Riley? Anyone home?”

  Jericho jerked when he heard Savannah’s voice on the landing. He hadn’t heard steps on the stairs, but she was just outside the door. Savannah—the woman who’d lied to him.

  The woman who was carrying his child.

  Nausea climbed into his throat, choking him with a claustrophobic feeling that rang in his ears like bombs falling on a far-off warzone.

  His child.

  “Riley? That you?” Savannah opened the door and came face-to-face with him. Her eyes widened. “Jericho? What are you doing—?”

  “You’re pregnant?” The words came out far harsher than he’d intended, but then he had no idea what he’d meant to say. The film crew was still capturi
ng all of this. He couldn’t stand it—couldn’t do this—

  He knew it was true before she even answered. She was carrying his child. A child he could never protect. A child who could get hurt—or paralyzed—or killed—any number of ways, no matter what he did to protect it.

  Savannah’s mouth dropped open. “How—?” She stopped herself. Took a breath and nodded. “Yes, I’m pregnant.”

  Jericho shook his head. It couldn’t be true; none of this could be true. He saw Donovan’s body on the grass again, watched the bombs fall in Yemen. “No,” he said. “No—”

  “Jericho, I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just—”

  “You said you were on the Pill.”

  “I was!”

  “You said you were safe!”

  “I was on the Pill. I didn’t miss a single day—I checked afterward. I don’t know how it happened. It just—happened.” She had reached her hands toward him. She was begging him to understand.

  But Jericho didn’t understand. He didn’t know how any of this could have happened when he’d worked so hard to make sure it didn’t. He’d never taken that chance before with another woman. Had always used condoms even if they were on the Pill. He’d fucked up once.

  Once.

  “I can’t—” he said. “You know that. I can’t—”

  Savannah, unshed tears glinting in her eyes, nodded. “I know,” she said softly.

  She stepped back, hugging her arms over her chest like Riley had just minutes earlier. Protecting her heart, Jericho realized. Holding in the pain.

  Damn it. He’d never wanted to cause her pain.

  But a child—

  He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t.

  “I can’t be here.” He pushed past her in two long strides, pushed through the door and pounded down the two flights of stairs and out the front door. He couldn’t breathe—not even outside. He needed to get away—far away. From the sound of Donovan’s body hitting the ground, the silence at the end of the phone line back in Yemen—the sound of Savannah’s tears.

  Jericho began to run.

  “I’m sorry,” Riley said, slinking out of Avery’s bedroom to meet Savannah in the hall, tears slipping down her face. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to spill the beans.”