by Jo Chambliss
Jonathan, would you stop for diapers on your way home? It’s storming, and I don’t want to take the baby out.
Hours later, when he walked in, he was carrying only his briefcase. Did you get the diapers?
No, I forgot.
His answer lacked any remorse, and there was no offer to go back out for the much-needed item. Will you watch Ari while I go out for them?
Yeah. Give me a minute to take care of something.
At nine pm, he still hadn’t come out of his office. So, I bundled baby Ari up and walked through the single car garage where his Mercedes was parked to reach my car that was parked outside in the rain.
That’s long over, Willa. Forget it.
Returning my focus to the here and now, I remind Ari to behave while I’m gone. “No splashing now. I’ll be right back.”
Thoughts of my uncaring ex haven’t done anything to help my mental state, and it must show on my face. When I clear the hallway on my return to the living room, Chris pins me with his assessing gaze and furrows his brow in concern.
He must have interpreted my expression as one of fear, as he walks over to me and places his hands on my shoulders and then pulls me into his chest.
As Chris holds me, his hand lifts to caress my back. I allow myself to melt even further into him and feel his words vibrate through his chest when he speaks.
God… I would have given anything for encouraging words, an affectionate touch, or even an acknowledgment from Jonathan. Starved for that kind of connection, I could see myself seeking it from Chris, becoming attached.
That thought scares me more than anything, and I force myself from his arms.
With a smile, Chris steps back and asks, “Better now?” I don’t want him to see how much I’m affected by his words and actions, so I only offer a slight nod.
Unsettled by how easily I’m developing feelings for this man that I don’t know, I hold myself back, only going through the motions as he shows me the rest of the house and security. That is until he shows me the loaded shotgun.
Guns don’t scare me, but the thought of needing one does. Yes, we were targeted. Yes, that bastard’s still at large. In my head, I knew that him trying to find us was a possibility, but it wasn’t until facing the need to have a gun for protection that it became real. Chris futilely tries to downplay the danger, saying that I should be ready in case we come under attack from coyotes or bears. Despite his best effort, I know it’s all a crock of bull designed to keep from adding to my fear. It’s the worry in his own eyes that gives him away.
Back in the living room, Chris seats us on the sofa and stares at me for a moment, a sick look on his face. “I’m going to have to leave now.”
Oh. This is it. This is the escape he was hoping to make. I turn around at the sound of Ari singing. She’s going to be devastated to find out that he’s gone, but it’s probably for the best. It’s not good for her to get attached to him. Me either.
He stands up from his seat beside me and hands me a key. I don’t hear his next words, as I’m suddenly scared to death at being left alone here.
Chris hesitates before walking out, but eventually crosses the threshold. After I close and lock the door behind him, I stand there for a while with my forehead resting against the wood. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing there listening, but the silent pause on the other side is long enough that I think Chris has changed his mind about leaving.
He hasn’t, though. Eventually, I hear the loud rumble of the motorcycle starting up and listen intently as the sound fades away.
Dreading having to tell Ari that he’s gone, I stand there for a while longer, only moving when I hear her calling me.
Chapter 7
Chris
After making it through the security gate, I pull into the HQ parking lot with less than five minutes to spare. I put the bike in the empty spot to the left of Devil’s Charger and groan when I see him still sitting behind the wheel. As soon as the bike comes to a stop, he opens his door and climbs out of the sports car.
I pull off my helmet and Devil grins. “You look like shit, man.” Without replying, I put the helmet on the bike seat, which draws his eyes downward. His eyes go wide at the damage to the shiny black dome, and he begins studying the rest of me and the bike.
“Dammit, Fish. What happened?” Devil walks around Black Betty giving her a thorough inspection.
“It’s a long damn story that we don’t have time for right now.”
His eyes continue their assessment, honing in on the damage to the left side of my riding gear. “You’re ok, right?”
Ignoring his question, I gesture toward the building. “Come on, already. If the Commander yells about us being late, I’m blaming your ass.”
Devil and I make it to the meeting room to see that everyone else is already there and seated. I feel out of place being the only man that’s not in uniform. The Commander looks me over with a raised brow.
“Lieutenant, do I need to have Chief Myers look you over?”
“No, sir.”
From my left, Devil chuckles. “It’s Betty that needs a doctor.”
“Asshole,” I mumble under my breath.
All around the table, eyes go wide, and jaws fall open. Even the Commander has a strange look on his face. They all know how much I baby that bike and how much money I’ve sunk into her.
Commander O’Reilly pointedly looks at his watch and back to me. “I’ve got an update coming in four minutes. You’ve got that long to tell us what happened.”
With a groan, I ask, “Is that an order, sir?”
He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m waiting, Lieutenant.” The rest of my team leans forward, waiting to hear what they hope is a juicy and embarrassing story. What they get is something totally different.
By the time I’ve caught them up to the moment I left the cabin, no one in the room is smiling anymore.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. You know, in light of this situation, I wouldn’t hesitate to send another team, but you guys have been training to take down this particular boat for too long to make a switch now.”
“Don’t worry about it, Commander. The sheriff up there is handling things and said he’d be calling in the FBI. I’m not even needed. It was just an unexpected series of events where I was fortunately in the right place to help a kid and her mother.”
A knock sounds at the door, and a petty officer comes in carrying a folder. He passes it to the Commander and exits as quickly as he came.
“Ok. Let’s get this done so the Lieutenant can take care of all three of his ladies.”
“They’re not mine,” I insist.
Commander O’Reilly gives me a look that says he thinks I’m full of shit. Gesturing to my team, he says, “Right, and these guys can’t swim.”
Opening the folder he was given, he glances at the information and looks back up. “The Vlastvuy, a one-hundred-thirty-foot, RINA class, two-hundred-forty-five-ton, superyacht flying under a Maltese flag.” He holds up a large picture of the impressive vessel. “She has dual eighteen-hundred horsepower engines that top out at twenty-one knots and has a three thousand nautical mile range. The Vlastvuy carries a six-man crew and cabins for eight. None of this is news to you. You’ve been studying this vessel for months because we’ve long suspected that she’s bad news.”
O’Reilly closes the folder and taps it on the table. “Well, we’ve just received confirmation of that and a green light to take this bitch down.”
The Commander slides a picture over to me of a non-descript, olive-skinned man. I study it for a moment before passing it around. “Who’s this?” I ask him.
“This is our confirmation. Six weeks ago, the CIA managed to get a man on board the Vlastvuy. His codename is Songbird, so that’s what we’re calling this mission. Songbird has learned the location of three smuggling compartments in the boat. In these compartments, are millions of dollars in African diamonds. Songbird also reports that the diamonds
are to be traded for highly enriched uranium. The seller is a US citizen.”
Several swears can be heard among the group in response to this revelation. None of us in this room like going to war, but we do it because someone has to fight the wolves at the door. We take it personally when the wolves are the very people we put our lives on the line to protect.
The commander continues his briefing, bringing our focus back to the mission once again. “The US only has one enrichment plant in a coastal area, and that’s in Wilmington, North Carolina. The CIA and Naval intelligence agree that is the boat’s likely trajectory.
“We anticipate the trade happening outside the twelve-nautical-mile national waters boundary to lessen the risk of Coast Guard interference. Here’s where things take a tricky turn. Brass wants us to allow the trade to be made before we move in. That’s where the Coast Guard will come in. Operation Songbird will employ this SEAL squad and a crew from the Coast Guard for staggered intercepts. The guardsmen will take the seller on his return to shore while you track the buyer to stage a VBSS maneuver at night. As always, visit, board, search, seizure… and shoot only if necessary.
“If those bastards at the CIA didn’t fuck up their intelligence too bad, the Vlastvuy should reach the coast of North Carolina in forty-six hours. After they make the trade, they’ll need to refuel before crossing the Atlantic again. It’s safe to assume that they’ll use one of the yacht servicing companies that refuel in open water. That narrows down our targets significantly.
“It’s also safe to assume that the crew will avoid going north where Coast Guard and Navy traffic will be heaviest. That leaves two companies to watch, and they’re both in Florida. We should have the company identified as well as a rendezvous point by the time you get underway tomorrow.
“We’re bringing up a Littoral class ship from Mayport for the mission. Tomorrow at 1900 hours, you’ll board her and head toward what is identified to be an appropriate staging area. I want you to be ready to take the Vlastvuy as soon as is feasible.”
Commander O’Reilly looks around at each of us. “Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Lieutenant, I’ll leave it to you then.” The Commander takes his leave, and I start passing out the information in the folder he left behind.
When the Vlastvuy first showed up on our radar, the CIA and Naval intelligence tracked the vessel to the company that brokered the sale. Fortunately, the guy hadn’t taken down the listing yet. That gave us floor plans and dimensions for the boat.
Using that information, we’ve already identified the best possible boarding and entry points. “I hope to hell you guys remember what you studied… we have a test tomorrow.” Even though I joke about it, I’m not worried. We’ve rehearsed this type of ship assault enough that these guys could do it in their sleep.
“We’ll board at the stern launch deck. That’s the best vantage point for Wrench to knock out their radar, satellite, and communications antenna. Skin, Wrench, Judge, and Devil, you’ll be the first team.” Referring to the deck plans, I point to the stern. “Skin, you take point. I want you to board and cover Wrench as he disables the ship’s eyes and ears. Judge and Devil will cover the rear. This first group will secure the bridge.
“The rest of us will cover the living areas and staterooms. Ink, you’re point in my group. Hawk and Bandaid will have the rear.”
Being the medic in the team, it’s no surprise when Bandaid asks. “Are we to locate and secure the uranium?”
“No. Our job is only to secure the boat. Once we have control, we radio the ship who has a team of specialists that will handle the nuclear material. Any other questions?”
No one speaks up. “Ok, meet back here at 1600 hours tomorrow to gear up. Dismissed.” I stand up to gather the scattered papers, but none of my team leaves. “I said you were dismissed. Are you staying to help me clean up after this party?”
“Sit down, Fish,” Bandaid orders. When I refuse, he walks over and faces off with me. With a roll of my eyes, I huff, “Oh, for the love of god,” and flop back down into my chair.
Bandaid commences poking around my stitched-up cheek. Pulling out a penlight, he checks my eyes. “Bandaid, I’ve already been checked out.”
Completely deadpan, he says, “Just humor me. I get so few opportunities to practice.” The rest of the guys laugh at his joke. Everyone knows that when we’re not on missions, Dr. Bowie “Bandaid” Myers volunteers at the base medical facilities.
After checking my eyes, he taps on the roughed-up spots on my jacket. “These clothes armored?”
“Yep.”
“Betty didn’t land on you when you crashed?”
“Nope. I have crash bars that keep her body elevated for just such occasions.”
“You’ll live,” He declares and returns to his seat.
Skin taps his knuckle on the table. “So, what can we do to help your ladies?”
So that’s what they’ve stuck around for. “Look, guys, I appreciate it, but this isn’t my ballgame. I’m glad I was there to save the little girl. It was no skin off my back to let them stay at the cabin, but that’s it.”
Looking around the table, it’s obvious that no one is buying my story. Several of the guys clear their throats and stare back defiantly. “Besides, the sheriff has only had a few hours, and he said he would be contacting the FBI for help. The last thing I need is you hounding me over something that doesn’t involve me.”
From behind me, I hear Devil’s voice. “Two-hundred fourteen dollars for Disney PJs, fish blanket, fish slippers, and a stuffed fish.”
I whip around at his voice. “How the hell do you know that?”
With his signature, evil smile, he waves a long, skinny slip of paper in front of my face. “You dropped your receipt, Fish.”
My team erupts in laughter, and Skin laughs. “Like I said, what can we do to help your ladies?”
Dammit, these bastards win. Turning back around, I drop my head in my hands. “I don’t know. I just want some sleep and to get this mission over with so I can... Hell, I don’t even know what it is I want to do.”
Wrench stands up. “Until you figure it out, here’s what we’re going to do. After we’re done here, I’ll follow you to the Harley shop on Witchduck then give you a lift home. You’ll just have to slum it in your F-150 for a while. Tonight at seven, we’ll throw some meat on the grill at Judge’s house. Everybody cough up twenty bucks, and Skin can do the shopping.”
“Thanks…” Skin groans.
Devil hands over two twenties to Skin. “I’ll cover Fish. You guys haven’t seen Betty yet. I’m sure she’s going to bleed him dry.”
Looking up at the ceiling, I groan.
Less than an hour later, I’ve dropped Betty off at the dealership and gotten the two-thousand-dollar estimate for repairs. By the time I get home, I’m so tired that I don’t even care about the bike anymore. All I want to do is crash.
After a long, hot shower, I’ve barely dried myself off before falling naked into bed.
Five hours later, my ringing phone wakes me up. I briefly consider throwing the device through the window but ultimately decide against it. Dragging my finger across the screen, I answer with my face still half-buried in my pillow, “Hill.”
“Time to get up, Cupcake. Come let me in.”
Cursing the day of his birth, I get up, pull on a pair of boxers, and go open the door for Devil. He looks me over and grins. “Oh, honey. You got all dressed up for me.”
Without answering, I turn and walk back down the hall, giving him the finger over my head. Asshole. Five minutes later, I’m dressed in jeans, t-shirt, Navy pullover, and Nikes. I follow Devil out, and he pushes me to his car. “I can drive myself, you know.”
“Shut up and get in,” is his reply.
Arriving at Judge’s house ten minutes later, I can smell the grill going as soon as I open the Charger’s door. I follow my nose and the sounds of laughter through the gate to the back deck where the rest
of the team is already gathered.
I’m unceremoniously shoved into the nearest chair, and someone plonks a beer in my hands. “Doctor’s orders,” I hear before Bandaid sits down in the chair next to mine. “Feel any better after your nap?”
With a smirk, I shake my head at him and take a long draw from the pilsner. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Tell me about them.”
I let out a long sigh and set the beer down on the table beside me. “Ari is a tiny little thing. She has long, white-blond hair that curls at the ends and pale skin. She’s only four, but that kid’s got stones that puts some SEALs to shame. She took off from that cabin in the middle of the night, barefoot, on the side of a damn mountain, without hesitation to find help for her mother.”
On Bandaid’s face, I read concern for someone so young being in such a dangerous situation, but in equal measure, respect for her bravery is also there.
Leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees, I continue. “After her mother was found, Ari wouldn’t settle down. She kept insisting that I come back to get her. That’s how I was tasked with taking her to the hospital so she’d be there when her mother woke up.”
Remembering Ari’s efforts to take care of me, a smile warms my face. Wanting them to be as impressed with the child as I am, I tell them about how Ari tended to me when I sat on the floor.
“What about the mother?” Bandaid asks.
I look down at my hand and feel her delicate fingers squeezing mine in fear. “She’s as tough as any of us.”
From his perch on the railing, Wrench says, “Go on.” I look up at him to see that all seven of my teammates are standing there listening. “Willa is a single mom that willingly gave herself up to save her child."
“Come on, Fish.” He complains. “We know more about the kid’s stuffed toy than what you’ve told us about her mother.”
“What more do you need to know? Her ability to withstand torture? Ok… The man that took them dressed them up and told Willa that he would let Ari run as long as Willa took his knife. When she stopped counting, he was going after her daughter. She endured longer than her body did. That bastard cut her fifty-two times before she blacked out.”