“She’s not very eager to leave Alex for any length of time. She even worries when I’m watching him. If I can get her out of the house to go to the beauty shop and have her hair done, a facial, a manicure and pedicure, then take her out to dinner…” James fell silent when she shook her head.
“You need to pry her out of San Diego. If we get someone really dependable to babysit, someone she can’t argue isn’t qualified to care for Alex, she won’t have an excuse not to go.”
“Who would that be?” he asked.
“Angela Melzoni. She’s a registered nurse. And she works at the Balboa Med Center. She cared for Brett Weaver when he was in a coma.” She rattled off the woman’s number. “She’d be perfect. She was also dating one of the team for a while, but I don’t think they’re together any longer. Some of the wives will wander over and visit and play with Alex too, to give Angela a break.”
He wrote down the number. “Then there’s no guarantee she’ll do it.”
“You’ll have to give her a couple of weeks’ notice, but I’m sure she will. I’d surprise Marsha with the makeover a week or so before, so she’s feeling all feminine and pampered. Then make arrangements to go somewhere out of town with her the following week. And on the off chance Angela can’t do it, give me a call. I’ll work with all the other wives, and we’ll figure something out.”
“Roger that.” He nodded. “I appreciate it.”
Trish laid her napkin atop the remnants of her meal, picked up her soft drink, and sipped it through the straw. “I think it’s great you’re doing this for her, by the way.”
Did he need to confess it was an act of desperation? “Marsha needs to decompress. I do too, and she can’t do it at home. Alex is doing much better. We just have to monitor him closely. But she rarely leaves the house. Rarely talks to the friends she used to speak to every day. It was an adjustment with the baby. She hadn’t really recovered from the birth when the break-in happened.”
“You’re doing counseling?”
“Yes.” Uncomfortable with discussing the personal aspects of their treatment, James motioned to the remnants of her food. “Would you like me to do away with that?”
“Sure.” She bundled up what was left of her sandwich and handed it to him. He tossed it in the trash with his own.
“I wish I could say it was only going to take a makeover and a trip to get her back on track, but it won’t. She’ll have to make a conscious decision that she wants to recover before it can happen,” Trish said.
“I know. I understand why she hasn’t bounced back. I had my work to come back to. She had more stress with a special needs baby to care for.”
Trish leaned forward a frown worrying her brow. “They tried to kill Alex, and they tried to kill you. The two most important people in her world. That alone would be enough to leave her with lasting issues. I know it would me. And all the hormonal issues that go along with trying to have a baby, then delivering one, probably added to it as well.”
He hadn’t thought of that. Could post and prenatal hormones be affecting her recovery? He’d ask the doctor about that the next time he spoke to him. “I appreciate your taking time to come here and help me with all this.” He leaned back in his seat. “I’ve discovered how much pressure you ladies are under while we’re deployed or injured. Marsha stood by me while I healed and cared for Alex, too. I want to do the same for her.”
“Family and friends help. Marsha’s closed herself off since Alex’s birth. I’ll put out the word, and some of the ladies can swing by and visit or call to check on her more often.”
“I think that would be a good idea. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this other stuff top secret until I get all the plans cemented.”
“Of course, Captain.” Trish rose. “I have several stops to make on the way back to the office. I better get started.”
James rose, walked her to the door and opened it for her. He could get everything arranged, but how was he going to get Marsha to the appointments? He’d figure it out. Trish had helped enough.
“If you need anything else, Captain, don’t hesitate to call,” Trish said, offering her hand.
He shook it briefly. “I will. Thank you.”
She disappeared down the hall toward the front entrance, her steps purposeful and quick.
Seaman Crouch spoke from his desk. “You have a meeting with Admiral Clarence at two, sir.”
“Thanks. Buzz me ten minutes before the meeting. I have some phone calls to make.” He couldn’t afford to be late. He only had twenty minutes of the Admiral’s time.
“Yes, sir.”
Back at his desk, James checked his email, answered a couple of messages that couldn’t wait and paused to scan the rest before closing the program. He noticed the heading of the mission in Iraq Flash had used before and opened the message. Flash had attached another group of videos and a brief message. James opened each video and scanned them quickly. More fuel for the meeting he was about to attend. His telephone calls were going to have to wait. When he got to the end of the video Flash had made of himself, James pumped the air. “I have no one else I can reach out to, sir. So, I’m trusting you’ll do the right thing,” Flash said.
Do the right thing. He’d already decided what that would be.
NCIS would step up to the plate if they had Admiral Clarence on their ass. And maybe the admiral would have some ideas about how they could save Flash’s career, too.
Thirty minutes later, before Crouch could buzz him, he walked out of his office with a folder of printed reports and a thumb-drive filled with all the info Flash had fed him. He left the building, got into his car and drove the half mile to Admiral Clarence’s office.
The two-story complex was structured much like the one he’d just left. The halls were a little wider and the offices a little more spacious, but the complex itself was still military-issue, with thick industrial tile over the concrete slab floor, and serviceable military-issue furniture. The only difference was the soundproofing in the walls between the offices. This place was quiet.
James signed in with Admiral Clarence’s administrative assistant, Ensign Winchester, and took a seat. Ten minutes passed, and for the first time in a long while, James found himself growing nervous. When Admiral Clarence opened the door and motioned him in, he rose to attention and walked forward.
Clarence stood about five foot nine, four inches shorter than James’s six-one, but his bearing and the sheer force of his commanding personality seemed to fill a room. His shock of iron gray hair fell across his forehead, though the sides were cut short. He focused on James with a slight frown.
The interior of the office, decorated much like his own, contained a heavy desk, a large bookcase, and a couple of extra chairs. A framed copy of the Pledge of Allegiance done in some kind of needlework with a flag design at the top hung on one wall. Next to it was a large Trident with the Teams’ slogan ‘The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday.’ He paused to admire both pieces.
“My wife does cross-stitch. She made those for me when I was promoted to this position two years ago.”
“They’re very nice, sir.”
“Thank you. Now what can I do for you, Captain?”
James offered him the file and the flash drive. Drawing a deep breath, he explained the situation and the files Flash had sent him.
Admiral Clarence moved around his desk and took a seat. His jaw worked as he listened.
“I’ve compiled signed affidavits from Captain Morrow and Lieutenant J.G. Carney’s teammates about Rick Dobson and Agent Gilbert’s visit to the base in Iraq. Captain Morrow spoke to them in his office about their plans. They outlined part of what they needed at that time. They followed through with Lieutenant Carney, but not with me, so his orders were not amended. But Carney says he received a packet of orders and put them in a safety deposit box here in San Diego.”
“Damn it,” Clarence breathed.
“I’ve also copied all the video files to the flash drive, and for
warded all the emails he’s sent me to you. I’ve done the same for NCIS.”
“And what have they done?”
“I’ve detailed my conversation with them for you as well. They say they are only interested in the AWOL charge.”
Admiral Clarence’s brows rose and his jaw hardened. “What do you think that’s all about?”
“I think they’re waiting for the FBI to do their job. If they have an agent who’s gone off the reservation, they’re not going to reach out to another federal organization to investigate. But NCIS can’t bring Carney in without exposing him to retaliation from Gilbert and the cartel. It’s become a Catch-22 situation, sir.”
“Leaving your man twisting in the wind.”
“Yes, sir. I have spoken in depth with Carney’s commanding officer, and his teammates. They all believe that he was acting in good faith with Dobson and Gilbert. They’ve all said he would not abandon his post. He’s had an exemplary record under my command, sir. I don’t believe he would, either.”
“What do you propose we do, Captain?”
“We need to get the AWOL charge amended if we can. Initiate orders where he is acting in concert with NCIS so they can enter the investigation through the back door he’s created.”
“But we don’t know where he is, and neither does NCIS.”
James moistened his lips. He’d spent the ten minutes waiting to see the Admiral, debating whether or not to share Flash’s message with anyone. “Flash reached out to me today, saying he wants to meet.”
“Tell me you haven’t notified NCIS,” Admiral Clarence demanded.
“No, sir. I wanted to wait until I’d met with you.”
“Good. Where does he want to meet?”
“Las Vegas. In two weeks.”
Sam eased up to the bathroom doorway and peeked around the edge to check on Joy. Joy played in the bathtub, her plastic mermaid doll in one hand and Barbie in the other. Instead of being upset about her Barbie’s hair change, she’d wanted to turn her into a mermaid with technicolor locks.
Joy shoved Barbie under the water and brought her back up onto the edge of the tub. She spoke for Barbie. “I can dive deeper than you.” In her Mermaid voice, Joy disagreed, “No you can’t. I’m a real mermaid, you’re only a pretend mermaid.” Joy bobbed Barbie across the edge of the tub in her leg-hugging pink fins designed from an old bathroom curtain. “I am too a real mermaid. And I can dive deeper than you. All you can do is sit on your rock.” In a voice tinged with snippy attitude, Mermaid said. “But I can sit on my rock at the bottom of the ocean. All you can do is dive in the bathtub.”
Sam clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud and slipped away from the door. What would she do without her little girl? She was the one thing guaranteed to make her smile. Well, almost the only thing.
She glanced at her watch. Two hours and Tim would be coming over to follow up on the training they’d begun. He’d gone over more of the basics the night before and even made her try and attack him. Something she’d never dreamed she could do. At first she’d been afraid of hurting him, but he’d avoided her kicks and punches with ease. His concentration had given her an insight into how he must have been in the service. All business. Thoroughly professional.
On one hand she’d been grateful he was so focused, and on another she’d wanted to do something to break through all his control and focus his intensity on something else. Each time they practiced they ended with a few brief moments of closeness, but so far her fear had her backing off each time. It had to be as frustrating to him as it was to her.
It had been three years since she’d felt the desire to have a physical relationship with a man. What if she couldn’t sustain those feelings if they attempted to make love? It wasn’t fair to keep sending out signals to him if she couldn’t follow through.
She slipped into the bedroom, where she could still hear Joy playing, pulled a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the dresser, and changed clothes. She studied herself in the dresser mirror. This wasn’t exactly a come and get it signal.
Every time Tim touched her, he did it carefully, warning her what he was going to do before he did it. In short, he understood a man’s arm around her throat could trigger her PTSD. She’d had a few minutes of anxiety the night before, but she’d overcome them because she hadn’t felt threatened. But tonight might be different. Every night they practiced could be the night she lost it. If she dwelled on it, she’d lose her nerve for sure.
What would Tim think if she called this off? Would he think her a coward? She didn’t want to disappoint him.
But most of all she didn’t want Will Cross to rule her life anymore. This was the fifth step toward taking back everything he’d stolen from her. The first had been when she’d walked away. The second when she’d had Will arrested—not once, but twice—and the police had actually backed her up. The third step, she’d filed for divorce and gotten it. The forth step, she’d signed up for a college class and gotten a job. And now the fifth would be learning to protect herself.
Once she’d accomplished this one…what would be the sixth? She couldn’t think about that yet. She had to finish the fifth step first. One step at a time.
“Joy? Time to get out of the tub, honey,” she called out as she left the bedroom and went down the hall. Barbie perched on the edge of the tub along with Mermaid.
She took two steps into the room. Joy lay face up beneath the surface of the water. Sam’s heart stopped then her pulse surged up into her throat.
“Joy!” She fell to her knees and reached for her. Joy sat up and blew against the drops of water running down her face and splattered her.
“Dear God.” Sam braced a hand on the tub and held the other one against her heart, its painful beat drumming in her ears.
“I held my breath, Mommy. Grandma El taught me.”
Weak with relief, she collapsed to the rug in front of the tub and dragged in breath after breath. After a few moments, she managed, “That’s good, baby.” Though her muscles shook like Jell-O, she dragged a towel off the bar and held it up. “Come on out, Joy, and dry off. You can watch a little television while you go to sleep.”
“Can we look at the pictures instead?” Joy asked as she wiggled like a seal over the edge of the tub, bringing Barbie and Mermaid with her. With easy practice, Sam grabbed her water-slick body to keep her from tumbling onto the floor and set her on her feet. She wrapped the towel around Joy and began to dry her off. Sam held her close for a moment, until her muscles stopped jerking with reaction from the fright.
“Yeah, we can look at the pictures.” She swallowed against the dryness of her throat. “It’s good Grandma El taught you to hold your breath under water, but when you want to practice again, why don’t you call for Mommy so I can watch while you do it, okay?”
“’Kay.” Her wet hair dripped onto Sam’s shirt as Joy cuddled against her. “I miss Grandma El.”
Tears clouded Sam’s eyes and she held her close. “I do too, baby.” Survival mode had left little time for either of them to grieve for the woman who had saved them and loved them so well.
She rubbed the towel over Joy’s hair, drying it. It stood up in fine white-blonde tufts like cotton candy. “It’s time to get your jammers on. Then we’ll look at the book.”
“‘Kay.” Joy ran naked from the bathroom down the hall to her room.
Sam shook her head. One more thing to work on, bringing her clothes to the bathroom before she got into the tub. She got to her feet and cleaned up the splattered water, rinsed out the tub, and dried Barbie and Mermaid. By the time she’d finished, Joy stood in the hall in her pajamas with the photo album.
Sam guided her into her bedroom and held the book for her while she climbed up on the bed. Sam combed the tangles from her hair, laid the comb on the nightstand, and piled the pillows against the headboard. Getting into bed with Joy, she cuddled her close against her side and they opened the book.
The pictures were a comfort
and a torment. One minute, when loneliness wrapped around her like a straitjacket, she wanted to weep for what they had lost, and the next minute laugh at the funny and tender memories.
Joy had a never-ending supply of questions about the people in the photos, though she’d heard it all before. Twenty minutes later she nodded off and Sam closed the album, eased out from under Joy’s weight, repositioned her daughter’s head on one of the pillows, and pulled the covers up over her shoulder.
Sam stood by the bed for a moment, watching her sleep. She saw changes in her every day. Her chubby baby cheeks had taken on the slimmer curve of childhood, her stubby legs had grown longer, and Sam saw more and more of herself mirrored in Joy every day. She needed to take some pictures to add to the album. Darn it, there was always more and more to do, and only Sam to do it.
She turned out the light and left the room. She had to finish an essay before Tim came over. She settled her computer at the kitchen table and attempted to focus on the assignment. When the phone rang, she rubbed her eyes, glad for the interruption.
“Hey, I’m on my way over.”
Just the sound of his voice set off jittery, sensual-exciting feelings low in her belly. Like she was already primed for something to happen. She wanted him. Just thinking it made it hard for her to catch her breath.
“All right. I’ll be waiting.” Everything she was feeling was projected in the tone of her voice. Heat raced into her cheeks and she bit her lip as she hung up. Had she sounded as provocative to him as it sounded to her?
She had never known how to flirt or be seductive. She’d spent too much time trying not to draw Will’s attention.
She had no time to worry about it further because the soft knock at the door alerted her to his arrival. She glanced out the window, saw it was him, and twisted the dead bolt free.
He brought with him the smell of night air tinged with the desert honeysuckle that bloomed alongside the porch, and him. A clean male scent totally his own. His blue eyes searched her face before he shut the door behind him. He stepped close. Her breath hitched and her heart raced. She wanted to feel the texture of his beard beneath her hands, the texture of his skin. Her mouth grew dry with need and she swallowed. When he bent his head, her arms twined around his neck and her lips parted to drink in the touch and taste of his kiss.
Breaking Away (Military Romantic Suspense) (Book 3 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 25