Sawyer and India ran out onto the patio.
“Bridgette!” India didn’t try holding back tears. “She’s right down there. She’s screaming! Do something! We have to get down. Look! Right there!” She tried climbing over the wall, but Briggs dragged her back.
“We’ll get her,” he assured. “She can’t get far. No matter what, we’ll track her.”
“Y-you heard Frenchie. They’ll kill her. They don’t care. These people are merciless. Why have they even kept her—or us—alive this long? Nothing makes sense.”
“It doesn’t, angel, but who cares? As long as we get her back safe, that’s all that matters.” He held her tight, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other awkwardly over her head. He had to hold her as close, as secure as possible for only this moment.
He needed to catch his breath in order to catch the man who had their child.
12
INDIA FOLLOWED AS close as she could to Briggs while charging down the tower stairs. The only good thing about being in the confined space was that she couldn’t hear Bridgette’s screams.
Back in the suite, she searched for an exterior door, but found none.
The place was a maze.
Briggs picked up a toppled chair. “Stand back!”
He hurled it at the nearest towering window. As soon as it shattered, he plowed forward. “Come on.”
Outside, part of her was relieved to know she breathed the same air as her daughter. Another part of her would never breathe again until holding Bridgette in her arms. The sound of Bridgette’s cries barely rose above the surf.
They crashed through flower-filled beds to a steep lawn and then more rugged natural terrain of Caicos pine and fan palms barely clinging to sandy soil on a base of coral.
“Hurry!” India cried. “They’re getting away!”
“Hey!” Briggs fired a warning shot in the air. Because of Bridgette, she assumed he didn’t dare fire anywhere near the men. He was probably a great shot, but not good enough to risk his daughter’s life on the whim of wind direction or a sudden movement.
The man without their baby turned to fire.
The bullet pinged off the trunk of a coconut palm.
“Even if they do get away,” Briggs called behind him to India, “there’s nowhere for them to go. If need be, we’ll climb back in the chopper. Follow their boat with a spotlight.”
India wiped her tears. This was no time to break down. She had to be strong.
They’d almost reached the dock, but then so had the two men.
A low-slung powerboat approached at a rapid speed. No doubt their ride.
She tripped on loose rubble and twisted her ankle. The pain was instantaneous and fiery.
Briggs must have sensed she was no longer behind him and turned around.
“Keep going!” She waved him forward. “Save our baby girl!”
He looked from her, to the men.
“Go!”
He did.
But then there was a commotion, and by the time she’d limped to the dock, and the dim lights from the boat’s dash allowed her to focus on the entirety of the scene, she still didn’t truly believe it. “Daddy?”
Her father held Bridgette.
A man she didn’t know held a gun trained on his head.
Briggs, Sawyer and two men in wetsuits she assumed to be the teammates they’d been looking for held even more guns. In the middle of it all was her innocent baby girl.
India forced deep breaths not to faint. “Daddy, why are you here? Did Frenchie take you and Mom, too? Thank you so much for being here for Bridgie. Stay strong. These men are my friends. They’re here to help.”
“Aw, hon . . .” Even in the pale moonlight, she saw tears shine in his eyes. “I never wanted it to be this way. I fought so hard to protect you.”
“What do mean? Bridgette is safe now, right?”
He squeezed the baby tighter.
Bridgette cried louder. The sound carried over the water.
The man holding the gun on her father’s temple sighed. “I’ve indulged you on this matter for far too long, Thomas. You told me as long as her baby lived, your daughter wouldn’t give us more trouble, yet it seems I’ve made a grave misjudgment. I never should have allowed you to use our friendship as financial leverage to keep her alive. Because you and I have been trusted business associates for so long, I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but look where we stand. Nothing but trouble. My ride is on the way, meaning I’m afraid this is the end—for all of you.”
“Daddy? What’s he talking about? How do you know this man?”
“I’m bored with all of this . . .” Pop! This stranger who had apparently known her without the reciprocal benefit of her knowing him simultaneously shot her father’s temple while shoving him off the dock—with Bridgette sill in his arms!
India screamed, leaping into action, but Briggs shoved her out of the way.
There was more gunfire, but in the dark, there was no way to tell from which gun the shots were fired. All she knew was that her cheek was planted on the dock’s dewy-wet wood and her baby girl was at this very moment most likely drowning . . .
Terror—dark and clawing settled over her like an inescapable black cloak, drawing with an ever-tightening cord around her neck. This couldn’t be happening. But it was.
Someone knelt beside her, grasping her shoulders, helping her onto her knees, but she fought them off. She didn’t want to move. All she wanted to do was cry. Scream. How could this be happening?
Suddenly, there was a great burst of water, and then Briggs set the lifeless form of their baby on the dock’s end only to push himself up beside her, administering CPR.
It must be high tide, or he never would’ve reached. Once again, angels were on their side.
But for how much longer?
India choked back a sob, summoning superhuman strength to go to Bridgette’s side. “Fight, baby. Mommy’s here. Daddy’s here, too. Come back to us, baby. Please, come back. Please, God, let her come back.”
Briggs kept up the CPR for what felt like hours, but what India rationally knew could only have been seconds. Eventually, the baby sputtered, and then coughed, and finally released a healthy wail.
Only then did India feel it was safe to clutch her child against her, rocking back and forth, crying, thanking God, most of all, thanking Briggs.
He pulled her and Bridgette into his arms. “I’m never letting either of you go. You good with that—never mind. Not up for debate.”
“Just like that?” she teased, more than a little punch drunk on their happy ending. She compartmentalized the events that had happened with her father to process later. Her grief over losing him was mixed with anger over the realization that it had been him to blame for Turtle’s murder. For the threats on her life. He must have even ordered Frenchie to take her child. What kind of monster did that to his own daughter? For now, she wanted only to focus on what was good. She deserved that. So did Bridgette and Briggs.
“Yeah.” He planted a kiss to the top of her head, and then their baby girl’s. “Exactly like that. And where the hell have you two been?” he asked of his teammates in wetsuits whom she assumed were the formerly missing Nash and Jasper.
The taller of the two said, “Once we caught this scumbag—” He kicked the dead guy who had killed her father, “—signaling his offshore friends, we volunteered to the DEA to disable their ride. Tied a nice bowline around their prop. Should hold them up till we send a welcoming party.”
“Nice.”
A shiver rocked India.
“You okay?” Briggs asked.
“Honestly? I’m not sure.”
“You’ve been through a lot,” Sawyer said. “How about we all find dry clothes and a hot meal?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Briggs said. “I’m starving.”
“When are you not?” India asked with a half-smile.
“Ha ha. If you’re done poking fun at your fiancé, there’s something
kind of important I need to do.”
“First,” she said, “that was a lousy marriage proposal. Second, what else could you possibly need to do that we haven’t already done?”
He held out his arms and smiled. “Properly introduce myself to our daughter . . .”
Epilogue
IT TOOK THREE months to sort out the mess India’s father had made of the entire family’s lives, but even then, he couldn’t entirely be blamed. All of them had more than willingly bought in to the tale of the never-ending treasure cave filled with gold-doubloons. They’d all wanted to believe, and so they did. It was easier than accepting the truth—that Thomas Fanning, patriarch of the Fanning clan and unofficial leader of Little Palm Cay had run the largest money laundering business the Caribbean had ever seen.
According to Harding, it could take decades to sort out the legalities.
No more rum pancakes at The Tipsy Crab or T-shirts at India’s family shop. In fact, most of the island was a ghost town since the majority of private property had been seized—including India’s condo. She was only here now for a few hours as a court-allowed favor she suspected Harding had had a hand in arranging.
“We got the rest of the boxes,” Briggs said, fumbling through the door. He made a show of having Bridgette carry the unassembled cardboard crates.
As she toddled over the threshold, her giggly grin was contagious.
“Look at you, big girl!” India clapped for her amazing child. “You’re going to run marathons!”
“Nah.” Briggs followed close behind, supporting her every move. “I think she’ll be the first female Navy SEAL. Mark my words, this little sea monkey’s destined for greatness.”
“Cookie!” Bridgette said with a happy squeal.
“There you go,” Briggs scooped her up, raising her heart-patterned T-shirt to blow raspberries on her chubby tummy. “Pure genius. Already vocalizing exactly what she wants.”
“She says cookie eight-hundred times a day—right along with da-da. Just like you taught her.”
Briggs shrugged. “I can’t help it if the kid has taste.”
“Whatever.” India reached for the tape she’d stashed on the coffee table. Packing the condo was bittersweet. Even more so upon realizing everything she’d believed she’d worked so hard for had been an illusion. Her father had held a tight rein on the books, never letting anyone see. All she’d ever known was that the gift shop consistently made record-breaking profits. In hindsight, she’d been embarrassingly naïve. But that’s why they called hindsight 20/20. “When do you want to talk wedding plans? I was chatting with Delilah and she said whatever we do, we should keep our day a secret from the rest of the group or else our honeymoon will get hijacked? Like it’s a Trident curse?”
He winced. “It kind of is. We’ll be the sixth couple on the team to marry, so let’s not make that the sixth couple to have their dream vacation ruined by—” Briggs’ cell rang. He glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Harding. Holy dog doo. It’s like the man has ESP.”
“Doo doo!” Since Briggs had cut back on cursing for Bridgette’s benefit, she’d unfortunately picked up on his substitute terms.
India shot him a glare.
There he went again with one of his shrugs. He kissed the tip of Bridgette’s nose before setting her on the living room floor, then dashing out the front door to answer his call. “Be right back.”
Funny how he’d been terrified of being a dad, yet she’d never seen any man more naturally suited toward caring for a child. He helped with every aspect of Bridgette’s care from feeding her, to diapering, to bathing and washing her clothes. Cooking organic baby food, and reading up on the latest educational trends. He played with her and cuddled her and read books and sang. Their love had blossomed into the most incredible father-daughter bond that shone between them each time they gazed into each other’s eyes.
India loved them both so much it hurt—but in a wonderful way. She couldn’t wait to be an official family. Briggs’ wife.
She wagged her left-hand ring finger, loving how the sunlight sparkled on her square-cut engagement ring.
Briggs wanted a Thanksgiving wedding. Since India was accustomed to celebrating the Turks and Caicos National Day of Thanksgiving, that was fine for her.
India’s mom had moved in with Nettie and Sam, who’d all three had nothing to do with her father’s scheme. It was a tragedy that Turtle had paid the ultimate price by finding the laundered cash drop, reporting it to the local commissioner, then being murdered for being a concerned citizen.
When India then launched her own crusade to find justice for her cousin’s death, she’d had no idea of the unrest she’d stirred within the entire illegal organization.
Most wanted her dead. Her dad fought to keep her alive. He’d also used his infant granddaughter’s life as a bargaining chip.
Sick.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever make peace with the loving father she’d adored as a little girl and this new incarnation she’d discovered him to be.
Hating her mood’s melancholy turn, India made quick work of packing her few remaining photo albums and childhood mementos.
Fifteen minutes later, Bridgette had fallen asleep in a patch of sun.
Just as India finished, Briggs came back inside.
“Want good news or bad?” he asked.
India groaned. “I’m not sure I can take more bad.”
“Perfect. That’s why I respectfully asked Harding to let Jackson take the lead on our next case.”
“You did?” India raised hopeful brows.
He nodded, slipping his hands low on her hips.
“I told him you would soon be a newlywed. There’s no way you’d let me out of the house for a case like this.”
“Like what?”
“Arson.”
“You’re right.” Her knees turned rubbery just thinking about him getting anywhere near a potentially deadly fire.
“In deep southern, Louisiana.”
“Even worse. Like where there’s snakes and swamps?” She shivered. “I’m so glad you won’t be there.”
“Don’t speak too soon—we’re still going. That’s the bad news. Harding hijacked our wedding. Surprise! You’re going to be a bayou bride.”
“That’s not funny . . .” She growled.
He dared lean in for a quick kiss and wink. “Do you see me smiling?”
Look for SCORNED, Book Seven in my SEAL Team: Disavowed series!
Available soon for preorder! Keep reading for a sneak peek . . .
SCORNED
SEAL Team: Disavowed
Book Seven
Laura Marie Altom
1
Brutal Bayou, Louisiana
SOME PEOPLE SAY fire kills, but they’d be wrong.
He believed fire was life. It was the ultimate beauty. The way it undulated and danced. So sensual. So free. It could be your best friend. Your lover.
That’s why he’d fallen so hard for Miranda, because she’d done battle with flames and emerged the victor. That made her even better. Who else could say that? Essentially, that made her a goddess, and because of that, he had to have her.
Have her in every conceivable sense of the word. She’d share his bed. His life.
Ultimately . . . his coffin.
But it was far too soon for that. First, he wanted to have some fun.
Parking his truck in front of Miranda’s bar, Blackie’s—renamed in honor of the smudges left on the tin roof by that summer’s close call to the elevated square, wooden structure, he hitched up his jeans and smiled. It was going to be a great night.
He’d been lucky to grab one of the last few good parking spots.
Honkytonk blared through the muggy night air.
Couples streamed arm-in-arm into the establishment. The grand re-opening was turning out to be quite a draw.
See? You were all weepy about the fire, but looks like I did you quite the favor.
“Moody, back off! I said, n
o!”
Miranda? He charged across the lot to check on the commotion. Sure enough, out on the quiet side of the party deck, Miranda fended off that rich kid who had no business even being down here. Prick.
“You told me you wanted to give us a try.” Moody apparently never had learned his manners.
“The lady said she’d take a pass.” A man he’d never seen before had stepped out of the bar and onto the deck.
He squinted, repositioning around a random truck bed while trying to get a better view.
“Who the hell are you?” Moody asked.
“Leave him alone,” Miranda said. “This is the former Navy SEAL I told you about? The one with ties to the mayor. You know? Here about the arsons?”
What? This was news to him.
“Jackson Elliott.” The hotshot SEAL held out his hand for Moody to shake.
Once the two men and Miranda finished their conversation and entered the bar, he slowly backed away, all the while picking a slow-healing scab from a burn to the palm of his hand. He liked the pain—needed it.
Interesting how life had a way of working things out.
He’d planned on redecorating the hardware store next, but Miranda’s disgusting show of taking their community’s newcomer by his arm while leading him into her establishment, forced him into a new direction. Yes, his next move had instantly become all too clear. “Jackson Elliott . . . You’re next to burn.”
Dear Reader—
Thank you for spending time with Briggs and India and Baby Bridgette. That last scene with poor Bridgie in the water left me a little dizzy!
While doing the research for this story (summer 2017), I stumbled across an uncomfortable number of articles involving families having been robbed at gunpoint while vacationing in the Turks and Caicos. As this location has been high on my vacation dream list for quite a while, this made me sad and a little squirmy.
Forsaken (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 6) Page 7