Second Chance Reunion

by Sharon Hamilton

  She checked her underwear on the floor and it, too had a thin band of pink, a small discharge of blood. Very watered-down blood. Spotting, really.

  Just like she’d had with Ainsley when she first got pregnant.

  Chapter 15

  Damon wasn’t the only one who was annoyed at the five-mile run, and the foothill hike. He just couldn’t see expending that much energy when they could have had the vans drop them off much closer.

  The explanation that Kyle didn’t want the drivers to know what they were investigating just didn’t sound reasonable enough for all the effort it was going to take. He thought perhaps they would have been better conserving their strength. It wasn’t that it was a five-mile run, it was a five-mile run near the hottest part of the afternoon, in more than eighty-degree weather. He saw huge clouds billowing up from the other side of the little mountain range to their East and prayed for it, as a matter of fact.

  Each of them brought a backpack, and instead of their regulation black duty bags, they’d been instructed to bring something a non-SEAL would use. Several guys used their daughter’s, covered with unicorns and pink rabbits. Kyle had borrowed Brandon’s Captain America backpack, which was somehow fitting.

  They ended their run toward the beach side, then traveled through scrub brush and stunted desert trees and cactus until they found a deep but narrow river that flowed out to sea. It came from up in the foothills and then meandered past the Villa. If they followed along the banks, it would leave fewer footprints, even if their run had attracted attention. It wouldn’t be of use now, but on the return trip, a little boat would do nicely, and they could just float back to the beach. He wondered if Kyle had considered using another method.

  He stumbled several times, scraped his ankle on the sharp outcroppings and kicked himself for not wearing socks he could pull up and protect his lower legs.

  And there were bugs, and poison cactus needles to avoid.

  The base of the foothill the villa stood on was very gnarled and rocky, with cracks and cervices everywhere as if it had been some ancient lava flow. Kyle pondered which way to approach the outcropping when Armando found a cave, which faced South, so the inside was well lit but cool. A smelly pool of green water had seeped in, no doubt remnants of a winter hurricane, as was prone in this region. During one such storm one of these tributaries grew so fast that it overflowed and wiped out the first floors of several older hotels downtown as it traveled out to sea and disappeared. The town was still finding old mattresses, bedframes and luggage the Sea of Cortez was trying to return. He’d seen a picture of an abandoned Coke machine and a half dozen refrigerators. It had also swept through a local truck dealership and for weeks afterward Ford pickups were finding themselves marooned on the beautiful beach, delighting all the tourist children.

  Like everything else about Mexico, Damon always found something so totally unexpected and juxtaposed to something else that didn’t belong there, he just prepared himself for the bizarre and macabre. There was a level of violence that he could almost smell, and it infected everything.

  Maybe that’s what I’m picking up. Fredo had been raised in East L.A. in a very tough, gang-infested neighborhood even back then. His father was murdered, and his mother sent him to join the Navy to get him out of L.A. He’d been running on the edges of beginning to get into trouble. The Navy completed the job his parents could no longer do. Damon knew Fredo was grateful for the chance to prove himself, find a true family in the Brotherhood, and often spoke of it. Especially when someone’s past came up. He was the conscience of the group, the one to remind everyone that their bond wasn’t just lip service. It was everything.

  But there was something dangerous going on with him this trip, perhaps harkening back to his Latino roots, and Damon was going to take Kyle’s advice and steer clear of him.

  In the cave, Kyle laid out a map he’d brought with him, a rough sketch of the surveillance footage sent back from Coronado on Coop’s little bird.

  “We’re going to do some eyes-on surveillance of the villa since the likelihood is that we’ll only have one shot at it. If it’s too risky, we’re to pull back. At the present time, there is no deal made on transferring the hostages out to someone else,” Kyle began.

  Damon and the others gathered around the sketches placed on a sticky page.

  “She’s here, we think, or at least that was the last sighting. Just like before, the last known signal from Ridgeway was from here. And it does look like a shipping container, which would explain the poor signal.”

  “You want us to scope out some good sniper locations if we need it later?” asked Armando.

  “Exactly. You and Danny find four vantage points, two for each of you. Then you decide which ones will work, depending on what we find when we come back.”

  “Roger that,” said Danny.

  “Fredo, I want you and Damon to locate where and how you’ll set up the charges.”

  “You want massive or super massive?” Fredo asked.

  “Whatever it is, I want you to blow a hole in the front gate big enough to get that water truck through and not get it stuck in the debris field.”

  Damon nodded. “What will they be protecting?” he asked.

  Fredo pressed his stubby forefinger onto three other rectangular boxes near Ridgeway’s location.

  “What about the storeroom? Wouldn’t they want to protect the guns and ammo?” he asked.

  Cooper shook his head, no. “They’ll do that underground, not on top where it’s vulnerable to sunlight and surface explosions. They’d keep it cool, probably in a cave. I’m betting there is one here somewhere.”

  “I agree,” said Kyle. “If we get them tasked with putting out the fire, and if they don’t see or hear a big army or militia coming for them, they’ll be focused on something else. The human cargo is where they make their money. Of course, they’d protect Kelly and Ridgeway too.”

  “Looks like she’s over near the main part of the villa. You think they’re actually putting her up in the house?” asked T.J.

  Sven spoke up. “I imagine they need her in good shape, under house arrest, but they know she’s State, and a non-combatant. And if she’s been beat up, the leverage they’ll have to negotiate goes down.”

  “Precisely. Which means, Sven, I want you to smuggle in an Invisio to her, so we have ears.”

  Sven stood tall, putting his hands on his belt. “Well, I guess I could surrender to them, then, get it to her that way.”

  Several chuckled but Kyle’s expression was stern. “You are of no value to them, Sven. You wouldn’t last an hour in there.”

  “I’ll figure something.”

  “I want everyone looking at everything, anything we can use to our advantage. Tucker, Trace and Jason, I want pictures if you can of what’s in those squares. How many, ages, sex if you can, how they’re guarded. Coop, you be their cover, but you signal the shooters here if anybody gets into trouble. If you have to overtake anyone, make it quiet and very quick.”

  “What if we have to act, I mean like tonight?” asked Sven. “We can’t get back here in time if we have to jog again. We can’t transport anyone if we don’t have vehicles.”

  “We got vehicles, here and here. But Coop, you see if they’re operational.”

  “Hold on, I’m—”

  “No, I’m not asking you to go around and try starting up the trucks, but just see if they’re operational, or look like they’re being used. And then look to see if we can disable any of the ones we don’t need, just in case.”

  “And I’m doing that while I’m watching these two?”

  “I’m not gonna lay a hand on the kid,” said Fredo. He winked at Damon. It sent a chill down his spine, but inside he acknowledged the smack talk as a good sign.

  “We might as well bury the charges while we’re at it, Fredo,” Damon thought.

  “That’s a good idea. Get it set up ahead of time. You’re all right, kid.”

  Damon crossed himself and
gave Fredo a bow. He got a finger for his troubles.

  “So, you want me to what, clean my Sig?” T.J. asked.

  “You’re gonna be the runner in case someone needs help. You can back up any of the activities here, and if you have to, you can run radio to the base. Or call an SOS. I’m going to give you the sat phone, so you guard that thing with your life and stay hidden. You and I will be in good contact,” answered Kyle.

  “Got it. So where will you be?” T.J. asked.

  “I’m gonna find that cave. And you older guys who’ve been down here before, you holler if you see anyone you recognize, hear?”

  Everyone nodded. Kyle checked his watch.

  “I have thirteen hundred oh five. Fredo, pass out the Invisios. Everyone check their equipment. Anything you don’t need from your packs, leave it here for now. I’m gonna make one call to make sure we’re still a go and get a quick update. Oh, and Fredo, you got plastic bags for burying those charges?”

  “No, didn’t bring any. What if I just use the backpack?”

  “One of your boys is going to be mighty upset with you.”

  Damon examined the Hulk pack that obviously had belonged to one of Fredo’s twins.

  Fredo shrugged. “As long as I come home.”

  That put everyone into a quiet mood while they checked their specialized pockets and ammo, knives and gear. Coop passed around a water bottle while Kyle headed to the mouth of the cave and made his call to the Admiral.

  Damon searched the faces of his team, saw the resolution written there, the focus, people tasked with doing what they were the best at, but working together in a pinch. Trace and Tucker were still sweating from the run. Armando and Danny lovingly wiped down their long guns and carefully stored them on their backs. Cooper ate a granola bar. Jason was holding on to a carved piece of bone that always hung around his neck and whispered prayers to his ancestors. T.J. checked out a picture he kept of his wife and daughters, and then stowed it in the zipper pocket over his heart.

  Damon said a prayer, sending strength to Martel and whatever she was dealing with. In his mind, she was on the beach, walking, her long hair blowing in the breeze, holding her sandals casually in one hand while her skirts swished as she trekked through the surf. It wouldn’t be long before she’d wear that white dress she’d picked out, and then maybe they could start their family, all over again.

  And pick up the pieces of the last one.

  “We’re on. Nothing new, thank God.” Kyle said. “Can everyone hear me?”

  They nodded.

  Kyle handed T.J. the phone. “Let’s all be in position in fifteen minutes. We’ll check in and then start our tasks.”

  Chapter 16

  It would have been a stretch to guess that her mind would be off of the potential lawsuit, or her visit with Ainsley, or her soon-to-be husband was away doing dangerous things. Those three were pretty big in Martel’s world.

  But now there was a fourth.

  And she wasn’t stupid, either. If she was spotting, well, perhaps it would get stronger, and then lead to heavy clotting, and so forth. She knew the stories. So, in addition to the possibility that she was pregnant, which she’d already thought about and dismissed previously, there was this strange Deja-vu experience of this happening again. That she hadn’t been paying attention. And no, it wasn’t a bit funny that the two of them were so fertile all it took was a few times together and wham, she’d get pregnant. That would have to be a conversation to be had much into the distance. Right now, it wasn’t funny at all.

  So how did she feel about this? Had she not learned her lesson? Her pregnancy had consumed the last remaining time she had with her mother before she passed. In fact, it was the reason she was not able to be at her bedside and say good-bye.

  She’d altered forever the lives of three other people, not counting herself and Damon. Ainsley’s life was arguably better for the adoption. So was the Newberg’s life with the fulfillment of a dream of having a child. The full weight of her actions, or lack thereof came falling down upon her. She was lucky the first time when she was able to find a loving home for her daughter, but Ainsley was right. It had been an afterthought. Did she look hard enough for Damon? Did he care enough about her? And wasn’t it true, while she came to profess her love for her darling daughter that, in reality, Ainsley’s feelings had been the least she’d cared about. It was all about raising a child by herself, or not being sure what Damon would do, or the horrible possibility that she could have tried to trap Damon into marrying her. It was a choice she didn’t want to make. She didn’t want to be that kind of a woman.

  Maybe I’m worse.

  Her meeting exposed how blindsided she was because she hadn’t thought about what Ainsley would think. Her goal had been to convince her that she did it out of love.

  But wasn’t that a lie?

  The truth was, she had no right to have Ainsley in her life, and she was asking everyone to give her a pass—the Newbergs, Ainsley, even Damon.

  She didn’t deserve a pass. She didn’t deserve everyone’s understanding, their forgiveness because she hadn’t learned her lesson. She’d just perhaps done it again. How stupid and unthinking could she be?

  So now what? She envisioned showing up for a trial, pregnant again, not married, accused of not paying attention to the care of a child in her charge when she was at school. Wasn’t this the same thing? Perhaps a light version of the same issue? Wouldn’t she deserve any exploitation the opposing attorney might raise? Her last days as a teacher at the school she loved would be marred in shame and disrespect. It didn’t matter that she loved Damon and they were engaged. That wasn’t the point. It was that the rules, somehow, didn’t apply to her. In her attempt to “fix” things she was still asking for that passing grade when others had played the game in the right order. She was playing dangerous, loose with her morals, even looser with other people’s feelings.

  The thought that perhaps she was on the edge of a miscarriage didn’t make it any better either. That was a convenient, albeit painful, copout.

  Howe did she really feel about being pregnant again? And if it was so, how would she ever explain it to Damon or Ainsley?

  It was hard getting showered, running her hands over her tender nipples, the smoothness of her soft belly, having that baptism of conscience as she anticipated having breakfast with Karmody. She’d have this little thought in the back of her head, the possibility, perhaps a hope, that new life was forming again, coming her way. And she’d think about this while chatting with Mr. Karmody about her future. The other part of her future.

  On her way to the omelets house, she got a call from Kaitlyn.

  “When I didn’t hear from you, I worried. And when I decided to let you call me, I worried that was the best decision. So, I’m calling you now because I’m worried, Martel. Tell me it’s not justified.”

  She found herself laughing a couple notches below hysterically. She wanted to scream out the window, “Bring it all on!” But, of course, she wasn’t going to do that. She was like an iceberg, one third above water, two-thirds below. The below was getting deeper and deeper.

  “Martel?”

  “I’m on my way to meet Gran Karmody over breakfast. If Greg is free, the offer of dinner is still on the table.”

  “He said he’s got work. I think he just wants me to have a night off with my best friend.”

  “So, let’s meet early if you can. Five? Fergus Crab Shack?”

  “Perfect. And did you sleep well last night?”

  “I did. Took a nice hot shower and fell into bed.”

  “He’s the attorney who handled the meeting with Ainsley?”

  “Yes.”

  “So does this have anything to do with her?”

  “No. Nothing to do with Damon either. It’s a school thing. I’ll brief you what I can tonight. In the meantime, not a word of this conversation, or about Ainsley, or what I did last weekend, okay? Please?”

  “Of course. Well, until tonight
.”

  “Thanks so much for calling, Kaitlyn.”

  Karmody was on the phone, pacing the parking lot when she arrived. He hung up, and them greeted her. He still looked fresh in his white linen suit, but today he had on a light blue shirt. His signature string tie still firmly balanced on his neck like a garotte.

  “I’ve got a table inside,” he motioned, directing her past the hostess to a corner by a window where the light was good.

  “Olivia won’t be joining us this morning. But I’m glad you could come. How are you holding up?”

  She knew better than to tell the truth. “I’m fine. The worst part of these things is that they come out of nowhere and they take time to work themselves out, don’t they?” she said.

  “You’ve got that right. Personalities, expectations, justice, respect. What is one thing to one person isn’t to another. It’s all a matter of interpretation.”

  “What did you two talk about after I left?” she asked.

  “Olivia is quite confident they won’t have much of a case or won’t prevail. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you’ll be spared going through a few things, and I wanted to talk to you about this.”

  “Is this going to ruin my breakfast?”

  “I don’t think so. But in either case, I’m buying, so if you don’t feel like finishing, don’t worry.”

  “I was worried that the two of them had some history.”

  “I think it should be the Gibbs who should be worried. Olivia is a formidable attorney. He now knows it’s not going to be a walk in the park. But before we get into all this, I want to make sure you understand how things are going to work.”

  “Sure.”

  He’d been playing with the plastic menu without looking at it, so when the waitress stopped by, he handed it back to her and asked Martel what she wanted. He ordered, and then studied his hands folded on the table without making eye contact with Martel.

  “You didn’t give your permission to discuss your daughter, so I haven’t talked about it with Olivia. But I’d like to.”