by B. B. Hamel
I shook my head, laughing to myself. I was being so stupid. It was the middle of the afternoon on a beautiful Friday; there weren’t any robbers or murderers around. Plus, it wasn’t like I lived in inner city Detroit. There weren’t many muggers in Dayton, Indiana, probably because there wasn’t much to mug for.
I kept on with my walk, finishing along the outer path that skirted the park. There was a small jungle gym that Mason would play on one day when he was older, some soccer fields, a little bathroom and concession stand area that was only open on weekends, and even a small pond toward the end of the trip.
By the time I finished the full loop, I felt tired and calm again. I’d forgotten all about the paranoia and was content to push Mason along, talking to him every once in awhile, but mostly just losing myself in my own thoughts.
As I turned along the path to head out of the park and back toward my parents’ house, I hit a little bump. “Oops,” I said, checking on Mason. “You’re okay, little guy?”
He just smiled up at me. The kid was completely resilient. He only ever cried when he was hungry or needed to be changed. Otherwise, he was the calmest baby I’d ever seen.
I started pushing his stroller again, heading back home. I passed through the gate that closed after sunset every day and walked along the uneven sidewalk, trying to be as careful as I could with Mason.
And then I got that feeling again, like someone was following me. I glanced back and saw someone walking along quickly, gaining on me.
I felt my heart leap in my chest, adrenaline taking over. I started to walk faster, trying to stay ahead of whoever was coming closer to me. I glanced back, but he was grinning at me. I moved quicker, walking fast, pushing Mason faster along the sidewalk. I spotted the house up ahead and risked looking back. He was getting closer and seemed to be waving at me.
I practically started jogging. I didn’t know what the heck I was doing, but for some reason I didn’t want that guy to catch up to me. I was afraid, I realized, absolutely terrified. I started jogging faster, pushing Mason along.
I made it to the driveway and up along it. I fumbled at the door for my key and realized that my parents both were out.
“Excuse me, miss?”
I looked up, terrified. The man had followed me all the way from the park, even though I’d been running from him.
“I don’t have anything,” I blurted out.
He looked at me strangely. “You dropped this.”
In his hand was my wallet.
Relief washed over me. “Oh my gosh, thanks so much. It must have fallen off when I hit that bump.”
“No problem. Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I said, laughing. “I thought you were a mugger or something.”
He smiled at me. “Can’t be too careful.” He was taller than me, broad and handsome. He skin was dark and his dark hair was cropped short. I guessed he was Indian or something like that, though he spoke perfect English. He was a few years older than me and was dressed in really simple khaki pants and a polo shirt.
“Take care,” he said and then turned and walked away.
I watched him go for a second and then unlocked the door, feeling foolish. I didn’t know why I felt so paranoid and strange, or why I would run from a perfect stranger. All the guy wanted to do was return my wallet.
I opened the front door and pushed Mason inside, closing it and locking it behind me. Even though I knew that guy wasn’t chasing me to mug me or something, I couldn’t help but still feel a little uneasy. I was a single mother alone in a big house with just my baby. Anything could happen.
I sighed. “I’m being silly,” I said to Mason as I lifted him from the stroller and walked into the kitchen. “Mommy is paranoid today. I don’t know why.”
He just squirmed and giggled.
I got a glass of water and sat down with him at the kitchen table. I sipped the water, thinking to myself absently about trying to make some new friends at college. That was pretty tough, especially with a baby. I was only a year older than most of the people in my classes, which was no big deal at all.
The phone started ringing suddenly, yanking me back out of my thoughts. I stood up, Mason in one arm, and grabbed it with my free hand.
“Hello?” I answered.
There was silence on the other end.
“Hello?” I said again.
I was about to hang up, but I heard something. It was someone breathing heavily on the other end, like they were running or something like that.
“I can hear you,” I said. “You’re breathing really loudly.”
No response, just more breathing.
That feeling of paranoia was back again, and with a vengeance. I was so thoroughly creeped out that I just hung the phone up, not caring if it was an important call.
“So weird,” I said out loud to Mason. He just squirmed in my arms like always.
I carried him out to the living room and strapped him into his bouncy chair. He rocked back in it while I started to make myself something to eat. I was trying to forget about that creepy call, but it was pretty difficult.
It wasn’t every day you got a call from someone just breathing on the line.
My initial instinct was to think that it was aimed at me, since I was the one who answered. But the call had come into my parent’s landline and not my cell phone, which meant that it could easily have been meant for my mom. People mixed us up on the phone all the time.
I started putting together a sandwich, and by the time I was finished I was starting to feel better. I’d just begun my day in a really weird mood, what with that guy in the park and feeling like I was being watched. The phone call was strange, but it had to just be a coincidence. There was no reason that it actually connected with my paranoia.
As I sat down by Mason to start eating, there was a knock at the door.
I sat totally still. We weren’t expecting any packages or any visitors. There was another knock at the door, a bit more urgent. I stood up slowly, fear in my chest.
Maybe I’d dropped something else in the park. Or maybe that guy was back to murder me and steal Mason.
I shook my head. I was being so stupid. I was a grown-ass woman now, right? I had to stop being afraid of the boogey man.
I walked over toward the front door, and the person knocked again. “Coming,” I called out.
I grabbed the knob. Something inside me told me that I shouldn’t open the door, that I should just walk away.
But I ignored that stupid part of myself, twisted, and pulled the door open.
“Remember me?” he asked, grinning at me.
Those intense blue eyes, that tall, ripped body, that cocky grin. I remembered him. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him for a long, long time.
My ghost, my baby’s father.
Emory stood there grinning at me, and I thought I was going to pass out.
Emory
I kicked my feet up on the table and pulled out one of my many secure cell phones. I dialed the only number in the contacts and waited for it to ring. On the third ring, I hung up and waited.
This was the game I had to play in order to contact my superiors when I was blending in with civilians. My work was too important to risk getting caught up in the surveillance that law enforcement agencies were constantly doing, plus the surveillance various terrorist groups likely had me under.
Three minutes later, the phone rang. I waited three rings and then answered.
“Sir,” I said, “I have a problem.”
“Speak fast, soldier. I was playing golf.”
I grinned to myself. I was speaking with my commanding officer, Colonel Ethan Blackfire. He was the head of the anti-terrorism Special Forces unit, namely my SEAL squad.
“I got a package this morning with a single photograph of a woman I had relations with just before entering Pakistan last year. It had a message written on it in Urdu.”
“What did it say?”
“‘We know who you are and who th
is baby is. Do you?’” I read to him.
“Baby?”
“She’s carrying a baby in the picture, sir.”
“Shit soldier,” he said. “If that means what I think it does, you might be fucked.”
“That thought occurred to me, sir,” I said.
“What’s the request here?”
“I want to protect the girl, sir,” I said. “The Network is clearly behind this.”
There was a short silence. “Fine. Find the girl and protect her, but be fucking subtle about it. I will get back to you with more orders soon.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Good luck, soldier.” He hung the phone up.
I hung mine up and tossed it aside. I hated all this spy shit. I was trained to kick down doors and to kill my enemies in any way necessary, not to sneak around like a fucking asshole. Granted, I could do all that shit, but I much preferred the old-fashioned method of firing my weapon into some terrorist twats.
I sighed and took out another phone. I took a picture of the photograph and uploaded it to a secure cloud server. I waited a minute and then dialed another number.
“Navy Intelligence,” the woman said.
“Hello there, Lucy,” I said.
“Well, if it isn’t Captain Emory. What do you need today? Drone strike?”
“Nope. Something much simpler. I just uploaded a photograph to the server. Can you analyze it and find out who the girl is?”
“We can do that. I’ll call you back.”
“Got it.” I hung the phone up and then stood.
My orders were clear and simple: protect the girl and don’t make a scene. I assumed Blackfire wanted to keep me out of the spotlight, since nobody knew that The Network was operating domestically in the States.
He probably wanted to avoid any panics or serious incidents. There wasn’t going to be any backup on this one, no local law enforcement or the CIA or some shit like that. No, this was just me, a single, deadly Navy SEAL sent to protect a girl from one of the deadliest terrorist organizations on the planet.
I grinned to myself. It sounded like a good fucking time, just the sort of thing I needed. Sitting around all day and fucking all night was great and all, but I craved something more, some fucking action.
Besides, there was the chance to see that girl again. I didn’t know what I wanted from her, but the memory of that delicious pussy came back to me, sending a thrill down my spine. I’d felt something with that girl that I hadn’t felt before or since, and I was mostly resigned to never feeling it again.
Who knew what I’d feel when I saw her again, but that didn’t matter. I had to focus on my mission, on keeping her safe.
I went to pack, waiting on that phone call.
Tara Bright of Dayton, Indiana. It didn’t take Intelligence very long to figure out who she was. Probably they had some crazy-advanced facial recognition software linked up to every driver’s license database in the whole country or something insane like that. But once I had a name and an address, I knew that I was on my own to do the rest.
I shifted in my seat as the plane descended toward Indianapolis. From there, I’d rent a car and drive straight until I got to Tara’s place.
It was early Friday morning and the airport wasn’t too crowded. The plane landed without any issues, and I grabbed my shit, just a single carry-on bag, and headed toward the rental cars.
Into the airport and down to the rental car place. I waited in the damn line, impatient to get on the road. When I finally got to the front of the line, the woman smiled at me. “Can I help you?”
“I need a car,” I said. “Something cheap and easy. A sedan, preferably.”
She frowned at her screen. “Well, we’re out of sedans in the lower tiers. We do have a few SUVs and trucks?”
“What about the upper tiers?”
“We have a Ford Mustang available.”
I grinned at her. “That’ll do.”
She took down my information, I paid the good lady, and off I went.
Out in the parking lot, I found my car pretty quickly. It was the only electric blue Mustang in the whole place. I stood in front of it, grinning hugely.
So much for not drawing attention to myself.
I got inside and started the engine. It roared to life and I revved the engine.
Nothing was fucking better than a fast car. I pulled out of my spot, drove down the airport road, and got onto the highway heading north toward Dayton.
As I drove, I stopped off at the first gun emporium I saw advertised on a billboard. It was just what I needed: huge and impersonal. It took me ten minutes to walk in, select the pistol I needed, and purchase it. Shouldn’t have been so damn easy, but I felt much better with the loaded weapon’s weight in the waistband of my jeans as I got back into the Mustang and roared out toward Dayton.
I was armed, dangerous, and driving a fast car. I felt a thrill run down my spine. I was elated. I lived for this shit, for danger and suspense and fucking action. The Network was here—I was beyond sure of that—and Tara was in danger. And I was going to keep her safe.
Her and her baby.
I wasn’t sure how long it took me to get out to Dayton, but one second I was blazing down along the fucking highway and the next I was pulling down the exit and riding along the quiet suburban streets.
Dayton was like every other town in Indiana. The place was quiet, neat, and orderly, the last place you’d expect The Network to visit. There was nothing important in Dayton, nothing strategic or worthwhile, except for Tara. And, potentially, my baby.
As I pulled up outside her house, I couldn’t let myself think about that. I might be meeting my baby for the first time, or I might be meeting some random child. Either way, I had to keep my head on straight. I was a trained SEAL on a mission to keep this girl safe. I couldn’t let this child distract me from that.
I got out of the car and headed up the driveway. There was nobody around, though I was primed and ready. I stopped outside her door and knocked once, twice, three times before I finally heard her call out from inside.
That was the voice I knew. She pulled the door open and I grinned at her. “Remember me?” I asked.
She gaped at me like she was seeing a ghost.
She looked fucking incredible, just like I remembered. Those green eyes, that long brunette hair, that perfect fucking body. It made my cock stir just seeing her again in the flesh and remembering what our bodies could do together, even if it was for only one night.
“Yes,” she said, getting herself together. “Uh, yeah. Hi, Emory. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“I’ve been looking for you. Everywhere. For months.”
I frowned at that. “Why?”
“You should meet someone.”
Shit.
So it was true.
Fuck. I had a son.
She half turned and nodded at me. I followed her inside and shut the door behind us.
Her house was cute. She clearly lived with her parents, though, based on all the pictures. Plus, I couldn’t imagine a single mother could afford to live in a decent-sized house alone, even in Indiana. I followed her down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the living room.
And there, trapped into a little bouncy chair, was a baby. A five-month-old baby. Right around the correct age, if I had knocked the girl up.
“Emory, this is Mason,” she said. “Your son.”
I gaped at the kid.
“Are you sure?” I asked her.
“I’m sure,” she said, laughing.
“We used a condom.”
“I know. Believe me, I’ve thought about that a million times.”
He looked just like me, the same nose, the same eyes. It was like staring at a tiny, blob-like version of myself.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said again, “but you’re not easy to find.”
“I know,” I said, distracted, staring at the kid.
I’d never wanted to be a father, never wanted to have a kid. But there I was, facing my baby, while The Network probably moved into position to kill us all.
“What are you doing here?” she asked again.
“Came to see you,” I said, not wanting to tell her the truth.
Not yet at least. She didn’t need to know that a deadly terrorist group might be watching her, ready to hurt her in order to get at me.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“I have my ways.”
“Emory,” she said, “I know this is a lot to take in.”
I turned toward her. “You look fucking good,” I said.
“Thanks.” She blushed a little.
“Fuck, I get why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that sweet pussy since I left you.”
“Don’t say that. Not in front of Mason.”
“The kid can’t understand me,” I said, laughing. “Plus, he’d be happy to know a man like me would want his momma.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” I said, changing the subject.
She looked annoyed. “Look, I know this is weird, but you don’t need to come in here acting all cocky.”
“Not cocky,” I said. “Just honest.”
She made a face. “You know, I’ve been hoping for a long time that you’d show up. Now that you have, I’m not so sure I want you here.”
I laughed, shaking my head. I didn’t blame her, but she had no clue what she was saying.
“Don’t act like that pussy isn’t dripping wet,” I said. “The second you saw me, you remembered what I could do to that body of yours.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” she admitted, “but you’re also still as arrogant as I remembered.”
“I get it, princess,” I said. “You don’t know who I am or why I’m here.”
“No, I don’t, but you are the father of my child.”
“Maybe.”
“Look at him. You look exactly the same.”
I glanced at the kid again and frowned. I couldn’t deny it, at least not for long, but I couldn’t let myself get too distracted either.
“All babies look alike,” I said, moving back toward the kitchen.