SEAL Under Siege (Men of Valor)

by Johnson, Liz

  Staci pressed a flat hand against her mouth. “Labor?”

  “Yes. She’s expecting my first nephew in about a month.”

  Her stomach flipped and turned. Why had she been so quick to agree to stay with them? Sure, she wasn’t safe in her own home, but that might be preferable to sharing a roof with a pregnant woman her own age.

  It had been easier seeing expectant mothers around town and at church from a distance. Easier still in Lybania, where burkas covered baby bumps at every stage until mothers couldn’t leave their homes. No reminders of what would never be.

  But every day in a house with a woman who would clearly be showing, clearly be nesting for her little one’s arrival?

  That had disaster written all over it.

  “You want to pack up a bag, and I’ll take you there now?”

  “Umm…” She swung her head around the room, her heart picking up speed as she searched for an excuse, a reason to back out of their too-hasty agreement.

  L.T. squinted at her, his nostrils flaring just enough to tell her he’d noticed her hesitation.

  “I was just thinking… That is… Maybe I should see about…” She squeezed her fingers into a fist and took a deep breath. “Maybe a hotel would be better. Yes. I could get a hotel room.”

  If it was possible, his eyes narrowed even farther and he pressed his hands onto his hips. “A hotel room is hard to secure—it’s too easy for anyone to just walk in from the street. You’ll be safer at my place.” The tone of his voice was just like one he’d used with his team during her rescue. “And you’ll like my sister. Everyone does.”

  She blinked rapidly, taking a quick step away from him. “I’m sure she’s great, but I hate to intrude. She’s probably—”

  “She’s going crazy spending so much time alone when I’m on the base. And the doctor told her she had to cut back her hours at work, so she could really use someone to talk to.”

  Great. Now he’d cornered her so that if she backed out, she’d look as though she didn’t care about her own safety and that she didn’t care about a pregnant woman.

  It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in befriending his sister. Ashley was probably a lovely woman.

  But watching a pregnancy in full bloom? Could anything dredge up more memories or remind her more fully of her own deficiencies?

  Staci attempted a smile at the same time that L.T. glanced over his shoulder—probably wondering what kind of trouble his men could be getting into on the other side of the front door. “I appreciate the invitation. But maybe it would be better for me to stay here. I could be some sort of…bait.”

  He shook his head and crossed his arms over the expanse of his chest. “There’s no need for that.” His voice dipped low, brooking no argument. “You’ll be safe with us until we can figure out who this guy is and what his plans are.”

  Just because he didn’t want her to counter didn’t mean she was going to give in. “I could just as easily run into him while I’m staying with you.”

  “Yes. And then I’ll be by your side. And I’ll take care of it.”

  The muscles in his forearms flexed. Oh, dear. If the sinewy ropes of those arms were any indication, he could handle pretty much anything.

  “But you said yourself that you’re at the base most of the time. You won’t be with me every minute of the day.”

  His brows knitted together, eyes squinting as he dragged a hand through his hair.

  There. He couldn’t argue with that. She’d have to be alone sometimes, and that meant that he couldn’t always protect her. She might as well stay in her own home, sleep in her own bed and keep her distance from pregnant women.

  “No. I won’t be with you every second, but at least at my place you won’t be alone all of the time. And my guys will pitch in and keep watch on you, too.” Staring hard into her eyes, he leaned forward, balancing on one foot and then the other.

  He seemed determined, but she went for one last try. “What if this guy waits until you’re not around to make another attempt?”

  He uncrossed his arms and flexed his hands. “If you’re concerned about it, we’ll figure something out. Wouldn’t you feel better staying with me? You just said yes, didn’t you?”

  Oh. He’d noticed.

  Any chance she could blame her mildly unbalanced behavior on three weeks in a Middle Eastern jail cell? Or a hit-and-run? Or the pipe bomb that his team had rushed out the door?

  Her lungs clenched as the reality of all of those surged through her, her knees buckling under their weight.

  She didn’t need a reminder why she should go with him.

  Her options were limited. Go with him and stay out of the lunatic’s line of fire. Or avoid the very pregnant lady and leave herself in the crosshairs of a madman.

  With a measured breath she emptied her lungs. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she nodded slowly.

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Fair enough.” He didn’t look particularly happy about being right, but his voice wasn’t unkind. “You want to pack a bag? I’ll clean up in here, then take you to my place and drop you off with Ashley.”

  She did as he suggested, shoving jeans and a few tops into her suitcase. She yanked a skirt and sweater set—interview clothes—out of the closet, rolling them into balls before slipping them into the case. On top she threw in her makeup case, hair dryer and her oversized Chargers jersey. Even if she couldn’t be in her own home, she could feel like it with the football shirt her dad had given her before she left for Lybania. Somehow it helped thinking he was near.

  Even if he had no idea what was going on.

  If she told her parents, they’d insist she stay with them until the risk was past. But that just left them as vulnerable as she was.

  She’d meant what she’d said to L.T. earlier. She wasn’t going to put her sister or her parents in jeopardy. And that meant biting her tongue when they called.

  As she slipped a light jacket over a fresh shirt and pair of jeans, L.T. thumped twice on the door of her room. “You about ready?”

  She opened it. “I guess.”

  He reached around her for the handle of her bag, holding it as if its weight didn’t even register on his internal scale. Leading the way to the door, he glanced over his shoulder as she grabbed her glasses and toothbrush from the bathroom.

  She spun in a slow circle, taking quick inventory of anything she might be missing. Clothes. Check. Makeup. Check. Bills?

  “Who’s going to check my mail?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “We’re going to be less than ten miles away. We can check in every now and then. With any luck we’ll find the guy in just a few days, so you won’t miss anything important.”

  A few days? All of this could be over so soon? She was scared to hope for it, but couldn’t deny the relief that the idea brought. To be free from this storm would mean she could start her life again. She could figure out her next move and find a new purpose.

  She nodded quickly before following him out the door and turning the dead bolt into place with a solid click. Dropping the keys into her purse, she turned toward the two trucks parked at her curb. It was amazing that none of her neighbors had made a commotion about the 4x4s taking up most of the narrow street. Then again, maybe the other residents had gotten a look at the men leaning against the pickups and didn’t want to have to face them.

  Three SEALs pushed themselves off the side of the first truck, standing at easy attention. They didn’t twitch or tremble, their arms hanging loosely at their sides.

  Immediately the side of her face itched, and she fought the urge to run a finger down her scar. She didn’t have to flit around just because their inherent stillness made her skin tingle. Even if it really wasn’t natural to be so motionless.

  Or maybe she still clung to every motion as a reminder of her own humanity.

  The youngest guy—the one L.T. had called Willie—followed her with his eyes, then settled them onto his lieutenant.
r />   “I’m going to take her home, and then I’ll meet you all back at the base.”

  Willie’s eyebrows rose in the silent question that loomed over all of them. Wasn’t this her home?

  Without pretense or preamble L.T. said, “She’s going to stay with me and Ashley for a bit.”

  Zig lifted one brown eyebrow, but they all remained silent.

  And somehow it was worse than if they’d teased or joked about it. What did they think of her?

  “She’s still the mission until she’s completely safe. And we’re all going to pitch in.” L.T. stared at each of his men, daring them to question his command. “Understood?”

  The steel in his voice sent a shiver down her back, and she zipped her coat all the way to her chin. The men, on the other hand, weren’t intimidated. They simply nodded their agreement and mumbled a few “yes, sirs” before piling into the first truck and leaving her standing alone beside the only man between her and danger.

  *

  Tristan hefted Staci’s bag from the bed of his truck and carried it toward his front door just as Ashley stepped onto the stoop. With both hands on her back, round belly sticking out, she filled the space between the door jambs. When she spotted Staci, Ashley’s eyes lit up, a smile breaking through her tense expression. She tried to hide her discomfort, but he’d noticed the lines around her mouth and wrinkled forehead when she thought he wasn’t looking. Carrying a baby was hard work, and anything that took her mind off it was a treat.

  Especially without her husband by her side during the past month.

  Maybe Staci would be a good diversion.

  “Who’s this?” Ashley’s voice carried across the lawn, her hips swaying gently, her weight shifting from one foot to the other.

  Staci tugged on one of her curls and offered a reserved smile, the warmth he’d known in her eyes all but gone, replaced with a hesitancy he’d never seen her show before.

  “Ash, this is my friend, Staci.”

  His sister’s eyes narrowed and then grew wide, recognition washing over her face. He hadn’t told Ashley what he and her husband, Matt, had been up to the month before. Not a word about the mission. But Staci’s face had been plastered all over the news networks and papers.

  As Staci reached the turn in the flat walkway, Ashley swung the front door wide. “Come on into my igloo.”

  The fans on constant rotation in the living room blew Staci’s long hair around her head, and she wrestled it into place, turning slowly around the room.

  Compared to her pristine white floors and walls, his place had to look like the epitome of the man cave. Big-screen TV, brown leather couches and a recliner with his form clearly imprinted into it.

  Of course, there were no empty cans or crumbs littering the room. Not even before Ashley arrived.

  A clean space connoted discipline. And he knew a thing or two about that.

  Ash closed the door behind them, her gaze never leaving Staci’s face. “I’m Ashley Waterstone. I’m so happy to know you.”

  Staci managed a ginger smile in response. “Staci Hayes.”

  “Yes. I’ve seen your picture in the newspaper. You’ve had a rough couple months, haven’t you?” Ash didn’t wait for Staci’s response before plowing on. “How’d you meet Tristan?”

  From his stance behind Ashley, he caught Staci’s gaze, which was filled with questions. Was it okay to say how they’d met? Should she keep the danger she was in a secret?

  But he didn’t have to respond.

  Ashley whipped her head around so fast she nearly threw herself off balance and had to grab his arm for stability. When her feet were firmly beneath her, she glared at him hard. “Matt said you went on a training mission. He said it wasn’t anything to worry about. He said you’d barely left the country.”

  Tristan looked to the ceiling and searched for an answer that wouldn’t raise her blood pressure any more than it already was. And wouldn’t land him or his best friend in hotter water. He hadn’t considered this repercussion of bringing Staci home. Of course Ashley had put two and two together. “Matt’s a good husband. He was just looking out for you and the baby. He didn’t want to worry you.”

  Just like Tristan wasn’t going to worry her with the details of the threat against Staci.

  Her eyes narrowed and she leaned toward him. “Where is Matt right now?”

  Tristan chuckled, lifting up the hand that wasn’t holding the suitcase. “Right where he said. He’s in Chicago doing demo training.”

  Finally the muscles in her face relaxed and she turned around—slower and more in control than before—and nodded slowly at Staci, whose eyes were bright with concern and confusion.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Ash said. “My husband told me he was going on a last-minute training mission about four weeks ago. But clearly he was with my brother, and I assume you, too. But I’m just glad you’re all safe now.”

  Staci blinked twice, her mouth hanging open.

  “You met Matt for a minute,” Tristan explained. “He’s the senior chief.”

  She lifted a hand above her head. “The really tall one?”

  Ash nodded. “Yes. That’s him.” A tender smile broke through her frown. She never could stay mad at Matt. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Staci. I’m glad you’re safe. I know firsthand how good these guys are.”

  The memory his sister alluded to hit him like a punch to the gut, stealing his breath. Yet another time his work as a SEAL meant he hadn’t been there to protect someone he loved. He was just thankful that recovery from an injury had meant that Matt was still stateside at the time, and that he’d been able to keep Ashley safe. And, incidentally, fall in love with her.

  “Firsthand?”

  With a flippant wave of her hand—like her kidnapping and capture by a man with no respect for life hadn’t taken years off her brother’s and husband’s lives—Ash smiled. “Oh, sometime I’ll tell you about it. But right now, I’m starving. Are you hungry? It’s time for my second breakfast.”

  “Second breakfast?” Staci’s head tilted to the side.

  Ashley laughed. “Like every pregnant woman, one breakfast simply won’t do. It’s only fair, really, I am eating for two—each of us should get our own meal.” Without hesitation she ushered her guest into the kitchen and began pulling leftovers from the fridge. Homemade pizza and lasagna. Apples and peanut butter. Blueberries and yogurt.

  She may not have been the one keeping his house clean, but his refrigerator had never been so well stocked. Even if she sometimes mixed her foods into the strangest concoctions he’d ever seen.

  Ever the hostess, Ash pointed toward one of the tall stools at the countertop. “Why don’t you take a seat, and you can fix yourself a plate while Tristan takes your bag to the spare room?”

  Staci caught his gaze, and he offered a quick smile that he hoped reassured her before following his sister’s orders. Matt had made him promise not to argue with his sister. Don’t let her blood pressure go up. It’s not good for her or the baby. Keep her stress low and the baby cooking until I get back, Matt had said just before thumping Tristan on the shoulder and boarding a transport for the exclusive demolition and explosives training.

  He dropped Staci’s bag in the room on the second floor next to Ashley’s and bounded down the stairwell.

  He’d run down another set of stairs just two weeks before. Only that time there had been another hand clutched in his.

  He stared at his tingling palm, all the memories from the night of the rescue racing through his mind. Staci had clung to him, holding on for everything she was worth, following his instructions without complaint. Even when he’d swung her up to his shoulder, she hadn’t fought him. And he knew how uncomfortable that position was.

  And then she’d tracked him down. She’d gone around every roadblock until she’d found the help that she needed.

  The girl sure had some spunk, and his smile grew wider.

  As he reached the last step, he paused before
walking into the kitchen.

  Ashley’s voice carried to him without pause. “How’s your apple?”

  “Very good. Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” A smile laced Ash’s voice. He’d heard it before, every time she talked with one of the women at the battered women’s shelter where she worked. “May I ask how you ended up in Lybania?”

  Staci cleared her throat, and it sounded like she picked up a cup and plunked it back on the counter before responding. “A couple from my church, Judy and Hank, had been over there doing medical care, and they spoke one Sunday about the work they were doing, helping kids get the education, care and love they needed.”

  There was a long pause, and he leaned against the wall, holding his breath, hoping she would go on.

  She did. “My boyfr—” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat before taking her story in a different direction. “My life was in flux. I thought I had a plan, but it didn’t work out. I wasn’t really sure what was next, but when I heard Judy and Hank talk about the kids, I thought I might be able to help. I was an elementary ed major in college, so I figured I could teach some English and just be there for the kids. At least do something.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “I was there for two years without a problem. We offered free low-level medical care—Hank was a nurse—to women and children in need. And in Lybania that’s just about everyone. We gave out food and offered classes for the women, teaching them skills that they could use to help support their families.

  “And then police came.” Her voice took on a distant quality, as though she was more in the Middle East than Southern California. “They had guns like I’d never seen. Big and black and ugly. Hank had a line of patients waiting to see him, but the gunmen just barged in, herding us into a rickety, brown van.

  “There had been a dust storm that morning, and the air was still thick with it. I thought it was the dirt that made it hard to breathe, but then I realized that my heart was pounding so hard I could feel nothing but the thudding inside my own chest. And my lungs couldn’t get enough oxygen.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been terrifying.”