by Johnson, Liz
Another long pause, and he had to force himself to let out a measured breath and inhale again silently. He shouldn’t be listening to this conversation, but he didn’t want to interrupt and risk her stopping. This was so different from the briefing he’d received.
The facts were the same. But the details made the story real.
This was her life before he’d met her. Before he’d stolen her from under the noses of those madmen.
“I’m glad I couldn’t hear anything else, because I knew the men were yelling, but I couldn’t understand any of their words. Even when the uniformed officers passed us over to the guerrillas, I followed their pointing fingers and angry shoves more than their words. Because whatever they were saying, their tone conveyed the truth. They hated us.”
“But why?”
Did she even know why she’d been captured? Did she even know what her crime had been?
“We had a bible.”
It sounded like Ashley patted Staci’s hand, and his sister sighed. “Did they hurt you?”
Another long pause, and he could envision those long, slender fingers brushing past the scar on her face. “They intended to. But they were waiting for their leader to arrive.” Staci’s voice tapered off like the wind had carried it away. “And then L.T. showed up. And your husband. And they ran with me until I was on the boat.”
“Safe.”
Staci made a vague sound that could have been an agreement, but he knew it wasn’t.
“Well, I’m—” Ashley grunted. “Oh! This baby is ready to kick his way out.”
“He’s kicking?”
“He sure is. Want to feel it?”
Staci’s stool scraped across the floor, and he assumed she was reaching for Ash’s belly until she spoke. “No. That’s all right.” A short pause and then, “Maybe I should go.”
“Where? I mean, if Tristan brought you here, he must think it’s the best place for you to stay. You’re welcome here.”
“I— Thank you. I appreciate it, but with your baby on the way, I don’t want to—that is—I don’t want to get in your way.” Staci’s words were a deluge, stammered out fast. But they didn’t make any sense.
Why would she want to leave?
“I’d like you to stay.” The tone in Ash’s voice rang true, compassion woven through every word. “I could use the company if you don’t mind.”
“But you just met me. You don’t even know me.”
What had her scared enough that she’d rather face a man trying to kill her than stay in his home?
Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let Staci put herself in danger while he figured it out. They had a bigger problem to deal with. They had to stop a possible terrorist attack.
SIX
The next morning Staci rolled over amid sheets that smelled of fresh mountain streams, the covers wrapping her in a cocoon. Snuggling deeper into the warmth, she squinted at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, but she couldn’t make out the big red numbers without her glasses. And she couldn’t get to them without dislodging her covers.
The sun had only just broken the horizon, its rays reaching through the window to greet her. She’d heard Ashley get up to use the restroom twice during the night, but now all was silent in Tristan’s house.
She wasn’t quite sure when she’d begun thinking of him as Tristan. It was probably during Ashley’s fervent appeal for her to stay. Over and over Ashley had pointed at her big brother and called him by name.
Now Staci was calling him Tristan and staying under his roof.
She’d had her chance to get away from the constant reminder of her own inadequacy, to leave before she became attached to Ashley and the baby she carried.
But she’d given in and stayed. And now it was too late.
She already adored the waddling woman, whose gentle words and kind smile had prompted Staci to share more about the ordeal than she’d even shared with the PAO at the base. The only person she’d told more to was Tristan. And that was so she could show him the map.
When he’d rounded the corner into the kitchen the day before, he’d immediately made it clear that she wasn’t going anywhere. This was the safest place for her to be.
Even if watching a joyfully rotund Ashley navigate the last weeks of her pregnancy made Staci’s chest hurt.
She rubbed a flat palm across her collarbone, wishing the air would come a little easier.
But the sure knowledge that she’d never get to have a child of her own ripped at her heart.
The hardest part was the certainty that no man would ever want to marry her for that very reason.
Chris had been clear when he broke off their relationship. Silly her, she’d thought he was going to propose.
I’ve been thinking a lot about us, Stace.
Me, too. She’d smiled and held out her hand over the linen tablecloth, expecting him to take it. He hadn’t.
There’s not really a future for us, is there?
Her mouth had dropped open, a bite of prime rib sticking in her throat as she grabbed for her water glass. She’d gulped as tears flooded her eyes.
When her glass had rattled back on the table, she’d tried to speak, but the words had lodged somewhere behind her tongue.
Listen, it’s better to talk about this now, right? Before we got serious.
Serious? she’d croaked. We’ve been together for more than a year. I moved to San Diego so that we could live in the same city.
He hadn’t even had the courtesy to apologize for leading her on, but his ears had turned pink and he’d looked away, unable to hold her gaze. I never asked you to. And you weren’t really honest with me about everything back then, were you?
The flames behind her eyes had flickered to life, setting her temples on fire. I wasn’t honest with you?
You never told me about—about your situation. You know I want to have a family.
So do I. There are other options like foster care or adoption.
When he’d finally swung his stare back to her, his eyes had been hard and cold, and he’d wiped the tip of a cloth napkin across his mouth. I want a family of my own kids.
There’s surrogacy—we can figure something out. If we love each other there must be a way.
He’d pulled out his wallet and dug out a couple of bills, shaking his head the whole time.
Please. Please don’t leave. Don’t throw everything away because of this. Her voice had risen on the last word, desperation filling her.
She’d been shocked to realize she was nearly begging him to stay. That wasn’t who she was. She was stronger than that. She was strong at twenty-one when the OB/GYN told her that the ovarian tumors would have to be removed, and with them any hope of ever bearing children. She was strong at twenty-three when she’d watched her little sister get married before her.
But these words from the man who had professed his love had torn through her, taking all her strength away.
He’d stood, brushing his tie smooth and nodding toward the money he’d left on the table. That should cover the meal. Then, sticking his hands into his pockets, he’d shrugged. It’s been fun, Stace, but I’m ready to settle down and start a family.
How had she ever thought Chris could be her lifelong partner? The cool glint in his eye, the lack of any concern for her, had left her alone and adrift.
And certain of only one thing.
She wasn’t whole enough to be wanted.
Ashley’s door creaked open just a moment before two quick raps landed on Staci’s.
“Staci? Are you awake?”
The insistent whisper launched Staci out of bed, fighting the covers that refused to let her free. Her foot thumped hard on the floor as she tumbled toward the door. Swinging it open, she revealed Ashley wrapped in a cozy robe.
“Is everything all right?” Staci kept her voice low, just as Ashley had.
“Yes. Everything’s fine. I just was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
Staci let out the
breath that she’d been holding. “Oh. Sure. What is it?”
Ashley’s smile turned sheepish. “I don’t fit behind a steering wheel very well these days.” She rubbed a slow hand around her stomach. “And I just got a call that the shelter where I work needs some extra help today. Would you mind taking me?”
That wasn’t a good idea. Who knew what was waiting for her beyond the security of these walls? When or where would she have to face the man who was trying to kill her? “What about your brother? What did he say?”
“Oh, Tristan’s been gone for hours. He does PT with the rest of the team most mornings.”
He’d said she’d be safe here. Said that here she didn’t need to worry about the American they needed to identify. That’s why she’d agreed to stay, despite the knot that Ashley’s pregnancy left in her stomach.
Staying kept her safe and gave them the best shot at identifying the man and his plan.
But what about leaving the house with Ashley?
Ashley ran a hand over her hair. “It would only be for the morning.” She raised her eyebrows, showing off her big blue eyes. She looked like she was trying to be the picture of sweetness, but there was a wry humor to her eyes that never quite vanished. “Please. I’ll buy you lunch. Anything that ten bucks can buy is yours.”
The knot in her stomach loosened as a little chuckle escaped. “But I don’t have my car here. It’s still in the shop.”
“We can take mine.” Ashley’s smile said she knew Staci would cave.
And she was right. Staci couldn’t leave Ashley without a ride or let the women and children at the shelter suffer just because she’d rather not get too close to Ashley.
Or leave the house.
Anyway, the lunatic after her didn’t know she was here. He probably thought she was still at her own home, so if she left from here, he couldn’t follow her. They’d be fine for the day.
“All right.”
Ashley nearly clapped in glee. “Wonderful. Let’s leave in an hour.” She winked. “It takes me a little longer to get ready these days.”
Staci closed her door and leaned her head back against the wall. It would never take her longer to get ready because of a baby on board. Maybe that was something to be thankful for.
“Oh, God, please help me to be thankful for what I do have. I’m healthy now, and I have a loving family. And Tristan will keep me as safe as possible for now.”
Her prayer helped but didn’t fully brighten her mood as she moved around the room, picking out clothes and necessities before slipping into the bathroom across the hall to get ready.
An hour later it was Ashley’s smile and laughter as they drove to the battered women’s shelter that pulled her all the way out of her doldrums.
Ashley waved her hand around the passenger side of the coupe as Staci pulled them onto the interstate. “So then Aubrey had the kite sailing, but Jorge had never flown a kite before. So there he was running and skipping below it, but he didn’t know about the string. He ran right into it.” Her voice rose with excitement as she retold the story. “And we all started calling out to him to stop and turn, but when he did, the string was stuck to him. Before we knew it, he was so tightly wrapped up that he couldn’t even lift his arms.”
Staci chuckled at the image of the five-year-old’s first experience with a kite.
“How long have you been volunteering at the shelter?”
“Almost two years now. I started helping out right after I moved from Northern California.”
Staci shot her a look out of the corner of her eye, wondering if she’d go on. When she didn’t, Staci prodded, “What brought you to San Diego?”
Her smile widened, and she spread her fingers over her stomach. “Matt.” This time Ashley didn’t require any urging to continue. “I was in love with him, and I wasn’t going to let him get away even if Tristan wasn’t happy that I had plans for his best friend.”
“So Matt was your brother’s best friend before you got married?”
“They were swim buddies during SEAL training more than ten years ago. And they’ve been best friends ever since. A couple years ago I got into a bit of a mess, and Tristan couldn’t check on me, so he sent Matt.”
“And you just fell in love?”
“Something like that.”
Staci’s smile widened. Tristan had to have hated that. He commanded his men with a sure hand and doted on his sister. Combining the two was probably torture on him.
That, more than anything else, tickled her, and she let out a full-body laugh as she pulled off I-5 toward the shelter.
*
Tristan ran his hands through his damp hair and over his shaved chin as he marched down the single hallway of the mobile office unit. It was good to be clean and in a fresh uniform after a harder than usual PT. He didn’t usually lead the group. He had a better view of his team, a better understanding of their skills, when he stuck to the middle of the pack.
But this morning, he’d been so focused on the woman still sleeping under his roof—and the man after her—that he’d run the beach with abandon, leaving most of his men in his wake.
Zig stuck his head out of the door of the office across the hall. “Pushed yourself pretty hard this morning, eh, L.T.?”
“Guess I did.” He didn’t address the underlying question in Zig’s words. He didn’t need to explain himself. He was still the leader of his squad, the second in command of the platoon. And if he wanted to run faster than usual, he would.
As he stepped into his tiny office, the phone on his desk rang. Snatching it to his ear, he said, “This is L.T. Sawyer.”
“Lieutenant Sawyer. This is Commander Henry Kyle.”
“Sir. It’s good to hear back from you.” Tristan had spent more hours with the commander than anyone else in his time at the academy. Even after graduation, he sought him out as a linguistics mentor. The man was a language genius—hopefully he could help them translate the few words on the little map.
“Sure. I got your email with the scanned page.”
Well, it wasn’t the whole page. But the commander didn’t need to know that he’d removed the map from the image after scanning it. “Great. Do you have any idea what it says? It’s a dialect I’ve never seen.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I’m sorry, sir. That’s classified.”
“Mmm-hmm.” The older man mumbled something that sounded like he understood. “Well, without knowing the exact area of origin, based on the tails—and something I saw in the news recently—I’d wager this came from Lybania.”
Smart man. Of course he’d put two and two together. But Tristan didn’t confirm or deny Kyle’s suspicions. “Any idea what it says?”
“I’m pretty sure it says that the second will be first.”
“The second will be first?” That wasn’t much to go on.
“Yes. But what’s strange about it is the word that they use for second is actually one that I’ve only ever seen in intercepted missives from terrorist cells. It means the second in command, the leader’s proxy.”
Tristan wrote the phrase on a piece of paper, tracing each letter over and over as he turned the phrase around in his mind. “So the second in command is going to become the first in command.” He tried to say it with confidence, but it didn’t fit into the bigger picture of what he knew, so he stumbled on the last word.
“Could be.” Kyle took a long pause. “Or it could be that the second will get something before everyone else.”
But what would he get? And who’s second? Was a terrorist leader about to send his deputy to blow up something in San Diego? Staci had said she’d heard them talking about an explosive, but how did that, the map and the second all tie together?
“What are you mixed up in, Sawyer?”
The quiet question caught Tristan off guard, but he fought to keep his mind focused. “I’m really not sure, sir. But I’m taking this through the appropriate channels.” In fact he had a meeting with the offi
cer who oversaw all of the SEAL teams at Coronado scheduled for that afternoon. Tristan would tell him the truth about what was going on—even about Staci staying at his place—and then they’d make a plan for how to keep her safe and make sure that the terrorist’s bomb never struck its mark.
“Be sure you do.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you for your help.”
He hung up the phone quickly before dialing a new number. “You’ve reached the office of Special Agent Victor Salano. Leave me a message, and I’ll return your call.”
“Vic, it’s L.T. I’ve got a translation on the words on that map I sent you.” He thought about leaving the translation in the voice mail, but stopped before repeating it. Maybe it would be better to check with Staci to see if she could put it in some kind of context. Maybe the words would jog her memory, and she could shed some light on them.
This was a good excuse to call her, to reassure her that she’d made the right decision to stay. This was also a good excuse just to listen to the sound of her voice—a little husky but still filled with a smile even in the face of this threat.
Except that was not why he was going to call her. This wasn’t about her voice or her pretty face or the way she was both confident and vulnerable at the same time. This was about the mission, and nothing more.
He punched his home number into the base of the oversized, outdated office phone. As it rang, he ran his pen over the letters he’d written during his conversation with Commander Kyle, replaying the commander’s words over and over.
The second will be first.
He took the sentence apart, putting the words back together in different structures.
Will the second be first?
The first will be second.
First, the second will be.
What if it wasn’t a complete thought at all? What if the words had been transposed in the translation? That wasn’t uncommon, and usually easy to figure out in context. But there was no perspective for these words. He could be missing a whole phrase and not even know it.
He was so consumed with scribbling words on his page that he didn’t realize he’d missed five rings until his old-fashioned answering machine clicked on.
“Leave a message at the beep.”