Lockdown

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  “I’m glad you’re early today,” Kel told her. “The principal from the local high school called this morning. They have a teacher workday today, so he said today would be the best time for us to go take a look around.”

  “Did you want me to come too?”

  “Of course,” Kel replied, nodding. “This is a team effort, and I want your expertise from the engineering side of things.”

  Riley nodded in agreement and followed Kel and the others to the government van parked nearby. She wasn’t surprised that once they were all seated inside they had their morning prayer before heading to the high school. Even though Riley had grown up in a religious family, the SEALs’ morning prayers had seemed a bit odd at first. After all, how many people prayed while they were at work? Now that she had gotten to know everyone a little better, though, the morning prayers didn’t seem strange at all. If anything, she could see how this ritual would help the team remain close and in tune with one another and the Spirit, especially when it counted most.

  She couldn’t claim to have a lot of knowledge of the kinds of missions Navy SEALs performed, but from what she had read and the stories she had heard her father tell, she knew that teamwork was a high priority. The more time she spent with Tristan and the rest of the Saint Squad, the more she realized how interdependent they truly were.

  On the drive over, Kel gave them each their assignments. Seth and Amy had digital cameras and were to take photos to help refresh their memories later when they were setting up their mock disaster. Riley had been tasked to work with Quinn to identify the easiest points of access in the common areas of the school while Tristan and Brent analyzed the exterior of the building. Meanwhile, Kel would meet with the principal to learn more about the school’s emergency protocols.

  When they pulled up in front of the high school, Principal Newsome was waiting for them. Not only was he willing to let them use his school for one of their training exercises, but he was astute enough to realize what an opportunity it was to have a squad of Navy SEALs identify the weaknesses in his school’s security.

  The principal gave them a detailed tour of the building and explained the school’s emergency procedures, including the codes they had developed to inform teachers of emergency situations. When their tour ended, Riley went with Quinn to check out any points of access, starting with the air ducts. “I don’t know,” she said. “I really don’t think anyone could get past the cafeteria staff to get to these.”

  Quinn nodded. “They could, but not at a time when anyone would be in the building.”

  “So where should we hold the training exercise on this campus?”

  “The cafeteria,” Quinn stated without hesitation.

  “Why?” Riley looked at him, confused. “I thought that wouldn’t be very logical because of the number of staff members on duty.”

  “Yeah, but kids aren’t logical, and we already have three classroom scenarios set up.”

  “Speaking of which, I don’t understand why we’re doing three in classrooms in the first place. Is the repetition just so that the police officers will learn to get it right?”

  “It’s not repetition,” Quinn replied. “Each scenario will be different. These cops need to learn to anticipate anything. They need to be able to analyze whether the shooter is beyond negotiation or if he can still be saved. They also need to be ready for the unexpected—a second shooter or someone who might be sympathetic.”

  Riley sighed. “It gets so complicated. Sometimes I wonder if all this effort is even worth it. If someone decides to bring a gun to school, there really isn’t anything anyone can do until it’s too late.”

  “Look, there aren’t any perfect solutions, but I really think we can make a difference by helping the first responders see all the options. The quicker they can neutralize a gunman’s threat, the fewer lives will be lost.”

  “I hope so,” Riley agreed. She followed him into the main cafeteria, where Kel and Brent were talking out ideas. Quinn gave them his input as Riley stood by, not sure what else to do. She and Quinn had already identified all of the soft points of access into the cafeteria, and now everyone was talking about strategy, which was way over her head. She leaned against one of the cafeteria tables a short distance away and listened as they debated back and forth.

  Quinn’s voice startled her when he called out, “Hey, Riley! Call your boyfriend and tell him to get in here. We need his input.”

  Riley just stared at Quinn. Did everyone really consider her and Tristan a couple? Did Tristan think of her that way? She pulled out her cell phone and wondered just what she was letting herself fall into.

  * * *

  This was getting scary. Tristan stood in the kitchen of his apartment and watched Riley, who was sitting on the living room couch and arguing with Quinn over sports. In her opinion, baseball was too boring to watch unless you were watching it live. Quinn argued that ice-skating, Riley’s favorite sport, wasn’t a sport at all.

  Tristan couldn’t believe he had known Riley for such a short time. Here she was debating with the man he considered his brother as though she had been part of their lives for years, not days. Even the changes he had seen in her over the past week surprised him. She had been so timid around everyone at first, trying to project an air of professionalism while she struggled to fit in. Though she still had those moments when she was uncertain, she had definitely found her comfort zone with the squad.

  They had made a point to go back to Sedgely Hall after their strategy session at the local high school. Riley’s hesitation had been obvious, but they had surrounded her as they entered the building, trying to give her a sense of security. After seeing her at the high school, Tristan was starting to realize how much she really had to offer to their team. Her engineering knowledge was useful, but she also seemed to have good instincts on how potential victims would react. He felt like between Riley and Amy they could come up with some realistic obstacles for their class participants that would hopefully save lives in the long run.

  Seth stood up and wandered into the kitchen, leaving Riley and Quinn to debate without him. “Do you need any help?” he asked Tristan.

  “It’s just about ready.” Tristan pulled a cookie sheet out of the oven, and the smell of Texas toast drifted through the apartment. He nodded to Seth. “Put those on a plate, will you?”

  Seth nodded and riffled through the cupboards until he found one. He glanced over at Tristan and then at Riley, who had reluctantly agreed to watch the baseball game if they could flip to an ice-skating competition during commercials. “I like her.”

  Tristan stopped stirring the sauce to glance over his shoulder at Seth before letting his gaze settle back on Riley. “Yeah, me too.”

  Seth picked up the plate and chuckled. “I think you’re a long way past like, brother.”

  That familiar flip-flop in Tristan’s stomach did a double as a well of emotions flooded through him. He barely knew this girl. Then again, he couldn’t deny that he had shared more of himself with her than with any other woman he had ever known. Maybe it was the fact that they had spent so much time together over the past week that made him feel like he had known her so much longer.

  It was just infatuation, Tristan assured himself. After all, it had been months since he had last dated someone. He supposed it was only normal to fall a little harder than usual in these circumstances. Rarely did he face the possibility of being in one place for eight weeks, let alone finding someone he would enjoy spending that much time with. He supposed if they were out in the real world, Riley would grow tired of taking second place to his career, just like so many other women he had dated in the past.

  The timer went off for the pasta, and Tristan tried to push such serious thoughts aside. Then Riley turned and smiled at him, and he suddenly wondered if seven more weeks together would be enough for this relationship to run its course.

  * * *

  Riley’s laughter rang out as Tristan walked her out to her car. “You didn’t r
eally put blue dye in the sergeant’s showerhead, did you?”

  Tristan grinned. After dinner, the SEALs had started reminiscing about a joint training operation that had resulted in some rather unusual practical jokes. “It was actually more purple than blue,” he said. “He probably still doesn’t have a clue who set him up.”

  “Remind me to never annoy you.” Riley shook her head in amusement as she dug for her keys.

  “I doubt you could even if you tried.”

  “You underestimate me.” She laughed again. “I’m sure my sister could tell you all sorts of annoying habits I have.” She stopped for a moment, her eyebrows drawing together. “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t talk to Taylor.”

  “Afraid she’ll tell me all of your secrets?”

  “I think you already know most of those.”

  “Tell me the rest.” Tristan’s voice grew soft, persuasive. “Trust me and tell me the rest.”

  Riley blinked at how fast his mood had changed. She hesitated, worried by the fact that for the first time in two years she was tempted to talk about that horrible day. But she shook her head instinctively, her voice lowering to a whisper. “I can’t.”

  He stepped back and nodded, hurt showing in his eyes.

  “Tristan, please don’t.” She moved to him, reaching up to put her hand on his cheek. She could feel the day’s worth of stubble on his face and smell the scent of soap still clinging to his skin from the shower after his morning run. “It’s not you. Some things are just too painful to talk about. I need time before I’m ready to open up some of those old wounds.”

  Reluctantly, he nodded. “I don’t mean to press. I just want to know you—not just the neat package you show everyone else, but the scars too.”

  Regret filled her, and she wished she could give him what he wanted. It wasn’t a matter of trust, she assured herself. It was self-preservation. She didn’t want to go back to that place where the memories were locked. She didn’t want to remember her friends and classmates as she had seen them that day. She needed to remember them when they were whole, when she was still whole.

  Sadly, she dropped her hand and stepped back.

  “Riley, I’m sorry.” Tristan reached for her hand and drew her closer. Slowly, gently, he touched his lips to hers. The kiss was meant to soothe both of them, but Riley felt like her knees might give way right then and there. She slipped her hands around his neck, a little sigh escaping her as he pulled her closer.

  She felt herself drowning, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to think about anything except the way his hand felt against the small of her back and the firmness of his lips. She felt dazed when he pulled back, and he just stared down at her for a moment before trailing a finger down her cheek. “You are so beautiful.”

  Her cheeks reddened, and she was suddenly speechless.

  He gave her another quick kiss before reaching past her to open the car door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With her head still spinning, she nodded and slid into the car. She put the car in gear and glanced back at him. He was standing there looking larger than life. He was drop-dead gorgeous, with a sensitive side she never would have guessed at. He had overcome so much to make himself what he was today, and he thought she was beautiful.

  She wasn’t sure whether she should be excited to see him the next day or terrified.

  9

  He wasn’t getting anywhere, and he knew it. Dr. Philip Walberg watched the sullen teenager across the room sinking deeper and deeper into a well of anger. That anger was likely to drown him if he didn’t start trying to pull himself out soon. Eric Rhodes was probably already too far gone to be helped, Philip told himself, but he didn’t have a choice but to meet with the boy.

  Even though he would have preferred to transfer Eric to another psychiatrist, he was stuck with this kid who was already several inches taller than Philip himself. He understood now why his longtime associate had insisted on the boy coming to him for the court-mandated counseling. Eric was clearly being abused, and, if Philip had to guess, it was his associate’s partner—the boy’s father—that was creating this monster.

  As much as Philip wanted to help Eric, he knew he couldn’t. The boy wasn’t just a victim of abuse. He was also a victim of his own doctor’s deepest, darkest secrets.

  * * *

  “Are you sure about this?” Amy asked reluctantly.

  “Absolutely.” Riley tapped the cookbook in front of her and handed Amy a spoon. “Meatloaf is easy to make, and if the measurements don’t work out exactly, it won’t really matter.”

  Still, Amy hesitated. “I don’t know. I seem to blow even the most basic recipes.”

  “Which is why I’m going to stand here the whole time and help,” Riley insisted. “Go ahead. Get started.”

  “Okay.” Amy dumped the hamburger in the bowl, followed by an egg, the bread crumbs, and some ketchup. “I don’t understand how my mom can be such a great cook when I can’t even make the basics.”

  “My guess is that you’re a bit impatient.”

  Amy stopped pouring in the ingredients that were neatly lined up on the counter. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you just put in the first four ingredients without picking up the spoon.” Riley laughed. “You need to slow down and mix the ingredients in as you add them.”

  “But wouldn’t it be easier—”

  “Easier, yes,” Riley said gently. “Better tasting, no.”

  “Okay.” Amy picked up the spoon and started stirring. “I’ll try it your way.”

  Riley nodded her approval and crossed to her apartment window. Downstairs in her parking lot, Quinn, Brent, Seth, and Tristan were standing around Tristan’s truck looking under the hood. “What are the guys doing out there anyway?”

  “Last I heard it was supposed to be a tune-up,” Amy told her, carefully stirring in the next ingredient. “Tristan was having trouble with his truck before the squad was deployed to the Middle East a few months ago. They were called up before he got all of the work done on it.”

  “I’ve never worked anywhere before where it felt like such a family,” Riley commented. “It’s like they would do anything for each other.”

  “They would,” Amy said softly. “It scares me sometimes how much they’ll sacrifice to keep each other safe.”

  Riley was silent for a moment as she watched Amy continue to stir. “Is it hard being the only woman working with them?”

  Amy shook her head. “Not really. They’ve always made me feel like part of the team, even though technically I’m not.” She stopped stirring for a minute and looked up at Riley. “I know most people think that all Navy SEALs are male chauvinists, especially since they are so adamant about keeping women out of the teams, but they really aren’t. At least not this squad.”

  “Yet here we are cooking for them while they’re outside playing with their toys.”

  Amy laughed. “Normally it’s me sitting out there handing the guys tools while Brent cooks dinner.”

  Riley grinned at the image. “Come on. Time to peel potatoes.”

  “That, I know how to do.”

  * * *

  Riley bit back a smile when the food was passed around and everyone took small servings. A couple of bites was all it took for the men at the table to reconsider the size of their appetites and opt for seconds. Amy beamed throughout the entire meal.

  Once dinner was finished and the dishes were cleared, the debate began over what game they should play.

  “Anything but Pictionary,” Quinn insisted.

  “I like Pictionary,” Brent commented as he helped Seth load the dishwasher.

  “Yeah, ’cause you always get your wife as a partner.” Quinn waved in Amy’s direction. “Anyone can win with Amy on their team.”

  “Okay, how about Scrabble?” Tristan suggested.

  “We have too many players,” Quinn complained.

  Riley motioned to the window. “There’s a volleyball pit behin
d my building.”

  “Do you have a ball?” Brent asked hopefully.

  “Yep.” Riley crossed to the coat closet. She pulled a basketball out first, then a football, and finally came up with a volleyball.

  Quinn pointed at the sporting equipment as Riley started stuffing things back into the closet. “For someone who likes ice-skating, you’re well equipped.”

  “Yes, but you’ll notice I don’t have a baseball,” Riley replied with a smirk. She pushed the door closed and tossed the ball to Quinn.

  Quinn shrugged and headed for the door. “No one’s perfect. Come on. Me and the Millers against the rest of you.”

  Riley started to follow after him, but Tristan grabbed her hand and held her back until everyone else had filed out of the room. She looked at him, confused. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “I have to know. Did Amy really make dinner tonight, or did you just let her think she did?”

  “No, she really made dinner.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Tristan shook his head. “Miracles never cease.”

  “Be nice!” Riley laughed. “She was just making a simple mistake and didn’t realize it. I think she’s getting the hang of it now.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Tristan lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it repeatedly. “My whole squad is forever in your debt.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Better be careful. You never know when I’ll expect you to pay up.”

  “Soon, I hope.” Tristan grinned as he moved in for a quick kiss. “Come on. Let’s go see how long it takes before Quinn is eating sand.”

  * * *

  Eric Rhodes traced patterns with his fingers on the worn denim of his jeans. He hated the man sitting smugly behind the big oak desk with all of his neatly framed college degrees and medical licenses on the wall behind him. He hated the principal who had made him come here. He hated the school counselor with her sickly sweet voice and the way she pretended to care. She knew about the nightmare he was living, but she didn’t do squat. No one ever did. Now he’d been suspended from school and was stuck with a shrink who wouldn’t stop asking him questions. Even worse, the shrink was friends with him. Like Dr. Walberg would help even if Eric did admit what happened within the walls of his house.