Quinn climbed out of the passenger side and nodded to the house. “Come on, Riley. Let’s go see if we can get Mom started on the embarrassing stories about Tristan.”
“I’m sure she has more important things to do today,” Tristan said loudly as he lifted Quinn’s duffel out of the back and hurled it at him. “Like telling us all about the time you tried to sneak out of your third-floor window when you were grounded.”
Quinn just grinned. “I would have made it, too, if Dad hadn’t picked that exact moment to let the dog out.”
Riley looked up at the incredibly high third-story windows and then back at Quinn. “I’m not sure I can handle stories about your childhood.”
Tristan chuckled as he grabbed the rest of their luggage. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad.” He started toward the front steps and shot a grin at Riley. “Mom and Dad don’t know about most of the scary stuff.”
Riley suspected he was telling her the truth, and she turned to look at Quinn. When the look in Quinn’s eyes confirmed it, she lifted a finger and wagged it at him. “I don’t want to know.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Quinn’s dark eyes sparked with mischief. He led the way up the steps and pushed open the front door. “Mom! We’re home.”
Riley followed with Tristan a step behind her. She clutched the strap of her purse and tried to steel her nerves. When she stepped through the open door, she couldn’t help but smile. Staring back at her was a photograph of Quinn’s family, probably taken when he was a senior in high school. Standing between Quinn and one of his three younger sisters was Tristan.
“Oh, I’m so glad you made it!” A tiny, slightly rounded woman hurried down the stairs and went straight into Quinn’s outstretched arms. She pulled back, put both hands on his cheeks, and pulled him down to kiss his cheek. She then turned and repeated the ritual with Tristan.
“You need a haircut,” she scolded him, tugging at the ends of his hair.
“Yes, ma’am.” Tristan nodded, trying to keep a straight face. He reached out and took Riley’s hand to pull her forward. “Mom, this is Riley Palmetta. Riley, this is Eileen Lambert.”
“So this is the girl you’ve brought home to me!” Eileen laughed and reached for Riley’s free hand. “Come on. Let’s get you settled, and you can tell me how my boys are behaving.”
Riley just glanced over her shoulder and shrugged at Tristan as she was led away.
“Hey, Mom,” Tristan called after them. “I’m going to want her back.”
Eileen didn’t slow down, but her laughter rang out. “I’m sure you are.”
* * *
“I really hate this thing,” Tristan complained as he pulled on the jacket of his dress uniform. He looked in the small mirror hanging on the wall of the room he and Quinn had shared through their teenage years and knotted his tie.
“I know, but Mom and Dad like us to show off our medals.”
“Mine are pretty much the same as yours,” Tristan noted. “How about you wear your uniform, and I’ll just go the suit-and-tie route?”
“Nice try.” Quinn shook his head and pulled the door open just as his mom was raising a hand to knock.
“Oh, good. You’re ready.” Eileen brushed at some imaginary lint on Quinn’s jacket. “We’re leaving right now. We’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
Both men nodded in agreement.
She started to leave and then turned back to face them. “By the way, Tristan, I wanted to tell you—”
Eileen was interrupted by her husband’s voice calling from the garage. “Are you coming?”
“I’m coming!” she called out to him. She shook her head and gave a sigh. “What was I saying? Oh, never mind. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Quinn watched his mother disappear down the hall, and then he turned to Tristan. “Come on. Let’s go find your girlfriend and head over there.”
As Quinn walked out of the room, Tristan turned back to the mirror and finished adjusting his tie. He wondered vaguely when the last time was that Quinn had referred to anyone as his girlfriend. He supposed he should be uneasy about the fact that neither he nor Quinn had used that term since before their missions. When he jogged down the stairs to find Quinn complimenting Riley on her dress, he decided he didn’t mind the term being applied to her at all.
With a grin on his face, he slipped an arm around Riley’s shoulders, appreciating the way her pale pink dress brought out the color in her cheeks. “Mine,” he said simply as he shot Quinn an amused look. “Go find your own girl.”
Before Quinn could answer, Riley smiled. “I think I’m going to be the envy of every girl at this party when I walk in with the two of you.”
“I hope so. I would hate to think we’re wearing these ice-cream suits for nothing,” Quinn said as he headed for the door.
Tristan leaned down and kissed Riley’s cheek. “You look beautiful.”
A faint blush tinted her cheeks. “Thanks.”
“Come on.” He led her outside to the truck. “I should probably warn you that Mom is going to spend most of the evening showing us off.”
“I really like her.” Riley’s smile widened. “I don’t think anyone could give your Dad a better retirement present than the two of you being here. I swear he hasn’t stopped beaming since I met him.”
“He’s a good man.”
“In that case, let’s get you and Quinn to this party and make his day.”
* * *
Eileen Lambert had outdone herself. What was normally a simple community center had been transformed to rival the banquet hall of a five-star hotel. A small band was playing in the corner of the room near the open space that had been set aside for dancing. Round tables were scattered around the far side of the room, beautiful centerpieces in the middle of each one. The buffet table was first-rate, and uniformed waiters were standing by to serve the guests.
The guests were just beginning to arrive, those clad in military attire mixing with those in evening gowns and tuxedos. As expected, Eileen was showing off her children—Quinn and Tristan in particular. Riley was introduced to countless guests, and she was surprised to find that she was enjoying herself. Tristan was treated like a man who had come home after a long time away, and those acquainted with him were just as welcoming to him as they were to Quinn.
After grabbing a bite to eat, Tristan led Riley out onto the dance floor and slipped his arms around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, a little sigh escaping her as he drew her closer. They danced for several minutes until Tristan suddenly stiffened.
“Do you mind if we get out of here for a while?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just need some air.”
Riley nodded, her eyebrows furrowing as she wondered what had caused his sudden change of mood. She followed him to the door leading to the deck and stepped out into the evening air.
Tristan kept Riley’s hand in his as he quickly started across the deck.
A bit worried, Riley asked him, “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
Tristan didn’t get a chance to respond. Instead, he froze when his name was called.
“Tristan,” a woman repeated as she followed them onto the deck and closed the door behind her.
Tristan’s shoulders stiffened as he slowly turned to face her. The woman before them was elegantly attired in a dress of scarlet red, her light brown hair cut fashionably short. Her eyes were the same deep blue as Tristan’s and mirrored them in intensity. Tristan glanced down at Riley and said quietly, “Riley Palmetta, this is Admiral Joanne Crowther, my mother.”
* * *
Tristan seethed inside as he watched his mother nod only briefly at Riley before turning her attention back to him.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, “I’d like to speak to you alone.”
Tristan’s hand tightened around Riley’s waist. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Riley.”
The admiral let out a sigh and studied Riley for a momen
t as though debating whether or not she could be trusted. Finally she said, “I understand you passed up another chance at Officer Candidate School.”
Tristan nodded. “That’s right.”
“I want to know why,” the admiral insisted. “You have a college degree. You have a dozen medals. You’re a SEAL, for heaven’s sake. Why won’t you climb out of the enlisted ranks?”
“I’m happy where I am,” Tristan said simply. He looked at her wearily, wondering how he could truly be her son. She was a stranger to him in every sense of the word.
“Do you have any idea how it looks for me? That my own son keeps turning down these opportunities?” Her voice was clipped and annoyed.
“Tell me something. Do I keep getting these opportunities because I have a college degree and a dozen medals or because my last name is Crowther?”
The admiral’s voice softened, but exasperation filled it now. “What does that matter?”
He forced himself to unclench his teeth. “If it would be easier on you, I can always change my name,” Tristan suggested, trying to squelch the disappointment and hurt that welled up inside him. “I don’t know why you acknowledge you have a son in the first place. You never had time for me before.”
“You know I couldn’t be there for you all of the time.” Something flashed in her eyes but was quickly hidden. “That’s how the Navy works.”
“I know exactly how the Navy works,” Tristan shot back. He shook his head, trying to push away the anger. Over the years he had seen a number of female officers succeed in the military, many of them choosing to succeed in their family lives as well as their professional ones. Tristan knew that his mother’s career was simply an excuse for why she had abandoned her responsibilities as a parent. “Why don’t you just tell me what you really want?”
Tristan sensed Riley’s surprise at the directness of his question, but he had long felt that it was time to stop avoiding the issue. He braced himself for his mother’s answer.
“A reporter is doing a story on me. The whole women-in-command thing.” She gave a shrug. “He may be contacting you.”
“You don’t have to worry. I already know the drill.”
“Not exactly,” she interrupted, a touch of nerves humming through her voice. “I thought you should be prepared if he asks you about my fiancé.”
“You’re getting married?” Tristan’s eyebrows shot up as he let out a short, humorless laugh. “Anyone I know?”
She shook her head as she reached into her purse and handed him an envelope. “The wedding is in October. I would really like for you to be there.”
Tristan took the envelope and slipped it into his pocket. He looked back up at her, fighting the urge to refuse then and there. Finally, he let out a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She opened her mouth to speak and then quickly shut it once more. Her eyes shifted to Riley and then back to Tristan. With a nod, she turned and walked back inside.
Tristan stared after her for a moment before looking down at Riley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think she would be here.”
“Are you okay?” Riley turned to face him, her eyes sympathetic.
“Yeah. I just can’t figure out how I can possibly be related to her.”
Riley reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You may not have a lot in common with her, but at least she gave you the chance to have a real family with the Lamberts.”
Tristan’s voice was low. “They made a huge difference in my life.”
“I can see why you wanted to stay with them.” Riley offered a small smile. “They’re easy to love.”
He slipped his arms around her waist. “So are you.” He didn’t give her a chance to answer, instead leaning down to press his lips to hers. Something sparked inside him, a sensation of belonging unlike anything he had ever known. The loneliness faded, and he no longer felt like he was borrowing something that didn’t really belong to him. As he kissed Riley in the moonlight, he realized that it was in her arms that he finally found the warmth of home.
16
The course participants had been checked in, their weapons had been locked up, and in less than an hour the first lectures would begin. The class sizes had been capped at only fifteen students per week. The students would not only train for a number of emergency situations, but they would also be given the resources to conduct similar classes in their own areas. But first they needed to realize just how much they had to learn.
Riley felt a little concerned as she thought about their first batch of students. Several of them looked like they were here more for a paid vacation than to really learn something. The ages varied from mid twenties to early fifties, but Riley didn’t care about their ages as much as their attitudes. Complacency could cost lives, and she hoped that the Saint Squad could help these people understand just how terrifying disaster situations could be.
The first live exercise wouldn’t begin until the next afternoon, and Riley was still trying to figure out where to go while these exercises were going on. It was one thing to work in Sedgely Hall, but she wasn’t about to witness the reenactment of her nightmares. Already she was having trouble adapting to the sound of people in the hallways heading upstairs to find the location of the first lecture.
She was alone in the office today since Amy was running the metal detectors and the SEALs were all preparing for the first day of instruction. After the morning lecture, the students would have a hands-on lesson about breaking into the building. Riley wished this lesson could have been given before the Virginia Tech shooting. The police had arrived on the scene within three minutes that horrible day, but it had taken them five minutes to break through the doors the gunman had chained closed. With proper training, they could have made it inside in a fraction of the time.
Riley knew firsthand how much destruction could occur in those extra minutes. The high death toll at Oswell had been largely due to the time it had taken the police to arrive on the scene, as well as the confusion about where the shooting had occurred. The gunman had killed twenty-three students and wounded a dozen more before the police had stormed the building and shot him down.
More footsteps sounded in the hall, and Riley closed her eyes against the memories. Think of something else, she told herself. She tried to think of the past weekend, of the time she had spent with Tristan. He loved her. She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around that fact. She wasn’t even sure she could believe it.
He had been so churned up after seeing his mother, and he hadn’t actually said the words “I love you,” but his meaning had been clear enough. She’d never thought it could happen so fast—that one day life would be normal and the next everything important in her life would take second place to one person.
Then, suddenly, he was standing in front of her. “Can I borrow you for a few minutes?” he asked. “I need some help outside.”
“Sure,” Riley answered, ready to agree to just about anything to get out of this building.
She noted that he wore some kind of combat vest, and she raised her eyebrows quizzically. “You look like you’re about to go to war.”
Tristan gave her a quick grin. “I am.” He patted the vest and gave a shrug. “This is a SEAL’s version of a toolbox.”
Riley smiled and followed him outside. “What do you need me to do?” she asked as they stepped out into the sunshine.
“I just need a lookout.” He motioned across campus. “I need to get a peek inside the dorm rooms now that everyone has settled in. Kel is thinking about making our surprise attack tomorrow morning.”
“I thought that was planned for Wednesday.”
“Yeah, but a couple of these guys need their wake-up call earlier than that.”
“Too much arrogance?”
“Oh, yeah.” Tristan grinned. “By the time we get done with them, we’ll definitely have their attention.”
“Of that, I have little doubt.”
* * *
Time was running out. If he
didn’t act soon, it would be too late. He looked across the desk at Eric. It would be too late for both of them.
He could see the latest bruises on the boy’s wrist, the dark imprints of fingers. The evidence of last week’s beating, an ugly greenish-yellow patch, was barely visible where the sleeve of his T-shirt ended.
“Isn’t it about time you tell me about who’s giving you those bruises?”
“I ran into a wall.”
The response was so glib, so automatic, Philip almost laughed. “Sure you did.” He studied the boy and felt a bead of perspiration trickle down his back. “You know, I hate him too.”
Eric’s eyes whipped up to his, a flicker of interest showing before he resumed his blank stare. “Who?”
“Actually, you’re lucky. You just hate your father. Personally, I wish he was dead.” The doctor shook his head. “I shouldn’t tell you that, but it’s true. When I see the bruises he leaves on you, it makes me hate him even more.”
The boy’s jaw clenched, his hands balled up into fists, and fury erupted in his eyes. Philip leaned back in his desk and absorbed the sense of satisfaction that merged with the guilt. Now they were getting somewhere.
* * *
The sound of bullets echoed through the dormitory halls. The weapons were real, and the chaos was instant. Men scrambled in their rooms, some hiding from the perceived threat, others grappling for makeshift weapons and analyzing their possible responses.
The ski mask over Tristan’s face made him look both formidable and menacing. He shot blanks into one room and watched the middle-aged man scramble back in his bed, holding his blanket up as though it would offer protection. With a shake of his head, Tristan moved to the next room and tried not to laugh at the man’s poor taste in boxer shorts. Probably a Valentine’s Day gift, he thought as he fired a few shots for effect.
Down the hall, something crashed to the floor, and Tristan could see a couple of the participants congregating just around a corner. As he approached the next room, he could hear the man inside whispering on his cell phone. He fought back a smile as he thought of the 9-1-1 operators who were taking these emergency calls. Of course, they had all been forewarned that this was just a drill, but he imagined that the operators would have a bit of a struggle to make it all sound real from their end of the conversations.
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