Breaking Boundaries (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 5)

by Teresa Reasor

  Cal rose to get several paper towels from the kitchen. “Your nephew was a good man. A good Marine.” He handed Warren the towels.

  Warren pressed one to his face and struggled for several moments to regain control. “So you told my sister.” His face was ravaged by grief.

  “It was the truth.”

  “He was a kid.” Some of the anger came through again.

  “Yeah, that, too. But he did his duty like a man. Just like we all did.”

  “But you came back alive.”

  And Warren hated him for it. And Cal understood. It was all about why. Why had he been spared? Why couldn’t it have been Mitchell instead? “If there was some way I could bring him back to you, Mr. Warren. I’d gladly do it. The three men with me were under my command. If I could have protected them, I would have.”

  Cal swallowed and looked over Warren’s shoulder because to look directly in his face would wreck his composure as easily as Warren had wrecked the paper towels Cal gave him earlier.

  “We covered each other’s backs for ten months, played cards, watched videos on the computer, trash talked about women and shared our news from home. They might have been scared kids when we first got there, but by the tenth month they were men, still covering each other, working together as a team as tight and well-trained as any.”

  “Is that what you said to my sister when you visited her?”

  “No. I took her some pictures of Mitchell. I told her stories about some of the funny things that happened. How he kept us laughing and made the down time bearable.” The salt of his own tears burned the back of his throat as he tried to swallow them. His face felt stiff with the effort not to cry. “And I told her how honored I was to have served with him, to have known him.”

  Warren ground out. “She killed herself two weeks after your visit.”

  Cal couldn’t control the flinch, didn’t even try. Dear God. He rose to pace the small space between his couch and kitchen. It couldn’t be his fault. She’d been fine when he left. He sat back down, though every inch of skin on his body was jumping with pain and guilt. He forced his hand to remain on his thigh when his need to rub the top of his head rose up like a compulsion. He had to stop it.

  “She seemed fine when I left,” Cal said. “She wasn’t upset or crying. She said she was volunteering at a local AM VET, helping vets get to their therapy sessions and other things.”

  “He was her only child,” Warren spoke softly, watching his hands mangle the paper towels, “and she couldn’t cope with the loss. She sent messages to his email as though they might somehow find him. About how much she missed him. How much it hurt to live without him. How proud she was to have been his mother. I found them on her computer, in her sent file.”

  It took everything Cal had not to lose it. “I’m sorry. Jesus…I’m sorry.”

  Warren leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. “I am, too.” His shoulders shook with sobs.

  Cal was moved to offer him comfort, but Warren likely was still too bitter to accept anything from him. His eyes burned with sympathetic tears, though, and he let them fall, finally wiping them away with the back of his hand and drying the hand on his sleep pants while he waited for the other man to regain control. “What do you want from me, Mr. Warren?”

  “I’ve spent the last week with a therapist talking it through and trying to purge this rage I have toward you, toward every service man I see. I’ve laid the blame for Mitchell’s death, for my sister’s, at your door. I know neither were your fault. You were just a handy target for my pain.” His eyes were red-rimmed when he looked up. “I wish I could say I’ve conquered my anger, but I haven’t. But I’m working on it. I know I’ve been an asshole, to you, to Kathleen. I wish she were here so I could apologize to her as well.”

  “You’ll see her at work.”

  Warren shook his head. “I’ve decided to leave Wiley as soon as this investigation is complete. I need a change.”

  “It’s better to stick with what you know, Mr. Warren, with who you’re familiar with…at least for a time. You need a support system of friends and family around you.”

  Warren turned to study him. “Is that what the counselors say?”

  “Yeah. You should talk to the therapist before making any big changes.”

  “Maybe I will.” Warren got to his feet and walked to the door.

  Cal followed him.

  He rested his hand on the doorknob. “Tell Kathleen I’m sorry.”

  “I will.”

  The door closed behind Warren, leaving Cal with the salty taste of regret. Was there anything else he could have said or done? He’d never know.

  *

  Kathleen let the hot water flow over her and relieve the tension. She should have slept a little longer, because she was feeling the drag of the long night. But she’d make up for it tonight.

  Her errands had taken a little longer than expected, but she still had plenty of time. She used the blow dryer on her hair, but after thirty minutes it was still damp, so she pulled it back into a tail and secured it with a scrunchie. She’d chosen to wear cropped pants and a shirt of brushed cotton, soft and comfortable. They’d go to some place casual for a late lunch. Then, if Callahan felt up to a little celebratory sex… She feathered blush across her cheekbones and glossed her lips with soft pink.

  Cal preferred her red lipstick, but the pink looked more casual. She’d wow him with the red once she talked him into going dancing at a club. She wasn’t much for clubbing, but he needed the experience. He had great horizontal moves, and there was no reason why he couldn’t transition some of those into dancing. He just needed to relax.

  She smiled at the thought, took one last look at herself in the bathroom mirror, then went into her room and grabbed her cell phone and purse. The phone showed only a small charge even though she’d plugged it in while she drove home, then again in her room. She could charge it a while longer in the car until she got to the leasing agent’s office. It would be enough to call Cal after she signed the paperwork.

  Hearing a brief knock, she paused to glance through the peephole and frowned. What was Hillary Bryant doing here? With a baseball cap covering her light brown cap of hair. Kathleen plastered on a smile she didn’t feel and opened the door. Her eyes skimmed over the rusty spots on the other woman’s shirt that looked like chocolate. “Hillary, it’s nice to see you. Is there something wrong?”

  “No. I just need to see you for a minute.” Hillary lifted her hand at the same time she gripped Kathleen’s hair, forcing her back into the house. She pressed something to Kathleen’s neck and lightning danced across Kathleen’s vision while every muscle in her body locked up tight. She hit the floor, her muscles refusing to follow her instinctive need to catch herself. She crashed into one of the end tables, pain lanced through her head, and blackness took her.

  *

  When two o’clock came and went, Cal paced the living room and cursed Kathleen’s dead cell phone. Surely she’d charged it in the car. He’d called three times, and the phone rang, but she hadn’t picked up. Had she left it in the car? What was the name of the leasing agent? Troy something.

  He strode into the bedroom and searched for the card the agent had given him when they were introduced. He searched the dresser and nightstand. Nothing. He went to the laundry basket and pulled out the shirt from Saturday, ran his hand over the pocket, and felt something stiff. He pulled the business card free and keyed in the number.

  After the initial niceties, Cal asked if she was there. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crowes, she never showed up for our appointment.”

  Cal’s heart stuttered. “She left here to change clothes and said she was going straight there.”

  “I haven’t seen her. And I can’t hold the apartment any longer than twenty-four hours.”

  “She may have had car trouble. And her cell phone wasn’t working when she left. I’ll have her call you as soon as I locate her.”

  “Thanks. I know she was excited ab
out it. I’ll give her twenty-four hours more to get back to me, but I can’t really hold it any longer than that.”

  “Thanks. Something’s gone wrong; she wouldn’t be a no-show unless it had.”

  “I hope she’s okay.”

  Please let her be okay. He broke contact with the agent and dialed Doc’s number. When it went to voice mail, he left a message. “Kathleen didn’t show up for her appointment at the leasing agent’s, and she hasn’t shown up here, either. I’m heading over to your apartment to check on her. After what happened at the site last night, I’m a little concerned. I’ll call you from there.”

  He grabbed his keys from the table next to the door and rushed out to the car.

  If he’d asked her to move in with him… But it was too soon. She needed her own space, and because of the symptoms he was still experiencing at times, he did too.

  He hadn’t slept all night with a woman in three years. Even last night he’d worried about hurting Kathleen if he had to fight his way free of a dream. Why would she want to put up with shit like that when someone else would be so much better for her?

  No, now just a damn minute. He was so much better with her. She seemed happy with him. And the sex was fantastic, thanks to the off-the-charts chemistry between them.

  But was he good for her?

  He dwelled on the answer to that one for the rest of the drive, and was still waffling about it when he pulled up to Zach’s house. He was relieved to see Kathleen’s car in the driveway. All four tires looked normal. He swung out of his truck and went to the vehicle and looked inside. Nothing seemed out of place. He knocked on the door and waited. Each minute stretched to an hour. He rang the bell. Still nothing. Finally he went around the side of the house to the back door and looked into the kitchen. The place was clean, and there was no sign of Kathleen.

  His skin felt tight dialed Kathleen’s number again. The distant sound of a phone ringing inside the house prompted a fresh wave of concern. He hung up and dialed Doc’s number again.

  “Hello!”

  “Her car is here, her phone’s ringing inside the house, but she’s not answering the door. Do I have your permission to break into the house? Or do you have a key somewhere out here? Something’s wrong.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the back door.”

  “Next to the patio you’ll see some concrete planters. There’s a spare key to the front door under the second one. You’ll have to lift up on it to get it.”

  Cal followed his directions. “Got it. I’ll stay on the phone as I go in.” He jogged around to the front. His hands were shaking as he shoved the key into the lock and twisted it. His heart beat so hard he could feel it in his throat while he twisted the knob and shoved the door open.

  “Kathleen.” He stepped into the living room and froze. Her purse lay on the couch, her phone on the floor. One of the end tables was shoved sideways, and the area rug was stained with dark drops of blood on one corner.

  Dear God. If she was hurt…“There’s blood on the floor. I’m going through the house.”

  Doc swore, his voice a choked growl.

  Cal hit the bathroom next, touched a towel, still damp, folded over the edge of the tub. The house had a silent, waiting feel to it, as suspended as his breathing. He forced air into his lungs as he looked inside both bedrooms. Nothing. “She’s not here. I’m calling the police.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Cal bent at the waist and braced a hand against his knee as he attempted to deal with the numbing fear. He had to shake off this shit and dial the damn phone. He had to find Kathleen.

  He dialed nine-one-one and tried to hold on to his patience and his sanity until someone answered the call.

  Chapter 23

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  Kathleen woke to the throb of a headache above one ear which was keeping time with her heartbeat. Nausea surged up her throat, and she gagged, but there was nothing in her stomach to come up.

  Afterward she lay in the darkness and waited for her thoughts to catch up with the sensations of stuffy heat and motion. Sweat ran from under her hair down her neck. She raised a hand to wipe it away, then reached upward to explore the surface above her. She was inside the trunk of a car.

  She closed her eyes against the darkness and ran her fingertips along the side of her head, the focal point of the pain, and found a large bump on her scalp and a broken place on the skin there. The hair around it was stiff with blood. Touching it triggered the nausea again, and she dropped her hand to her side on the carpet lining.

  Her mouth tasted sticky with a need for water. How long it had been since Hillary Tasered her? How long had she been in this miserably hot, stifling box? She had to get out.

  She raised both hands and ran them along the top of the trunk. What kind of car did Hillary drive? If she could remember, she might have some idea how it was structured and how to get out. Her hand struck something dangling from a section along the top and she pulled it. The narrow seat in front of her released and she pushed it forward. Air whooshed into the space, and Kathleen drew a deep breath of the cooler air, immediately feeling more alert.

  If the car stopped and Hillary got out, she’d try and climb through into the back seat. The single seat was too narrow for her to get through, she realized, so both would have to be down.

  She became aware of the steady momentum of the car. There was no stopping and starting, so they might be on an interstate. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind when the vehicle slowed and started down an incline. Hillary must be leaving the state highway, possibly to a more rural road or down onto city streets.

  She strained to see a street sign or a familiar building through the narrow slot, but the nausea was swamping her again. She probably had a concussion. She closed her eyes for a moment. The heat had sapped her strength and made her drowsy.

  But if she didn’t do something right now, she would soon be incapacitated by dehydration. She searched for the other release pull and gave a tug. The seat folded down. She crawled free of the trunk.

  *

  As he questioned Cal outside in the front seat of his cruiser, Officer King wore the same deadpan expression Walker had the night before.

  “What time did you get here?”

  “I’ve already answered that question twice. You’re wasting time. Kathleen has been taken. You can look at the scene and tell there was a struggle. She would never leave her cell phone or her purse. She calls her purse her flak jacket. It has everything she needs.”

  “She could be injured, confused, and wandering the neighborhood on foot, sir. I’m trying to pinpoint how long.”

  The officer could have a point, but after last night he didn’t believe it. “Look. My foreman and I were attacked last night at a construction site. You can contact Officers Walker and Loche and talk to them about it.

  “Kathleen and I were in the emergency room last night until zero four thirty. She drove me home and we crashed. She left my house just before ten. She was going to run an errand and then come here to shower and change to go to the realtor’s office. There’s a damp towel on the tub in the bathroom.

  “I think someone caught her at the door ready to leave. In order to get to the office for her appointment she’d have left at noon or a little before. So you have your time, now please, do whatever you need to do to get the word out! I promise you she’s not wandering the neighborhood. Someone has her. They’ve had her for…” he glanced at his watch “…at least three hours now.”

  “I’ll be right back, sir.” The officer got out of the vehicle.

  Cal hugged his aching arm. The pain medication he’d taken only worked if he didn’t move, and right now that wasn’t an option.

  Cal threw open the door and got out of the car. He was barely holding it together. This was taking too long.

  He glanced at Zach and the young police officer sitting in Zach’s SUV. It didn’t look like Zach was holding it together at all. He was reading the riot act
to the officer, questioning him.

  Three hours. Someone could be hurting her, and they’d had three hours to do it. Every time he thought about that, he wanted to punch something or someone.

  He scanned the quiet street. Empty driveways stared back at him. Everyone was at work. He took out his phone. If they’d tried to call him, his fucking number would be tied up with the viewers from Harpy’s show. Fuck!

  He turned the phone on anyway. He’d answer every call to get to the right one.

  *

  “If you fuck with me, I’ll Taser you again,” Hillary warned.

  Kathleen jerked at the sound of Hillary’s voice. She’d hoped to climb out without being heard.

  “Just lie back there and be still and I won’t have to hurt you again.”

  “Why are you doing this, Hillary?”

  “I have to do it. That’s all you need to know.”

  Kathleen reached for the doorknob and pulled up on it. Nothing happened. Hillary had turned on the childproof safety locks.

  “I need water.” How long had she been in the trunk? Long enough to feel groggy from the heat.

  “You’ll get some as soon as we get to where we’re going.”

  Weak and dizzy, Kathleen lay still on the folded seats’ hard surface. The air conditioning against her sweat-slick skin chilled her, and her hair lay wet against her neck, making the chill worse. She shivered. How long had she been out?

  The blinker went on and Hillary turned onto a short incline, stopped for a few seconds, then pulled inside a structure. The sound of a garage door closing followed. They were at a private residence if they had a garage door.

  “Where are we?” Kathleen asked.

  “That’s none of your concern either.”

  Hillary got out of the car, jerked the baseball hat off, tossed it on the front seat, and slammed the door. She pulled the Taser free of a holster on her hip and opened the back door. “Get out.”