Contents
The SEAL's Return
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
The SEAL’s Return
Grace Alexander
CHAPTER ONE
Late August
Northern Virginia
The sun cracked through the open slats of Jake Westbrook’s blinds in the bedroom of his sparsely furnished apartment. His Safehouse Security team had landed in Baltimore a little after one o’clock in the morning after a joint operation overseas. With the time change and travel, coupled with the exhaustion of the intense job, he’d crashed face-first into his pillow.
But it wasn’t the sun that kept him awake. His roommate, Russell Hagge, another operative for Safehouse Security who hadn’t been on the same mission banged on the wall that separated their bedrooms. “Russell, go away.”
The incessant noise wouldn’t stop. Was Russell banging on the wall again? Or, maybe that was pounding mortar fire pummeling around Jake in his dreamless sleep.
“Stop,” Jake muttered and turned over with his pillow, burying himself under the cool sheets. Two days without sleeping on top of a week of pitiful sleep rotations had zapped Jake’s ability to raise his voice any louder. Russell knew what that was like and could give him the morning with peace and quiet.
“I hate to do this to you,” Russell called as he knocked again on the wall. “But you have to wake up.”
Jake rolled onto his back again, reminding himself of a little thing called BUD/S training. He’d gone much longer with less sleep, and Russell wouldn’t bother him if it weren’t important. “Hang on.”
He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and, out of habit, grabbed his personal cell phone that had been on its charger since he’d left for the special forces op. The screen awakened as he rubbed his tired eyes.
Thirteen notifications.
Jake stopped and reread the screen. Anything more than two notifications were unusual, and a dull sense of dread rolled through him. Jake as he opened his bedroom door but didn’t glance up at Russell. The phone had his attention. He paced down the hallway, scrolling through who had reached out. His folks. Ally.
He turned to Russell who had followed him down the hall. “What’s wrong with my family?”
Russell’s clean-shaven face didn’t have the answers. “All I know is your father called me.”
Jake looked back at his notifications then scrolled through the text messages, finding generic but strongly worded “call as soon as you get this” requests.
Dad might’ve called and demanded a return phone call, but it was Jake’s cousin Ally who would tell Jake the unfiltered truth about whatever problem occurred while he was out of the country.
He pulled up her name and pressed Send, holding the ringing phone to his ear. “Voicemail.” He checked the time and figured Ally was either picking her daughter up from preschool or walking into work.
“Really?” Russell crossed his arms. “Your dad tracked me down at work then didn’t pick up the phone?”
Jake’s stomach dropped. “He called Safehouse?”
Russell nodded. He did when I missed his call.”
That didn’t do anything to calm Jake’s anxiety. He cleared his throat and explained, “Actually, I called my cousin first. Ally will tell me what my parents will skirt around.”
With that many messages, texts, and two calls to Russell, his family in Tidings was competing to get to him first. Jake didn’t know what that meant. Whatever the problem, his parents would try to sugarcoat and Ally would tell him the ugly truth. He needed to talk to her first. “I’ll make a pot of coffee and try Ally again. If she doesn’t answer after that, then I’ll call my dad.”
Russell nodded as he tossed his keys into the air. “I’m headed back in. If you need anything, let me know.”
A cup of coffee later, Jake paced the small living room and decided to call Ally at work instead of on her cell phone.
“Tidings Pediatrics,” the receptionist answered from the Westbrook Center. “Can I help you?”
“Is Ally Harding in?”
“She is, but she’s with a patient. If you have a question, I can send you to the nurse’s voicemail and someone will get back to you—”
“This is Jake Westbrook. I’ll hold.”
“Oh,” the receptionist said in a way that put him on alert. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end as she hurried off the phone, and a recording of child health safety tips began to play. By the time he heard the first tip twice, his patience was running low.
“You’re home.” Ally’s sweet voice interrupted a useless-to-him tip about testing bathwater before putting a baby in it. Heaven help the woman who he had children with. Except, never mind. A family wasn’t in his future. A retired Navy SEAL turned private security operative, military action was his life. Not that he was wild or didn’t want to settle down, but he wasn’t the type to leave the service.
“What’s wrong?”
“Jake, I’m so sorry.”
Her voice stopped him cold, and tension pulsed at his temples. “For what? What is going on up there?”
“You didn’t talk to your dad?”
“No, Ally. I called you first. I always call you first.”
Time crawled, and each passing second weighed heavier than before, until she whispered, “I’m sick, Jake.”
“Sick?” His relief rolled, but so did his exasperation. “You’re a nurse at a pediatrician’s office where the little germ magnets touch everything. You’re bound to get sick occasionally—”
“No, I am really sick, Jake.”
Her voice gave him pause. “What does that mean?”
“I should have known better. I’m a nurse for goodness sake.”
Worry tightened in his chest. “Ally?”
“I ignored signs and symptoms—”
“Ally.” Tension bit at his temples, and exhaustion muddled his thoughts. “What are you talking about?”
“I have cancer, Jake. Late-stage, and it has spread.”
He froze and closed his eyes. His head cocked, and Jake replayed her words. Cancer. Late-stage cancer? Impossible. “You’ve seen a doctor?”
“Of course—”
“You could get a second opinion.”
“Jake, stop.” Her no-nonsense directive hurdled through the phone, and then she softly added as though she’d given up, “The diagnosis is clear.”
His throat throbbed as if a hangman’s knot formed around his neck, strangling his breaths away. Jake dropped to the couch and buried his
forehead in hand. This phone call seemed harder to survive than his covert op that, just forty-eight hours ago under the worst of circumstances, seemed nearly mission impossible but had been deemed critical.
His team had attacked the problem. They overcame the odds as they always did. Ally had the same fire inside her that he did. All she needed was a plan padded with an array of contingencies. “You fight it and take medicines. You can do chemo and radiation. There’s got to be a surgery.” Even if he didn’t know what kind of cancer, doctors had to be able to take it out. “You can’t sound like you’ve been issued a death sentence.”
“Can you come home? I can’t do this over the phone.”
He wanted to shout, but his throat cracked with pain. “Ally, you’re going to be fine.”
She laughed quietly. “You know what I think about the word fine.”
His eyes pinched. She’d always said that “fine” meant big trouble. That innocuous word was tricky, with more hidden meanings than he’d ever been able to muster. Ally had tried to teach him the ways of women when they were teenagers. Most of her lessons didn’t stick. He would forget about so-called special days like half-birthdays or monthly anniversaries. He hadn’t a clue when to give gifts nor what to give when he remembered. But to this day, Jake knew that fine meant problems. He cleared the boulder from his throat. “I meant that you’ll get better.”
“There are a lot of things I wish I had done differently. But more than anything, I need to talk to you about Charlotte.”
Ally’s daughter Charlotte was the light of her life, and Jake didn’t want to hear plans made because of cancer. He pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes teared, and unaccustomed to emotional pain, the burn struck him with devastating precision. “Don’t talk about regrets. Okay?”
“I need you to do this with me,” she whispered.
Ally was his cousin, but they had been raised as though they were twins. His dad and her mom were fraternal twins, and Ally and Jake were born so close together that with a family this close-knit, she seemed more like his sister than his cousin.
“I’m not coming home to plan your death and how to help Charlotte.”
Ally sniffled. “Of course you are, Jake. You were always my protector. I know you won’t stop now that I need you the most.”
He dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I’ll do whatever you need me to.”
CHAPTER TWO
October
Tidings, Vermont
Home for good in the Green Mountain State. Jake threw his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked out of the airport terminal. The cool, clean air had always been a welcome embrace. But not today. Nor had it been the last time he’d flown to Vermont for his cousin’s funeral.
He stood on the sidewalk along the passenger loading zone and drew in a deep breath. There was only one way to survive his new lot in life, and that was understanding this was an assignment. Just as the military had expectations and gave orders, Jake’s responsibility to his family now called the shots.
Or technically, a legal document that named Jake as Charlotte’s guardian dictated his future. But he didn’t need the paperwork to fulfill Ally’s dying wish and his duty to his loved ones. What he did need was a primer on how to fill the position.
But to start with, Jake had planned his first day’s activities to a T. He’d armed himself with a to do list that he reviewed a hundred times. Each activity had associated time frames for completion so that he would be ready for Charlotte.
What wasn’t on the list was standing on the sidewalk and staring at nothing. He ignored the shackling sadness, and beelined toward the rental car pickup.
The lone attendant at the kiosk inside promised that Jake could have his pick of the lot. Now that he stood in the mostly-empty parking, he saw why. Each SUV was basically the same. Four-wheel drive and dark in color.
He chose the first rental that he came to and readied himself for the frenzy of family, greetings, and responsibility. The first item on his agenda was a visit at his parents’ house for all the necessary hugs and catching up. He’d allotted forty-five minutes unless his Aunt Virginia, Charlotte’s grandma, that the last of her bags would be stowed safely in her own home by lunchtime. Jake checked that off his list before eleven in the morning.
He hit the grocery store, moving down the aisle as though he was on orders, grabbing essentials, even though Aunt Isabella had said she’d left plenty in the fridge and cupboards for him to cook. Jake was taking no chances. He had a plan, and that revolved around preparing recipes that were fast, reliable, and things he knew how to cook. As much as his aunt loved baked cinnamon apples as a side dish with dinner, if she left apples, they would eat them as apples were normally eaten—by biting into them.
Now, everything had been checked off his list—homecoming with minimal fanfare, groceries purchased and put up where he thought they should go, and a quick pit stop at Green Mountain Real Estate to pick up the keys to High Beam Auto Garage.
He was home an hour earlier than he’d expected. That was a good thing since Dean and Brian, the twins from high school, had stopped in to catch up since the last time he was in town. Jake needed the distraction. The closer his watch ticked to the time Charlotte would arrive home on the school bus, the more anxious he became.
The guys caught him up on friends they had in common, and Jake gave them a tour of Ally’s house. They all stared into Charlotte’s glittery pink and purple bedroom as if it might sprout the same ghost and goblin heads that were starting to pop up throughout Tidings, announcing the start of the Halloween season.
“Are you sweating?” Dean chuckled as he leaned against a wall decorated with vinyl star stickers.
“Of course he’s sweating,” Brian cracked. “What does he know about raising a kid?”
“I know enough.” But the tension knot at the back of his neck said he wasn’t so sure.
Dean walked to a bookshelf, picked up a reading primer, and held up the cover with a sarcastic glance. The book showed a giraffe wearing ballet shoes. “You’re ready for this?”
“Of course.” Then he cleared his throat, shifting his weight anxiously.
“You look like you’ve been thrown into a war zone,” Dean cracked.
Alexa adding, “Without training.”
“I haven’t had training,” Jake mumbled. He didn’t understand why there was so much glitter sparkling in one room, and he couldn’t explain why a giraffe would wear any shoes, much less pointy-toed ones.
Dancing wildlife wasn’t his concern, though. Not when he hadn’t had enough time to wrap his head around life changers like Ally’s death, departing the military, and starting a civilian life. It wasn’t just parenting that he had to adjust to. His brilliant decision to buy High Beam had seemed smart, and being his own boss seemed like a smooth move. Tidings had missed the friendly, quirky auto shop when it’d closed, and this would be a good way to stay busy and still call the shots.
But… now he’d added “running a business” to the growing list of major life changes that he didn’t know how to handle. Jake had been researching how-tos like a madman. His internet search history ping-ponged from topic to topic. Parenting. Entrepreneurship. Raising a girl. Handling grief. Somewhere between Googling how to be a successful small business owner and how to raise a gifted, orphaned five-year-old, Jake had nearly short-circuited his brain.
“I think you missed this day at SERE school,” Brian cracked.
“Tell me about it.” Survival. Evasion. Resistance. Escape. The truth was, Jake didn’t want to evade, resist or escape, and he would do a lot better than just surviving. “You know what?”
Dean grinned. “What?”
“I might have a rocky start. But I’m not worried.”
“He’s not worried?” Brian shook his head and crossed his arms.
“Yeah. I’m not.” Jake snatched the book from Dean. “I’ll adapt. It’s what I do.”
“Maybe you will—you skipped the hardes
t part.” Dean chuckled.
Jake paged through the book. “And what’s that.”
“At least you aren’t changing diapers.”
Jake closed the book. “I can change a diaper.”
Brian wrinkled his nose, then said, “If you’ve got this, what’s your plan?”
“If anyone would have one,” Dean added. “It’s you.”
His plan? “Still hammering out the details.”
“Tick, tock, buddy.” Brian laughed.
He had a plan. Well, it leaned more toward a work in progress that had been patchworked together from all over the world. Jake liked the minutia of solving problems and how to fix them—or wire them, which was one of the reasons he was highly successful in the field of explosives. It wasn’t only lighting a fuse and then waiting for the explosion. There was science involved. He was known for his precise measurements after studying the circumstances, often under extreme pressure, but also for MacGyvering it, and whatever was on hand for any purpose, in any situation, from a simple distraction to a means of survival.
Maybe that was why his plan was based on more than internet research. Family and friends gave him polite advice but mostly reassurances that he would do a great job parenting. Reassurance wasn’t what he was looking for. Jake needed actionable intelligence, and he found the ones most likely to give their raw opinions and specific action items were the self-proclaimed expert parenting bloggers.
The websites were a treasure trove of information—from ways to discipline children who swiped before they knew how to wipe, to raising a gifted child in the era of information overload. He went with the consensus of the internet whenever advice sites contradicted one another and picked the option that had the most agreeable comments, likes, or upvotes. That was mostly how he outlined a crash course in Parenting 101.
While the best how-to advice came from the expert parenting bloggers, the most thought-provoking advice came unexpectedly during a special project deployments. Kunar, in particular. Their team allies, led by female tribal leaders in the mostly rural province, saw the worry and pain in his eyes when he couldn’t sleep.
A SEAL's Return Page 1