Cover images: Steel Sheet Used for Target Practice Bullet Holes © Catscandotcom, Broken Shop Window © Assalve, People Silhouette © Maikid, Terrify © boryak. Images courtesy istockphoto.com.
Cover design © 2010 by Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published by Covenant Communications, Inc.
American Fork, Utah
Copyright © 2010 by Traci Hunter Abramson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format or in any medium without the written permission of the publisher, Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real, or are used fictitiously.
First Printing: September 2010
ISBN-13 978-1-59811-987-9
Dedication
For everyone who has discovered that marriage is worth the journey.
Acknowledgements
My continued appreciation goes out to all of the usual suspects, especially Rebecca Cummings, who helped me prepare this novel for submission in record time. Who needs sleep, right?
Thanks to my family for their continued willingness to let me spend time in my fictional world and for reminding me to eat while I’m there.
Thank you to my friends and extended family for believing in me even when I forget to.
Finally, thank you to the wonderful people at Covenant for all of your support in every aspect of bringing this book to light. My special gratitude goes to Kathryn Jenkins for your continued encouragement and to Samantha Van Walraven for all of your insight throughout the editing process.
Prologue
Commander Kelan Bennett moved silently through the dense foliage of the jungle, his weapon already drawn. Three of the men under his command moved in tandem with him, each of them dressed completely in black. Tristan Crowther was on point, checking the underbrush for booby traps or anything else that might threaten their mission. Quinn Lambert, the other enlisted man on his squad, had their back. Moving parallel with Kel was Brent Miller, his second in command.
Tension vibrated off each of them, a necessary adrenaline that heightened their senses and kept them poised for any obstacle. As US Navy SEALS, they were trained for this. The night was their ally, the water their friend.
The submarine that had slipped them into Nicaragua’s territorial waters undetected now waited for them out in the dark ocean a short distance away, but they couldn’t leave until they completed their mission. They wouldn’t leave until they had their missing man.
Seth Johnson was somewhere inside the fortress, the home and headquarters of arms dealer Akil Ramir. An impromptu undercover mission had given Seth the opportunity to unearth some much needed intelligence, but now it was time to bring him home. The coded message Seth had sent to them two days before included only brief information—a place, a date, and a time. And that time was less than two minutes away.
In front of him, Tristan stopped and held up a hand to signal everyone else to do the same. In the shadows, Kel could see him pull a knife from his belt and then lean down, presumably to diffuse some kind of trip wire.
The silence of the night was interrupted by a burst of gunfire. Tristan quickly finished his task and gave the sign to go ahead. They were nearly into position at the edge of the jungle where the lights of the fortress were visible. Ten more seconds and—gunfire sounded again, this time two quick bursts followed by shouts and the sound of a helicopter taking off.
“Cover him,” Kel ordered, hoping and praying that Seth was heading their way. He shifted his weapon, his eyes sweeping the grassy area surrounding the fortress. Then he saw them. Vanessa Lauton, the CIA spy who had infiltrated Ramir’s organization, was running straight for the beach, and Seth was right behind her, turning his weapon back toward the dozen guards who had just rounded the corner of the building in pursuit. Suddenly, Vanessa was down.
Kel fired in tandem with his men, successfully slowing down the guards. “We’ve got snipers on the roof. Give us some cover fire,” Kel told Quinn and Tristan. He motioned to Brent, who followed him out into the night, both of them firing their weapons as they sprinted to the beach where Vanessa had fallen.
When they reached Seth, Kel took a quick look, relieved to see that Vanessa wasn’t injured. He squeezed off another burst from his HK-47 and told Seth, “We’ve got a zodiac behind those trees. Get her out of here. We’ll cover you.”
“Got it.” Seth kept his hand on Vanessa’s arm and pulled her down the beach.
Kel and Brent faced the oncoming threat, retreating toward the jungle as they continued to fire. Then he heard the real danger: the Z-10 attack helicopter angling toward them. He and Brent both raced for the water to use the waves for cover as the Z-10’s guns started firing. A spray of saltwater washed up over his boots, and then Kel saw it—a steady stream of bullets marking the beach coming directly for him. He dove for the water right as metal struck flesh and a searing pain exploded in his leg.
1
Marilyn Bennett opened the mailbox outside her house, pulling the contents free. She flipped through the envelopes twice, not surprised to find that she hadn’t received what she really wanted.
Carrying the mail and two bags of groceries, she walked into the house and hit the button on the answering machine to listen to her messages. As the first message played, a reminder about a staff meeting the next day, she dropped her bags onto the kitchen counter and started putting away her groceries.
Impatiently, she listened to three more messages: one from Heather Addison, her longtime visiting teacher; and two from other officers’ wives reminding her about a fundraiser they wanted her to help with. When the last message played, she let out a sigh. No word from her husband. Again.
She wasn’t even sure how long he had been gone this time. She glanced into the living room where her wedding photo hung on the wall. Her husband had looked incredible that day in his dress whites, just as he had at the church dance where she had met him. Her constant worry eased for a moment as she remembered that night.
Kelan Bennett had seemed larger than life when he had walked into the cultural hall of the church in Baltimore. She had stared at him. Everyone had. The white uniform stood out against everyone wearing the normal church attire, but it was his presence that captured her attention. He looked like he could take on the world in battle and come out on top without much effort.
He wasn’t terribly tall, only about five feet ten inches, his light brown eyes direct. Though his brown hair was cut short, it didn’t look like the typical military-style haircut. In fact, had he not been wearing a uniform, she doubted she would have pegged him for the military type at all.
She remembered the blush that had crept into her cheeks when his eyes had landed on her and he’d given her that little smile of his. Then a petite blond had approached him. He had danced with the blond and two other girls while Marilyn had watched them wistfully. Then with a confidence that she admired, he had crossed the twenty feet between them. She had felt awkward and plain that night before he had asked her to dance, but he made her feel beautiful. He had complimented her eyes, even though she knew that the pale blue color was ordinary. A shiver had run through her when he had toyed with the tight spiral curls she was forever fighting into submission. Somehow overlooking the mousy color, he said it reminded him of the desert at sunset.
Perhaps what she remembered the most was the way they had talked. She had always known she was a good listener. Kel had seemed to appreciate that about her, but he had also been interested in hearing what she had to say.
The romance that had begun that night had been a whirlwind of excitement and adventure u
nlike anything she had ever experienced. They went out every night those first two weeks before he had to return to his base in Virginia Beach. Confidences had been shared surprisingly early, creating a foundation to build on. Then he’d had to return to work.
The loneliness had barely started to set in when he had convinced her to come spend a few weeks at the beach. He had a friend who was out of town who’d offered to let her stay in his condo. Then Kel had convinced her to meet him in odd places as he traveled to various assignments. He likened her to an anchor, his anchor. The image shouldn’t have been romantic, but Marilyn thought it was.
When he called and told her he was in Italy and wanted her to come spend a week with him, she had thrown caution to the wind, ignored her mother’s warnings about dating a man in the military, and jumped on an airplane. For the first time in her life, she had been daring and unafraid. He had taken leave to spend time with her, showing her the Italian countryside. At the end of the week he had knocked on her hotel room door with a dozen roses in his hand, and she knew. She knew he was going to propose that night, and she knew she was going to say yes.
A few short weeks later, they were married, and she thought she had found her happily ever after. Then reality set in. She had married a Navy SEAL. She had married a man who spent most of his time away from home, leaving whenever the phone rang and not returning until his job was done—a job he couldn’t tell her about.
Her inherent shyness and her insecurities had started coming back then. She could feel herself pulling back into her shell, that safe place where no one could hurt her, the place where no one could really know her. More than once she thought that she should walk away from this mistake she had made. Surely Kel deserved someone who was more confident and independent.
Maybe someone else would be able to give him the children he so desperately wanted. She still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been able to get pregnant, even though she and Kel had hoped to start a family more than two years before. The doctor attributed the problem to Kel’s career and their lack of time together. But Marilyn was afraid it was something more.
So often she had hoped for a child, someone who would be there to love even when Kel wasn’t home. Then she would remember her own childhood. What if she had a child only to have to raise it on her own? The doubts were always right there at the edge of her thoughts, but then Kel would come back from an assignment. He would do something sweet like bring her flowers or pick her up in the middle of the day to take her to lunch. As much as she hated this life, she kept stumbling over the same problem. She still loved her husband.
Her phone rang, and she abandoned the groceries to pick it up, only to find her mother on the other end. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. How are you doing today?”
“Fine,” Marilyn said vaguely. “Just a little frustrated that I haven’t heard from Kel for a while.”
“I don’t know how you do it, living like this,” Barbara said to her daughter, a combination of sympathy and disdain in her voice.
“One day at a time,” Marilyn muttered. Not emotionally equipped at the moment to deal with her mother and one of her hour-long lectures on why she shouldn’t have married a military man, Marilyn glanced over at her kitchen counter. “Hey, Mom, I just walked in the door, and I have groceries I need to put away. Can I call you back later?”
“Of course,” Barbara agreed easily enough before saying good-bye.
Marilyn replaced the phone in the charger and then began unloading her groceries once more. She had just finished putting the last TV dinner into the freezer when she glanced out the window and saw them pull up, saw the two men get out of the government car. She stood anchored to the spot where she stood, hoping, praying that the two men weren’t coming to knock on her door. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as one man held up a paper, presumably to check the address. He then looked at her mailbox and nodded to the other man.
No! The voice screamed inside her head, but still she didn’t move. For five years now, she had been dreading this possibility. Every time her husband shipped out, her heart ached until he returned home. She couldn’t count the number of times she had begged him to leave the SEAL teams or how many arguments had ensued when he refused to give up the life he felt he was destined for.
The men headed up her short sidewalk and rang the doorbell. As though she were moving on automatic pilot, she somehow found herself standing in the entryway, her hand on the doorknob. She didn’t want to pull the door open. She didn’t want to face the news these men had come to bring her, but she couldn’t stop herself from answering the door.
“Mrs. Bennett?” one man said. She must have nodded because he continued, “I need you to come with me, ma’am. Your husband has been injured.”
She stared at him, blinking twice as she replayed his words. Injured. She was sure he had said injured, not killed. Kel was still alive. She couldn’t ask how badly he was hurt. She couldn’t get past the incredible relief that flooded through her at the news that her husband was still living and breathing. Instead, she simply stared as tears of relief flooded her eyes.
The men at the door misinterpreted her tears. They began to explain the situation, the fact that her husband was being transported to the naval hospital in Bethesda, Maryland. They were going to take her there to see him, to see for herself that he was still alive.
One of the men reminded her to get her purse and then walked her out to the car. His words blurred together as he helped her buckle into the backseat. Gunshot wound . . . medevac . . . surgery. Then they were on their way, Marilyn praying that her worst nightmare wasn’t about to come true.
* * *
Kel struggled to open his eyes from the drug-induced sleep. His mind was still foggy, as if he were underwater and couldn’t quite break through the surface. Then the memories came rushing back with sudden clarity. He remembered the searing pain when his leg was hit. He remembered Brent and Seth helping him into the zodiac boat after they completed their mission. And he remembered that they had successfully recovered the two people who had the intelligence they needed, the information that could help stop an impending terrorist threat.
His arms were heavy, and he struggled to lift them, but he reached down to where the bullet had imbedded in his leg only inches above his knee.
“Take it easy.” The words were meant to soothe him, but he could hear the underlying concern.
Kel shifted his eyes toward the sound of his wife’s voice. “Hey,” he managed as her face came into focus.
“Hey, yourself.” She managed a timid smile as she pushed herself out of the chair beside his bed and reached for his hand. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to wake up.”
“How long?”
“A couple of hours.” She rubbed her thumb back and forth across the back of his hand. “The doctor said the surgery went well. If everything goes okay, you can come home in a week or two.”
His brain began to clear, and the ramifications of his injury hit him full force. Unwilling to consider that the injury might be career-ending, Kel asked, “Did he say how long until I can go back to active duty?”
Marilyn’s hand tensed in his, and she shook her head.
Kel saw it then. The fleeting hope in his wife’s eyes that he wouldn’t be able to go back, that his career as a Navy SEAL would be over. “You don’t want me to go back.”
“We don’t need to talk about this now.” Marilyn looked toward the door, and she pulled her hand free. “I’ll go tell the doctor that you’re awake.”
Kel opened his mouth to stop her from leaving, to try once again to explain to her how vital his job was, not only to him but to the security of their country. She reached for the door handle, and his lips drew into a firm line instead. Silence filled the room as she looked back at him for a long moment before pushing the door open and disappearing into the hallway.
* * *
Marilyn listened to the doctor repeat what she had heard several ho
urs ago after Kel had come out of surgery. Her first response was an incredible wave of relief. Kel was alive, and he would be able to walk again. Then he explained his concerns. The gunshot wound had caused some nerve damage, but they wouldn’t know for several weeks if it was permanent. The doctor was also concerned with the swelling of Kel’s knee, a problem that didn’t appear to be related to the gunshot wound.
Kel sat propped up in his hospital bed taking in all of the information. He seemed so calm, as though this crisis was just a minor setback on the way to his next mission. He asked questions, using medical terms Marilyn had never heard of, as though he too were a doctor instead of a patient. Rehab and physical therapy were discussed at length while Marilyn sat quietly absorbing their words.
The doctor was quite insistent that even though Kel would be well enough within a week to return home, he wanted to keep him longer to allow him to undergo rehab in Bethesda where the navy was better equipped to speed his recovery.
Marilyn tried to digest this latest information and the ramifications it would have on her life as well as Kel’s. If the doctor had his way, they would be in Maryland for at least six weeks, maybe more.
When she thought they were finally done, Kel asked one more question. “Is there any chance you can get me access to a secure line? I need a status report.”
“Not likely.” The doctor shook his head. Then he glanced down at Kel’s chart and appeared to read a few lines. His eyes whipped up to look at Kel, and the two men appeared to communicate without saying a word. Finally, the doctor said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Doctor.”
Marilyn stood and moved closer to the bed. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing.”
“You mean nothing you’ll talk to me about.”
“Marilyn, please don’t do this.” Kel’s eyes were pleading. “You know I can’t talk to anyone about my job, not even you.”
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