Call to Honor

by Tawny Weber

  “Do a deeper property search,” he ordered. “Try variations on their names, on family names, businesses under the same. It’ll be a combination,” he concluded. “Use the same parameters to search financials.”

  Both men got to work.

  Diego watched as Prescott and Lansky went to work, fingers dueling as they hacked, decrypted and fought their way through various levels of electronics and security.

  Getting a headache watching the monitors flash from screen to screen to screen, Diego went back to pacing and thinking about where Ramsey would take Nathan. Could he get the kid out of the country without a passport? How hard would that be to forge?

  Diego drilled his fingertips into his forehead, wishing he could dig through the pain and find the damned answers.

  “Hold a second,” Diego said, lifting one hand as the idea hit him. “Add Nathan’s name into the mix. Nathan Alexander.”

  They’d never thought to look into the kid. They’d never thought someone would use a child. They should have. He should have. “Got him,” Prescott muttered five minutes later. “There’s the motherfucker.”

  Lansky leaned over to peer at the screen, then gave a sharp nod and went to work on his own keyboard as Diego hurried across the room.

  “What’ve you got?”

  “Lakeside property on Castaic Lake owned by Alexander Michaels. Alexander being Nathan’s middle name, Michael being Adams’ mother’s maiden name,” Prescott explained before jabbing his finger at his screen. “Look, Zillow photos show the same house, even.”

  “And here we go, I’m pulling financials,” Lansky crowed. “Holy shit. There’s over a million dollars in this account alone and there are at least two others in the Caymans that I haven’t accessed yet.”

  “I’ve got an email address,” Prescott said. A second later, he added, “And I’ve accessed the account.”

  As Prescott started reading through emails for clues, Lansky made a choking sound. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Look at these deposits. He’s gotta have been selling military information for years.”

  “They,” Prescott corrected, tapping a finger on his own screen to show a series of emails between Ramsey and Adams. “Their communications are coded, it’ll take me a while to break them all. But I’m going with they. As in, they were in it together.”

  “We’ve nailed them,” Lansky said, slapping his hand on the desk. “Nailed their asses to the wall.”

  “This’ll clear Poseidon,” Prescott said, letting out a heavy breath that Diego recognized as the same relief he felt himself. “Unless one of us is listed in here, it’ll clear our names.”

  “Nailing asses and clearing our names aren’t the priority right now. Retrieving the child is the priority,” Diego pointed out, his muscles tight as adrenaline surged. Priority or not, he was so totally ready to kick ass.

  “We need to let Savino know.” Lansky pushed away from the desk. “We need to hand this over to NI.”

  “Savino hasn’t answered my last two texts and digging through NI’s red tape will take too long,” Diego snapped. “The hostage in question is a little boy, and he’s in danger.”

  Diego grabbed the computer tablet with its real estate listing and handed it to Prescott. “Are you finding any other properties besides this one?”

  “Not yet.” Prescott scanned the property listing again, then went to work pulling up maps and aerials of Castaic Lake and the surrounding area. “I’d guess this is probably the one.”

  “You’d guess?” Could they rely on guessing at this point?

  “It’s remote enough to defend, close enough to the kid’s camp to afford minimal risk.” When Diego arched one brow, Elijah puffed out a breath. “Even if it’s Ramsey, whoever grabbed that kid, he’s a stranger to the boy. Unless he incapacitated the child, his options are minimal.”

  A gasp sounded, alerting the three men that they weren’t alone. They winced as one as a slight figure with blond hair spun away.

  His eyes locked on the back of Harper’s head as she ran up the stairs. Diego made a decision. “I’m going in,” he murmured.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Are you willing to put all our asses on the line? We all know that NI isn’t going to stop breathing down our necks. The team is in serious trouble. Even if this clears Poseidon, someone wants us disbanded.” Prescott looked as if he wanted to punch something, but he managed to keep his words even. “Savino is down there trying to salvage your rep, but if you go vigilante, he’s wasting his breath.”

  “A kid’s life is at stake.” If Diego had to pay with his career to put Nathan back in his mother’s arms, then so be it.

  “He knows our playbook.”

  Yeah. If it was Ramsey, he’d even written part of it. If it was Adams, well, the guy had worked plenty of the team’s missions besides that last one. He’d served as part of the support crew for years, had trained with them, had studied them.

  “Whoever it is, he knows SEAL Team 7’s playbook,” Diego corrected meticulously. “We’re Poseidon.”

  “Splitting hairs.”

  “Hairs are all we’ve got.”

  “You’re not waiting for Savino? Not waiting for the rest of the team?”

  Diego shifted through the crap they’d piled on Harper’s desk until he found the photo of Nathan she’d brought them. He held it high.

  “Do you think we have time?” He slapped the photo in the other man’s hand. “Are you willing to gamble on that?”

  “Are you willing to gamble with your career? With your freedom? The brig ain’t a picnic, Kitty Cat.”

  “A boy’s life is at stake,” Diego said again, heading for the door. He had one thing to do, and then he was leaving. “If it makes you feel better, wait here. Get a hold of Savino, wait for his arrival, fill him in, run backup.”

  Their silence followed him up the stairs, but he couldn’t worry about that. His plate was already too full. Diego paused in the doorway of Harper’s bedroom but didn’t step over the threshold. He knew he wasn’t welcome.

  Just as he knew it had been her downstairs, listening. That she’d heard enough to judge and find him guilty. Of what didn’t matter.

  He stood, shoulders back and chin high, trying to pretend he didn’t hate watching the woman he loved—yes, dammit, loved—rip the sheets from the bed they’d lain in as if she could tear away the reality of their being together you.

  “What do you need, Diego?”

  Noting the ice dripping off her words, he was sure she wanted to rip him out of her life. He couldn’t blame her, but just in case her reasons were a little different than he was figuring, he’d like to know why.

  Diego knew he could tiptoe around it; he could try to assuage it. Or if he were smart he’d ignore it, finish the mission, and get on with his damned life.

  “Why are you so pissed?” he asked, confronting it instead.

  “Pissed?” Holding the sheet against her chest as if protecting her heart, Harper widened her eyes in exaggerated surprise. “What could I have to be pissed about?”

  “A lot of things, I’m sure.” But when she’d let him bare her to his mouth, let him drive her to a gasping orgasm earlier that afternoon, he’d pretty much thought they’d settled most of them. “Why don’t you tell me exactly which one you’re working on right now?”

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  Was she worried about him? Going to miss him? A spark lit in Diego’s chest. Maybe hope, maybe heart. He wasn’t sure.

  “In about ten minutes.” He clenched his teeth, but couldn’t stop himself from offering what he shouldn’t—a promise. “I’ll bring him back. I’ll get your son.”

  He wasn’t going to tell her what desperate men did when confronted with deeds like kidnapping or treason. She didn’t need to know that the m
en they were going after were likely armed and unquestionably dangerous. They’d already committed treason, their lives were on the line and they were trained to kill.

  Diego swallowed hard against the tiny kernel of fear that’d lodged in his throat. “I’m going to get Nathan. Because he’s important. To you. To me.”

  “I was bait! I was just a means to an end for you. A way to get to Brandon. And you thought I was part of it!” Before he could respond, Harper threw her arms wide, then wrapped them tight around her again. “You used me.”

  Her eyes were defeated, filled with so many layers of betrayal that Diego knew that even if he devoted years to the task, he’d never heal them all.

  But he had to try.

  “At first, you were a part of the mission. Intel indicated that you were involved.” Diego shoved his hands in his pockets. God, he’d never felt so useless. “At first. Not now. At first, doing my job was my priority. Now you and Nathan are.”

  And that scared the hell out of him. Apparently it didn’t impress her, though, because she only shrugged.

  “How can I convince you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She sighed, a shaky, tear-filled sound. “I just want my son back. I want him safe, here in my arms where I can hold him. Then he and I can try to rebuild our world.”

  “And me? Do I have a place in that world?”

  It didn’t matter. He could see the answer on her face. In the way she smoothed the fresh sheet over the bed, tucking it tight under the mattress as if keeping even air from sliding between.

  And Diego knew. Harper had room for only one person in her world.

  Nathan.

  So he’d better get him back for her.

  No matter what the cost.

  * * *

  HARPER WANTED TO be glad Diego was gone. He’d lied to her; he’d used her. He’d come much too close to breaking her heart.

  But a part of her wanted to beg him to stay. Because despite everything he’d done, he was her only hope right now. The only person she believed could bring Nathan home.

  She wanted to chase him down the hall and out the door. She wanted to beg him to be safe. To take care.

  But she was afraid. Diego was going to save Nathan. But at what cost? And what if he didn’t?

  She clenched her teeth against the fear. But it came anyway. She fought it, ignored it, pushed past it.

  Until she couldn’t.

  Andi found her there, curled in a ball on her freshly made bed. “Hey, sweetie.”

  Harper didn’t move.

  “Mission Rescue is in effect,” Andi told her. Harper felt her weight settle on the bed just a moment before a soothing hand rubbed her shoulder. “They’ll bring Nathan home.”

  Harper managed a nod.

  “I listened from the kitchen to Jared and their friend Elijah. The one who’s hurt. He’s supposed to still be in the hospital, recovering from whatever Brandon did.” Andi’s hand kept rubbing a soothing pattern and her voice didn’t change, but Harper knew her friend was mad, could feel the anger emanating off her. “The three of them, Jared, the hurt guy and your lover, are acting against orders. Apparently they’re supposed to sit around and wait for a bunch of paper pushers before they do anything.”

  Harper simply blinked. Andi had never been big on waiting or in believing in orders.

  “In a prime junior high moment, I heard Jared tell Elijah that Diego had it bad for you. That he’d gone off the deep end, way past sex and into being crazy about you.” Andi patted Harper’s back. “He’s risking his life for you. He’s risking his career for you. He’d stick around if you wanted.”

  If she wanted. She was so miserably, irrevocably, sick in love with the man that she almost hated herself. But that didn’t mean she knew what she wanted.

  Harper sat up slowly, giving herself a moment to settle her swirling head and her spinning emotions. She took a deep breath and met Andi’s dark eyes. “Would you? Could you get past Jared’s career? These guys are SEALs, Andi. Could you live with the doubt, the uncertainty and the danger? Would it be worth the fear, the unknowing?”

  Even as she reeled off the drawbacks, listing all the rationales and reasons to think twice, she knew Andi’s answer. It was written all over that exotic face.

  Harper wiped at the tears sliding down her cheeks before swinging her feet off the side of the bed. She knew what she had to do next.

  She didn’t know what she’d do last, though.

  “Where are you going?”

  Harper paused in the act of lacing up her boots to look at her friend. “Do you believe Diego will come back with Nathan?” she asked in lieu of an answer.

  “Absolutely.”

  Grabbing on to that assurance with a heart too desperate to consider otherwise, Harper nodded.

  “Then I’m going to get Nathan his kitten.”

  * * *

  NATHAN CURLED UP in the corner of the bed, his pillow clutched in one hand and the other fisted tight. In case he had to hit someone.

  He missed camp and all the fun he’d been having. He’d liked hiking, and it had been cool to learn about boats and sleeping under the stars.

  He missed Jeremy. They’d had a blast listening to ghost stories around the campfire and whispering into the night, reliving their adventures and talking about home.

  Those talks with Jeremy had kept the homesickness at bay, had kept Nathan focused on the adventure. Jeremy had cried that first night because he missed his mom. Nathan had told him he understood.

  But he hadn’t cried himself. Percy Jackson hadn’t cried when the Minotaur crushed his mom into gold dust, Nathan told himself. He’d see his mom in just a few days, he’d figured. She’d visit on Parents’ Day and give him big enough hugs to get him through until it was time to go home.

  He’d been excited. And proud.

  Then the man had come.

  His mouth wet with salty tears, Nathan curled tighter, his knees drawn up to his chest and his eyes squished shut.

  The man had grabbed him right out of his cot, had pulled him into the woods and onto a boat. He hadn’t even let him get his stuff.

  Not his cell phone, with the GPS tracking his mom thought he didn’t know was on there.

  Not his jeans or his backpack, with the little notes of paper with his address and phone number written in case he lost his pants or something.

  He didn’t have anything. Not even his baseball.

  Now he was cold and he was hungry. Now he missed his mom so much, he couldn’t stop the crying.

  Nathan buried his face in the pillow, his hand pressed over his head. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know how long he’d been gone.

  And he didn’t know who that man was.

  As if his thoughts had sent out an alert, footsteps sounded down the hall. Each one sent a deep thrill of terror down Nathan’s spine, constricting like a rubber band in his belly until it was so tight it nearly snapped when the shadow fell over the room.

  Nathan scrunched his eyelids closed, trying to look like he was asleep.

  “Hey, Nate, how ya doing?” The steps came closer. “You awake yet? You should get up. You need to eat. Then we’ve got things to do.”

  Nathan’s breath locked in his chest.

  “Nate? C’mon. Let’s go.”

  Grinding his teeth together, Nathan debated for a few seconds. Then he slowly turned over. He glared, but the light came from the hallway, so he couldn’t make out the man’s face.

  “My name isn’t Nate. It’s Nathan.”

  “Okay, sure.” The guy said it in that grown-up, let’s-humor-the-little-kid sort of way. When he flipped on the dim light next to the bed, he had a friendly smile. But his eyes were scary. Not mean.

  Afraid.

  Nat
han didn’t figure anything that made a big guy like that afraid would prove to be good for him. But he knew better than to let the man see that he was worried. Heroes never showed stuff like that.

  “You hungry, kid?”

  Even though his stomach wanted to grumble, Nathan frowned and shook his head. Diego called him kid and it was kinda cool. He didn’t like the way this man said it.

  “You have to eat.” The guy stepped over to the window, lifted the shade and peered around as if checking to see if anyone was outside. “I made sandwiches. Way better than rations, let me tell ya.”

  Still checking the window, the guy tossed a plastic-wrapped sandwich onto the bed.

  “Eat.”

  Nathan slowly sat up, rubbing his hand over his face and hoping it didn’t show that he’d cried.

  “Who are you?”

  “Me? I’m Dane. Dane Adams. Your dad and I are pals. Best pals.”

  “I don’t have a dad.”

  The man’s face screwed up into a tight look that made Nathan’s stomach hurt again.

  “I know they told you that your dad is dead, but he’s not. There’s just stuff going down. He has to lay low for a while, but he’s alive.” The man’s smile flashed. “Believe me, kid. Your dad is alive.”

  “I don’t have a dad,” Nathan screamed before the man could say more. Fists tight, he glared. “The guy who made me walked out. He never visited. He never helped with money or anything. My mom raised me by herself. She’s all I need.”

  “You’re mad—I get it.” The man smiled like he was a friend, but something ugly flashed in his eyes. Something that made Nathan’s stomach hurt. “But sometimes a guy’s got to do the hard things because he’s trying to be a hero. Sometimes he’s got to walk away from the people who matter, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. That doesn’t mean he isn’t taking care of them.”

  “A hero does the right thing,” Nathan said stubbornly, shoving the uneaten sandwich away. “Maybe he has to leave to do it, but he doesn’t ignore the people he leaves behind.”