by J. M. Madden
Andrea, I know it’s late but I need to come by and have you identify a picture. I think I know who your hat guy is.
The next two texts sent chills through her and she began to shake. They had come in within the past two hours, since she’d been running. And the address said it was from Roger’s phone!
ANDREA, such a pretty name. Sorry I left a mess in your back alley. But then, that’s what you get for spying on me.
Doesn't matter, you have stopped nothing.
Wordlessly, she handed the phone to Jack. His mouth tightened and his silver eyes flashed with anger.
“Everything will be okay,” he told her firmly, but she wasn’t sure she believed him.
A hard hand gripped her chin and he forced her head up. She met his eyes. “I’m not blowing smoke up your ass, Andrea. Yes, we’re in the shit now, but I will protect you.”
Andrea nodded, tears filling her eyes again. She was so emotionally overwrought. When Jack dragged her into his arms again she didn’t protest like she knew she should. He just felt so good…
Chapter Four
Jack refused to think about the ramifications of holding Andrea in his arms. He couldn't. And he refused to acknowledge she smelled of sultry nights and things he hadn’t had for a very long time. Things that made his body respond in a very inappropriate way. Shifting off the couch, he carried her to the master bedroom. The room that she had shared with Dorian, his best friend. Doing some maneuvering, he managed to brace her on his knee and pulled the blankets down, then he settled her to the mattress. Pulling the covers up over top of her, he met her eyes. "We’re both fried," he told her. “You need to sleep.”
Andrea blinked, her lids already sagging. He started to turn away but she grabbed his left hand, the mangled one with only three fingers. “Thank you, Jack. I knew you were the one I needed to call."
Her eyes closed completely and she sighed out a breath. Jack stared at her for a long moment, tracing the lines of her face. She’d cut her hair again. The golden brown strands were almost boyishly short, but it just seemed to make her that much more delicate. Andrea had always been the strongest woman he’d ever known. Her tears tonight didn’t change that fact.
He had long ago realized that that innate strength was part of what drew him to her. Men liked to believe that they were stronger sex but he thought the exact opposite. After watching her put herself through school, raise two kids, deal with a husband that was deployed more often than not, Andrea had still managed to build a life for their family, a real home. And that family, again more often than not, included him.
It had been a couple of years after he met her that he realized he had feelings for Andrea. Not that he would never do anything about them. Dorian was his brother and he would never betray him. But the feelings for her were difficult to deal with. He'd never been in love before so struggling with the need she roused in him was challenging, a constant tug of war, and that internal fight had actually led to his first panic attack. It had been at a backyard gathering, just one of those just hang out and unwind days, but his tension began to increase rather than decrease. Maybe it was seeing the way she doted on Dorian, after he’d been gone for the past two months. At the time he’d thought he was having a heart attack. It hadn’t eased until Andrea had knelt down beside him, looked into his eyes and started talking to him about normal, everyday family things like the weird sound the car was making and a teacher the kids were having a problem with at school. She’d made Jack feel like he mattered, like he was part of the family too. For years, decades, he'd yearned to have her in his arms for him, not for any other reason. Not because she was just glad to see Dorian’s friend, and not because she needed a handy man, or a shoulder to cry on, but because she saw and wanted him.
It was ridiculous but in a way he’d devoted his life to her. His personal life, anyway. She’d been the only woman he’d ever met that was worthy of his attention, he felt.
Damn, that sounded conceited. Like he was such a catch.
His short marriage to Elise had been, he’d realized later, completely misguided. She’d been a lovely woman but her main draw to him had been the fact that she looked like Andrea, petite and golden-haired. Once he’d realized what he’d done, he’d had the marriage annulled and cut her loose.
He strode back out into the living room to retrieve his phone and called Si.
“Andrea is safe for the moment, but the suspect that took out Roger Mann also has his phone. You might let the CIA know they’re semi-compromised and shut that fucker down.” Si grumbled under his breath and Jack wondered if he’d woken him. Didn’t matter. “What’s going on at your end?”
“Nothing much, right this second. We’re in Mann’s computer and going through the files. The guy that Andrea overheard is a student at the local community college, listed as Mustafa Mohamed Fadhil. We know that’s not his real name, though. That name belongs to one of the terrorists involved in the embassy bombings years ago. We know he was killed, though, so we’re trying to track down if this is a family member or what. He used that name for a reason.”
Yes, he definitely did. Terrorists were known for honoring the fallen comrades and family members that way. Jack was willing to bet that this guy was a relative. Trying to trace a family tree in Iraq or Afghanistan wasn’t going to be an easy task, though.
“All right then, for now we’ll call him Mustafa. Anything else?”
“We have coverage on the shop, you can assure her of that. And her kids are also being monitored.”
“Okay. I’ll let her know when she gets up. Unless something changes, we’re going to hang out here for a while.”
“Any chance you’re gonna tell me where here is?"
“No," Jack told him flatly. “I’ll keep my phone on me if you hear anything."
“Sounds good.”
Jack hung up. Reaching into his go-bag he found a charger cord for his phone, plugging it in near the kitchen. It was almost three in the morning. The sky was dark but dawn would be coming. He needed to catch a little bit of sleep. As he moved through the beach house, he secured every door and window then arranged his weapons on the coffee table. Stretching out on the long sectional couch, he closed his eyes, listening to the waves crashing against the beach.
The beach house had always been calming to him. When they'd invested in the property, all three of them together, it had felt like the right thing to do. A trust was set up that paid the taxes and utilities with the rental money that came in. He blocked off time down here a few times a year and he actually had his own bedroom, the second master suite on the opposite side of house. For the moment, it would be safer for him to stay more in the center of the house, closer to Andrea in case she needed anything. Besides, it was closer to her, period.
Jack slipped off into sleep, and the dreams started almost immediately. Actually, some were dreams and some nightmares, and some were just messed up enough that he couldn’t tell the difference. Dorian was in them of course, pounding him on the back or slapping his shoulder like he always used to do. Psyching him up for a hard entry. Spotting him on the weight bench and throwing him a bottle of water. Dorian had been his best friend in the world and Jack had had to watch the light go out of his eyes.
Then Dorian was standing there looking at him, kitted out in his gear like they were ready to fight insurgents, but the setting was wrong. They were at his funeral and Dorian had this look on his face… like he’d been betrayed. Jack had his arm around Andrea, but when he saw Dorian's face he stepped away from her. There was no way it was real, but the emotions that it evoked were.
Any time Jack thought about getting close to Andrea the betrayal on dream-Dorian's face intensified. And then, a few months after the burial, they’d both been looking for comfort and she’d kissed him. His dreams that night had been the most horrific. Standing at the side of the grave with his arm around Andrea Dorian had leveled his weapon at Jack's face and squeezed the trigger. That was when he’d jerked awake, panting and
sweaty.
Jack knew that these dreams were caused by his own insecurities, but knowing that still didn't change his response. He knew he wasn't responsible for Dorian’s death. It had been a totally random situation that had taken them both down, but Jack would always wish that it had been him that had died instead. If it would save Andrea the heartache that he'd seen and helped her through, he would change places with Dorian in a heartbeat.
Even if it meant never seeing Andrea again.
His dreams morphed again. No, this was a memory. Andrea was in the backyard getting ready for an impromptu barbecue. Jack had always admired that she could pull together a meal out of nothing. On this particular night she was dressed to go out. Dorian had promised her a date night but that had somehow turned into a party in his backyard. Jack could remember shaking his head at Dorian because it was obvious Andrea was disappointed and hurt. She’d looked gorgeous that night, her dress dark and flowing, her skin luminescent as if brushed by moonlight, but Dorian had wanted to stay home, drink beer, and laugh with his teammates. The team needed to decompress after months abroad, Jack got that, but their marriage needed care as well. He never felt like Dorian cared enough for her feelings. A few times he'd even mentioned it, but Dorian had blown him off.
“If you’re so worried about her, you take her out,” he’d groused at one point.
Jack had forced his face not to react but something in his partner’s expression made him think that Dorian knew how Jack felt about Andrea.
He had learned to be very careful with his words and the way he looked at her.
Then, in 2009, the attack in Kuwait happened. He'd been shipped home without this team. He was the only one injured that time. Dorian had called ahead and let Andrea know that Jack was on his way. She’d been there for him in the hospital, bringing him food and keeping him occupied, even though he knew he’d been an asshole to her. He’d been in a tremendous amount of pain at the time. Then, once the doctors had released him, she'd driven him home to the house. Jack had been a little out of it at the time and if he’d realized what she planned, he would've taken a taxi to his own apartment.
She’d refused to let him go, though, and in all honesty he'd had no desire to leave. The pain that he’d been dealing with at the time was worse than anything else he’d ever felt. The surgeons had been phenomenal but there was no way to lose part of your hand and not feel the pain. So, for a few days he had allowed Andrea to pamper him.
As he'd healed, he'd fought several infections. During one of those feverish periods, she had come to him in the night. Thinking it was one of his dreams he had pulled her close, fitting her mouth to his. For precious moments she had softened into his kiss. Jack had lost all track of pain as he tasted her for the first time. Looking back now he thought that perhaps some part of his consciousness knew that it was actually Andrea and not a dream, but he hadn’t been able to let her go. It wasn't until she pushed away that he realized what they were doing.
She'd urged him to take his pills and she’d left immediately after, fading into the night. That next morning, once his fever had broken, he'd gone out to the kitchen. For the first time there was an awkwardness between them. Jack had pretended that he had no idea what had gone on and he thought Andrea believed him. But every once in a while he would catch just a hint of awareness between the two of them. By that time the team was back in the States and he began training with them again. The two finger amputations were not enough to keep him out of active duty service. The scars on his face had healed and they weren’t pretty but his eye had been spared and his vision was perfect.
It was just a few years later when Dorian was killed on an op and Jack was injured again. The job had been a little out of the ordinary, working with the CIA, but they’d done that before. It should have been one of those everyday, routine outings, but it had turned deadly quicker than they could adapt. They’d entered a village that was supposed to have been cleared several times in the previous couple of days. That day it had been lousy with Taliban. Only the SEALs exemplary training had kept it from being a bloodbath. Two SEALs died that day and many were injured, and it just plain should not have happened.
Jack hated thinking about that time because so many things had been in turmoil then. Dealing with his injuries had taken a huge amount of physical and mental energy and for a while, he hadn’t even planned on recovering. He just wanted to give up. His right leg and knee was a mangled mess, shot several times, and he had broken ribs from falling off a wall to escape the attack, but none of that even touched the pain of losing his best friend. Without having Dorian at his side, his recovery seemed…inconsequential. Then he thought of Andrea and everything she had to do now. Alone. And he’d rallied. He’d been lost, obviously, but the kids had been just as devastated. They were teens by then, but they’d suddenly seemed so much younger to him those first few weeks. Maybe it was because of the way they watched the door, anticipation in their eyes, as if the next person that was going to enter would be their dad, then the disappointment when it wasn’t. They’d still been hoping. And it broke his heart.
Andrea, on the other hand, had been quietly desolate. It had been hard when he’d first seen her in the hospital and he’d held her as she sobbed. Then she’d gathered the pieces of her heart together and was a rock for her kids. Navy SEALs are badass, but Navy SEAL widows are terrifying in their strength. She’d gone through her first rough stage of grief, then she’d pulled it together and been there for the other widow, Leslie Coronado, who was much younger. Her husband Alfonse had been killed with Dorian. The two men were buried at the same time, just a few spaces away from one another, and throughout the services the two women held each other up.
Jack had lost a lot of teammates over the years, some from injury and some killed in action, but nothing was the same as losing Dorian. He’d been his original swim buddy, getting Jack through SEAL training and beyond. Yes, they'd operated without each other a few times, but for the most part they'd served their entire SEAL careers together— years of training together round the clock. They’d eaten together, slept together, shit together, and bled together. They couldn’t have been closer if they’d been actual brothers.
So, it had been hard to adapt. A few months later when he’d been debating whether or not to return to the team, a promotion was presented to him and he’d taken it. Then another, until he was lieutenant commander of a SEAL platoon. Jack found that being in charge of that many lives was just as hard as being on the ground right next to them. After being lieutenant commander for a few years he’d put in his paperwork to retire. He didn't regret anything he’d done in the Navy. Hell, he’d given them his entire life.
Chapter Five
Andrea woke about four-thirty feeling like she was in trouble. Stepping out of bed she padded to the bedroom door then down the hallway, looking for Jack. He slept on the couch, his harsh face turned away from her. Reversing her steps, she went back into the bedroom for a shower. She puttered around as long as she could to give him time to sleep but she was starving. She tiptoed out to the kitchen, but she needn't have worried. Jack was up and getting a pot of coffee together. She pulled open the freezer to rummage for food.
“Oh, no way,” she breathed. Inside the freezer was a box of premade breakfast sandwiches. “We just hit the lottery, baby,” she laughed, showing her find to Jack. “The last renters must have left them.”
His mouth quirked. “Finders, eaters.”
Andrea grinned and ripped open the box, forgetting for a moment why they were here. She microwaved the sandwiches, putting three on a paper plate for them to share. Jack poured them each a cup of steaming coffee and set them on the breakfast table.
“You’ll have to drink it black," he told her. “And it’s out of a can.”
Andrea grimaced but accepted it anyway. "It's better than nothing."
Jack scarfed down two sandwiches before she even made it through half of hers. "Any word this morning?"
Jack rocked back
against the chair, holding a coffee cup on his lean belly. He told her what Si had discovered about the college student.
“Wait, who the hell is Si?”
“Silas Branson, also known as Crash. He’s an assistant director in the Bone Frog Division at the Department of Homeland Security.”
Andrea knew her jaw had gone slack. “Homeland Security? Mann worked for the CIA.”
Jack blinked at her. “I’ve worked for the Bone Frog division in DHS for a few years. I was a little bored after I retired from the Navy. They’re investigating Mann’s death because of the terrorist connections.”
Andrea shook her head. “How did I not know this?"
Jack gave her that Gallic shrug he had. “We haven't talked for a while," he said simply.
No, they hadn't, had they? That made her sad because they’d been on good terms most of their adult lives. She could barely remember a time when Jack hadn’t been in her life, part of their family. The fact that he’d left had been her fault, and maybe it was best to confront that fact now. “I’m not sure if I ever apologized for what happened…”
Jack’s face closed down, his eyes going hard. “Don’t you dare apologize. Neither one of us were in our right minds that night.”
No, they hadn’t been.
And if she was honest, she totally wasn’t sorry about what had happened that night. He just seemed to be fighting so much guilt…she didn’t want to add to his load.
She shook her head, trying to shake the memory of his hard lips softening under hers. “So, what did the guy say? Si?”
“That there’s a connection to one of the embassy bombers from years ago. This kid used the name of one of the bombers and we’re not sure why. I don’t know how successful they’ll be tracking down his family connections, but Si is going to send a team to investigate.”
She leaned back against the chair, mirroring his position. A sound thudded through the room and she jerked, not knowing what was going on. Before she could even open her mouth to say anything Jack had snatched her out of the chair and tackled her to the floor. He pressed her flat to the wood, his body hard around her. “Stay here,” he hissed, before easing away. She watched him crawl away from her. He reached up and switched off the lights in the kitchen before heading into the living room, and she heard the rack of the slide of his gun. “Stay there, Andrea,” he called.