Returning to Eden (Acts of Valor, Book 1): Christian Military Romantic Suspense

by Rebecca Hartt

  Jonah swiped a shaky hand over his face. “How did you find me?”

  “I called Saul, who told me where you were. He’d just heard from Lucas not to trust the CO.”

  “How did Lucas know?” Jonah exclaimed. Everyone seemed aware of the CO’s treachery but him.

  “You’ll have to ask your wife. Something about your psychiatrist calling.”

  “My psychiatrist?” Jonah held his breath as they approached the base’s exit, but the guards paid no heed to the cars leaving the post.

  “What do we do now?” he asked Rivera. “Who’s going to believe us that Dwyer’s been stealing weapons in advance of his own squadron?”

  Rivera shook his head, clearly at a loss. “Not NCIS,” he said grimly.

  Just then, Jonah’s cell phone buzzed. Dreading a call from Dwyer, with what could only be twisted threats and sick reasoning, Jonah pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “It’s the NCIS intern, Charlotte Patterson. Hello?” he answered.

  “Lieutenant Mills?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Patterson here. I have excellent news.”

  Jonah sat up straighter. “Good. I’m in need of that right now. My CO just tried to kill me.”

  Silence betrayed her momentary shock, but then she said, “I’m not surprised. I should have called you immediately, but I was on the phone with the DIA until the early hours of the morning. I recovered Lloyd’s iPad from a morgue in the Northern Neck yesterday. The coroner found it in his jacket when his body was brought in.”

  Jonah perked up at the possibility of more evidence. “That’s great. I hope there’s something conclusive on it. LeMere’s journal was stolen from Master Chief’s office by Dwyer’s secretary.”

  “Ugh. You’re kidding me. Well, not to worry,” Patterson assured him. “I’ve got everything we need on this iPad to put Commander Dwyer in jail for good. Lloyd’s got video and voice recordings of conversations between Dwyer and various other men, including Lowery. All of them are incriminating.”

  An enormous weight lifted off Jonah’s shoulders. He closed his eyes in silent gratitude.

  “For obvious reasons,” Patterson continued, “I don’t trust NCIS to pursue an investigation. DIA is going to handle this for us. I’m on my way to deliver the iPad to my contact now. Based on what I’ve shared with him, he’s made arrangements to arrest your commander by nightfall.”

  Jonah opened his eyes again. “That’s incredible! I can’t thank you and Lloyd Elwood enough. You’re going to make an incredible special agent, Miss Patterson.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Do me a favor, though. Keep close to your friends until you hear from me that Dwyer’s behind bars.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jonah assured her.

  “I’ll be in touch,” she promised, ending the call.

  Keeping his phone in his hand, Jonah grinned his relief and met Rivera’s hopeful glance.

  “Patterson says she has Special Agent Elwood’s iPad and there’s enough evidence on it to incriminate Dwyer. She’s already spoken with the DIA, and they’re planning to pick him up by nightfall.”

  Rivera’s tense expression abruptly relaxed. “Thank God.”

  “Yes.” It couldn’t be more obvious to Jonah that God had looked out for him that morning. “You were right, Master Chief,” he marveled as they drove through the gate without being waylaid.

  “About what?”

  “You told me God would take care of me. I could so easily have been killed just now and everyone would’ve believed Dwyer’s version of the story. He told me he was going to say I flipped out and attacked him because of my PTSD. His buddy who works at the range would have said he’d witnessed the whole thing, and that would have been that. He killed Lowery, too, Master Chief. He practically admitted to it.”

  Rivera nodded as if he’d guessed it already, then looked back at the road where something in his rearview mirror caught his eye. “Saul is coming up behind us.”

  Jonah peered over his shoulder, relieved to see Saul’s sleek, midnight blue Camaro. “He saved my life today. You both did.”

  “What did Dwyer say to you? What’s his excuse for stealing weapons from right under his own squadron’s nose?”

  Jonah gave a humorless laugh, then summarized Dwyer’s motivations in a single sentence. “He thinks power means peace.”

  Rivera turned right at the intersection, headed in the direction of Jonah’s home.

  “You’d better call Eden,” he suggested. “I’m sure she’s frantic by now.”

  As he dialed Eden’s phone number, Jonah drew a cleansing breath and let it out again.

  “Jonah, thank God! Tell me you’re okay,” she said by way of a greeting.

  Her alarm suggested she’d somehow guessed the danger he’d been in.

  “I’m okay,” he reassured her.

  She heaved a huge sigh of relief. “I got the strangest call from Dr. Branson. Apparently, he and your commander went to school together, and Dwyer got him his job so he could keep tabs on what memories you were recalling. After hearing that, my imagination went nuts.”

  “Actually,” Jonah told her, “you were right to be worried. The CO actually told my psychologist to diagnose me with PTSD. That way no one believes what I have to say. I’ll tell you everything when I get home.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, honey? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “I’m okay.” Her concern shot a warm ray of love through him.

  “Do you still want to have everyone over?”

  Jonah searched himself. Patterson had told him to keep his friends close. What better way to do that than to have them over for a party?

  “Absolutely,” he replied.

  Whatever ultimately happened, he was sure of one thing: God would continue looking out for him. Jonah’s eyes stung with the force of his gratitude.

  I love you, Father. Thank you for protecting us.

  Epilogue

  The summer sun beat down on the small group standing on Eden and Jonah’s deck—Theo, Bambino, Lucas, Saul, Master Chief, Miriam, and Jonah. Nina would arrive at any moment, and then everyone Jonah and Eden cared about, except her parents, would be here in this one place. Even Sabby was lounging in a small patch of shade, waiting for potential treats.

  To no one’s surprise, Monica, who’d been invited as Lucas’s fiancée, had messaged him that she was visiting her sister up in Williamsburg and couldn’t make it.

  Eden broke a sweat as she’d hurried about, laying out the side dishes and the utensils while Jonah saw that everyone had drinks.

  Once they’d all settled in, Jonah began to relay, as he manned the grill, what had happened to him that morning. On hearing how closely her husband had come to being shot by his own squadron commander, Eden glanced at Miriam and found her blowing up balloons with a scowl on her face.

  Master Chief followed up Jonah’s story with his own version. The suddenness of Lowery’s death had sparked suspicions, causing him to drive to HQ that morning to sit in on Jonah’s meeting with the CO. Instead of running into them, he’d brushed into Monica, who was just leaving. Likely acting on Dwyer’s orders, she had entered Rivera’s office via the CO’s and had taken LeMere’s journal, their best piece of evidence regarding his treachery, with her.

  In the reflective silence following Master Chief’s story, Eden looked at Lucas, as did everyone else. With a crestfallen expression, he rose from his chair and crossed to the far side of the deck to stare out at the ocean.

  Just then, Eden heard Nina pull up out front and went to help her carry up the kit for making homemade ice cream. On their ascent to the deck, she sketched Nina a quick explanation of what was going on.

  The aroma of charcoal and barbecuing meats filled the air, but it couldn’t penetrate the cloud of disillusionment hanging over Alpha Troop. As he turned the meat, Jonah added a commentary onto his story.

  “What’s crazy is that Dwyer believes he’s acting in our country’s bes
t interest. He asked me to join him in saving the world. Those were the words he used.”

  Saul spoke up from the chair he was brooding in. “Where’s he putting all the weapons he’s been stealing?” Sunlight glinted off the hoop in his left ear as he lifted his head.

  “And how many people are working for him?” Lucas turned back to face the group. “Are they all former SEALs?”

  “I don’t know. Some may be active-duty like Lowery,” Jonah said.

  Master Chief tore his gaze off Nina to add, “He may think he’s saving the world when he actually wants to control it. In Dwyer’s mind, as long as he’s in charge, terrorism doesn’t stand a chance. What he doesn’t realize is that he has now become the terrorist.”

  The youngest SEAL, Bambino, offered up an insight. “That’s why he’s been wantin’ to retire.”

  “Exactly.” Jonah gestured at him with the spatula. “Once he’s free of SOCOM, he can live like a pirate, amassing his weapons in some off-shore location—provided he can still get intel now that Lowery’s gone.”

  “Thank God the DIA is stepping in,” Theo exclaimed. As dark as mahogany, with biceps at least twenty inches in diameter, Eden could see how he’d earned the code name Mr. T.

  “Yes, thank God,” Jonah agreed. “Hey, since the meat is just about ready, how about we say a prayer? Master Chief, would you do the honors?”

  “I’d love to. Let’s form a circle,” Rivera proposed, backing up and holding out his hands.

  Looking confused, Nina set down the bag of salt for the homemade ice cream mixer.

  Master Chief gestured for her to join him. With a glance at Eden, she nonetheless crossed to Rivera’s side and slipped her hand into his.

  Eden seized Jonah’s hand and pulled him away from the grill. With her newfound happiness threatened that very morning, Eden wanted nothing more than to feel the hand of God upon them.

  Jonah took Nina’s free hand. Lucas stepped forward, adding to the circle. Theo linked hands with Lucas and Bambino. But Saul, looking ill-at-ease, stayed put in his chair.

  “Come on, Saul,” Eden urged.

  “You don’t want me in that circle,” he said with a shake of his head. “I made a pact with the devil years ago.”

  Master Chief waited patiently without speaking. Miriam, tying off a balloon, grabbed up Saul’s hand on her way by him and forced him out of his chair.

  “My dad needs you,” she informed him firmly.

  With a self-conscious grimace but unwilling to let Miriam down, Saul closed the circle and hung his head. Eden hid a smile and closed her eyes, letting Master Chief’s voice with its lilting accent wash over her.

  “Heavenly Father, we all thank you for keeping watch over our brother, Jaguar. Your wisdom and your compassion are beyond compare. You alone know what will happen now. Protect us in your loving kindness, Lord. We see forces of darkness at work everywhere we turn, and we fear for ourselves and for our families. Therefore, we turn to you, our defender and our very great help in times of trouble. Fill us with your peace. Strengthen us to be vigilant of each other. Cast your protection over Charlotte Patterson and hasten the DIA to bring about justice. And most especially, Lord, safeguard and bless Jaguar and his family. We pray all this in the name of our dearest advocate, teacher and savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  “Amen,” repeated everyone, even Nina and Saul.

  Reassured to the point of relaxing, Eden turned to her daughter and gave her a hearty hug. To her delight, Jonah put his arms around them both.

  “I love you guys,” he said in a gruff voice.

  Over his shoulder, Eden mouthed her thanks to Master Chief, who winked back at her.

  From a distance of a hundred yards, waves crashed over and over onto the shore, calling to mind something Eden had once read—the words of the medieval mystic Julian of Norwich.

  All will be well and all will be well. All manner of things will be well.

  Optimism lifted her spirits. She couldn’t help but consider how much her life had changed since getting the call that Jonah was still alive. She had thought herself happier without him. How wrong she’d been. With God anchoring her marriage, her family, and her friendships, this was what true happiness felt like.

  She and Jonah had a weapon unlike any weapon Commander Dwyer had ever tried to amass: the Love of God.

  All manner of things will be well, she assured herself, enjoying the embrace of her dear ones.

  The End

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  Page Ahead for An Excerpt From

  EVERY SECRET THING

  Every Secret Thing

  Acts of Valor, Book 2

  The monotonous droning of a fly roused Charlotte Patterson from an unnaturally deep sleep. Fighting the unwanted drug that fouled her system, she forced herself to sit up. Her sluggish respiration quickened as she failed to recognize the antique bed in which she lay, on sheets damp with sweat.

  Her gaze rose to high papered walls. More details came into focus as she blinked—a window with plantation shutters currently propped open at the bottom, an adjacent bathroom with old-timey fixtures, and a tray on a table by the door with food that had been delivered, she assumed, while she’d been sleeping.

  Where am I?

  The only sound besides the buzzing fly and the beating of her heart was that of a downpour outside the window. She recalled waking up once previously, long enough to sense the pitching motion of a boat. But that feeling was gone. She was back on dry land.

  Compelled by her full bladder, Charlotte swung her feet to the floor. The drug that had caused her to sleep so deeply also made the walls shift closer, the floor jump up. As it hit her bare soles, she wondered when and where she’d lost her shoes.

  Nausea roiled up suddenly as the memories rushed back.

  She’d been driving up Rt. 301 in Virginia en route to the headquarters of the Defense Intelligence Agency outside of Washington DC. Although midday on Labor Day, she remembered being one of just a few people on the road. The black SUV surging toward her in her rearview mirror had come out of nowhere.

  As Charlotte swore and increased her speed, the female in the passenger seat stuck her head out of her window. A pistol flashed in the sunlight—Charlotte’s only warning before her Mustang’s rear tire blew with a pop.

  The steering wheel jerked in Charlotte’s grasp. In that same instant, she realized her attempt to get time-critical information to the DIA was being thwarted.

  “No!” she remembered raging. Her supervisor had been killed less than a week earlier while carrying the same information. She’d been so certain no one had seen or followed her.

  In her fury, Charlotte jammed on the brakes by way of reprisal. The SUV plowed into the back end of her car with a terrific crash.

  Her Mustang was still moving when she opened her door and leaped out of it, sparing a thought for the iPad she’d hidden under her seat. It was supposed to be in the DIA’s possession within the hour, but saving her own life took precedence for the moment.

  She ran toward trees as fast as her long legs permitted. A fearful backward glance revealed a man in hot pursuit. Even as fit as she was, he overcame her within seconds, threw his arms around her, and tackled her into tall grass, all without hurting her.

  The same could not be said for him. As she flailed and scratched and bit him, he overcame her struggles with difficulty, then
pulled a syringe from his back pocket. Using his teeth, he freed the needle and jabbed it into her thigh, injecting her with something that blurred her vision instantly.

  Charlotte’s head lolled. Looking back at the two cars, she watched the woman duck inside of the Mustang. It wouldn’t take her long to find the iPad containing critical evidence, hidden under the driver’s seat.

  The last thing Charlotte could recall was being lifted like a ragdoll off the ground and carried to the man’s SUV. She’d figured the man was going to kill her, just as he’d probably killed her supervisor, for knowing too much about Navy SEAL Commander Derek Dwyer.

  Only she wasn’t dead—not yet, anyway.

  Instead of killing her, he’d gotten rid of her, apparently by putting her on a boat and sending her . . . where?

  Charlotte forced herself to rise on legs that jittered. She had to hold her head with both hands to keep the room from shifting. Crossing in a wobbly line to the bathroom, she stared at her ghastly reflection as she splashed water on her face.

  Revived by the water, she headed straight for the bedroom door and found it locked from the other side. As she suspected, she was a prisoner, albeit a well-fed one, given the sumptuous fare left out for her. Remembering the drugs that had kept her unconscious, she cautiously helped herself to the glass of fruit juice, slaking her thirst as she gulped it down. Picking up a strip of chicken cooked in pineapple, she chewed it carefully.

  How long was I sleeping? She didn’t know. Days at least.

  Abandoning the food, Charlotte approached the screen-covered window. The partially-open shutter admitted a humid breeze. She realized she was standing on the second story of what appeared to be a plantation home. Rain spattered the lush lawn below her. Vegetation quilted the landscape in a tapestry of lilies, fronds and blooming bougainvillea.

  Ducking to see under the raised shutter, Charlotte discerned, farther afield, a walkway leading from the home’s main entrance to a massive moon gate. Two mulatto men smoked cigarettes in an adjacent gate house.