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Point Blank Seal
Carol Ericson
You can keep your protocol – he'll go rogue to keep his family safe! Tortured in captivity, navy SEAL Miguel Estrada owes his survival to his fiancée, the memory of her keeping him strong through his darkest moments. But when his escape is compromised by military protocol and he suspects the woman he loves is being targeted, he turns rogue.Jennifer Lynch has spent a year mourning Miguel and raising the baby he never met. But her reality is shaken once she finds him at her door and discovers they're all at risk.Putting his life on the line for Jennifer and their child, Miguel is forced to face some hard truths—and confront the secrets that might separate them permanently.


You can keep your protocol—he’ll go rogue to keep his family safe
Tortured in captivity, navy SEAL Miguel Estrada owes his survival to his fiancée, the memory of her keeping him strong through his darkest moments. But when his escape is compromised by military protocol and he suspects the woman he loves is being targeted, he turns rogue.
Jennifer Lynch has spent a year mourning Miguel and raising the baby he never met. But her reality is shaken once she finds him at her door and discovers they’re all at risk.
Putting his life on the line for Jennifer and their child, Miguel is forced to face some hard truths—and confront the secrets that might separate them permanently.
Red, White and Built
Miguel eyed the bat still clutched in Jennifer’s hand.
He spread his arms, palms up, and stated the obvious. “I’m not dead.”
She dropped the bat. It bounced once before toppling over. Then she breathed his name. “Miguel.”
In those two syllables, she expressed all the hope, longing and love that had kept him alive for a year and a half in captivity.
He closed the space between them and swept her into his arms, holding her body so close he couldn’t tell where his ended and hers began. He pressed his lips against her soft hair, the blond strands almost glowing in the dark as if they had collected all of the moonlight.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back, her cheeks wet. “My every prayer has been answered, but how. . .Why did they tell me you were dead?”
The navy and the CIA had their reasons, but he didn’t need to tell her those reasons—right now.
Point Blank SEAL
Carol Ericson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com (http://www.carolericson.com/), “where romance flirts with danger.”
For my two Wildcats
Contents
Cover (#u360d24e1-d7c0-5235-91e2-b46ab2e4b2ed)
Back Cover Text (#u9e8d2144-fbde-5b98-877c-fe7e858c85c1)
Introduction (#u780a5ad8-8d59-544a-bfc3-adcedfef6c5b)
Title Page (#u5e1b4d27-2f0e-59c8-b97c-15d097f09dde)
About the Author (#u8a7b832f-7f97-52aa-9284-f71834000d44)
Dedication (#u4f82acb3-e0c4-57a2-8e85-33223f31e93f)
Prologue (#u45682b8a-7f6d-5642-8d88-41f24b453ab6)
Chapter One (#ufffe3f2c-7b3a-5677-9e7c-5a787c02322f)
Chapter Two (#uacb76f56-dfec-5997-b859-e6b6777c4d41)
Chapter Three (#uc77dee7b-6459-5d7b-b729-81c6f5f32a37)
Chapter Four (#u0f69de68-ee7e-5f84-8ef9-bfde4b4639c6)
Chapter Five (#udb9e179e-6a6c-56a4-8dce-3cb1d5c59bcb)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u46a7807e-34b5-5688-a14a-acd85a67ef0e)
A light glimmered among the rocks to his right, and Miguel Estrada shifted his MK 15 in response, his heart thudding against his chest. He whispered into the mic clipped to his flak jacket. “Twenty degrees to your right, up another thirty yards.”
Miguel couldn’t tell if the SEALs on the ground were following his directions or not. They’d moved out of his view behind some rocks, and they couldn’t answer him and risk giving away their position. He just had to trust they’d heard him and reacted accordingly, especially since this wasn’t his regular team and they were missing that natural rapport.
His world became the area in his scope, and his eyeball tracked back and forth to scan that world, looking for any movement or more light.
These caves tucked into the rugged interior of Afghanistan were a maze, deep and complex. The intelligence they’d received on the whereabouts of Vlad had led a team of SEALs, including him on sniper duty, to this godforsaken part of the world.
The intel suggested Vlad would be lightly guarded and relaxed, not suspecting the hell about to be unleashed upon him. Miguel just hoped Vlad didn’t have any children with him. That made everything more complicated—like the two boys the team had run into on their trek up here.
Thank God, it hadn’t been Miguel’s call to make on how to deal with the boys. Elias had decided to release them, and it looked like that had been a good call since they hadn’t seen them—or anyone else—since those boys had scampered across the rocks.
A light flickered again in the same area, and Miguel held his breath, waiting for an opportunity. If he could take out Vlad or anyone with Vlad from this vantage point, he’d do it and save the SEALs clambering over those boulders a few bullets.
The night scope on his sniper rifle cast a green glow on the rugged terrain, with every rock and every edge standing out in stark relief. If only he could see a person, other than the SEALs, he could help verify this location for them.
The brush behind him rustled and he tensed his muscles. He could probably handle one of those little gerbils or moles, but if that was a bat flapping his wings behind him he just might lose it.
Miguel tapped his fingernail against the trigger. Snipers generally had all the patience in the world, but those SEALs down there should’ve emerged from that cluster of boulders by now. Maybe they’d discovered something out of his sight. Miguel’s own team would’ve found a way to signal that news.
He licked the grit from his lips and shifted his rifle again, zeroing in on the area where the SEALs had disappeared earlier. If they’d gotten his message, they should’ve popped up twenty degrees to the right of the jagged outcropping that looked like a mouthful of bad teeth.
He mumbled under his breath, “C’mon, guys.”
A shift and a scrape behind his location had the hair on the back of his neck quivering. Before he had time to analyze this latest noise behind him, movement on the rocks below had him tightening his finger on the trigger. A light flashed behind the rocks and a pop echoed in the distance.
What the hell just happened? Miguel hissed into his mic, “What was that? Send me a signal.”
The only signal he received was another flash and bang. Had the SEALs come upon Vlad’s hideout? Were they taking him out now?
The crack of a twig behind him didn’t sound like a nighttime rodent or even a bat, but his mission right now was to protect those men down there. Breathing heavily, Miguel swept the rocky hillside, looking for anything that hadn’t been there before.
He hadn’t liked the look of those particular rocks from the get-go, but the team had to traverse them to get to Vlad’s cave—if that was Vlad’s cave.
A head rose above the highest boulder and Miguel’s gut lurched. A man, a keffiyeh wrapped about his head, waved his arms in the air, a weapon clutched in one hand.
Miguel swallowed hard as he recognized the weapon. Then he swore when he realized the man was gesturing—toward him...or someone behind him.
In a split second, he took the shot and dropped the man while he was still waving. Then he rolled to his side, hauling his rifle with him, but it was too late. As he tried to reposition his weapon to the target behind him, he heard the click of a gun.
A heavy boot crushed his arm holding the rifle and Miguel gritted his teeth. Someone else kicked him in the head, and the tinny taste of blood flooded his mouth.
A man growled in English, “Drop your weapon and get on your knees. Your team members are all dead.”
Instead of releasing his rifle, Miguel swung it behind him, making contact with someone’s leg. The target grunted and one of his cohorts kicked Miguel in the midsection.
The cold metal of a gun pressed against Miguel’s temple.
“I’m going to tell you one more time. Release your weapon and get on your knees.”
They seemed to have given up on the idea of Miguel releasing anything because someone began to pry his fingers off the rifle, bending them back and breaking a few in the process. They weren’t about to wait for him to get on his knees either, as he was yanked up by his jacket.
Miguel raised his eyes for the first look at his captors. Three men—one pointing a gun at his head, one rubbing his shin and the third assessing him through narrowed eyes.
Miguel cleared his throat and spit some blood out of the side of his mouth. “Was this a trap?”
His question earned him another kick to the gut, and he doubled over.
There was no way anyone could’ve known their position, even if those two boys from earlier in the day had ratted them out, which they probably had. This had been a setup from the start, and in the off chance that he got out of this alive, he’d make it his life’s mission to root out the mole that had been responsible for the deaths of those SEALs down there.
“We ask the questions, pig. How much do you know about the man you call Vlad?”
Since Miguel had no intention of answering any of their questions—now or ever—it looked like he wouldn’t get that chance to track down the mole.
He spit blood again, this time at his interrogator’s foot. “Go to hell.”
As the butt of his own rifle came at his head, Miguel had one thought before the darkness engulfed him.
Jennifer.
Chapter One (#u46a7807e-34b5-5688-a14a-acd85a67ef0e)
Two years later
Jennifer herded her fifth-grade students into the park and yelled at two boys straggling behind. “Chase and Noah, you are not in middle school yet. I can still keep you from walking at promotion this week.”
The two boys laughed and shoved at each other, but they caught up with the class.
Jennifer pressed the smile from her lips. She couldn’t help it if she had a soft spot for rambunctious boys. Her own son kept her on her toes and he was only eighteen months old.
When her class got to the picnic area with the other fifth-grade classes already there, she set them free and she joined the other teachers by the barbecue area, sipping sodas and drinking from water bottles.
Jennifer pointed to the parents grilling the burgers and hot dogs and setting out bags of chips. “Are we helping or what?”
Olivia Gutierrez, who had the classroom next to hers, shook her head and raised her can of soda. “Our wonderful parent volunteers are taking care of everything and told us to relax.”
“We have the best parents.” Jennifer stooped next to a cooler and pulled a bottle of water from the ice. She cracked open the lid and then tipped it toward a man at the edge of the parking lot next to the park. “Is that one of ours?”
Susan Burke, the other fifth-grade teacher at their school, shrugged. “I don’t recognize him, but it’s not like I’ve seen every parent in the fifth grade. Could be a parent from Stowe.”
The man’s attention seemed to float from the kids to the teachers, and a whisper of fear brushed the back of Jennifer’s neck. She called to Mrs. Garrett, one of the teachers from Stowe. “Mrs. Garrett? Is that man in the blue shirt by the parking lot one of yours?”
Mrs. Garrett adjusted her glasses and squinted. “I’ve never seen him before, and I don’t like the way he’s looking at the kids.”
Olivia smirked and elbowed Jennifer in the ribs.
“I’ll find out right now.” Mrs. Garrett, her gray, permed hair waving at the top of her head, marched toward the parking lot like an angry bird.
One of the other Stowe teachers laughed. “Once Pilar gets done with him, he’s gonna wish he never set foot in this park.”
Jennifer smiled, but her muscles tensed as she watched Mrs. Garrett confront the stranger.
Mrs. Garrett gestured toward the kids, waved her arms and pointed toward the barbecue area. When she was done with him, the man hightailed it back to his car.
Jennifer murmured, “Guess he wasn’t a parent.”
“What?” Olivia had turned around from her conversation with a parent.
Everyone else had lost interest in the confrontation. Nobody had watched Mrs. Garrett talk to the man...except Jennifer. She’d been very interested.
“The man at the edge of the parking lot. He left.”
Olivia snorted. “Even if he’d been a parent, Mrs. Garrett had probably scared him off. She scares me.”
Jennifer wiped her clammy palms on the thighs of her slacks and intercepted Mrs. Garrett when she returned to the barbecue area, her low heels clicking on the cement.
“Who was he?”
“Just an office worker from the area on his lunch break. He didn’t realize the schools were having our end-of-the-school-year picnic today, but I set him straight.”
Jennifer’s gaze shifted to the squat office buildings scattered across the street from the park. If he worked in one of those, why had he driven a car and come through the parking lot? He should’ve crossed at the crosswalk and come in the way the kids had entered.
“Ms. Lynch, Ms. Lynch!” One of the girls from her class was waving her arms. “Do you want to do the Hula-Hoop with us?”
“Duty calls.” She put her bottle of water on a picnic table and promptly forgot about the man in the parking lot as soon as she slipped that pink plastic circle around her waist.
After a few more games, a cheeseburger, a hot dog and enough candy to put her in a sugar coma, Jennifer clasped a clipboard to her chest and raised two fingers. “Anyone in my class leaving with a parent, check in with me before you take off.”
Olivia bumped her shoulder. “With any luck, all of them will leave with a parent and we can stagger back to the school on our own.”
“I doubt that’s going to happen.” Jennifer smiled at one of her free spirits, Chase, approaching with his mother. “Thanks for your help today, Mrs. Cannon.”
“Thank you for a great school year and all your understanding for our son. We’re hoping Chase matures a little in middle school.”
Jennifer’s smile broadened. She hoped Mom wasn’t counting too much on maturity in middle school, or she’d be heartily disappointed. “I’m sure Chase will do just fine in middle school. He won’t have any problems with math. Right, Chase?”
“It’s my favorite subject.”
“I know it is.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Jennifer continued to check out her students. Then she and the other fifth-grade teachers from Richmond gathered their classes, took a head count and started the trek back to the school.
When they reached the corner, Olivia shouted, “As soon as the light changes, cross the street, no dillydallying.”
The kids, giggling at her word choice, surged into the street. Jennifer brought up the rear to make sure all the students made it into the crosswalk. As she glanced back toward the park, her heart stuttered when she spotted the so-called office worker Mrs. Garrett had set straight earlier.
Leaning against a car in the parking lot, he watched the students crossing the street. Or was he?
Jennifer couldn’t tell the precise focus of his gaze from this distance, but he seemed to be looking at the back of the line...at her.
A horn beeped and she jumped. Everyone had made it across the street before the light changed, except her. She jogged to the curb as the kids laughed and called out, “C’mon, Ms. Lynch.”
“Just showing what you’re not supposed to do.”
One of the girls, her face serious, grabbed Jennifer’s hand. “You need to be careful, Ms. Lynch.”
The girl’s words caused a little trickle of fear to drip down her spine as her gaze darted to the park’s now empty lot across the street.
“You’re right, Maddy. I do.”
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING, Jennifer cuddled her son, Mikey, against her chest, her feet kicked up on the coffee table. She pressed her face against his springy, dark hair and inhaled the scent of...toddler, very different from the scent of baby.
His lashes fluttered against his cheek, and she held her breath. She’d just gotten him to sleep after a wild play session that had involved cars, stuffed animals and crackers. She slid her feet from the coffee table and held Mikey close as she threaded her way through the toys on the floor to his bedroom. She liked that Mikey had his own room, even if they shared a bathroom. Two bedroom, one bath places in the nice areas of Austin weren’t all that easy to find, but now she had to move.
She hadn’t felt safe here ever since the break-in.
Kneeling next to Mikey’s new toddler bed, shaped like a car, she pulled back the covers and tucked him in. She kissed his forehead and whispered, “Mommy loves you.”
On the way out of the room, she flicked on his night-light. For being a fearless daredevil, Mikey didn’t like the dark. She needed a night-light as much as he did these days.
After that day when she’d come home from picking up Mikey to find that someone had broken into her house, tossed it and had stolen some small electronics, she had a hard time falling asleep at night. Every little noise had her bolting upright in bed, and then lying awake the rest of the night with eyes wide-open.
She shuffled into the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of red. She splashed some into a glass and swirled it around before taking a sip. She took another sip and closed her eyes, allowing the warmth of the alcohol to seep into her tight muscles.
Having a drink shouldn’t feel so good. She shouldn’t let it feel so good—not with her mother’s alcoholism running through her genes. Mom beat her drinking problem, but Jennifer would never let it get to that point. She sucked in another mouthful of wine and returned to the sofa, dragging a pillow into her lap.
Having Mikey had probably saved her from traveling down the same road as Mom. She couldn’t be impaired and take care of her son. She’d never do that to him.
But, oh, those nights when Mikey stayed with Mom and Dad? The booze was the only thing that allowed Jennifer to forget.
A tear seeped from the corner of her eye. Who was she kidding? She’d never forget. Would never forget the day that crisp naval officer stood on her porch and delivered the news that would shatter her world.
She stabbed the power button on the remote and clicked through the channels, settling on a comedy she’d seen before. She couldn’t laugh, not even with a half a glass of wine swirling in her veins.
As she switched the channel, the dog next door started barking. Max never barked unless something—or someone—wandered into his yard.
Jennifer set down the wineglass. On her way to the sliding door to the patio, she picked up a bat that she’d propped up in the corner of the room after the break-in. Staring outside, she flicked on the light, which illuminated the table, chairs and small barbecue that clustered on one side of the cement slab that passed for a patio. The potted plants and flowers on the other side remained in darkness. She turned the light on and off again and then sucked in her lower lip.
The bulb on the left side of the door must’ve burned out. When had that happened? After the robbery, she’d checked all her locks and lights.
A dark shape moved in the shadows beyond the patio, and her knees almost buckled. Was that an animal? She cupped her hand at the glass and peered into the night.
She needed a dog. She needed a gun. She had a bat.
Hoisting the bat in one hand, she clicked the lock down and slid open the door. She advanced toward the dark side of the patio, raising the bat like Babe Ruth.
“Jennifer?”
She spun around and faced a man standing on her patio, bathed in an otherworldly light.
Her mouth dropped open and she grabbed on to a trellis rising from one of the pots.
“Jen, it’s me. Miguel.”
Miguel? It couldn’t be. How much wine had she drunk in there? She cleared her throat and said the only thing that made sense. “You’re dead.”
Chapter Two (#u46a7807e-34b5-5688-a14a-acd85a67ef0e)
Miguel eyed the bat still clutched in Jennifer’s hand. He didn’t come this far to have it all end on her patio with a crushed skull, although he wouldn’t blame her for taking a swing at him.
He spread his arms, palms up, and stated the obvious, “I’m not dead.”
She dropped the bat. It bounced once before toppling over. Then she breathed his name. “Miguel.”
In those two syllables, she expressed all the hope, longing and love that had kept him alive for a year and half in captivity.
She reached out her arms and seemed to sway toward him, her feet apparently rooted to the cement beneath them.
He closed the space between them and swept her into his arms, holding her body so close he couldn’t tell where his ended and hers began. He pressed his lips against her soft hair, the blond strands almost glowing in the dark as if they had collected all of the moonlight.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back, her cheeks wet. “My every prayer has been answered, but how...? Why did they tell me you were dead?”
The navy and the CIA had their reasons, but he didn’t need to tell her those reasons—right now.
“The navy thought I was dead. Everyone on that mission died.”
She jerked in his arms. “Where have you been all this time?”
“I’ve been...I’ve been a prisoner of war.” Was that a nice enough way to put it?
Gasping, she took his face in her hands. “Are you all right?”
“I am now.” He kissed her lips and felt as if he were living a familiar dream, one that had kept him alive...and sane.
She returned his kiss like a woman starving. He broke away first as the passion rose, and she grabbed his hands.
“Come inside. You have to see Mikey. Miguel, we have a son.”
He cupped her face with one hand, and smoothed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “I know and I can’t wait to see him, but I have to tread carefully.”
“What are you talking about?” She tilted her head farther into his hand.
He touched his lips to her soft earlobe. “You had a break-in recently, didn’t you?”
She drew back from him, her eyes wide. “How do you know that? How long have you been here, in Austin?”
“I’ll tell you everything later, Jen.” He jerked his thumb toward the small house where his son was sleeping. “There’s something I need to do in the house first.”
“What? Is Mikey in danger?”
“No.” The lie felt right on his lips—for now. “Before we talk inside, I need to sweep the place for bugs.”
If he discovered a hidden camera, that would be a different matter completely. He’d have to leave immediately.
“Why would someone want to bug my house?” She grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tugged.
“To get to me.”
“I don’t understand any of this, Miguel. I don’t even know if you’re really here.”
“Oh, I’m here all right.” He pressed another kiss against her lips to prove it.
“D-do I need to wait outside?”
“No, but when we’re inside don’t talk to me. Pretend you’re alone.”
“I can do that. I’m good at that.”
He pinched her chin. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay, let’s do this. I’m getting cold.” She rubbed her arms.
He stopped to pick up the bat and held it up. “Glad you still have my Louisville Slugger for protection.”
“You almost got a hit upside the head for sneaking around out here.” Pressing her fingers to her lips, she led him into the house and slid the door closed behind her.
Miguel’s eye twitched as he watched Jennifer pluck up the wineglass from the coffee table and carry it into the kitchen. She’d vowed never to drink like her mother, but he guessed a dead fiancé and raising a child on your own could change plans.
He pulled the electronic bug detector from the front pocket of his jeans and began scanning the living room. He’d gotten lucky with the size of this house.
It shouldn’t take him long to get through the house...and into the bedroom to see his son.
Jennifer rinsed her glass in the sink and turned toward him.
He put his finger to his lips and flicked the switch on his bug detector. He had it set to the display option. If there were any listening devices planted in Jennifer’s house, he wouldn’t want the sound of his bug sweeper to transmit to the people on the other end of the device.
Facing the wall, he waved the tracker from corner to corner, sweeping across the bookshelf. The listening device would most likely be in this area, across from the TV.
Miguel’s pulse jumped along with the squiggly red line on his tracker. He followed its lead and was rewarded with the gleam of a tiny mic wedged between two books.
He became aware of Jen hovering over his shoulder, and he jerked back. He pointed at the TV and then cupped his ear.
She dipped next to the coffee table and picked up the remote control. Aiming at the TV, she clicked, and the sound of a commercial jingle filled the small room.
Perfect. He plucked the listening device from its hiding place, and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.
They’d hear a bunch of static on the other end and not much more. With the mic still squeezed between his two fingers, he mimed drinking a glass of water.
He didn’t remember Jennifer being very good at charades but she was catching on quickly to this game.
She scurried in the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the tap. When she put it down on the kitchen table, he dropped the device in the water.
Her blue eyes widened as she stared at the black spec settling at the bottom of the water glass. She parted her lips, but he shook his head and placed two fingers against them.
This might not be the only bug in the place. He continued his search by sweeping the kitchen, but beyond a few false reads from the microwave, he found nothing there.
Swallowing hard, he moved toward the hallway. He turned into the first room on the right and turned on the bathroom light. He gestured toward the sink, and Jennifer cranked on the water.
His throat tightened when he saw the yellow rubber duck on the edge of the tub and the cartoon fish on the shower curtain. He’d missed so damn much.
A familiar sharp pain lanced the back of his head and he dragged in a long breath. He had to stay focused if he didn’t want to miss even more of his son’s life.
With the bathroom clear, Miguel turned back into the hallway, holding his breath. He stepped into his son’s room, a gentle glow from a night-light illuminating a path to his bed.
Miguel followed the light and crouched next to his son’s bed. Pride and joy overwhelmed his senses, and he reached out and traced Mikey’s chubby cheek with the tip of his finger. He wanted to gather the boy in his arms and never let go, but he had unfinished business.
Jen had come up behind him and squeezed his shoulder.
He covered her hand with his own and squeezed back, hoping to convey all his regret and sorrow at not being here with her during her pregnancy and the first year and a half of Mikey’s life.
His nose stung, but he knew there would be no tears. He’d lost the ability to cry, but crouching here next to his son, inhaling the smell of his hair and skin, he knew he hadn’t lost the ability to feel.
That thought had been the one thing that terrified him during his months of captivity.
Miguel pushed to his feet and scanned this room with even more vigor than the others. The guys who’d planted that bug obviously hadn’t wanted to listen to the crying and fussing of a toddler.
Miguel shook his head at Jennifer and she straightened Mikey’s covers before leading him out of the room.
When he walked into Jen’s bedroom, the scent of her signature perfume hit him like a wave. Some nights he’d wake up in his cell smelling that fragrance. He knew it was a dream or hallucination at the time, but he’d wallowed in it anyway.
His gaze tripped over the king-size bed, and he momentarily squeezed his eyes shut. Had she shared that bed with anyone else since his...disappearance? He couldn’t hold that against her if she did. She had every right to move on with her life.
But the way she’d kissed him and clung to him outside gave him a selfish hope that she hadn’t.
He swept the room and got a hit. The blood boiled in his veins as he removed the device from a picture frame above her bed. He dropped that bug in the same glass of water and then finished his search of the rest of the house.
He tossed the bug detector on the kitchen counter and enfolded Jen in his arms again. “I’m just glad they didn’t plant a camera, or all of that would’ve been for nothing.”
She squirmed from his grasp and pressed her palms against his chest. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, where you’ve been and why someone is bugging my house.” Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt. “Not that I’m not thrilled you’re back and safe, even if I am still pinching myself.”
He took both of her hands and kissed one wrist and then the other. “Let’s sit down.”
“Do you want something to drink? To eat?” She skimmed her hands down his sides. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I’ll just get some water.” He pushed aside the glass with the two bugs. “Not this glass.”
She filled a glass with water from a dispenser in the fridge and handed it to him. “Let’s talk.”
As he followed her to the sofa in the living room, his mind whirled with images from the past two years of his life. What could he tell her? What would she want to hear?
The truth? Nobody could bear that. He’d barely survived it.
Jennifer sat on the sofa, curling one leg beneath her. “Can you start at the beginning?”
He settled beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders. “God, it’s amazing to see you. Unbelievable.”
“How do you think I feel? At least you knew I was alive. You even knew about Mikey...somehow.” She threaded her fingers through his. “I thought—They told me you were dead.”
“I’m sorry.” He kissed the side of her head. “If I could take it all back, all those months, everything.”
“The beginning, Miguel.” She pursed her lips together in that schoolteacher way she had.
“We received some intel on Vlad. You remember I told you about him, right?”
“He was the sniper for the other side you guys kept coming up against until he disappeared from the field.”
“He seemed to have dropped off the face of the Earth. We thought he might be dead, but we heard chatter and then received specific intelligence that he was regrouping in the caves of Afghanistan, which seemed totally likely.”
“The last I heard from you was that you were going off on some assignment as a lone sniper, apart from your team.”
“That assignment was tracking Vlad to his hideaway. I was pulled off a mission with my own team to help this one.” He might be revealing classified information to Jen, but he didn’t give a damn. The navy, his brothers, had never turned their backs on him, but he couldn’t say the same for the shadowy intelligence agencies that called the shots.
“And it all went horribly wrong. The navy wouldn’t tell me much, but I knew others had died with you.” She bumped her knee against his. “Are they alive, too?”
“No. They’re all dead.”
She covered her eyes with one hand and sniffed. “So I’m the only one who gets the homecoming.”
Miguel closed his eyes and clearly saw the ambush of the other SEALs at the cave, the pop of the guns, the flash of the gunpowder.
“What happened to you, Miguel?”
His lips twisted. “Do you have a few days?”
She snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his chest. “I have all the time you need, mi amor.”
Smiling, he ruffled her soft hair. He’d been teaching her Spanish and she’d picked it up quickly, despite her atrocious accent.
“The mission went to hell. Someone set a trap. The SEAL team on the ground was ambushed and killed, and I was captured.”
Her back rose and fell with quick, panting breaths. “H-how long? How long were you a prisoner?”
“Just over eighteen months.”
She must’ve been doing the calculation in her head because her shoulders stiffened. She mumbled into his shirt. “Where have you been the past four to five months? Why didn’t you contact me?”
“Various hospitals, starting with the one in Germany, debriefing sessions, intelligence meetings.” He didn’t mention the psychiatric units. He didn’t want her pity.
She finally raised her head from his chest and met his gaze. “I’m sure you needed...treatment. I’m sure the navy and the CIA wanted to pick your brain. But those places didn’t have telephones?”
“No. Literally, no. None for me anyway.”
“They wouldn’t allow you to use the phone?”
“No.”
“And they wouldn’t notify me? Your father? Your brother? Miguel, your father...”
“I know he’s dead.” His nostrils flared. “They wanted you to go on believing I was dead, too. They still want you believing that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Those bugs you found—is that the navy, the FBI, some intelligence agency I don’t need to know about?”
“It’s not the navy. At least the navy is not calling the shots on this one.”
“But you have reason to believe forces in the intelligence community broke into my home and planted listening devices?”
“Yes...maybe.” He didn’t know who was behind the sinister vibe he’d picked up at the debriefing center.
“Miguel, why? They should be treating you like the hero you are. They should be throwing you a ticker tape parade.”
“Part of it is the sensitive nature of the assignment. They never went public with it.”
“Part of it.” She smoothed a hand across the shirt she’d wrinkled earlier. “What’s the other part? Why wouldn’t they allow you to contact me?”
Running a hand through his hair, longer than he usually wore it, he said, “I don’t know.”
“They don’t know you’re here.”
“They don’t know where I am, but I’m sure they can make an educated guess that I’m coming here.”
“You spent eighteen months as a prisoner of war and now your own government wants to imprison you again?” Her cheeks flew red flags, indignation making her voice squeak.
“I don’t know what they want, but I wasn’t going to stick around anymore to find out.” Guilt stabbed at his gut. The FBI had warned him that he could be putting Jennifer in danger by showing up on her doorstep, but he was afraid she already was in danger and he knew he was the only one who could protect her.
She trailed her fingertips along his tense jaw beneath his new beard. “What did your captors do to you, Miguel?”
“Tried to get information out of me.” He rubbed a spot on his hip, still sore from the wounds he received from his captors.
“How?”
He thought he’d imagined the whispered question, spoken so softly, but the question lingered in Jen’s blue eyes.
If he told her everything would it be worse than she imagined? He gazed into those baby blues and a knot tightened in his gut. Never.
“It was rough, Jen, but I’m here. I survived it.” He brushed his lips across hers. “The thought of you gave me strength, pulled me through the most brutal moments of my captivity.”
“How did you know I’d be waiting for you? You must’ve figured the navy would tell me you died. You didn’t even know I was pregnant before you left. I didn’t know I was pregnant.”
“I tried not to think about it. Tried not to think of you moving on with someone else.” He scooped her hair away from her face, his fingers tightening involuntarily. “Have you?”
“Of course not.” Her lashes fluttering, she leaned in for the kiss he had waiting for her, and then she jerked back. “How did you know where I lived? How did you know about Mikey?”
“After the hospital in Germany, I went to a debriefing center near DC. I kept asking about you, kept asking for a phone. All they’d tell me was that you were okay and I needed to concentrate on getting better.” He ground his back teeth. “As if seeing you wouldn’t make me feel better immediately.”
She grabbed his hands. “Did you escape this center? Leave without their permission?”
“Yeah, but not before breaking into an office and looking at my file.” He pulled away from her and smacked a fist into his palm. “They didn’t even tell me I had a son.”
“A-are you AWOL or something?” Her gaze dropped to his clenched fist and then back to his face.
He shrugged, rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers. “They debriefed me. It’s not like I’m going to confess anything to you about my captivity or about Vlad that I didn’t already spill to them.”
“But you’re not supposed to be here.”
He ran a hand across his mouth. “This is the only place I’m supposed to be.”
“I thought I was dreaming. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again—except in those dreams.”
He curled a hand around her neck and pulled her close, but before he could plant another kiss on her mouth, a crash resounded from the room next to them.
Then he smelled the smoke...and heard the screams of his son.
Chapter Three (#u46a7807e-34b5-5688-a14a-acd85a67ef0e)
Miguel bolted from the sofa and Jennifer lunged after him, tripping over the coffee table and banging her shin. The acrid smell of fire invaded her nostrils and terror ripped through her body like the jagged edge of a knife when she saw black smoke pouring out of Mikey’s bedroom.
“It’s Mikey’s room.”
Miguel charged into the smoke-filled room as Jennifer hung back coughing, her eyes watering. The heat from the flames licking at the drapes spiked her adrenaline, and she stumbled into the room after Miguel.
“Stay back, Jen. I’ve got him.”
Miguel emerged from the dark gray cloud, Mikey clutched against his chest. He slammed the door behind him.
“Get out. Get out of the house now—back door.”
She grabbed her phone on her way to the sliding glass door and gulped in the fresh air when she hit the patio. The smoke and fire from the front of the house hadn’t made it back here yet, hadn’t escaped from Mikey’s room.
She got on the phone with 9-1-1 while stroking the back of Mikey’s head as he sobbed against Miguel’s shoulder. After giving emergency services the details, she held out her arms and Miguel transferred Mikey to her.
Even amid the terror, she couldn’t help noticing how Mikey, in his fear, had clung to Miguel. She whispered in Mikey’s ear, “It’s okay. You’re okay now. Mommy’s here.”
She rested her chin on top of Mikey’s head and met Miguel’s gaze as he pulled her away from the house. “What was that?”
“As far as I can tell from the smell, it was a Molotov cocktail.”
“Meant for you? The FBI would go to those measures to get you back? Risk harming a child?”
Miguel cocked his head at the sound of sirens in the distance. “No, but who said I was being debriefed by the FBI?”
“You’re scaring me even more, if that’s possible.” She squeezed Mikey so tightly, he squirmed in her grasp. At least the FBI had some accountability, rules to follow, public exposure. But these shadowy black ops organizations? Who held them accountable?
The sirens wailed louder, and Jennifer pointed to the side of the house. “Should we meet them?”
Her neighbor Stephen called over the back fence, “Is that you, Jennifer? What’s going on?”
She yelled, “Fire in the front bedroom. Everyone’s okay. I think the fire department just got here.”
“Oh, my God. Mikey’s room?”
“Yes, but he’s fine. We’re going out front now.”
She led Miguel to the front of the house on the other side of where the fire was blazing.
Mikey lifted his head when they got to the street, now bathed in red light. Neighbors clustered on their porches in their pajamas. The firefighters started working before the trucks even came to a full stop.
Jennifer waved at a police officer getting out of his car, and he approached them.
“Is this your house, sir?”
Miguel pointed to her.
“I rent it. I live here with my son.”
“Is the boy okay?”
“Scared but not injured.” She shifted Mikey to her other hip.
“What happened?”
She felt Miguel stiffen beside her. They hadn’t discussed what to tell the authorities. The truth?
“I—I’m not sure. We were talking in the living room, heard a crash from the front bedroom window and smelled smoke. I heard my son cry out, and my...friend went into the room and grabbed him. We all ran outside to the back of the house then, and I called 9-1-1.”
“A crash, like a broken window?”
Miguel cleared his throat. “Like somebody threw something through the window.”
The cop narrowed his eyes. “You know anyone who would do something like that, ma’am?”
“Of course not.”
Taking out a notebook, the officer asked for their names.
Jennifer didn’t blink an eye when she heard Miguel identify himself as Mike Esteban.
As they continued talking to the police officer, the firefighters seemed to be making short work of the fire that had engulfed Mikey’s bedroom, where flames were shooting up to the roof through the broken window.
Mikey squirmed in her arms, kicking his legs against her hip.
“We need to stay here, Mikey.”
“Do you want me to take him to watch? He seems interested, not scared.”
Miguel hadn’t even formally met Mikey yet. This was his first real contact with his son, and it couldn’t be more disastrous.
With her throat tight, she spilled an all-too-willing Mikey into Miguel’s outstretched arms and murmured, “He likes action. He’s his father’s son.”
Miguel wandered to the other side of the house where Mikey could get a good look at the firefighters at work.
“Ms. Lynch, is that the boy’s father?”
“N-no.”
“Where’s the boy’s father?”
Was the officer trying to imply some former husband had a motive for firebombing her house? A case of jealousy while she enjoyed the company of another man?
“His father’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.” He scratched his chin. “If what you heard is accurate, this sounds like a deliberate act. The arson investigators will do a full analysis, but I’m just trying to get as much information as I can from you to assist them.”
“I understand. I’m a fifth-grade teacher at Richmond Elementary. I don’t have any enemies that I know of and no irate parents that would go to these lengths.”
“You never know what lengths people will go to—until they do.”
Jennifer crossed her arms and shivered. “I suppose I’d better call the rental management company and let them know what happened.”
The cop looked up from writing in his notebook, peering over her head at the house. “You won’t be staying here tonight.”
About an hour later, the fire chief on the scene allowed her to go into the house to collect some of her things.
Miguel joined her inside the house, a sleeping Mikey nestled against his shoulder.
She touched Mikey’s cheek. “Thanks for sitting in the car with him while I talked to the police and firefighters and called the rental agency. You even got him to sleep.”
“After the excitement of watching the firefighters at work, he conked out.” With one finger, Miguel pushed a lock of dark hair from Mikey’s forehead. “He’s incredible.”
“You can put him on my bed while I pack up some of my stuff. The fire didn’t get much farther than Mikey’s room, but I’m going to have to replace his clothes. What the fire didn’t destroy, the water did.”
“It’s just stuff.” Miguel walked past her into the bedroom and put Mikey’s head on the pillow.
A firefighter called into the house from the front door. “Folks, you’re going to have to hurry it up.”
“Just a few more minutes.” She wheeled a suitcase from her closet and shoveled clothes into it. She dumped Mikey’s dirty clothes from the laundry basket into a plastic bag and shoved that into the suitcase.
When she came out of the bathroom with a bag of toiletries, Miguel was on his knees by the side of the bed studying Mikey’s face, stroking his hand with one finger.
Her nose tingled. Miguel’s introduction to his son might not have been ideal, but Mikey had his father back and that’s all that mattered.
“I’m ready. Did you come in a car?”
“It’s a few blocks away.” He slipped his arms beneath Mikey. “You can give me a ride to my rental and then follow me to my motel.”
“I didn’t even ask where you were staying.”
“I think we had other things to talk about. The motel is here in Austin.” Miguel put a finger to his lips, as they walked into the living room where the firefighter still hovered at the front door.
“Everything okay, folks?”
“Not perfect, but we’re all safe.” Jennifer grabbed her phone and laptop from the kitchen counter, and then shoved the computer into her school bag.
She still had to show up for class tomorrow and get through two more days of school.
With one arm still holding Mikey, Miguel took her bag from her and slung it over his shoulder.
When they got to her car, Miguel placed Mikey in his car seat and she buckled him in. “This takes some practice.”
“I want to learn everything. I want to do everything, everything I missed.”
She slammed the back door of the car and kissed Miguel. “Thanks for getting Mikey out of that room.”
“We got lucky. That was a small Molotov cocktail, never really exploded and didn’t project far into the bedroom.”
“We’ll be in touch, ma’am.”
She jerked her head to the side to acknowledge the firefighter. Had he heard Miguel? Did it matter? One of the firefighters had already mentioned something about a Molotov cocktail.
They weren’t the suspects here.
She drove Miguel to his car a few blocks away and then followed him to his motel near the university.
He waved her into a parking spot in front of the two-story building while he swung into a space in a lot at the end of the building.
She waited in the car until he walked up to it. Then she released the trunk and he hauled out her suitcase and school bag.
She followed him to his room on the first level, carrying Mikey in her arms. She eyed the king-size bed and put Mikey in the middle of it.
The motel room had a little kitchenette and Jennifer wedged her back against the counter, folding her arms. “Now that we have some privacy, what do you think happened back there? Who’s responsible?”
Miguel collapsed in a chair, his legs stretched out in front of him. She’d noticed the weight loss before, but his gaunt face and lanky appearance really hit her. Miguel had played baseball in college and had kept himself in peak condition throughout his navy SEAL training and beyond. The months in captivity had taken their toll on his body. What about his mind? How did anyone go through that without requiring psychological help to recover? Was that why the people in DC hadn’t wanted him to leave?
He ran his knuckles along his jaw, which now sported a scruffy beard. “I don’t think that was the government.”
“You don’t think? Would a government agency toss a Molotov cocktail into a child’s bedroom?” She pressed her folded arms against her belly and the knots forming there.
“The FBI? No.”
“But you weren’t being debriefed by the FBI, were you? Or the CIA?”
“No.”
“Would this...other agency do something like that?”
“That room in the front of the house could’ve been any room. Maybe Mikey wasn’t the target.”
She pushed off the counter and did a quick circle around the dumpy room. “That excuses them? They knew there was a child in the house. You said that’s how you found out about Mikey—from their files.”
He held up his hands. “I’m not excusing the inexcusable, but it would be easier to believe this other agency tossed that Molotov cocktail into a house without targeting a child, but...”
“But what?”
“What would be their motive? They want me to come back, for sure, but they don’t want to kill me.”
“Then who?” Jennifer hunched her shoulders. “Who would want to kill you...or us?”
Miguel jumped from the chair and perched on the edge of the bed. He placed a hand on Mikey’s back. “I’d never let anything happen to you or Mikey. You know that, don’t you?”
“You didn’t answer my question, Miguel. Who?”
“There’s only one person I know who wants me dead.”
Jennifer licked her lips. “You don’t mean Vlad?”
Mikey stirred and flinched in his sleep, and Miguel rubbed a circle on his back.
How did he instinctively know what Mikey needed? As far as she knew, he hadn’t been around small kids much. He’d been a younger brother, and while his older brother, Roberto, was married and had children, Miguel hadn’t seen much of his niece and nephews.
“Vlad.”
“That doesn’t make sense either. Vlad had you, didn’t he? You said you were captured and the rest of the team was killed while on a mission to find Vlad. It must’ve been his people who had you imprisoned.”
“At that time, I was more valuable to Vlad alive. He probably thought he could lure the rest of my sniper team out and pick them off one by one.”
“That didn’t happen.”
“My team thought I was dead. It almost worked once when Austin heard some chatter about Vlad’s whereabouts.”
“Austin Foley?”
“Yeah. He still thought I was dead, but Vlad’s people were responsible for an IED that killed Austin’s brother. He was all-in to track down Vlad, but the navy nixed the mission.”
“Now that you’re not useful to Vlad anymore, you think he’s out to kill you? In Texas?”
“He has operatives working Stateside now. You know the incident at the JFK Library a few months ago?”
“That was Vlad?” She plopped down in the chair that Miguel had vacated. “He’s built himself a terrorist network, hasn’t he?”
“It wasn’t just the attempt at the library. We destroyed a training camp he was running in Somalia, and he had entered into a deal with a Colombian drug cartel to exchange drugs for weapons and passage into the US.”
“Oh, my God, Miguel. This is bad. And this is the man who’s after you? After us?”
“I can’t be certain because...” Miguel absently smoothed the pad of his thumb across a lock of Mikey’s hair, over and over.
“Because what?”
“Something seemed off at the debriefing center.”
“What do you mean by that?” The faraway look in Miguel’s eyes had her digging her fingers into her upper arms. How much psychological counseling had he received after his imprisonment? Miguel had nerves of steel, but conditions like he’d experienced, even though he wouldn’t tell her about them, would be enough to break anyone.
“What seemed off, Miguel?” She glided slowly across the room until she hovered above him, still seated on the edge of the bed.
“I felt like I was being held captive again.”
“That’s understandable.” She dropped her hand to his shoulder and squeezed.
“I escaped the compound in Maryland just as surely as I escaped from my cell in Afghanistan.” He threaded his fingers through hers and she felt the slight tremble of his hand. “Something wasn’t right at that compound, Jennifer—something or someone.”
“You’re scaring me, Miguel.” Was he imagining things? Paranoid? She untangled her fingers from his and stepped back, shooting a quick glance at Mikey.
A stab of guilt lanced her belly. Miguel wouldn’t hurt his son. He’d been nothing but tender with him ever since he rescued him from that burning room—and that fire hadn’t been the figment of his imagination.
His dark eyes flickered, and he pushed to his feet. “I don’t want to scare you, Jen. Maybe I never should’ve come back into your life. I probably led the bad guys—whoever they are—right to your doorstep.”
“That’s not true.” She pressed a hand to her hot cheek. “They’d already found me. They broke into my house. Th-they’ve been watching me.”
His head jerked around. “How do you know that?”
“I just felt it, even before the break-in.”
He curled a hand around her neck. “You need a safe place, you and Mikey.”
A safe place? Away from him? “I have to finish out the school year. There are two more days of class this week and the fifth-grade promotion the day after tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’ll get you through the rest of the school year.” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “Now you need to get to sleep. You and Mikey take the bed and I’ll bunk here on the couch.”
She drew her eyebrows over her nose. He wasn’t going to sleep with her his first night back? She’d dreamed of lying in his arms so many times over the past two years and now that she had him within her reach, he was slipping away.
Was it because he saw the doubt in her eyes?
He pressed his index finger between her eyes as if to flatten out her frown. “I’m not going to sleep. I’m going to keep watch over you and Mikey.”
“You look tired, Miguel. You need to sleep, too.”
“I’ve gone without a good, full night’s sleep for so long now, I don’t even know what I’m missing anymore.” He pointed to the bathroom. “You first. Go brush your teeth and all that.”
Ten minutes later when she came out of the bathroom, Miguel, sitting on the edge of the sofa, glanced up from his cell phone, his face drawn, his eyes hollow.
Jennifer forced a smile to her face and swallowed. “All yours.”
He turned his phone facedown on the table beside the sofa and jumped to his feet. “Crawl into the bed next to Mikey. I’ll be done in two minutes and then I’ll keep watch over both of you.”
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind him, she rushed to the phone, grabbing it before it could go to sleep. She tapped the display and the most recent text message came to life.
As she read the words from Josh Elliott, one of Miguel’s sniper teammates, her heart did somersaults in her chest.
She was still clutching the phone when Miguel emerged from the bathroom, and she held it up to him, reciting the words she’d memorized.
“‘Mole. Don’t know how deep. Gunning for you—and Jen.’”
Chapter Four (#u46a7807e-34b5-5688-a14a-acd85a67ef0e)
A muscle in Miguel’s jaw jumped. “You read my text?”
“That’s all you have to say?” She waved the phone at him. “When were you going to tell me?”
“About the mole?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just found out.”
“I repeat. When were you going to tell me about it? Ever?” She tossed the phone against the back cushion of the sofa, and it bounced and landed on the floor. “You’re not back twenty-four hours and you’re already keeping things from me.”
Heat burned in his chest, along with the guilt. “Jen, this is different.”
“Really? Aren’t you going to tell me that I’m better off not knowing for my own safety? Why don’t you let me decide what’s best for my own safety? Were you planning to leave me again for my own safety?”
Clasping the back of his neck, he bit the inside of his cheek. The thought had crossed his mind that with him out of the picture, Jen would be safe, but Josh’s text indicated the mole was after Jennifer, too.
As she studied his face, her eyes grew round. “You were. You were going to leave us—me and Mikey.”
In two steps, he ate up the distance between them and pulled her stiff body into his arms. “I’m never going to leave you again. Yeah, I did think maybe you’d be better off without me back in your life, but I learned to be selfish in captivity. I’m not gonna let you go—not now, not ever.”
She struggled against him for a few seconds until he cupped her face in his hands and planted a desperate kiss against her lips. Then she seemed to go boneless in his arms, melting against his chest.
She pulled away from his kiss and whispered hoarsely in his ear, “Don’t ever leave me again, Miguel. I almost died when they told me you were dead.”
He massaged a circle on her back and rested his chin on top of her head, the honey-blond strands of her hair clinging to his beard.
She hooked one arm around his waist and slid the other hand up the front of his shirt, splaying her fingers across his bare chest. “Make it real. Let me know you’re back.”
Throwing a quick glance at his son’s sleeping form, Miguel stepped back from Jennifer’s searching hands. If he needed an excuse for not being intimate with his fiancée, that excuse lay in a flushed tumble on the bed. “Is this a good idea?”
Tugging at his shirt, she replied, “He’s not even two. He’s not going to know what’s going on over here even if he does wake up. And he won’t.”
All his muscles tensed, but Miguel tried to put a smile on his face. “If you say so.”
“I say so.” She bunched his shirt in her hands and yanked it up. “Help me out here.”
Holding his breath, Miguel pulled his shirt over his head.
Jennifer gasped.
Miguel crumpled his T-shirt in one fist. “Yeah, maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. I probably should’ve warned you.”
Her fingertips traced the scars crisscrossing his chest. Then she nudged him with her hands to turn around.
“Not much better back there.”
She smoothed her hands across the various wounds on his back, exploring them as if committing them to memory. “H-how did you ever survive this?”
“By thinking of this.” He turned to face her and wrapped his hands around her waist. He slanted his mouth across hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth, where it did a familiar tango with hers.
He could do this if he just maintained a certain level of control. He wouldn’t allow himself to let go.
Jennifer wedged her fingers in the waistband of his jeans and yanked at his zipper.
“Mama.” A wail quickly followed the single word.
Miguel jerked back from Jennifer. What had he been thinking? He could never maintain control with Jen.
She kissed Miguel’s chest. “Let me settle him. I’ll be right back.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and a few minutes later Miguel joined her, kneeling on the floor.
Mikey rubbed his eyes and let out another wail. Jennifer pulled him into her lap. “It’s okay, Mikey. We’re in a hotel, but you’re with Mama...and your daddy.”
A knot twisted in Miguel’s gut. He’d wanted to be a dad for so long, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. “Do you think he’s ready for that, Jen? Ready for me?”
“The sooner the better. Might as well get him used to the idea.”
“Doesn’t look as if he much likes the idea of a daddy.”
Mikey’s face had crumpled, and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared at his newfound father.
“He’s probably having a delayed reaction to that explosion in his room and the fire. He hardly had time to react before you swooped in there to save him. Now he’s waking up in a strange place.” She shrugged.
“With a strange man.”
“Not for long, Miguel. He’ll adapt quickly. Kids do.”
“We’re not giving him much to adapt to—a motel room instead of his home, most of his clothes and toys ruined.” He touched Mikey’s little fist, curled around a lock of Jennifer’s hair. “Has he had many men in his life?”
She sucked in a quick breath of air. “Dad and Mom have been to visit a few times, but Alicia’s husband, Troy, has probably been the most prominent male in Mikey’s life, since I see Alicia and Troy a few times a month.”
Her words left a sour taste in his mouth. He didn’t even like Troy, the husband of Jen’s best friend, and that guy had a more important role in Mikey’s life than he did.
Miguel met Mikey’s watery gaze and winked. He supposed he should be feeling grateful that Troy was there for Mikey...and Jen.
Jennifer kissed the top of Mikey’s head. “I’m going to change his diaper and try to get him to go back to sleep.”
“Can I watch? If I’m gonna be a dad, I’d better start learning the basics.”
“Of course. Nothing to it.” She scooted off the bed with Mikey clutched to her chest. Pointing to the corner where he’d stashed her bags, she said, “Bring me that green diaper bag. We’ll do it here on the floor.”
He strode to the corner and swept up the bag. He crouched beside her at the foot of the bed. “What do we need?”
“Changing pad in the side pocket, fresh diaper, wipes, a little tube of cream in the zipper pouch inside and a plastic grocery bag.”
He pulled out all the items she’d requested and lined them up on the floor, holding the diaper in his hand. “This looks like a complicated operation.”
“Only when he’s squiggly.” She grabbed Mikey’s kicking feet and pressed a kiss on each sole. “I’m going to start potty training him in about six months. Alicia said boys are slower than girls, but Bella was potty trained at twenty-six months.”
“If Bella can do it, Mikey can do it. Right, big guy?” Miguel poked Mikey’s belly with his finger, and his son rewarded him with a giggle.
Jennifer made short work of the task, and let him secure the fresh diaper into place.
He wrapped up the soiled diaper in the plastic bag and put it in the bathroom trash. Then he washed his hands and put everything back in its place in the diaper bag.
Jennifer had returned to the bed with Mikey and curled up beside him. “He’s still a little restless, so I’m going to cuddle with him until he falls asleep. Then we can get back to what we were doing. You got me all hot changing that diaper. Nothing sexier than a man changing a diaper.”
He shook his head. “That’s weird. Is the TV going to bother you?”
“Just keep it low.”
Miguel pulled his T-shirt back on and settled on the couch, clicking on the TV. He scanned through the channels until he found a news program and then glanced at Jennifer, her eyes closed.
Bending forward, he retrieved his phone from the floor and texted Josh, asking if he had any more details about the mole.
Josh responded quickly and Miguel read the text with growing dread. Josh had had some contact with Vlad’s people on Josh’s recent Stateside assignment, protecting the daughter of the drug kingpin Hector De Santos. Vlad’s guys had implied they had someone on the inside, and Josh had no reason to doubt that, at least he hadn’t wanted to bet against it.
Miguel clenched his jaw as he thought about Vlad, their nemesis. They’d been on Vlad’s trail when Miguel had been captured. He’d had a long time to think about a mole then.
Where had the SEAL team gotten the intel about Vlad’s location in those caves in Afghanistan? Through the Vlad task force? Was it just bad information, or was it very, very good information planted for the SEAL team, and him as the sniper, to walk right into an ambush?
Almost eighteen months later and after his escape from his captors, the CIA didn’t seem all that interested in finding out. Could this mole have infiltrated the top echelons? The task force itself?
Josh ended their text exchange with a curt directive. Watch your back.
Miguel tossed his phone on the cushion next to him, his gaze shifting to Jennifer, her body curved around Mikey’s, both of them sound asleep.
Miguel pulled his gun from beneath the cushion of the couch and hunched forward, watching the blue light from the TV flicker over Jennifer and Mikey. Instead of weakening him, his captivity had made him strong, hard—maybe too hard to be a family man.
But not too hard to protect them with every inch of his life.
* * *
A LITTLE HAND grabbed her nose, and Jennifer opened one eye while puffing a strand of hair from her face. “What are you doing, rascal?”
“Wake up, Mommy.”
“I’m awake.” She rolled to her back and raised her head. “Tell me you got some sleep on that couch.”
Miguel, showered and fully dressed down to a pair of scuffed cowboy boots, pushed up from the couch where he’d been perched. “I slept some.”
“How long has this one been awake?” She jerked her thumb at Mikey.
“Not long. Woke up, stared at me for a few minutes and proceeded to tweak your nose.” He stretched. “If I’d known it was that easy to wake you up, I would’ve used that method years ago.”
She ran her tongue along her teeth. “I remember how you used to wake me up...and I distinctly prefer your method.”
He gave her a tight smile. “What time do you have to get to school?”
She swallowed. Except for their desperate kisses last night, Miguel didn’t seem all that interested in picking up where they’d left off. “I have to be there at eight, but I need to drop off Mikey at his day care about fifteen minutes before that.”
“It’s close, the day care?”
“It’s a few blocks from the school.” She lifted Mikey and swung him over her head. “Can you watch him while I take a shower?”
Miguel’s eyes widened as his gaze darted around the hotel room. “This room isn’t babyproofed. Is it safe?”
Hooking Mikey on one hip and placing her hand on the other, she surveyed the room. “Don’t let him rip up the brochures on the credenza, keep the remote out of his picky little paws and, by all means, keep him away from the electrical outlets and the minibar. Otherwise, I think you’re good. I’ll change his diaper before I hit the shower.”
“Let me do that.” He took a step forward, holding out his arms. “I need the practice.”
She cocked her head to one side. “You sure would’ve come in handy these past eighteen months.”
A shade dropped over Miguel’s dark eyes and she bit her bottom lip. Miguel’s captivity had made him even more intense, but she couldn’t contain her own elation. Since his return yesterday, despite the challenges they faced, the heavy, dark cloud that had been following her around for two years had dissipated into fairy dust.
“I’m sorry, Jen.”
She went to him and placed Mikey against his chest, wrapping her arms around both of them. “Dear God, you have nothing to be sorry about, Miguel.”
“I should’ve never volunteered for that assignment.”
“I thought you didn’t have a choice. Besides, you did what you thought was right. You always do.” She brushed her lips across Mikey’s soft hair and then pressed them against the stubble on Miguel’s jaw. “Diaper duty for you.”
She spun around, blindly lurching for the bathroom, tears blurring her vision. When she slammed the door behind her, she hunched over the vanity and peered at her reflection. The woman who gazed back at her had dropped ten years since yesterday.
She knew she couldn’t expect Miguel to be the same person he was when he left her two years ago, but had his feelings for her changed? No. He’d told her she’d been the one keeping him strong, keeping him alive.
Did he really think she cared about the scars on his body? She snorted as she cranked on the water for the shower. Even though he’d lost a little muscle as a prisoner, he still had the hottest body she’d ever had the pleasure of exploring—scars or no scars. And she planned to do more exploration, damn it.
Maybe having Mikey in the same room had scared him off. She tipped her head back and let the warm spray course through her hair. He sure seemed eager to make up for lost time and learn everything he could about toddler care. Alicia’s husband, Troy, had probably changed a grand total of ten diapers in the past two years of Bella’s life.
The bathroom door burst open and Miguel’s voice rose above the water. “I think I need some help out here.”
Grabbing the edge of the shower curtain, Jennifer peeked into the bathroom at Miguel looming in the doorway with a squiggling Mikey tucked under one arm. “What happened?”
“First, he wouldn’t let me put his clothes on after I changed his diaper. Then he started jumping on the bed. When I tried to grab him, he crawled off the edge and fell on the floor.” Miguel took a deep breath. “I think he’s okay.”
“Well, these are the terrible toddler years.” She pointed to her soapy head. “I’ll be done in a few minutes.” She grinned at Miguel’s panicked expression. “Welcome to fatherhood. You’ll think of something.”
She whipped the shower curtain back in place and stuck her head under the water to rinse. When she finished her shower, she dropped the towel on the floor and slipped into some clean underwear.
She opened the bathroom door a crack and put her eye to the space. Two lumps, one large and one small, moved beneath the covers of the bed.
She swung open the door. “Everything okay?”
Miguel lifted one edge of the blanket. “We’re under the ocean waves here, swimming.”
Mikey’s muffled voice echoed Miguel’s. “Swimming.”
“In your diaper?”
Mikey wriggled from beneath the covers. “Swimming.”
“I see that, but now you have to get dressed so Mommy can drop you off at Ms. Lori’s room.”
“Does he need breakfast?”
“They feed him there.”
“What about you?”
“If I get moving and leave a little early, I can pick up something on the way.”
“We.” Miguel shrugged off the blanket and held Mikey’s arm as he clambered off the bed. “I’m taking you to school, and I’m picking you both up.”
She nodded, a pinprick of fear needling the back of her neck. “What are you going to do all day or at least until noon? We get out early today since the kids just have graduation practice.”
“I’m going to do some research.”
“On?”
“Moles.”
* * *
AFTER THEY DROPPED off Mikey and picked up some breakfast burritos, Miguel parked around the corner from the school.
Jennifer peeled back the yellow paper from her burrito and pointed to the bag. “Any hot sauce in there?”
“Thought I saw some.” Miguel plunged his hand into the bag and pulled out two packets of hot sauce. He ripped one open with his teeth and handed it to her.
“Who do you think broke into my house and firebombed it? Same group for both actions?” She squeezed the red sauce onto the end of her burrito and took a bite.
“Not sure.” He raised his hand and ticked off the recent events on his fingers. “You think someone’s been following you. Someone broke into your place and planted those bugs. Someone threw a Molotov cocktail into your house, but it wasn’t a big one.”
“Yeah, I feel so much better that someone threw a fiery rag in a glass bottle into my son’s bedroom, but it was just a little, bitty one.”
Miguel dabbed at a spot of hot sauce on his chin. “What I meant was that act could’ve been more of an attempt to warn and not kill.”
“It could’ve killed.” The hot sauce burned in her belly. “It could’ve killed Mikey.”
“I know.” He grabbed her hand. “I’m just trying to figure out motivation here. Is it the CIA trying to scare me back to Maryland or is it some terrorist cell trying to kill me?”
“And us.”
Miguel’s jaw tightened. “Maybe I never should’ve come back to you.”
“We’ve been through this already. Before you even got to Austin, someone was following me and bugging my house.”
“Probably just because they knew I’d return here. If I’d never come back, they probably would’ve lost interest in you and continued their search for me.”
She dropped her burrito and dug her fingers into the denim covering his thigh. “Do you think you could’ve kept your return from me? I’m sure I would’ve found out somehow, and then nothing would’ve kept me from your side.”
Drawing her toward him, he kissed her with his spicy lips. “I love you, Jen, more than anything, but that means keeping you safe.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that line before.” She cupped his jaw flicking her fingers through his longish hair. “This is no military cut, sailor.”
“They weren’t offering and I wasn’t asking. Had more important issues on my mind.”
She glanced at her cell phone. “I have one more question before I head off to class. How could one mole in the intel community get to you?”
He jerked his thumb at the laptop stashed in the backseat. “That’s what I’m going to try to find out.”
“Can Josh Elliott help you?” She crumpled up the waxy paper around the rest of her burrito and tossed it into the bag at Miguel’s feet.
“No. He’s headed out for another deployment. He had a little time off after his last assignment. Guess he met a woman.”
“Josh?” Miguel’s sniper teammate was more intense than Miguel. “I hope she’s tough as nails.”
“She’s...” Miguel shrugged. “I hope so, too. I’m going to be waiting right here for you at noon, and then we’ll pick up Mikey.”
“And then?”
“We should find another house. Mikey can’t stay in a motel forever.”
“Tomorrow is the last day of school. Let’s deal with it then.”
A bell rang in the distance, and Miguel raised his eyebrows. “Are you late, teacher?”
“That’s the first bell. I’m not late until the second bell.” She kissed him again just because she could and he was inches away from her. “Noon.”
Before she turned the corner, she glanced back at the car and waved. She still felt like she was moving through some crazy dream. Miguel alive, back home—and their lives in danger. When would they catch a break?
She had no time to pop into the teachers’ lounge like she usually did, so she headed straight for her classroom.
The first bell had called the kids to class, and they jostled and nudged each other as they lined up in the hallway outside the door.
“You’re almost in middle school. Behave yourselves.” She jingled her key chain at them and then opened the door.
“What’re we doing today, Ms. Lynch?”
“I must’ve told you a hundred times, Chase.” She dropped her bag on the floor and nudged it under her desk with her toe. “Cleaning up the room. You guys are going to take all your stuff home, projects, papers, supplies, and then we’re going to walk to the high school to run through the promotion ceremony.”
The morning passed quickly, and at ten thirty Jennifer got her class ready for the walk to the high school. As she gathered the kids in the hallway, Olivia sidled up next to her.
“What happened at your house last night? I heard there was a fire.”
“That news spread quickly.” Jennifer snapped her fingers. “Girls, stop talking. There are classes in session across the hall.”
“Are you and Mikey okay?”
“We’re fine. M-my friend discovered it quickly, got us out of the house and called 9-1-1.”
“Thank goodness. When you didn’t make it to the teachers’ lounge this morning, I got worried. Do you have a place to stay?”
“Motel for now. I’ll start looking for a new place soon. I was done with that place anyway.”
“It’s a good thing it’s the end of the school year.” Olivia took Jennifer’s arm. “One more day until freedom.”
Freedom? Jennifer had been feeling a noose tightening around her neck ever since Miguel appeared—no, that wasn’t fair. She’d been feeling that noose even before. She just hadn’t understood its significance.
Just like they had the day before, the fifth-grade teachers herded their students through the park and across the street to the high school. The school had reserved its auditorium for their practice.
Once inside, the students were assigned a place in line alphabetically. The teachers gathered in the back while the principal and vice principal ran the kids through their paces.
Olivia took a sip from her coffee cup. “Are you and Mikey still going to visit your sister in San Francisco this summer?”
“Maybe.” Olivia knew all about her dead navy SEAL fiancé. When would she be able to tell everyone the good news about Miguel? She was pretty tired of being the poor, young fiancée, left to raise a child by herself.
She wanted to shout the news from the rooftops. She wanted to tell Troy that Mikey no longer needed a father figure—he had his own father.
Jennifer sighed. “You still going out to visit the in-laws?”
“God, yes, for two long weeks.”
A buzzing sound had Olivia patting her pockets. “It’s not mine.”
Jennifer reached for her purse hanging over the back of a chair in the last row of the auditorium and scrambled for her cell phone in the side pocket.
Her heart did a little flip when she saw the number for Mikey’s day care. She held up one finger to Olivia. “Excuse me a minute. I have to take this.”
“Hello?”
“Oh, Jennifer. I—I...” Franny, the owner of the day care, dragged in a ragged breath. “First of all, let me assure you that Mikey is safe.”
The blood rushed to Jennifer’s head all at once, and she grabbed the edge of the seat. “What does that mean? What happened?”
“Mikey’s fine and we already called the police.”
“The police? Franny, tell me what happened.”
“A man broke into the center, into Ms. Lori’s room. Jen, he tried to take Mikey.”
Chapter Five (#u46a7807e-34b5-5688-a14a-acd85a67ef0e)
Jennifer gulped and pressed two fingers to her throbbing temple. “Where is Mikey now?”
“He’s in my office with me. We’re waiting for the police right now.”
Shifting the phone away from her mouth, Jennifer tapped Olivia’s arm and said, “I have to leave. Mikey’s okay, but something happened at his day care. Tell Sandra I’ll be gone the rest of the day.”
Olivia’s eyes grew round. “Go, go. I’ll get your class back to the school and dismiss them.”
As Jennifer hustled from the auditorium, she continued with Franny. “What happened? What do you mean someone tried to take him? Was it someone who tried to sign him out and pretend I sent him?”
Had Miguel tried to pick up his son, not realizing the security measures in place at the day care?
“I mean take, Jen, as in forcibly try to remove him from the center.” Franny released a little sob.
A blast of adrenaline shot through Jennifer’s body and she quickened her pace back to the school. “Are you sure Mikey’s okay?”
“He’s fine, sitting here having a snack. I don’t know what we would’ve done if that other man hadn’t charged into the play area and challenged the man who had Mikey.”
“What? Another man?”
“As the man ran into the playground with Mikey under his arm, another guy leaped over the fence and knocked the kidnapper down. He got Mikey away from the man and handed him over to us. The kidnapper ran and the last I saw of Mikey’s protector, he was going after him.”
Mikey’s protector? It had to be Miguel. He’d saved his son’s life twice in two days.
Jennifer’s heart was still beating erratically by the time she jogged the two blocks to Mikey’s day care. When she got there, a police cruiser was stationed out front.
She bolted through the front gate and ran to the play yard, where two cops were talking to Franny and Lori. Panic stabbed the back of her skull when she didn’t see Mikey with them.

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