Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) (26 page)

She brushed at the strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail to dangle down her cheek.  Her nose was pink as though she’d been out in the sun.

Because he just had to touch her, he tucked the wayward strand of hair behind her ear and immediately remembered what the skin under her blouse had felt like while he caressed her.

Tess raised her sherry-brown eyes to his face and color washed up her throat.

Was she thinking the same thing? Jesus—Every time she looked at him, really looked at him, he got hard.

“Ian likes his coffee fresh brewed and hot, and hotel room coffee leaves a lot to be desired,” she said. “I’ve brought him a coffee maker and coffee.

“Good, we can have a decent cup after dinner.”

The mouth-watering smell of Chinese food wafted up from the large plastic bag she carried.

“I can take that for you, too,” Brett offered.

She shook her head. “I’m good. He’s on the second floor. Come this way.” She led the way to the elevators.

The doors opened and spilled out a party of five. They stepped into the elevator alone. “Do you always call your father Ian?” Brett asked. 

She punched the button. The doors closed. “Yes.”

The brevity of her answer, meant to dissuade him from asking another, only torqued his impatience. She was so closed off from him. “What do you call your stepfather?” he asked.

“Milton.”

“You’ve been out in the sun today,” he commented.

“Yes. We went to Mission Beach for a while before I dropped Ian off here to settle in.”

“You worked today?” Why hadn’t she spent the whole day with her father?

“I had a couple of interviews that I couldn’t reschedule.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the corridor. She turned right into a dimly lit hallway. The striped pattern of the carpet looked like it was moving beneath their feet.

“You look like you’ve been out in the sun today, too,” she said.

“I worked as a BUD/S instructor today.”

“Have you received orders?”

“No. I volunteered to fill in for someone.”

She remained silent a moment.  “How did it feel?”

“Great.” He smiled.

“He’s in room fourteen-nineteen.” Tess paused in front of the door and knocked.

The door swung open and Ian Kelly braced a hand on the door facing while he raised the drink he held in greeting. “Come in.” He moved aside to let them pass.

Brett’s first impression was that Tess looked nothing like her father, despite her coloring. The second thing he observed was that Ian was, if not drunk, well on his way.

A half-empty bottle of Scotch sat on the end table in the sitting area of the room.

An expression of shock and uncertainty crossed Tess’s features.  Her cheeks grew flushed, brightening her already heightened color. Her movements jerky, she stalked to the small table in front of the sliding glass door and set her two bags next to the open laptop there.

“I’ll set up the coffee pot,” Brett said in the silence that followed.

The early evening light shone in from the balcony, but did nothing to lighten the tension in the room.

“I was scooped today by Sixty Minutes,” Ian said his words a little slurred. “The AP has released my story, but Sixty Minutes will run a segment with the same info tonight.”

Brett removed the coffeepot from the box and set it on another end table.

Tess placed a one-pound can of coffee and some filters down beside him. “Make it strong.” She turned back to Ian. “It’ll bring exposure to the rhino’s plight, and more people will read your story tomorrow because the show will whet their appetite for more information.” Though her tone was positive, she clenched her hands at her side and bit her lip.

Brett opened the coffee can, positioned a paper filter inside the machine, and using the scoop inside the can, measured out a generous amount while paying equal attention to Ian and Tess.

“Everything is about timing, Tess.” Ian flopped down into a chair. The liquid in his glass sloshed over his hand. He set the container aside to sling the scotch off his fingers, then wiped them on his pants leg.

Tess flinched.

Brett went to the sink and filled the glass carafe with water.

“You know the old adage about how a picture’s worth a thousand words? It’s true.”

“Then you need to apply for a job writing for one of the national news shows,” she said, her tone edgy with impatience.

Ian tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes.  “There’s an idea.”

Her lips tightened at his slurred words.

Brett poured water into the reservoir and pushed the on button.  “Coffee’s on,” Brett said into the lull.
Are we having fun yet?

Ian’s gaze settled on him, his expression suspicious. “So you’re the SEAL.”

Ooooo-kay.
Brett nodded. He was put off by this whiny, arrogant SOB. The only thing keeping him in the room was Tess.

Ian rose to his feet and sauntered over to him, a slight sway to his gait. “Did one of your team try to kill you?”

“I don’t know.” He’d been certain Derrick was responsible. Had that green blur behind the AK-47 been him?  It had to have been.

“Have you recovered any memories since the attack?” Ian stepped closer, invading his space.

Brett focused on his face. Could that one flash even count? “No.”

“Why’s your CO jerking you around?”

Brett’s attention shifted to Tess. He hadn’t told her that. “I expect to get orders in the next week or so.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed and he studied him, his tawny gaze intent. “But you’re not rejoining your team?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Have they given you a reason?”

“They’re waiting until the investigation into the boy’s disappearance is finished.”

“Did you kill him?”

When someone even suggested it, it was like he’d been punched in the balls. “No. I don’t know what happened to him.”

“Come eat something, Dad,” Tess said, her voice soft.

Brett frowned at her use of Dad instead of Ian. What had it been like to dance to this self-centered asshole’s tune when she was a child?  It was bad enough watching her do it as an adult.

***

Tess studied Brett as he chewed. His silence had become conspicuous. In fact, she’d never known him to be anything but cocky and confident. This subdued Brett was unfamiliar, a new side to the man she’d begun to know.

She’d wanted to find a hole and crawl into it when Ian had opened the door. What had Brett thought?

Ian raised his coffee cup and took a sip. “Tess said your mother is here visiting.”

“Yeah. She’s staying with my sister right now.”

“Does she know about all this?”

Brett’s features tightened. “No. And I’m not telling her unless I have to.”

Ian nodded. “No need to worry her until something negative happens.”

With a little food in his stomach, he was showing improvement. And at least he’d given up his drink and switched to coffee. He’d smelled like scotch at nine o’clock this morning. And now—how long had he been drinking like this?

An awkward silence permeated the room broken only by the sound of chewing.

When Ian set aside his plate, Tess said, “I’ll clean up in here. Why don’t you two go out on the balcony and talk?”

“I’d prefer to stay in the room, Tess. Less chance of someone overhearing our conversation,” Brett said. He rose from his seat, stacked his plate with hers and Ian’s, and dumped them in the trash. He reached for one of the cartons and closed it. She rushed to help him. And though she tried to catch his attention, he didn’t look at her.

Ian rose, retrieved something from his bag, and unfolded it. He stretched the map of Iraq out on the table.

Brett studied the map, his expression dispassionate.

“I know you can’t tell me precisely where you were supposed to deliver the boy,” Ian said.

“No.” Brett remained silent for a long moment, a waiting stillness in the way he held himself. “There’s a small market in Al Rashid. We’d stop sometimes and buy oranges. You can see the dome of the Al Rasheed Hotel from there. Have you ever stayed there?”

“Yes. When Baghdad was first invaded.” Ian rubbed his hand on the side of his face.

“Really spectacular architecture. They’ve replaced the mosaic floor of George Bush in the lobby with one of Saddam Hussein.”

“I thought perhaps that might happen,” Ian said, his tone quiet.

“It may have changed again. A hotel group came in and started renovating it for some conference or other while we were still down range.” He drew a deep breath. “We’d drive through the surrounding neighborhoods fourteen, fifteen blocks west of the hotel. Most of the people were friendly, especially the kids.

Ian nodded, his features tight with concentration. “The boy’s name?”

  Brett studied his face for a long moment, his jaw pulsing. “Sanjay al-Yussuf.”

“You don’t remember any of this?” Ian asked.

“No.” Brett swiveled toward Tess.

He had remained still for so long that his sudden movement startled her.

“I have to go. Thanks for dinner.”

He looked nothing like the Brett she’d begun to know. The shuttered, controlled look of his features was distant and frightening.

He strode to the door and was through it before she could respond. “I’ll be right back, Ian.”

She broke into a run as she saw him disappear into the corridor in front of the elevators. “Brett?”

He pushed the elevator button, impatience in every line of his body.

“Brett.”

“I should have fucking walked away.”

“Why didn’t you?”

His blue eyes settled on her face, burning with anger. “Because of you. Because you still believe in him.”

The elevator door opened and he got in. “He’s spiraling, Tess. Desperate for a scoop, and I gave it to him.  I’ve placed my career and my freedom in the hands of an alcoholic, a-a-,” He swore beneath his breath. “Egomaniac. Fucking ridiculous.”

She clutched her hand against her midriff where fear and doubt twisted. Hearing him put into words what she’d been thinking intensified the feeling.

“It will be all right,” she said. “He needs this as badly as you do.”

Brett studied her features. “I hope you’re right. Because I’ll be looking at the inside of a prison cell if you’re wrong.”

The words hit her like a punch.

The elevator door closed between them.

CHAPTER 21

Brett parked the rental car, a Buick, at Osprey point and exited the car. Inactivity was driving him crazy. As he approached the point, he looked out at the horizon. A grayish sheen colored the distant sky and the clouds touched with blue-gray had an angry look. A storm threatened out at sea, ensuring some good waves as long as it didn’t blow further inland.

The sound of the car door shutting behind him drew his attention and he turned.

“This is beautiful, Brett,” Clara said.

“Yeah, it is.”

She raised the camera to her eye and started taking pictures.

Though he watched Clara as she moved around the point, the words
shouldn’t have done it
beat against his brain. He couldn’t think about that right now. It was over with. The only good day was today. Only yesterday sucked.

He couldn’t escape the decision he’d made. He’d spilled info to Ian Kelly. He’d given him the boy’s name and his location. In code, but it still counted. NCIS hadn’t said he couldn’t talk about it, but in Special OPS they didn’t talk about anything. He’d broken the code. Hell, he’d already broken it with Tess. He’d let her in further than any other person, including his mother or sister. He’d let his dick control his brain, but never again. If he survived this thing with his career and his life intact, he’d never let anyone close enough to compromise him again.

But there had been no other choice. All the feelers he’d put out, both back in Iraq and here in the
real world,
had given him nothing. No one knew anything. Or if they did, they weren’t talking. That silence bothered him more than this crap with Ian Kelly.

They were his brothers-in-arms. And he felt like he’d been abandoned in enemy territory.

Did his teammates think he’d killed the kid?

Developing a reputation with the teams was important. Living up to the reputation you’d established, even more. How long would it be before the other teams started wondering, doubting?  Had they already begun to?

SEALs were pack animals. They did their best work as a team. His pack was a hundred miles away in the desert training. They’d be dirty, sweaty, and carrying forty-pound packs on their backs. God, he’d give his left nut to be there with them.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Clara asked. “You can’t just keep saying it’s this delay in orders.”

“I can’t talk about it, Mom. It’s about some things that happened down range.”

“Secret or just bad?” she asked.

“Both.”

“I know you took an oath to maintain secrecy. I won’t ever ask you to compromise that. But if you need to talk, your secrets will always be safe with me.”

Brett looked away as guilt and other emotions crashed together to form a knot in his throat that threatened to choke him. Why had he decided to trust strangers when he had her and Zoe? “I know you’ve always got my six, Mom,” he said when he could speak.

“Always.”

He had to focus on the here and now for a while instead of the what ifs or should haves. He pointed to a large rock formation in the cove, its top coated with bird droppings from the many seafowl that landed there. “That big rock is affectionately called Bird Shit Rock around here. It’s Bird Rock on some maps or Reeds Rock.”

“I can see why they named it that.” She moved around the parking lot behind the wood and wire barriers to take several shots from different angles.

‘We can walk out onto the point and all the way around so you can get some more pictures,” he suggested.

The path just outside the barrier, used by tourists and locals, was well worn and far enough away from the edge to be safe. They picked their way out to the point where waves surged against the rocks. Sea spray splattered their clothes and hair. Clara laughed and used the tail of her shirt to wipe off her camera lens and took a picture of Brett as the water splashed him.