SEAL Under Siege (Men of Valor) (7 page)

Except that was not why he was going to call her. This wasn’t about her voice or her pretty face or the way she was both confident and vulnerable at the same time. This was about the mission, and nothing more.

He punched his home number into the base of the oversized, outdated office phone. As it rang, he ran his pen over the letters he’d written during his conversation with Commander Kyle, replaying the commander’s words over and over.

The second will be first
.

He took the sentence apart, putting the words back together in different structures.

Will the second be first?

The first will be second.

First, the second will be.

What if it wasn’t a complete thought at all? What if the words had been transposed in the translation? That wasn’t uncommon, and usually easy to figure out in context. But there was no perspective for these words. He could be missing a whole phrase and not even know it.

He was so consumed with scribbling words on his page that he didn’t realize he’d missed five rings until his old-fashioned answering machine clicked on.

“Leave a message at the beep.”

His stomach churned. Why hadn’t Ashley or Staci answered?

Maybe they were waiting to find out who was calling.

After the tone sounded, he said, “Ash? Staci? Are you there? It’s Tristan. Pick up.” He waited for several long seconds, each tick of the hand on his watch twisting the knot in his stomach a little tighter. “Call me back as soon as you get this.”

He slammed the receiver down, pushing his boots against the floor until he sat ramrod-straight in his chair. Grabbing his cell from his bag, he checked for a call or text from his sister.

Nothing.

He hit the button to speed-dial her cell phone, his toe tapping a staccato cadence on the tiled floor. The call went immediately to voice mail, and he ground out a succinct message for her. “Call me back.”

Had he made a terrible mistake bringing Staci home? Had she been attacked, and Ashley with her?

He couldn’t help but replay the scenes from two years before in his mind. Ashley’s interference in a human trafficking ring had led to her being chained up and held in a dank cell. Matt had turned his back for only a moment, and she’d been taken.

What if it had happened again?

He pushed equal parts bile and fear back down his throat and scrolled through his phone to find the number that Staci had given him. It was too soon to think about the worst. Maybe they were just in the backyard.

Pressing the button to call Staci, he took several deep breaths through his nose as it rang and rang, finally clicking over to voice mail. He didn’t bother leaving her a message, instead jumping to his feet and racing for the door. As he shoved an arm into the sleeve of his jacket, he stopped short.

Where could he go? Back to his place, maybe?

Where would the girls have gone? If they’d left the house voluntarily, they could have gone shopping or to...the shelter.

He jabbed stiff fingers at the key pad on his phone, praying that the girls would be there.

“Pacific Coast House, this is Dawn. How can I help you?”

“This is Lieutenant Sawyer. I’m looking for my sister, Ashley Waterstone. Is she—”

“Sure thing. Hold on, she’s right here.”

He pressed a hand to the top of his desk, his elbow locking into place and keeping him from falling over as relief washed through him.

“Tristan?”

He wanted to yell at her for scaring him, but instead he let out a loud sigh.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice rising.

Keep her calm. He had to keep her calm. “Everything’s fine. I was just trying to get in touch with Staci. Is she with you?”

“Of course. I had her drive me here.”

He let out a slow breath between tight lips, rubbing his temples with slow circular motions. Of course. He’d thought about warning Ashley about the danger, letting her know to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious hanging around, but in the end, he’d decided against it. Rock would have his head if he scared or upset Ashley. And anyway, he’d assumed they’d stay in the house, where they’d be safe. He should have known better. Since he hadn’t warned Ashley that there could be danger, she’d taken Staci under her wing and into the wide open.

But what could he say to get her to understand that Staci couldn’t leave the house without a guard?

A thump at his office door had him looking into the face of Captain Crawford, his executive officer—second in command of the entire naval base at Coronado. He covered the mouthpiece of his phone and straightened up. “Sir?”

“Tomorrow’s tactical meeting has been moved to fourteen hundred today.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Be at my office a half hour early so that we can look at the intel and compare notes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Crawford stalked away as Tristan lowered himself back into his seat. He wouldn’t be able to get away to personally see that Staci got safely back home.

“Tristan?”

“Sorry. My XO just stopped by.”

“What did you need?”

His eyes roamed the room, searching for something to remind him why he’d been trying to track them down in the first place. He landed on the notepad by his phone. “Can I talk with Staci?”

“Staci, huh?” That infernal smile filled Ashley’s voice. “And just what is it you want to say to her?” She was teasing him as if he were sixteen instead of thirty-three. Actually, she’d been doing that a lot lately, trying to get him to open up about his romantic relationships. Or at least define his relationship with Robin, who he hadn’t seen in well over a year. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he and Robin had never been serious. He couldn’t do serious after losing Phoebe.

Ashley was pushing him to find that special someone.

She just didn’t know that he didn’t want one.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. There was something amazing about the idea of sharing his life with a sweet-smelling, hand-holding, eye-popping woman. He just couldn’t be there for her when she really needed him.

And he couldn’t live with himself if that happened again.

“Just put her on the phone, would you?”

Ashley laughed. “Fine.”

A moment later, Staci’s voice, clear and strong, rang through the line. “Hello?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, the urge to yell at her battling the relief that she was safe. “What were you thinking leaving the house?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, I figured he doesn’t know where I’m staying.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And your sister asked for my help.”

“She has no idea what kind of danger you’re in.”

“At all?”

“None. Stress can raise her blood pressure, which is bad for the baby and bad for her. It could cause her to go into early labor or worse, so I’m trying to keep her calm.”

“So you didn’t tell her anything?”

He pinched his eyes closed, sinking to his chair and leaning his elbow on the desk. Pressing a finger and thumb against his eyelids, he said, “Well, what should I have told her?”

She was silent for a long time, her even breathing the only thing assuring him that she hadn’t hung up.

Shaking his hand and letting the tension fall away, he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to leave the house this morning. And then I couldn’t reach you. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I forgot it when we left the house this morning.” Her words barely escaped, and the picture of her in his mind was her huddled form in the corner of that dark room in Lybania.

“All right. We’ll talk about this tonight. Right now I have to get ready for a meeting. I can’t come get you, so I’m going to send one of my guys to make sure you get home safely. All right? I want you to go home and stay at home until I get there. Understood?”

“Fine.” Power flickered in her single word, like she wasn’t really agreeing to his terms.

“I’m not kidding.”

“I know.”

She hung up before he could say anything more, and he shouted down through the open door. “Willie G., get in here!”

The kid’s heavy footsteps thudded down the hallway, and he appeared, breathless and at attention. “Sir?”

“Whatever is on your schedule this afternoon, cancel it. I have a special assignment for you.”

SEVEN

S
taci knelt before six-year-old twin sisters, both with their blond hair in pigtails and mouths circled in the remnants of red punch. Studying the papers they held in their hands, she nodded slowly before pointing to one of the drawings. “A purple giraffe, not often seen in nature. Very creative, Zoe.”

The little girl giggled as Staci shifted to her sister. “And what do we have here? Is this you and your sister, Tiara?”

“And our mommy.”

“What a beautiful family.”

The girls laughed, both showing off their missing front teeth and sparkling blue eyes. But when the shelter’s front door opened and someone stepped inside, both girls’ eyes grew wide with fear.

Staci spun around, keeping herself between the little ones and whatever had scared them.

“Will?” It was easy to see how the broad-shouldered SEAL would frighten Zoe and her sister, even with a genuine smile plastered on his face.

“Ms. Hayes.” He tipped the brim of his nonexistent hat.

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t be much older than you are. Just call me Staci, please.”

“L.T. sent me to make sure you and Mrs. Waterstone make it back home safely.”

A tiny hand slipped into hers, and Staci gave it a gentle squeeze before bending over to meet the girl’s blue eyes. “Tiara, this is my friend Will. Will, this Tiara and Zoe.”

He squatted in front of them, his camouflage pants pulling at the knees as he dug into a side pocket. “I thought I might run into some pretty girls here. So I brought a few treats.” He produced a couple colorfully wrapped suckers, holding one in each hand out to the girls.

“Go ahead, girls. It’s all right.”

Ashley had joined them, her encouragement all that the kids needed. They snatched the lollipops and unwrapped them in a flash before disappearing to the playroom.

“Will, what are you doing here?” Ashley took a deep breath and touched Staci’s arm as though using it for support. “Is Matt all right?”

His forehead wrinkled and then returned to normal. “Sure. The senior is just fine. Far as I know.”

“And Tristan?”

“L.T.’s fine, too.”

“Then what brings you down here?”

“I was in the area, and L.T. asked me to drop by, make sure you two made it home okay.”

Staci bit her lip to keep from revealing too much to Ashley, looking at her feet until Will spoke again.

“Are you about ready to go? Or should I come back?”

“Will Gumble, tell me what’s going on.” With her hands on her hips, feet spread wide, Ashley leaned forward. Despite the concern etched into her words, she looked like a miniature linebacker, ready to face the field of battle.

He swallowed, running a finger around the collar of his T-shirt before shoving his hands into his pockets and looking to Staci for help.

But what was she supposed to say? How could she assure Ashley enough to keep her calm, but give her a valid reason for Will to stay by their sides?

God, give me the words.

“It’s my fault.” Two sets of eyes, heavy with curiosity, swung toward her. She tried for a smile, but only produced about half of one. “I was in a car accident recently, and I guess your brother is worried that I might not get you safely home. He sent Will here to make sure that we make it back to the house safely this afternoon.”

Will nodded his agreement with the story.

“That’s ridiculous.” Then Ashley sighed like a sister used to putting up with her brother’s overprotective ways. “Fine. I’m almost ready to go.”

She walked to the shelter’s front desk, which sat in the line of sun coming through the windows on either side of the front door. Speaking quietly with Mildred, the shelter director, and the office administrator, Ashley pressed her fists into the small of her back, as though the extra weight she carried made her ache all over.

“Thank you for coming,” Staci said, keeping her voice low enough that it would just reach the man standing beside her.

“L.T. says you’re in a bit of trouble. I’m happy to help.”

“Were you there?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “In Lybania?” she clarified. “Were you there that night?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. And then very quietly, “Yes, ma’am. I was with Mrs. Timmons.”

Her chest tightened at the memory, emotions still so close to the surface that she barely managed to squeak out another word. “Thank you for that, too.” The lean man with ruffled brown hair couldn’t have been any older than her, but he’d been instrumental in rescuing two of her favorite people in the world. She had a sudden urge to hug him.

Ashley turned back to them, just in time to stop Staci from making the gesture, her voice singing through the big house’s entryway. “Ready to go?”

“Hope to see you again, Staci,” Mildred said.

She hoped so, too. “It was nice to meet you all.”

Will held the door open, and they stepped into the San Diego sunshine, which made the uncovered skin at her neck and forearms tingle. She stopped on the sidewalk in front of the shelter, staring up at the sky and letting the sun warm her face.

An engine revved somewhere down the street, but no car passed by them. Will, too, perked up at the sound, looking over the tops of the cars parked along the narrow residential road. She caught his eye, and he shrugged, shaking his head.

She tried to tell the knot in her stomach that if the SEAL wasn’t concerned, she didn’t need to be either. But here in the open, she couldn’t help but feel exposed, visible to the whole world.

Exposed for a particular American man to find.

“We parked across the street.” She pointed to Ashley’s car, which hadn’t seemed far from the shelter that morning. Now it felt like a football field away when she thought about the man after her.

Biting her lip if only to have something to focus on other than the tremors in her hands and wayward direction of her thoughts, she took a step toward the car.

The man looking for her didn’t know that she was staying with the Sawyers. He couldn’t know that she’d been at
this
shelter today.

The unseen car revved its engine again, and her heart jumped into her throat, but she pushed forward.

Ashley followed her between two parked SUVs, and just before Staci stepped into the open street, Will slipped between the two women. She turned to glance into his eyes. He wasn’t as tall as Tristan, but his shoulders were just as steady as she took the last step into the unprotected road.

Nothing happened. No careening car or sniper bullets.

She let out a wavering breath on a laugh. How silly to work herself into such a frenzy over nothing. She was safe. Taking a second step, the tension in her neck drained away, and she managed a quick grin back at Will, who held his arm out for Ashley.

But as Staci took a third step, tires at the end of the road shrieked against the pavement, the smell of burning rubber already assaulting her nose.

She froze in the middle of the road, her muscles refusing to move.

Just move. She had to move.

But she couldn’t.

A white van—just like the one that had run her off the road four days before—barreled down on her, and she was helpless.

What had started six weeks before was about to end. The man was going to find his mark.

Suddenly Will shouted. “Stay put.” He held up his hands to Ashley, motioning for her to remain between the two parked trucks. And then he slammed into Staci, the momentum of his body carrying her across the rest of the street and into a BMW with a car alarm that immediately hissed and honked its displeasure.

Wrapped in Will’s embrace and tucked against the front of him, Staci couldn’t even see the van that thundered past them, almost as loud as her heart.

She gasped and grappled at the front of his shirt, looking for some purchase, some way to catch her balance as her head spun around and around.

He stepped away too quickly, holding her up only by her shoulders.

Tristan would have kept her in his arms until the world righted itself. Until she wasn’t consumed by the shaking in her legs or the lack of oxygen in her lungs.

“Are you all right?” Will shook her gently, his fingers wrapped around her arms. “Talk to me, Ms. Hayes.”

She blinked away the pain thrumming through her head and rubbed her backside where she’d collided with the car. “Call me Staci.”

A slow smile crept over his face. “Good. What day is it?”

“A rotten one.”

“Close enough.”

Just then Ashley’s winded breaths reached her side. With soft hands, Ashley rubbed Staci’s wrist. “Are you all right? That van almost hit you.”

“Yes.” Ashley was free to take that in response to either her question or her statement.

The good Lord knew that Staci was well aware of what had almost happened.

* * *

“And the white van didn’t even slow down. It was like the driver was
trying
to hit her.”

Tristan stared across the living room at Staci, whose jean-clad legs were pulled all the way under her chin as she rocked gently on one of his couches, while Ashley all but acted out that afternoon’s events.

“You have to do something.”

“I will.” At his words, Staci looked up from where her forehead had been resting on her knees. He gave her a reassuring nod, but she still looked paler than a sheet. “Why don’t you get ready for bed, Ash? You’ve been yawning for the last twenty minutes.”

His sister eyed them both before accepting his hand to help her out of the recliner. In a hushed tone, she said, “If he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her and held her against that other car, I think she would have been hit.”

The air left his lungs. It should have been him. He should have been the one to protect Staci, to wrap her in his arms, to comfort her until she stopped shaking.

Instead he’d heard it all second-hand. First from a steely-eyed Willie G. and then from his frantic sister. Patting her arm, he said, “It’s going to be all right. I’ll take care of it. I promise. Now try to calm down and get some rest.”

She nodded before giving Staci a quick hug and then disappearing up the stairs.

Tristan stood over Staci, his hands on his hips. She looked up from where her chin still rested on her knees, her head tilted all the way back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d know I was here. Or there. I didn’t mean to put Ashley in danger.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face then through his hair, a sigh escaping from somewhere deep. Here he was feeling like a failure, and she felt the same way. They were some team.

Falling to the couch beside her, he put his arm around her shoulders and, as if they’d done this a thousand times, she turned into his embrace. Her head fell to the hollow where his neck and shoulder met, fitting there like he’d been designed for just that purpose.

Her hair smelled of tropical fruit, and he breathed her in. Her slender shoulders trembled in his embrace, and once again, he felt her fear, knew her terror.

But he couldn’t stop it.

At least not yet.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Anything to keep her tears at bay.

She shook her head, curling even further into his arms until her head lay against his throat. His pulse picked up.

He hadn’t held a woman like this in a long time. It’d been at least four years. Probably a whole lot longer than that. He’d never done this with Robin, who he’d seen on and off for a year. She wasn’t big into open displays of affection, which was good for him because he much preferred keeping his distance.

If she didn’t get close, he couldn’t let her down.

If she never relied on him, he couldn’t fail to be there for her.

He’d made this mistake before Robin, with Phoebe. And he wouldn’t do it again.

Staci sniffed, and he leaned back, hooking a finger under her chin. She kept her eyelids down, but there were no tears clinging to her long lashes. And the tip of her nose wasn’t red.

She hadn’t broken down yet.

“I got a call today from one of my linguistics instructors at Annapolis.”

Her eyes flew open so that her lashes mingled with the long bangs hanging over her forehead, and he battled the desire to brush them out of her way. “What did he say?”

“He thinks he translated the words on the map.” With the hand not holding her close, he reached into the cargo pocket of his pants and pulled out the page of scribbled notes. “I was hoping you might be able to give it some context.”

She grabbed for the page. Holding it beneath her nose, her eyes roved back and forth under tense eyebrows. After several long seconds, she shook her head and looked back up to meet his gaze. “The second will be first?”

“If I say that the word translated as second is usually used to connote the second in command, does that help?”

Closing her eyes, she mumbled the phrase over and over. “What about the first? Does that mean the leader or just the first in a series?”

“That’s not clear.”

She stretched her legs out and rolled out of his hold, which left him with an odd feeling of emptiness. He tried not to focus on it, instead watching her face work through the words and follow his line of thinking as he’d rearranged the words. “You think it might be missing a line?”

He chewed on his bottom lip. “Maybe.”

She nodded, talking it through. “But the paper wasn’t torn, so if that’s true then it would’ve had to have been left only half-written when it was given to the man who came into my cell.”

“Unless he wrote it, and hadn’t had a chance to finish.”

Her lips puckered in thought and she scratched at the scar in front of her ear. “And is it saying that the second will be the target of the attack? Or that it’s just somehow tied to him?”

“Okay, let’s say it is complete and that the deputy is the one who’s going to be attacked. Who could it be referring to?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth before spitting out ideas as they seemed to come to her. “The deputy mayor? The second in command at Coronado?”

Crawford. He’d just spent all afternoon with the guy. The captain wasn’t his favorite, but he was a smart man and an accomplished sailor. And he sure didn’t deserve to be the target of whatever was going to go down.