Chapter 19
Lochlan
In the air, I manage to catch a few winks before another nightmare grips me in its terrible jaws. Drenched in sweat, I ask the flight attendant for a drink. When visions of the dead refuse to fade, I order another. These motherfucking terrors are getting worse. Like a cancer, they eat away at my insides and if I don’t get rid of them soon, I could lose everything.
I shouldn’t work until I have them under control, let alone reenlist. How the hell did I become such aderro? Only last week, I was painting a nursery, going to birthing classes, and having sweet dreams of my baby girl. Now, my life is on hold.
If this is some serious-shit disorder, I need to shove it right back into my unconscious, where it belongs. If people find out I got PTSD, no one will hire me.
The plane touches down on the island and I wave off a bunch of eager cab drivers. The walk will do me good. After five miles of salty breezes and pounding ocean, I’m ready to do battle with Her Dragoness of New England, my mother-in-law.
First, I need to see if Jason found out anything more about the terrorists. I pick up my cell phone and dial my handler. “Hey, Slate, any news on the kidnappers?”
“Jason says they’re still in DC under the close scrutiny of the FBI… I thought Gray said you’re on vacation?”
“I am but I’ll check in with you soon. Let me know if you hear anything more.”
“Will do.” When he hangs up, more tension drops away. Even though the terrorists aren’t in jail, they’re not on the island, either. Finally, something I can live with.
At the top of the hill, my jaw drops. Twin-peaked, the front of the so-called beach house has six cushioned rockers on an old-fashioned porch under eight white columns. The carriage and guest houses are both bigger than the home I grew up in.
As I wander up the paverstones, a small brown man steps off his riding lawn mower and crosses the fresh cut grass.
“Can I help you?” Frowning, he crosses his tatted arms over his chest, fists clenched.
If it weren’t for the fact I’m desperate to see my wife, I’d laugh. Instead, I pull out my wallet and show him my driver’s license. “I’m Lochlan James, Calliope’s husband. Is my wife here?”
The house’s many front-facing windows show no movement within. I was hoping she’d be looking out of one of them.
The middle-aged man removes his Red Sox cap by the bill and scratches his head. “I think you should go.”
What’s his beef?I take a step forward. “I need to see her now. If someone’s hurt her…”
“She’s got two bodyguards with her so you better not try anything.”
Shit. What the fuck has her mother been telling these people?Obviously, nothing good about me.
Suddenly dizzy, I drop onto my knees. A thick mist floats up the hill covering my mates broken bodies, bloodied on the road. Heart racing, I squat to take a pulse, but they’re gone. They’ve been dead for years. My ears ring from the blast of the explosion as bullets whiz by my ear. At some level, I recognize I’m hallucinating and yet reach for my weapon. The insurgents are coming.
“Hey, you alright?” The guy shakes my shoulder, the fog fades to the edges of my peripheral vision, and I take a deep breath.
Fuck, that was a bad one.“A bit of sunstroke, that’s all. Can I get a drink of water? Is Pat inside?” The butler and I have always seen eye to eye. I can count on him to welcome me.
Cursing in Spanish under his breath, the gardener walks me to the door and rings the bell.
Finally, a familiar face.I shake Pat’s hand firmly. “Good to see ya, mate.”
He eyes me up and down like I’m a bloody piece of shit. “What took you so long? Ms. Callie isn’t eating, crying all the time. It’s not good for the baby.”
The news knocks the wind out of me.Damn it.“Can I borrow a car? Directions? I need to get to her.”
If they refuse, God help them. I need to put an end to her mother’s nasty game.
Pat shares a nod with the gardener, still standing in the doorway. “We’re not supposed to tell you where she’s at.”
A man with the grace of a warrior steps into the kitchen. When I turn, the Seal grins and shakes my hand. “Lucky, I presume?”
I nod at the young bodyguard. “Yeah. That’s me.”
