The SEAL’s Surprise Baby: Hartsville’s SEAL Heroes Book Two Read online

  “I’m glad he’s all right,” Jeff said. “Take care.”

  Violet held Nate’s hand up as if he was waving at Jeff before going into the house ahead of Anderson.

  “Spare me nosy neighbors,” Anderson commented after closing the door. “Nice cover, though.”

  “Seemed appropriate.” She dropped her shoulder bag, where she’d stuffed the intel, on the dining room table.

  As she reached into it, the doorbell rang. She froze, shooting Anderson a questioning look. He stepped to the front window and edged the drape back to see who was there.

  “It’s Kelly,” he announced in an overly pleasant voice. “Hi, Kelly.” Anderson opened the door and smiled at one of the women who had brought cinnamon rolls on their first morning in the neighborhood.

  “Hi, I don’t mean to be nosy, but did I hear you say the baby was sick?” Kelly poked her head in the door and spotted Violet.

  Violet came from the dining room with Nate on her hip. “Not sick. Just a checkup. It’s so kind of you to inquire.”

  Anderson was glad that Violet had it together. He was ready to yell at their neighbors to get off his lawn, then never open his door to anyone again. Couldn’t people mind their own damn business?

  “So glad to hear it,” Kelly said. “And I wanted to let you know that we’re having a potluck in the park on Saturday at five. We do it once a month during the summer. I hope you can come.”

  “We’d love to,” Violet said, her expression showing enthusiasm for the idea. “Anything in particular we should bring?”

  “A side dish or a dessert,” Kelly said as she reached out to tickle Nate’s bare feet. “The neighborhood association supplies burgers and hot dogs.”

  It was more information than Anderson needed or wanted. He could see good things about living in the suburbs—for most people, at least. It was a caring, family-oriented atmosphere. But, Christ, people were watching you all the time and forming judgments.

  Anderson almost missed the rough-and-tumble trailer park of his youth. There, he’d known where he stood and when to expect trouble, which was often. People might have watched what you were doing, but they didn’t feel the need to comment and interfere.

  Until things reached a boiling point. He grimaced, remembering days when even riding the school bus had its dangers. He’d destroyed more than one metal lunch box using it as a weapon. Living in that environment had kept him on his guard. Living in a place like this had made him lower his defenses. He’d gone soft, and he was pissed about it.

  And that had cost him earlier. The beautiful neighborhood where the IDs were hidden was idyllic, but danger had lurked there as it could anyplace. Trusting appearances was always a mistake. They’d almost gotten caught, and that was his fault. He couldn’t let anything dull his senses again.

  “Thanks. We’ll be there,” Violet said to Kelly as she closed the door on their company.

  Anderson waited until he saw the woman cross the street to her house. “I hate living in a fishbowl. They probably know what we eat for dinner.”

  “She was being nice. And maybe a little nosy, but there was no harm in it.” Violet handed Nate to him when the child reached out his arms.

  “That may be true, but we’re on a mission.” He settled Nate against him, something that had become second nature. “We need to act like it.” If they’d been anywhere else in the world, he’d have drawn his gun before answering the door.

  “Have I been a security threat in some way?” she challenged. “Or broken protocol?”

  “No,” he had to admit. She’d been cautious, but he was rattled by their situation.

  “We’ll get through this,” she said, relaxing. “Can you keep an eye on Nate until nap time? I want to look at this data more closely.”

  “I’ve got him.” Anderson walked into the living room with Nate and used Wiffy to contact Allen Zimmerman again. He kept his voice low, so he didn’t disturb Violet where she sat at the dining room table.

  “How’d it go?” Allen asked without bothering with a greeting. “You made it to all three locations.” Through the app on Wiffy, Rogers’s team had been able to track their movements.

  “We were unable to retrieve at the last one. We had company.” He gave Allen a description of the vehicle and the man who’d been driving it. He’d wished he’d gotten closer, but he thought the man had a scar on his left cheek. That might help identify him.

  “So you still need IDs,” Allen said, cutting to the point. “I’ll get some guys working on that and a new safe house for you. That one’s compromised.”

  “No kidding,” Anderson said, then moderated his tone. “I’m sorry. Thanks. I appreciate all your team is doing for us.”

  “Not a problem. Stay safe,” Allen said and hung up.

  “Stay safe, huh?” Anderson said to Nate, who was snuggled on his lap with his thumb in his mouth. “Like I was planning to put you in jeopardy.”

  Stay safe as a command always irritated Anderson. There were times in his life when he’d been reckless, but not since he’d been a wild kid from a dysfunctional family. As a SEAL, he’d learned that staying safe depended on his training and his faith in his teammates. Since neither of those had ever let him down, being told to stay safe was a waste of breath.

  He'd almost screwed that up today, though. So maybe the words were a good reminder of what his duty was on this mission.

  Throughout the rest of the day, Violet and Anderson traded Nate back and forth. Anderson took advantage of his kid-free time to run diagnostics on the security system and cameras. Then he spent time outside doing security checks. He had to make those trips around the perimeter of the property look as though he were doing yard work, but that was easily accomplished. He watered the shrubs in front of the house while keeping an eye on the street. He patrolled the backyard with a bottle of weed killer in his hand. No one questioned him, because he looked just like any other suburban dad.

  After his final check of the property that evening, which he disguised as drinking a beer on his back deck, he went into the house and set the security system.

  “Nate went out fast tonight,” Violet said when Anderson walked into the dining room. “I think he’s still tired from yesterday, but I’ll take it.”

  Anderson looked at the table. She’d pushed the intel aside and had a jigsaw puzzle started. He picked up the box lid to look at the image. It was an ocean scene with a stingray swimming through the center. The puzzle was almost entirely shades of blue, which would make it challenging.

  “Care to join me?” she asked, pushing out the chair next to her.

  “Sure,” he said and took the offered seat. Working on the puzzle would help keep his hands and mind engaged.

  “I’ve separated the edge pieces from the center ones.” She gestured to a small pile in front of her. “I like to put the edge together first.”

  “I didn’t know there was a method to this.” The few times in his life he’d done a puzzle, he’d just dumped the pieces on the table and had at it.

  “You bet there is,” she said, snapping together a corner. “Why don’t you flip all the other pieces over so they’re face up?”

  “Okay.” He started on the task assigned to him. “Learn anything new from the intel?”

  “Thinking about it,” she said, not looking up. “It’s got to percolate.” She’d used that expression when they were in Moscow, and he thought it a peculiar one… but letting ideas brew in her head worked for her. “I’m pretty sure we’re not any more unsafe here than elsewhere.”

  “Not sure that’s comforting,” he commented.

  She shrugged. “The truth is someone’s looking for us. We can run and hide, but it won’t last forever.”

  He nodded. “We’ll have to make a stand.” He’d been thinking throughout the day about how that might work. He didn’t want it to be there—or anywhere she and Nate might be in the crossfire.

  “I’m hoping to avoid that. Making a stand with…” She didn�
�t need to finish the sentence. Worry about Nate’s welfare had prevented any of Anderson’s plans from developing fully.

  They worked in silence for a while, both of them putting pieces into place. First, they formed the stingray. After the main image was complete, that left the more challenging ocean pieces. Anderson watched Violet’s concentration as she selected pieces from the box.

  “You don’t go by color,” he said, suddenly realizing that she was only using the shapes of the pieces to determine where they went.

  “It’s all about patterns.” She reached for another piece. “There are only so many different shapes.”

  Leave it to her to treat a jigsaw puzzle like analysis work. “So why did you have me turn the pieces right side up?” he asked.

  “That was for you. I didn’t want you to feel bad when I put in the majority of the pieces. I thought seeing the colors might help even the score.”

  “Competitive puzzle making?” He chuckled. “Never heard of it.”

  “Anything can be a competition if one has a worthy opponent.” She lifted his hand from the table and put a piece where it had been. Before dropping his hand, she gave it a squeeze.

  “I’m glad you see me as worthy.” His tone was joking, but he did like the way she perceived him.

  She looked up, her eyes warm. “You’re one of the fiercest competitors I know, but you better show some hustle or I’m going to win.”

  “Are you counting how many pieces you’ve put in?”

  “Four-oh… make that 407,” she said as she added another piece, “which means I’m closing in on half of them.”

  The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could rush to put in a few pieces, or he could use a more strategic approach, such as distraction. One definitely had more appeal than the other. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, making her laugh.

  “I know what you’re up to,” she said, but she didn’t try to move away.

  “Will it work?” He didn’t much care if it did, since he was enjoying the feel of her so close to him. Wanting to touch her in this way had come as a surprise. The attraction between them simmered undeniably, but there was a softness to their interactions now he’d never known before.

  “It might,” she conceded, her fingers curled into his shirt, “but there’s a flaw in your plan. While I’m here, you can’t put any pieces in the puzzle.”

  “Neither can you,” he pointed out.

  “Really?” She half turned in his arms and snapped a piece in with a flourish. “What do you say to that?”

  He pulled her tighter to him, taking her lips in a kiss that made him forget about the puzzle entirely. She looped her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened. He could have stayed like that forever, but eventually she leaned back.

  “Maybe we should go to bed,” she suggested in a husky voice.

  He’d love nothing better than to take her to bed, but worries about their safety stopped him from agreeing. “I think I’ll stay down here on the couch tonight.”

  Her face was instantly serious. “Why?”

  “I need to be ready if anyone tries to get in.” He’d run through what he would do to prevent a breach of the home, and he’d concluded his best line of defense was to be downstairs.

  “I think we’re safe for now,” she said, repeating her assessment from earlier.

  He shook his head. “You know as well as I do that we’re vulnerable. As you said, only constant movement would keep us safe, and we can’t do that.” Not with a baby in tow, he didn’t bother to add.

  She dropped her head onto his shoulder. “You’re probably right. I was just… hopeful.”

  “I’m not willing to risk either of you on hope.” He’d never forgive himself if something happened to her or Nate on his watch.

  She stayed with him for a few minutes more, just resting against him. And it felt… nice. Finally, she lifted her head and gave him a small smile. “No putting in puzzle pieces while I’m sleeping.”

  “I promise,” he said and stood, gently putting her on her feet. He gave her one more kiss and waited until she went upstairs before doing a last security sweep of the house. It was his duty to make sure Violet and Nate came out of this unharmed. He’d never forgive himself otherwise.

  13

  “Anderson!” Violet calling his name brought him out of a light sleep. Something wasn’t right. He checked his surroundings and heard her call for him again, her voice fainter this time. He reached for the gun he’d left on the coffee table and charged up the stairs.

  When he reached the top, he saw her sitting on the hall floor with her head tucked between her knees. Was she injured? He looked for blood, some sign that she’d been attacked.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, coming to a stop and dropping down in front of her.

  “I’m light-headed and feel awful.” She tilted her head up; her face was pale. “I can’t reach Nate. Will you get him out of bed?”

  “Of course, but first you.” He shoved the gun in his waistband so he could put an arm behind her back and one under her knees and lift her from the floor.

  “I can walk,” she murmured weakly, but her head rested against his chest.

  “I don’t think so.” He carried her into the master bedroom and set her down gently on the bed.

  “It’s probably just a virus,” she said as she dropped her head onto the pillow. “Maybe if I sleep for a while, I’ll feel better.”

  “You need to stay in this bed for the rest of the day,” he said, keeping his tone gentle.

  “Can’t do that. Moms don’t get sick days.”

  “This one does. Consider yourself off the clock,” Anderson said. He heard Nate’s babbling through the monitor. “Let me get him, and I’ll be back to check on you. Don’t move.”

  When he returned to her twenty minutes later, Violet was curled on her side, sound asleep. She looked delicate and fragile, which wasn’t her norm, and his heart hurt at the sight. Overcome by tenderness, he leaned closer to kiss her forehead. Her skin felt dry and too warm.

  He retreated from the room, thinking about what he could do to make her feel better. He was rarely sick himself, but he figured she’d need fluids and something to treat what seemed like a fever.

  “Looks like we’re going to the store, buddy,” he said to Nate. Grocery shopping with a baby seemed a daunting task, but he could do it. He made sure Nate had on a fresh diaper, grabbed the bag Violet always carried for him, and headed to the car.

  “Good morning,” Kelly called. She was powerwalking down the sidewalk.

  “Hello,” he responded as he strapped Nate in his seat.

  “Early-morning trip?” Her pace slowed.

  As much as Anderson knew that her question came from friendliness, it still made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like to reveal details about his and Violet’s lives. He had to say something, though, since it looked odd that he was leaving with the baby so early in the morning.

  “Violet’s under the weather today,” he explained. “We’re going to get some supplies.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Her face was instantly filled with concern. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, I’ve got it. Thanks,” he remembered to add. Part of him wished he could ask her to watch Nate for him, but he wasn’t about to hand his child to anyone he hadn’t run a full background check on.

  Anderson drove to the nearest store, singing loudly and off-key to keep Nate entertained. Once they arrived, he realized the boy was too small to be put in a shopping cart seat—he’d probably slide out a leg hole.

  The problem made Anderson hesitate. How did other parents do this? He looked around, but no one else had a baby at the store.

  “Going to have to figure this out,” he muttered to Nate. After a minute of debate, Anderson opted to carry him, which limited his purchases. He managed to buy Tylenol and Gatorade and hoped that combination would make Violet feel better.

  He wasn’t gone long, but wh
en he returned to the safe house, he found a small plastic container waiting on the front steps. He approached it cautiously and saw the contents were frozen. Unexpected packages were not usually good things in his world, but the attached note erased his concern.

  Homemade chicken noodle soup—good for any illness. Take care.

  He didn’t have to guess who it was from. He made sure to smile and wave in the direction of Kelly’s house, knowing that she’d be watching for his reaction to the gift.

  “I guess it’s nice to have people who care about you,” he muttered as he got Nate, his purchases, and the soup through the front door. He put Nate in the playpen and dashed up the stairs to check on Violet. He was glad to see she was still asleep. Since he might have his hands full with Nate when she woke, he left a bottle of Gatorade and some pills on the nightstand for her.

  When he went back down, Nate had fallen asleep in the playpen. Now what? Anderson put his hands on his hips and looked around. He was out of tasks, and there was nothing he could do to ease their situation. He couldn’t hunt down the bad guy, he couldn’t patch the data breach, and no one needed him at the moment.

  There must be something. He checked the encrypted phone. No messages, which meant nothing had changed. Next, he looked at his personal phone. He had a missed call from Patrick, which must have come in while he was at the store.

  It would be good to talk to someone on the outside, get a different perspective. Anderson was feeling a little lost. Like he wasn’t as in control as he should be—a sensation he hated. Violet’s illness was part of that, but everything about their predicament had him feeling more apprehensive than usual.

  Since he didn’t trust his own phone, he dialed Patrick’s number on Wiffy and was glad when his longtime friend picked up.

  “Hey, man, good to hear from you,” Patrick said. “How’s it going?”

  Anderson brought him up to speed on what had happened since he and Violet arrived at the safe house. He stuck to the facts, skipping over anything personal.

  “What’s really got you so worried?” Patrick asked after listening in near silence.