Navy SEAL Surrender (2 page)

“I got here as soon as I could. I had no idea,” John apologized. He would not complain about the lack of information provided by his brother. It would just upset his dad.

“That’s an understatement,” Brian mumbled.

His dad shook his head. Upset. Brian patted his shoulder. “I know, Dad. I told you I’d explain things when he got here.”

He kept his mouth shut, stunned at the fright he saw in his father’s eyes. The stroke had left him paralyzed. He couldn’t talk. Brian lifted a straw to the left side of his dad’s mouth and patiently waited, that angry gleam still in his eyes when he connected with John.

“Dad had a stroke and was lucky to survive. Recovery’s going to take a while, but he’s doing great.” He put the mug on the table. “Looks like Alicia wore you out as usual, old man. Time for a nap, right?”

Brian moved swiftly. John moved in to help but was waved off. In two shakes, J. W. Sloane was back in bed. Brian maneuvered him quickly and with the same calm ease he handled troubled animals.

“I got this. Go get cleaned up and I’ll get him settled. I’m sure you have things to explain.”

Things hadn’t changed; his brother issued orders for him to follow. And just like every day of his life, he followed orders well. Stowing his gear back in a room that hadn’t changed except for the layers of dust, he wondered if the day would ever come where he’d be deciding his
own
fate.

Chapter Two

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Mommy! Mommy! Look, I’m a princess.”

Alicia Ann Adams watched her four-year-old daughter run across the playroom, dodging toys and playmates. Her yellow sunflower dress had a purple stain on the front—most likely grape jam from a snack. She lifted her over the gate guard in her day-care room to squeeze her close. “What did you do today?”

“We painted and dressed up. I was a princess and gots to wear the crown all the time.”

“Well, that was appropriate for my very own Princess Lauren. Did you put your toys away?”

“The other girls are still playing with everything, Alicia. Don’t worry about it this time.”

She put Lauren down, dreading the next part of the conversation. “Go pick up a bit, sweetie. I need to talk with Miss Mary.”

“Is something wrong?” asked the woman responsible for her daughter’s daily care.

Mary Fitz had owned and run the day care forever. Alicia had stayed here before starting kindergarten, and had worked here in high school. There was nowhere else she wanted her daughter to stay. Which made not being able to pay Mary all the more difficult.

“I’m afraid tomorrow’s our last day. It isn’t fair to ask you to let Lauren stay when I can’t pay you, Mary.” What was she going to do? She couldn’t take Lauren with her to her clients’ homes, and she had to work.

“Nonsense. I’ve told you before just pay me when you can. I trust you. I know what you’re going through. Working on your own to spend more time with your daughter is admirable, dear. Starting this place wasn’t easy, either. Everyone thought I was a crazy widow. So don’t fret. She’s safe here.” Mary turned back to the children. “Lauren, time to go, sweetheart.”

Alicia was going to cry. She hadn’t been able to think of Dwayne without all the problems he’d left when he’d died four years ago. Leaving her with a newborn and without a will had created chaos in a once-happy life. Those thoughts seemed utterly ridiculous compared to his death. Nevertheless, they were true.

The tears were building, so she pressed the palms of her hands to her closed eyes, attempting to stop the waterworks. Mary had saved her life. Again.

“It won’t be too long. I have to drive a bit farther, but there are two more patients in Sanger.”

“It’s really not a problem, Alicia. I’m glad to help.” She lifted Lauren over the doorway gate. “She had so much fun playing princess today. Such an imagination. Keep the crown, sweetie.”

“Say bye-bye to Miss Mary.” They both waved to one of the nicest people left in their lives. “See you tomorrow.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t branching out on her own willingly like Mary thought. She’d been forced to resign from the Denton hospital.

After years with a spotless record, her patients’ exit questionnaires were suddenly full of mysterious complaints. Complaints that had all begun at the same time Dwayne’s trust fund was frozen and her mother-in-law sought control.

Coincidence?

And then an anonymous caller said they’d witnessed her selling drugs.
Anonymous? Not hardly. It has to be Shauna.

She’d never believed anyone could be that cruel. Especially family. She didn’t
want
to believe Shauna, her mother-in-law, was responsible for the loss of her job at Denton Regional. But if she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have known about Alicia’s dismissal and wouldn’t have filed for custody of Lauren the same day.

Ugh. I certainly wish I wasn’t forced to refer to her as my mother-in-law.

Dwayne had never called Shauna Weber his stepmother. She was the same age and had even gone on a couple of dates with him their junior year. She’d married a man two years younger only four months after Dwayne’s father had died.

Think about the extra time you have with Lauren today.

With only a couple of home clients on her Monday schedule, she should be rejoicing about the light load and playing with her daughter. But a light load meant light money. Next on her list was to speak with her landlord. He’d be upset splitting the rent again, but her paychecks just weren’t large enough for her to get a couple of weeks ahead.

A real shame they couldn’t head straight to the park, but it was 107 degrees outside. Almost as hot in the car, even with the AC on high. Store first, then dinner, then a cooler playtime on the swings before her bath.

It was hard to enjoy anything. She was still shaking. Money—or the lack of it—always got her this way. Then throw in what happened with Johnny and she was a nervous wreck.

How in the world had she ever thought she could welcome him home? She could still feel the sting of that slap on her hands. Feel the strength in his arms around her waist. Feel the tingle down her spine from kissing him.

She glanced in the rearview mirror to watch Lauren playing in her car seat.

It had been a major mistake kissing him. Really kissing him. Add a shot of guilt and disloyalty to her deceased husband, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. If Johnny didn’t know how she felt about his return before—he did now. Well, there was always the possibility he might be as thickheaded as when he’d left. Was he the only thing she could think about?

“Great. Just great. I was not supposed to kiss him. Ugh.”

“Like a princess kisses a frog, Mommy?”

“Just like that, sweetie. Mommy did kiss a frog today, but he didn’t turn into a prince. What do you want for dinner?”
Think about the park. And ice cream. Real ice cream from the Creamery. That would be nice. Getting cool. Don’t think about the money or Johnny Sloane.

“Chicken nuggets.”

“You want those every night.” She laughed at the nightly conversation.

It was definitely hard not to think about how great her high school boyfriend had looked. And felt. He’d been a solid rock under her hands. Why it seemed he was taller than Brian, she didn’t understand, but it did. Not once, for as long as she’d known the Sloane brothers, had she been attracted to Brian. They’d never been able to fool her like they had so many of their teachers and friends.

Nope, she could always tell them apart.

She liked how John’s hair was short over his ears, but not cropped completely down to the skin like it had been the last time she’d seen him. He looked fantastic. Strong. Sturdy. Like a man. She’d been thinking about him all day and had to stop.

It was Lauren time.

“I like nuggets. McDonald’s nuggets.” Her daughter giggled again.

Probably the dinner menu on those rare visits alone with a babysitter—without her mother-in-law’s supervision. She turned into the store parking lot.

“How ’bout chicken nuggets from scratch? We have lots of time today, but first a stop at the store.”

It didn’t take long to get down the street to the grocery. She parked by the far basket return, always protecting her father’s Camaro from dings and scratches. “Looks like you’ll get to ride in your favorite play shopping cart. There aren’t too many people here.”

“Can we get real chocolate milk?”

“We have the stuff at home to mix it up.”

“But Grandpa Weber’s gots real chocolate milk straight from the cows,” her daughter whined, sounding just like Shauna. How was that possible at the age of four? And she wasn’t even blood related.

“Honey, it doesn’t come that way.” She was forever correcting the things Shauna’s husband, Patrick, assured Lauren were true.

Alicia went to the passenger side to get Lauren. Cool-looking cars were absolutely not family cars. She pulled down the front seat and removed the shoulder restraints from Lauren, who waved to someone passing by.

“Hi,” Lauren said.

Shoved just as she’d lifted Lauren, they both fell into the car. Her feet were kicked from under her. She couldn’t stand.

“Somebody help!”

Thick material was yanked over her head, smelling like a burlap feed sack. She couldn’t see. The pressure in her back grew sharp, like a knee. It moved to her neck. Someone forced her face into the hot leather. Lauren screamed behind her, kicking her side as she was dragged from the car.

They were taking her baby!

“Stop hurting my mommy,” Lauren screamed.

“What do you want?”

Pushing. Shaking. Choking her from behind. She couldn’t move.
Dear Lord in heaven, please send someone to help me.

“Mommy!”

“Shh,” a deep voice said.

Lauren continued a muffled scream.

“Please don’t...don’t hurt her. It’ll be okay, baby.”

“Shut up,” a second gravelly voice whispered close to her ear. Her hands were quickly taped behind her.

“Don’t do this. Please,” she pleaded.

Shoved into the back floorboard, her boots removed, her ankles taped. She heard the lock being pushed down. The door slammed. The windows had been up. The keys were in her pocket. It was a scorching triple-digit day outside, but she was not going to die!

They’d kidnapped her little girl.

She felt the adrenaline rush through her body, but still couldn’t tear the tape from her hands. She closed her eyes from the grain dust and shifted closer to the window. Then kicked and kicked some more. But the bastards had pulled off her boots and left her with only socks. Her heels couldn’t touch the glass, just her toes. It was doubtful she could break the glass, but someone would hear the pounding.

Someone would see her. They’d call the police. They could break the window and get her out. Something. Something fast so they’d find Lauren.

Who could do this? She’d never give up until she found her daughter.

Sweat beaded over her face, making it itch. It was hard to breathe without inhaling the feed dust left in the sack. She choked, coughed, gagged. All the while twisting and using the carpet to slowly work the suffocating material from the bottom part of her face.

Kick. Keep kicking.

Don’t stop.

“Don’t. Give. Up. On me. Baby!”

Kick.

“Help! Can anybody hear me?”

Try to sit up.
Impossible. She couldn’t twist enough and was hooked to something. “The seat belt.” They’d taped her hands to the front seat-belt strap.

Kick.

“Help.” The dry, hoarse whisper was all she had left.

The tears wanted to come. They started. But it was so hot in the car she could barely catch her breath.
No tears.

Kick.

Kick again.

A customer will bring their cart to the return.
Someone would hear her. She just had to keep kicking. Someone would wonder why her dad’s car was here. Wouldn’t they?

Kick.
God, let me kick.

Lauren....

Chapter Three

“No witnesses. No physical evidence. No ransom demand. The Amber Alert is still active. But it’s been thirty-two hours since the kidnapping, and we’ve got nothing, Alicia.”

County Sheriff Coleman had escorted her home from the hospital after recovering from heat stroke. Thank heavens someone had seen her through the window after she’d passed out. The excessive heat inside the car could have killed her. She’d hated to call the county sheriff to bring her home, but the press had made it impossible for her to leave unescorted, and the Aubrey police had refused to help.

Now he stood in her humble living/dining room like he had a dozen times in the past four years. Same humble sheriff, just a different house than when he’d notified her Dwayne had died at the scene of his car accident.

“I don’t understand. We both know the only person who could be behind this is Shauna. She’s publicly threatened to take Lauren from me.” Her husband’s stepmother had put on a good distraught act for the television cameras, but Alicia knew the truth.

Knew the Webers wanted her little girl’s trust fund. Knew in her heart they were involved with the abduction. The gleam of dollar signs in their eyes proved it to her over and over again.

“Why can’t anyone see past the fake tears she has only when the press is around?” There was something else just behind Shauna’s heavy-lidded eyes. Gloating. The same look she’d had when they’d successfully frozen all of Dwayne’s assets.

“Lauren isn’t at the ranch or the Frisco house, where Shauna lives now. We’ve checked. We’ve followed Weber. We’ve searched every property remotely associated with either of them.” The sheriff shook his head as he had each time he’d told her the same results while she’d been in the hospital.

“What about the FBI? Did you contact the Texas Rangers like you said? Or are you telling me to give up?” She wouldn’t.

“I’m telling you I won’t stop looking, but there’s little I can do. The rangers are on watch and are conducting the investigation. They feel like this is a domestic dispute and haven’t called in the FBI yet.”

“Did Shauna stop them? Does everyone believe her and the lies she’s telling the press? I did
not
kidnap my daughter for her trust fund.” Vultures.

He hung his head, letting her assume it was true.

“It might be time for a private investigator,” he said.

“I checked into them yesterday from the hospital. They all want a lot more money than I have access to. And they want it up front before they’ll even begin.” She went to the window to see if any cameras were still parked out front. None. “Shauna says she’s hiring her own and swears if they find her, she’ll take her away. Isn’t that grounds for a search warrant or something? You’ve searched here based on the accusations of the press.”

“Now, Alicia, that’s not why the task force looked around and you know it. Shauna invited us to search all the property without a warrant.”

“You know that in the media, I’ve already been found guilty of kidnapping my own daughter, but I’m not sure how I did it. I think of all the times I judged those mothers being crucified by the news stations. You never hear about them being found innocent. But I’ll take the blame, Sheriff. I’ll let them call me whatever they want to get Lauren home safely.”

If she wasn’t so tired, she’d pace the carpet. Sitting and waiting was driving her crazy. Too exhausted to stand any longer, she fell into the chair and couldn’t stop the tears.

Lauren was gone and there was no one to find her. The light pat on her back reminded her that the sheriff was politely waiting.

“Alicia, you know that wasn’t me. I don’t think you’re using Lauren for publicity.”

“I don’t know what to do, Ralph.” She needed to pull herself together one more time so he could leave. “Sorry I had to call you again, but I couldn’t get out of the hospital door with those vultures wanting a statement.”

The press had hounded her, comparing her to a desperate, unstable woman. Implying she’d kidnapped her own little girl for the ransom. The local newspaper had made the first insinuations in their weekly editorial. Reporting that she was broke, unable to pay her bills because she was in the process of suing her sweet mother-in-law for Lauren’s trust fund.

“It’s all so stupid crazy, Ralph. If anyone is hungry for cash, it’s Shauna. Everyone knows she married Dwayne’s dad for the money. Goodness, she was the same age as her stepson. She hated me in high school and especially hated me after I married Dwayne. Even more after Roy left everything in a trust to Lauren.”

Another slow, awkward pat.

Pull it together.

“You should go. I’m fine. Really,” she finally managed.

“Lock the doors, Alicia. I don’t think it’s safe.”

She nodded, but if the kidnappers had wanted to kill her, it would have been much easier when they’d taken her baby. As it was, they were successfully framing her for their actions.

“I mean it, girl. They may be back to finish what they started. You could have died from being locked in that car.”

“I’m fine.” She feared her own neighbors more. That people she’d known all her life might take a mob mentality and throw bricks through her windows. Hadn’t that happened to a mother of another kidnapped little girl?

“As long as you stay inside, you’ll be fine.” He patted her shoulder again, following with a little squeeze before heading to the door. “Lauren will be fine, too. We’ll find her. I promise you that.”

“Without any idea where she’s been taken? Who’s really looking?”

He dipped his head again, raised his hat to his head and stood on the outside of the screen, tapping the doorknob.

Alone. No one to hold on to.

Alicia dropped her face into her hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Find someone without connections to the Webers,” he said through the glass, still waiting and pointing until she locked the door.

The silence was deafening after his car pulled away. How many nights over the past three and a half years had she begged for a moment alone? With no responsibility? Each moment spent away from Lauren, she’d been working doubles at the hospital. And now? Just one sweet giggle asking for another drink of water. That was all she wanted to hear.

She wiped more tears and stood straight. What she needed was money. Shauna had Lauren hidden somewhere. She watched the sheriff drive away and turned the dead bolt. Money would help her find her daughter.

She had to break her promise and sell her dad’s Camaro. There was one person who might want it just as badly as she did.

Johnny.

* * *

“Y
OU
CAN
’
T
AVOID
this foreve
r. I’ve already given him his meds. Next round is written on the schedule. He needs his exercises after lunch.” Brian grabbed his gym bag off the back porch and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”

“Where are you headed?” John asked, letting the screen slam behind him. He wanted Brian to answer the question instead of ignoring him like he had since he’d returned. Other than instructions about their dad, Brian hadn’t said anything excep
t “pass the butter,” at breakfast. John’s brother worked from sunup till past midnight
every day, breaking only for meals and to take care of their dad.

And now he was taking off to go to “work” for four days?

“All you need to know is written down. Since Alicia can’t be here, call Mabel if you need something.”

“Shouldn’t we hire another nurse or a proper physical therapist?” His brother’s announcement last night that it was John’s turn to take care of their dad had thrown him for a loop. He had no training for this sort of duty.

Helping his father—other than in and out of the wheelchair—wasn’t like facing down the enemy. But for some reason making a mistake scared him to death.

“I won’t do that to Alicia. And neither will you.” Brian shook his head, adding to the disgust already plain on his face. “Truth is, we can’t afford it. Dad doesn’t have insurance. Alicia’s been coming by without payment until I get some cash. She insisted. I’ll pay her eventually, but I have to sell one of the mares. I’ve been having problems, since she’s in Dad’s name.”

“I can pay. How much do you need?”

“Keep your money.”

“It’s for Dad,” John said, stopping before he spouted what he really thought about his brother’s pride.

Things were a lot worse than John had imagined, but even then, his brother’s loyalty to Alicia wasn’t a battle he was willing to wage.
Stick to Brian’s plan and negotiate peace when the time is right.

“Four days. Then we’ll suffer through a discussion,” Brian grudgingly mumbled.

The ranch and his dad were a different story. Brian couldn’t keep him from looking at the financials while he was gone to “work.”

“I’m not sure of what to do with Dad.”

“There’s a list of exercises on the stand next to his bed. It will give you a chance to talk to him without me around. You can complain all you want.” Brian shoved his hair off his face and pulled an old beat-up straw hat onto his head. “Mabel said she’s glad to help with Dad and is five minutes across the road.”

“I remember where Mrs. Standridge lives. Why are you wearing Dad’s hat?” His brother shot him a look and stuffed the hat harder on his head. “You could drive the rental to wherever you’re headed. I don’t have to return it for another couple of days.”

“Now, why would I want to do that?” He tossed his gym bag into the front of the truck and climbed in. “Don’t call her unless you really need to impose.”

“Don’t impose. Right,” John mumbled to a trail of dust mixed with gas fumes. “Four days without a freaking clue. Is that a reason to impose?”

Talking to his brother was more difficult than facing a terrorist. Brian was right about one thing—speaking to his dad had always been easy. But that was a long time ago, before two-minute conversations or voice-mail tag had become their routine. Long before his dad had such a hard, frustrating time just communicating that he wanted a sip of water. Maybe he could talk about some of his war stories? His dad might enjoy those.

But storytelling would have to wait until he’d checked forty sets of hooves. Made certain the rest of the herd was moved to the front pasture—what was left of it—and had plenty of water. Checked the fence line, which meant saddling an unfamiliar horse and riding for the first time in twelve years. In between the three-page to-do list, he was supposed to check on his father every half hour.

How had Brian kept up with the work four hired men had accomplished while they’d been growing up? And why had he left with only a small bag for four days?

Well, if Brian could do it, he could do it. He
wanted
to do it. If he could handle hotheaded naval aviators, he could handle some chores he’d done most of his childhood.

Piece of cake.