Wanted (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 8) (8 page)

Clay had a sudden flash of her standing before him with a very swollen belly and he did another mental freak out, even while the most primitive part of him was in full protective mode. His woman needed him, and he wouldn’t let her down. His sensitivity chip was smaller than a lot of guys’, but at least since Zoe it was functioning again. Man, this still felt surreal though. He’d always thought he’d be the last guy on the team to become a father.

“Yeah.” He even managed to put on a comforting smile.

When the bathroom door closed behind her and he was sure she couldn’t see him, he leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands with a low groan. It had been a hell of a week so far. Of all the things that could have happened to him right now, this one hadn’t even been on his radar. And to find out Zoe still felt insecure about his love and intentions made him feel like shit.

In SEAL training the famous saying went, ”
The only easy day was yesterday
”.

Those six words had never rung more true for him than they did right now. As of yesterday morning his entire world had shifted on its axis and there was nothing he could do now but man up and slay his inner demons. Zoe and their baby needed him.

Ready or not, personal baggage about having kids or not…

In eight months’ time, he and Zoe were going to be parents.

****

Zoe emerged from the bathroom a while later, wrapped in her favorite red satin robe, and found Clay fixing himself a sandwich in the kitchen. The overhead lights gleamed on his short, dark hair and outlined the muscular width of his shoulders and upper back that stretched the fabric of his black T-shirt.

He glanced back at her, gave her a small smile but she read him well and could see the tension in his back and shoulders.

She’d hurt him, this proud, strong man, even though she hadn’t meant to. Knowing that sliced her up inside.

Stepping up behind him, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed herself to his broad back. His muscles were taut. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” When he didn’t respond right away she continued. “Do you forgive me?”

He stayed still for a second, then set down the bread and knife and turned to face her. Setting a finger beneath her chin, he tipped her face up and looked into her eyes, the intensity of his gaze making her heart pound. “Yes, I forgive you. Know why? Because I love you. You mean
everything
to me. Everything, Zo, and…dammit, I thought you knew it.” He shook his head once, his gaze full of frustration. He ran a hand through his hair. “I swore I’d let it go and not say anything else, but the truth is, I can’t stand knowing you’d ever doubt me having your back.”

She swallowed around the sudden constriction in her throat. She knew he struggled with expressing his emotions verbally. It made his words a hundred times more powerful.

“You’re right,” she said softly, “and I shouldn’t have needed the reminder. I love you to death, I’ll always have your back too, and I would never hurt you for the world.”

Needing to kiss him, to soothe and heal the damage she’d done, she lifted up on tiptoe to press her lips to his. A rush of relief hit her when his muscles relaxed and he cupped the back of her head to deepen the kiss. A slow, firm possession.

When he raised his head a moment later, there was no hint of frustration left in his eyes and she knew he’d truly forgiven her. She also vowed never to make the mistake of doubting him again. “Glad that’s done with.”

His lips twitched. “Me too.” That vivid blue gaze delved into hers. “But why do I still get the feeling something else is bothering you that you’re not telling me about?”

Surprise flashed through her at his perception. Maybe it was his years of honing his observation skills in the SEAL Teams, or maybe it was because he’d had to be vigilant to protect himself from Eve, but he saw everything, even when she tried to hide it.

“What? No,” she lied, unwilling to talk about marriage right now.

Things were too raw between them just yet; she wasn’t going to risk pushing him away. And she needed a chance to adjust to being pregnant first. Maybe she was hurt and confused about not knowing his intentions as far as getting married were concerned, but if Clay proposed now she’d never know if it was only because of the baby. Before she had that conversation with him, she needed to emotionally regroup.

Clay gave her a look that said he knew she was lying, but thankfully let it go. “Okay.” He released her and went back to making his sandwich, but it felt like a dismissal. “How’s the book coming along? Get any work done today?”

“Not really.” Maybe now that the worst of her anxiety had been soothed, she could find the words again. “Did you get the bachelor party stuff started?”

He laid the butter knife aside. “Yeah, everything’s pretty much done.”

“Guess I’d better get cracking on the bridal shower then.”

Ensconced on the couch while Clay finished making his dinner, she grabbed her laptop and opened her contacts to send out a group e-mail to the girls. She glanced at the new messages that popped into her inbox, and her blood froze when she saw another message from her stalker, sent from yet another address.

For a second she debated ignoring it but knew it would eat at her until she read the thing.

Taking a steadying breath, she steeled herself and opened it. A picture of an hourglass appeared, most of the sand already in the bottom glass, a thin trickle spilling from the scant amount in the upper bulb.

Time’s almost out, Zoe. Are you scared? You should be. I’m coming for you.

She blanched and set a protective hand over her abdomen.
Nobody
was threatening her unborn child. “Clay,” she said.

He was at her side in three seconds, taking the laptop from her. When he saw the message his expression turned black. “That motherfucker.”

He set the computer down and pulled out his phone, called someone. Within a few moments of the conversation starting, she knew it had to be Rycroft. Clay relayed the message and forwarded it to him. “Got it,” he answered a few moments later, then hung up, his gaze full of frustration. “Rycroft’s got his people looking at it.”

“Good,” she sighed.

Clay knelt in front of her, put a hand on her nape, concern in his eyes. “You okay?” he murmured, his touch and worry for her a balm to her rattled nerves.

She nodded. Fuck this shit. “I just want that asshole caught.”

“Me too.” Clay hugged her tight. The moment his powerful arms closed around her, the residual unease she’d been carrying subsided. He made her feel completely safe, and she wished to God she’d never doubted him the way she had. “I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

“Yes.”

Leaning back, he gazed into her eyes, his expression fierce. “I told you once that I’d never let you down again. And I won’t. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Zoe bit her lip, her heart squeezing. She loved this man so much it hurt. “I know you won’t.”

He nodded once in satisfaction. “Good.”

Cradling the side of his face with one hand, she pressed a tender kiss to his lips then pulled away and gave him a smile. “It’s late, but I’d better text the girls about the shower before I get too distracted.”

She got up and strode to the kitchen island to get her cell phone, refusing to let that freaking sick psycho mess with her already over-stressed mind tonight. It was so frustrating, that the FBI and NSA had yet to be able to catch the guy.

Whoever he was, he knew what he was doing, knew how to evade detection. At least thus far.

God, it felt like everything in her life was outside of her control right now, and she hated it. While Clay stood beside her at the island eating his sandwich, she began scrolling through her team contacts. Time to take control of something, no matter how small.

Clay packed the last of his gear into his locker and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. God, he was wiped. He’d barely slept since finding out about the baby the other day and it was catching up with him fast. Back in his Navy days he’d routinely gone two or three days without sleep, but his body wasn’t twenty-five anymore.

“Zoe keeping you up past your bedtime?”

Clay looked over his shoulder at a smirking Schroder, the team’s newest member and the best combat medic he’d ever worked with. Since the guy was a former Air Force PJ, that wasn’t surprising. “Something like that, yeah.”

Schroder grinned and slapped him on the back. “Atta boy. Glad to hear it. Taya’s been keeping me up late a lot since we got back too.” After waggling his eyebrows he stowed his own gear in a locker four down from Clay’s. “So, we still on for tonight?”

“Yep. Nineteen hundred hours out at the farm.” One of DeLuca’s friends had given them permission to use his sixty acres of farmland for the night for the “bachelor party”. Clay had set up the fire pit and taken a couple barbecues out there last night before Zoe had called, put up the targets and barricades for the night-vision paintball game he’d planned. “I’ve still gotta pick up the food and the beer. You want a ride out there? I’m driving Tuck—promised Zoe and Celida I’d get the groom-to-be there and back safely. Maybe Evers, too.”

“Sure, that’d be great.” He swung his head around to look at Vance, whose right arm was still wrapped up tight against his chest, his dark skin a stark contrast to the white bandages. Though he was in great shape and the second biggest guy on the team, next to Clay, Vance was only human. And this line of work was hell on their bodies. “You’re coming tonight too, right?”

“Yeah, but Carm and I fly out first thing tomorrow so I can’t stay that long. I’ll catch a ride with Cruzie.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up around six,” Clay said to Schroder. He grabbed his keys and headed out of the team room into the hallway. DeLuca flagged him down.

“Hey. Got a minute?” his commander asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Clay followed him into his office.

DeLuca nodded at the chair opposite his desk, his green gaze sharp. “Have a seat.”

Frowning, he lowered himself into the chair, had just opened his mouth to ask what was up when Tuck appeared in the doorway. His buddy shut the door behind him and walked over to sit on the edge of DeLuca’s desk, both of them staring at Clay.

“What’s going on?” Clay demanded.

DeLuca folded his arms over his chest. “We were wondering the same thing.”

“I don’t follow.”

Tuck gave him a
get real
look. “It’s obvious to everybody here that you haven’t been yourself the past couple days, since we got back from Alaska. You’ve been distracted. And antisocial, even for you.”

Clay felt himself flush. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Since he’d cleared the air with Zoe last night he felt way better, although his gut was nagging at him that something was still unresolved. But he wasn’t so deep into his head about it that he couldn’t concentrate on an op.

“So it’s not the Alaska op? It’s personal, then?” DeLuca asked.

“Yes.” Very. And he didn’t feel like talking about it.

“But you’re okay?” Tuck pressed.

There’d been a lot to deal with over the past week. The cruise ship op, the online threat to Zoe’s security, and now the baby. It was still sinking in, the idea of him being a dad soon. He wasn’t scared of it now, more just battling his personal demons about not being a good enough dad.

“Yeah.” He understood and even appreciated why Tuck and DeLuca were checking up on him though. It was their job to ensure every guy on the team had his head where it needed to be, not distracted on a mission or in training. Because distracted operators got people killed. “I’m good guys, but thanks.”

“Has it got anything to do with the situation with Zoe’s stalker?” DeLuca asked.

“That’s…part of it,” he conceded.

He was angry and increasingly worried about the entire situation, and he felt weird about leaving her alone right now, but that wasn’t all of it. It was eating him up inside that she was still keeping something from him, and he wished he could talk to someone other than Zoe about the baby. These were guys he trusted with his life. He knew Zoe had already told Celida last night, so he figured she wouldn’t be mad if he told Tuck and DeLuca. But in all honestly he just didn’t think they would be able to relate.

“Any word on who it is yet?” Tuck asked.

“No, not yet. She got another message last night that scared her pretty bad, even though she’s fronting like it didn’t.” His woman was strong, one of the things he admired most about her, but he knew she was rattled. And after almost losing her when she’d been held hostage last September, his protective instincts were on red alert right now, even more this time because she was pregnant.

“I passed it on to Rycroft,” he continued. “He’s bumped it up in terms of priority, said he’d let me know personally once they have anything. Whoever it is seems to be skilled with IT stuff. He keeps using bogus e-mail accounts, they haven’t been able to track where the messages originate from because the trail keeps bouncing around and then they lose it.”

That worried the hell out of him. The freaking NSA couldn’t nail this sonofabitch? Not good. “This guy is careful to cover his tracks. They keep hitting dead ends everywhere they look. They’re checking into the possibility it’s connected to what happened in New Orleans.” He prayed it didn’t, but his instincts said otherwise. And his instincts were rarely wrong.

DeLuca nodded. “That’s good. Anything we can do?”

“No, but thanks.” Damn, he really wanted to tell them the rest of it. It would explain why he hadn’t been himself the past couple days. These guys were the closest things he had to brothers.

Both men were quiet, Tuck’s expression and demeanor almost identical to DeLuca’s. It was kind of spooky, actually. Tuck was the logical replacement choice for DeLuca if and when their commander stepped aside, and Tuck would fit that role perfectly.

Tuck started to slide off the edge of the desk. “All right. If you decide you want to talk about anything, let me—”

“Zoe’s pregnant,” he blurted.