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Second Chance SEAL(157)

By:B. B. Hamel


“As a matter of fact, there was,” she said, sounding annoyed. “A big white van. If they were your friends, tell them they’re not welcome to park out front of my house.”

I repressed a smile, keeping a serious face. You had to hand it to the elderly; they were cranky and curious, which meant they were great for spotting out people and things that didn’t belong.

“Can you tell me anything about them?”

“Just saw one boy driving. Looked like an Indian fella. He just sat in the car. Then I heard the doors open and shut, and then they drove off.”

“Did you see how many there were?”

“No, I didn’t. Are you done?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m done. Thanks for your help.”

“Have a great day.” She slammed the door in my face.

I grinned to myself as I headed back to Tara’s house.

Although I hadn’t caught them, I had learned a few important things. First, I was reasonably sure that Omar wasn’t working alone. It was my guess that Omar was the one the old lady had spotted behind the wheel. Omar would stand out too much in a white, middle-class neighborhood like this one, especially in a place like Indiana. There probably were only a few thousand Indians in all of Indiana, and people tended to take notice of people who looked unfamiliar.

Which meant that the three separate boot tracks leading up to and away from Tara’s house were likely Omar’s accomplices’. I couldn’t be sure that Omar only had three people working with him, but he’d definitely brought three this morning.

Finally, I knew he was being careful. He knew I was around, which meant he couldn’t risk any more obvious and direct actions. Dropping a picture off at the front door and then running away was probably the extent of his confidence.

Still, this situation was getting worse. Omar was definitely working with a local cell, probably local people who could blend in pretty easily.

This whole thing felt strange as I made my way back toward Tara’s house. Why was Omar coming after me through this girl? He knew who I was and where I lived. I understood that he likely didn’t want to risk coming at me directly, since I wouldn’t be such an easy target. He wanted to go after the girl, since right now she was my biggest weakness.

But why get an entire local cell involved? He was taking an enormous risk just to get some revenge. Sure, I’d killed plenty of his comrades back in Pakistan, but he was a smart man. He knew that he was more valuable to the cause alive, and coming after me was begging to get killed.

Plus, he was risking local American jihadists, which weren’t exactly common. Every natural-born American who was turned toward jihad was an enormous success for The Network, and although there were many of them out there, there weren’t enough that they could risk any of them getting captured, killed, or identified.

It all just felt so strange to me. I leaned up against Tara’s garage, hands in my pockets, running through the situation in my mind.

But I just kept coming back to Tara and Mason. They were the key to all this, or at least they were the key to me right now. Although I barely knew Tara, and barely knew my son, I was quickly finding that I would do anything to keep the both of them safe. Just because I didn’t know about Mason didn’t mean I could simply walk away from my fucking responsibility.

I knew what it was like to grow up without a father. I didn’t wish that fucking shit on anyone, and I wouldn’t let that happen if I could avoid it.

Worse than that though was the way I felt around Tara herself. Fucking stupid, was how I felt. Stupid, and my cock was constantly rock hard, just begging to fuck that incredible pussy again and again.

I shook my head, getting my shit together. I couldn’t fantasize about her, not when the risks were so high. Even though I could easily take out Omar’s entire cell, I realized that I was going to need backup. I was just too distracted by Tara and Mason, too interested in getting to know them, and in getting a taste of Tara’s tight pussy again.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. It rang and rang but didn’t go to voicemail.

“Come on,” I grumbled, not surprised that he wasn’t picking up.

Finally, the line clicked to life. “What?” he groaned. “What do you want?”

“Morning, Travis,” I said.

There was a short silence. “Hey, cap,” he said. “Didn’t know it was you.”

“Since when did you disconnect your answering machine?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe a few days ago. Time blurs together when you’re not out saving the country, you know?”

“Yeah, soldier, it sure as fuck does.”