Second Chance SEAL(167)

“Come on,” I said, and led him into the nursery. “Ready for this?”

“I’m always ready,” he said.

I felt him standing so close to me as I put Mason down on the changing table.

“First, you remove the clothes, like this. See? Easy. Slides right off.”

“He’s squirming a lot.”

“Babies like to move around. We don’t exactly sit still either, you know. Next, the diaper comes off.”

“I’ve seen some gross things in my day, and this is definitely up there.”

“Yeah. It’s not pleasant. Okay, can you put it in that little thing over there?”

He nodded and put the diaper into the disposal unit.

“Okay, now we wipe. Easy. Cleans right up.”

“He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“He’d probably prefer a clean butt to a dirty one. Right, Mason?”

Emory stood behind me as I finished wiping Mason off and then took the dirty wipe and threw it out. I finally finished by putting a fresh diaper back on Mason.

“There we go. All changed. And now we wash our hands.” I put Mason into the crib and then we both went into the bathroom.

I was very, very surprised that Emory had actually stood there and seemed to be paying attention. I’d mainly expected him to make sexual jokes the whole time, but instead he looked like he wanted to actually learn how it was done.

I didn’t know what that meant. Maybe he planned on changing diapers, or maybe he just realized that if we were going to spend a lot of time together until this whole terrorist thing was resolved, then maybe he should learn.

“You know,” he said as I cleaned my hands, “there’s nothing sexier than a woman changing an infant.”

I couldn’t help but smile. It hadn’t taken him long to revert back to the jokes. “Oh really?”

“Really,” he said, standing close behind me. “Watching you work got me fucking hard.”

“I’m sure it’s not difficult to get you hard.”

“For you it’s not. All I need to do is think about that delicious, tight fucking pussy and I’m ready to go.”

I finished washing and dried my hands, and then Emory stepped in.

“Maybe we should talk about last night,” I said.

“Unless you want to tell me how dripping wet your cunt is thinking about it, I’d rather not.”

I frowned. “I don’t know, Emory.”

Suddenly he stood up straight, his eyes narrowed. “Did you hear that?”

“No?” I cocked my head, listening, but the only thing I heard was the sound of the faucet running.

“Get into the nursery,” he said, suddenly all business.

“Uh, what’s wrong?”

“Go, Tara. Now.”

I left the bathroom and went into the nursery. Mason was safe in his crib.

“What’s happening?” I asked him.

“Stay here.” He pulled his gun from his pants. “No matter what you hear, don’t leave this room.”

“Emory?”

He disappeared.

I stared at the door, fear and terror running through me. What the hell was happening? I hadn’t heard anything, but apparently he’d heard something that set him off. One second he was a cocky asshole making jokes and the next he was something completely different.

The transformation was amazing. His whole body had gone tense and ready, like an animal about to pounce.

I waited for a few minutes, but I couldn’t just sit in there. I set up Mason’s baby monitor and took the monitor with me as I crept out of my room.

Sure, Emory told me not to, but my parents were still downstairs, and I couldn’t just hide in a nursery while they were potentially in danger. If anything happened with Mason, I’d hear it on the monitor.

But I didn’t hear a thing. There wasn’t a single sound, not even coming from downstairs. Normally my parents were talking or listening to the radio or watching TV. It was basically unheard of that the house was this quiet with this many people in it.

I moved down the steps and looked over the bannister. My parents were both sitting at the kitchen table, looks of terror on their faces.

And then I saw him. He was a man I didn’t recognize, bearded, tall. He was wearing a black T-shirt and camouflage pants, and he was holding a large gun, like a rifle or something like that.

My heart skipped a beat. He was looking out the back window, and so he didn’t see me. I moved back slightly but kept my eyes on him.

Terrorist. There was a terrorist in our house. This wasn’t the Omar man, since this man was white, but he was definitely one of the terrorists Emory talked about.

Where was Emory? He’d snuck out of the room, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. My parents were just sitting there, looks of abject terror on their faces, as the man looked out the window.