Kyle Sommerton bursts through the door, his own gun up and at the ready as his clear eyes catalog the room in a quick threat assessment. He settles on the groaning Lockman and mumbles, "What is it with me and women who kick ass?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AT THE END OF THE DAY
Piper
THE DAY JT and I return from D.C., President McKenna calls Tess to explain the circumstances of Gavin's disappearance and the years of service that came before it. She processes the news with restrained hope. Not surprising when one day your husband is dead, the next he's alive and an American hero who is now missing in action-for real this time, no more smoke and mirrors. It's the stuff movies are made of, not something that happens in Lilyfalls, small-town U.S.A.
Two days after coming home, my bank account is full of millions. Maybe it's blood money, but I don't care. My only care in the world, beyond a healthy and happy JT, is Caden. If my trust fund secures our future and prevents financial worry, I'll gladly accept it.
And I didn't do anything to force dear old Dad's hand but shove the truth in his face in dramatic fashion. Silas Stevens had the winning bid all along. His appointment with General Matthews was to sign the multi-billion-dollar contract. Lockman had lost. Not because I told President McKenna I believed Morgan negotiated with Marik through William Churchill-he already knew. Government officials were aware of his dealings in the Middle East. They had even manipulated Lockman with an assistant who was also a spy. She funneled information to Gavin Lawless that allowed him deeper access into Marik's camp. It was all a tactic much bigger than I will ever understand. We touched the tip of the iceberg with the remainder buried under a sea of covert missions. My confrontation did nothing but make Lockman aware he wasn't king and force my father to believe I'd played a part in it. The ruse was my own negotiation for money that rightly belonged to me and had been held over my head by manipulative parents.
Time goes on. Life goes on. Three weeks pass. Twenty-one days of baking, painting, loving JT, and missing Caden. Today is no different. Although there is joy in Lilyfalls, news from Cara lights up Tess's eyes and my heart. Cara is pregnant, two months along and glowing, except for when she cries and curses Caden. And Gavin. Which is a lot.
August in Lilyfalls rolls on hot and sunny. But we're still sad. Under every emotion, we worry and miss our SEALs, wondering where they spend their days, and if tonight will be the night they'll come home.
Leaving Gus at the house on Tuesday afternoon, I take JT to the pediatrician for a follow-up appointment. I breathe a sigh of relief when he gets a clean bill of health from the doctor. No permanent lung damage from his mold allergy. At sixteen weeks, he tips the scales at seventeen pounds but is a healthy weight for his length. He's a big boy my JT, just like Justin.
Next stop is the OB/Gyn for my own checkup and renewed birth control. If I plan on burning up the sheets with Caden, and I do, I need to keep popping those pills. They draw blood, and I get a script I drop off at the pharmacy which is next to the post office. I've been lax on my correspondence since our Washington trip, only sending little notes to Caden and missing my written thoughts to Justin. Today I have two letters, one for each of them. As I slide the envelopes through the slot, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Maisie: My boss is H.O.T. hot, as in smokin' hot man flesh, as in I can't stop staring, as in I drooled during my first staff meeting and had to covertly wipe up the evidence. Speaking of covert, have you heard from Caden?
Me: 1. Smoking hot man flesh? I need a better description. 2. BOSSES are off-limits. You need this job. 3. No. I didn't hear from Caden yesterday. That's three days.
Tears sting my eyes as I hit send, but before any can fall my cell rings with Maisie's name flashing on the screen. I sniffle away my snot as I lift it to my ear.
"He's fine. I know it. No freaking out, okay? You're not freaking out, are you?"
I walk down the sidewalk to sit on a park bench not far from the post office with JT next to me in his stroller. The sun is high, the flowers bright, both betraying my darkening mood. "I'm okay," I say while playing with JT's fingers that naturally grip mine. "We had been able to connect almost every morning until radio silence hit. I'm keeping busy and trying to think good thoughts. Now take my mind off of the Middle East and help me with visuals of this hot boss."
I need a distraction. Caden is on my mind from breakfast, through lunch and dinner, every minute in between and each time I want coffee, which is all the time, and I get sad when it's not his strong brew. Maisie is the perfect antidote for my weeping heart.