Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) (28 page)

Something wasn’t quite right between Brett and Tess. Had they had a fight? Was that part of what was troubling him?

She drew a breath. If only he didn’t hold so much inside. He’d learned to close himself off because of his job, and now it was sliding into his private life. And Tess did the same thing. How could two such self-contained people reach each other?

He was worried about her relationship with Russell Connelly. Well, she was worried about his with Tess. But he’d think she was invading his privacy if she asked questions.

Just as she’d reacted when he’d done the same.

Brett appeared on the path. He was laughing. Tess’s cheeks were flushed and she was smiling.  Had they settled whatever it was that had sent up the barriers between them?

Maybe this would distract him from digging into her relationship with Russell. She didn’t need Brett picking at something so new and fragile. The relationship had just begun to bud. They hadn’t slept together, not yet. Though she knew she wanted that to happen, she was enjoying being wooed. Their lunch date had ended with a tour of the Gaslamp Quarter and she’d taken tons of pictures. But holding hands, window-shopping, talking and flirting had meant more to her. Because she’d felt closer to Russell.

She didn’t know where they were going emotionally. But she definitely didn’t need an overprotective son interfering.

She took some shots of Brett carrying his eight-foot board with the trident symbol on the front. His blond hair gleamed in the early afternoon light, his jaw darkened by a shadow of beard. He looked so much like Joe, a fist clenched around her heart. He grinned at her and she took another quick shot.

When Brett and Tess were close enough, she said, “You don’t mind my taking some photos of you, too, do you, Tess?”

Tess propped her board against the railing at the top of the stairs to tie her hair back with a rubber band. “No, not at all.”

She was so beautiful, with her slender long-limbed frame and auburn hair, Clara couldn’t resist snapping a quick picture of her right then, using the hot pink board behind her as a backdrop.

She and Brett made a striking couple, but just because their looks complimented one another didn’t mean their personalities would mesh. She drew a deep breath. As protective as she felt toward her kids, she had to step back and hope they each made the right decisions about their relationships.

“I’ll save a copy of the best pictures for your parents,” Clara promised. “Do you still say ‘hang ten dudes?’”

Tess laughed. “And ‘toes on the nose’.”

“Have fun,” Clara called as they ascended the steps.

She clicked some pictures of the two as they picked their way across the rock-strewn beach below and headed into the surf.

***

Brett monitored Tess’s progress as they paddled out past the break. They straddled their boards and studied the waves.

The kiss they’d shared, and the effort she’d put forth to get him to respond, made him hopeful. He’d have to keep nudging her to open up and reach for what she wanted.
But
–
Jesus, I want her to kiss me again. Right now.

He had to get his mind on something else or he’d reach for her. And right now he wanted her reaching for him, instead of holding him at a distance. “Do you jog?” Brett asked, looking for other things they might have in common she hadn’t mentioned.

“Not unless it’s to the head of the line at Starbucks in the morning.

He laughed.

“I’m actually pretty lazy,” she said. “I used to ride horseback every weekend when I was in New York. And I love this, though I don’t get to come out as often as I’d like.” She glanced behind her on the lookout for the perfect wave.

“This will be my first time surfing since coming home,” Brett said.

“I promise not to show you up in front of your mother,” Tess said falling chest-forward on the board. She paddled hard and was well in front of the break before the swell hit him, raising him up long enough to see her pop up on her board in perfect form. His board fell into the trench before the next wave of the set passed him, blocking his view of her. Then the water took him up again and he saw her wipe out.

Brett looked back to see the swell of the next set rising behind him.  He stretched atop the board and dug deep to get out in front of it, and then let the excitement and joy of just riding the waves take over.  

After thirty minutes passed with neither of them finding a strong ride, they settled on their boards for a breather. 

“I hope your mom isn’t disappointed in us,” Tess said. “She’s probably not getting the best shots.”

“A gag reel maybe.” Brett agreed with a laugh.  “Mom’s used to being alone and entertaining herself. Thus this adventure in photography.” He nodded toward the cliffs. “She can find beauty in the darnedest things. I saw some of her pictures recently. I was amazed. I didn’t know she had such a talent.”

“Really?”

“She’s been putting her pictures up on websites and selling them.”

“Has she ever thought of working for a newspaper?” Tess asked.

Brett’s brows rose. Would she like something like that? “I don’t know if she’d be interested or not.”

“With you and your sister both here, it would offer her even more reason to relocate.”

Zoe would love it, but what would it mean to him? His mom would be closer for when he wasn’t deployed, and though she’d flown out every time he came home, she’d be here waiting for him. He’d actually have a family unit here, like the other guys.

And what about Tess? Could she become part of that? A slow smile worked across his face. “I could get used to having family here. That’s pretty much all you think about between missions and patrols.”

Shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, he glanced seaward.  The earlier storm at sea was pushing higher waves their direction, and more surfers were paddling out past the break.

A gigantic swell rose in the distance.  He leaned forward onto the board and dug deep. “We need to paddle, Tess. A big one’s coming.”

The wave rose beneath him just as he leapt up on his board. The board’s fins caught the water, and arms extended, legs bent, he bobbled, then found his balance. The wave curled up behind him, and he hit the lip, then pivoted his board forward, working for and finding the barrel of the wave and using it to extend his ride. The displaced air pushed before the water seemed to hold him suspended on the waxed plank until the wave tumbled forward, crashing into white foam that shoved him forward a few more yards. He thrust his fists into the air in a victory sign and gave a yell.

A sudden flash on the cliffs above caught his attention. Was that light reflecting off his mother’s camera lens? He hoped she’d taken plenty of pictures, because that was probably the best ride he’d ever had.  A sudden shove from another wave had him bobbling. Something struck his side spinning him around and he fell headfirst into the water. He surfaced choking and spitting salt water.  His hip felt strangely numb.

What the fuck?

A sudden rush of water from another wave struck his board, sending it swooping toward shore and dragging him under.

He pressed his hand against his side as he fought his way to the surface. His board drifted close and he latched onto it. The surface of the board exploded near his face, sending up wood and foam particles.  “Jesus Christ!” He thrust the board away. Someone was shooting at them. He dove beneath the water, jerked the Velcro strap loose from his ankle, and set the surfboard free.

He kicked forward without surfacing, bobbed up twenty feet to the right, and looked back toward where he’d left Tess. She was paddling forward as another wave rose. “No!” The crash of the surf swallowed his yell.  Another shot zipped past his head like an angry bee and hit the water.  The fucker was fixated on him and hadn’t targeted her or any of the other surfers—yet. He dove and came up farther down shore. What could he do? How could he protect Tess? The other surfers? No one had noticed anything.

Could he make it across the unprotected strip at the base of the cliffs and get up there? His heart beat in his ears like a bass drum.
Jesus, Mom’s up there.

Fear rocketed through him, offsetting the rush of adrenaline. Brett dove and swam hard toward shore.

***

Clara heard a strange noise just down the path from where she stood. She looked back toward the road that ran parallel with the beach. Was that a car door slamming? She turned her lens toward the water and looked through to find Tess, arms outstretched, riding a wave with a grace that made the whole experience seem easy.  Another pop sounded. She jerked and lowered the camera.

That wasn’t a slam. She’d been around gunfire all her life, and she knew the difference.  She swung around trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from. Two people near the street were running down the road away from the cliffs.  She shifted her focus from the water and surfers below to the path she’d traveled earlier. A man lay prone on the ground, a rifle pointed downward toward the beach.
Dear God!
Her heart thundered in her ears and tremor shook her body. She focused the camera lens on the man, dark hair, dusky skin, a black baseball cap, and pushed the camera button again and again. She swung the camera toward the water.

A surfboard bobbed and jerked as the water shoved it toward the beach.

A white surfboard with a SEAL trident on it.

Clara’s heart skipped a beat and she leaned forward over the overhang as far as she dared to search for Brett through the lens. He was nowhere in sight. Just the board. Fear numbed her hands and feet and made it difficult to breathe. Her hands shook so she had trouble gripping the cell phone she jerked from the camera bag at her feet. She speed dialed 911.

A busy signal? My God, a busy signal?

Another pop sounded and Clara brought the camera to her face again, looking out to sea, looking for Tess and Brett. Tess straddled her board and was looking toward the beach. She was an easy target.

Three surfers paddled toward one of the other surfers who was signaling. Had he been shot?  Dear God that man was going to kill them all.

What should she do? She hit the button on her phone again to redial the number.

A busy signal.  This can’t be happening.

Her breathing came in gasping breaths. “Dear God, help me,” she said aloud and broke into a run toward the man with the rifle.

The ground seemed to roll beneath her feet, and she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Her fingers gripped the camera so hard it hurt.

She was almost upon him when he turned to look over his shoulder. With a cry of panicked fear, she swung the camera down in a backhanded motion as hard as she could, hitting him on the side of the head. The telephoto lens broke away. Her fingers numb, she lost her grip on the camera and it tumbled across the hard-packed dirt. He jerked around and tried to bring the rifle into position. She staggered and fell on top of him, kneeing him in the stomach. The rifle went off. He shoved the gun into the side of her head, the steel barrel striking her just above the ear and knocking her aside.

Stunned and deafened from the shot, a high-pitched ringing dulled the crash of the waves, and made the sound of her breathing loud in her ears. She rolled onto her side and tried to rise, but her limbs were slow to work.

He staggered to his feet and pointed the barrel of the rifle at her. With his teeth clenched in a grimace and his cold, dark eyes focused on her with hatred, Clara’s limbs turned to liquid. He aimed at her chest. He screamed an insult at her she couldn’t understand.

“Mom!”

A shout came from the stairs and Brett half ran, half limped toward them. He held his side with one hand and the sun glinted off something in the other. The man pivoted and raised the rifle to his shoulder.

Adrenaline shot through her veins. “No.” Clara lunged and, wrapping her arms around the man’s legs, she heaved forward and knocked him off balance. The gun discharged into the sky. The shooter staggered and jerked away, kicking her in the jaw. She cried out. He screamed something at her and thrust the gun’s stock down at her face.  She rolled, and covered her head with her arm. The blow landed, brutal and numbing.

CHAPTER 23

The shooter broke into a full-out run. Brett, torn by the compulsion to give chase, slid to a stop on the dusty path, then rushed back to his mother. Blood welled between his fingers from the wound in his side. It dripped to the dry ground and onto her crop pants. He ignored it as he knelt next to her. With a violent movement, filled with frustration and anger, he thrust the knife he gripped into the ground.

Agony ratcheted through him catching at his voice. “Mom?”  He drew her arms away from her head and she cried out.

“It’s just me, Brett.”

With a sob, she reached for him.  For a moment, just holding her seemed the best thing for them both. His arms shook and his heart thundered inside him. Nausea hit next, and he sat down, dragging her close against him. He braced a hand on the ground to remain sitting. Now that the adrenaline was leaching away, his side screamed for attention. And the smell of blood was making him nauseous.

Sirens wailed in the distance and people rounded the edge of the path. Seeing them, they hesitated, then rushed forward.

“Call 911 and ask for an ambulance,” he instructed one of the women.

“You’re bleeding,” one woman pointed out.

No shit. Brett accepted the towel she offered him and pressed it against his side.

“We found this bag full of camera equipment on the path,” another woman said and sat it down close to the camera lying in the dirt.

“Someone needs to go down the stairs and check if anyone else needs medical attention,” Brett suggested.
Was Tess all right? Had the fucker tried to shoot her too
? An image of her floating lifeless in the water rose up to tear at him. “Please hurry.”

“I’ll do it,” the only man with the group answered.