Lucky SEAL (Lucky Devil #2) (19 page)

“Tell them to wait for their ride along. I’ll be there in five.” Rourke had to go now.

“You came in with the PD?” Tommy asked. Then he held up his hands before Rourke could answer. “I don’t want to know. I was just about to suggest you get moving. With all of this movement, it would be easy to lose track of a certain unrestrained person of interest. I don’t know who you are, but you saved Jennifer’s life when you intervened tonight. Evan is unstable, to say the least. She pulled a gun on him. He would have killed her in the heat of the moment.”

“I know your people were observing from nearby. I passed them on my way in. Why didn’t you act sooner?” Rourke wanted to know why the DEA didn’t swarm the scene earlier.

“I had orders to remain undercover. Evan isn’t the top of the food chain. He also has many sources. The higher-ups would have left me in place to gather as much information as possible on the rest of Evan’s network. Playing dead once I covered Jennifer was my objective. I was ordered to act when it looked like you would kill Evan. I broke cover to save the slimy bastard from you.” Tommy didn’t look upset about that at all.

“I see,” Rourke’s interference affected the sting. He wasn’t sorry. They would have let Evan kill Jennifer if it meant their investigation would continue.

“I’m personally glad it panned out the way it did. Jennifer survived. Evan survived. And I'm due for a nice long vacation. I’ve been undercover with that prick or over a year. I’m ready to go home.” Tommy admitted.

“You’re leaving?” Jennifer was edging toward panic. She peered around at all of the black-clad DEA agents.

“Do you want me to walk back to Vegas?” he asked. She rolled her eyes. There was his girl. She would get through this trauma, just as she had before. Jennifer was a strongwoman. She was just freaked out and she had every right to be. It had taken Rourke a few rides to get used to choppers too.

“I flew in with the cops. That’s my ride home,” he explained. She raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’ll explain the how of it to you later at the hospital.”

Tommy was a short distance away speaking to another agent when he was handed a phone, and he had a short conversation. When he hung up, he walked back to Jennifer and Rourke. “We need to move. Let’s walk. The PD is waiting for you, and it will be better to have Jennifer on site when the medivac lands.”

Rourke set Jennifer down to fish his gun out of the bushes and grabbed his backpack from the steep incline he’d traversed to get to her. He scooped her back up when she tried to walk and swayed. He would happily ferry her to the medics. Rourke followed Tommy. They spoke as the two men hustled to the road the police had shut down when the sting went down. They’d made use of the space for a landing pad.

“They don’t want to send you to the same hospital with Evan and his men. You have information that could be important to us. I doubt it since I know more than you do, but the higher ups want to talk you anyway. We don’t want to give Evan the chance to sneak up on you.” Rourke agreed wholeheartedly with this plan.

“I’ll help any way I can,” Jennifer told Tommy.

“I knew you would. Evan is going to the nearest hospital. We’re going to fly you to Sunrise Hospital back in Vegas,” Tommy explained to Jennifer, who was starting to freak out about the prospect of a helicopter ride alone. “They have a level two trauma center at Sunrise. She’ll be well taken care of,” Tommy reassured Rourke.

They reached the road, and Rourke was forced to release Jennifer to Tommy’s care. He hated it, but he would be glad to have a slight head start on her. He’d need to get from the police hanger to Sunrise before she got there if possible. Jennifer looked small and fragile in Tommy’s arms.

“Let’s go! The other bird wants to land,” the pilot called to Rourke.

He swiftly kissed Jennifer. “You tell them your husband is on the way, you hear me? If they give me any shit about seeing you, I’m going super SEAL on their asses.”

Jennifer gave him a little smile. “My husband is on the way. Got it. No SEAL Team ass whippings at the hospital.

“Good girl. I love you. I’ll see you in a few.”

Rourke could hear the other bird hovering nearby. Jennifer would be right behind him. He tossed his bag in and climbed in after it. As they lifted away, Rourke looked down to watch Jennifer for as long as possible. He could now see in Jennifer’s eyes the state of mind she’d described experiencing following her escape from Evan. She was paranoid and for good reason. Now she’d been traumatized again. More death and horror had crossed her path. She was covered with someone else’s blood and worse. She’d been shot. And she didn’t trust anyone but Rourke. Which was really only right since he planned to make her his wife as soon as she was well enough to stand before Pastor Davis and say her vows. He would get her help, too. He’d talk to them at the hospital about having a psychologist visit her. Rourke would go into therapy, himself, if that were what it took to convince her to go when got home.

Rourke’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and his stomach dropped. It wasn’t just any ringtone. It was series of beeps, pauses, and vibrations that let him know it was a call he could not ignore. He pulled out the phone and cursed long and loud. The officers around him edged away as far as they could without exiting the bird. He couldn’t blame them. Rourke was furious. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. He had a message from his senior chief. Rourke’s team was being recalled, effective immediately, if not sooner. He would not be going to the hospital. He wouldn’t even be going home to get any of his things. When an order of this magnitude arrived, you dropped everything and went directly to the airport, where flight arrangements would already be waiting for you.

Jennifer was frightened and injured, and she was relying on Rourke to be there for her. She only trusted him. She only wanted him. And Rourke wanted to be there for her, but it wasn’t going to happen. He prayed Jennifer would understand and forgive him.

As soon as they touched down at the police hanger, which was located at the airport, Rourke leaped from the bird and jogged for the terminal. He dialed Dolce as he ran but got voicemail so he left a message.

“Dolce, it’s Rourke. I need you to go to the hospital and meet Jennifer. She’s been shot, but she’ll survive. Luc can give you a little more detail. I’ve been recalled immediately. I can’t go be with Jennifer. I have no way to reach her, either. She won’t have any clue where I’ve gone. Please tell her I’ll be home as soon as possible. Tell her I love her. Make sure she knows I love her, and I’ll be home soon.” Rourke disconnected the call. He had some life changing choices this trip home and he couldn’t make them happen.

Two long months down range with his SEAL team on a series of operations that were completely off the grid left Rourke with a case of homesickness the likes he hadn’t experienced since boot camp. The separation from Jenifer at such a crucial point in their blooming relationship was mostly to blame for his anxiety and urgent need to get home to Vegas. The dramatic way they parted after such a violent situation also scared the shit out of Rourke. He needed to get back to Jennifer as soon as possible. Rourke had a lot of explaining to do.

Rourke had never felt so instantly and irrevocable drawn to another person before, and it was an eye opening experience. He knew without a doubt that he was in love with Jennifer. He’d told Jennifer as much. Unfortunately, it had been a less than ideal time to confess his love, but after the fleeting moments when he thought she was dead, the words just tumbled out of his mouth. It was a good thing he’d told her when he did, though. If he hadn’t, Rourke would have left Jennifer without a goodbye and no idea how much he truly felt for her.

In hindsight, he felt like an idiot for not telling her as soon as he realized he wanted her in his future, in his forever, but he’d felt it was unfair to put any pressure on her given the stress she was already under. He told Jennifer she was his woman and they had a lot to talk about once he took care of Evan. At the time that seemed like enough. If Rourke had known how little time he’d have with Jennifer things would have gone differently.

If he had confessed his feelings, Rourke wouldn’t have been declaring his love to a blood soaked Jennifer after Evan dragged her into a major drug deal that ended with shots fired. The truth came pouring out of Rourke when he held her in his arms, alive if not whole, after the heart wrenching moments he was sure Jennifer was dead.

What a romantic story to tell their children. Rourke’s brain locked up and had to reboot when that idea crept up on him. Children . . . He felt a little dizzy. Rourke couldn’t get that far ahead of himself yet, but the fact this mind had freely drifted the idea of children with Jennifer was telling. Just a few months ago, Rourke didn’t believe he would ever get married, and therefore, would never have kids. Now, all he could think about was securing a future with Jennifer. That future would eventually include little blond haired, blue-eyed babies. But again, he was getting way ahead of himself. It was better to focus on the here and now.

Rourke couldn’t wait to get home when he left town. Usually, it was just the opposite. When he was heading back to base after some time off, Rourke was always eager to jump back in with both feet and get to work. The flight to Virginia from Vegas to report for duty when he was summoned was pure hell for Rourke. He couldn’t read or watch the movie. He couldn’t think of anything but Jennifer’s condition. He believed Jennifer’s injuries were completely survivable, but that didn’t stop him from going crazy with worry until he touched down and was able to call Dolce. All Dolce was able to tell him was that Jennifer was out of surgery and things had gone well. There was only so much information the hospital would give a person who wasn’t family, and she wouldn’t be allowed visitors until the next day.

That was the last information Rourke had on Jennifer. She came through surgery to remove the bullet from her shoulder and repair the damage with flying colors. She would recover. But was she safe? Was she back at the church sleeping in the soup kitchen? Had she gone home to her family in Washington, DC? Rourke had no idea, and it was maddening.

Once Rourke was back on base and being briefed for the upcoming operation, though, he had to put everything but the job out of his mind. Distracted operators were dead operators. Rourke had to do the job right if he wanted get back home in one piece. He had to be the operator above all else when out in the field. That’s what he did. Now, it was time to return to the real world, and it was easier to turn off the sailor than it had ever been before.

Two long months and one week later and Rourke was just about crying in his beer. He had no way to contact Jennifer. She didn’t have a phone or an address, and he still didn’t know her last name. How the fuck had he forgotten to ask Jennifer for a last name? Rourke was right back to where he started, searching for the mysterious woman who’d stolen his heart in a soup kitchen with his best friends and half the homeless population of North Vegas there to witness his downfall.

Rourke called Dolce as soon as he returned to the world. Unfortunately, Dolce had nothing but bad news for him. Dolce had no idea where Jennifer went after leaving the hospital. The day after surgery, when Dolce went to see Jennifer and make arrangement for Jennifer to stay with her, upon her release, Jennifer was gone. And thank god, Dolce learned Jennifer’s last name at the hospital. That would make his search easier. It warmed his heart to know Dolce was prepared to take in the woman Rourke loved and care for her in Rourke’s absence. He couldn’t have asked for a better blood sister. Dolce was closer than blood. She was a sister by choice.

Rourke went straight to the church from the airport when he landed, but Jennifer’s little room was untouched. The fancy dresses she hated still hung on the rack, and her red-bottomed heels rested below them on the floor. The books still lined the ledge of the shelf. Her bed had been stripped of linens. The lamp had been removed. According to the pastor, Jennifer must have used it as a weapon, because it was bent and broken when he found it.

Pastor Davis had no clue where Jennifer was, either. Rourke believed the man this time. He wasn’t withholding information to protect a parishioner’s privacy any longer. The pastor hadn’t seen Jennifer since he saw her limp body dragged out of the soup kitchen and stuffed into the back of a black sedan.

Rourke found the last known address for Jennifer Burks fairly easily on the internet. He went there next, but she didn’t live there any longer. There was a young couple now occupying the space. The rental office manager was no help at all to Rourke. After quite a bit of bullying on Rourke’s part, the woman threatened to call the police if he didn’t leave. There are privacy policies that are taken very seriously, and the rental manager was not willing to risk her job to help Rourke locate Jennifer.

Then, Rourke remembered the neighbor who had contacted Evan and given Jennifer away under the romantic misgiving that she was helping a man in love reunite with his girlfriend. Rourke ran back to the building Jennifer once lived in and knocked on the next door. Marcy was beautiful, but she couldn’t compare to his Jennifer. She was flirty when she opened the door to find Rourke in the hall, but she sobered when he explained that he was hunting for Jennifer.

Marcy was able to tell him a little more about Jennifer’s move. When Marcy saw Jennifer’s things being moved, she sweet-talked one of the maintenance men who had a crush on her into doing a little fact finding in the office. It seemed the receptionist had the hots for him, so he easily pried the facts out of her. Marcy was a resourceful girl. Her wannabe beau found out that Jennifer’s back rent was paid in full before she was evicted by a party the receptionist wouldn’t or couldn’t release to him. A moving company took her things, but they never saw Jennifer. The rental manager had to let the movers in to pack and remove Jennifer’s things in her absence. That was all Marcy could tell him. Before Rourke left Marcy’s tiny apartment, they both promised to contact the other if either of them heard from Jennifer.

Rourke was baffled. He knew Jennifer didn’t have much money. Maybe two or three thousand dollars between her savings and the money Marcy had given her. That wouldn’t have lasted for over two months if she weren’t working. He didn’t believe she would have spent it on movers, but she wouldn’t have been able to do it herself after surgery on her shoulder. Maybe she didn’t have a choice. So where had she taken her things?

Rourke’s next stop was The Winn, where Jennifer used to work as a dancer in a popular show. He nosed around and was able to find a few dancers who had worked with Jennifer. They didn’t know anything about what had happened to her since she left the show. The two girls that had been closest to Jennifer explained that they’d received a message from her when she quit the show. The mysterious note delivered to them stated that Jennifer was in love and was getting married. Her new fiancé didn’t want her to work. So she was resigning. Both women thought it was odd, because Jennifer wasn’t the type to bow to a man’s wishes. They never heard another word from her. Rourke agreed. She wasn’t. The message had to have come from Evan in an effort to cover her disappearance.

He exhausted all of his options and had no idea where to look next. Rourke would have to enlist Luc and his many resources now. Rourke went to Luc’s office, hoping to find him, so he could beg for help face to face, but Luc’s newest secretary informed Rourke that Luc was unavailable, but she’d give him a message.

With no place else to go, Rourke met up with Dolce to wait for Luc at Dante’s, Dolce’s preferred restaurant at The Inferno. He felt like he was chasing his own tail around Las Vegas. Dolce sat next to Rourke at the bar in her sleek black suite, her shining black hair in an elegant knot on her head, and heels so high she should have a nosebleed, with a mournful expression to match Rourke’s woeful mien. They sipped beers and discussed Rourke’s next possible move. Flying out to DC to begin hunting there appeared to be his best option. It was possible Jennifer’s father –the high-powered Washington lawyer– had paid for her move and the back rent she owed.

“Who died? You two look miserable for people who should be happy to see each other,” Luc said as he slid into the seat next to Dolce. Then, he leaned forward to make eye contact with Rourke. “Welcome home. I’m glad your back. Now Dolce will stop worrying so much,” Luc told him and looked away as if uncomfortable. Dolce blinked at Luc a few times before giving Rourke a small smile. She was willing to let Luc put the blame for all the worrying on her, but both she and Rourke knew the truth. Luc fretted every bit as much as Dolce did when Rourke was away surviving their country. He just didn’t talk about it.

“Thanks. It’s good to be back on home soil, but I can’t say it’s a happy homecoming. I’ve been searching for Jennifer since I landed. I’ve been everywhere I can think to look for her,” Rourke explained their sour faces.

“Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?”

“Yes, I’ve been to the church, her old apartment, and her last job looking for her. She’s moved. That’s all I know. That’s why I’m here. Other than to ease Dolce’s fears.” Rourke smirked. “I’m going to DC to look for Jennifer’s family. After her injury, I can only imagine she returned to her family. I need you to dig in your bag of tricks and see what you can learn about them. An address to hit as soon as I arrive would be enough to start with. Can you do that?” Rourke asked. Luc always responded better to a request than anything that came across as a demand. He was a touchy asshole, but he liked to think of himself as hard and unreachable. Idiot. Rourke loved the messed up man, though.

“I can do some digging. An address, maybe even a phone number shouldn’t be a problem. But I have one question first.”

“Yeah?” Rourke didn’t want to answer questions. He wanted Luc to be on his phone already, working on finding an address for Jennifer’s family. Rourke planned to go straight to the airport as soon as he spoke to Luc.

“It sounds like you’ve covered all the bases here in Vegas, but before I start sniffing around Washington, I have to ask, have you checked your apartment? If Jennifer feels safe with you, and I believe she does, and Evan has no idea who you are, she might have gone to your place for shelter while she heals up,” Luc suggested. “Not to say that Evan is a threat. I’ve been keeping an eye on that situation, as well. Evan is in federal prison on charges of international drug smuggling and murder. But Jennifer won’t know that, and she’ll be looking for a safe place to hide, as she did before.”

Rourke blinked hard but didn’t respond. He was thinking over the possibility. Could it be that Jennifer was waiting for Rourke at home while he ran all around town wasting time? Was she, even now, waiting for him while he sat at the bar moping?

Luc arched a sardonically questioning eyebrow, as if Rourke should have thought of going home to start with and was an idiot for not doing so. Rourke sat wide-eyed with the gears in his mind grinding. How would she get in without a key? How would she take care of herself alone after her injury? It seemed too farfetched to imagine.

Dolce was looking back and forth between the two of them as if there were a tennis ball bouncing back and forth. Her expression changed from commiserating to hopeful.

Rourke leapt from the thickly padded bar stool nearly knocking over his beer in the process. He grabbed his duffle and ran from Dante’s without another word. He hurried through the hotel and hailed a cab. Could it really be that easy to find Jennifer? Would she be there waiting for him at home? He barked the address at the cab driver. When he disembarked from the plane that morning, Rourke hadn’t wanted to go to his empty, lonely apartment. Now, he thought he might lose his shit if the cabby didn’t drive faster. Rourke couldn’t wait to get home.

Back at the bar, Dolce eyed Luc, who studiously pretended not to notice her studying him so closely while he swirled a glass of scotch and sipped on the amber liquid.

“Jennifer was shot, Luc,” Dolce told him, as if he needed the reminder.

“That’s what you told me,” he replied as if he hadn’t investigated the situation himself.

“She was injured and frightened, and she would have needed a lot of help,” Dolce again stated the facts.