Sweet Affliction [Sweet Awakenings 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (11 page)

“Smart girl,” Nick said, pointing toward how she had positioned her purse.

Smiling, she answered, “My dad taught me well.”

“I’ll bet he did. Listen, when you’re there can you see if they have any recent newspapers from the States?”

All she could do was give him a half-hearted nod. The anxiety of leaving her father was building up. She had to get out of here, hurry, and get back as quickly as she could. The idea that she wouldn’t be here if he woke, or if he…she couldn’t even think it.

“I’m going.” She opened the back door, which led to the beach, and started to leave.

“Any chance you have a computer with Internet?” he shouted to her from the doorway.

“Yes, there’s a small netbook in a bag in my room at the end of the hall. In the bag is a WiFi drive you can hook into the USB port. Now, please get back inside and shut the door.”

She looked around, hoping no one saw or heard him. It may seem paranoid to scan the surrounding area for lurkers, especially since they didn’t have any immediate neighbors, but the horror that her father had shot a man and they’d put the identification of a United States Navy SEAL on a dead body to fake his own death was still too fresh in her mind.

* * * *

Nick checked on her father once more before going to her room to retrieve her bag. He put the small drive into the port and waited for the magical little hourglass on the screen to talk to whichever satellite it was trying to acquire service from. It was taking forever. He walked around the room with it, hoping to find a better spot where it would connect.

Finally, standing at the end of her bed, it connected. He sat down and put in on the bed beside him. Luckily, he caught himself before his instinct directed him to check his e-mail. Surely someone would notice that a dead man had signed into his e-mail account. That would send up a red flag or two.

Opening Internet Explorer, he went to the first place he knew any releases would be listed, The Department of Defense press releases site. He tapped his fingers impatiently as the page took forever to load. When it finally did he wasn’t prepared for what he saw. He sat there staring at it before he dared click on the link. Marked with yesterday’s date it read
DOD Identifies Navy Casualty
.

With nervous fingers he clicked on the link, which took him to the full release. He had heard the story from AJ and again from her father. He knew, judging from what they told him, that everyone must have assumed he was dead. Somehow that must not have set in, because as he stood here staring at the screen he felt sick.

DOD Identifies Navy Casualty

The Department of Defense announced today the death of a sailor who had supported Operation Enduring Freedom.

Commander Nick P. Slater, 39, of San Diego, California, died Oct. 7 while on rest and recuperation leave from supporting Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan. An ambush by those believed to be terrorists took place, and Commander Slater suffered fatal wounds. He was based out of Coronado NAB with SEAL Team 7.

He read it at least a dozen times while he allowed the reality of it to sink in. He was dead. For the first time since the passing of his mother he was actually glad she was no longer with them and now resting peacefully next to his father. The thought that she could have gotten that kind of news killed him.

He took a deep breath. “Get a hold of yourself, Slater.”

He needed to pull it together, and quick. He exited the DOD page and started browsing through both national and San Diego local newspapers, looking for any signs that Adam, Jack, or Rex had been targeted yet. He saw nothing. His fingers slowed when he caught a funeral announcement for himself. The navy was having a service for him at Miramar, and his remains would soon after be scattered to sea by a close friend.

Adam.

“Fuck!”

Adam was like a brother to him in more ways than one. They’d served on several missions together throughout the years. His old friend had always kept a low profile, pretty far under the radar, but this would bring him out in the open and make it easier for whomever that fuck hired to find him. He had to get word to Adam, and fast. He was positive that whoever had orders to kill them was pulling out all the stops. E-mails and phone calls could be easily tracked. He was going to have to get creative and at the same time be very damn careful. And he was going to have to do it soon.

He scanned through several announcements but could find nothing more on his services or where they planned to scatter his ashes. Adam knew he wanted to be laid to rest off the beaches of Coronado, but it was a big island and there was no telling where he would do it.

He considered leaving a message at Coronado NAB to see if they could intercept Adam when he arrived at the island checkpoint, but in order to do that he would have to make a big extravagant story up in order to get those stationed at the main building to do it. A big story only translated into people talking and asking questions. That wasn’t an option. He wanted this kept low-key and innocuous.

What he wouldn’t give for an untraceable satphone right now. It would certainly handle a lot of his immediate problems. Come to think of it, a lot of the gadgets they had access to in the teams would do him loads of good right now.

He struggled with his options. There was always sending an e-mail from a general account, which would take him no time at all to create. He could keep it simple and innocent sounding as to not alert anyone in case his e-mails were being watched. A call was out of the question, as was any form of a text message. A tracer would only have to see which area the call or text came from and they’d know that something was amiss.

It was an infuriating feeling to feel helpless to do anything. Hell, he was fucking dead. You don’t get much more helpless than that. He needed to punch something. Hard.

There was no time to wait. These mercenaries who were hired to take them out could strike at any moment. They could be en route to any of their locations as he sat here on his ass doing nothing.

“Fuck it!”

He clicked on a new browser window and went to Yahoo.com. Hurriedly he typed through the steps of opening a new e-mail account. Adam was no slouch when it came to tech things, so he purposely made his identity something that only Adam would understand. It was a shit ass thing to do, and he would regret it later, but he knew it would get his friend’s attention and hopefully whoever was tracking them didn’t have enough intel to figure it out. At least if nothing else he hoped it bought them time to prepare themselves for any oncoming ambush.

Under the section for name he typed in Allison Williams. The name would grab his attention in a heartbeat since it was the name of his deceased fiancée. For date of birth he typed in Adam’s. He wasn’t sure of the year, but he remembered it was April 4th. For location he entered New Orleans, Louisiana. The place where Adam had first met his fiancée. The similarities would not only get his attention but they’d make him start digging into who sent him the e-mail, if for no other reason but to kick their ass. His old teammate definitely had a temper. It was a fact he was counting on.

Once the e-mail account was set up, he started to compose the message to Adam. He was thankful that in the past they rarely used his military address for corresponding with one another. Adam also had an e-mail account that was thankfully easy enough to remember.

Adam,

I know you’re remarried now and happy, but we still have things to discuss. Please stop avoiding me. I don’t want to have to go to your wife. Perhaps we could arrange a financial resolution to the predicament you got yourself into?

P.S. I named him after your father, Reginald.

Allison

He read through it a few times before deciding it was hopefully the last thing that would tip someone off. With the news of him being dead and the notice of his funeral, he prayed that no one would even be suspecting him to e-mail his friend from the dead to warn him. His friend would have to be on his game in order to catch the hidden clue.

God help them all if Nick was wrong and Adam didn’t.

Adam stood at the edge of the steep terrain. His head was bowed as he clutched the small wooden box. Thankfully, Jack had said a prayer right before he’d scattered Nick’s ashes. There was no way he would have been able to get through more than a word or two without getting choked up. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. Nick Slater was a damn good man, though. This was just ten shades of fucked up.

Chelsea wrapped her arms around his arm, entwining their fingers together as she took one of his hands. He was lucky to have her. That was something he never took for granted. For all the crap in his life, he still managed to have a happy ending by finding her. He knew this wasn’t the end per se, but she was the closest thing to guaranteed happiness and more than he could’ve ever hoped to wish for.

With Nick’s death it just reinforced to him how fortunate he was. He had a home, a wife, and good friends. Most people could only dream and wish for such things. When he got back home he intended to get a few things in order. His issues with the past still crept up on him at times. Chelsea was always patient and understanding with him, but he knew damn well she didn’t deserve it. He was a grown man, and it was time he start figuring out how to cope with things so she didn’t have to bear the brunt of his moods.

“That was nice.” Tamara spoke quietly.

“What’s that, babe?” Jack asked.

“The way the wind picked up right before Adam poured his ashes out. It was as if he was being carried out to sea.”

Adam had to smile. Tamara was a good woman. She always saw a silver lining in every situation. At times it annoyed the crap out of him, but then there were other times when he knew that her “glass half full” way of looking at things was probably an outlook he needed to adopt.

He turned and placed a small kiss to his wife’s temple. “Thanks for being here, baby.”

Just like the angel she was, she offered him a soft and reassuring smile. He knew there was nowhere else she would be. She has been loyal and by his side from the moment they’d met. He truly was one lucky son of a bitch.

“It’s getting kind of chilly. Maybe we should head back to the rental,” Rex suggested.

“Yeah. You guys go ahead. I think I’m going to stand here for a couple minutes longer.” He tossed Rex the keys and kissed Chelsea. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

He waited until everyone was a dozen or so yards away before he put his hands in his pockets and looked out to sea.

“Man, you really piss me off, you know that? You were so close to being out and done with all this shit. You could’ve had a life.”

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut to keep the wetness from leaking through.

“You were one of my best friends. Oh, shut up. I know what you’re thinking. Hard ass, cold as ice Adam Collins didn’t have friends. Well, I did. You were a good man, Slater. A damn fine SEAL, and don’t think I forgot about that time you stood up and acted as a decoy years back. You ended up getting yourself shot. You were always doing stupid shit like that.”

Adam rocked back on his heels and looked up to the sky. This sucked to high heaven.

“I’m gonna miss you, man. Now, I gotta go. If I don’t get back to the car soon the boys are gonna give me all sorts of shit.” He turned away, hesitated, and took one last glance at the sea. “I love you, brother.”

Walking back to the SUV, he felt his BlackBerry vibrate from his inside jacket pocket. He pulled it out, annoyed because he’d told everyone, even business associates, that he would be unreachable for several days. He clicked on the e-mail icon flashing on his screen and was already mentally preparing a verbal tongue-lashing to whichever one of his contacts had dared bother him when he saw the name flash on his screen.

Allison Williams
. What the hell?

He selected the open-message option on his screen and waited impatiently as the little hourglass on his screen seemed to take forever. Now standing on the outside of the vehicle, he heard Chelsea ask him if everything was all right. He looked up to her, and his expression must have betrayed him because she turned stark white. She opened the window and asked him what was wrong, but he didn’t answer. Instead he got in behind the steering wheel, calmly closed the window, and put a hand up to silence her while he waited for the little hourglass to stop spinning.

Finally it opened. He scanned the message. His curiosity made him want to take in as much as he could at once. Then he slowed down and read it all again. More carefully this time he went over every sentence. He bunched his brows together in confusion. Why would anyone fuck with him like this, especially now when he was laying a friend to rest?

“Adam, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

He looked to his wife, shaking his head before looking back to his phone. This didn’t make any sense. Alie was dead. She and their baby had died. He didn’t even know Chelsea when Alie was alive.

“Dude, you all right? You need me to drive or something?” Jack asked from the back of the SUV.

He knew he should be answering them. At least maybe acknowledging them in some way, but he felt frozen. Getting over the guilt of losing her and their child because of his actions was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He still wasn’t totally over it. It was a daily struggle for him to look in the mirror and not hate himself. What kind of sick fuck would taunt him in this way?