SEAL Love's Legacy (Silver SEALs Book 1) Read online

  “That’s a no-go, mom. I’m staying at a motel.”

  “Sure, Mimi. But I thought we could have some girl-time.”

  “Why don’t we rent a house down at the beach at Christmas? Make it a whole week? That would give us more girl-time.”

  “Well—”

  Even before her mother finished her sentence, Mimi knew the Christmas plans were not going to include her. They were going to include the man she was going to introduce to her, and hopefully get her blessing about before a private Christmas wedding somewhere in Hawaii or the Caribbean.

  “I’ve sort of got plans for Christmas, and that’s why I wanted you to come down this weekend. I can put you up at the Hotel Del—”

  “Nice. Where Jason and I spent our honeymoon? I’m going to say no to that one.”

  “Right, I’m sorry. You choose the place, and I’ll pay for it.”

  “How about I pay for everything? I’ll fly down Friday night if you can pick me up? I’ll try to get a flight not too late?”

  “Wonderful. We’ll be there. Just text me your info.”

  Staring back at Georgette’s empty desk, Mimi was struck with the sudden realization that now her other parent was moving on. She knew this day would come eventually. She was glad her mother’s long wait was finally over, but that meant she would be sharing her mom with someone new. This turning point meant that indeed Mimi was totally on her own.

  You’re being too harsh with her said a voice from the ether, as if her Dad was chastising her to quit hanging on. But that’s what she was still doing. It totally sucked.

  Mimi imagined she could see Georgette’s coy little face smiling up at her. How did she deal with an important father who had the weight of the whole country, part of the whole world, on his shoulders? A mother who was rumored to be a handful for the Secret Service detail—but Mimi had only overheard that conversation. It didn’t surprise her. Georgette’s mother had been a former model, with the sexy eyes that told the world she still missed it.

  Everyone moves on. Georgette has “lost” both her parents, like I have.

  On the day they came to the door to speak with her mother about her father’s demise, she’d seen the fear smeared all over the face of the female Chaplain in the notification detail. Mimi had wondered how this woman could go on with her life after visiting dozens of sad families like she did that day. Did she go home and hug her children to reassure them she was still among the living or to reassure herself that she wasn’t affected?

  Mimi’s rock that day had been her father’s best friend, Garrett Tierney, who grabbed her tight and held her fourteen-year-old body so intensely she felt the hug for days afterward. She could still today smell the odor of him, the sweat from the long plane ride. He told the story of how her father had died. He held her mother, who had to be given something and was brought to the bedroom by a nurse the Navy had sent along.

  That left her staring back at Tierney—the man who was always second, behind her father. He was a better fish, her dad used to say, and a much better womanizer, much to her mother’s relief. She and her mother had loved hearing about the pair’s exploits, her father’s handsome face lighting up when he told them of some of the pranks they used to pull on each other.

  She had wanted to be brave that day after her mother was taken to the bedroom, but her lower lip began to quiver. Then he was there, kneeling in front of her, pulling her to him, and breathing words into her ear she wished she could now remember. She was consumed with him. She wanted to ask him if he could stay, even though she missed and would forever miss her dad. He felt and smelt so much like her Dad. She wasn’t ready to let go. Why couldn’t they just let Garrett Tierney stay for a day until she’d cried all her tears away, until her mother could get up out of bed?

  That had been ten years ago last month, the anniversary not even planned with a special gravesite visit or family gettogetheror a phone call. It just drifted off like any other day. She was in D.C., and her mother was still in Southern California. They both had moved on as best they could.

  Suddenly, the doors to her classroom opened, sending a brisk hallway breeze forward, accentuating the tear that had developed under Mimi’s right eye. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand and stood to meet her visitors.

  Two young men and a woman entered the classroom. She didn’t recognize any of them, but from their appearance, she took them for FBI, Homeland Security, or Secret Service detail. If they were Capitol Police, they’d be in uniform, since this was not a social call. She instantly had an inkling it was going to have something to do with Georgette’s absence.

  “Mrs. Wagner?” one of the men asked her. He appeared to be about the same age as she was, around twenty-eight.

  “That’s me. What can I do for you?” She rounded the desk and extended her hand.

  “I’m Special Agent Peter Hoaglund. This is Special Agent Ron Desideri.”

  Mimi gave them a firm handshake that was returned. Desideri was wearing too much cologne.

  She next turned to the stunningly attractive woman a step behind, who had been studying the introductions. She was about the same age as her own mother. Peter Hoaglund cleared his throat and began.

  “This is Felicia Menendez. She’s with the State Department,” he said, his voice breaking like a youth.

  “I’ve heard glowing things about you, Mimi,” Felicia boomed. “Glad we get to meet.” She gripped Mimi’s hand and shook it furiously.

  In the presence of such beauty and feminine confidence, Mimi felt self-conscious of her plain attire designed to downplay some of her curves. The woman from State was dressed in a midnight blue tailored suit, accentuating her slim waist and thighs as well as her doe-like ankles atop four-inch shiny navy-blue heels. Her blonde hair was dark at the roots and spun into an attractive French twist, with shaggy bangs framing her pale pink face. She polished off the look with bright red lipstick. Her hair and face were the only parts of her that appeared out of control, but everything else was stealth, muscled and perhaps dangerous. Even her squinting smile made Mimi’s pulse race, as if Ms. Menendez didn’t want to waste a crease in her otherwise flawless face. As a mature woman, she was hotter than D.C. summers in July. Mimi noticed she made the men nervous.

  The woman was a predator.

  “Thanks. I’m sure my students don’t share the enthusiasm, but I’ll take the compliment anyway. So what brings you to room 402?”

  Hoaglund suggested they sit, so several of the desks were moved into a fan shape—the three of them arched and facing Mimi’s single desk like it was a firing squad. Now she knew for certain this had something to do with Georgette.

  While Ms. Menendez scanned every square inch of the classroom walls, acting uninterested in the conversation, Hoaglund began the discussion.

  “We’re here about the president’s daughter, Georgette. I’m not sure what you’ve been told—but—”

  “Yes, what have you been told, my dear?” Ms. Menendez asked like a hot knife through soft butter, her focus unwavering. Hoaglund was noticeably surprised but didn’t interrupt the exchange.

  “Well, just that she wouldn’t be in for a while. It was very vague. Usually, I get notice, at least a week or two, but in this case, she just didn’t show up that next day, and I was told mid-morning she wouldn’t be attending for some time. Something about a last-minute trip.”

  “Who told you it was a last-minute trip?” Ms. Menendez asked, her voice rushed and holding a twinge of irritation.

  “My principal, Dr. Andrews. That was a week ago now.”

  Menendez turned to Hoaglund on her left. “Why wasn’t she interviewed immediately?”

  Before the Special Agent could answer, Mimi answered. “I was. Someone from the White House came to get her assignments, and asked me questions about Georgette, her studies, and how she’d been doing. If there was any particular part of her school work she was having trouble with, that sort of thing.”

  “She should have had a form
al interview, not just surveillance,” replied Agent Desideri. The two others nodded their heads.

  “Surveillance?” Acid was brewing in the pit of her stomach.

  The pause was painful. She looked between the faces of all three of the representatives, and Mimi knew she wasn’t going to like what they told her next.

  “We have a situation here. The Department wanted to work out all the details before we made our plans known. But, Mrs. Wagner, Georgette Collier is missing, and we’re assembling a team to help get her back.” Agent Hoaglund’s face was icy cold and white with fear.

  “Missing? You mean kidnapped?”

  “Maybe. That’s what we’re trying to determine. She may have left of her own accord, and then met up with undesirables. We need to keep this quiet, and we’re only telling those people who are involved in the plan to find her.”

  “So why are you telling me, then?”

  The three of the visitors didn’t smile as they watched her begin to understand what they’d come for.

  Chapter 3

  “So, Garrett, we’re going to be joined in a few by some VIPs,” Commander Branson said as he returned from the outside office, checking his backwards-strapped analog watch. He slapped some brown folders down on the table. “I’ve got about an hour to go over what I know and give you an update, and then we’ll get further instructions from the surveillance team.”

  “Surveillance?”

  “Yes. This is about Georgette Collier. We call her Sorrel, and she’s missing.”

  “The president’s daughter?”

  “The very one. We’ve managed to keep the press out of it, so far. But that is likely to change. That’s why you haven’t heard it before.”

  “Makes no difference to me. I don’t watch the news,” Garrett announced. His mind devised the questions he needed answered quickly, already working out a template of a plan, and who he would need on his team.

  “She took off sometime between the end of school on the fifth and the morning of the sixth. Her detail was to take her home. It’s a gated, private Academy—”

  “Washington Academy?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “I know how it works. So how did she manage to get out?”

  “We’re going to get that briefing when the others arrive.”

  “This your op?”

  “No, Tierney, this is one hundred percent yours. And that’s what I have to talk to you about. You’re our first for this new Bone Frog Command. I can’t tell you how much is riding on your shoulders. If this goes bad, our whole command could be S O L.”

  “Fuck, Comman—Branson. You had to start with me?”

  “No, actually, we were going to start with another type of mission, but this came up. They’d been working on this team for awhile. Then they drew me in, and when this happened, I told them I had the man for the job already and that there was no reason to delay.”

  “So she’s been gone a week.”

  “Nearly. We were doing very low-profile checks, double checking her detail, looking for someone or something out of the ordinary. We discussed her home patterns with the White House staff. But it’s like she just created this departure all by herself, just discovered a hole in her protection team, used it, and got out.”

  Garrett knew the young girl probably saw it as breaking free from prison, with the weight of the public eye on her constantly. And her decisions hadn’t caused it. Her parents’ had. He knew it would be a grinder for a young kid, especially a young girl.

  “You going to be advisor on this, though?”

  “You report to me. But it’s your gig. And in case you’re thinking about it, this isn’t something you can say no to. I told them to come on over, so no backing out.”

  “No worries there. I said I wanted in. I meant it. I’m just trying to figure out who we’re going to need. The most obvious thing we need is someone who knows her well. Like very well. She have a confidante?”

  “We’re working on that. She’s been a handful for her parents and the White House domestic staff. She flirts with anyone she can get away with, and we’ve had some transfers because of it. Nothing has happened as far as we can tell. She’s allowed a computer but with some very strict procedures she appeared to be following. She’s just a teen. Sixteen years old. Boy crazy. She’s got friends, but she likes the boys. For all we can tell, she thinks this is just some great lark.”

  “Jeez. The president must be beside himself.”

  “He is. So is the First Lady. She’s a ball-buster.”

  “Oh, I get it. I remember an assignment over in Africa when she was visiting villages there right in the middle of a military coup. Freaked all of us out. She pulled the same thing on us. I’m guessing she’s told that story to her daughter.”

  “Unfortunately, it fits the pattern. So you see what we’re up against? These people want to live a normal life—doing crazy stuff, on occasion—and we’re supposed to keep them safe. If there’s any loss of life, it’s supposed to be us, not them, that pays. But anyone who works around the State Department or the White House understands this and has to be okay with it. Like sending a bunch of incredibly well-trained young men into a hellhole and expecting them to pull off something a whole Marine division couldn’t accomplish, without harming any innocents. But we did it, didn’t we, Tierney? We were those guys”

  “We were.” Garrett indulged in the pride he had for his brothers and the SEAL community, who were generally quiet, did what it took at whatever cost, most times without much of a thank you and no knowledge from the general public. This was the same thing.

  “You ever meet them?”

  “Met her in Africa, once, as I said. He was a Senator back when I met Presodemt Green at Connor’s service.” He chuckled.

  “I fail to feel the joke here, Tierney.”

  “Man, the instructions I was given to tell to my little platoon before the service read something like what Admiral Nelson had tried to instill on his troops in Antigua. Something having to do with if they let their eyes roam, they’d all go blind with a pencil stuck in their eye sockets.”

  Branson cracked a smile too.

  “Sorry, Si. You know how those things just pop into your head at the wrong times.”

  “I do. And the Mrs. is hard not to stare at. I get it. She likes it that way.”

  Garrett shook his head. “She sure does.”

  After a brief pause, Branson steered them back to the mission at hand. “We okay here, Tierney? With Connor’s death? Understand it was one of the reasons you left the Teams.”

  “We are. It’s past history. All my boys were focused on the send-off, on the widow and the kid. They loved Connor—”

  Garrett breathed in several times before he could continue. He was back in control now.

  “Connor was one of those guys who was legendary, you know? After that, and even after my promotion and distance from the active theater, I still couldn’t imagine doing anything without him. We were each other’s backup.”

  Branson leaned forward. “I sure as hell remember that. Everyone who knew him thought the same.”

  “So, let’s talk about the structure. I get to pick who I want?”

  “With approval, yes.”

  “Whose approval?”

  “Mine. Unless something begins to go sideways, or they hear something they don’t like. You’re going to be watched, Tierney. And there will be some who get an inkling but are not in the loop, and they’ll be jealous. You know how these things go.”

  “Don’t remind me. It’s where all our fuckups came from. Politics.”

  “Exactly. So, as long as you and I stay tight, and we’re completely honest with each other, every aspect of the mission will be directed and controlled by you, until you prove you can’t handle it. If this one goes well, you’ll be finding some good employment for some other former Commanders who are being considered for new missions coming up. Might even be a place for you in the future here, running these teams. But no pro
mises. This is a one-off. So, you fuck it up for you, you fuck it up for several others of our brothers. That won’t make me happy.”

  “I won’t be military, then? I’ll be DHS?”

  “Yeah. If you’re lucky, you get to double dip.”

  “Like that’s important.”

  “I knew that too. So, Garrett, let’s go over some deets. I’m sure you got a ton of questions. Write them down here.”

  Branson shoved a white-ruled notepad across the table and tossed him a pen.

  Garrett began to draw a grid. “Okay, so we need to know what she was doing the few days before she disappeared. Who was the last to see her?”

  “As far as we know, her teacher.”

  “I’m sure you’ve inspected the videos at the school?

  “She doesn’t show up on any of them after she left class. That’s the funny part.”

  “She must have had help. The teacher?”

  “No, I don’t think so. In fact, we’re going to have her on the team. She’s been briefed this morning, too.”

  “Don’t trust her, yet, but I’ll play along. Not sure I want a female on my team.”

  “You said you wanted a confidante.”

  “Yeah, someone who stays at home and keeps her mouth shut.”

  Branson leaned back and crossed his arms. “You never got married, did you, Tierney.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “This is a mission. This is real life. Marriage? That’s a fantasy.” He believed every word he uttered. Marriage was a fairy tale mothers told their daughters. Garrett believed marriage had no place for a man of action. There was only one master, and that was his Team, to his brothers, to the mission at hand. Everything else was expendable. He didn’t want to get an innocent involved, someone with soft feelings. It made things more dangerous.

  “Look at me, Tierney. I still believe in love. I also believe in second chances. Nothing can’t be fixed if you got enough grit and love and some of that ‘don’t quit’ attitude we were trained for. Some stresses can’t be overcome by everyone. No harm, no foul. My wife had to get out of the pot before she melted. It was the right thing to do at the time. Didn’t make it easy, but it was something I’m glad she did now. We’d have been miserable the rest of our lives if she’d kept everything inside, ‘shut up’ as you say, and tried to stick it out.”