SEAL Love's Legacy (Silver SEALs Book 1) Page 5

  She’d dreamt of this reunion in a hundred different ways. But when he looked up at her, all of them faded into the ether. What was the same was the way her heart thumped in her chest, the her neck tingled, her fingers pulsed, and her eyes filled with tears.

  Yes, she was scared. But it didn’t have anything to do with the mission.

  Chapter 5

  “Hey there, Mrs. Wagner.” He stood, looking for the agents who were supposed to bring her. “Where are the Cub Scouts?”

  “They’re bringing in my things. Going through them, first, just like you asked.”

  She raised her chin to accept his reaction. Her defiant stare signaled he’d been right about the strength of her emotional sinew. She was measured, unwilling to take wild leaps, and he knew this mission wasn’t anything she ever thought she’d be involved in.

  Makes two of us.

  “It’s protocol,” he tried to say casually, but the truth was, she made his pulse thump. She didn’t deserve to be handled roughly. He knew plenty of women who liked it that way, but she was definitely not one of them. He needed to be careful or slip her off the team quietly, for her own safety. That would cause a shit-storm with the White House. Last thing he needed was an altercation with the First Lady or her best friend. He wanted to keep both women as far away as possible. So for now, Mimi Wagner stayed. Besides, from what he’d read, she’d already been through a lot with the loss of her husband.

  “Look, Mrs. Wagner—”

  “If I’m not to call you anything but Garrett, I guess you should call me Mimi.”

  “Duly noted, Mimi. I do it out of deference to your husband, an old habit. I just read this morning that—”

  “About a year ago, thank you. But I’m fine. I get the body language and the lingo. Although, my husband wasn’t like any SEAL I’d ever met before. And I’ve met a few.”

  She was studying him closely, and that put him on alert. “Still, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  The young agents burst through the doorway. “Where do you want these, Commander?”

  “I’ve just been reminded we’re to stop doing that. So, stop it, or I’ll get you on someone else’s detail.” He settled his breathing then fisted and unfisted his hands while he waited for them to realize the blunder they’d made. He’d left them speechless, so he started in patiently.

  “If everything’s okay, you can put those upstairs in the bedroom with the flowered wallpaper.”

  He thought he’d get a rise out of Mimi if he followed that comment by wiggling his eyebrows, and he wasn’t disappointed. The two agents tore up the stairs, rattling the windows, as if they were ten years old and it was a race to get to the toys.

  “Thank God they didn’t find my Glock, and I don’t have the nursery,” she answered. Her mouth was twisted. He could see she was having a hard controlling a budding grin.

  Good for you. You play nice, but you are firm. And you have a sense of humor. I like that. And I’ll watch how I behave.

  “I hope you’re kidding, but should I search you?” The thought thrilled him.

  At first, with her look of panic and her eyes growing nearly the size of her glasses made him think perhaps he’d run into someone who had a phobia about men touching her. That would be just his luck. She was hard to figure out.

  “Okay, now I’m kidding,” he reassured her.

  One of the things he noted after he directed her to sit across from him was the way she moved and the size of her bust, along with the incredible way she smelled. A woman’s flowery, feminine smell—that combination of face cream, shampoo, and perfume—he always found disarming.

  Most women thought they had to show cleavage or good legs or heavy shadow on their eyes—which made them look, at least to Garrett, more Goth or drugged up than anything else. There was nothing more alluring than the woman’s flowing clothes, layering and pressing around her hips, her waist, and pulling up at all the right places with a tease she had no idea she was tempting him with. He also liked that she didn’t look threadbare, have that hard-and-often-ridden look of a dangerous, uncontrollable woman.

  Damn, he was getting turned on at a very inconvenient time. He decided he needed to open the door to understanding her, her background, and what she was all about. And he had the right, as well as the desire, to do it too.

  “So, Mimi,” he said with a bow-like gesture as he sat, “your Academy file is sorely missing lots of detail.” He examined a file in front of him. “You’re a widow and married a SEAL who was training to deploy. So, you know a lot about our community, as you’ve said.”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes bored into him. He thought he caught a sparkle in one corner, as if something had made her tear up.

  “I know this type of discussion can be hard, but we’ve got to get to know each other well if we’re going to work together. It needs to be almost symbiotic. If you’re uncomfortable with that, you need to let me know.”

  “Being honest?”

  “Yes, be totally honest with me.”

  The boys came downstairs. Garrett handed them some money from his pocket and a list.

  “There’s a store about two miles north. You passed it. I think you can get everything there.”

  “When will the others be arriving?” Desideri asked.

  “Undetermined and not appropriate to ask yet. So, get on your way.” As an afterthought, he added, “And don’t forget the receipt, gentlemen.”

  They both darted for the door. Desideri paused to ask a question of Mimi. “Ma’am, do you need anything special at the store?”

  “I’m fine. Maybe some waters?”

  “Plain, mineral? Fancy?”

  “Plain is fine.”

  “You got it.”

  They slammed the door behind them, which left the cold interior of the huge house and just the two of them to fill it. Knowledge, understanding, and cooperation would be best. But anything to eliminate the vacuum.

  He crossed and uncrossed his legs, picked up the lined tablet Branson had given him. “Now you were about to be honest with me. Tell me about yourself. They’ll be providing me with a file, but I’d like to hear about you with your own words first.”

  She ran her fingers through her mahogany hair, which was long but curly, held with a clip she removed and then replaced. He liked the look of it long during those brief seconds and decided not to hold back on the smile to show her so.

  She was scowling when she removed her large, oval glasses and wiped them on the edge of her skirt between her thumb and third finger. She looked out the large dining room window into the woods, deep in thought. The silent view the trees resembled large overstretched ghostly shadows. Dusk was upon them. It felt like the witching hour.

  She angled her head, holding her glasses in her right hand, and then peered across the coffee table at him, leaning forward. Her eyes looked familiar, but he knew he’d have remembered her if they’d ever dated. Mimi was a diamond in the rough, a beautiful, unspoiled specimen of feminine strength. When he was younger, she would be just his type. Her face was peachy and fresh, and he had the overwhelming desire to kiss her. If this was a date, he’d have done it by now. But this was no date.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” she whispered, then put back her glasses, blinking as she did so.

  Garrett suddenly felt himself turn red. Something inside him had blown up. Had he slept with her before? He was sure he’d have remembered. His confidence oozed right out of the bottoms of his shoes.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t believe we’ve met. Correct me, if I’m wrong. And, if so, I’m very, very sorry.”

  “You have nothing to feel sorry about. I told you I knew a lot about Navy SEALs. As it turns out, you knew my dad.”

  Panic started to constrict Garrett’s chest. Had he been hitting—okay, not hitting, but thinking about hitting—on the daughter of a buddy? Holy smoke. Talk about going from bad to worse!

  “Who is your dad?”

/>   “Connor Lambert.”

  He shot up, screaming, “No! You’re the—the—daughter.”

  “Margaret. Yes, Dad used to call me Maggie. I decided to leave that for him and changed my name to Mimi afterwards. But I’m Margaret Lambert.”

  Garrett stared down at her like she was an injured dog he needed to treat. He’d violated her already with his stupid, disgusting behavior.

  “Maggie—Margaret, sorry, Mimi. I’ll honor that. Look at you!” He didn’t know what else to say. It wasn’t appropriate to tell her she’d grown up a stunner, that with her braids and braces gone, she was a thoroughly mature, attractive young woman. And the spitting image of his best friend, Connor. That’s when he realized those eyes of hers that he thought he recognized were indeed the eyes of that fourteen-year-old girl who’d just lost her father. The young, fragile girl he’d held in his arms and wished he could give some comfort. He’d thought about her and her mother and wondered what had become of them. He’d heard rumors of her mom. But he’d always wanted to know how they fared. He’d been too removed to know about Mimi’s husband.

  He came around the coffee table and held his arms wide, not wanting to step on anything that smacked of something inappropriate. He was asking for permission to give her a hug.

  She stood and stepped carefully to him, leaning against his chest with her head staring down at her feet. That’s when his arms encircled her, hugging her tight against him, his hands holding her head tenderly. “God, I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”

  The two of them swayed together for several seconds. He felt like he’d captured a big, beautiful but wounded exotic creature. It had been a long time since he’d shared any of his private grief with anyone else who felt the same way.

  But now, what about the mission?

  He separated them at arm’s length, gripping the top of her arms.

  “You can’t be here. They should have—”

  “Garrett,” she said as she stepped back two paces and found a safe space to stand. “I’m the only one I think she’ll listen to. I don’t care what that—that woman has to say, Georgette’s not close with her parents, especially her mother. Anything that comes from them, won’t be trusted. But if something’s happened to her, I can identify her. I can identify her out of a crowd, in a hospital, in disguise, or—God forbid—in a morgue. I can tell if it’s her on the phone, or if her text message is legit. I don’t think even her mother could do that.”

  She was right, but the added burden of their shared grief and past, made this a very bad idea, Garrett realized.

  “I just don’t know. We’ll have to tell them, Branson and the president, of course.”

  “Of course. If they want me off the team, so be it. It’s your call. No hard feelings either way if the answer is I go back to teaching. This isn’t what I do. It’s what you do, Garrett. If it was my dad standing here before me I’d say the same thing. You gotta do what you gotta do for the Team, like always. If I’m in the way, I go home.”

  Garrett wanted to reassure her—but he wasn’t positive he could trust his feelings yet. After all, the decision could be out of his control, despite what they’d told him.

  Mimi began to pace the floor, turning here and there to add emphasis to her thoughts. He followed every movement she made like he was her student.

  “Meanwhile, instead of talking about me, why don’t we talk about you, Garrett? If that’s too personal, we can talk about Georgette. I can tell you everything I know about her. I’m here to help. This isn’t a camping trip, like one of your boys reminded me. There’s a lot at stake.”

  He liked how she thought. She had the same calm logic that he’d relied on with Conor at his side. He knew she was concerned for Georgette, and this was definitely not an arena she was comfortable in, but she was able to work through those emotions and get to the point.

  God, how he loved women who could just get right to it.

  Keep it straight and narrow.

  “Go for it, Mimi. I’m listening.”

  “I don’t know how your normally do things, Garrett. And maybe I don’t fit in, or get to stay, but I’m here to help however I can. I’d like to see her back safe and sound. There are a lot of things that could happen to her, and I’ve read enough books to imagine hundreds of ways this could end. Most of them are not very happy.”

  She definitely was an asset. He decided to stop fighting himself, and start using what she had to offer. She was completely right.

  “Can I ask you a question first?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She gave him a timid smile.

  “When did you know?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Know who I was.” He watched her eyes widen and her mouth open with surprise.

  “You haven’t changed a bit. I’d have recognized you thirty years from now. I had a lot of time to think about it. And I had all afternoon to figure out how I was going to approach you, because I wasn’t sure you weren’t playing with me. I just didn’t think this ‘high level’ group,” she said using her fingers as quotes, “wouldn’t have figured it out first, and that bothered me. So that should tell you how well they’ve vetted everything, including your helpers here. A lot can happen in a week. Something’s wrong.”

  Again, she was smartly assessing their situation. And she’d successfully steered the conversation away from the interpersonal cloud that still remained between them. He hoped trusting her intuitions wouldn’t wind them into some unforeseen danger. But he wanted to in the worst way.

  “So, what do you think happened?” he asked.

  Mimi hesitated, putting her fingers against the glass on the window overlooking the woods.

  “She spent a lot of time texting boys, sending pictures, but they all do that.” She turned to face him. “I didn’t worry about it because I was reassured her phone had security locks on it, so only ‘vetted’ –there’s that word again—people could contact her.” She smiled, looking down at her feet as she leaned against the window sill.

  “Go on.” He liked watching her talk.

  “Somehow, she found a way to get free. I think that’s all she wanted, a little slice of a normal life somewhere. I don’t think it has anything to do with politics or even her parents. She wanted to take back her life.”

  “So, you think she initiated this, then?”

  She nodded her head. “My hunch is yes. Or at least it’s a theory we have to explore.”

  Mimi was way smarter than he’d given her credit for earlier. Her in-depth assessment of their target was just as detailed as some he’d received in the theater by well-trained, seasoned CIA operatives.

  “Unfortunately,” he answered softly, “she has no idea what the real world is like or how much danger she’s in.”

  Her honest gaze let him know she understood completely. They were both on the same page, finally.

  “It’s the same problem with all celebrity kids. I had three whole classes with them and got used to dealing with their parents, who had enough money to buy whole countries, or start a revolution. It was hard telling their parents they needed to check on their kid’s homework, even though their company was in the process of being overtaken in a hostile bid, or their country was at war.”

  He considered all this, forming a grid pattern in his own mind. He began to fill in the boxes that had question marks in them earlier. It was too soon to show her. He hoped she’d make the team, because he knew she’d add a lot.

  Of course, there was that personal angle. He trusted her. He knew he’d do everything he could to protect her too. But who was going to protect him from his own heart? He knew the signs, and he was going to try to stuff those thoughts down. And what would he do if DHS said the mission was scrapped or they needed to put someone else in charge because of that history?

  It was going to be one of those days when the next few hours would mean success or failure. He definitely had a preference. But it wasn’t entirely his decision.

  After dinner, Garre
tt took a call he’d requested from Branson.

  “We have a complication, Si.”

  “Already? Shit, you don’t like the house? The Suburban doesn’t have enough gadgets?”

  “I need you to know that Mrs. Wagner is really Connor Lambert’s daughter.”

  “Christ in a handbag.”

  “How did that slip by, Silas?”

  “Now you know what we’ve been working under. Some of our intelligence gathering is grossly mis-named.”

  “So how accurate is your intel if you don’t even have the right deets on the potential team?”

  Silas let out a gasp he’d tried to hide. “Well, she’s still the one who has most the information on Sorrel. That part you’re not disputing, are you?”

  “No. That part’s fine. More than fine. She’s a good source and she’s more stable than I thought originally. Now that I know where she comes from, it isn’t a problem for me, but I wanted you to be aware.”

  “Go with your gut. I’m not taking this up the command.”

  “You sure about that? This could be a trap.”

  “Hell, if it’s a trap, we’re all fucked, Garrett.”

  He hung up the phone and lay back on his bed, knowing that if he didn’t keep himself in check the complication could become a major snake pit.

  God, he hated snakes.

  Chapter 6

  Mimi had a fitful night. She knew it would get resolved in time, but the added pressure of the minutes ticking away made her crazy. In addition, adrenaline created by her excitement at seeing Garrett again, and perhaps being able to be a part of his team, didn’t give her room to sleep. She wanted to impress him, and that made her uneasy. She didn’t want to try too hard, but found the more time she spent around him, the more comfortable and surer she was about what she was doing. She hoped he felt the same.

  She’d moved to D.C. to get away from all the SEAL stuff. But here she was, again, immersed in it up to her eyebrows. Except when she was a child, when her dad went off to parts unknown, she’d know practically nothing about the mission or even where he was going. She did remember the way he’d take her in his arms, be gentle until her shaking body calmed, and promise everything was going to be okay. He’d whisper instructions about listening to her mom.