Page 16 of Defended By the SEAL (HERO Force #10)

Tom headed to the office to “take care of a few things,” while Charlotte made a beeline for the living room. She peered behind her to make sure he hadn’t followed before entering the room and announcing, “I’m going to check out the lighthouse.”

Cowboy sat beside Grams, who appeared to be sleeping. “Are you crazy?” he asked. “It’s horrible out there right now.” He’d spoken softly, his words barely audible over the howling wind that rattled the windowpanes.

“There’s somebody out there. I saw a light.”

Cowboy’s gaze turned sharp, his eyes narrowing with focused concern. “From the lighthouse? I thought you said no one’s been in there for years?”

“That’s what I thought, but I saw a light—clear as day. It wasn’t the normal beam, though. It was flickering like the one I told you about when I was a kid.”

He stood and crossed to her. “I’m worried about Grams. I think something’s wrong. Really wrong.”

Charlotte was at her grandmother’s side in an instant, feeling the other woman’s face with the back of her hand. “She’s doing better.”

“I don’t mean her fever. She woke up just now while you were upstairs, saying things that didn’t make any sense about people being cold and hungry. She kept asking for Tom, then when he came in, she freaked out like she didn’t remember who he was.”

What would cause her mental state to deteriorate like that? “He brought her a cup of tea about an hour ago. Do you think he could have given her something that confused her?”

“I don’t know. That guy is sketchy as fuck, and I don’t like it. We should stay together, especially if there is something more sinister going on with your soon-to-be step-grandpa.”

“Ew, don’t call him that.”

“Sorry.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that we need to see what’s in that lighthouse, Leo.”

He shook his head. “It’s a bad idea. Either it’s nothing, in which case you shouldn’t go at all, or it’s something, in which case we should stay put until backup arrives. Either way, the answer is the same.”

Gram’s weak voice said, “Go.” Charlotte turned her head to find her grandmother’s eyes open, but bloodshot and fixed on her. “You have to go to them.”

Charlotte ran her fingers through Grams’s hair. “I will, Grams.”

“It’s so cold out there. The baby must be freezing.”

“She’s delirious,” Cowboy said quietly.

The corners of Charlotte’s mouth pulled down hard. She wanted to tell Cowboy he was crazy, that Grams was sharp as a tack, but that clearly wasn’t the case. Her grandmother was an elderly woman who’d been through a stressful ordeal. She’d nearly died.

“You stay here with her,” Cowboy said. “I’ll go check out the lighthouse and see what I can find.”

Charlotte felt her heart pound as she considered staying here with Grams and Tom, alone.

The idea made her feel vulnerable in a way she didn’t want to admit.

But there was more going on here than met the eye, and somehow that lighthouse played into it.

She took a steadying breath and nodded. “Be careful.”

“You, too.” He leaned in, his gaze meeting hers. “Lock the door behind me and keep an eye on Tom. Don’t let him near her, if you can help it. No more of his special tea. Hell, you stay away from him, too.”

She squeezed his hand, unable to say more as he bundled himself into his coat and they moved toward the door.

The freezing wind rushed inside the moment he opened it, stealing the heat from her skin.

She watched as he disappeared into the blinding snow, his figure vanishing almost instantly into the storm.

Swallowing hard, she bolted the door and turned back to the dim, fire-lit room where her grandmother lay, seemingly asleep but thrashing her head back and forth on the pillow.

Charlotte kneeled beside her, taking the older woman’s icy hand between her own and feeling an uneasy chill sweep over her.

Sweat glistened on Grams’s forehead, her breathing fast and ragged.

Charlotte knew Grams needed rest, but she was hardly restful now, and Charlotte couldn’t stand to see her that way. “Grams? Can you hear me?”

Grams’s eyelids fluttered, but the look in her eyes was distant, clouded. “They’re out there,” she murmured, her voice wobbling and weak. “They’re waiting, hungry and cold.”

“Who’s waiting, Grams?” But Charlotte didn’t seem to have Grams’s attention. It was turned inward, as if she was dreaming while awake.

“I need Tom. Tom…” Her eyelids closed gradually, though she continued to mumble incoherently.

Charlotte stood, a fierce surge of anger rising within her. She wanted the very man who’d likely made her this way. He’s given her something, had drugged her somehow, and while she didn’t know exactly what he’d done, she was determined to find out.

Steeling herself away, she rushed to the office, but he wasn’t inside. She found him in the kitchen, his back to her as he rinsed a teacup in the sink.

She felt a spike of panic.

He turned slowly, the dim candlelight across the room casting shadows on his face that seemed to deepen the hollows of his cheeks, making him appear almost spectral. “Can I help you with something?”

She forced herself to hold his gaze, even as her skin prickled with unease. “What was in that tea you gave Grams?”

He gave a half-smile, reminding Charlotte of the iconic theater masks, one smiling while the other wept. “Earl Grey,” he said. “It’s a favorite of mine. I thought she might find it calming.”

She took a step forward, refusing to break eye contact. “I’ve had Earl Grey before, and that’s not what it smells like.”

He raised an eyebrow, setting the empty cup on the counter with a deliberate slowness. “Stress can make our senses play tricks on us. And this storm—” he gestured to the window where the snow lashed against the glass, “—it’s enough to make anyone jumpy.”

Her eyes darted to the sink where he’d emptied the tea, his movements careful and measured, as if he’d known exactly what she’d come in here to ask. Her hands clenched at her sides as she fought to keep her voice steady. “I want you to stay away from her.”

He straightened, his gaze turning stony. Despite his next words, his tone was most definitely threatening. “Why would you ask that of me? I love your grandmother.”

She kept her tone as even as she could, but her hands were shaking. Something about this man drained her of her natural chutzpah and made her downright scared. Why had she insisted someone go to the lighthouse? Cowboy’s suggestion that they stay together now seemed like the definite way to go.

“First, you go through my things.” He pushed off the counter and moved toward her with a slowness that was unnerving.

She took a step back, lifting her hands and holding her palms toward him. “Grams asked Cowboy and me to bring those boxes to the attic.”

“Then you accuse me of hurting her.”

She took another step back. Challenging him certainly wasn’t working, and she chastised herself for thinking her assertive approach could have gotten her anywhere. What did she expect him to do? Confess to adding mind-altering substances to the orange pekoe?

She had to do something.

A light bulb went off in her brain, the lessons of her youth coming back in a rush. She softened her mouth and opened her eyes wide like a doe. “Please, Tom. I’m just so worried about her.”

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, encouraging her to continue. Closing her eyes, she brought the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I can’t believe I accused you of putting something in her tea.” She hit herself in the head three times, saying, “Stupid, stupid, stupid Charlotte!”

Had she gone too far with that one? She didn’t need to win an Oscar here, she reminded herself. She just needed to convince him she was an irrational female who was easier to placate than argue with—and women had been doing that since the dawn of time.

Letting her arm fall to her side, she was relieved to see him gazing at her like a benevolent despot listening to a peasant’s plea. “I just want to be the one taking care of her,” she said. “Did she tell you I almost went to nursing school?”

“No.”

She knitted her hands and stared at the fingers she’d woven together. “I wasn’t good enough at math.” When she looked up again, his expression had grown faintly amused.

“I think you’ve done a fine job taking care of her, Charlotte, and I have no problem with you continuing to do so.”

She held her breath as he brushed past her, his footsteps receding down the hallway toward the office.

The second he was gone, she darted to the sink, searching for anything that might give her a clue about what he’d given Grams. She found nothing but the faint, lingering odor of something bitter and metallic.

Her pulse raced as she returned to her grandmother’s side, taking in her ashen face and labored breathing. “No. You can’t get worse.” She couldn’t shake the feeling that time was slipping away, that whatever Tom had done was taking a more sinister toll on Grams than they’d initially realized.

She kneeled by her side, trembling as she took her hand once more. “Grams,” she whispered. “Hang on. I’m here, okay? Just hold on a little longer.”

Her gaze fell to the window, her worry for Cowboy intensifying as the storm raged on.

She pictured him out there, trudging through the snow and ice to the lighthouse, his face set with determination.

No matter what happened between them, she knew without a doubt that he loved her.

Her free hand slipped to her abdomen as questions swirled in her mind.

She hoped Cowboy would find answers and come back with some clue about what was happening on this island, some insight into Tom’s mysterious intentions.

And, just as much, she hoped he’d come back safely.

She squeezed her grandmother’s hand, whispering promises of the future—promises she desperately hoped she’d be able to keep.