Page 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Preacher felt nauseous. He hadn’t felt this way since the first day of BUD/S. He’d talked to Kevlar. Then Dude. And finally Tex. Now he was pacing one of the conference rooms on base, waiting for the rest of his team to arrive. It probably wasn’t the best place to meet, especially if Maggie’s ex really was Rear Admiral Roman Robertson, but the room was secure. It had to be, considering the missions that were planned in there.

Everyone he’d talked to had been utterly shocked to hear that Rear Admiral Robertson was the man Maggie claimed was her ex. The man who’d thrown her under the proverbial bus. Who was currently threatening her with a return to prison.

Preacher didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it. And yet, even though all his friends had agreed with his skepticism…a niggling doubt lingered .

Maggie had sounded so sure. And he couldn’t shake the look of betrayal and sheer disappointment in her eyes when he’d said she was wrong. When he’d instead suggested her ex was actually impersonating the rear admiral.

What if she was right and he was wrong?

It would be a huge scandal for the Navy…and every mission the SEALs had been sent on—all of them, not just his team—would be scrutinized to make sure they were legit. The ramifications of the rear admiral possibly sending SEAL teams out on missions for his own agenda would be far-reaching and long-lasting.

Not to mention the drugs and the threats against Maggie. If it was true, if he was Maggie’s ex, there was no telling how many other women he’d conned, or was currently conning. Leading on. Using.

Hence the nauseous feeling in Preacher’s gut.

The door opened and Kevlar entered, followed by the rest of his team.

Smiley didn’t beat around the bush. “Is it true? Is Rear Admiral Robertson Maggie’s ex?”

“That’s what she says,” Preacher answered.

“Fuck,” Blink muttered.

“This isn’t good,” MacGyver added.

“Not good at all,” Safe agreed.

“Everyone take a breath. There’s a chance someone out there is impersonating the rear admiral,” Kevlar said.

“How much of a chance?” Flash asked.

Kevlar sighed. “Twenty percent? ”

“ Fuck ,” Blink said again.

Twenty percent.

Preacher pressed his lips together. He’d fucked up. Big time. Maggie was never going to trust him again. He’d just gotten to the point where he felt good about how much she’d lowered her shields around him. And after this morning…he’d never felt as close to another human being in his life. And he’d gone and ruined it.

“Have you talked to Tex?” Safe asked.

“I called him. He’s looking into it,” Preacher told his friends. “I also called Dude and got his opinion on this entire fucked-up situation.”

“And?” Smiley asked.

“He was stunned. At first said there was no way. But I guess after we hung up, he thought about the situation some more. Rang me back and said now he thought there was a possibility it could be true,” Preacher said with a sigh.

“What convinced him?” Smiley asked.

“I have no idea. He mentioned making a few calls, then said that he didn’t think Maggie would lie about something as serious as this. Especially since it would be easy to prove or disprove who her ex was.”

“So now what?” MacGyver asked.

“I think I need to talk to Maggie again. Get as much intel from her as possible. Then we go to the top brass here on base. And NCIS. Get an inquiry started,” Preacher answered .

“The second Robertson finds out he’s being looked into, she’ll be in danger,” Blink said.

“She’ll need to have someone on her twenty-four seven,” Flash agreed.

“And her probation officer will need to be informed of what’s going on. In case Robertson retaliates by trying to set her up again,” Safe agreed.

Preacher loved these men. Loved that their first thoughts were about Maggie. Not about how fucked up it was that they’d been sent on missions that might have been bullshit. A thought struck him then. “Blink, that mission where your team was ambushed…do you think…was that…” He couldn’t even finish the thought.

Blink stared at him, living up to his nickname by not blinking even once. “If he was behind that FUBAR’d mission, I’ll fucking kill him.”

Preacher wouldn’t blame the man. He’d lost some very good friends in that clusterfuck of a mission. Not to mention how he’d been sent back to Iran with another SEAL team…was someone trying to get rid of him too? The only other witness to everything that had gone wrong on the earlier mission?

“I think this solidifies our guess that we were likely sent to that fucking ship when we weren’t needed on purpose, huh?” Smiley asked no one in particular.

“I need to call Maggie,” Preacher said, having an almost desperate need to talk to her. They’d left each other on a not-so-great note that morning. Pulling out his phone, he was surprised to find a message from her, forgetting that he’d put his phone on do-not-disturb for this meeting. Blocking out his friends’ heated discussion on whether or not Rear Admiral Robertson was responsible for their last mission, Preacher brought his cell up to his ear.

He didn’t smile as he listened to Maggie’s message, but he was relieved. He liked that, even though they’d had a disagreement, she hadn’t hesitated to apologize for lying to get him to leave. He needed to do the same. Her need to be rid of him was mostly his fault. If he’d been a little more open to the possibility of who her ex was, things wouldn’t have escalated to the point where she’d felt she needed some space.

Knowing she’d recorded her ex’s phone call made him extraordinarily proud. And he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought about having her ID her ex in photos.

He immediately clicked on her name, needing to tell her right that second that he was sorry for how things went down too, and he and his team would keep her safe while an investigation was opened into Robertson. But his call immediately went to voicemail. Which was odd. In all the time he’d known her, which admittingly wasn’t that long, her phone had always been on.

Looking at his watch, Preacher wondered if she’d decided to go into My Sister’s Closet for a few hours, after all . He was about to call Julie and ask if Maggie was there, and if he could speak to her, when Kevlar asked about Maggie’s message. He told his team about her recording a phone call from her ex, and that she was willing to give him the address where he’d lived before she was incarcerated .

Then Preacher’s phone rang. Glancing at it anxiously, he saw it wasn’t Maggie calling, much to his disappointment. Tex’s name flashed on his screen instead.

“Tex, hey,” Preacher said.

“I’m guessing your woman isn’t lying,” Tex said, not beating around the bush. “I admit I was highly skeptical at first. I mean, a rear admiral isn’t exactly someone I’d suspect of being a drug dealer or sending an innocent woman to prison. But the deeper I looked into the man, the more I dug up.”

“Hang on a sec,” Preacher said, putting his phone on speaker and telling his team what was going on. “Okay, go ahead. We’re all listening,” he told the computer genius.

“Right, so it took a bit of serious work—some of this stuff was buried deep —but I found that the esteemed rear admiral definitely has some skeletons in his closet. For instance, Roman Robertson isn’t his real name.”

“Holy shit, seriously?” Kevlar asked.

“Seriously,” Tex confirmed. “He didn’t go to college right after high school either. Instead, he spent time in Chicago…and he was married.”

“Really?” Flash asked, frowning. “From what I’ve heard, he’s a die-hard bachelor. Always has been.”

“Can we go back to what his real fucking name is?!” Kevlar protested.

“He was married for two years. Before his wife disappeared,” Tex said, ignoring Kevlar as he dropped the next bomb on them.

Preacher sucked in a breath .

“What the fuck?” Blink said what they were all thinking.

Tex went on. “Records state they had an argument, and the next morning, Robertson woke up and she wasn’t in their apartment. There was no sign of her. Her car was in the parking lot, her purse, keys, money, it was all still in the apartment. The door was unlocked and there was no sign of any kind of altercation inside. Robertson was considered a suspect but was never charged because there was no evidence of foul play. There was no evidence he was involved in her disappearance at all.

“After that, he moved to the East Coast and went to college,” Tex continued. “I compared the prints the cops had on record when his wife went missing, and from the Navy when he joined, and lo and behold…they matched. Bartholomew Jones became Roman Robertson.”

“Hell, I’d change my name if it was Bartholomew,” Smiley said snarkily under his breath.

“What else?” Safe asked.

“You’re assuming there’s more?” Tex said.

“A man doesn’t go from a grieving husband—assuming he was even worried about his wife’s disappearance—to where he is now without a whole lot between the two,” Safe said confidently.

“You’re right. I tracked his naval career, and everywhere he was stationed, there were drug charges against men working under him. Every time, he came out smelling like a rose. I tried to look for money trails, to see if he’d paid people off, but too much time has passed to know for sure. Not to mention, he’s probably smart enough to use cash, not write a fucking check or electronically transfer money to someone for any evil shit he wants done.”

“Anything on Maggie’s situation?” Preacher asked.

“Nothing concrete, but one of the officers who pulled her over did a stint in the Navy. And guess who his commanding officer was…”

“Fuck,” Blink growled.

Preacher normally would’ve grinned at the stoic SEAL using his favorite curse word over and over, but there was nothing remotely funny about this situation.

“I’m guessing he’s been using subordinates as mules. To move his drugs from one place to another while he rakes in the profits. He fucked up with Maggie though. He got personally involved, used one of his girlfriends as a courier, and she got caught. He probably thinks she’s the only person who can bring him down. Military subordinates have as much to lose as he would, so they’ll keep their mouths shut. But Maggie has no reason to stay silent. Hell, she tried to tell everyone the drugs weren’t hers. Robertson probably assumes she’s going to keep trying to get someone to believe her…and eventually she’ll succeed. He doesn’t want that to happen under any circumstances.”

“What next?” Preacher asked. Guilt filled him. Maggie had tried to get him to believe her—and he’d failed her. And he was at a loss as to what he, or anyone, could do to help Maggie, now that it seemed certain Robertson was indeed her ex. He couldn’t be by her side every minute of every day, and he had a sick feeling that anyone who tried to help her would find themselves in the crosshairs of the very powerful rear admiral. And there was no way Preacher wanted to put Wolf or any of his team, along with their wives and families, on Robertson’s radar.

Any more than they might be already.

Before Tex could respond, Kevlar’s phone rang. Then Safe’s, Smiley’s, and the rest of the teams’ cells. Looking down, Preacher could see an incoming call on his own screen, as well.

“Fuck!”

That time it was Kevlar who swore.

“What’s happening?” Tex barked through the speaker.

Kevlar had answered his phone, and they all heard him as he responded in clipped tones to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Yes, Sir. I understand. Right now? Do we have time to go home and talk to our families? Right. Thirty minutes. They’re here, I’ll let them know. Aye-aye, Sir. Out.

“We’re being deployed,” he announced as soon as he hung up, not making anyone ask what the hell was going on. “Right now.”

“It’s him,” Preacher said, feeling sick.

“We don’t know that,” Kevlar argued, but the uneasiness was clear in his tone.

“The hell we don’t,” Preacher retorted, raising his voice.

“I’m on this,” Tex said. “If this is a bullshit deployment, I’ll get it rescinded. And if I can’t do that before you head out, I’ll get you home as soon as I can. ”

“I need someone to have Maggie’s back,” Preacher told the older man.

“I’m on that too,” he promised.

But Preacher wasn’t reassured. He felt helpless. And pissed off at the world. “I need to call her.”

“Understood. Do not lose your focus,” Tex warned. “Keep your mind on your mission. That might be the toughest thing you’ve ever done, under the circumstances, but if you don’t, I can’t bring you back from the grave.”

Preacher took a deep breath. Safe, Blink, and Kevlar were on their phones, probably talking to Wren, Josie, and Remi. His other three teammates were staring at him, arms crossed, scowling.

“Right. I know.”

“I’m on this,” Tex repeated. “If Robertson is sending your team on bogus missions, he’s fucking done . If he was behind Maggie’s incarceration, he’s going down. I’m going to dig so hard and deep, he’ll definitely feel like he’s been fucked.”

Normally, Preacher would’ve at least chuckled at the innuendo coming from the usually serious Tex, but he didn’t have it in him at the moment.

“Call her. Tell her to stay on her toes. And let her know that I’ll be calling and that I’m going to want a copy of that phone call she recorded,” Tex ordered. “Stay safe. I’ll be in touch.”

The second Tex hung up, Preacher clicked on Maggie’s name and brought his phone to his ear. Once more, the call went straight to voicemail. Dread made bile rise in his throat as he hung up.

“She’s not answering?” Smiley asked with a frown.

“No.”

“Call back and leave her a message,” MacGyver ordered.

Preacher nodded, but he had a bad feeling about this entire situation.

“Maggie, it’s Shawn. I…fuck. Shit is fucked up here. We’re being sent out again. Now. And you aren’t answering. I hope like hell you’re all right. I’m so sorry about this morning. I should’ve listened to you more. I believe you. I’ve got people on this. Someone named Tex is going to get a hold of you. He’s literally the smartest man I know, and if anyone can help us, it’s him. He’s going to want that recording you told me about. It’s okay to send it to him, I swear. Be safe, okay? I have a bad feeling in my gut, and when a SEAL says that, it’s never good. I’m going to keep trying to get a hold of you, please answer. Even if you’re still mad at me, I need to know you’re okay. It’s too soon for this, but fuck it. I’m falling in love with you, Maggie. And if anything ever happened to you…Right. Okay, I have to go. But as soon as I get back, I’m locking us in a room—yours, mine, doesn’t matter—and we’re going to figure this out.”

He clicked off the message, not wanting to say goodbye. That felt too final. Too much like some sort of damn foreshadowing.

He hadn’t noticed that everyone else had left the room to gather their gear for deployment, except for Smiley.

“If this is him, he won’t get away with it,” the other man promised.

Preacher wanted to nod. Wanted to agree with his friend. But he was afraid he was wrong. Robertson was getting away with it already…whatever this was. The rear admiral was separating Maggie from her support network—him and the rest of the SEALs. Yes, she still had Wolf’s team, but she didn’t know them as well as she knew Kevlar, Safe, and the rest of the others. Preacher wasn’t sure she’d call Dude or Wolf if something happened.

“He’s underestimating us,” Smiley said. “He’s going to find out what happens when he gets an entire community of badass Navy SEALs riled up. When we get back, we’re going to shake the trees…make sure every SEAL, active duty or retired, gets involved. Like Tex said, he’s going down, Preacher. Mark my words.”

Of that, Preacher had no doubt. He just hoped it was before he managed to ruin any more lives than he had already. Namely, Maggie’s.

Maggie groaned as she tried to turn over—and realized almost immediately that she couldn’t really move. She was lying on her side and her hands were restrained behind her, making it extremely uncomfortable to lie the way she was, and there was something wrapped around her head, over her mouth. She worked her jaw back and forth…Tape. It was tape, pulling at her skin. Worse, she was in the dark. She could see tiny bits of light coming through what was obviously slats, making it clear she was in a box of some kind. But otherwise, it was pitch black.

It was also weirdly silent.

Tipping her head against her shoulder, Maggie felt something in her ear. Shit…had someone put earplugs in her ears? Panicking now, she frantically tried to rub her ears against her shoulders, the boards beneath her…anything to remove whatever had been stuffed inside. But it was no use.

She was essentially blind, deaf, and mute.

Whatever was happening wasn’t good. Not at all.

Furrowing her brow, her head pounding, Maggie tried to remember how the hell she’d ended up in a box . She’d been in her apartment when someone had knocked on the door. She’d thought it was Shawn, coming over to talk some more. Assumed that he’d gotten the message she’d left for him and had come straight over.

Instead, it was a stranger. A man she’d never seen before. He was big. Way taller and heavier than she was. He’d grabbed her around the neck the second she’d opened the door. She’d had no time to react, to kick him in the balls. The only thing she’d been able to do was grab his hands, trying to get some air into her lungs. But she failed .

She must’ve passed out…and now she was here…wherever here was.

All of a sudden, the box she was in began to sway. Maggie was almost hyperventilating now. It was hard to only breathe through her nose with the tape over her mouth. She couldn’t really see through the slats, and she couldn’t hear anything going on around her.

The box swayed for several minutes, until the movement suddenly stopped. Then the box felt as if it was dropped none too gently. The pain in her hip reverberated throughout her body. She groaned, but the sound only echoed in her head because of the noise-canceling plugs stuffed in her ears.

The box shook as what she could only guess was more containers were placed on and around it. The reality of her situation began to seep in. She was as good as dead. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t eat, she couldn’t call out for help. There was no place to use the bathroom. After three days without water, she’d simply fade away.

Would Roman go this far to shut her up? Probably. He definitely had the connections. He didn’t even have to get his own hands dirty. He just ordered someone to kidnap her and stuff her in this box. There was no telling where she’d end up at the end of her journey.

Shawn’s face popped into her head then, and sorrow hit Maggie hard. He’d never know how much he meant to her. Their last words were said in anger and frustration…at least on her part. He was literally the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she’d never get a chance to tell him .

Tears filled her eyes and dripped onto the wooden planks beneath her. This was it. She was going to be just another missing woman. People might wonder where she’d gone. Her probation officer would think she ran off, maybe to Mexico. There would be warrants for her arrest, but she’d never be found.

Shawn would probably think that since he hadn’t believed her about Roman, she’d left him and gone into hiding.

Well…maybe, maybe not. She had left him that message. Maybe he’d find her computer and the recording of the call with Roman. Maybe there’d be a huge investigation and he’d eventually be found guilty. There would be a special 48 Hours TV show on everything that happened…and it would end on a fucking cliffhanger, because while Roman might be convicted, which would be tough without her body, she’d still be missing.

Wanting to laugh hysterically at the ridiculous thoughts running through her head, Maggie sighed. Whatever Roman had in store for her, it probably wasn’t a slow, relatively painless death from dehydration. No, whatever he had up his sleeve would be hell.

Trying to ignore the pain coursing through her body—her neck where Gigantor had strangled her, her hip, her shoulders from her arms being wrenched behind her for so long, her hair and face because they were both being pulled from the duct tape, and several other places where she was sure she’d have bruises from being manhandled—Maggie closed her eyes.

Maybe if she slept, she’d wake up and this nightmare would be over.