Rogue (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 1) (9 page)

NASH FIGURED THEY would have found civilization by now.

He killed the engine again to bail. This was the third time he’d followed the routine and though it was getting old, it sure beat the hell out of traversing the swamp on foot.

Maisey had been asleep for hours, and he was glad. She’d been through hell and no doubt needed the rest. For a while, he’d bunked with her, but it was impossible to fully relax with one hand on his Glock and both eyes on the water.

Kicking himself for dumping that GPS, he’d gone old school and followed the North Star whenever the tree canopy broke enough to see it. Of course, he’d had swamp survival training, but this closed-in shit was no
bueno
. He’d spent the last decade either training at Little Creek in Virginia or using that training in a desert.

Leaving all that gear and food had been stupid. Why had he done it?

Sheer panic over the welfare of the girl who’d always held a special place in his heart. Practically their whole childhood, she’d been getting into messes that he’d helped her out of. The thought of her being held captive by Vicente was bad enough, but toss in that other set of random thugs and he’d been out of his freakin’ mind with worry—which he didn’t do.

Had never done before losing his wife and baby.

Which is part of what prompted the beginning of the end of his military career, and even his split with Trident, Inc.

He bailed faster and faster while trying to make peace with the fact that somewhere along the way, his feelings for his family had robbed him of the ability to detach. He no longer saw events unfold with clinical precision. Kill or be killed. Not only had his own mortality come into play—fear for how Hope and his future son would manage without him—but fear for how he’d manage without them. When that worst case scenario had come true, the bottom of his world had fallen out from under him. He’d been left with no true north. Ironic, considering that was the path he had now been literally forced to follow.

“Nash?”

He stopped mid-bail to go to Maisey. “What’s up?”

“Are we sinking?” The moonless night made visibility far less than ideal.

“Not at the moment. I’ve got us parked on a hammock. Our friends shot-up the hull pretty bad, and we’re taking on water. I’ve been stopping to bail.”

“You should have woken me. I would’ve helped.” She hugged herself from the night’s chill, then seemed to fuss with her position.

“Everything okay? You look uncomfortable.”

“I am.” She rubbed her lower back. “I’ve got some cramping, too, but it’s probably no big deal.”

He groaned. “I’ve got to get you out of here. If only I knew where
here
actually was. Vicente’s place was thirty-six miles as the crow flies from Green Fork, but his land borders the Everglades. I thought we were on a main channel, but it petered out. We’ve passed a couple fishermen, but I’m hesitant to flag anyone down for fear of them having connections to Vicente.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“Everything. If I had done what you said back at Vicente’s compound, we’d have already been safe.”

“True, but don’t blame yourself. These kinds of situations are highly fluid—and I’m not just talking about all the freakin’ water in this boat.”

“Ha ha. I know. But I can’t help feeling responsible. I wish I’d never met Vicente.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have your baby.” He eased alongside her on the vinyl bench seat, turning her back to him so he could rub her tight shoulders. “No matter what, your little boy is going to be worth it.”

“Vicente was happy for a son.” Her voice barely rose above the frogs and cicadas. “He needs someone to carry on his family name. It’s an obsession.”

That explained a lot.

“At first, I felt sorry for him, but the further along I got in my pregnancy, the more demanding he grew. He isolated me and then locked me in my room. Like that wasn’t bad enough, lately, he’s been even worse. Cuffing me in my bed, and having his private physician examine me at the house.” She bowed her head. “I’ve been so naïve. I honestly believed that as long as I was pregnant, he would never hurt me. That if I did as he said, as soon as I had the baby, I could either get help or make him see reason. His actions didn’t make sense. I loved him. I . . . was a fool.”

“Hey . . .” Nash pulled her back against him, kissing the crown of her head, more determined than ever to see her and her baby safely through. “Love makes everyone do crazy things. I know it did me. Once Hope told me she was carrying our baby, I became a different man. I didn’t know I was capable of loving that hard. I loved those two so much that it became a liability. In the field, my every action was based on the likelihood of whether or not my team and I would make it out alive. No matter what, I had to survive for Hope and our future child. But when I heard they’d died in the fire, I lost it. I wanted to die—to be . . . with them.” His throat was so tight, the admission barely escaped. But at last, his truth had come out. What had he been doing back in Jacksonville all these months? Essentially, trying to die, but being too much of a coward to properly do the job.

“Oh, Nash . . .” Her voice caught.

At some point while they’d talked, Nash had slipped his arms around her, resting his hands on her baby bump. She placed her smaller hands atop his, easing her fingers between his, and suddenly he was no longer alone, but once again part of a team. Like back in high school, Maisey and him against the world.

She raised his hands to her mouth, kissing the backs, and then turning them over to kiss his sensitive palms. She had no idea how much dirt Nash had on them—literally and figuratively. He tried drawing them away. But she held firm, refusing to let him go. “You’re done dying, Nash. I selfishly need you to live. If only I’d accepted your proposal all those years ago, just think of how different—how much better—everything might be now.”

“Yeah . . .” But in the same respect, if that meant never having met Hope, or watching his child grow inside her—virtually erasing them from his memory—that was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d vowed long ago that if he couldn’t die and be with them, at the very least, he’d never be with another woman.

No matter how glad Nash was to be reunited with Maisey, he had no intention of breaking that vow.

MAISEY WOKE FROM a deep, dreamless sleep to find herself still cradled in Nash’s strong arms, with the sun peeking over the horizon. They faced a vast sawgrass prairie. After having spent hours breaking free of the tangled jungle, so much open space felt exhilarating. It didn’t matter that they still might be miles from civilization. That also meant they were most likely miles from Vicente and those other horrible men.

She held her breath through another cramp, reassuring herself that it was normal. That it hurt less than the ones she’d had last night.

Finding Nash again changed everything. Being with him made her feel like that grinning schoolgirl he’d rescued by the swings. With him by her side, she could soar to impossible heights. Nothing could bring her down.

In the night, he’d wanted to push forward, but she’d fought him. They needed rest, and so he’d let the back down on the bench seat, forming a surprisingly comfortable bed. Nash piled three life jackets atop one another to make himself a pillow, and Maisey used his chest. The air had still been stagnant and hot, and the bugs ridiculous, but secure against him, none of that mattered. She blocked everything but how safe and precious he made her feel.

The night they’d first made love had been the same.

Looking back on it, their union had been such a high school cliché, but she wasn’t complaining.

Stroking the coarse hair on Nash’s forearms, Maisey closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her face, letting memories take hold of the present.

“Sure about this?” Nash cupped her face with his hands, brushing her bottom lip with his thumb.

Maisey nodded. They stood outside their room—lucky 777—at the Holiday Inn where they’d danced the night away at their junior prom. Her mom thought she was spending the night in the suite Maisey had chipped in on with a bunch of her girlfriends from choir. She’d never before lied to her mom and felt terrible about doing it now, but obviously not bad enough to step away from the guy she loved.

He lowered his lips to hers, still holding her face, kissing her as if she were a fragile, precious flower.

She kissed him back harder.

The two of them had been together forever. Officially, since he’d asked her to be his girl on Valentine’s Day when they’d been in eighth grade. They’d fooled around a lot over the years, and honestly Maisey was hungry—starving—for more.

Giggling, high on the vodka her friend, Delia, had snuck into the dance in a pink flask, Maisey took the card key from Nash’s back pocket and slipped it in the lock. The light flashed from red to green. She opened the door with one hand and grabbed Nash’s arm with the other. “You brought the condom, right?”

“Yeah. I got a jumbo pack in case we wanna do it all night long.”

“You’re crazy,” she teased, using his tie to pull him toward her while the door slammed closed. “Oops. I didn’t know it would shut that hard.”

“Doesn’t matter.” They fell back into another kiss.

The hotel was new and according to the manager, they were “still working out the kinks”, which was why the prom committee had been able to afford the ballroom. It was super fancy with swirl-patterned carpet and massive crystal chandeliers. Their private room was equally as nice. They hadn’t turned lights on, but outside their seventh-floor window, all of Jacksonville twinkled.

“How do you want to do this?” Nash asked.

“I don’t know. You’re the guy. I thought you’d figure it out?”

“Duh. Like I know where to stick it, but do you want it on the bed or the sofa or what?” He looked as stressed as he’d been the first time they’d taken their ACTs.

“Could you relax? This is supposed to be fun.”

“I know. Sorry, but the room ended up costing like fifty bucks more than planned, and the front desk guy was all pissy ’cause I didn’t have a credit card.”

“It’s okay. None of that matters. I know you’re saving for college, so I’ll split the money with you. I want tonight to be special. Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Why else would we be here?”

“Exactly. So to answer your question, I think we should take a bubble bath together, and then do it on the bed. Sound like a plan?”

“I’m down.”

“Good.” She fumbled in the bathroom to turn on the light.

It was a beautiful space with fancy gold striped wallpaper and a marble countertop with the sink a square bowl that rested on top. The tub was oversized and perfectly white. The house she shared with her mom didn’t have a tub, so the only place she ever got to have a bath was at her grandma’s. Maisey didn’t see her all that often, so this was a big deal. Plus, her grandmother’s tub was pink and not very big and even though she used lots of bubbles, she could always still smell her grandmother’s Bengay.

Nash’s mom had offered to let her use their tub, but Maisey had been too shy.

She turned on the taps, adjusting the water so it was nice and warm.

She reached for the bottle of hotel shampoo to add, but then Nash said, “Wait.”

He left the bathroom, and came back a minute later with a big, pink bottle of bubble bath champagne. “Thought you’d like this.”

“I love it!” Grinning, she practically threw herself against him. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Maisey poured in a bunch of the strawberry-scented pink liquid, then they kissed some more before taking off their clothes.

It was funny, they’d seen parts of each other naked, but never all at the same time. Once Nash stripped down to his boxers and Maisey stood in her pink bra and panties, she wasn’t sure what to do next. Did she go all stripper and gyrate and stuff? Or would he take her stuff off? Was she supposed to remove his underwear? Who knew sex was so confusing?

“You’re, ah, really hot.” While staring at her boobs, Nash’s cheeks turned red.

“Thanks.” She crossed her arms. “So are you.”