Chapter Sixteen
I could never understand men who didn’t listen to their internal antennae. Any soldier who’d seen combat would tell you it was usually the difference between life and death. The mind lies. The eyes lie. Your heart—well, it doesn’t lie—it betrays, and that’s why in dangerous circumstance you have to ignore it.
But that thing we call “instinct” or that feeling, it’s never wrong. It only fails us when we don’t listen.
A simple maxim I’d trusted my life to in all situations—the hairs on my neck and the sensation in my innards wouldn’t steer me wrong—yet a week after Lee departed, my insides were in total disarray as if my frequency were out of whack and unable to pick up anything clearly.
My belief that Lee was embroiled in something dangerous hadn’t ebbed. My reluctance to have Ella in the middle of it was alive and well. My determination to stay north was flailing because the tally of my ever-present concerns added a new one: being apart from Lee while he was determined to do whatever he was doing was not only the wrong move for him, but the longer I stayed away from him the stronger the relentless assault warning grew that I was betraying the things I held dear.
Duty.
Loyalty.
Serving and protecting.
Family.
Love.
Maybe it was because we were trying to carry on normally, even though Lee and I were living thousands of miles apart. We talked every day, an improvement over the status of my first week at Patricia’s, and in fact, he was phoning home every night with a regularity that was unlike Leland. We avoided inflammatory subject matter during our discourses, not an improvement since it kept the stalemate alive between us. And we had healthy doses of FaceTiming that usually ended with cybersex watching each other relieve the angst in our dicks.
In many ways, we were living a life I’d seen a thousand times in the field with my men. Deployed in a war zone and trying to keep one foot still in the mix at home. Strange, but that’s what it felt like. Or rather, what Leland’s conduct through our physical estrangement seemed to me.
It was two weeks after Patricia’s party, and I stretched back on my bed for a fast nap in the afternoon, stared at the ceiling, and sank my fingers in my hair. I was tired of my internal conflict—a state I’d never known before—and tired of endless hours of thinking without solutions coming my way.
And I was tired of feeling I was where I had to be—yes, I was more certain than ever that keeping Ella from Mexico was imperative—and not being where my gut told me I needed to be: in Mexico protecting Lee’s back.
After punching my pillow, I turned on my side and closed my eyes. I just wanted some fucking sleep and a few minutes of not thinking.
A screeching grarararara sounded from the driveway and I covered my head with my pillow.
GRARARARARA…
Yep, Patty, keep grinding that starter in the car that I told you to have checked. Much better plan to try to muscle it into working than taking it to the shop.
GRARARARAR…
Fuck!
My one hour to myself during the day to get a little shut-eye, and now was the time Patricia decided she needed to drive somewhere. Drive somewhere?
I shot out of bed because Mom was supposed to be babysitting, and her leaving the house with Ella without me was verboten. Damn it. Patricia knew that. I’d laid down that law day one.
Covered only by my Calvin’s, I hotfooted it out front.
GRARARARAR…
I hurried around the car and tried to open the door—locked—and instead rapped my knuckles against the window.
Patricia crinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. Did we wake you?”
I ran a hand through my hair, willing myself calm. “No. Who could sleep through that racket? I told you to get the car checked.” I arched a brow. “I also told you that you can’t leave the house with Ella without me. What are you trying to do, Mom?”
Her mouth puckered with a slight downturn and her eyes filled with laughter. “Oh, Graham, your rules are silly. Girls need freedom. I raised you and you’re alive and well. I think it’s safe for me to take Ella all by myself to the mall.”
She laughed, shook her head, and started back up trying to get the engine to turn over.
I reached in and took her keys. “This car isn’t getting you anywhere today.”
“Then lend me your car?” she suggested efficiently.
Hell no. Mom in a compact was a nightmare. Not letting her drive a full-sized fully armored SUV. She could take out half a city block the way she drove and be on the six o’clock news before dinner.
I opened her door. “Out. No shopping today.”
Ella leaned around Patricia to stare up at me with her amber doe eyes. “Poppy, I want to go shopping with Grandma. I don’t want to stay home another day.”
Great, now I had two sets of pleading eyes staring at me like I was being a ridiculous prick. I stared back. They didn’t relent. I grimaced. Battling one of them was difficult enough; together they were unbeatable.
“Fine. Let me get dressed. We’ll go together.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Patricia announced, and the way she said that made me suspicious that was her plan all along.
She climbed happily from the car and reached back for Ella. “Graham,” she groaned, giving me a sharp once-over with her gaze. “You really need to stop going out front wearing only your boxers. I know times have changed, son, but they haven’t changed that much. Double-time it to your room and throw some pants on.”
Ella’s giggling was sweet. Mom’s lecture annoying, though it wasn’t worth pointing out that I wouldn’t be in the driveway in my boxers if she’d let me sleep and followed SOP.
“Wait inside while I put on my clothes, Mom.” I shut her car door, picked up Ella, and gestured Patricia toward the house.
Ella looped her arms around my neck. “I’m glad you’re going with us, Poppy. It’ll be fun.”
I smiled. Fun. Not my word for it. And I’d given up at trying to nix the Poppy thing from Ella, because in truth, I loved her calling me that. She couldn’t have been more my daughter if I’d made her myself.
I kissed her cheek and set her on her feet in the living room. While the mall was the last place in the world I ever wanted to be, I was going.
As I went down the hall I ticked off my never list that, since Ella, had become a frequently do list.
Chucky Mouse—nope, never wanted to go there.
Disneyland—hell, that was awful.
Playing Barbies on the floor.
Those animated flicks Patricia and Ella watched endlessly. Yep, I pretended to like those, and they were better than the Lifetime movies.
Shopping—horrible activity to consume time, but I fell in on those forced marches, too, with a smile on my face.
I was laughing by the time I closed my bedroom door behind me. I’d become a man with a daughter and nothing on this earth was undoing that.
Five minutes later I was clad in jeans and a shirt, gun clipped on my belt hidden beneath the hem, backup piece strapped to my leg, and enduring the endless ritual of leaving the house with my two girls even though they’d been on their way only minutes ago.
It seemed an intermission made it start at square one: last bathroom break; checking to make sure they had everything; checking each other to make sure they looked all right; then finally, slowly meandering to front door, glancing around making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.
Crud, it was just the mall. We weren’t going to the White House for dinner or anything. Why did it have to be such a production?
I already suffered my first fray of nerves and I’d only gotten so far as holding open the passenger door for Patricia. Combat didn’t put me so quickly on edge as getting my little family into the car in the driveway.
I needed a nap.
This was a mistake.
Why was I doing it?
“You OK, Graham?”
Patricia’s voice snapped me to attention and I knew why. “Yes, I’m fine, Mom. Move your leg so I can shut the door.”
“Oh.” She laughed and held her body in a cute tight posture and waited with impish eyes to let me know she was ready.
Clank.
Door closed.
First mission accomplished.
I allowed myself one cleansing exhale and then lifted Ella and set her in the backseat. “Sit in the middle so I can see you at all times, and buckle up.”
She rolled her eyes and nodded. That made me smile. I closed the door and ran around to climb into the driver’s seat. “Usual mall, Mom, or are we going somewhere special today?”
Patricia giggled. “The Promenade and I know you really aren’t a fan of shopping, so we won’t be long. Ella just needs some new shoes. You boys need to be more on top of her growing feet. Kids grow out of things fast. But you’re a great son to do this with your mother.”
I pulled out of the driveway. Damn. That easily Mom seized the initiative and she’d get me to do whatever she wanted the rest of the afternoon. Won’t be long? Not buying it. She was going to drag me from store to store for hours and probably would want to top off the day with dinner at Chucky Mouse.
Well, it could be worse. It could be Disneyland again.
I merged onto the clogged freeway and headed toward The Promenade as the girls vivaciously chattered back and forth over the seat.
The day unfolded as I expected. Remember, some things you just know. It was three hours into rummaging through stores and we didn’t have shoes purchased for Ella.
I lifted a pair. “What’s wrong with these?”
That earned me twin awful expressions.
“Poppy, no.”
“Graham, be serious.”
“I am being serious. We’ve looked at a hundred pairs of shoes. All good. What’s wrong with these?”
“Everything,” Patricia announced, taking hold of Ella and hauling her off to yet another store.
I stared at my mother, confused, because I was. They were exactly like the pink Sketchers Ella was wearing. How could they be wrong?
Patricia glanced at me, biting back a smile. “They’re too expensive and she already has a pair exactly like them. We’re looking for something special. Something new. Something that will say wear me.”
I made a face. “You’re looking for talking shoes?”
She rolled her eyes and swatted my arm. “You’re so impatient when you’re hungry.”
Oh no—
“Let me pop in here,” Patricia announced. “I know we’ll find something here, then we can see about getting something for you to eat, Graham.” Her loving gaze shifted to Ella. “You’re not too tired to go to Chucky Mouse, are you, dear?”
Yep—I called it. Chucky Mouse.
“No!” Ella exclaimed excitedly.
And that excited no sealed the deal. There wasn’t any way I was changing the trajectory of this day.
I glared at the wide double doors opened to the store. I couldn’t take one more. “I’m going to wait outside, Mom. I need some fresh air.”
Patricia nodded and it looked like she was happy I wasn’t joining them this stop. “It’s a beautiful day. I love these outdoor malls. So California with the sunshine and the fountain and the palm trees—”
“Mom, let’s finishing our shopping so we can eat and get home.”
“OK.” She planted a kiss on my cheek and whizzed away.
Thirty minutes later I was still leaning against the walkway rail, waiting for them. To keep myself from losing my shit, I focused on surveilling the scene. There was constant diversion moving back and forth before my vision from the center of the mall.
Overdressed women.
Underdressed girls—crud, I’d never let Ella leave the house looking like that. Hell no.
Ridiculously dressed everything.
Ah, a hot man.
Gay?
Probably not.
Who cares? Not interested.
Vendor carts. Mall cop—one glance—positive, not ex-military and has never pulled his gun. Security cameras at regular intervals.
Hot dog stand. Five feet away if I hopped the wall.
Hooah.
The girls would still be in my line of sight. Didn’t want to lose Patricia here. I could be back before they knew I’d gone AWOL, and Mom was right. I was hungry and it did make me grumpy.
I went to the stand, ordered a hot dog and kept my eyes trained on the shoe store for a Patricia sighting.
“You want another?” the man asked.
Ah—Mom wasn’t done yet.
“Yeah. Load it up this time. Don’t be stingy with the cheese and onions.”
I swiped my credit card to pay and did another fast scan of the terrain as I waited for my Super Dog. My gaze locked on a grouping of men, and everything in me turned upside down in a sensation similar to that one you get when you play which one doesn’t belong at the moment of aha and you see it.
Only I wasn’t feeling it like it was a game.
I was feeling it the way I did on deployment.
Nothing about the four men stood out to me except that I’d seen them already once today.
Hispanic?
Nothing troublesome. Not a shocker. Not in California. Why did they bother me?
Gangbangers, maybe?
Don’t jump to conclusions, Graham, I chided myself since there was nothing to indicate that they weren’t merely local young men. But there was no denying something about them was off.
I tossed my dog into the trash without eating it and went back to the wall, jumped over it, and positioned myself behind a post in the walkway near the shoe store, holing up to figure out if I was needlessly panicking or if my instant reaction was on target.
“Graham, what are you doing?” I shifted my gaze to find Patricia staring at me dumbfounded and holding Ella’s hand. “You’re not trying to sleep standing up propped against a pole, are you? OK. I get it. You’re tired. One more stop then food. I promise.”
I skipped over that and frowned. “No shoes?”
She crinkled her nose. “Nothing good. There’s one more stop. End of the mall. No success, we’ll go somewhere else tomorrow.”
My gaze did a fast sweep of the area again. My group of men had moved…where? Where? Oh, behind the hot dog cart. And I could feel it—they were watching us.
“No more stores, Mom. We’re getting out of here.”
“Ah, no, we’re not.” She pointed at a sign. “Right there. Ten feet away. That’s where I want to go. It’d be foolish to quit now.”
“Mom, no—”
I didn’t get to finish. Even hauling a little girl with her, Patricia hotfooted fast when she was determined.
Damn it.
I followed them at a fast clip, cutting through the crowds, my insides jumping but my exterior calm in control. By the time I caught up, they were in the store already.
And eyes had moved with me. Yep. Hairs on my arms standing up equaled my being watched.
I pretended to rummage through the outdoor rack of clearance shoes. When I moved to the other side, I rapidly searched for the men.
My heart stopped.
They’d split up. One at twelve o’clock. One at three. One at nine. One near the walkway three stores down on the other side of the wall from me. I noted a not-very-well-concealed gun. Oh, fuck me…men with guns meandering in a shopping center and in attack formation…cartel?
Ella?
Oh Christ—if they were cartel foot soldiers they were following Ella. A kidnapping? They were positioned to overtake me and get Ella.
I studied the scene as I set down the shoe I’d picked up. We were blocked in. There was no way out except through one of the men.
“I give up, Graham,” Patricia exclaimed. “You can stop searching the sale rack. I wasn’t going to buy my granddaughter anything on close-out anyway.”
“Can we eat now?” Ella whined.
“Of course.”
I moved my body between Ella and Patricia, and the men. They were moving in and there was no time to call the police. It’d be over before anyone answered 911 and it wasn’t like that fucking mall rent-a-gun was going to be any help.
“Graham, what’s the matter with you?” Patricia asked, bemused.
“Take Ella back into the store, get as far back as you can, and cover yourself.” My eyes darted from target to target. I saw a weapon in the hand of the man in my peripheral and had only a split second to grab my Glock and tell my mom, “Take cover, Mom. Gun.”
My years of military training went into overdrive. In one move I shoved Patricia back into the store with Ella and took cover behind the wall. Once the bullets started to fly my brain merely tagged along.
Twelve o’clock. Bang.
Three o’clock. Bang.
Man near wall. Done.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Where did nine o’clock go?
Move, people. Move.
Bang.
I sank down behind the four-foot-high concrete wall again and waited. No more bullets. Holding my spot, I eased upward and rapidly scanned the center breezeway. Four bodies down. No collateral damage or injury. No more echoes of gunshots. Running footsteps and screams from the civilians rapidly clearing the hot zone.
Threat eliminated, but my pulse continued racing.
Patricia and Ella—were they OK?
I whirled toward the shoe store.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Patricia stood behind the display rack outside the doorway, peeking around the edge, and in her fingers was the mother of all fucking handguns.
“Damn it, Mom. I told you to stay down and protect Ella.”
Her eyes widened in that way that flooded me with dread. “That’s what I did, Graham.”
She motioned behind her and near crippling relief rolled down my body. Ella was in the drop-and-tuck position they used to teach us in school, close to Mom on the floor near Patricia’s sensible loafers.
“You all right, sweetheart?” she crooned, and Ella nodded but didn’t look up.
“Good girl,” Patricia murmured with approval. “You did exactly like Grandma taught you. That’s a good skill to know, useful for more than just earthquakes. Now you stay down until your dad tells you it’s all right to move.”
Dad—no, not going there.
Though Patricia’s stamina—and dexterity—to be aggravating in any and all circumstances was unbelievable.
“Are you OK, son? None of those bastards got you, did they?” she asked heatedly.
Was I OK?
Was she out of her mind?
Hello, I just killed four men in a shopping mall with a Smith-&-Wesson-strapped granny and a little girl on my team.
Fuck!
Breathing heavily to calm the last of the adrenaline rush robbing my limbs of oxygen, I planted my hands on my knees, tightly closing my eyes as I rapidly reviewed the status report compiling in my head.
Priority one: Ella was safe.
Priority worry: who the hell were those men?
Priority objective: How the fuck do I explain this?
Priority concern: Two minutes, no more, and the first responders would be here. That was when the real fuck-me nightmare would begin.
I lifted my face. “Mom, you didn’t shoot that thing, did you?”
Her brow crinkled like I confused her. “Of course I did. What a silly question, Graham. I’m the widow of a Marine. No one is taking my granddaughter from me without a fight.”
Oorah—not.
Oh crud.
Patricia just got herself a seat in the squad car beside me. That was if the Feds didn’t get their hands on us first. Then it would be a short trip in a windowless van to an undisclosed location and a room with a bright light.
Great, fucking great.
Mom’s day was about to get a whole lot more interesting and awful. I wondered if she knew that.
When I settled my gaze on Patricia, her face glowed with pride. “I’m a pretty good shot, aren’t I? See, I told you it would be fine to leave my Glock with me. You didn’t have to hide it in the gun safe. But I’ve gotta admit, I love my .44.”