Chapter 8
Gretchen awoke to the sounds of someone grinding coffee. She was naked and sweaty, lying on her side with her back to him. His arm was draped possessively over her hip, his hand gently squeezing her breast.
“Morning,” he whispered in her ear.
It was the perfect start to a new, sparkling day—something she’d dreamt about for several lonely years since her breakup with Tony. Getting hot and sweaty and being whispered to by this hunk of a man first thing in the morning was the medicine she’d needed.
She slowly turned to face him, their legs entangling again, as she hugged his thigh between hers. “Morning, handsome. I’m so grateful you showed me all those wonderful dance moves. The hip action and the—”
She gasped as his fingers pinched her nipple, and he pressed her onto her back and into the couch.
“You want some coffee?” he asked after he’d taken several deep kisses. The smell of their combined bodies made her drunk. She didn’t want to wake up, but knew they’d not have privacy for very much longer.
“I’d love some.”
He smirked, adjusting his muscled thighs and his other more delicate parts. Bending over, he slipped his pajama bottoms up over his hips and stood. Gretchen sat up, clutching the coverlet to her chest. She saw Coop’s wife, Libby, and her sister, Kate, busying themselves with breakfast preparations and cleanup from last night’s mini-party.
“Morning, ladies.” He gave them a wave. The two SEAL wives nearly jumped out of their skins.
“Were you comfortable last night, Trace?” asked Kate with a wink to her sister.
“Didn’t have enough room, but there were compensating factors.” He walked over to the countertop and poured a cup of black coffee. “Does she like cream?” he whispered in Kate’s ear, but Gretchen heard every word.
“You mean that Hawaiian princess you picked up at the show last night?” she teased.
“Yes, that one. Your beautiful sister.”
She broke out into a wide smile. “She does.” She cleared her throat while Trace foraged in the refrigerator. “Morning, sis,” Kate shouted to her.
Gretchen answered, “Morning, Kate,” from the couch. She attempted to stand up, being careful to keep the cover wrapped around her. Her nightie was draped over a lamp across the room and wouldn’t give her much privacy.
Trace studied her, his half-smile looking more sexy than he had a right to.
“I took advantage of her, I’m afraid, Kate,” he whispered as they both studied Gretchen’s face.
“I certainly hope so,” Kate quipped in return. “Either that or she’s coming down with a fever.”
“You going to stand there, or do I get my coffee?” Gretchen asked.
“Absolutely, ma’am. But it appears your hands are a bit full. Not that I’d complain if you had a blanket malfunction.” Trace grinned on his way over to delivering her steaming cup. “Need a little help?”
She tried to ignore him, which was impossible to do since she could feel his massive body heat through the blanket. The coffee was warm and smooth.
“Hmmm. Perfect. Perfect start to a new day,” she whispered to his tanned face just before she placed a soft kiss on his hungry lips.
“Don’t get me started.”
She smiled up at him again, took another sip, and traced his mouth with her forefinger. “I didn’t think you ever stopped.”
“You’ve only known me for—what?—a few hours, and already you have me pegged. Good job.”
“Trace.” She placed her forefinger into his chest. “You might think you’re a mysterious superhero, but I’ve got your number.”
He showed her his wrists like he expected she’d cuff him. “Beam me up. I’m all yours. You can ring my number all day”—he leaned in to whisper directly into her ear again—“and please, please, all night. I’ll be your slave. I take instruction well.”
Those words sent a zinger down her spine. She couldn’t look at him, so focused on his heavy breathing and how his maleness enveloped her in warm sunshine.
“You want your nightie? That see-through thing that drove me wild last night?”
There was no mistaking the bulge building in his red, white, and blue pajama bottoms.
“Please.”
She watched his bare back as he made his way over to the lamp. Kate and Libby were transfixed. Her sister’s eyes were the size of saucers.
Trace wrapped the nightgown around his neck like a scarf and returned. “Take it off me,” he said with a wink.
Gretchen had to address their audience, so changed the subject. “Coffee’s good, ladies.”
Libby approached and said quickly, “We’re about to have a whole room full of people here in just a few minutes.” She grabbed Gretchen’s nightgown and handed it back to her. “Why don’t you two take a shower before all the hot water is gone? The twins are not up yet, so now’s your chance. Trust me on this. I’ve traveled with them before.”
Gretchen donned her gown quickly and helped Trace fold the bedding and tuck it into the hall closet. They climbed the stairs together, but found the sole bathroom door locked.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” Linda said behind the door. They could hear sounds of a shower.
“Trace, you go downstairs and use the other one. I’ll wait until Linda’s done. I’ll meet you back down there for breakfast, okay?”
He reluctantly agreed. She knew if she let him, they’d have spent an hour fooling around and would miss breakfast entirely.
Not that it was a bad idea. But Gretchen felt like it was time to come up for air and start living in the real world.
Trace worried as he listened to Gretchen take a call from her oldest daughter. Everyone stopped eating and watched her happy expression turn from distress to outright fear and panic. Whatever was being communicated, it wasn’t good. He could barely hear the sobbing pleas for help.
“Clover, calm down. How did this happen?”
He could not make out all the words until he caught Clover’s words, “Three men showed up at the school while I was waiting for Joanie after practice, and they took me in a van.”
Kate flew to Gretchen’s side, holding the sleeping baby. The two sisters stared at each other in shock.
“Do they have all three of you?”
“No. Angela and Becky are with Gramma.”
Although Gretchen let out a sigh of relief, she was still very pale, and Trace thought she might faint. Then he heard a man’s voice come on the line. Trace grabbed the phone from her hands. Gretchen fell into Kate’s arms, and the baby awoke, startled.
“—And we have your oldest daughter. She is safe at the moment,” the man said in heavily accented Spanish, “and if you cooperate, all will end well.”
“Who the fuck is this?” Trace ranted to the phone.
“Ah, Señor, not necessary to use profanity. This only makes the Indians restless and we’re trying to conduct business here with Mrs. Sanders. You are her spokesperson?”
“Trace Bennett.”
“You are a friend of the family, Trace Bennett? Please put Mrs. Sanders back on the phone. With all due respect, señor.”
Everyone sitting at the large dining table stared at the three of them. Tyler took the squirming baby from Kate. Linda put her arm around Gretchen and kneeled at her side. Trace covered the mouthpiece and informed them, “They have Gretchen’s daughter.”
The room erupted in soft curses. Cooper stood and placed his phone to his ear. Trace assumed he was calling Kyle, who was still in Washington, D.C. Others called home to check on the safety of their own families and to alert the Team network. Gretchen was part of the SEAL community and would get their complete support. Though she lived in Portland, he knew it would be arranged that other members of the community would stay with her and give aid if necessary.
“Señor? I would like to speak to Mrs. Sanders, please,” the voice repeated.
Gretchen extricated herself from Kate’s embrace and reached for the phone, trying to grab it from Trace’s fingers. He held it just out of reach. Finally, she scolded him. “I need to talk to her, Trace. Give it to me right now!”
He handed the phone back. His blood boiled, and he struggled with the urge to rip the kidnapper’s arms off while he tore the creep’s jugular open with his bare teeth. On his feet, he started pacing and thinking, clenching and unclenching his fists. He was waiting for the cloud of emotions to subside and the clarity of a plan to emerge, but didn’t yet find any comfort or path. There were too many details he needed to ascertain. Coop had just finished his call and quietly appeared beside him.
“We get that number and I’ll give it to my NSA contact, Trace,” he whispered.
“Thanks, man.”
“Where are they?” Coop asked.
“I’m thinking Portland, but not sure.”
Gretchen was still listening to instructions. “H-how much of a little compensation is little?” Gretchen said bitterly, waiting for a response. “But I’m in Hawaii.” She was flustered, stammering. “I have to call my ex-husband. Where have you taken her?”
Trace gently gripped her arm, adjusting her wrist and hand to expose the phone number on the phone screen for Coop then pushed “Speaker” so the whole room could hear the conversation. He double-checked with her first, gave her a peck on the cheek, and she nodded her approval. Coop jotted a note and got back on his own phone.
The speaker crackled and squawked, “Like I said, Mrs. Sanders, she is safe and being watched over. She is being fed and given water, so no need to be concerned.”
Gretchen sucked in a breath and boomed right back at the man, “You fuckin’ better take very good care of my daughter, you animal!”
Trace was astounded.
The voice on the other end of the phone sighed. “Mrs. Sanders, like I told your friend, the use of profanity is not necessary. It is not our intention to hurt your daughter, Mrs. Sanders. We are looking for just our little transaction fee, and then we will be out of your hair. Your beautiful daughter will be returned to you unharmed and untouched. I give you my word.”
Gretchen’s body tensed as several Team members and their wives swore under their breath and whispered amongst themselves. Trace could see already a plan was being formulated. The distance was a factor, but they were used to four plus hour flights to an op.
Coop whispered to Trace, “Okay, I’m having the phone number traced. You want Libby to get you and Gretchen to Portland? She checked, and there’s a direct flight at noon you might be able to catch.”
“Thanks, I think that would be a good idea. I’ll pay you back.”
“Not a problem. We can tag along, too, if you want us to.”
“You got the ladies here, Coop. Not fair to have you do this.”
“No, Trace. You don’t understand. Maybe it was different on Team 8, but on this team, we stick together. If you think we’re in the way, we’ll not do it. But I don’t think it’s asking or expecting too much. You’d do the same for me; I know you would.”
Trace nodded and gave a brief smile to Libby, who got on her cell phone immediately.
Gretchen’s voice was getting shaky, and Trace could tell her emotions were confusing her. “I asked you before, how much? How much for my daughter?”
The voice paused. “One million dollars.”
It might as well have been ten million. Trace suspected this would be an impossible figure to come up with. The room was once again filled with whispered profanity. Gretchen’s breathing was irregular, her chest shaking with each inhale and exhale. He helped her put the phone down on the table and then folded her in his arms while they listened to the sole voice on the other end of the line through the speaker.
“I will give you one more chance to speak with your daughter, and then we will sign off for now. No tricks, please, Mrs. Sanders. You must keep the girl calm so I don’t have to sedate her.”
Gretchen leaned over the table and shouted into the phone’s speaker, “Don’t you fuckin’ touch a hair on her body! Let me speak to my daughter now!” She braced her weight with her palms on the table, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Just as she was about done with her exhale, she heard her daughter’s voice.
“Mom?” Clover’s weak voice broke Trace’s heart. “I’m scared.”
“Did they hurt you, sweetie?” Gretchen asked.
“No. But they’re creepy.” Clover sobbed and then sniffled. In a whisper, she said, “Mom, I’m in my spandex.” Her voice trailed off.
Trace didn’t understand at first what she was saying.
“Didn’t you bring your warm-up suit?”
“Just the jacket, and it’s cold in here.”
Gretchen was holding herself together now, trying to give comfort to Clover. “I know, sweetie. Ask them for a blanket or something to wrap around your legs. You have to stay warm, and be sure to drink water.”
“When are you coming to get me?”
It was the question that hung in the air nobody had an answer for.
“As soon as I can. I have to get hold of your dad. Have they tried calling him?”
“Yes. He doesn’t pick up.”
Gretchen gritted her teeth. “How did this happen, Clover?”
“I was waiting for Joanie. She was late. Everyone just left me, Mom.” She wavered and soon began to sob again. “I’m scared, Mom.”
The phone made muffled sounds, and then the male voice came on the line again. “So this is how it’s going to happen,” he began.
Gretchen interrupted him. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t do anything until I get in touch with Clover’s father. He’s the one in town, and he’s the only one who can arrange that kind of money. So you’re going to have to wait. I’m just telling the truth of how it is. I wish it was different, but you’re going to have to give us some time to get this figured out.”
Trace noticed she got stronger the longer she spoke.
“I do understand, Mrs. Sanders. I’m willing to be flexible, within reason. But don’t take too long.”
“You need to keep calling him. And I think Clover has his girlfriend’s number with her somewhere, too.”
“Okay. I am a very patient man, Mrs. Sanders. We will continue to try getting through to him, and we will call you back.”
“I’m going to take the first flight home.” She looked at Libby who nodded her head. “But I’ll have my friends keep trying Tony as well.”
“Very well. One other thing, you are not to involve the police. Trust me when I say that things will not go well for your lovely daughter, Clover. Such a special child. It would be a shame—”
Trace had the urge to grab the phone from Gretchen again to give the guy a piece of his mind, but Gretchen beat him to it.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Like I said before, you harm one hair on her body and if it’s the last thing I do, if it takes my whole life, I’ll find you and your little cadre of demons and I will personally excise you from this planet. That’s not a threat. That’s a fact!” Gretchen’s face was red with anger.
The gentleman on the phone laughed softly. But then they could hear Clover’s outburst in the background, echoing in a large space, like a warehouse or hangar, “Don’t touch me!”
The voice continued. “I can see where she gets her spirit. I hope, for her sake, it is not in vain. We’ll be in touch.”
The phone went dead.