My Protector (Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL Book 5) Read online

  The passenger side door of a car that has to be Shadow’s swings open unexpectedly. It’s the only other car besides my own in the lot, a dark gray SUV. Behind me, I can feel Jenna go rigid with tension, and Fred Shears’ face is white.

  Carl Boetsch steps out of the car. “All right,” he says. “That’s enough, everyone.”

  I have never been in Carl Boetsch’s presence before, and the photos I’ve seen of him don’t do him justice. In person, he’s much taller and more threatening than the pictures imply. He towers about a foot over either Shadow or me, a foot and a half over Jenna and Fred. His hair is slicked back with gel, and his eyes are shielded with aviator sunglasses. He wears a leather bomber jacket and military-style boots that lace up over his ankles. He’s carrying a revolver with a fat wooden grip. Everyone falls silent as he approaches us.

  Boetsch turns to Shadow first. “Congratulations,” he says. “I see I was right to put my faith in you, Shadow. You were able to track down both Fred Shears and the daughter. Excellent work indeed. And so quickly handled, too. You can look forward to a bonus for a job well done.”

  The fact that Shadow is being paid for this work makes me want to vomit. He doesn’t even need the money. What is he going to do, buy a better television? I hope every time he sits down to watch it, he thinks about the lives he’s ruined.

  “Can we get out of here?” Shadow looks edgy. “I just want to get this over with.”

  “It’s nearly over,” Boetsch says. “Truly, you’ve done a wonderful job. I never expected this job to resolve itself so neatly. Usually, there’s a loose end to worry about, someone who has to be monitored or followed up with. But you managed to get both Fred and the girl in the same place at the same time. We can tie this up right now, leaving only one thing more to take care of.”

  “What’s that?” Shadow asks.

  “The witness.” Boetsch gestures with his gun toward me.

  Shadow frowns. “What?”

  “He can’t be left alive,” Boetsch says. “He knows too much. He’ll have to be disposed of.”

  Disposed of. They’re talking about me. They’re talking about killing me.

  I should be afraid, but I can’t bring my mind back to myself. It’s stuck on the terror I feel for Jenna. They’re going to put her in the back of that SUV and drive away with her. I have no idea what will happen to her after that, but I’m sure it won’t be good. I have to stop them. But how?

  Boetsch waves his gun at Shadow. “Take care of it,” he says.

  Shadow looks stricken. “What?”

  “Take care of him,” Boetsch says, with a hand wave in my direction now. “Then we can go.”

  “You want me to just…shoot him? This wasn’t part of the plan.”

  “The plan has to change. He knows too much.” Boetsch eyes Shadow. “Do we have a problem?”

  “Well…” For the first time, Shadow looks truly conflicted. Fred is staring at him as if he can’t believe anything he’s seeing. Jenna is clinging to my arm and panting with fear. Shadow stares at the gun in his hand for a long moment, then looks back up at Boetsch. “We can’t just leave a body here,” he says.

  “I have a crew coming along behind us to take care of that,” Boetsch says in a snippy voice. He appears to be losing patience. “It will be fine. We’re in the middle of nowhere. You’ve worked with me long enough to know that you’ll be protected. The police will never know about this.”

  Shadow nods slowly, still examining his gun.

  “Shadow,” I say.

  He looks up at me. His eyes are wide, and I know the expression on his face as well as I know the back of my own hand. I’ve seen it countless times in combat when it felt like the world was ending all around us. He’s desperate. He’s searching for a way out.

  “Do you remember when we were deployed near Bahrain, and that enemy craft was circling us all night?” I ask him, maintaining eye contact.

  Shadow hesitates, then slowly nods.

  “Do you remember how they started firing on us at around three in the morning?” I ask. “The night had been pitch-dark, no moon out, but then it started lighting up all around us. We could see the reflections of the explosions on the surface of the water. We could hear different parts of the ship taking damage all around us. You and I were aft, keeping watch, and we hadn’t been instructed to leave our post, so we were hanging on and waiting to hear what would happen. We couldn’t see the craft that was attacking us or any of the damage. We had no idea how bad things were. We didn’t know if we were just getting dinged up or if we were about to sink.”

  Shadow’s voice sounds hoarse. “I remember.”

  “And we promised each other,” I say, thinking back on that horrific night. “We promised each other that we’d stay together. That neither one of us would leave the other behind. If the ship went down, we would get each other to the lifeboats. We promised to look out for each other.”

  Shadow nods.

  “I meant what I said,” I tell him.

  “What is this bullshit?” Boetsch says. His shoulders are tense, his voice like an angry dog. “Who cares what happened on a boat in the middle of nowhere? This is about right now, Shadow. Kill him. Now.”

  But Shadow pivots where he stands, raising the gun with military precision and leveling it directly at Boetsch’s forehead. “No,” he says, his voice suddenly calm and steady. “Drop your weapon, Boetsch. I’m not going to let you kill my friend.”

  Chapter 19

  Jenna

  The explosion rips through the air, shocking me to my core. Even though I’ve been standing here watching these men aim guns at each other, I don’t think I ever truly believed it would come to shooting. It was a power move, I thought. A standoff. They didn’t want to hurt each other. Not really.

  Except, apparently, at least one of them did.

  I don’t know who fired the shot. That’s my next thought. I don’t know who fired the shot, and I don’t know if someone was hit—I don’t think I was hit. But I’ve never been shot before. The fear flooding my body is so much stronger than anything I’ve ever felt that I don’t know whether I’d even notice a bullet wound. My father is standing here in this yard, and Joel—one of those guns was pointing at Joel—but no. Shadow had turned. He’d turned the gun on Boetsch, but Boetsch is still standing…

  Then Shadow staggers, and the world catches up with my racing thoughts.

  Shadow’s hand flies to his shoulder. He bends over. My eyes dart back to Boetsch. He’s still holding a gun pointed at Shadow.

  Boetsch’s voice, when he speaks, is soft and dangerous. “You know that was a warning shot, don’t you?”

  Gasping, Shadow nods.

  “You know I can put a bullet anywhere I want.”

  Another nod.

  “I’m going to give you one more chance,” Boetsch says. “You’ve been a trustworthy associate so far. But I can’t have someone on my payroll who thinks orders are optional or that they can make exceptions for their friends. He’s not your friend right now. Do you understand? He’s a witness. He can make trouble for us, and he won’t hesitate to do so. There’s only one way this ends. The only question is whether you’re man enough to do it.”

  Shadow stands up straighter and points his gun at Joel.

  “Shadow,” Joel speaks up. “You don’t have to do this. This is you and me. You know I’m not going to do anything that will get you in trouble. Not if you walk away right now.”

  “He’s lying,” Boetsch says with an egotistical chuckle. “You can’t trust him.”

  “He knows he can trust me,” Joel says.

  Shadow looks from one of them to the other, then slowly lowers his weapon. “I know,” he says to Joel. “I know I can.”

  “Shoot him,” Boetsch insists. “Shadow, finish this so we can get out of here. We’ve already wasted too much time on this, particularly if we want to be finished and gone before someone realizes what’s going on and calls the police.”

  But Sh
adow shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says. “I’m not going to.”

  Boetsch points his gun at Joel and starts moving toward him. “Move out of the way, then. I’ll do it myself.”

  “No!” The cry escapes me before I have time to think. I push my way out from behind Joel’s body and sprint toward Boetsch.

  “Jenna, stop!” Dad’s voice is a scream.

  “Shadow! Stop her!” Joel yells.

  Something hard strikes my chest and stops my forward momentum. A moment later I realize it’s Shadow. I’ve run straight into his outstretched arm, which he now curls around me, pulling me into his body and pivoting us so that he’s between Boetsch and me. I struggle, pushing against his arm, driving my heels into his shins. “Let me go!”

  “It’s all right,” Shadow’s voice is low and urgent, his mouth inches from my ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  But it’s not me I’m worried about. Boetsch and Joel are slowly circling each other now, and Boetsch is looking at Joel like he’s something to eat. Joel looks fierce and determined, his hand curling and uncurling at his side as if he’s preparing for something, but what is he hoping to do? Punch Boetsch? The man has a gun.

  “Last words?” Boetsch asks.

  I can’t look. I can’t look away. I’m suddenly aware of how hard I’m breathing, of the fact that my chest is rising and falling like a bellows. Shadow seems to notice too.

  “Breathe,” he says. “Don’t panic. Just breathe.”

  He takes a couple of deep breaths himself, demonstrating, and even though I am miles away from being able to trust him, I know he’s right about at least this much. I focus on drawing air into my lungs and expelling it. After a moment, my head clears, and the spots that I hadn’t realized were obscuring my vision disappear.

  Joel says, “You underestimated me, Boetsch.”

  “I admit you were a tough one,” Boetsch says, “but I got you in the end.”

  They both move at the same time, so fast that for a few seconds I can’t tell what happened. The fear overcomes me, finally, and my knees grow weak when I hear the sound of the gunshot. Behind me, I can feel Shadow lowering us down to sit on the ground so he won’t have to hold me up.

  The air is full of smoke. I hear my father coughing and know he’s alive.

  I can’t see Joel. I can’t see him!

  Then the smoke starts to clear—it’s only been a few seconds since the shot went off, but it feels like years—and I’m looking at the spot where Joel was standing, and he isn’t there.

  Shadow moves suddenly, jumping to his feet and diving forward. He lands with a grunt on top of what I realize are two other bodies wrestling for dominance, and a moment later Shadow and Joel have each pinned one of Boetsch’s arms.

  That’s when I see the hilt of Joel’s knife sticking out of Boetsch’s bicep and understand. Joel threw the knife and struck Boetsch in the arm. The gun…I look around. The gun is on the ground, behind Boetsch. He must have dropped it when he was hit. I guess it went off when it hit the ground.

  Joel was right. Boetsch did underestimate him.

  And so did I.

  “We need to tie him up,” Joel says, all business now. Despite the knife in his arm, Boetsch is struggling mightily against the two of them as they fight to hold him down. “Shadow, do you have anything?”

  “Handcuffs, in the glove box.” Shadow tilts his head toward Boetsch’s car.

  “Fred,” Joel says. I can hear in his voice that he’s making an effort to sound calm and relaxed, probably for our sake. “Can you please look in the glove box of that car? See if you can locate Shadow’s handcuffs?”

  My father and I make eye contact. He looks shaken up, but otherwise okay. I watch him make his way to the car, slide into the passenger seat, and begin rummaging in the glove box. A moment later he emerges, handcuffs in hand, and walks them over to Joel.

  “Jenna,” Joel calls. I’m right behind him, so I know he can’t see me without compromising his hold on Boetsch. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” I say. I’m surprised to hear how wobbly my own voice sounds, though. When I look down at my hands, I see that they’re shaking.

  Joel seems to pick up on my anxiety. “Everything’s fine now,” he says. “Just a few administrative details, and then we’ll be able to get out of here. And we’ll get a nice hotel, okay? With a hot tub, maybe? Order a little room service?”

  I laugh in spite of myself. “A charcuterie tray?”

  “You got it,” Joel says. “Whatever that is—I’ll get it for you.”

  Shadow unclips what looks like a radio handset from his belt. “I’ll radio the precinct and have them send someone over to collect him,” he tells Joel.

  Boetsch laughs. “You’re going to turn me over to the police? Shadow, don’t be ludicrous. You know as well as I do that you’re an accessory to every crime I’ve committed over the past year. You can’t possibly be imagining that I’ll protect you if you hand me over.”

  “I never thought you would protect me under any circumstances, no matter how loyal I was,” Shadow says, his voice even. “I know that isn’t your style, Boetsch.”

  “Then you know what a bad idea this is,” Boetsch says. “As soon as the police arrive, they’ll want to arrest you too. Even if you do somehow manage to escape being brought in for questioning, they’ll come for you as soon as I tell them everything you did. And I will tell them, Shadow. Make no mistake about that. What do you think, that you’ll go free because you grew a conscience in the eleventh hour? Nobody’s going to care about that. It’s going to be all about what you did, the crimes you committed. You’ll be going away for a long time over this.”

  Joel rests a hand on Shadow’s forearm. “He’s got a point,” he says. “There’s no reason for you to implicate yourself. Why don’t you leave now, and I’ll make the call on my cellphone?”

  Shadow stares. “Why are you protecting me? After what I did?”

  “I told you,” Joel says. “You’re my friend. I’ll always have your back. Now get out of here. I’ll take care of this.”

  But Shadow shakes his head, his eyes now fixed on the prone figure of Boetsch on the ground. “He’s going to hand me over anyway,” he says. “I might as well stay.”

  “No one’s going to believe a word he says,” Dad speaks up. “He was born with lies in his mouth. We’ll all deny you were here, Shadow.”

  “After what I did to you?”

  “You saved us when it counted,” I say, getting my feet under me at last and making my way over to my father. He puts his arms around me, and for a few minutes, I feel young again, safe and secure.

  “If I don’t give testimony,” Shadow says, “the police will never know the extent of his crimes. I worked on the inside. I saw things nobody else did. I can make sure he receives the sentence he deserves. I can make sure they have enough evidence against him.” He looks back up at Joel. “I appreciate the offer, old friend. But I’m not going anywhere. This is the only way I can make amends for the things I’ve done.”

  Joel clasps Shadow with a hand on his unwounded shoulder. “You’re a good man. You always have been.”

  Shadow nods, looking like he’s struggling to believe it. Now that the threat is past, he’s no longer the imposing figure he once was, and I find it hard to believe I was ever afraid of him. He’s slump-shouldered and tired-looking.

  “I’m sorry, Joel,” he says. “I know I betrayed your trust, especially by drawing information from the Fred Shears files I pulled for you. I understand if you can’t forgive me for that. But I want to make it clear to you how sorry I am. I wish I could take it all back.”

  Joel pulls him into a gentle, manly embrace, careful of the injured shoulder. “Today is a good start,” he says. “We were able to bring him down together. At least now, he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

  We’re all still sitting in the courtyard of the motel when the police arrive twenty minutes later. The five of us have been jo
ined by the motel manager, who tells us he hid under his desk at the sound of gunshots but came out to investigate when it seemed things had calmed down. It turns out he called the police even before Shadow did.

  Two officers collect Boetsch from the ground where Joel and Shadow left him handcuffed and maneuver him into the back of a car. Boetsch doesn’t speak or make eye contact with any of us as they read him his rights. He seems cowed at last. A third officer walks around taking statements from all of us. She has very little to ask me, it turns out—I give her a quick account of how I came to be here, downplaying the unorthodox way in which Joel and I met. She spends longer with Dad, who explains what he found when he audited Boetsch’s books, and with Shadow, who of course has all kinds of helpful inside information. Finally, Shadow agrees to go down to the police station and answer some questions.

  “Is he under arrest?” Joel asks.

  “Not yet,” the police officer answers. I note that she doesn’t put Shadow in the car with a hand on his head, the way she did with Boetsch. “This is just an interview.”

  “That’s good, right?” I ask Joel as they drive away, leaving us alone with Dad and the hotel manager.

  “I don’t know.” Joel frowns. “I don’t like the way she said not yet.”

  “Excuse me,” the manager says. “I’m going to close up the place for the day—if you people wouldn’t mind checking out.”

  “Of course,” Joel says.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Dad says. He follows the manager back over to his office.

  The wind kicks up a cloud of dust around our ankles. Joel puts his arms around me. “You’re okay?” he asks. He leans over to kiss my nose.

  “I’m okay.” I rest my forehead on his broad chest and feel him breathing deeply. I don’t know if it’s right to say I almost lost him today, but our lives felt so precarious. I close my eyes, and the image of that revolver swims before me. If Shadow hadn’t decided to double-cross Boetsch, or if Joel hadn’t been on target when he threw that knife…