Breaking Away (Military Romantic Suspense) (Book 3 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 8

  “This guy is fanatic about his national heritage and about getting us out of his country. He wants us, and our democratic influence, gone. His get-into-business card is a piece of Iraqi history. Think about it. He’s sticking it to us two different ways. He’s sending drugs over here to be peddled. And he’s using the money he makes to fund his own terrorist takeover.”

  “It’s the drug cartels who’ve set up trade here who are using the artifacts to create a new pipeline for product,” Flash repeated.

  “Yeah. Most of them have set up shop from other countries, so they owe no loyalty to us. We had no way of infiltrating them so we could get in on the ground floor. So we created our own.”

  “So you’re going to use National Security to take them down for terrorism.”

  “Which will keep them in prison longer than drug charges seem to.”

  The scenario he was talking about was complicated enough to be true. Flash studied Gilbert’s face. Sweat beaded the guy’s forehead and ran down his cheek. He blinked several times. “How are they getting the drugs from Iraq and Afghanistan to here?”

  “They’re shipping them from West Africa into Cuba, then they’re filtering them in through Miami.”

  Flash had worked in Africa. He knew about the drug cartels there. Drugs were an equal opportunity employer. And big enough money so governments of poor countries ignored their trade to get their hands on some of the cash. But there was something about the scenario Gilbert was outlining…it sounded familiar somehow. “What happened with the two assholes who shot me?”

  “They weren’t FBI. They were sent to take you out, just like the other squad was sent to take Dobson and me out. Their badges were a thumb-their-nose type of deal.” There went Gilbert’s quick blinking again.

  A fresh wave of anger rolled through Flash. His stomach muscles cramped and he moved around the kitchen. A memory clicked and he drew a deep breath. What now? He stared at the fancy cappuccino machine on the counter. Wonder how much that set his pal Bert back? His mind raced. “Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me that? You let me believe they were FBI agents and that my career, my life, was probably over.”

  “I follow orders just like you do, Carney. The powers that be are trying to limit the fallout. Our whole operation was compromised. We lost three agents. But you gave us two contract killers who might be able to lead us back to some key players.” Blink, blink, blink.

  He didn’t doubt that killers were involved. He’d played Dobson’s message and heard that going down. “Glad I could help you out, Bert.” Bitterness laced his voice. If they were hit men and not FBI, their bodies were probably weighted down somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

  “It was a competing faction who sent them in. They tapped into our operation and decided to take the whole thing down.”

  “It sounds as though they did.”

  “Not quite. We still have some people in place deeper in. But we need the artifacts you have and the cash.”

  “Well that just may be a problem, Bert.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Why is that?”

  “They’re with some people I trust a lot more than I do you.”

  Gilbert’s eyes widened, his thick brows shot upward. “Who?”

  Flash shook his head. “Next time you spin a yarn to a mark, try to control your body language, dude.”

  Gilbert face paled, then color shot into his cheeks. He strained against the straps that held his hands and feet and the chair danced on the tile floor. “God damn it, Carney. You have to listen to me. We need those artifacts and the money.”

  “I’m sure you do. I don’t know what all this is about. But I know straight up that the bullshit you just spread around in here isn’t it.”

  Flash strode across the kitchen, picked up his pack, and sauntered across the living room toward the front door.

  “If we don’t deliver those artifacts to the buyer, everything comes apart, Flash.”

  “Yeah? Just like you’ve pulled my life apart with this crap.”

  “Why do you think I’m not telling the truth?”

  “I may have been downrange, but I haven’t been out of touch. The scenario you just outlined happened in South America about two years ago. And let’s just say I’ve had first-hand experience in Africa.”

  “You walk out that door and you’re a dead man,” Gilbert threatened.

  Flash scooped Gilbert’s car keys out of the bowl on the coffee table and turned to look over his shoulder. “Every time I’ve gone on a mission that’s been a possibility.”

  He slammed the door behind him as he left the apartment.

  CHAPTER 9

  Las Vegas

  “Your health insurance has been canceled, Mrs. Cross,” the woman said from her seat next to the hospital bed. She had introduced herself as someone from the hospital financial office. “As of this morning you have no insurance. I need you to sign these forms taking financial responsibility for the remainder of your stay.”

  Samantha stared at the woman. Of course Will and his parents had found a way to put pressure on her. The lawyer had warned her that it would happen. “Was my husband’s coverage canceled or just mine?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I only spoke to the district manager of the health insurance company about your coverage.”

  “What did you say your name is?” Sam asked.

  “My name is Leigh Gabbard, Mrs. Cross.”

  “Ms. Gabbard, I’m not signing those forms and I’m not taking financial responsibility for being injured. My husband is responsible for this, and I’ve paid enough.”

  “But someone has to accept responsibility in order for you to stay, Mrs. Cross.”

  Sam drew as deep a breath as she could to fight back the panic. Her stomach knotted with both rage and tears. Without Will’s support she had nothing. And obviously his family believed that by cutting her off and making her destitute, they would have the leverage to manipulate her.

  Why hadn’t she fought harder to have a job of her own, to have her independence? Because Will hadn’t wanted her to be independent. He hadn’t wanted her to have anything but him. Once again he was abusing her, psychologically. And, like always, he had forgotten his daughter’s well-being.

  Sam threw the blanket aside and slid her legs free of the bed. She bit back a cry of pain as she rested her weight on her feet. Every muscle in her body seized. Her ribs made it impossible for her to straighten up.

  Mrs. Gabbard’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?” She got to her feet.

  Sam reached for the phone. “I’m calling my grandmother to come pick me up.”

  “But…” She bit her lip. “You can’t leave unless your doctor discharges you.”

  There was something freeing about the truth. The more she spoke it out loud, the more the weight of all she’d been carrying lifted. “Then I suppose you’d better go out and tell the nurse to call him to come and discharge me. I don’t have any money, Ms. Gabbard. I don’t have a job. My husband has canceled my insurance to try and pressure me into dropping charges against him. And I can’t have thousands of dollars in hospital bills hanging over my head when I’m trying to live without any support. So, I’m leaving.” Sam looked through the slit of her injured left eye. Thank God, she could finally see out of it. “I can’t pay to stay here. I’ll just have to make do.”

  “But you’re too ill to go home.”

  “That doesn’t really matter, does it?” Sam asked. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting there with your forms, and I wouldn’t be standing here calling for someone to pick me up.”

  Mrs. Gabbard’s eyes looked dazed and a little anxious as she left the room.

  Sam dialed her grandmother’s number. “Gran, I’m being released a little early. Can you come and pick me up?”

  “Certainly. Joy’s almost finished with breakfast. I’ll get her dressed, and we can be there within the hour.”

  “Please bring me something to wear. I don’t have any clothes h
ere. They cut them off when they brought me in.”

  “I went to the house yesterday and picked up some of Joy’s things and yours.”

  Dear God, what had she seen? Had the police been there to gather evidence? She pushed the thought away. “Bring me something loose. I can’t really bear anything against my skin.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll need some sanitary napkins.” Tears glazed her vision but she fought them back. She’d grieve later, when she had time. Right now she needed to put one foot in front of the other and do what needed to be done.

  “All right. I’ll get them. Why are they releasing you so quickly?” Concern came through in Ellen’s tone. “You’ve only been in the hospital a day and a half.”

  “They can’t really do anything for me, Gran. I just need to heal, and I can do that at home with you and Joy, just as well as I can here.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “I’ll have to rest a lot at first. I’ll need to stay close to the hospital for another twenty-four hours, just in case. Maybe we can go home tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go back to the house, Sam.”

  “No. I’m talking about your house, Gran. I know it’s an imposition, but as soon as I’m better, I’m going to get a job, and Joy and I can get our own place.”

  “Only if you want to, Samantha. My home is your home for as long as you want it. You’re still my girl.”

  Tears blurred her vision again and she leaned against the bed for more support. “I know I am, Gran. But I don’t want to bring trouble to your door.”

  “Honey. Do you really believe I could ever go home and leave you and Joy here like this?”

  “No.” Every shortened telephone conversation, every tension-filled visit they’d had in the last three and a half years came back to torment her. Now that everything was out in the open… “I love you, Gran. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to. I tried to get away from him, and every time—I was too afraid.”

  “Sam. I know. Do you think I’m blind? I knew you had trouble. I tried several times to talk to you but you shut me down.”

  “I was ashamed. Ashamed that I’d gotten myself into something I couldn’t get out of. Ashamed to tell you that someone I loved was treating me like…” A punching bag. “And afraid for you and Joy. He told me he could drive to your house any time and snap your neck, and no one would ever know it was him. I believed him, Gran. I still do. You have to be careful.” The panic inside her raced out with the words.

  Ellen’s voice grew soft. “We’re going to be okay, Sam. I promise. He’s never going to lay a hand on any of us ever again.”

  The resolve she heard in her grandmother’s voice eased her fear and boosted her confidence. “No, he’s not.” No matter what she had to do to protect them. There were weapons at Gran’s house. And she’d use them, if she had to. They’d be fine.

  “I’ll be there to pick you up in an hour,” Ellen said, breaking into her thoughts.

  She hung up the phone and, gripping the mattress, then the foot of the bed, she moved around to sit in the chair Ms. Gabbard had vacated. She had to push on.

  As long as she sat very still, the pain wasn’t too bad. She braced the heel of her hand on the seat of the chair and tried to shift slightly until she could breathe a little easier.

  “What’s this I hear about you asking to be discharged?” Dr. Simons said from the door.

  Her strength was fading fast. “I’m sure Ms. Gabbard told you about the situation.”

  “Your health is worth more than the money, Mrs. Cross,” he said, his tone stern.

  “That’s easy for you to say, but I’m living the reality of it all. As long as I’m married to Will Cross, my income is tied to his. This hospital is going to look at his income as mine, though I’ve never had more than grocery money to spend. I won’t qualify for any kind of financial help. So when we split, and we will be doing that, he’ll refuse to pay the bill and I’ll be left with it. And I can’t afford to be saddled with a crippling debt when I have a child to care for, Dr. Simon. Not when I’ll be trying to break away from Will, and from his family’s control.” She’d need whatever money she could earn to pay lawyer fees and for Joy. “So, I need you to release me. My grandmother is coming to pick me up.”

  Dr. Simon’s jaw grew taut and frustration flickered across his features. “You’ll need to stay close to the hospital for at least another twenty-four hours, in case you start to hemorrhage again. If you have any kind of issue at all, nausea, fever, headache, more pronounced bleeding, you’ll need to get back in here immediately, bill or no bill.”

  Sam nodded “I understand.”

  He turned away.

  “Thank you, Dr. Simons.”

  He paused at the door. “I’m sorry you’ve gone through this. But I’m glad you’re getting away from…the situation. I’m sorry I didn’t take your warnings about your husband more seriously.”

  So she had gotten an apology after all, but she no longer needed it. “You don’t know how devious or determined someone can be unless you’ve lived with them, lived with…all they can do. How could you have known?”

  “I’ll listen more carefully next time,” he answered and continued out the door.

  Sam forced herself to her feet and pushed the call button. She requested a towel and washcloth so she could take a shower. A few minutes later, the nurse walked her down the hall to the shower and helped her inside. “Should you feel faint or ill, push this button.” She pointed out the emergency call button. “I’ll be watching for it. Okay?”

  “Thank you.” The nurse left and Sam took her time getting the water the right temperature and setting out her hospital gown. Her strength drained after only a five-minute shower. She rushed to finish, then sat on a bench inside the room to dry off, put on the fresh gown and fit the belt and pad on.

  She’d be strong again. She just had to cut off her grief so it wouldn’t cripple her. And let her anger feed her determination. She would be free of Will Cross and his family.

  She owed it to Joy. She owed it to the child she’d lost. And she owed it to herself. She bundled her dirty gown in the wet towel and wrapped her fresh one around her so the open back wouldn’t flash everyone out in the hall. The nurse appeared again and kept a hand on her arm as she helped her back to her room. Lying on the bed again, Sam eyed the phone and asked the nurse to hand her the receiver. Once it was in her hand, she dialed her attorney’s number. She gave his secretary her grandmother’s cell phone number and told the secretary to tell him about the first volley lobbed at her by Will and his parents.

  Less than an hour had passed when Ellen arrived with Joy and a plastic bag. Ellen approached the bed, and taking Sam into her arms, held her carefully. For a moment, Sam was as overwhelmed as her grandmother and they clung to one another.

  When Ellen drew back, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her cotton shirt and turned to check on Joy.

  The fear Sam read in Joy’s face as Gran drew her close to the bed gave her heart a squeeze. And when she hid behind Ellen’s leg, Sam couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Momma’s okay, baby. I know I look awful, but I just have some bruises, and this is the last time this will happen. We’re going to Grandma El’s house, and we’re going to be just fine.”

  “I wide on the tractor, old Betsy.” Joy eased out from behind Ellen and took a tentative step toward Sam.

  “Yes, you will. You and Freddy. And me, too.”

  Joy approached the bed and Sam raised her gaze to Ellen. She rushed forward to lift Joy onto the bed. Though it hurt to even be touched, Sam gathered her close and held her. “Mama has missed you, so much.”

  “Daddy’s mean.”

  “Yes, he is sometimes.” She smoothed Joy’s fine blonde hair, so much like her own. “You’re my girl and Grandma El’s. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Joy raised her hand and her favorite little person was stuck on her index finger. “Fwe
ddy missed you, too.”

  Sam smiled. “Thank you, Freddy, for missing me.”

  Joy grinned.

  The nurse came in with Sam’s release papers. She went over the cautions Dr. Simons had already covered with her, then said, “I’ll give you a few minutes to change, and I’ll be back with a wheelchair to take you to the front exit.”

  “Momma has to get dressed, baby.” Sam said to Joy.

  Ellen grasped Joy’s hands and helped her slip down off the bed. Sam eased off the edge and leaned against the bed while her Grandmother got her clothes out of the bag. Suppressing any flinch of pain, she took the sweatpants and t-shirt into the bathroom and got dressed.

  It was both comforting and strange to wear her own clothing. The scent of the fabric softener she used hadn’t changed in the last eighteen hours. The way her tennis shoes felt on her feet hadn’t altered, either. But she had changed somehow. With that last punch to her face, Will had broken his hold on her. Or had it been the time she’d spent to describe every moment of this last explosion of violence? Or had it been because she had defended herself? She was still afraid, but she wasn’t going to take Will’s abuse any more. She would protect herself, Joy, and Gran in any way she could.

  She opened the door and walked back into the hospital room where they waited for her with the nurse.

  Sam was grateful for the wheelchair ride downstairs. She’d have never made it to the main lobby without it. She kept her head down and used her hair to shield her injured face from the other people in the elevator.

  “Joy and I will go bring the car around to the entrance,” Ellen said, and taking Joy’s hand, walked out the side entrance. They disappeared behind a crowd of people standing on the sidewalk.

  “Wonder what’s going on out there.” the nurse said.

  Sam shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe someone’s family is here to pick them up.” Through the crowd she caught a glimpse of her grandmother’s car. “That’s her car.”

  The nurse pushed her forward, and as she triggered the door mechanism, Sam bent her head so her hair covered the side of her face. The early morning sun proved to be too bright for her injured eye, and Sam threw up a hand to block it as they emerged from the building.