Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Protecting Joselyn (Kindle Worlds) Page 16

  "I know this is a sore point with you but I think you should cancel the upcoming convention," Maddox suggested.

  "No, I want to hold onto the reservation in case this is all resolved by then. I'll eat the cancellation fees if it's too dangerous. The convention being so close, it won't make much difference anyway." She was scrolling through her telephone, checking her other engagements. "Nashville was the next big thing on my calendar. I didn't schedule anything after for a couple of months other than a few local appearances. I am hoping to start to work on my next novel." She hesitated. "Maybe we can use the convention to flush him out?"

  "Maybe," Detective Jameson agreed. "But it would be better to get this resolved sooner than later."

  Maddox agreed.

  She placed the cell phone on the table and sat back. "Well, that's it. He's been cut off now. I haven't scheduled anything since I got my new cell so he won't know anything else."

  "He shouldn't anyway," Detective Jameson said. "When the old one was deactivated, he lost the window of opportunity. I suspect he downloaded everything off of it because he hasn't turned it back on. I talked to Tex yesterday and he says there hasn't been a single blip. This guy's tricky and smart. "

  "Too smart." Joselyn agreed. "What I can't figure out is how he found me at the farm."

  "The farm has me puzzled too. He couldn't have gotten the address from your cell phone as far as I can tell. He doesn't know anything about me. He doesn't even know I am ex-SEAL. He calls me 'the soldier'," Maddox's lip curled in derision. "I'm not a ground pounder. He needs to learn the difference between the Army and the Navy."

  "Alright, let's think about this for a minute. You didn't give the address to anyone, what so ever?" Detective Jameson asked.

  Maddox and Joselyn shook their heads. "Oh, well nobody except for Sam," she said. "He sent me a box of swag I needed to approve before it could go into production. I had him overnight it."

  "Who is Sam?" Detective Jameson asked. "Do you trust him?"

  "Sam is one of the gate guards for the community." Maddox supplied constructively. "Two twelve hour shifts split by four men. You vetted them for me the first week I was here. There's also Felix, Trevor and..."

  "Manny," Joselyn finished.

  "Four men who had access to your whereabouts," Detective Jameson said. "I'll have them brought in for questioning."

  "What about this," Joselyn motioned toward the photo of the message left on the barn.

  "I've been in contact with the Sheriff's department in Lauderdale County. They are going to keep an eye on things there. Personally, I believe this shows his frustration." Detective Jameson took the picture out of her hand."This is the act of a desperate man. His little game has gone on too long. When you slipped out of his grasp, he began losing his hold on things. You took the control away." He placed the photo on top of a file folder sitting on the table. "Now you are back, I don't think he's going to wait much longer. One way or another, this thing is about to be concluded."

  Chills coursed up Joselyn's spine at the frank words from the police detective. Drawing a breath she nodded. "Alright," she said resolutely. "What are we going to do?"

  Maddox looked at Detective Jameson. Something passed between them and Detective Jameson nodded. With a quick lift of his chin, Maddox turned to her. In a cold, hard voice, he said, "Finish this."

  Chapter 22

  July arrived in New Orleans with all of the lumbering grace of a pregnant elephant. The weather morphed from simply muggy to hot and almost unbearable. The evening showers typical for this time of year did nothing to cool off the thick air. Instead, it merely created an atmosphere so congested it was like trying to breathe underwater.

  The overwhelming humidity, along with the unnatural lull from her stalker seemed to suck the life right out of Joselyn and it worried River. She retained the habits she acquired while on the farm and continued to rise early each morning before disappearing into her office for the day. Not even the lure of dinner from Giovanni's could pull her out. "I'll eat when I'm hungry," she would tell him as she stared at her mostly blank screen. The apathy concerned him most. Each time he came in to check on her, she hadn't moved and the words on the screen hadn't grown substantially. It almost ripped his heart out to see her sinking into hopelessness.

  Just over two weeks after returning from Mississippi, he'd had enough. Bursting into her office, he sauntered over to her desk and sat in the antique wingback next to it. He placed a heavy plastic bag on the ground at his feet. She looked at him with wide unblinking eyes as he pulled his firearm out, unchambered the round, removed the magazine, checked the breach and placed the two pieces on the desktop beside her keyboard. "This is the SIG Sauer P226 Mk25, the weapon of choice of the US SEALs," he said. "The barrel is made from a metal alloy and attached to a full size, stainless steel frame. Almost eight inches long, one and a half inch wide and five and a half inches high, it weighs in at right under two pounds total weight. It is both double and single action. The double action trigger pull is ten pounds and only four point four with the single. The magazine holds twenty rounds of 9mm, 124-grain v-crown." He retrieved both parts, slapped the magazine back into the handle and racked the slide. "It's sleek, precise and deadly."

  "I don't understand." She said, eying him as he worked the piece.

  He ensured the safety was engaged and slide it back home into the holster at his hip. Picking up the bag, he removed a box and placed it on the desk. Opening it, he pulled out a handgun resembling his but much smaller. "This is the SIG Sauer P938 Edge. It holds six 9mm Luger rounds in the mag and one in the pipe. Made of a metal alloy on a sub-compact stainless steel frame, it weighs in at only one pound. It takes seven pounds of pressure to fire. Single action trigger only but it's all you will need." He ejected the magazine, pulled the slide and held it up to the light. "Lightweight, compact and the perfect self-defense sidearm."

  She shook her head at him. "I don't need a gun. Security is your thing. It's why I have you."

  He placed the weapon back into its foam cradle. Taking her hands in his he waited until her eyes left the box and focused on him. "This is not a gun, it's a weapon, a firearm, a sidearm or a pistol. Guns are mounted on ships and weigh several tons. However, back to your comment. Yes, you do need it. I've been watching you for the past few days and frankly, it's worrying me. Honey, you are going through the motions of living right now. Waking every morning, coming in here and staring at the screen isn't doing you any good. I see you withering away and it's gutting me. I can tell you feel hopeless and you are giving in. This is not you; you are a fighter. You are stronger than this; stronger than all the Donavan Beechers in the world. Yes, I'm here to protect you but what if the unthinkable happens? What if I get hurt or killed? You need to have the skills to take care of yourself until the police arrive." He hated the look of alarm and pain his words caused her. She didn't like thinking he was not impervious to harm. "I know you don't want to consider it but there is a possibility."

  She shook her head.

  "Yes, it is. I'm only human." Seeing she wasn't about to give in, he changed tactics. "Alright, how about this? What if someone breaks in and when I go to check on things, I stumble over a rug, fall down the stairs, smack my noggin on the wall and get knocked out? Who's going to protect me?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

  She let out a heavy sigh. "You are the most coordinated, graceful man I have ever seen. I bet you haven't tripped since you were in diapers but I see what you are getting at," she capitulated with a slight nod.

  Knowing he had her at least partially won over, he hurried on so she could not back peddle. "Now, go do whatever it is you think you have to do in order to go out because I'm taking you to get some lunch and on to the firing range. I want to teach you how to load, unload, clear jams and use this weapon safely and correctly."

  She looked at the box and back to him. Slowly, some of the strain dissolved from her face. "Okay. I think maybe it would be a good idea. I hate feeling helpless.
"

  "That's my girl," he beamed. Standing, he picked up the box. "It'll also do you a lot of good to destroy some targets. It's the perfect way to relieve the stress you are shouldering. So I'll see you in the living room when you're ready."

  She stood and pushed her chair back. "Maddox?"

  He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her. "Yeah?"

  A mischievous grin lit her face. "Can I get a hot pink holster?"

  He raised one eyebrow. "Hot pink? You want to put a SIG Sauer firearm, the chosen weapon of the United States Navy SEALs, into a hot pink holster?" He sighed dramatically. "Dear, sweet, baby Jesus, woman."

  "With sparkles!" She added and giggled at his look of abject horror.

  Giving her a wave toward the stairs he said, "Go on before my team shows up and confiscates both my man card and my trident pin for even considering it."

  She hurried by him, stopping only to rise on her tiptoes and kissing him quickly. "Thank you," she whispered and hurried up the steps.

  Curling his fingers around the edge of the box, he watched her climb, his eyes as always on the seductive sway of her rear. Shaking his head he turned toward the living room. If it got her out of the gloom she had been in, he would find her the most sparkly, brightest, neon pink holster he could.

  Maddox took the time to show her proper handling procedures with her new firearm she had nicknamed 'Betty'. He shook his head at her but smiled when she hummed the song, "Black Betty", under her breath while she loaded and unloaded the magazine several times.

  Now she was standing in one of the little cubbies wearing eye and ear protection and holding Betty firmly in her hand. Maddox's heat warmed her back as he curled his arms around her, bracing her arms and firming her grasp. One side of the ugly orange earmuffs was moved slightly so she could hear his instructions.

  "Keep both eyes open, sight down the barrel." His whispers brought forth gooseflesh on her arms. Shifting slightly, she heard his sudden intake when her rear brushed against his thigh. "Minx," he muttered but continued the lesson. "Remember to breathe like I taught you and squeeze the trigger. Don't pull it. There will be a bit of a recoil so be prepared for it. You ready to try?"

  She nodded and he took a step back after adjusting her ear covering. She missed his strength immediately but focused her attention on the hanging paper target at the end of the room. Sticking her tongue out slightly, she sighted along the barrel and squeezed.

  The sound of the discharge was loud even with noise suppression on. Adjusting her stance slightly she braced and fired again. Glancing over her shoulder, she grinned to see his approving smile. Turning her attention back, she fired off three more times before placing the weapon on the table in front of her. Holding her hands in the air to show she was unarmed like he had taught her, she took a step back. Pulling the earphones to rest around her neck, she grinned.

  Stepping into her space, Maddox pushed the button to bring the target to them. She jumped with a squeal when she saw all six shots had hit the paper. Only two of them went into the body outline - one in the top right shoulder and the other on the left ear. Neither of them would be fatal. However, she was still excited about actually hitting something and was not upset. Maddox took the paper and studied it.

  "You are holding your breath before you fire, Joselyn. Remember to breathe through the shots. These two," he pointed out two holes on the top furthermost from the outline, "are from pulling the trigger instead of squeezing. But to hit the target at all your first time isn't bad. Let's put another one out. Reload and try again, yeah?"

  "Okay," she agreed.

  By the time she worked her way through the box of ammunition, she was consistently pegging the outline and her groupings were much improved. One of the holes could even be considered fatal. She shook her hand to work some of the soreness from her wrist while Maddox pulled the last target.

  "Much better, honey," he said encouragingly. "A few more trips here and I'll have you shooting like a pro."

  Just like that, all the worry and anxiety she had been feeling over the past couple of weeks evaporated like mist. He was so smart and caring. Best of all, he was giving her tools to ensure she didn't feel helpless any longer. The chances were she would never have to use this new skill set but at least she knew if things came down to it, she could. Though she hated to admit it, Maddox had been right; there was something healing about tearing holes through paper cutouts on the firing range.

  When he moved out of the cubby, she retrieved Betty and carefully checked to make sure she was empty. Pulling the magazine out, she placed it and the handgun into the box along with the bright pink camouflage holster she had purchased from the range's gift shop. The look on his face when she had chosen the gaudy thing was absolutely priceless.

  Tapping her earphones, he winked at her and pulled his own snugly on his ears. Understanding filled her as she hastened to protect her hearing. She stood back and to the side of him. Once she was ready, he took a step forward, drew his firearm, aimed and let go with a half dozen shots in rapid succession. Joselyn's eyes widened as she watched her man in action. She giggled to herself. He was hot when he went all alpha badass!

  Flicking the safety on, he replaced the SIG into his holster and pushed the button. Joselyn gasped when she saw the target. There were six perfect little holes all less than a quarter inch apart right in the middle of the target's head. Holy cow!

  She must have said it out loud because he laughed. "Lots of training and a ton of practice rounds. We spent hours honing our skills."

  "You were a sniper, weren't you?"

  He dropped his chin in a nod.

  "Can you show me?"

  He hesitated a moment and nodded again. Taking a marker from the table, he drew four quarter size circles in the white surrounding the black outline. Hanging the target, he let it go as far as it could until it was almost against the far wall. Once it stopped swaying, Maddox stepped forward, donned his protection and looked down the range. Suddenly, in a blur of movement, he drew his weapon, flicked the safety and fired four rounds. Securing it once again, he stabbed at the button and stepped out of the way. Pulling the target from its clips, Joselyn stared in shock at the four circles. Each one was neatly pierced by a single hole with only one circle missing the tiniest bit of one side.

  Taking the paper from her hands, he wadded it and tossed it into the trash. "Come on, let's go," he said to her and lead her out the door. Stepping back into the much quieter shop, Maddox stopped to purchase another box of ammunition and a cleaning kit. "You need to learn how to take care of Betty too," he said. "Always clean and oil her after shooting a box. If you don't take care of her, she won't be ready to take care of you."

  Joselyn nodded absently as she followed him out the shop and to his truck. Buckling in, she watched him as he began the drive back home. She knew deep in her heart that Maddox would be good with a firearm. He wasn't merely good, he was deadly and she was glad all that ability was aimed at protecting her body and soul. She glanced over at him and slid her hand over until it touched his leg. He turned his attention to her briefly with a smile before returning it to the road.

  Her big, SEAL protector was more than capable of taking care of her and she was so grateful for Detective Jameson putting him into her life. Maybe the police would catch Beecher before Maddox ever had to use any of his training for her. Regardless, she was glad to know he was there for her anyway and it made her feel special and cherished. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he would willingly give his life for her. It was ingrained into his very DNA to be this protective. It didn't surprise her at all when she considered the depth of commitment toward her because she felt the same way. They were one cohesive unit now. Yin and Yang, two halves of the same coin. She squeezed his leg and pulled her hand back. His hand shot out his hand and grabbed it.

  "I like it there," he commented and placed it back on his thigh.

  She sighed softly and laid her head against the headrest, not taking her gaze
from his handsome face. "And I like you here," she murmured. "I know you'll keep me safe."

  "Forever."

  Maddox's cell rang and he punched a button on the steering wheel to activate the blue tooth hands-free feature. "Yeah," he said into the air.

  "River, where are you?" Detective Jameson' voice sounded strange. "You have Joselyn with you?" There was a lot of noise in the background like people talking and weird electronic dings. Then a door closed and the noise ceased.

  "Yeah, we're on our way home. I'm about two miles out. Why?

  Bull ignored his question. "Joselyn, can you hear me?"

  "Yes, Detective Jameson." She looked at Maddox with a quizzical glance. What was going on?

  The relief was clear in his voice. "Good, good. Do you know the Progues? They live across the street and down a couple of houses from you."

  "Velma and Arlan? Yes. Well, no more than neighbors." An ugly feeling twisted in her gut. Why would Detective Jameson be asking her about them?

  "River, pull off the road. I don't want you wrecking."

  Crap. This couldn't be good.

  Apparently, Maddox thought the same for when he pulled the truck over into an empty lot, he cursed. Throwing the truck in park, he said, "What's going on?"

  The sound of a drawn breath emitted from the speakers. "There's no easy way to put this so I'm going to throw it out there. Velma and Arlan Progue were found this afternoon by their daughter. She had gotten worried when she hadn't heard from them since they came home from a trip. They had been attacked."

  Joselyn gasped. "Attacked?" She felt the blood drain from her face. "Are they alright?"

  "Yeah. They are alive, locked in the basement. Luckily, there is a bathroom there so they could get water but neither had eaten in several days; the little bit of food they had run out quickly. Velma's had a slight stroke. The doctor thinks it's stress related but they won't let anyone see her until she stabilizes. I talked to Arlan and he told me they had hired a man to house sit for them while they were away on a cruise in Europe. The man's name is Artemis Snowden."