Sheltered by the SEAL: The Inheritance (HERO Force Book 2) Read online

  “You think the next heir in line is the killer.”

  “Exactly. And the person who’s after you.” Jax stared in his rearview mirror. “Don’t turn around, but we’ve got a tail. They’ve been following us since we left the hotel.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “They’re always two cars behind us. Never right behind, but twice now I’ve sped up and they catch up, then get two cars behind. When I stopped for gas, they stopped, too, but no one got out of the car. They want me to know they’re there.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Aren’t you going to drink yours?” He’d gotten her a double espresso at the gas station, something he knew she liked, but he was nearly done with his cup and she had yet to touch hers.

  “I gave it up. If there is someone following us, they must have been following us yesterday, too.”

  “Not necessarily. I would have noticed if they were. Hang on.” He cut across two lanes of traffic to exit at a rest stop that advertised a McDonald’s and a Starbucks Coffee.

  Jessa turned around. “They kept going.”

  Jax parked the truck and turned to her. “There must be a transmitter on something. What did you bring with you?”

  “Just my purse and the book.”

  “Let me see your purse.”

  “I don’t think…”

  He picked it up off the floor. “We’re looking for something small, probably plastic but it could be metal.” He began digging through the contents of her purse. Within moments, he withdrew a cube slightly smaller than an old flash bulb. “Bingo.”

  “That’s not mine,” she said.

  “A GPS transmitter. It’s reporting our location as we speak. These are professionals, not amateurs, Jessa.”

  Maybe even professional hit men.

  The thought was unsettling.

  Jessa held the transmitter in her palm. “Whoever broke into the house must have put it there.”

  “My guess is, we’re going to find our dark sedan within a mile or two of this rest stop, pulled over with imaginary car trouble and waiting for us.”

  “What do we do now?”

  Jax looked around the parking lot. “We find a rest stop employee who didn’t bother to lock his car. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

  He made his way briskly across the parking lot to a row of cars set apart from the masses of highway traffic. The second car he tried was unlocked, and the gate pass he was looking for was tucked neatly under the visor.

  He climbed back in next to Jessa, handing her the card. “This will get us out the backside of the rest stop through the employee entrance. Our tail is going to take awhile to catch up to us once he realizes where we’ve gone.”

  He reached for his drink, only to find them both missing. “What happened to my coffee?”

  “I threw it away. That much caffeine isn’t good for you.”

  “You threw out my coffee?”

  “Why don’t we just throw the GPS in a trash can, too, so this person stops following us?”

  “Because it’s time to find out who’s after you, and we’re going to use the GPS as bait.” He swung around behind the rest stop service building. “You’re lucky we’re in a hurry, or I’d run inside Starbucks and buy two more.” He shook his head. “Who throws away someone else’s coffee?”

  15

  Jessa’s stomach was refusing to settle this morning, even after she’d dumped the coffee. The smell that had started her insides cartwheeling was still threatening to turn into something far more disgusting.

  She watched as Jax unpacked his weapons from the bed of the truck. Rifle cases, pistol cases, a small box that looked a lot like a briefcase. That one probably held the explosives. She closed her eyes and shimmied her shoulders, a cold breeze seeming to blow through her.

  She’d grown up around guns, and Ralph certainly owned more than his fair share. There’d even been a time when she enjoyed shooting, but that was before she was married to Ralph and saw him come home twice with bullet wounds. That was enough to make her shy away from guns.

  She didn't want anything to do with HERO Force. There had been a time in her life when she thought it was an admirable organization, when she thought the men who earned their living working for it were a special breed.

  Now she just thought they were crazy.

  Why else would a man put everything and everyone he cared about on a back burner? Why else would the man she loved have put HERO Force before her happiness?

  She hadn't gotten over it. Hadn't moved on, hadn't found some way to forgive him. She hadn't become the person she used to be, and dammit, she was angry. Angry that Ralph was dead, and that a part of her had died with him.

  She hadn't wanted him to go on that mission to Steele's house. But had he listened to her? Of course not. He listened to the almighty HERO Force instead, and the commands of their fearless leader, Jax Andersson.

  Now here she was with Jax experiencing all of the same things she had experienced with Ralph, fighting all of the same battles she had thought were behind her, and she was highly aware of the baby in her belly who needed her protection and a safe, quiet life.

  The exact opposite of everything HERO Force stood for.

  Jax opened the rifle case and took out a weapon. He met her stare. "Do you know how to shoot?"

  "Yes.”

  "Do you want the Glock or the rifle?"

  Jessa closed her eyes. "Neither."

  "Our tail should be here momentarily. I might need some help from you."

  She thought of the baby in her belly and longed to find safety away from this place.

  You’ll never be safe so long as this person is trying to kill you.

  Jax eyed her warily. "I have no idea what we're going to be up against here, Jessa. I might need you armed."

  "I'll take the Glock." She inspected the magazine.

  “It’s like riding a bike. It will come back to you.”

  “Except a bike is more fun and doesn’t kill anybody.”

  “Right. Except for that.” He winked at her, and she felt a flash of annoyance.

  “How long do you think we have?” she asked.

  “A few minutes, at least. If this guy is coming after you with a weapon, you pull the trigger. Do you hear me?” A gust of wind blew her hair in her face and she flipped it back, pretending not to notice the way Jax looked at her when she did.

  Jax began to walk. “Let’s get into the trees and find a good place to hide.”

  She walked quickly behind him, suddenly feeling very unsafe in the clearing, panic rising within her like a quickly burning fire.

  Jax hopped over a large felled tree, then held out his hand to help her across. "We'll be safe here. At least for starters."

  "Well, that's super comforting."

  Jax chuckled. "I said it just to make you feel better, too."

  Jessa kneeled down in the brush, a spongy layer of damp leaves wicking moisture onto her pants and the earthy smell of the forest surrounding her. She imagined this was what a hunter must feel like.

  Better the hunter than the hunted.

  She said a silent prayer for their safety, suddenly fearful for herself and her child. If Jax knew she was pregnant, he never would have asked her to arm herself and watch his back. But who did he have besides her to do it?

  Jax turned to her, his face utterly calm and in control. "You stay here. God willing, I'll be doing this alone. But if he comes for you, use your weapon. Don't be afraid of this bastard, Jessa."

  She nodded curtly. “You already said that.” The sound of an approaching vehicle could be heard in the distance.

  "Get down now."

  She did as she was told, pressing her body against the trunk, only vaguely aware of the rotting bark and damp mold against her skin. She was focused on the metal in her hand, the butt of the Glock seemingly the only sure thing in existence.

  Jax moved ten feet away t
o a large bush. She looked at him questioningly, and he gestured for her to stay put.

  He doesn't want to be near me, in case the bad guy gets too close.

  She swallowed hard against the dryness in her throat, refusing to let herself think about what that might mean. In the clearing below, a car came into view, circling once before stopping.

  The driver got out.

  He was short, with whitish-blond hair that blew in the breeze, and for a moment she thought he looked harmless. He spun around once, slowly, then he went back in his car and retrieved a large semiautomatic weapon. Jessa’s stomach danced, and she wished she’d been sick already so maybe the nausea would leave her alone.

  You have to be strong. Two of you are going to walk out of these woods, and that man isn't one of them.

  They just had to wait.

  Another gust of wind blew through the trees. With these conditions, he had to be closer for Jax to aim reliably. He would get one shot that had the benefit of surprise. Anything after that would be a battle.

  So they waited as the white-haired man slowly got closer.

  Jessa was bent over behind the log, holding herself at an uncomfortable angle. The muscles of her arms straining to keep herself still were suddenly too fatigued to continue, and her torso shifted an inch or two to the right. The bullet came so quickly she nearly gasped out loud, bark flying off the tree that hid her.

  Then Jax was firing, the rounds coming in quick succession, and she knew they were shooting at each other. She closed her eyes. She couldn't handle another one of them dying. Had barely survived the first. It occurred to her their odd little family was under fire — mother, child, unwitting father.

  A body hit the ground, the man grunting as he fell. She couldn't tell if it was Jax or their stalker.

  She was trembling, shaking in her own skin, fear for Jax and fear for her own safety intertwining. If it was Jax who remained standing, he would call to her. He would let her know.

  But he did not call, and with every passing second, the certainty he was dead sank into her flesh like the most vicious acid. She’d lost them both. Ralph and Jax were both dead now.

  The sound of footsteps approaching the log had her eyes opening wide. Terror and adrenaline surged through her system. There was no one to save her now except herself. No one to protect her baby except its mother.

  She trained her weapon over the log, her eyes making contact with the man. He raised his arm to fire, but she got off one shot before he could. He kept coming, the sound of his approach now slowed and echoing in her ears in slow motion.

  Damn it! How long had it been since she fired a weapon? How long since she’d worked to hit a target from any real kind of distance? The gun in her hand would only defend her if she could aim it well.

  She could hear Ralph’s voice in her head, reminding her to brace the gun on the log and look down the barrel, but to do that she would need to put her head in her attacker’s line of fire.

  Show me another way.

  The loud screech of a bird made her look up. A bald eagle flew overhead and straight for the shooter, who had no choice but to shoo it away, his attention now completely off of Jessa.

  She propped the Glock on top of the log and looked down the barrel. The white-haired man realized his mistake a moment before she fired, his jaw dropping as she pulled the trigger.

  A black dot appeared in the middle of his forehead. He swayed, then fell to the ground. The eagle landed on the forest floor just ten feet from Jessa.

  “Ralph?” she whispered. The bird tilted its head.

  Jessa’s mouth pulled down hard at the corners. “Thank you.”

  It stayed and stared at her for a beat, then flew away, its majestic wings lifting it high into the sky.

  I have to find Jax.

  She spun in a circle, frantically searching for him, then began running and calling his name, weaving in and out of trees, brush, and boulders. She finally spotted him on his side beneath a large tree nearly covered in brush.

  He was not moving.

  "Jax!" She was frantically pulling at him, tugging his body out from under the brush. Where was he hit? Was he already dead? She heard sobbing and realized it was coming from her own mouth.

  Her hands found the blood at the back of his head, warm and sticky and saturating his hair, and hoped the large rock beside him was to blame and not a bullet.

  “Jax! Can you hear me? I need you to wake up now."

  She made a fist with her hand and rubbed her knuckles along his sternum, deliberately causing him pain. His eyes opened as he moaned.

  "Jax, you have to wake up!"

  His eyes met hers, consciousness clear in their depths, and he winced. "You okay?" he asked.

  "Yes.”

  “The tango?”

  She gestured toward the dead man.

  He leveled his stare on her. “You did that?”

  She nodded, not yet able to comprehend that she’d taken a life. There’d be time for that later, when they weren’t standing so close to their own mortality.

  “Good job.” He sat up, his face scrunching into a wince.

  “Are you hit?” she asked.

  He felt around his arms and chest. “I don’t think so.”

  “Your shoulder,” she said, noticing the blood that was seeping through his shirt. “Let me see.” Gingerly, she lifted the fabric from his wound and looked beneath it. “It’s a flesh wound. It needs to be bandaged, and you probably have a concussion from the rock you landed on.”

  He grabbed on to a tree branch and pulled himself to a stand. “I’m fine. Let’s hit the road.”

  “At least let me drive. And we need to stop and get supplies to take care of your wound.”

  “You’re pretty cute when you worry about me.”

  “Don’t call me cute.”

  “Fine. Just don’t go all Florence Nightingale on me, batting your eyes and hoping I notice.”

  She opened her mouth and glared at him. He was smiling, and he winked. He put his arm around her. “It’s okay now, Jessa. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  16

  The law offices of Layton, Felder, Bach & Moore were in the center of downtown Boston and screamed of old money.

  "Just follow my lead," whispered Jax in Jessa’s ear as they were escorted into a conference room, a large painting of a mansion overlooking the ocean hanging in an ornate gold frame on the longest wall.

  Jessa stared at it as they waited for the lawyer to join them, rubbing one hand over the other.

  She’d killed a man today.

  There would be gunpowder on her hands from firing the gun. She wondered absently if it would wash off, or if days from now someone could test her hands for the chemicals and see what she’d done.

  If only the experience would wash away as easily as the gun powder.

  It was necessary, she knew, and given the same circumstance a hundred times, a hundred times she’d kill him. But somehow that didn’t make it much easier to swallow.

  When Ralph was a SEAL and later with HERO Force, she wouldn’t allow herself to think of the deaths her husband was responsible for. When he came home with injuries, she never once asked what the other guy looked like, or what harm Ralph had done.

  She didn’t like to think about people causing death, and now she was one of them. She rubbed her trigger finger with her opposite hand.

  “You okay?” asked Jax.

  “No.”

  He put his hand on her forearm. “Thank you for what you did today.”

  She turned and met his eyes. “You didn’t see him, did you?”

  “Who?”

  “The eagle. He swooped in and distracted the shooter so I could set up my shot.”

  “An eagle?”

  She nodded. “A bald eagle. Just like on the SEAL insignia. Without him we’d both be dead.”

  A knowing look settled over Jax’s features. “He helped you.”

  “He helped us.”

  The con
ference room door opened and a man in a suit and tie walked in. “Good afternoon. I’m Fred Bach. What can I do for you, Mr. Andersson?”

  “This is Maria Elena Cortez. She received a package from your law firm a few weeks ago with a book bequeathed to her from Mr. Harold Hopewell."

  "Yes, Mr. Hopewell has been a client here at Layton, Felder, Bach & Moore for many, many years. It was an honor to execute his final wishes."

  Jax leaned forward in his chair. "I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me about Mr. Hopewell's will."

  The lawyer frowned. "Once the person is deceased, their last will and testament becomes a matter of public record. Now, it can take some time for those documents to make their way down to the courthouse, or the records room, but the public is entitled to know what was written inside them."

  Jax nodded. "Great, then we shouldn't have any problems getting some answers."

  "What exactly are you looking for?" asked the lawyer.

  "I want to know what would have happened if Maria Elena hadn't been alive and well to receive this package from your law firm."

  The lawyer furrowed his brow. “That’s an odd question. May I ask why you’re interested?”

  “Someone broke into my home,” said Jessa. “I believe they were looking for the book.”

  “I see.” Fred walked behind his desk and opened a file. “So you’re thinking someone with a vested interest in the estate may have had something to do with that.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Actually, in this case, we had some trouble locating Ms. Cortez. The address we had on file for her was no longer valid, and we needed to hire a private investigator to track her down. It was several weeks before we were able to locate you, Ms. Cortez.”

  "But what would have happened if you hadn't been able to find me?"

  "Well, according to the provisions of the will, if the inheritance is returned to our law firm as undeliverable and we are unable to locate the heir, then the inheritance would be passed on to another beneficiary."