Assigned (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 3) Read online

  I shoulder my pack and stalk over to my truck, jump in and head home. My foot is heavy on the gas, thanks to the ball of anger swirling around in my chest. Of course, it’s only made worse when Lisa’s nasty response to my text pops up on the truck’s CarPlay.

  “We can talk later, but I’ve already spoken to my lawyer.”

  “Goddamn it.” I slam my hand against the steering wheel. She reported the incident to the lawyer. What the hell did Riley do? I know she wouldn’t do anything to endanger Mason. I know it in my bones. Something shifts in my chest. Then again, my bones have been wrong about her before. I gave her my heart and my soul once, only to have her stamp them with “Return to Sender” and walk away. Now I have to go home and grill her about what happened. Again, not what I wanted to do after the way I left things three weeks ago. The two times we spoke, it felt like we were putting that behind us, that we were back on solid ground. I’d hoped we could stay on that track once I got home, but this is my son, and I won’t lose my relationship with him for her or for anyone. She better have a good explanation for whatever she did that’s put a bee up Lisa’s butt.

  I open the truck windows, hoping the ocean breeze will calm me down, but no such luck. Not on a ninety-degree day with the humidity hovering in the low seventies. The air is a damp physical force to fight through and I’ve had too much fighting already. I rub my hand over my face. That’s got to be it. I’m tired. Maybe this isn’t as bad as I’ve made it out to be in my head. Lisa was never one to fly off the handle before, but maybe that’s changed.

  I’d better follow up and get a few more facts before my mind spins totally out of control. Opening my contact list on the screen, I press my lawyer’s number. As the phone rings, I formulate questions to ask, trying to think it all through calmly, rationally. Especially since Lisa sounded anything but. It’s a losing battle, though. When the call connects, my stomach plummets, anxiety gripping me by the throat.

  “Misoulis, Summers, and Associates. How can I help you?”

  “Hi, this is Lucas Craiger. I’m a client of Mr. Summers. Is he available?”

  “Please hold and I will check.”

  The music that comes on the line further grates my nerves. Who thought making a Muzak version of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” was a good idea? The guy in the car ahead of me is driving the . . . Exact. Speed. Limit. Like why? Shaking my head, I move into the left lane and pass the slowpoke. It’s not hard, bro. Just press down on the big rectangle.

  I shrug my shoulders to release some of the tension. The sooner I get off the road, the better. Driving this anxious, this angry, is not safe. Luckily, I’m not too far from home. Just need to hold on a little bit longer. I take a big deep breath and count to ten as I let it out.

  “Mr. Craiger. Nice to hear from you.” Dean Summers’s voice comes through the truck’s speakers.

  “Hey, Dean.” I take another measured breath. “Listen, just got home from training. Lisa called me pissed to holy hell. Said she reported an incident to her lawyer.”

  “Yes. I was waiting for your call. Seems your wife, Riley, sent someone to pick up your son when she was supposed to be the one to do it. The person wasn’t on the authorized card the school had, so they reached out to Lisa. Took them about thirty minutes to get clearance.” There was a pause. “To say Lisa was distressed is a bit of an understatement.”

  “Who picked Mason up?” Did Riley send Genghis Khan or something? She barely knew anyone in Virginia Beach. Who could she have sent?

  The sound of papers shuffling comes through the speakers. “An Inara Martinez.”

  Okay, this shouldn’t be too bad. Tony is actually on the emergency contact card as an authorized person to help with Mason. What’s the big deal? “She’s the wife of one of my teammates. Her husband is one of the points of contact, in fact. That doesn’t seem like something to blow a gasket over.”

  “Well, Lisa feels otherwise. And it does seem Riley didn’t give anyone a clear reason as to why this happened. She’ll only say she was held up somewhere and asked Ms. Martinez for help. That’s not quite all of it either. Looks like Mrs. Martinez had to actually meet Lisa to drop your son off when he was scheduled to stay with your wife. Again, Riley isn’t explaining any of it.”

  Something about this didn’t smell right, but that wasn’t really the point. “How is this going to affect the custody case?”

  Dean’s sigh traveled down the line. “It’s not good. Listen, you aren’t going to get full custody, we discussed this already. Not with your current occupation. But now they’re going to make the case that Mason shouldn’t be in Riley’s care, that she’s not trustworthy with the well-being of a child. That could greatly impede the time and circumstances you are actually around him.”

  What was Riley up to? Why couldn’t she just tell them what was going on? She was making this worse and worse by the second.

  God. Fucking. Damnit.

  “Listen, Dean. I gotta go. Let me talk to Riley. If I find something out that may be valuable, I’ll update you.”

  “Sure thing.”

  We disconnect as I pull into the driveway. I stare daggers at the door, every muscle in my body tense. Sitting here is doing no good. Time to rip this bandage off and see what the hell actually happened. Assuming Riley would explain anything to me. She wasn’t always willing to trust me anymore than she trusted Lisa.

  My footsteps thud on the steps to the front door. I take a few steps in and drop my pack with an even bigger thud. The air-conditioning provides some relief from the heat and humidity, but not from the tension that’s built up in the short time I’ve been back CONUS. I have come and gone from this house what feels like a hundred times and it’s never felt this damn crappy. Don’t I get one place in the whole freaking world to relax? Doesn’t seem like that much to ask.

  I take a few steps farther into the house and spot Riley in the living room, talking to someone through her headset. She looks up from the computer screen and waves. A big smile spreads across her face, only to fall a moment later. She could always read my moods and it seems like she isn’t missing how fucking pissed off I am.

  “Glad I could help. Have a nice day.” She presses a couple of buttons and pulls the headset off. Then she stands and makes her way over to me. “I can’t believe you’re finally home. Is everything okay? You look upset.”

  Is she for real? A sarcastic snort escapes my lips. “No, everything is not okay. Care to tell me why that is?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.” Riley furrows her brow, a slight tilt to her head. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to know about things that go on at work. Well, the secret stuff, anyway.”

  Seriously? She thinks this is about work? About the training I’ve returned from? “This isn’t about work. Why’d you send Inara to pick up Mason? Do you know the shitstorm you started?” My voice is loud, booming with anger. Yet, tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I counted on her. I believed in her. Is there a worse betrayal than betraying the trust of someone who puts their child in your care? I don’t think so.

  “Lucas—”

  “I may lose my son, not be able to have any relationship with him at all.” My voice breaks. “All because you couldn’t show up on time to pick him up for reasons you don’t seem to be willing to share with anyone.”

  “Lucas, I was at the doctor. I needed to get a CT scan done. It was last minute, an emergency. It wasn’t like I had a choice. You’re the one who told me to lean on the other wives if I needed to and I needed to right then.” Riley straightens to her full height.

  “Why not just tell Lisa that, then? Why make it a big secret and let her spin lies about it?” Damn it. I get that she wants her privacy, but this is my kid we’re talking about.

  Tears streak down Riley’s cheeks. “This is what I was afraid of when I told you about being sick. Or at least one of the things. I was afraid Lisa would find out and make some kind of case that I couldn’t be relied on because of my Crohn’s. Now she’s doing exactly t
hat without even knowing the full extent of it. I missed picking up Mason once because of a doctor’s appointment that went too long and she’s using it against you. Against us.”

  Dammit to hell. Not what I was expecting her to say. Though, I’m not sure what I thought her answer would be. I pace back and forth across the room, fingers clenching and unclenching, as I try to release the tension and anger from my body.

  The situation is all too much. What am I supposed to do?

  “I need to get cleaned up.” I turn and head upstairs to my room.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Riley

  I listen to Lucas stomp up the stairs. A few minutes later, the water turns on. I have a few minutes to think, to figure out what to do here, what’s right for me, for Lucas, and, most importantly, for Mason.

  So much for the euphoria of life working out. I should have known better. I keep trying to prove I’m more than my disease and my disease keeps shoving me aside to show the world that it’s what I am—all I am.

  Raking my hands through my hair, I let out an audible groan. Tara was a sign, one I missed. The universe’s way of telling me things won’t ever be normal. Look what happened to her. Even with me trying to help, the preteen wasn’t able to do what the other kids did. She needed someone by her side to help.

  Like me. Which means if I can’t pull my own weight, I’m nothing more than a burden. Just look at the mess Lucas and poor Mason are in now because of me.

  Maybe it’s time to stop fighting. Maybe it’s time to let him, let them, go. Find someone who is better suited for this family and their needs. Based on what Dr. Patel told me, the next few weeks are likely to be ugly. I’ll be even more of a burden, and what if Lucas gets sent away for work again? I won’t be reliable. I won’t be the strong one. I won’t be standing by his side. I’ll be curled up in bed in pain and we’d have to saddle one of the other wives to help care for me. Like they don’t have their own lives, their own families to care for.

  And that’s the best-case scenario. If the operation Dr. Patel says I need doesn’t go well, if things go sideways like they did with my appendectomy . . . well, it could be months—hell, years—before I’m okay again.

  And Lucas will sacrifice everything to take care of me. Though, not sure how much control he truly has when it comes to his job. But I know he’d try, even possibly throwing away all his hard work.

  I have to go and I have to make sure Lucas doesn’t follow me. I drop my face to my hands. It’s a replay of what happened all those years ago between us. I’m going to have to hurt him to save him from himself. To save him from me.

  The water’s still running upstairs, so I go back to my computer to work. But my mind is a mess. My stomach aches, my heart hurts, and my fingers shake. Why does doing the right thing, the best thing for someone you love, have to hurt so much?

  Thirty minutes later, Lucas comes back downstairs. He looks into the living room, but seeing I’m on the phone, he heads into the kitchen. Once I am done speaking with a customer, I disconnect from the call center that transfers customers to my line and head into the kitchen myself to find my husband leafing through the pile of mail on the island and eating a turkey sandwich.

  I straighten my spine, hoping the improved posture will give me the strength to get through this. “I think we should talk.”

  He tosses the phone bill he’s holding on the table and takes the last bite of his sandwich. I walk to the island across from him, shoulders back and chin up. “I’m having some problems because of my Crohn’s.”

  His gaze shoots to lock with mine. “Okay. How bad is it?”

  His brows furrow, like he thinks this is a problem he can solve. But he can’t. I place my hands on the cool granite, as if it can support me both emotionally as well as physically. “It’s pretty bad. Worse than I let you think. In fact, it always has been. I’ve been a mess pretty much since the beginning. My meds stopped working not too long after I moved here.”

  “That’s why your doctor’s appointment was an emergency? Why you couldn’t pick up Mason?” He looks so tired. I hate dumping this on him right when he’s come home from such a long time away, but if I don’t do it now, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to do it later. Another night in his arms and I may not be able to make myself leave.

  “Yes, and it’s why I was hoping I could be part of a clinical trial, get access to some new drugs that might help.” I square my shoulders. “It hasn’t been easy. The drugs are expensive. So are the scans and the surgeries. It’s why I had to rely on my parents for everything. I hated it. I felt like I was suffocating. As soon as I went into remission, I moved to get away from them, but then I had to figure out how I was going to pay for what I needed to stay alive.”

  He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there and listens.

  “I started having flare-ups and nothing I was doing helped. Everything that I might be able to try was too expensive. At least, it was with my insurance. But not with the kind of insurance a military spouse gets.”

  I look down at my hands and fidget. I hate the things I’m going to say next. Time to come clean. Regardless, this was bound to come out sooner or later. “It’s why I joined the program.” I lift my head and look him directly in the eye, trying to keep the tears from forming in mine. “You kept saying something didn’t add up, that I was holding something back. You were right. I joined the program to get health insurance. It’s the whole reason I’m here. It’s the only reason I’m here. It’s why I’ve been trying to make you believe we’re really together again.” I watch the impact of my lie hit him.

  Without a word, he picks up his keys and walks out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lucas

  That’s it. Stick a fork in me. I’m done. Thoughts bounce around in my head like bullets ricocheting off steel walls. She said she was here for the duration, that she was in it for real. But bits and pieces of other conversations come back to me. That day in the therapist’s office when Dr. Stehman asked why Riley had joined the program and it took her a while to come up with an answer. Her insistence on finding a job as “a backup plan.” It wasn’t a backup plan. I was the backup plan, the stopgap she needed to have insurance until she got a job with benefits and the benefits kicked in. She wasn’t here for the long haul. She didn’t want us to be a family. She wanted fucking access to prescriptions she couldn’t afford on her own.

  She didn’t love me. She didn’t love Mason. We were tools to get what she wanted, and I’d bet dollars to donuts she was planning to head out the door as soon as she got it. And I’d fallen for it, fallen for the sweet smiles and those sweet, sweet nights she spent in my arms.

  She’d promised she wasn’t going to hurt Mason, that she wasn’t going to walk out. Yet, here she is, admitting that the only reason she’s stayed married to me so far is for insurance. Insurance!

  I get in my truck and the tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down my face. My chest heaves. I lay my head on the steering wheel, feeling the muscles of my chin tremble against my will. Static buzzes in my head, drowning out my thoughts. I straighten and look out the windshield, as if the sunlight can soothe me. It can’t. I’m not sure anything can.

  I put the truck in gear and back out of the driveway. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I’m not staying here.

  I’m losing my son and I’m losing Riley all over again. The two people in the world who mean the most to me. And there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing I can do about it. Every way I turn is the wrong way. Every step I take mires me deeper in the mud.

  I have never felt so completely helpless.

  I’ve worked so hard to get where I am, to prove her father was wrong about me and what I could become. I can put food on the table and clothes on their backs and a roof over their heads and it means nothing because this is a problem I can’t fix.

  I can’t fix her medical issues. Can’t make her love me. So, in the end, I’m still going to end up a
lone because all it seems I have to offer anyone is health insurance and a paycheck. And just look at my son—what do I have to offer him? Riley was the one who stepped up. Not me.

  I shake my head. One thing’s for sure—what little I can offer my son, even if it is just financial security, I’ll do it. Because I know what it feels like to be the kid growing up in a family, worrying if we would have enough to eat for the week.

  Softly splashing water droplets hit the windshield as my wipers whoosh back and forth. I don’t know how long I’ve been on the road because there was no destination in mind. But it’s been long enough that the gas tank starts to get low. Neither the rhythm of the rain nor the trip calms my nerves. And the roads are becoming slicker by the second, which means I need to find another outlet to help calm my emotions.

  I tap the button on my steering wheel, which activates the hands-free phone connection. The cabin fills with the loud sound of ringing five times before Martinez picks up.

  “What’s going on? Everything okay?” He sounds half asleep. Of course he does. Anyone who had gotten back from the training we’d just gone through and who had a lick of sense should be home and in bed after a home-cooked meal and a welcome-home fuck from his hot wife. That’s what I hoped I’d be getting for the nanosecond before my phone rang with Lisa’s name in the caller ID. Before everything when to shit faster than grease through a goose.

  “Nothing good.”

  “Speak to me.” His tone is louder and crisp, as if he’s been awake for hours.

  “I . . . I . . .” I can’t. I can’t choke out the words.

  A heavy sigh cuts through the speakers. “Pendejo, it’s raining and you are driving this upset. Meet me at Shaken & Stirred in twenty minutes before you get yourself killed.”