Breaking point, p.16
Breaking Point, page 16
Collette sobbed. “It’s Hope. Oh, sweet Jesus, get there already!”
Once the man had the woman aboard, Mr. Earles started up the steps.
The man in the plane stuck his foot out the door and shoved the janitor in the chest, sending him flying backward. He pulled the steps up, and the plane taxied down the runway heading away from John’s truck.
“No!” Collette yelled.
John pushed the truck even faster, catching up to the jet and racing past it. When he was far enough in front of the plane, he jammed on his brakes and spun the wheel, turning the truck sideways, blocking the runway.
Collette ducked, prepared for impact and held her breath.
“He doesn’t have enough speed built up to fly over us,” John said quietly. “The pilot has two choices. He can crash into us or hit his thrust reversers.” He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.
Collette held her breath for the longest second of her life.
The plane slowed.
“He hit the thrust reversers,” John said in a rush of air.
When the plane had slowed sufficiently, the pilot turned it around.
“He’s not going anywhere,” John said.
He was right. The other trucks filled with Deltas, along with the four police cars, blocked the runway from the other direction.
The plane came to a halt in the middle of the runway.
The police rushed the plane and yelled, “Come out with your hands up!”
The steps were lowered, and someone stepped out, hands held high, red hair flying in the breeze.
“It’s Hope!” Collette shoved open her door and jumped out.
John was a second behind her, grabbing her arm. “Wait. They might be armed.”
Once Hope was on the tarmac, a policeman rushed her toward a squad car and out of harm’s way.
A man stepped out of the plane with his hands up, followed by two more, one being the pilot.
They were cuffed and taken away by the police. An officer climbed into the aircraft, searched for others and declared it all clear.
At that point, John released Collette. Together, they ran to where Hope stood beside Rucker’s truck. Collette flung her arms around her daughter and sobbed.
Hope soothed her mother’s hair back. “I’m okay, Mom. Really.”
For a long moment, Collette held her daughter. When she stopped shaking, she set Hope at arm’s length and studied her face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Hope nodded. “I’m sure. I have a little knot on my head, and I’m a little groggy from whatever he injected into me, but I’ll be okay.”
An ambulance arrived. Hope rejected the ride, pointing to Mr. Earles still lying on the ground. “He needs you more than I do.”
“He needs to be well enough to stand trial,” John stated, his jaw tight. “That man needs to rot in prison.”
“Yes, he does,” Hope said. “He admitted to selling a dozen women to human traffickers.”
Rucker swore beside her.
“The only good news is that he kept good records of who they were and who purchased them.” Hope nodded toward the janitor. “He has it all saved in a file on his phone. He was very proud of that fact. So proud he shared it with me.”
“We’re taking you to the hospital,” Collette said. “I want to make sure you won’t have any adverse effects for the drugs he gave you.”
Hope sighed. “Okay. Then I want to hit the I-Hop for pancakes before we head home to bed.”
Collette chuckled. “Yeah, you’re going to be okay.”
Hope wrapped one arm around her mother and the other around John. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.” She nodded to the other Deltas. “All of you.”
John leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I like to think that if I’d had a daughter, she’d be as smart and brave as you.”
Hope smiled up at him. “Are you applying for the job?”
John laughed, and then turned serious. His gaze met Collette’s over Hope’s head. “I might just do that. I’d be honored to get the job.”
Hope hugged him. “And I’d be thrilled to call you Dad.” She turned to her mother. “What do you say?”
Collette’s brow furrowed. “You’re doing it again,” she said, a smile forming on her lips.
John gave her an innocent expression. “Doing what?”
“You know what,” Collette said. “Making up my mind without asking me first.”
Hope backed out of their arms and stepped closer to Rucker. “I’ll just let you two figure this out on your own.”
John took Collette’s hands in his. “I thought it was too soon.”
Collette looked down at their joined hands. “So did I. But this…” she tightened her hold on him, “feels right.” She looked into his eyes, hers blurring with tears. “Do you want me to be part of your life?”
“Hey, who’s doing the proposing here?”
“Oh, come on,” Hope said. “Just ask, kiss and let’s get pancakes.”
John’s Delta friends burst out laughing.
John dropped to one knee. “Okay, okay.” Still holding Collette’s hands, he looked up at her. “You know you have a pushy daughter, right?”
Collette chuckled, the sound catching on a sob. “I know. She’s just like me.”
“Must be why I love her so much.” He pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I love you, Collette. I want to watch sunsets on our back porch for the rest of our lives. Are you in?”
“What kind of proposal is that?” Hope rolled her eyes. “Do I have to coach you on everything?” She stepped forward. “John, do you want my mom to marry you?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“Mom, do you want to marry John?”
A grin spread across Collette’s face as John rose to his feet. “I do.”
“Done.” Hope marched toward the truck on the other side of the plane. “Let’s get pancakes.”
Epilogue
“You couldn’t have picked better weather for your housewarming party.” Rucker lifted his beer in salute. “Congrats. It’s amazing.”
John stood at the grill, monitoring the steaks, tongs in one hand, Collette pressed against his side. “The house wouldn’t have looked nearly as nice without Collette’s decorating ideas.” He brushed her lips with a brief kiss before turning to flip a steak over to sear on the other side.
“How is Hope doing with the drive to and from school?” Rucker’s fiancée Nora asked.
“Great. I gave her my old car.” Collette smiled up at John. “John insisted on getting me a newer one to get me to school.”
“We miss you at the Salty Dog,” Red said from her perch beside Blade on the porch steps. “You know you can come help out anytime. We can always use another redhead slinging drinks.”
“Thanks. I might do that. I like the tips. But for now, I’m concentrating on school. I don’t want John to think I married him so that he could take care of me. I like to pull my own weight.”
“Here! Here!” the ladies said, lifting their beers high. “To independence and equality in relationships.”
“And to being on top.” Red winked.
“Sophia,” Blade admonished, his cheeks flushing a ruddy red.
She looked at him innocently. “What? So, I like to be on top. You know you like it, too.”
He pulled her into a tight hug and planted a loud kiss on her lips. “I do. But that’s our little secret.”
“Ha!” Dash laughed. “There are no secrets on our team.”
“That’s right,” Blade said. “If we don’t tell them, then our women will.”
Red slapped his shoulder. “Who spilled the beans about John falling in love first? You.”
John looked up to see Lance walking toward him from the fence they’d spent the past weekend putting up. “Here comes the last man standing.”
“We really need to find him a woman,” Nora said.
“Don’t do me any favors,” Lance said. “I like my life the way it is. I don’t answer to anyone but the Army. I can go where I want, when I want, sleep in the nude and scratch whatever itches without offending anyone in my house.”
Beth leaned close to Nora. “You’re right. He needs a woman. We’ll have to put our heads together and find him his perfect match.”
“I’m serious. I don’t need a woman in my life,” Lance said, his eye narrowing.
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” John said. He gazed into his fiancée’s eyes, a rush of happiness washing over him. “I got a bonus when I fell in love with you.”
“Hope,” she said, smiling up at him.
He nodded. “She’s smart like her mother.”
“And smart mouthed.”
“Also like her mother.” He kissed her before she could protest, loving that she didn’t care that he’d won that argument.
“What do you think about children?” Collette asked.
“You already know. I love Hope. She’s family, and I’m thrilled that she wants to call me Dad.”
“I know, but what do you think about small children?”
He frowned. “What do you mean what do I think? Kids are great.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said and pulled a plastic stick out of her pocket, holding it up for him to see. “You’re about to find out what it’s like to have one.”
“Is that…? Are you…?” He dropped the tongs, picked Collette up and spun her around. “Woot! Did you hear that? We’re going to have a baby!”
Hope stepped out on the porch, carrying a tray with glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. She smiled. “You told him.”
Collette smiled as John set her back on her feet. “I did. I think he’s not very happy.”
“I’m not. I’m ecstatic. When?”
“Eight months. Early summer.”
His smile turned down. “Will you have finished your training?”
She tipped her head. “It’ll be close, but I think so.”
“You have to finish. You’ve worked so hard to be a nurse.”
She held up her hand. “I promise, I will.”
“I can learn how to change diapers. I’m good at staying awake all night. The only thing I can’t do is breastfeed.”
Laughter sounded all around him as his team gathered around to congratulate him.
John only burned two steaks, but it was worth it. He was going to be a father for the second time in his life.
After everyone had gone home and Hope had gone out with Ryan, John settled on the porch swing with the woman he loved and held her hand as they watched the sun set.
“I dreamed of sitting on this porch with someone special,” he said. “Someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I never believed dreams could come true. But here we are.”
“Funny,” she said. “I had a different dream…” She turned to him, a wicked smile on her face.
“Oh, yeah?” He cupped her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her lips. “What was it about?”
“It had to do with you and me and getting naked.” She pushed to her feet, took his hand in hers and cast one last glance at the sunset. “Last one in bed and naked has to be on the bottom.” She darted for the door.
John moved a little slower without being too obvious. He liked when she was on top. He’d never tell her, though.
Wyatt’s War
Hearts & Heroes Book #1
New York Times & USA Today
Bestselling Author
* * *
ELLE JAMES
Chapter 1
Sergeant Major Wyatt Magnus pushed past the pain in his knee, forcing himself to finish a three-mile run in the sticky heat of south Texas. Thankfully his ribs had healed and his broken fingers had mended enough he could pull the trigger again. He didn’t anticipate needing to use the nine-millimeter Beretta tucked beneath his fluorescent vest. San Antonio wasn’t what he’d call a hot zone. Not like Somalia, his last real assignment.
It wouldn’t be long before his commander saw he was fit for combat duty, not playing the role of a babysitter for fat tourists, politicians and businessmen visiting the Alamo and stuffing themselves on Tex-Mex food while pretending to attend an International Trade Convention.
The scents of fajitas and salsa filled the air, accompanied by the happy cadence of a mariachi band. Twinkle lights lit the trees along the downtown River Walk as he completed his run around the San Antonio Convention Center and started back to his hotel. Neither the food, nor the music lightened his spirits.
Since being medevaced out of Somalia to San Antonio Medical Center, the combined armed forces’ medical facility, he’d been chomping at the bit to get back to where the action was. But for some damn reason, his commander and the psych evaluator thought he needed to cool his heels a little longer and get his head on straight before he went back into the more volatile situations.
So what? He’d been captured and tortured by Somali militants. If he hadn’t been so trusting of the men he’d been sent to train in combat techniques, he might have picked up on the signs. Staff Sergeant Dane might not be dead and Wyatt wouldn’t have spent three of the worst weeks of his life held captive. He’d been tortured: nine fingers, four ribs and one kneecap broken and had been beaten to within an inch of his life. All his training, his experience in the field, the culture briefings and in-country observations hadn’t prepared him for complete betrayal by the very people he had been sent there to help.
He understood why the Somali armed forces had turned him over to the residual al-Shabab militants that were attempting a comeback after being ousted from the capital, Mogadishu. He might have done the same if his family had been kidnapped and threatened with torture and beheading if he didn’t hand over the foreigners.
No, he’d have found a better way to deal with the terrorists. A way that involved very painful deaths. His breathing grew shallower and the beginning of a panic attack snuck up on him like a freight train.
Focus. The psych doc had given him methods to cope with the onset of anxiety that made him feel like he was having a heart attack. He had to focus to get his mind out of Somalia and torture and back to San Antonio and the River Walk.
Ahead he spied the pert twitch of a female butt encased in hot pink running shorts and a neon green tank top. Her ass was as far from the dry terrain of Somalia as a guy could get. Wyatt focused on her and her tight buttocks, picking up the pace to catch up. She was a pretty young woman with an MP3 device strapped to her arm with wires leading to the earbuds in her ears. Her dark red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail bounced with every step. Running in the zone, she seemed to ignore everything around but the path in front of her.
Once he caught up, Wyatt slowed to her pace, falling in behind. His heart rate slowed, returning to normal, his breathing regular and steady. Panic attack averted, he felt more normal, in control and aware of the time. As much as he liked following the pretty woman with the pink ass and the dark red, bobbing ponytail, he needed to get back and shower before he met the coordinator of the International Trade Convention.
Wyatt lengthened his stride and passed the woman, thankful that simply by jogging ahead of him, she’d brought him back to the present and out of a near clash with the crippling anxiety he refused to let get the better of him.
As he put distance between him and the woman in pink, he passed the shadow of a building. A movement out of the corner of his eye made him spin around. He jogged in a circle, his pulse ratcheting up, his body ready, instincts on high alert. The scuffle of feet made him circle again and stop. He crouched in a fighting stance and faced the threat, the memory of his abduction exploding in his mind, slamming him back to Somalia, back to the dry terrain of Africa and the twenty rebels who’d jumped him and Dane when they’d been leading a training exercise in the bush.
Instead of Somali militants garbed in camouflage and turbans, a small child darted out of his parents’ reach and ran past Wyatt, headed toward the edge of the river.
His mother screamed, “Johnnie, stop!”
By the time Wyatt grasped that the child wasn’t an al-Shabab fighter, the kid had nearly reached the edge.
Wyatt lunged for the boy and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck as the little guy tripped. Johnnie would have gone headfirst into the slow-moving, shallow water had Wyatt not snagged him at the last minute.
Instead of thanking Wyatt, the kid kicked, wiggled and squirmed until Wyatt was forced to set the boy on the ground. Then Johnnie planted the tip of his shoe in Wyatt’s shin with razor-sharp precision.
Wyatt released him and bent to rub the sore spot.
Little Johnnie ran back to his mother, who wrapped her arms around the brat and cooed. Safe in his mother’s arms, he glared at Wyatt.
Wyatt frowned, the ache in his shin nothing compared to the way his heart raced all over again.
The boy’s mother gave Wyatt an apologetic wince and hugged her baby boy to her chest. “Thank you.”
A small crowd had gathered, more because Wyatt, the parents and child blocked the sidewalk than because they were interested in a man who’d just rescued a child from a potential drowning.
His heartbeat racing, his palms clammy and his pulse pounding so loudly in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else, Wyatt nodded, glancing around for an escape. Fuck! What was wrong with him? If he didn’t get away quickly, he’d succumb this time. Where was the woman in the pink shorts when he needed her? Some of his panic attacks had been so intense he’d actually thought he was having a heart attack. He hadn’t told his commander, or the psychologist assigned to his case, for fear of setting back his reassignment even further. He wanted to be back in the field where the action was. Where he was fighting a real enemy, not himself.
As it was, he’d been given this snowbird task of heading up the security for the International Trade Convention. “Do this job, prove you’re one hundred percent and we’ll take it from there,” Captain Ketchum had said. To Wyatt, it sounded like a load of bullshit with no promises.
