have a permanent spot on his shoulder, too—whispering into his ear. And here you thought you were taking it easy, sitting around the kitchen with your feet up.”
Taking it easy. She had no idea.
“I love you,” he heard her say right before his phone beeped.
He looked at it and yeah, the signal was gone.
Sitting around the kitchen … He’d been on dozens of dangerous missions. He’d risked his life more times than he could count.
None of it had been as hard as the past few hours.
Sam dialed Jules Cassidy’s phone number, left a brief message. “Alyssa called. She’s all right.”
Through the kitchen window he could see Meg and Joan and Savannah out in the backyard with Haley and the other girls.
Sam punched Johnny Nilsson’s cell number into his phone. The SEAL lieutenant was still out on a training exercise, so he left a voice mail. “Alyssa’s safe. I just got off the phone with her. But that’s not the only reason I’m calling. I think it would be smart if you brought your wife an armload of flowers when you came home,” he told his friend. “Tell Mike and Kenny, too. Not just tonight, but every night for the rest of your lives.”
It was already a half hour past Haley’s bedtime when Sam sat on the edge of her bed. He’d promised she could watch a little bit of the football game with him, only it had started later than he’d thought.
“You want Duck or Hippo in there with you tonight?” His daughter frowned, and he quickly added, “Or both, on account of it being a special occasion.”
“Because Alyssa’s okay?” Haley asked.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling into her anxious blue eyes. “And because she’ll be home the same day as your momma.”
Haley nodded, taking that in. “Amy said we had to stay outside in case you wanted to cry and say bad words,” she told him. “Did you?”
“I think I said a few,” Sam admitted. “And, yeah, I might’ve cried a little.”
Haley nodded, so seriously. “If you want, I could put my fingers in my ears, like when the fire truck goes by.”
Sam struggled to understand. “You mean … so you won’t have to hear me cry? Hale, I’m not going to—”
“In case you say more bad words,” she explained.
“I won’t,” he told her, struggling now not to laugh. “How about giving me a hug and kiss good night, Cookie Monster?”
“Sometimes there’s nothing to do but have a good ol’ cry,” she said, repeating his words from the night before. “If you want, I could cry, too.”
“No.” Sam smoothed back her hair and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, but no.” He tucked both Duck and Hippo in with her.
“If you want,” Haley suggested, clinging to his fingers, “I could hold your hand. Keep you company until you fall asleep. I’m not very tired.”
But her eyes were all but rolling back in her head. Amy had done quite a job, running Haley back and forth across the yard playing tag and Red Light Green Light and Follow the Leader and other games Sam didn’t even know the names of.
He’d keep that in mind tomorrow. Maybe they’d take a ride over to Coronado, buy a kite, and run up and down the beach a few thousand times.
“I love you, Hale,” he whispered, but she was already asleep.
Sam left her door open a crack and went into the living room, where he turned on the TV and watched the football game right to the bitter end.
He then watched the news, where the anchors solemnly reported that five members of Eugene Ryan’s delegation to Kazbekistan had died when their helo was shot down.
Five families had gotten the kind of phone call he’d been dreading. They had been given the message Meg and Savannah and all of the other wives of the SEALs in Team Sixteen prayed they’d never receive.
Their husband, wife, son, or daughter was never coming home.
It was entirely possible that any tears that Sam may have shed were the result of the Cowboys losing the game.
But probably not.
SAM TAKES AN ASSIGNMENT IN ITALY
2005
This story takes place some time after Breaking Point and before Into the Storm.
“Why,” Sam bitched into his cell phone on Tuesday night, “did Tom have to send me out here?”
His wife, Alyssa, didn’t answer, because she wasn’t on the other end. She was out handling a real case—an important case—so he was just leaving voice mail.
A known sex offender had gone missing. The man’s sister had hired Troubleshooters