Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs (40 page)

Kyle had found a picture tacked to the wall beside Malia’s pillow. “I think I have something.”

Jameson examined Kyle’s picture of the two American girls, golden blonde hair flowing in the sunshine with their mutual Syrian friend between them in a three-way hug. In the background was a house.

“See that?”

Jameson squinted, making out what looked like a portion of a tanned, sandaled leg and a small strip of white appearing to be the bottom hem of a kaftan. He stared into his LPO’s face.

“We got us a new sheikh,” whispered Cooper.

“Fuck!” Jameson sat on Maureen’s bed and knew the clues had just ratcheted up. The threat to Charlotte’s life was more eminent.

“Jameson, you’re gonna call the mother up here and ask her about this place. See if she knows it. She might not be honest with me,” said Kyle.

Mrs. Campbell was in near shock, her hair falling down over her neck after trying to secure it with a clip. Her mascara had run from crying. She was holding a stiff drink and smelled like she’d had a couple already when Jameson handed her the picture.

“You recognize this?” he asked.

She squinted, working on her focus, and then recognition came across her face. “That’s the Stadler’s place.”

“You know where it is?” asked Kyle, forgetting the rules of engagement.

“Yes, I’ve been there lots of times when the Stadlers lived there. But they moved to Florida about seven months ago. They tried selling the house and the little ranch. Couldn’t get enough, so I believe they decided to rent it out.”

Kyle and Jameson shared a look.

“It’s a ranch, too? Are there outbuildings and such?”

“Oh yeah, they raised chickens, although I don’t suppose they’re there now. They had a small barn and a shed for the apples they picked and sold in the late summer.”

“Ma’am, could you find me the address of this house, please?”

“Sure, I’ll do you better. I’ll give you the property flier. It has the address and a map on it. I saved a couple to send to them in Florida.”

All of the
SEALs had their Sig Sauers, never leaving home without them, sometimes another backup, and a KA-BAR strapped to their lower legs. No one had brought their MP5s, because they had been traveling to Tennessee to attend a concert, not go to war. Jameson heard the cursing in the background, as several felt they were under-armed and didn’t care for it one bit. The only time he’d seen his SEAL buddies act nasty was when something was wrong or missing with their equipment, or they’d contracted something that Anti-Monkey Butt Powder couldn’t handle.

Jameson hadn’t been brought up to speed yet, so all he had was his hunting rifle, but he was a crack shot, especially at long distances.

The little house came into view as their rented van pulled slowly into a clearing just outside a good view of the front porch. On a normal day, it would look like a welcoming rural homestead. But he knew it was the prison that held his daughter.

Kyle whispered instructions again, just like they’d discussed on the short trip over. Without IEDs or little flash bombs, they’d have to coordinate their attack flawlessly, if the surveillance proved to be accurate.

Armando came back with the information. He could hear the little girls playing in one of the bedrooms downstairs, supervised by one of the sitters, and everyone seemed to be doing fine.

Jameson leaned back into a tree, closed his eyes, and nearly lost his bowels, he was so grateful. Cooper and Fredo gave him an appreciative pat on the back.

“How many inside? Can you tell?” asked Kyle.

“Didn’t want to risk it, but I’m thinking I heard maybe five separate voices. They’re working on something in back, a new delivery of two-by-fours and some steel and bags of concrete, but no one working at this hour.”

“These fuckin’ maggots. You send some of them back to the source, and then they fly the coop and set up shop somewhere else,” whispered Fredo.

“Well, not this group. I don’t want anyone killed if we can help it. But if you see any of the girls in mortal danger, you have my permission to shoot. I’ll get the court martial, but you’ll be able to live with yourself, hear?”

“Yessir,” everyone whispered in unison. Everyone readied their weapons.

They checked their timekeepers and followed Kyle’s silent countdown, knowing when they were supposed to do what they’d outlined. Jameson and Jones were to go in through the window in the girls’ bedroom. Armando would take the rear door with Fredo behind him, and Kyle would take the front door breach. Anyone reaching for a gun would be disabled and killed if they didn’t stop. Anyone who held a hostage got a bullet to the head, plain and simple.

Like all their operations, the assault started on time with complete accuracy. The girls screamed when they heard the window shatter, running to their babysitter, but Charlotte’s eyes grew wide when she realized Jameson stood before her, on his knees, ready to accept the body slam she gave him. Even the sounds of gunfire in the next rooms didn’t faze her. Jameson held her close and assisted Jones in safely stowing the girls behind a mattress and box spring sitting near the outside corner. The SEALs propped the bed up with two sturdy wooden chairs and instructed the girls not to leave the area.

Jameson was carefully monitoring the emotional level of the teenager. He could see she looked scared and sported a recent black eye. “Are you Cissy?”

“Yessir,” she said sweetly. “God, I’m so glad you came.”

“You hurt? Anybody hurt?”

“I’m fine, but Maureen—”

The sounds of gunfire were over, and he heard a series of “clears” and knew it was safe to begin to breathe.

“Where are Malia and Maureen?”

“Malia went off to Chicago with Maureen to prepare for the wedding.” As an afterthought, she asked, “You don’t think they—”

Jones interrupted, “Cops’ll find them. Okay, Jameson, I’m going outside to make sure it’s safe.”

The tall, dark-skinned SEAL slipped through the doorway.

Jameson held the two little ones, their shaking bodies feeling cold. They were still in their nighties and were barefoot. Their feet and legs were dirty, faces smeared with what appeared to be jam, wispy hair flying up in all directions. He warmed them with his body, still aware of the sounds around him, especially outside.

“What were they going to do?”

“I’m so sorry. You her daddy?”

“Yes.”

“They had these girls sold to some guy in Chicago.” Her lip quivered. “I overheard them talking. The boys speak perfect English.” As she watched Charlotte being embraced, she added, “I didn’t know anything about this. They just showed up.” She began to cry, and Jameson pulled her over next to the other two girls and huddled with them all.

The SEALs walked through the bedroom door together with a swagger he hoped to have one day.

“Jameson, why is it that whenever we find you you’re surrounded by ladies?” Kyle barked. Armando and Cooper were trying not to laugh, but finally gave up.

Yeah, he knew how to charm the ladies all right. He knew how to sing a hit record and be the man on stage. All those things were good and honorable. But he was looking at the men he would die for, if need be, and they’d just saved the most precious thing in his life: Charlotte. They could swagger all they wanted, boast about their exploits, and be as obnoxious as hell, but they got the job done. For that, he would forever be grateful and not mind putting up with everything else.

‡

J
ameson clutched Charlotte,
wrapping her in his jacket. He smoothed her hair, kissed her forehead, and whispered to her over and over again how much he loved her.

She relaxed in his arms, and he was gratified to hear her begin to chatter just like the happy little girl he remembered. She was safe. His brothers had helped save her, and it now appeared she was resilient to the danger she’d just lived through. God knew, he’d be making sure she never wanted for anything the rest of her life. He would ache whenever he had to leave her, but he would always come home again to her and her mother.

Still clutching his daughter, he walked into the living room of the structure. Cooper and Fredo were stacking computers, cell phones, and piles of loose papers, throwing everything into cardboard boxes. Eight young men—children, really—sat with their backs against the wall. Four armed men lay dead on the floor.

Kyle was giving instructions to the locals by phone, directing them to bring a large van for what appeared to be quite a haul of information.

Sadly, they’d not found the sheikh, nor any of the older men, except one. He said his name was Assad, and he’d been an interpreter for American forces in Syria recently. The younger boys were zip-tied, their faces showing the shock and surprise of capture. Fredo let Assad chatter on, while the boys in front of him were restrained.

“Oh yeah?” Fredo remarked.

Assad was trying to talk his way into Fredo’s good graces, something Jameson knew wasn’t going to fly very long.

“You know, asshole, I’m about done with your bullshit.” Fredo picked up a wide piece of duct tape and placed it over Assad’s mouth. The strip was so long that it also covered his ears.

“That’s better,” Fredo said. Armando pushed Assad next to his Junior Militia and used the tape to wind around the man’s wrists several times.

Jameson was ready to get Charlotte home, but they waited for the emergency vehicles to arrive on the scene to take control of the prisoners and the intel.

He boarded the second seat in the van. Cissy and her other charge were helped to the rear seat, sitting securely between Coop and Fredo. Charlotte was curious at first, but then tucked her head under his chin, her fingers playing with the beads on his shirt, touching the different colors. His emotions welled up, and he began to silently sob. He didn’t want to scare her, so he took deep breaths to attempt to calm himself, part of the training he’d received, but also just instinct.

His SEAL brothers let him do this in private. No one consoled him. They let him deal with his joy and his pain as the van took them back home. He now realized that for every joy in life, which was so precious and fragile, there could always be a huge source of pain.

Not today.

Today, the good guys had won. Today, they were going to live to be with the ones they loved. He was sure that Kyle and Cooper, Armando, Jones, and Fredo were missing their wives, their girlfriends, and their own children. They followed every movement he made as he hugged the miracle of his own.

When they arrived at the house, he picked Charlotte up, heading for the front stoop. She’d begun to fall asleep, which he was grateful for. Lizzie met him half way, relief on her face as she hugged them both and received a tired return hug from Charlotte. Kendra took her daughter in her arms. Mrs. Gunther wrapped her arms around her daughter, who collapsed in her mother’s chest. They were led to an ambulance.

Lizzie pulled his head down. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, my love.”

All he could do was smile through his own tears, matching hers, and search how full his heart was, overflowing with the love of his women.

Next, Lizzie went to each of the SEALs and gave full-on, body slamming hugs and kisses, thanking them for their rescue mission. He followed along as she received embarrassed smiles from these tough guys, and saw their cheeks pink up. His beautiful Lizzie could melt the whole State of Alaska with her gracious, loving heart and warm smile. She would live with exuberance and the free spirit organically given to her from the day she was born. And he’d spend his life protecting that free spirit and making sure nothing would ever interfere with her happiness again.

One by one, people started leaving the house. Kendra transferred both girls, who were fast asleep and clutching each other, to her bedroom, instructing Jameson and Lizzie to take the other one.

“We all need to rest. I’ll do the duty in the morning and bathe the girls. I’m not going to do it now, nor do I have the energy to bathe myself,” her raspy voice chirped. “This has been quite a day, and I’m exhausted.”

Jameson suddenly didn’t feel so exhausted. He ushered his SEAL brothers outside and wished them farewell. He conversed with the police and Detective Blalock and shooed away a news crew with their satellite dish and white van. He locked the front door and saw that Blalock had put a detail out in front of the house. He was grateful for that, as well.

“You know what Charlotte told me when I gave her over to Kendra?”

“No. What, sweetheart?” He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, squeezing, and feeling so grateful to be alive.

“She said, ‘Mommy, can I tell you a secret?’ and I said, ‘sure.’”

He waited, leaning back to be able to view her pretty face in the reflection of the moonlight.

“She said, as she pointed in your direction, ‘That’s my daddy. And he loves me.’” Lizzie’s eyes filled with tears again. “You told her.”

“I don’t remember any of that, honey, but I must have. It just came out, I guess.”

“Well, she was listening. She heard every word. You’re gonna have to remember that in the future. She has very keen ears.”