Page 6 of The SEALs' Single Mom Baby Surprise

He does, describing how one of his specialists found some discrepancies in their supplies at the warehouse he oversees, how a pattern emerged, and that he didn’t think much of it until he got a series of phone calls after hours from people way too far up the food chain inquiring about the reports she sent in.

“She’s smart and driven. But she’s also a civilian, and I don’t want her put in any danger.”

“And getting phone calls from SECNAV has you worried.”

“Yes.”

“What do you need from me, old friend?” Although I already have a feeling what he’s going to ask of me.

“I’d really prefer that you don’t call me old. My kids do that enough as it is.”

We laugh together. I don’t have the kids to remind me of my age, but my body does it plenty. Forty-five is on the older end for a Navy SEAL, but if I stopped, I’d deteriorate before I got a chance to enjoy the free time.

I don’t much enjoy free time as it is.

“Can you and your team come in to help investigate?”

“Think this is more than mishandled paperwork?”

“I do. I wouldn’t normally ask, but I have a young civilian mom in the crosshairs. She doesn’t need to get any deeper in whatever this is. She’s been through enough.”

That sparks a deep sense of sympathy. Boone doesn’t coddle his personnel, so I can only imagine what his specialist has been through. And a single mom. Well, they’re always a soft spot for me, given how my mom raised me on her own for most of my childhood.

“Okay. We’ll be there at 0700.”

After I hang up with Boone, I call the two men on my team, giving them the rundown. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but it never does. I fix the collapsed birdhouse from out back before I bother crawling onto the couch.

The quiet haunts me. It never gets easier. Not when I can remember this house being so full of life.

I wake all at once with the sunrise. Like being jolted, my eyes open, and I’m back where it’s the hardest to be.

Two cups of coffee precede me to the base, where I carry in a tray of caffeine for my team.

“Hey, Boss.” Shepard grabs his coffee—always the one on the right—and lifts it in salute. “Thanks.”

I nod and swing the carrier toward Hastings, who nods with a soft thanks as he takes the one on the left. The one across from mine is for Boone.

“Thanks for coming in. I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but I really want this to be nothing.” Boone rubs his forehead, the kind of tiredness that comes from worry accentuating the lines of his face.

“You’re worried about the girl.” Shepard crosses his arms and leans against the desk where Hastings is working.

Boone laughs humorlessly. “Don’t let her hear you calling her a girl. Sloane is by far my best employee. She’s smart and resourceful, and she’s been through a lot. Especially this week.”

“Does that mean go easy on her or push some of her buttons?” Shepard’s brow raises, the start of a smile curving the edge of his mouth.

I shake my head.

“Push at your own risk.” Taking his first swig of coffee, Boone coughs. “I should have guessed. Black. Have you been talking to my wife?”

A smile cracks in me for a flash. “It’s how you used to take it.”

“It’s how we all used to take it. We were lucky enough to have coffee in that desert hellhole.”

“True.” My coffee is still black. It’s not something that’s ever changed for me. But neither has my lifestyle. I still frequent those deserts.

Boone can read it in my face, or from the smirk on Shepard’s. He grunts and goes to the end of the room to fix his coffee.

“She’ll be here shortly.”

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