Page 84 of The SEALs' Single Mom Baby Surprise

My hand tangles in her hair at the back of her head, rubbing the base of her skull and down her neck. She sighs, her lids flutter, and those stormy eyes peer up at me. I can’t keep my confession at bay. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

Her eyes round just a little, and they warm as she reaches up to brush her hand over my rough cheek. “You’ll make a good dad.”

I grin at her, my heart so full that it can’t be contained. Her smile back is a gift. I’ll never take it for granted after this. We float in this bubble for a minute before Cole stirs in the doorway. His nod toward the hall bursts the happy peace.

Dropping another kiss in her hair, I retreat, hating the worried line forming between Sloane’s brows.

Shep is waiting in the hall, fiddling with the bandage on his arm under his sleeve.

Cole’s back in boss mode as he wipes his palm across his jaw and chin. “The babysitter says Alistair picked Reese up early this morning with a smug lawyer and a police escort.”

Rage explodes inside me, mirrored in how Shep’s features shut down and his eyes harden. A phone is to his ear in seconds. After a pause, he breathes, “Do it.”

“He has to have some crooked friends in some high places.” My voice is nearly a growl as I pull out my own phone.

“Don’t we all.” Cole nods and brings his phone to his ear. It’s time to set this right and put that asshole in his place.

I have one contact that can help us cut through the red tape, and it’s someone I promised myself I’d never call, but there is no way that I can’t do this for Reese. For Sloane.

I press call on my ex-wife’s contact.

“Rhett?” Her voice tears into me, still so soft and accommodating when she says my name. “Is this a butt dial? Are you there? Rhett?”

“Sam. I need your help.”

Her laugh is soft. “Since when have you ever needed my help?”

I clear my throat. “Well, I need Frannie’s help.”

She sighs. “Frankie. Her name is Frankie.”

“Listen. Sorry. It’s about a six-year-old girl being taken from her mother while she was being held hostage by an arms dealer. Can you help?” I press on the spot between my brows as a headache starts to form.

Sam’s silence drops my hope. “If she’s been taken by the father?—”

“She hasn’t,” I cut in. “It’s complicated, but the man who’s taken her… he’s not her father.”

“You’d better explain. Wait. Let me grab her.”

And I unload the story for her because Frankie—the U.S. Marshall my ex-wife left me for—can cut through a lot of the red tape involved here. Especially since she works closely with the custody enforcement unit. It’s the only reason I’ve broken the six-month silent truce between us.

“Fuck. Okay. That’s a lot. But I can work with it. Let me pull some strings and push some papers over here. I’ll call you back when I’ve made progress.” Frankie’s voice is low, solid, and sure. She’s a beast when she takes charge. I’ve only seen it once, but it was enough.

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“No. But you can forgive Sam and come to dinner next time she invites you.” And there’s the blow.

I suck in a deep, steadying breath. Grating against my pride, Reese’s safety and Sloane’s happiness mean more. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

“Talk soon.” And the line goes dead.

I need to move to burn off this overwhelming heat. My agitated steps draw the attention of the reporter who's been nosing around to get a story. We haven’t let her anywhere near Sloane, but now… Now, that doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

Her microphone is up and her camera man is at attention as I approach. “You’re one of the SEALs that came in with the recovered hostage. Can you tell me about what happened?”

I wave my hand to cut her off. “We have something more important to talk about, and if you can help me, I’ll give you an exclusive.”

She blinks her big, brown, owlish eyes at me before she tucks a tight curl back behind her ear. The microphone doesn’t lower an inch. “What kind of important thing?”

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