Page 7 of Grissom
A deadly growl percolated from deep inside Grissom’s chest. Damn it. He shut down the thought of Pam and Estes acting like man and wife in front of his sons. Way down. This was a new day, and if his boys were in there—
“Besides,” Beckam added. “That’s the only room with its drapes pulled shut.”
Oh, yeah. Grissom noticed that now, too. Opening his door, he put a boot on the ground. By the time he was upright, Murphy was standing on his right, Shane on his left, both with pistols drawn. Grissom blinked, and just that fast, Beckam, Taylor, Cord, and Walker were with him and also armed. He hadn’t thought to pull his pistols. Honestly didn’t need them if his boys were in that room.
The nightmare in Syria roared back to life, screaming a bloody vengeance that couldn’t be ignored. “No,” he growled, more at himself than at the men with him. “No weapons, guys. None. Not if my boys, hell, not if any kids are up there in that—”
He wasn’t finished speaking when the six brave men with him holstered their weapons. Nothing had ever sounded as good as that metal sliding into leather or mesh pockets. It took a buttload of stress off his shoulders.
“Your call, Grissom,” Shane whispered. “You lead.”
“Second level?” he asked, his heart pounding at the possibility that finding Tanner and Luke could happen this easy. This soon. He hadn’t been in country an hour yet.
“Yes,” Beckam declared quietly. “You ready?”
Pushing a nervous breath through his chapped lips, Grissom swallowed hard and said, “Yeah. We go in soft. I’ll knock and call out to my boys. If they’re in there, they’ll come running.” Just like they used to do every night when he got home. God, could it really be this easy?
No one argued for a surprise attack or offered another method of B&E. Where Grissom led, they followed. Yet the moment he wrapped his fingers around the dirty metal doorknob on that second-story room, he faltered. He trusted these men with his life. He would trust them with Tanner’s and Luke’s lives, too. Right?
But shit still happens…
How well he knew… “Weapons up,” he whispered at the still-closed door. “Just in case.”
Again, the quiet sound of metal whispered against mesh and leather. All but his. He’d never lift a weapon against a child again.
Instead of barging in like he would’ve in Afghanistan or Syria, Grissom released the doorknob and knocked softly. He didn’t want to frighten his sons. He called out a firm, “Tanner and Luke, are you in here? Can you hear me? It’s me, Dad.”Please open the door, Whoever-you-are who’s got my boys. Don’t make me have to bust it down.
The door sprang open inward, and the prettiest bombshell stood there, blinking her big, beautiful, absinthe-green eyes. Long, brown hair, parted down the center, cascaded over her shoulders in messy tangles. She looked exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept, bathed, or brushed her hair in days.
Murphy shouldered past Grissom and stepped inside the motel room. “Tuesday?”
Tears filled her eyes as she opened her mouth to answer but—
“Daddy!” three-year-old Luke screamed from behind the partially closed bathroom door. “I here! Daddy, I here! Don’t leave! I coming!”
Grissom dropped to his knees as both of his boys plowed into his arms, damned near knocking him on his butt in the open doorway.
Tanner burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Dad, but I” —he hung his head, choking on shame no boy should have to feel— “I peed my pants. I’m sorry!”
Luke cried and Grissom couldn’t hold back the emotions drenching his cheeks and running into his beard. “Oh, my sons. My boys,” he cried, his voice raw and hoarse. “I think I might just do the same thing, Tanner. It’s okay. I don’t care if you had an accident, and I’m not mad. I… I…” He couldn’t begin to verbalize the emotional storm in his heart. All he could do was hold the most precious things in his life. His sons. The baby boys he hadn’t been sure he’d ever see again. They were here. Shane and Beckam were right.
Grissom broke down and sobbed, unashamed to let his love show or to let his boys know how much they meant to him. Men cried, damn it. His boys needed to understand that showing love was not a weakness, and he loved these boys more than life.
While he held his crying boys in his arms, the guys chatted with the woman who had them. She was probably tight with Pam, damn her. Grissom struggled to listen to what she was telling Murph, but right then, he had what he’d come to Costa Rica for. That woman could go to hell, for all he cared. He just wanted to take his sons and go home.
Chapter Four
“That’s the thing, Mr. Finnegan,” Tuesday explained. “That woman literally threw her boys at me. I’ve never seen anything like her. She was rude and kept slapping that little guy’s head. And the names she called him were awful. I couldn’t say no, I just couldn’t. Is this man really their father?”
Before Murphy could answer, Grissom lifted his bleary eyes and growled, “Damn straight, lady. I’m their biological father, not some joker with a hard—”
“He’s my Daddy!” Luke bawled, his teary face buried in Grissom’s chest. “And I wanna go home.”
“Shush, little guy. She’s just making sure I’m your dad.” Grissom kissed Luke’s sweaty forehead, then the top of Tanner’s head. He had yet to loosen his grip on them, not the way both clung to him. Both traumatized. Both so damned upset, it was killing Murphy seeing them like this. Thank heavens for family reunions. Watching Grissom’s relief made everything Murphy’d gone through to get him here worth it.
“What’s that woman’s name anyway?” Tuesday asked.
“Pamela McCoy,” Murphy replied. “Sorry to barge in like we did, but those guys standing over there are TEAM Agents Hayes and Garner. Agents Armstrong, Shepherd, and Judge are at the window.”
