Page 42 of Defended By the SEAL
Preferably one that wasn’t wired to explode.
That thought brought her back to reality with an anxiety-filled jolt to her abdomen. The lighthouse loomed ahead, its dark, weathered exterior barely visible through the storm. Charlotte’s stomach twisted as they approached, her flashlight beam bouncing over the jagged rocks and snow-covered ground. They reached the entrance, the heavy wooden door still ajar from their earlier exploration. The cold air seemed to cling to the stone walls as they stepped inside, their footsteps echoing on the frosty floor.
“Let’s move,” Champion said, motioning toward the hidden door to the tunnels.
Austin moved ahead, his movements fluid and efficient as he checked their surroundings. The eerie silence of the lighthouse seemed louder now, broken only by the muffled roar of the storm outside. Charlotte’s grip on her flashlight tightened as they reached the secret passage.
They descended cautiously into the tunnels, the tension mounting with every step. The smell of chemicals was faint but unmistakable, mingling with the damp earth and stone. The narrow passage stretched ahead, lit only by their flashlights. Shadows danced on the walls, creating the illusion of movement that made Charlotte jumpy as all hell.
Tom gestured toward a branching tunnel. “That way leads to the old cache point. If he’s been moving more supplies, that’s where they’ll be.”
Champion nodded. “Stay close. If anyone sees or hears anything, call it out immediately.”
They moved as one, their flashlights sweeping the tunnel walls. The path widened as they neared the cache point, the air thick with the acrid stench of a new, distinctchemical. Charlotte’s heart raced as her beam caught on stacks of crates and barrels, the markings on them stark and clear.
“Definite bomb components,” Austin muttered, his voice low.
Tom’s eyes fixed on the supplies. “I’m no chemist, but this looks like enough to level half of Maine.”
Charlotte swallowed hard, her mind racing. “If he’s stockpiling this much, he’s not just planning to blow up the lighthouse. He’s aiming for maximum destruction.”
Before anyone could respond, a faint noise echoed through the tunnel—a shuffling sound, followed by a muffled voice. Champion held up a hand, signaling them to stop. They stood frozen, every muscle tense as the sound grew louder.
“Over there,” Austin whispered, pointing to a smaller passage branching off from the main tunnel.
23
Cowboy stirred, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he cracked open his eyes. The soft glow of the fire cast flickering shadows across the room, and his head throbbed like someone had used it for batting practice. His body felt like a single, massive bruise, every breath sending sharp reminders of the beating he’d taken.
He wasn’t even sure who’d hurt him. That was what happened when they got a good shot to the head before they roughed up your body. Confusion on a massive scale, and a memory like a hunk of Swiss cheese.
“Cowboy?” Grams’s voice cut through the haze, gentle but insistent. She sat nearby. In her lap, nestled casually like it belonged there, was a sleek black pistol.
Cowboy blinked, attempting to focus his vision on the firearm but unable to do so. “Grams?” His voice came out rough, his throat dry. “You, uh… planning on going to war?”
Grams glanced down at the weapon and raised a brow. “I’m an O’Malley, Leo. The family fortune wasn’t built on knitting needles, it was built onSignet Firearms. I wasn’t expecting trouble before, but now that I am, I’m prepared to defend myself.”
Cowboy let out a short, wheezing laugh that quickly turned into a wince. “Fair enough.” He tried to sit up, but the pounding in his skull made him reconsider. “Where’s Charlotte?”
Grams’s face softened, but there was a glint of steel in her eyes. “She went to the lighthouse tunnels with Champion, Austin, and Tom.”
Cowboy froze mid-movement, his jaw tightening. He may not remember exactly who got the jump on him, but he remembered enough. “She did what?”
“I’m afraid you missed quite a bit while you were sleeping.” She filled him in on Sarkisyan pretending to be Tom, as well as the chemicals they’d found in the lighthouse.
He ran his hand through his hair and began to pace, the motion doing nothing for his concussion but possibly keeping him sane. “I can’t believe she went out there without me.”
Grams adjusted the blanket draped over him, as if she could soothe the storm brewing in his chest. “Leo, she insisted. She’s worried about you, and about the refugees. She figured out what Sarkisyan’s planning. Bombs, tunnels, the whole lot. She wasn’t about to sit here twiddling her thumbs while you were lying here unconscious.”
Cowboy swore under his breath and bent to grab his shoes. “I’m going.” He attempted to straighten back to his full height, but the room banked ninety degrees and he landed firmly on his ass, back on the sofa.
Grams shook her head. “You’re not in any shape to?—”
“I’ve been in worse.” Cowboy gritted his teeth as he stood, the room spinning for a moment before his balance steadied. His ribs protested, his muscles screamed, but noneof it mattered. “She’s out there, and Sarkisyan’s still breathing. That’s all I need to know.”
Grams watched him for a moment, then nodded. “There’s one more thing. Austin and Champion arrived safely, but no one’s heard from Deke and, uh, Booger.”
“You’re shitting me.”
