Chapter Seventy-Four #2
“Correct. Almost there.” I gripped his shoulder.
“Now we have to figure out fuel stops, taking into consideration weather, flight plan, and the fact that there’re no services at Shelter Cove.
So refuels need to be planned for before and after we fly in.
” I glanced at my watch and double-checked my calculations for getting us to that airport today.
“I’ll handle the flight plan and check the weather conditions.
While I make a call, are you up for mapping out a few options for refueling if we fly a southern route? ”
My son didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir.”
I squeezed his shoulder. “Good.” He’d make an excellent pilot if he ever decided he wanted to learn. “Back in ten.”
“Okay.”
Striding into the bedroom, I dialed out on my cell as I started gearing up.
Cypher picked up on the second ring. “I see you found her.”
“I did. Linc and I are flying out in twenty. We’re taking the Phenom. Did you watch the footage of her?” I threw extra ammo, magazines, and firepower into a go bag.
“Watched it, ran it, already know what you’re going to ask,” Cypher replied. “Plates on the SUV in the footage match the vehicle, but they’re registered to a housewife in Southern California who’s currently driving her vehicle in Pasadena—with the same plates.”
Fuck. “You get a look at the driver?”
“Negative.”
“How the hell does someone drive cross-country without getting caught on any security cams or satellite imagery?” I packed some warmer-weather clothes for Lincoln and myself.
“The same way we would. Carefully.” Cypher typed. “You thinking it’s the brother?”
“Yes.” It had to be. “Did you get any more intel on him yet?”
“No.”
I grabbed cash out of the safe in the closet. “Did you ask November?”
Cypher gave an emphatic “Negative.”
“November said—”
“You want November, call November. We done here?”
“No, and I’m not contacting November. His currency is intel and crypto.
I’m not bartering either.” More importantly, I didn’t think November would withhold potentially dangerous intel.
If Isla’s brother was a credible threat past his proclamation, November would’ve disclosed it or at least given a warning.
Cypher snorted. “November’s currency is a woman he keeps locked up.”
I didn’t tell Cypher that no one was locked up at November’s hideaway over an hour south, nor had he ever imprisoned a female.
At least, not that I knew of. But after the past three days, considering the trip my son and I were about to take, I could understand the appeal of it, for safety if nothing else.
And Christ, I was losing it if that’s where my head was at.
Redirecting my own damn thoughts, I tasked Cypher. “I need the usual. Masked flight plans, digital footprint at refuels wiped, and keep us off radar while we’re in the air. Once we’re wheels up, I’ll text you the locations of fuel stops. Sitrep if you get any hits on Isla or anyone with her.”
“Copy that. You going out there without backup?”
“What are my options?” It was rhetorical. After the meet at the new headquarters, everyone except Helios had gone back out on assignment.
“Alpha’s man Blade is at his place in Montana, and he has wings. Might be a good time to remind him his brother works for you.”
Already tried that. I’d rather shoot myself in the ass than aim for a repeat. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
“No, you won’t. Handling flight plans now. Call when you’re in the air.” Cypher hung up.
Lincoln appeared in the doorway. “I think I got it.”
“All right. Let’s check it out.” I zipped up the go bag and followed him back to the office.
He stood over his seat and typed. “To save time getting there, I thought one fuel stop going, then two coming back. Here are the locations.”
I quickly calculated. “Excellent. That’ll work.” I gripped his shoulder. “Good job.”
“Um, thanks.” He glanced at the fleet spreadsheet. “So, are all those planes really yours?”
“They’re registered under Paragon Operations and a few shell corporations, but yes.”
Exhaling, shaking his head, he showed his age for a brief moment. “You must have a lot of money.”
“We have money,” I corrected, leaving the entirety of that conversation for another time. “More than enough for you to live life on your terms.” Him and his kids and grandkids—if he had any.
His face heated, his hand went to the back of his neck, and his head dipped. “Oh, um, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know, but I did.” I waited a beat.
He looked up.
“What’s mine is yours, but I have three rules.”
Immediately crossing his arms in self-protection, his expression shut down.
Never having seen the reaction from him before, I hypothesized. “Your mother didn’t give you rules?”
“No, sir.” His voice, quieter than usual, broke on the sir. “Not exactly.”
Not exactly. I silently repeated it another two times.
Didn’t help. Every analytical skill I had was bucking against the notion.
My life was rubrics, tantamount only to procedures.
Without them, I was dead. And his mother…
had none? “She didn’t enforce rules, or she didn’t have any?
” How the hell had she raised a child without establishing parameters?
Especially one who was so self-contained.
“That’s not….” Lincoln cleared his throat. “I can’t explain it.”
“Try.” From my perspective, my three parameters were simple. But if he’d never been given any, if I was going to meet him on his terms, mitigate the anxiety he had, I needed to know what I was dealing with.
“I guess she didn’t think we needed them?”
We? “At all?”
“Well….” His gaze hit the floor. Then he glanced up and blurted out the purity and entirety of his personality.
“Smile hard, forgive easy, and be bighearted.” He quickly looked away, but not before I saw his eyes well.
“That’s all Mom ever asked of me.” His voice rough, he swiped a hand over his face.
“Except for, like, keeping the secret about you. She said to never tell anyone, and I didn’t.
So, the rest of what she asked? I did—I mean, I do those things.
Or try to, because she never had rules. We just…
. We lived.” Both his breath and voice hitched.
“So, I guess she didn’t think we needed rules for that. ”
Of everything I’d calculated, strategized, and prepared for, I’d never planned for this.
Me. An interference to my own son’s life.
An adjustment, yes. Compromise, absolutely.
Catering to his needs, without doubt. I was committed to doing whatever it took to get us to a place of commonality and trust. But never once did I think my protocol-based world would be a hindrance to his core personality.
Fuck, was I ignorant.
“I think your mother was staggeringly astute. I also think she was without compare, and it shows in every aspect of her son.” This wasn’t about giving credit where credit was due. This was respect, acknowledgment. Lincoln was her son, through and through, and he was better for it.
He looked up, and I saw it exactly. Forgiveness. Openheartedness.
I would never be a substitute for what he’d lost. But I needed him to understand that it wouldn’t stop me from giving him my best. “Your mother protected you for fifteen years.” I gave him the acknowledgement. Then I gave him my respect. “I have the watch now.”
Seeing the grief in his eyes was punishing, but he didn’t falter under it. “Okay. What are the three rules?”
I couldn’t stop the thought or comparison to a key part of the SEAL Ethos—forged by adversity. That was my son.
Proud of him, I gripped his shoulder. “I don’t think you’re going to need these, but I need to say them. Understood?”
He tipped his chin, and it was like looking in the mirror.
“One, no drugs or alcohol. Both will ruin your life. You’re smarter than that. Copy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Two, never mistreat a woman. If you have to question what that means, you’ve already stepped too far. Understand?”
He was already nodding. “I know.”
“Good. Three.” I gripped his shoulder tighter. “Always remember everything your mother taught you.”
His eyes welled. His throat shifted.
I wanted to hug my son so damn bad, but I also recognized what I was seeing. A young man holding his own right now. That, I wouldn’t interfere with. So I gave him affirmation. “She raised you right, Lincoln. I’m proud of you.”
His head dropped, he swiped at his face, and his voice came with emotion. “Yes, sir.”
This conversation gutting me, knowing I didn’t deserve to be this kid’s father, but simultaneously grasping that it wasn’t an excuse for lack of parenting, I did what I’d done when I was a SEAL.
I got comfortable being uncomfortable. “Lastly—this isn’t a rule, but I’m reiterating what I said in Virginia.
You can come to me with anything. No judgment.
Open door. Always. I’ve got your six. Copy? ”
“Yes, sir.”
Ignoring the sir, I pulled my son in for a quick hug, then released him. “Ready to go find Isla?”
Exhaling, giving me his signature nod, relief washed over his face. “Yeah.”
“Then we’re Oscar Mike.”