Chapter 4
Tate Madden
Iloved having our girls close, but I was relieved when Mom picked them up that evening. For the next three or four days, Kingsley and I could focus on each other and what was happening. He was off work till Monday too, so we decided to return to Mclean and stay there.
A lot of our friends seemed to have had the opposite idea. Maybe they needed a break from being out here. The sun had set, and the only people around had gathered for a barbecue on the patio. Except, no music was playing, and the atmosphere was anything but cheerful.
Greer, Archie, Colt, and Mr. West were here. Colt was standing by the grill.
“You came back.” Mr. West smiled a little, surprised. “Are you hungry?”
I shrugged. “Not really.” Although, the sides on the table looked good. Potato salad, regular salad, fresh bread, and condiments.
Lee cleared his throat. “I could eat. I haven’t been around Macklin today.”
Speaking of… “How did it go with him today? Did Walker crack him?”
Greer huffed a chuckle and accidentally knocked over their baby monitor. “I reckon he cracked himself—but maybe with a bit of assistance.” He nodded toward Macklin’s cabin. “They’re in there. Walker told the boy to stay put—or else—while he dropped off Savi.”
“To Macklin’s credit, he obeyed,” Mr. West said. “He hasn’t come out once.”
I hoped he’d had his meltdown.
It must’ve been hard on Walker too. Macklin and I were so similar in that we had dominant personalities, while we also identified as slaves.
But something like our friend being fucking kidnapped…
? Yeah, we snapped out of all kinds of kinky mind-sets.
For the most part anyway. Every rule had its exception.
A well-placed “pet” in the right tone of voice both centered me and made me heel, even in rough times. Kingsley wielded his Master sword expertly around me. He knew when to push and when to stand down, and clearly, so did Walker with Macklin.
We took our seats at the long picnic table, and Master Greer pulled two beers out of a cooler.
“Just water for me, thanks,” I said. “If there are any in there.”
He lifted a brow. “Why, you pregnant?”
I snorted. “I’m thirsty, Sir.”
He gave me an uh-huh look, then handed me a bottle of water instead.
“What’s on the grill?” Lee asked.
“Good ol’ Boston butt,” Colt replied.
Damn, that was one of Lee’s favorites.
“Fantastic.” He looked pleased. “Did everyone else go home?”
Mr. West gestured at their cabin. “Kit invited Cam, Noa, Jordan, and Gael for a movie night slash sleepover.”
Oh, that was good. Lee and I had crashed to comedies all week. I couldn’t stomach anything serious right now. Adam Sandler couldn’t quite make me laugh, but he did brighten my mood a bit.
Archie yawned and rested his head on Greer’s shoulder, to which he kissed the top of Archie’s head.
“You don’t have to stay up, sweetheart,” he murmured.
“If I fall asleep now, I’ll be up at four,” Archie mumbled. “Besides, I wanna spend every minute I can with you if you’re gonna go off and risk your life again.”
Excuse me?
“We’re missin’ somethin’ here,” Kingsley stated quietly.
Greer squinted at nothing, and Archie wasn’t talkative.
“Greer and his brother are on standby in case River and Reese need help,” Mr. West revealed.
Oh God. I was split in two just like that. Part of me was like, okay, yeah, Master Greer had been a kick-ass Marine with several deployments under his belt. Then the other side of me…just fucking great, another loved one to worry about.
“If you get hurt, I will become your worst nightmare, Sir,” I settled for saying.
Greer chuckled quietly and draped an arm around his hubby. “I’ve received enough threats from this one and the two we have at home.”
Good.
“How are Sloan and Corey doing, by the way?” Mr. West murmured.
Greer sighed. “I don’t know. It’s tough with Corey. He doesn’t process in a crisis. He does that afterward.”
“He’s extremely matter-of-fact. More than usual,” Archie added with traces of affection in his tone. “Master left his go-bag in the hallway at home, and Corey walked past it and called it the stupidest and ugliest bag he’d ever seen.”
Greer smiled faintly. “Then he kicked it.”
Aw.
Everyone was hurting, and everyone was showing it in different ways.
The worst part for me was feeling so damn helpless. There was literally nothing I could do.
“What about Sloan?” Kingsley wondered.
Archie blew out a breath and glanced at Greer. “You and I are not in agreement here.” He looked to Kingsley. “I think he’s focusing too hard on Corey and the kids. Like, I know his priorities are in order—the kids and Corey come first—but he has to process his own stuff too.”
Greer spoke next. “Unlike the rest of us, Sloan can actually deal with helplessness. He checks the news probably more than I do, but he’s like, ‘What can I do? Nothing. So I’m gonna trust River and Reese and hope Shay comes home soon.’”
A breath gusted out of me. I so wished I could do that.
Instead, even though I knew I couldn’t do anything either, I obsessed over it.
I let myself get angry and upset and frantic.
I even became envious of those who could make the slightest difference.
Like what Greer was doing, preparing to go off and fight.
He was also our main link with the Tenleys.
To prevent spamming the twins with our worries and whatever information we had, all communications went through Master Greer.
Possibly Colt too, I wasn’t sure. He was finding ways to be useful as well.
He’d told us that he and Ty were using their Air Force connections to map out private airfields along the border to Mexico.
Just in case Shay’s kidnappers smuggled him out of the country, it could be helpful to at least narrow down the escape routes.
See? Helpful, helpful, helpful.
And me? Helpless, helpless, helpless.
It was draining on every level.
I linked my arm with Lee and kissed his shoulder. “You’re kind of similar, Sir.”
He nodded slowly. “I suppose. The way I rationalize it—is it gonna help Shay if I take time off work and lose my mind? No. Will our bills stop showing up? Not that either, sadly.” He paused.
“That doesn’t mean I haven’t called some old Navy buddies on the West Coast, just to see if I could get some insight.
They know California, they have a better sense of the problems the Coast Guard face with drug interdiction, and they’ve heard cartel names and terms that don’t make it over here. ”
I nodded, remembering how he’d paced the living room. Phone in one hand, lukewarm coffee in the other, and Kaley clinging to his leg.
Mr. West perked up. “Did you learn anything?”
Lee shook his head. “Nothing that isn’t already being discussed on the damn morning shows. Shit about the Blanco Cartel—or Blanco Family, what the fuck ever. Who controls the coke routes in California, alleged leaders, and so on.”
I swallowed hard. I hated hearing stuff like that, because it blew things out of the water.
To bring in a cartel, of all things… It wasn’t just any kidnapping.
No ransoms had been sent, as far as we knew.
The police had no leads. People were turning up murdered in the streets.
Drug money was involved, and possibly an in-house war in a Colombian cartel.
It was terrifying. And Shay—and two other innocent people—were trapped in the middle.
As if on cue, another wave of helplessness crashed down on me.
Lucas Carter
It was another solemn dinner, but it was nice to be among friends. More than that, it was nice to get away from takeout and Macklin’s complicated creations.
We’d learned this week that Macklin went to extremes when he wasn’t feeling well.
Things had started out okay enough with interesting fusions and twists of classic dishes.
But shit had escalated quickly. Too quickly for my stomach—and I was a self-proclaimed foodie.
I also loved appetizers, and Macklin was usually so incredibly good at creating them.
But when I’d come face-to-face with what he’d said was “Octopus with ginger and fig jelly,” I’d almost reeled back.
That wasn’t the chef we knew and adored.
“This is amazing, love.” I leaned over and kissed Colt’s cheek.
Good meat with plenty of fat and flavor. Perfect.
He leaned in, wanting a proper kiss. “Call me the grill master.”
I chuckled quietly. “The best grill master, for sure.”
“Damn right.” He gave me a firm kiss. “You hear that, jarhead?”
Greer looked at him, chewing. “Shut the fuck up, airman.”
Colt smacked a kiss at him.
“Oh,” Archie exhaled and sat up straighter. He was looking at something behind me. “Lane—you’re here.”
I quickly glanced over my shoulder, and I let out a breath at the sight of Lane and Ty. It was the first time they’d ventured out here since the news had broken. From Macklin and Walker, we’d heard Lane couldn’t handle additional impressions when he was already overwhelmed.
Poor Lane. He was visibly exhausted and looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Judging by the size of the hoodie he was wearing, it belonged to Ty.
This had to be extra rough on them. They’d grown so close to the Tenleys. Hell, Shay and Lane were practically brothers.
“It’s so good to see you, Lane,” Tate expressed. “You too, Ty. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“We’re good, thanks.” Ty came off as fairly casual, but I could tell he had Lane on a short leash. He pressed a kiss to Lane’s temple before guiding him over here. “We’re not stayin’ long.” He stopped at another table and grabbed two lawn chairs to move them closer.
I noticed Ty had a takeout bag.
They sat down at the head of the table, and Kingsley placed a hand on top of Tate’s. Maybe a silent reminder to tread carefully.
Nobody said anything at first.
Lane didn’t appear to be present, and it was possible he was on anxiety medication.
Ty pulled out two takeout containers and two bottles of water.