Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Marlowe felt whatever the dogs felt. A chill. A ripple. A disturbance in the air. In time or space or… somewhere. Instinctively, she pulled Bradley under her chin. She wasn't blind. Maverick and Walker hadn't any children with them, only their two vulnerable, pregnant wives. Judy and Harley's boys were probably still in school or they'd be here. Grandpa Stewart sat oblivious in his wheelchair. He never responded to anything anyone did or said. Didn't seem to notice his grandchildren, either.

Given her previous calling, Marlowe had already noticed the massive picture windows in Kelsey's front room. The glass in those sturdy metal frames was thick and darkly tinted. Had to be bulletproof. A sniper wouldn't settle for simple glass when it came to protecting his family. Then there was the security control box at the front door. The massive gun safe behind that door. The tiny blinking lights along the baseboards. This place had been designed to withstand an attack. These people were her friends, but they hadn't come here just to meet Wonder Woman . No way. Marlowe wasn't that interesting.

Whisper and Smoke had also felt that indefinable tremor of danger in the air. She looked to the man beside her for confirmation of her sixth sense. Like the dogs, Harley had gone stock-still, his head cocked as if he'd heard something, too.

"You felt it, didn't you?" she asked. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

Instead of answering, he nodded at Kelsey. She nodded back. Everyone stopped talking and Marlowe knew. This whole come and meet WW was a lie, and she'd fallen for it. Harley lifted to his feet and said, "Ladies, it's time."

Kelsey was the first on her feet. "This way, everyone," she said, pointing in the direction of the playroom.

Libby grabbed Marlowe's walker and helped her to her feet.

"I'll take Bradley," Judy said, lifting him up and away from Marlowe.

"I'll bring Grandpa," Harley added.

By the time Marlowe made it down the hall in that darned walker, Kelsey stood at the door to the playroom, acting like a flight attendant on a plane, pointing at who should sit where. Nodding encouragingly. Smiling as if nothing was wrong. Basically, cool as a cucumber, as if she'd be bringing a snack cart and drinks around once everyone was seated.

Lexie was busy picking up toys from the floor, not flustered at all. The moment Marlowe settled into the corner of one of the several sofas in the playroom, Judy put Bradley on her lap. She lost track of who did what after that. She was too preoccupied with the warm weight of the little guy in her arms. An incredible sense of wonder crept over her. Bradley was small and perfect, a miniature adult in every way, down to his eyelashes, lips, and fingernails.

By the time she looked up again, the playroom door was closed and the men were gone. If that wasn't proof something big was going down, nothing was. Sucking in a deep breath, she asked, very calmly. There was no need to frighten Lexie. "What just happened, ladies?"

She couldn't help that her tone turned accusatory and a titch acerbic. That happened when people were lied to. This was not a coincidence. This whole excursion had been planned ahead, and the Stewart playroom was a safe room. Probably had steel-reinforced walls, ceiling, and floor like she suspected the entire house did. Designed for comfort, obviously, but Marlowe had no doubt this place was fireproof, atom bomb proof, and built to withstand hurricane-force winds. Possibly Armageddon, knowing Alex. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She'd been tricked.

"Stop," Kelsey ordered, her tone brooking nothing less than compliance. "I heard from Alex, and we're simply taking precautions, so stop that pissed-off attitude right now."

Not what Marlowe expected from Alex Stewart's meek, timid wife. "When? Why? What'd he say?" she asked as politely as she could, fighting to keep her shit together.

Kelsey pursed her lips, breathed in and out, then replied, "While you were hugging my son, Alex sent me a private call. He and his team ran into trouble. There's been an injury. He ordered us to take cover. That's all."

Marlowe grunted, not buying it.

"You know we all carry," China murmured. "Well, Marlowe, we're all wearing earpieces, too. Us wives don't have to wait for a government official to knock on our door and tell us when something goes wrong. Trust me, this isn't a drill. Alex wouldn't have contacted Kelsey if it were. He'll update us as soon as he can. We'll be okay."

"Trust you?" Marlowe asked, still keeping her cool. Acting, like Kelsey, Libby, Judy, Persia, and China. She glanced at Lexie, wondering if that smart little girl was in on the charade, too. Wouldn't put it past these women if she were. "Why should I trust any of you?"

Lexie shut the toy closet door with a snap that cracked like thunder in the suddenly silent room. Bradley sniffed in his sleep. Thankfully, Kelsey broke the icy silence. "Marlowe, enough. You can fight and argue all you want, but not in my house. Yes, we didn't tell you everything because we hoped we wouldn't have to. But no mission goes as planned, there is always a risk, and, sweetheart…"

The moment Kelsey paused for a breath, the second she said sweetheart, Marlowe's heart stopped. She'd never been on the receiving end of bad news. Was that what this sinking sensation was?

As if she read her mind, Kelsey sat beside Marlowe and put a hand on her arm, the arm holding Alex's son. If Alex wasn't hurt, who was? Mark? Marlowe glanced at Libby. Not Mark or Libby'd be upset. The only other agent Marlowe could recall being in that tense meeting with Alex was… Asher. She couldn't imagine him being hurt. Couldn't picture it in her mind. Didn't dare. Didn't want Kelsey to say another word.

"No," she whispered. Just no.

Kelsey's mouth moved but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and finally whispered, "Sweetheart, Asher was injured when they breached Jamah's hideout. They're flying him to Ramstein. There are excellent surgeons there and…"

Kelsey's lips kept moving but Marlowe was past hearing. Her brain couldn't connect. It was stuck in playback. Asher's been hurt... Ramstein… Excellent surgeons… Asher's been hurt... Ramstein… Excellent surgeons…

Asher's been hurt...

Asher's been hurt...

Asher's been hurt!

"H-How bad?"

"Alex didn't say."

"I mean, did he slip and fall?" Is he still alive? "Did he break his leg?" Or his neck? "Wh-What should I do?"

Marlowe found herself smothered by pregnant women, each of them holding her as close as they could and crying with her. There was no use resisting Libby, China, or Persia. They had a hold of her and the sensation of all those arms wrapped around her was good. Swallowing her usual need to push back, she let go. She needed this. She didn't want to be alone. With her whole soul, she accepted what these… these friends had done on her behalf and what they offered now, parts and pieces of themselves and lots of salty tears.

"I should've hugged him," she cried, the hollow in her soul aching for that one lost chance, "but I don't do hugs." Why don't I? What's wrong with me?

"You do now," Libby whispered tenderly. "Soak it up, girlfriend."

Marlowe managed a full breath before she leaned out of the tremendously warm huddle. Turning back to Kelsey and Judy, she asked, "Are you pregnant, too?"

Judy outright laughed but Kelsey replied, "Maybe. I never know."

Marlowe had no idea what that meant, but she didn't ask for clarification, and she didn't know why she'd asked. The pregnant wives finally released her and went back to the other sofa, while she peered down at the sleeping child in her arms. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on Bradley's forehead. He hadn't suffocated from all that affection, and neither had she. Inhaling a deep, shuddering breath, she told these women, "I want an earpiece."

Kelsey said, "I'll see what I can do to make that happen."

Marlowe nodded, her mind spinning. She was used to being on the other end of heartache, worrying about the women she'd saved, but never knowing if they'd made it safely to America. She hadn't heard back from any of them, had come to accept that, once they were gone, they were okay. They'd had to be. There'd been no other choice. It was the only way she'd been able to move on. She had to believe they were safe, and that somehow, she would've known if they weren't. She could've reached out to Alex for that information. She could've followed up. She should've texted. It would've been easy, but she hadn't. Not once. Why not?

Marlowe told herself it was better not asking or knowing. Simpler. Easier. Less chance of heartbreak. Besides, there'd always been another "Can you find her?" text. Another woman in danger. Another woman to save. Another mission. She'd grown accustomed to charging forward. Never looking backward. Always putting the past in the rearview as quickly as possible, to keep one step ahead of the Taliban. Scurrying for needed supplies. Staying under the radar. Sweating in one-hundred-degree summers. Freezing through wicked winters. But always, always charging hard, charging forward. Keeping on and on and on. There'd been no other choice. She'd been the only one there to help those women.

Marlowe looked down at the perfect boy in her lap. Alex's son. Asher was somebody's son, too. His parents loved him as much as Alex loved this boy. His dad called his mom honey. She looked at the women she'd misjudged. They loved their sons and daughters. Most mothers did.

"Umm," she murmured, not sure of her way forward, but as always, charging nonetheless. "What makes a mom stop loving her, umm, only daughter?"

She should've known they'd all come to her rescue because these women were good mothers. There were tears in their eyes, and Marlowe was sure it wasn't due to the overload of hormones in the room. Nope. True, their instincts were on hyperdrive and all that feminine energy was now aimed at her. Bowing her head to protect Bradley from being smooshed again, Marlowe let it happen again. The neglected little girl inside of her needed this hug. Craved it. Had been dying for years without it.

The moment she was back inside the TEAM wives' huddle, Marlowe's resolve shattered. There was no holding back. She cried for the lost little girl inside of her, and she cried for Asher. She should've hugged him better. Next time she saw him, she would. She surely would.