Point Blank Seal

“Jen, it’s me. Miguel.”

Miguel? It couldn’t be. How much wine had she drunk in there? She cleared her throat and said the only thing that made sense. “You’re dead.”

Chapter Two (#u46a7807e-34b5-5688-a14a-acd85a67ef0e)

Miguel eyed the bat still clutched in Jennifer’s hand. He didn’t come this far to have it all end on her patio with a crushed skull, although he wouldn’t blame her for taking a swing at him.

He spread his arms, palms up, and stated the obvious, “I’m not dead.”

She dropped the bat. It bounced once before toppling over. Then she breathed his name. “Miguel.”

In those two syllables, she expressed all the hope, longing and love that had kept him alive for a year and half in captivity.

She reached out her arms and seemed to sway toward him, her feet apparently rooted to the cement beneath them.

He closed the space between them and swept her into his arms, holding her body so close he couldn’t tell where his ended and hers began. He pressed his lips against her soft hair, the blond strands almost glowing in the dark as if they had collected all of the moonlight.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back, her cheeks wet. “My every prayer has been answered, but how...? Why did they tell me you were dead?”

The navy and the CIA had their reasons, but he didn’t need to tell her those reasons—right now.

“The navy thought I was dead. Everyone on that mission died.”

She jerked in his arms. “Where have you been all this time?”

“I’ve been...I’ve been a prisoner of war.” Was that a nice enough way to put it?

Gasping, she took his face in her hands. “Are you all right?”

“I am now.” He kissed her lips and felt as if he were living a familiar dream, one that had kept him alive...and sane.

She returned his kiss like a woman starving. He broke away first as the passion rose, and she grabbed his hands.

“Come inside. You have to see Mikey. Miguel, we have a son.”

He cupped her face with one hand, and smoothed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “I know and I can’t wait to see him, but I have to tread carefully.”

“What are you talking about?” She tilted her head farther into his hand.

He touched his lips to her soft earlobe. “You had a break-in recently, didn’t you?”

She drew back from him, her eyes wide. “How do you know that? How long have you been here, in Austin?”

“I’ll tell you everything later, Jen.” He jerked his thumb toward the small house where his son was sleeping. “There’s something I need to do in the house first.”

“What? Is Mikey in danger?”

“No.” The lie felt right on his lips—for now. “Before we talk inside, I need to sweep the place for bugs.”

If he discovered a hidden camera, that would be a different matter completely. He’d have to leave immediately.

“Why would someone want to bug my house?” She grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tugged.

“To get to me.”

“I don’t understand any of this, Miguel. I don’t even know if you’re really here.”

“Oh, I’m here all right.” He pressed another kiss against her lips to prove it.

“D-do I need to wait outside?”

“No, but when we’re inside don’t talk to me. Pretend you’re alone.”

“I can do that. I’m good at that.”

He pinched her chin. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay, let’s do this. I’m getting cold.” She rubbed her arms.

He stopped to pick up the bat and held it up. “Glad you still have my Louisville Slugger for protection.”

“You almost got a hit upside the head for sneaking around out here.” Pressing her fingers to her lips, she led him into the house and slid the door closed behind her.

Miguel’s eye twitched as he watched Jennifer pluck up the wineglass from the coffee table and carry it into the kitchen. She’d vowed never to drink like her mother, but he guessed a dead fiancé and raising a child on your own could change plans.

He pulled the electronic bug detector from the front pocket of his jeans and began scanning the living room. He’d gotten lucky with the size of this house.

It shouldn’t take him long to get through the house...and into the bedroom to see his son.

Jennifer rinsed her glass in the sink and turned toward him.

He put his finger to his lips and flicked the switch on his bug detector. He had it set to the display option. If there were any listening devices planted in Jennifer’s house, he wouldn’t want the sound of his bug sweeper to transmit to the people on the other end of the device.

Facing the wall, he waved the tracker from corner to corner, sweeping across the bookshelf. The listening device would most likely be in this area, across from the TV.

Miguel’s pulse jumped along with the squiggly red line on his tracker. He followed its lead and was rewarded with the gleam of a tiny mic wedged between two books.

He became aware of Jen hovering over his shoulder, and he jerked back. He pointed at the TV and then cupped his ear.

She dipped next to the coffee table and picked up the remote control. Aiming at the TV, she clicked, and the sound of a commercial jingle filled the small room.

Perfect. He plucked the listening device from its hiding place, and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.

They’d hear a bunch of static on the other end and not much more. With the mic still squeezed between his two fingers, he mimed drinking a glass of water.

He didn’t remember Jennifer being very good at charades but she was catching on quickly to this game.

She scurried in the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the tap. When she put it down on the kitchen table, he dropped the device in the water.