Page 3 of Reclaiming Izabel

“I’m not abandoning my wife!” I gritted through my teeth.

“It’s possible to return to her.” Viktor paused. “We have no idea how long this mission can take. It could be a year; it could be five. Any inkling you’re alive endangers her. Best if she moves on.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

Viktor blew out a breath and the way the man regarded me gave me chills.

“She’s pregnant.”

I didn’t even question how Viktor knew. Joy burst in my heart, but, just as quickly, it shattered into unbearable pain even worse than my broken body.

“You return to her as is, both of you would be on the run, wondering if each day would be your last. Is that the life you want for her and your unborn child?”

“As opposed to making her a widow?” My voice was guttural with the sense of overwhelming loss, but a decision had solidified in my gut. My throat scraped like I’d swallowed a boxful of tacks. “I need people I can trust to watch over her.”

“My agents?—”

“My people, Viktor,” I growled.

“One person,” Viktor relented.

“No.”

“Only one person outside our task force can know you’re alive,” he stated unequivocally. “I’d have to vet him. If he doesn’t pass, there’s no compromise. If you refuse to become a ghost, I’m turning you over to Joint Special Operations Command.”

His warning wasn’t lost on me. The moment I stepped out of the secretive world of Viktor Baran, I’d be exposed, and Izabel could be dead before I reached her.

“Hank,” I muttered, and then more loudly, “Hank Bristow.”

Izabel

I had been cryingfor two days after reports of a special ops team massacre hit the SEAL community. And if that news wasn’t terrible enough, Jessica—the wife of Drake’s CO—had been killed in a car accident together with her young boys. Rumors were rampant that SEAL families were in danger, but they had been squelched by the Navy’s communications director. I’d come home this morning after sitting vigil all night at one of the wives’ homes where we’d prayed and waited for more information.

I had just walked into the house when I received a text from one of the SEAL wives.

Turn on the TV. XNN.

Switching on the TV, I flipped to the cable news channel.

“Again, details are still sketchy,” the news anchor said. “But a reliable source within the DoD has confirmed that the casualties are indeed from JSOC.”

SEAL Team 6 was a part of JSOC and Drake was the sniper of Fire Team—its most secretive unit.

I hadn’t talked to him since our last video call a week ago. Our conversation had been stilted because Drake couldn’t talk about his mission. He’d slipped into warrior mode, and not the loving husband he was with me when he was stateside. It was the wrong time to tell him I was pregnant.

I glared at the TV, grabbed the remote, and turned it off. If anyone could survive the odds, it was Drake.

I had faith in him.

He was going to walk through that door at any moment.

I entered our bedroom and picked up the pregnancy test. This week had been a rollercoaster. On Tuesday, I’d come home from my doctor deliriously happy that I was six-weeks pregnant and, twenty-four hours after that, I’d come crashing down into every military wife’s nightmare.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Seven in the morning. I’d just been promoted to senior architect at Stockman and Bose Builders, but I’d have to call in and take another personal day.

I rested a hand on my flat stomach, drawing strength from the life growing inside me. “Your dad is going to be fine. He’s a superhero.” The stress was driving me insane and it couldn’t be good for my pregnancy. My mind desperately sought that time months ago when Drake brought up plans to start a family.

I was sittingbeside Drake on the couch, laptop in front of me and absorbed in the modifications to a crucial project. My husband was watching football, but I could feel his gaze on me. In the beginning of our relationship, his frank appraisals made me self-conscious. I would blush to the roots of my hair. Now, it warmed my heart, thinking just how crazy Drake was about me. It scared me sometimes how much I loved him, but I always felt secure that he would always be careful with my heart.

---