Page 3 of A Hero Comes Home

“Oh, yeah!”

Just then, the cell phone in her pocket buzzed. She took it out and glanced at the screen. “Speak of the devil,” she said, and read the text message.

Where R U?

Diner. U back already?

Already??!!##

Sally laughed. Eight hours with three energetic boys—on a boat, no less—would tire even the most patient adult. But one not used to kids . . . well, Kevin must be ready for a nap by now.

Before she had a chance to remark on that, Kevin wrote again.

U R needed at home asap.

Her heart skipped a beat. Emergency?

No. Visitors.

Who?

Just come.

On that ominous note, Sally said quick goodbyes to Lilah and the others, and hurried to her cottage, which was several blocks away in the row built more than a hundred years ago for the Bell Forge workers. Her home was across the street from the one where Jake had grown up with his mother and father. His father, Joseph Dawson, a commercial fisherman, still lived there by himself since his wife, Margaret, Jake’s mother, died last year of a heart attack. Joe was a godsend of help when Sally had to work, as his wife had been before her death.

Sally was a half block away when she saw Kevin walking toward her. How nice, that he was coming to meet her! Away from the chaos of her house where her three boys would be vying for attention. They must be across the street with their PopPop. So, Kevin coming to meet her represented a rare, private moment.

Nice.

Kevin was wearing the same running shorts and raggedy Navy T-shirt he’d had on this morning with sockless athletic shoes. Tall, compared to her five-five, but no more than six feet, probably an inch or two less. And muscular, as all SEALs or ex-SEALs were. All Special Forces guys, for that matter, as she well knew, having lived in a house cluttered with the old-fashioned weights and barbells that Jake had favored. His black hair was short, but not as military short as when he’d first arrived in town. With dark Italian coloring enhanced by weeks of sun out on the ocean-salvaging expedition, he was one good-looking man.

Maybe it was time to move to the next level.

Maybe it was time to check out his bed at the Heartbreak Motel, where he lived, temporarily.

Maybe making love with Kevin would be the best birthday present she could give herself. She would turn twenty-eight next week, after all, and she hadn’t engaged in sex in almost four years.

As they got closer to each other, she smiled at him. An enticing smile, accompanied by a quick flick of her tongue to wet her lips, which she hoped conveyed her invitation.

He didn’t smile back. And there was no doubt he’d understood the message in her smile.

She faltered and came to a complete stop.

He came right up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. The expression on his face was stone-cold serious.

“Oh, my God! Did something happen to one of the boys?”

He shook his head.

“Joe?”

Another shake of the head.

He stepped to the side, deliberately. They were a short distance from her cottage by now, and she could see what his large body had been hiding from her view.

A black sedan with a white license plate and blue lettering, clearly marked “US Government,” sat on the street. There were small American flags on either of the front fenders. Standing beside the vehicle was an older, gray-haired man in full military uniform, the four stars on his epaulets denoting him a general. Beside him stood a distinguished-looking, fortyish black man in a tan suit who she could swear was Senator Bolton Smith, North Carolina’s newest bright star on the political horizon.

Sally’s knees went weak and she might have fallen if not for Kevin’s firm hold around her waist. This was shades of the death notification visit she’d gotten from the Army three years ago, but then it had been a lower-level Delta Force officer and a military chaplain.