Crazed (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 3) (6 page)

M
y skin broke
into chill bumps, and my stomach lurched. I’d drugged Mitch, but it was me who felt high.

Mitch was still fucked up, so I helped him to my bed so he could sleep it off. I’d been so fucking sure I was right, but his story made sense. I didn’t remember who raped me—I remembered pain, blood between my legs, tightness around my throat, and a man on top of me. The man I’d scarred was Mitch, but his story could easily be true.

I’d just lied to him again, though. I told him I believed him, and I did about raping me. But he wasn’t off the hook yet for Tiffany’s murder. And I still needed to figure out who the fuck was this Rafael guy he was texting. Mitch didn’t have a clue I was tracking his phone.

I covered Mitch with a blanket and watched him drift off to sleep. Maybe Mitch was right—maybe I should just forget about Grant. Grant deserved to be with a better woman. Mitch and I were so incredibly fucked up we almost made sense. We could move to Virginia Beach and try for one of the East Coast Teams. I could start over and create a new life.

But I could never leave Joaquín. And despite how hard I tried to get over Grant, as long as he was alive, he would own my heart.

I
checked my phone again
, waiting for the results of the DNA test. But when I entered my case number, the screen flashed “pending.”

Joaquín had mentioned the name Julián, claiming he was another man in Mia’s life. Complete bullshit. I would’ve known if she’d had a serious boyfriend.

So what did Joaquín know? He clearly knew about the boy, and wanted both of us to find out. But why? Was Julián Joaquín’s child, hidden away by Tiffany, and he found out and murdered her? Or was Julián my child, Mia and her brother keeping him from me for some fucking reason? Until I received the DNA results, I could do nothing but drive myself crazy speculating.

But I could never forgive Mia.

I needed to accept she was no longer the innocent woman I’d loved. I had no doubt Mia was capable of hiding aspects of her life from me; she clearly was unstable and had hidden a pregnancy and a baby from me.

I had a plan. I had to fucking figure out if Julián was mine, and if not, what had happened to Mia’s baby. I had to seduce Mia. I called to ask her out, and she eagerly accepted.

I was pulling out all the stops. Buying roses, dressing up. . . fuck, I even shaved.

I picked her up after her shift at the Pickled Frog. Kyle made some comment alluding to the fact he thought I’d broken up with Ksenya. I laughed, that girl couldn’t wait to tell the world we were through. She’d probably already moved on to one of my friends, most likely Mitch. He hadn’t partied with the rest of the guys last night, and Mia had also not bothered me. It didn’t matter—my emotions toward her were turned off. She was nothing more than a mission to me now.

As angry as I was, seeing her at the Pickled Frog still made my heart race. She’d changed out of her work clothes and wore a tight red wrap dress that hugged her curves. Fuck, I didn’t care anymore about my feelings. I’d been acting like a bitch. Tonight, I would fuck her to gain her trust. Nothing would stop me.

“You look beautiful, Ksenya.”

She blushed and I was shocked to see how easy it was for her to fake her emotions. She didn’t love me. She used me. Fine, I’d use her too.

First stop, dinner. I chose a romantic Italian restaurant in Coronado, just a few blocks from the BUD/S compound. Her eyes widened as we walked up the steps. She clutched my arm, and I winked at her.

The hostess sat us at a table overlooking the ocean. Mia bit her lip and nervously sipped her water.

“Ksenya, I need to apologize. I’m sorry about kicking you out of my place that night that we hooked up. It had nothing to do with you,” I lied. It had everything to do with her, her scar, her deceit. Enough, focus. “I was fucking mad after seeing you with Mitch, and I didn’t want to fuck you when I was filled with rage.”

She let out a sigh, surely buying my crappy excuse. “It is okay. I am sorry too, about Mitch. I do not like him the way I like you. But I have confession to give to you.”

She continued to speak with her thick accent. I doubted she would break out as full-on Mia right now. “Shoot.”

The waiter picked this moment to tell us the specials. I ordered the osso bucco, and Mia ordered pesto fettuccine sans meat.

Once we were alone again, Mia started her story. “After you made me quit Panthers, I got scared about the money. At party with your friends, I asked to Mitch about job, and he told to me about club. That is only reason I talked to him.”

Lying again. She probably suspected Mitch of having something to do with Tiffany’s murder. Not a crazy assumption, but she didn’t know Mitch like I knew him. He was a classic hard-partying Team guy—loved hard liquor, harder drugs, and loose women. After BUD/S and two long deployments with the asshole, I knew for a fact he was actually compassionate. He cared about people, his Teammates, even his ex-wife and their dog. He had many vices, but he was not a murderer. “Go on.”

She twirled her hair. “That night you kick me out, I went again to Diamond. I was afraid you did not want me no more. Mitch, he try to get me in the bed, but I told it to him, no. And I cook for him dinner last night, but I told him that I am not interested in being together with him. You must believe me, I am sorry.”

The hair stood on my arms. Mitch, the fucking jackass. But I couldn’t be too mad at him. He didn’t know Ksenya was Mia, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. As fucked up as it was, our Team guy code didn’t apply to strippers.

“I believe you. Let’s not talk about it. But you can’t work at Diamond. Call me an asshole, but I don’t want other men seeing your body.” At this point, she and Mitch could star in a sex tape and I wouldn’t care—but I needed to keep her close to me until I could figure out what was going on with her kid.

She didn’t hesitate. “Deal.”

We spent the next hour enjoying the view, the wonderful food, and a bottle of wine. Her body posture mirrored mine. She lied and told me stories about growing up in the Ukraine, I told her stories about my buddies in Chicago.

There was a lull in the conversation, and I knew it was time. She had had enough alcohol, and I couldn’t be fake to her any longer. I needed answers.

I swirled the wine in my glass, took her hand across the table. “Ksenya, I need to ask you something. I noticed your scar—I’m a corpsman, a medic. Are you a mother?”

She bit her lip and said nothing.

I wasn’t going to give up that easily. “You can trust me, baby.”

The color drained from her face and she gulped. “I had baby boy, two years ago,” she said. Her voice was weak and soft, and even her accent seemed to vanish.

A boy. I was more certain than ever that Julián had to be our son though I didn’t have any proof yet, just circumstantial evidence. Despite her lies up until this point, her body language made me think she believed what she was saying.

“Where is he?”

She clutched her wineglass and downed it, her hand shaking. “He is sweet angel and I love him. But he is sick, so he die. And I die inside.”

Died? He was dead? How the fuck did he die?

My body heat rose, as if I was suffocating in this suit.

No, it couldn’t be. If her baby was dead, who the fuck was Julián? He had to be our kid. Or maybe he really was Joaquín’s.

Was she lying about the baby being dead, knowing she hid him somewhere? Or if Julián was our son, maybe Mia didn’t even know he was alive.

This nonstop uncertainty, lies and deception made me feel like I was living in a nightmare.

I wanted to reach across the table and shake Mia until she told me the truth, about everything. Inject her with a truth serum.

The knowledge that Mia had a baby, possibly my son, alone, and that baby was now gone, sent wrath seeping through my pores. I steadied my breath, as if I was holding it underwater during a mission. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

Mia looked me dead in my eyes, a stone-cold stare. Like the day she dumped me. Blank, no emotion, vacant.

“I go to party. My boyfriend, he was out of town. I love him very, very much. He is good to me, good man. I drink many drink, and I think it was no good. I go to lie down, and I do not remember what happen next. When I wake up, a man he is there, my clothes down on my feet. I attack the man but it is too late. My boyfriend, he come home, but I did not tell to him. I find out after I am with baby and because I do not know who is father, I am scared and I leave. Nine months after, I have baby.”

What in the fucking hell? My eye twitched and my ears pounded. I resisted the urge to grab a plate and hurl it through the bay window of the restaurant. Every word, every moment we had shared flashed before my eyes, like a fucking movie show.

Who’d fucking attacked her?

“Who attacked you? Did you file a report? Did you do a rape kit? Did you call the fucking police?”

“No, I am very scared. And I am ashamed that I drink so much. I only want the man to go away.”

So this motherfucker was still out there? And she’d never fucking told me?

Was her baby my son or the attacker’s? I’d slept with Mia when I’d come back from deployment, so it was possible, especially because we hadn’t used a condom. She’d been on the pill before we deployed so I never asked, but how the fuck did I know if she was still taking it while I was gone. Why hadn’t Mia ever told me? She had done nothing wrong; she was a victim. How could she not trust me enough to tell me the truth? Instead, she ghosted me—ran away like a fucking coward.

I would’ve done anything for her, anything. I would’ve taken care of her through her pregnancy, married her even if the kid wasn’t mine, supported her no matter what the decision. How could she not trust me with the truth?

I squeezed her hand tightly. “I’m sorry, baby. But I give you my word, as long as you’re with me, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you again.”

She shrugged her shoulders and stared out at the ocean. Tears welled in her eyes, and I didn’t think her story was another lie. This was real, she had finally told me the truth. And she believed our baby was dead.

“It does not matter. Nothing matters. I can never bring him back. I have no family. I have nothing.”

And like that, this sense of protectiveness trumped all the hatred I’d built up for her inside me. “You’re wrong, baby—you have me.”