A Promise Never Forgotten Read online

  Micah took her in his big strong arms. “Anything you need, just call.” He glanced over to Matthew before returning his attention to Elizabeth. “Congratulations. I already have a good feeling about this guy.”

  Matt caught the little twitch at the corners of her mouth. Yeah. Maybe, on some cellular level, Micah remembered his friendship with Mason Sinclair. Their whole team had become very tight, extremely quickly.

  “Hey, my turn.” Logan reached for Lizzie as soon as Micah released her. “Same goes for me. Anything you need. Anytime. I’m just a phone call away. And as for the big guy over there, I think you got yourself a good one, this time.” When he released her, he followed her over to Matt and offered his hand. “Thank you for saving Elizabeth. She’is very special to us. Take care of her.”

  “Always,” Matt confirmed as he took her hand and left the suite. The day he could tell them all the truth couldn’t come soon enough. He missed their friendship. But there was so much yet to be uncovered before that could happen.

  Chapter One

  Marine Lieutenant Colonel Logan Jackson sat in the front row of St. Paul’s Catholic Church and stared at the unsmiling picture of Gabriel Davis. Official photographs usually sucked, but this one was extremely unsettling.

  Or perhaps it was the brightly gleaming silver urn that sat next to the large framed photograph.

  Maybe Logan was just irritated that he had considered this man his friend for the past ten years. Obviously, he hadn’t known him at all if the top-secret report he and Micah received from their boss at USSOCOM could be believed.

  Gazing at Gabe’s likeness, Logan wanted to reach into the past and rip the prominently displayed flag off the lapel of the dark charcoal suit he’d worn for the photographer. Good men had died for that flag and everything it meant. Just yesterday, two of his men had to be flown out of northern Africa. One was fighting for his life and the other would have to learn a new normal without his left arm.

  Logan tuned out the priest as he droned through the funeral mass.

  The overwhelming smell of lilies saturated the air and turned his stomach. He fucking hated funerals. In his twenty-two-year career as a Marine, he had buried far too many good men.

  Gabriel Davis would not be counted among them. He was a deceitful liar according to the report.

  He may have been born in Chicago and raised Catholic, but during college Gabe had denounced the United States of America to follow the teachings of Nassar al Jamil. The half-crazy extremist had been building an army for nearly twenty years, claiming to have been chosen by Allah to establish the New Islamic State. He seemed to have stayed off the Top Ten Most Wanted List of international terrorists. Maybe now they knew why.

  Gabriel Davis was a traitor.

  Yet, that fact had been hidden by the Central Intelligence Agency where Gabe had been running covert ops all over the world. Had he used his position to protect al-Jamil? Who else within the CIA knew about his relationship with the terrorist?

  Both Logan and Micah had hoped the new information they received just before they left for the funeral would answer the many questions they had about their former friend. Instead, it had them asking more. Nothing was making sense. Especially the talk of gold. His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps in the aisle.

  Deputy Director of Operations Hennel stood next to the picture less than ten feet away and hailed Gabe as a hero. Well, according to the official report approved by Hennel, Gabe had died in the line of duty from a terrorist’s bullet.

  It was all bullshit.

  Maybe that’s why Logan was so pissed off. He knew the truth. Or thought he did. He had spin-doctored enough after-action reports to read between the lines. Gabe may, or may not, have been working as a double agent. He may, or may not, have been recruited by the CIA while in college to spy on Nassar al-Jamil’s organization.

  What Logan did know, for sure, was that Matthew Saint Clare had shot Gabe a millisecond before he fired on Elizabeth Kamp, one of Logan’s best female friends, and a former teammate. But there had been a second shooter. Maybe the so-called terrorist was behind the sniper scope. All three of those bullets were swept under the rug of operational security.

  Elizabeth and Matthew thought everything pointed back to that failed Syrian mission ten years ago. It had been a clusterfuck. Losing their friend, Mason Sinclair, that night had been hard to take. Elizabeth had totally lost her shit when the building had exploded early, with Mason still inside. When Austin was born nine months later, everyone understood her reaction to his death.

  Matthew Saint Clare popped into Logan’s head. He seemed like a good man. He and Elizabeth had clicked almost instantly. For a brief second, Logan wondered what that would be like, to meet someone and immediately know that they were meant for you. He shrugged off the notion. It had never been that way with any of his relationships.

  The newlyweds were sitting two rows behind Gabe’s first wife, Janey, and their eighteen-year-old son, Bradley. Marsha’s parents had chosen the opposite end of that row. Her father, a retired CEO, checked his watch every five minutes and looked inpatient with the mass.

  Logan glanced to the other end of the family seating at Teagan Williams, who had been on their five-person covert team. The joint task force idea had been to test the integration of men and women from different military services under extremely stressful circumstances. Unfortunately, their Syrian mission hadn’t turned out as expected. As a team, they had trained and worked well together. Although they had achieved the mission of destroying the ammunitions dump, they had lost a team member.

  Logan examined the small-framed former Seahawk pilot who seemed almost fragile holding the small child. He would kill anyone who tried to hurt her. He chuckled inwardly. Knowing Teagan, she would have the perpetrator dead on the ground at her feet before he even had his weapon pulled. She was one hell of a woman. He was proud to call her his friend.

  Teagan held Gabe’s four-year-old daughter in her lap. Anora rested her small head on her godmother’s shoulder, the child’s soft blonde curls blending perfectly with hers. Not really a surprise. Teagan had told him that during flight school, she and Marsha had often been mistaken as sisters. As he glanced between the two women, Logan could easily see the similarities in their classic facial structure, long hair, and pretty blue eyes.

  Marsha Davis dabbed at those bright eyes as a nun held onto the last mournful notes of Amazing Grace. Logan was a little surprised that the former Navy pilot was displaying so much emotion given that she and Gabe had been in the process of a divorce, separated for eleven months. At least she could save some attorney fees now, Logan thought cynically.

  His own divorce had cost him thousands, but it was worth every dime to rid himself of Kember. She had gotten what she wanted in the end. And later, what she deserved.

  “All rise.” The priest’s words jerked Logan back to the present and away from the past he’d rather forget.

  A small soft hand slid into his. Without moving his head, Logan glanced at the growing boy to his side. As clearly as though it were yesterday, Logan remembered holding a tiny Brann in that very church seven years ago as a different priest baptized him. Logan and Teagan had made promises to God, Gabe, and Marsha to be there for Brann. Three years later, they had repeated the ceremony for his little sister, Anora. The sweet child now stood holding hands with both her mother and Teagan.

  As he looked up to Christ hanging on the cross, Logan vowed, once again, that he would be there for those children. Always.

  When his gaze dropped to Gabriel’s photograph, he worried how hard it would be to hide his true feelings for their father, the traitorous hero.

  “This concludes our ceremony. The interment of Gabriel Davis will take place at a later time with a private family ceremony.” The priest gestured toward the urn. “The family asks that you join them in the social meeting area for the bereavement meal.”

  A white gloved usher came to the end of the pew and indicated they should leave. With
Brann’s hand locked in his, Logan strode down the aisle, slowing when he realized the young boy took two steps to every one of his. In the lobby, they were met by the funeral director who pulled Marsha, the children, Teagan, and Logan into a private room off to the side.

  “Do you need a few minutes to surreptitiously gather yourselves before facing all of Gabriel’s friends and coworkers?” The man’s warm voice was soothing.

  “No.” Marsha assessed her two children. “No. I believe we’re fine. I’d like to get this over as soon as possible.”

  The man in the black suit and gray tie simply nodded. “I’ll do what I can to hurry this along.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Marsha took a hand from each child. “We’re ready.” When he opened the door, she slowly inhaled a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked to the church’s social area.

  Logan touched Teagan’s arm as she passed by him. “How’s she doing?”

  “Better than I expected.” His friend shrugged. “They’d been separated for nearly a year and he hadn’t been very active in their lives for the past two years. In reality, her life isn’t going to change very much. She’s concerned about the children. Brann is at that hero worship stage where he should be attached to his father, but he isn’t. Anora barely knows the man.” She corrected herself. “Knew the man.”

  It was clear what Logan needed to do. “I can take a few additional days leave and spend some time with Brann while I’m here. Maybe he can come down and hangout with me for a week or two at Camp Lejeune before school starts.” It might be kind of cool to share his world with the young boy.

  Sorrow sliced through Logan once again for the son, or daughter, he never had. Kember, that fucking bitch, had lied to him about trying to get pregnant after their decision to grow their family. Pregnancy is nearly impossible when you have an intrauterine device. Teagan’s voice jolted him back to the present.

  “For a kick ass Marine, you have such a soft heart.” She laid her palm over his heart and it kicked hard. No woman had touched him with such tenderness in years.

  “Not really. I’m just trying to help out, like a good godfather should.” He held her gaze. “Sorry, but I’m not comfortable taking on Anora.” He wasn’t sure he was happy being responsible for a seven-year-old round-the-clock. Logan reached up and gripped her shoulder. “I’ll leave her to her godmother.”

  “I’m more than happy to take on that child. I love that little girl. I love them both.” Teagan’s grin warmed his entire body. “Come on,” she insisted. “Let’s go help Marsha get through the next hour, then let’s get the hell out of here. After everything we’ve been through today, I’m in serious need of a drink.”

  “Right there with you.” Logan held open the door and walked beside her down the hall toward low, reverent voices and the tinkling of silverware on plates.

  Marsha’s parents were the first ones finished with their meal.

  “We hate to eat and run, but your dad wants to get to the RV rally as soon as possible so we get a good space in the park.” Her mother gently ran a hand over Marsha’s hair and rested it on her shoulder. “Call us if you need anything. We’ll get there as soon as we can.” She stepped between the two children and hugged them. “Maybe next time you can come and spend a few days with Meme and Pops in the coach.”

  At the grunt from Marsha’s father, Logan looked at the man’s scowl. When he realized people were looking at him, he forced a smile. “That would be fun, right kids?”

  “Sure.” Brann’s noncommittal tone spoke volumes.

  Anora threw both arms around her grandmother. “Could we? Really?”

  Marsha took over the awkward moment. “We’ll see, sweetie. You’ve never been camping and I’m not sure you would enjoy it. Maybe when Meme and Pops are camping closer to DC, we can go visit them and try out camping.”

  With wide eyes, the little girl excitedly turned her attention to her grandparents. “How soon are you going to camp near us?”

  “Not sure there, little darling.” Her grandfather’s smile was not for her as he threw his arm around his wife. “We’ve got big plans for the rest of this summer. We’re headed to the RV rally over on the Eastern shore right now, then we’re going to drive up the coast. I feel like eating lobster in Maine.” He looked down at his wife. “We really need to get going, dear.”

  Marsha stood and hugged her parents. “Have fun at the beach.”

  For the next hour as Gabe’s coworkers, family friends, acquaintances through church, and several social organizations Marsha was involved in, paid their condolences, their former team, plus Matthew, stayed close to Marsha. Both children clung to her side. Anora often hid behind her mother’s flowing dress, obviously overwhelmed by all the adults.

  Logan had never developed a close relationship with the little girl, like he had with Brann, but watching her cower behind her mother made him want to swoop in and protect her. He felt this insatiable need to make her feel safe.

  Gabriel’s first wife, Janie, and their only child, Bradley, stood a few feet away. Logan found it interesting that she had remarried a much older man and never had more children. He had passed away a year ago from a heart attack. A few people had approached them and exchanged words of sorrow, but most were congratulating Bradley and inquiring about his first few weeks at West Point.

  “Oh, fuck.” Teagan spoke under her breath.

  Logan followed her gaze to the redhead in the tight green dress making a beeline for Marsha.

  “I’ve got this,” Matthew announced as he stepped away from the group to intersect the diva’s progress.

  Gabe’s brief and tumultuous marriage to Lacey had ended relatively quickly. While they were both going through divorce at the same time, he and Logan had spoken often. Each had married shortly after returning from the failed Syrian mission. Sometimes, Logan wondered if the death of Mason, and the realization that life was too short, had anything to do with their hasty decisions to marry.

  Smiling diplomatically, Matthew had guided Lacey away from the other ex-wives.

  “I have every right to be standing there with them.” Her loud voice carried across the room.

  Janie and Marsha exchanged a nervous glance.

  Logan couldn’t hear what Matthew was saying, but he seemed to be calming Gabe’s second wife.

  “Dodged that bullet,” Teagan said, leaning into Logan. “At least Marsha’s crazy ass sister, Ashley, isn’t here.”

  “Yeah, I’m surprised she missed an opportunity for her over-the-top style drama.” Logan scanned the room, checking each door, half expecting to see the drugged-out bitch make a grand entrance.

  “Thank Christ, she’s in rehab…again.” Teagan glanced over at him. “That’s one less thing for Marsha to worry about.”

  Silently, Logan agreed.

  As the line exiting the bereavement dinner dwindled for a moment, Marsha turned to Teagan. “Could you watch the kids for a couple hours tomorrow? I need to clean out Gabe’s apartment. When I called to cancel his lease, they only gave me three days.” She then turned her attention to Micah and Logan. “If either of you are going to be around, would you mind helping me with boxes? Everything is either going to go to the dumpster or charity.”

  “I’ll be more than happy to help you,” Logan offered.

  Micah looked worried. “Let me see if I can rearrange a few things at work. I’ll let you know by the time we get back to your house.”

  “I don’t want to take you away from something important, Micah,” Marsha protested. “I just need someone to carry the heavier boxes and Logan will be there.”

  “How about I come up and help you this weekend?” Micah sounded hopeful. “You said earlier that you needed to clean out his office. I can help you with that.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Marsha smile was genuine and thankful. “I don’t want to sound like a bitch, but I’d like to get him out of our lives and move on.” She gave her children one-armed hugs. “We deserve a fresh clea
n start.”

  “You’re not thinking about moving, are you?” Teagan interjected.

  “Actually, I am.” Marsha glanced down at her son. “Brann would be entering a new school this year.” She shifted her gaze to her daughter. “And Anora’s about to begin pre-kindergarten, so the timing is good. They would be making new friends anyway. My parents aren’t getting any younger, so moving closer to their home in Asheville, North Carolina is a serious consideration. There are several military bases in North Carolina and plenty of open federal jobs. Hopefully, I could just transfer.”

  “I thought you liked your job at Homeland Security,” Teagan protested.

  “I do.” Marsha gave a small smile and a nod to three men in suits across the room. “But with Gabe gone, there’s really no reason for me to stay in the DC area.”

  With Matthew clasping her elbow, Lacey sashayed past Janie and Bradley without a word. She stopped abruptly in front of Marsha. “I’ll be in contact with you to see what Gabriel left me in his will,” Lacey announced.

  Marsha raised her eyebrow. “Don’t bother. As the executor, I can tell you that you weren’t even mentioned.”

  “But Gabriel and I were—" she pleaded with crocodile tears.

  “Divorced. A decade ago.” Teagan stepped between the two women. “Matthew, would you be so kind as to escort this woman out of here?”

  “Time to go, Lacey.” Matthew tugged at her elbow. Quietly he added, “If you know what’s good for you, don’t ever try to contact Marsha.”

  “Gabriel promised he’d take care of me,” Lacey protested.

  “He also couldn’t divorce you fast enough.” Matthew exited the building, practically dragging Lacey the entire way.

  Logan liked the way Matthew handled that situation. Elizabeth’s new husband was growing on him, but he would always miss Mason Sinclair. Now, there was a good man.

  When Matthew returned, he went directly to Marsha. “She won’t be bothering you again.”