Angelo: A Second Chance Navy SEAL Romance Page 16

  “Found it.”

  His father opened the screen door and met Angelo in the hall. “Your mother is going to ask me two things when she gets back. One—when are you coming back with her car? And two—are you going to be back for dinner? We were thinking of going out tonight.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll call as soon as I can.”

  His father cocked his head. “Don’t screw it up this time.”

  Angelo gave him a lopsided smile. “Thanks for the sound advice.”

  He rushed out the front door and into the driveway. Once seated in the tiny Fiat, he backed out of the driveway in such a hurry, he didn’t see Matty driving up towards him in their father’s car.

  “Hey, oh!” Matty beeped and stuck his head out the window. “Where did you learn to drive, Doc? Med school?”

  Angelo ignored him. He didn’t have time for the banter. He waved and drove off.

  Cate had called him. She was upset and had reached out to him. He damn well wasn’t going to let her down.

  Angelo gunned it down the tree-lined road and onto the main street quicker than necessary. His stomach churned. He pounded on the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

  The letters messed with his head and led him to screw up his chance with Cate. But he couldn’t turn off the radar. He was too fucked up by years of bullshit and missions turning FUBAR, followed by despair. It always took its toll.

  What was in the package she received? Who the hell was this fucker and why wouldn’t he leave Cate alone?

  He followed the signs to head north to Providence, seeking out glimpses of nature. Woodland with its secret wildlife, water with sunlight reflecting on the surface—those peaceful settings calmed him.

  Maybe he was fucked up, but he could learn to relax around certain people. Like his team and his family. And Cate. The encounter with the little girl and the bunny in the arcade came to mind. She had always been kind.

  Memories returned as he drove from one mile into the next. When they’d been finishing out their senior year, and he’d told her of his plans to enlist in the Navy, she’d been surprised.

  “What about college? With your grades and scores, you could get into a top school.”

  “It’s not part of my plan, Cate. I’m going to enlist, and I want to be one of their best. My goal is to be a SEAL.”

  “A SEAL?” She’d raised her brows. “You do know how difficult that is?”

  He’d laughed. “I do. It’s a long, tough road ahead.”

  She’d given him a forlorn look. Their futures were headed in two different directions.

  How had they grown so close again so quickly only to have it detonate like a grenade—with little warning, resulting in sudden devastation?

  Angelo gripped the steering wheel more tightly, but then let off the gas when he spotted the speed limit, and he’d gone twenty miles over it. Damn it, why had this nut job fixated on her and her work? Countless contractors worked on projects, yet this guy had to pick Cate. His Cate.

  Not technically, but didn’t he have some sort of claim to her? Not really. Nothing beyond a short-term fling on leave and even that had fizzled.

  That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted more from her. A relationship. A promise to be there for each other. If she’d have him.

  Angelo struggled to stay close to the speed limit as he drove and avoided weaving in and out of traffic. After taking more deep breaths, he loosened his death grip on the wheel.

  He fixed his gaze ahead. The minutes dragged until he finally left the highway and drove on the main street that led to her neighborhood. As he passed the pub where she’d kicked his ass in pool and the arcade where he’d won a stuffed bunny for her, memories flooded him. Happy ones. Being around her brought him a contentedness he hadn’t felt since—he couldn’t exactly remember when.

  And their time on the beach would be something he wouldn’t forget soon. He’d never curse the sand again.

  Finally, he turned onto her tree-lined road and spotted the brick townhouse complex where she lived. Warmth clashed with regret. He should have been there already, woken up with her in his arms.

  After he pulled up into an available spot in her parking lot, he broke into a near trot on the walkway.

  He rang the bell. Ten impatient seconds ticked by. He knocked. “Cate?” He paused, waiting. “Cate, it’s me.”

  Thirty slow seconds later and no answer. His heart pounded. What the hell? Why would she call him over and then not answer the door? Had she changed her mind about seeing him?

  Or something worse. She couldn’t answer the door.

  He reached into his wallet for the key. Fuck. He’d left it on her counter when she’d ended it.

  Likely for the better. His impatience would tempt him to use it. And if he barged in like he owned the place, she’d be pissed.

  He rang the bell again twice more. “Cate, it’s Angelo.” Then he paced and forced himself to wait.

  Catherine

  Angelo came. Catherine’s heart jumped in jubilation. The third time he rang the doorbell and called for her, dread settled in her gut with a repetitive thud.

  Trent glowered at her and then smiled. “Time to break lover boy’s heart.” He paced before her with the knife.

  She yearned to scream and warn Angelo.

  Trent pointed the blade at her face. “Don’t be stupid.”

  Angelo pounded on the door. “Cate.”

  Trent waved the knife toward the window. “Get rid of him.”

  She exhaled. Yes, getting Angelo away from them, to safety, was preferable than the dark scenarios she’d envisioned.

  “Tell him you found the cats,” Trent directed. “And you’re busy.”

  She pursed her lips. “Okay.” Maybe she could give him a signal at the door. Some sort of eye twitch or mouth Call the Police.

  She struggled against the restraints. “Can you untie me so I can go tell him?”

  He barked out with laughter. “I’m crazy, not clueless.” He raised his chin with a half-nod. “Tell him from here.”

  “He’s not going to hear me.”

  “Don’t say anything besides what I told you to say.” He pointed the knife at her for emphasis.

  She recoiled but recovered. “You don’t have to remind me you have a knife,” she snapped. “I get it.”

  Trent glared at her before he cracked the window.

  “Cate.” Angelo knocked louder. “It’s Angelo. You told me to come over.”

  She took a shallow breath and sighed. “Sorry, Angelo. I can’t come to the door right now.”

  Did her voice sound off? Yes, of course. How could it not? A guy had tied her up and threatened her with a knife. Would Angelo catch it?

  “What about the cats?”

  “Um—” She glanced at Trent, who narrowed his eyes at her. “They’re fine. I found them.”

  “What?” Angelo paused. “Why didn’t you call me back then?”

  His voice was clipped. From confusion or exacerbation?

  “I’m so sorry, Angelo, but—I’m tied up right now.”

  Trent hissed and moved the knife to her throat. “Easy,” he whispered. “Tell him you’ll call him tomorrow.”

  “What the hell’s going on, Cate? Why don’t you let me in?” After a pause, he added, “It’s not like we don’t have things to talk about.”

  Her heart thumped in her chest cavity. An ache spread in her gut. Oh, how she wished she could do what he suggested. Not just talk to him but see him. Be with him.

  Hot tears stung hear eyes and regret flooded her. What a fool she’d been to end it. She’d ruined what could have been the best week of her life.

  “Tell him,” Trent commanded.

  She sucked in a shaky breath. “Angelo, this is a bad time. I’m sorry you came all this way. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Although it killed her to send him away—the only one who could help her in this situation—at least she could keep him safe.

  Her heart crashed into her ri
bs. He’d never know the real reason why she had to push him away.

  Angelo

  Something was wrong. It didn’t take a whole lot of brain cells to put that together.

  The odd emphasis she put on the words when she said she was tied up was enough to trigger his suspicions, not to mention the vast difference in tone from her phone call and then pushing him away. Why had she changed her mind?

  It could be a woman thing, he supposed. And who the hell could figure out that code but other women.

  He gritted his teeth. No, it was more than that. Those words echoed in his head—tied up.

  He walked to her kitchen window. The curtains were parted enough so he could peek in. He assessed the interior for any signs of something off. Furniture upturned. Some sign of struggle.

  Nothing like that. He took a closer look, scanning the details as he’d been trained to do. Then he noticed it—something most people would overlook. Her pillows weren’t lined up on the sofa like square soldiers. That wasn’t like Cate. It didn’t fit her compulsive neatness.

  And then on the floor—a white letter.

  Shit. Considering what had happened the last time he’d looked at her mail, maybe he should step back.

  But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Cate was in trouble.

  On the off chance that it was unlocked, Angelo turned the doorknob. No such luck.

  If he hadn’t left the damn key to her place, he would’ve let himself in. Sure, he’d have to face her wrath, but at least he could ensure she was safe.

  The kitchen window was cracked a few inches. If it wasn’t locked, he could push it open. But hell, he’d never get his body through that small space. Maybe there was another open window. It was summer, and she preferred to leave windows open. He laughed, thinking of one of their discussions. Now, he agreed with her argument. Leave all the damn windows open—and unlocked.

  He scanned up to her bedroom window again. It was now closed. Interesting.

  Angelo might have been around danger for too long, but he couldn’t ignore the signs. Perhaps he was being paranoid and acting as insane as the nutter who wrote her letters, but he’d have to take that risk. If she was in danger, the first suspect would be that creep. And if somebody was in there with her, he wanted him to think Angelo had left.

  He let out a big exhale. “Okay, Cate. I get it. I’m leaving.”

  He moped down the walkway with his head hanging low, in case he was being watched. He cut into the parking lot and moved down the block. He scanned every part of the scene as he moved through parked cars, his instincts fully engaged. Movement in the back of a black sedan caught his eye. Cate’s kittens stared out. When they saw him, they pawed the window and meowed for his attention.

  This wasn’t her car. Fuck. She’d lied about finding them, probably because she had to. Someone had to be coercing her to say those things. And he might be armed. And if it was that guy…

  “Hold on, kitties. I’ll be back.”

  He had to get to Cate first.

  He ran back toward her place, seeking concealment en route. Hiding behind cars. Creeping along the shadows at the side of the building. He rushed through the gates into the courtyard. Nobody was lounging around, thank God. A window was open on the second floor where she had her office. It was a normal size window, not that tiny one in the kitchen, and he could fit through it.

  Angelo scanned the exterior to see what he had to work with to climb up. A brick building with window ledges. He grunted. He’d scaled worse.

  A drainpipe. Deeper recesses in between bricks where he could get a footing. Windowsills. A few vines. He assessed the optimal route to climb and then stuck his fingers in between bricks. Time to go for it.

  Once he pulled himself up and supported his weight on a brick footing, he maneuvered up and over the bricks. His pulse quickened, but he ignored it and pushed on.

  Reach, reposition, support, adjust.

  Only once he’d supported himself on a window ledge, did he think of a complication. If one of the neighbors saw him, they’d call the police. Hell, maybe he should’ve called the police. He was so used to responding to emergencies that he didn’t think of the other option until he was halfway up the wall. It wasn’t as if he could call 911 for backup when on an overseas mission.

  If there was nothing off inside her place, and she learned of him trying to break in, she’d never talk to him again. Shit, he couldn’t leave yet, not until he knew she was safe.

  Just a few more feet and he would make it to the open window. Sure, it was open, but the screen was there. He had to knock that out without making much noise.

  He reached over to grasp a drainpipe for support. Then he took a deep breath and released his hold with one hand so he could apply pressure to the screen. He forced the metal on the edges inward. If he lost his grip or slipped, he was fucked.

  So, don’t do either of those things.

  The metal bent. He pushed the screen in, careful not to use too much force. If it fell to the ground, it might as well set off an alert screeching, “Intruder!”

  With that obstacle removed, he forced his way into her study. He rolled in, rose to his feet, and exhaled.

  He was in.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Catherine

  Angelo was gone. A maelstrom of despair threatened to engulf her. She took deep breaths to control the sinking sensation. No sense of dwelling on his absence. She had to use her head. Trent still clutched the knife at his side.

  “This isn’t the way to make things better.” Catherine struggled to keep her voice steady. “We can talk about a better option.”

  “No!” Trent spun in a semi-circle and faced her. “I told you, enough doctors.”

  He’d seen some, but what had happened? Was he supposed to be on meds? Were they involved in his perception about his memory issues?

  Movement from the doorway caught her attention. Angelo burst through. She gasped.

  Before she could speak, he hurled something at the side of Trent’s head. The object crashed to the floor. Trent howled as he leaned forward.

  “Angelo!” she cried.

  He didn’t reply. With a determined expression, he moved a pair of scissors from his left hand to right, thrusting it like a weapon. He lunged at Trent and wrestled him to the ground. Within a few, pulse-racing seconds, Angelo had disarmed him.

  He threw the knife across the floor near her feet. She reached for it, but the damn rope didn’t allow any leeway.

  Trent struggled against Angelo. “Get off me!”

  Angelo wrestled Trent onto his stomach and pinned his arms behind his back. “Shut the fuck up.”

  She searched for something to help Angelo. The black and silver object he’d thrown at Trent was her stapler. Her chest heaved. How resourceful. Angelo must have figured out something was wrong, broken in, and grabbed whatever he could use as a weapon.

  “The rope.” She attempted to point, but the restraints held her in place. “Next to the bed.”

  Angelo caught her gaze. Time slowed and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. He came for her. He wrestled an armed intruder to rescue her. He could get hurt. Killed. In that moment, it all rang clear. She’d pined for him for ten years for a reason. He was the one. Obstacles didn’t matter and time and distance wouldn’t change her feelings.

  That had to wait. She motioned with her chin. He followed her gaze and reached for the rope. It was out of reach.

  Damn it, he couldn’t grab it without him relinquishing his hold on Trent.

  Angelo moved back, releasing some of the pressure on Trent, who used the opportunity to try to break free.

  “Don’t fuckin’ move,” Angelo said, smashing Trent’s body back to the floor.

  “Wait. Let me try.” The rope on her ankles allowed enough leeway for her to move a few inches. She hobbled over on the chair, scraping across the wood floor. Scooting barely an inch after frustrating inch. Her body heated under this odd exertion. It would take a hell of
a long time at this rate.

  “I got him, Cate,” Angelo said. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Fuck you!” Trent struggled against Angelo straddling him.

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Angelo twisted Trent’s arm back, making him cry out. “You’re lucky I don’t do worse. Don’t ever mess with my girl.”

  My girl. Those words sent a ripple of delight through her despite the seriousness of the situation. She continued her awkward hobble.

  After what seemed like hours, she reached the rope. Now the next part of the challenge—getting it over to Angelo. If she kicked, the rope could go in any direction, even farther from where she wanted to go. Especially since her restraints didn’t allow much movement.

  Think of it as a pool table. Where do you want the ball to go?

  Sure, her foot and a ball of rope wasn’t the same concept as a pool stick and a billiard ball, but it all came down to geometry and physics.

  She maneuvered with clunky movements to turn to a more optimal position. Then she outlined her strategy. One. Two. Three. She kicked the rope.

  Without much momentum from the restraints, it didn’t land as close as she’d hoped, but it was in arm’s reach. Angelo reached back along his hip and grabbed the rope. While keeping his weight pinned on Trent, he tied him face down to the thick bed post legs.

  Angelo then rushed to her and worked on the knot fastening her wrists. After he freed them, she pulled them apart, ready to throw her arms around him. He moved on to her legs and removed the tightness binding her ankles. Although the rope burns stung her skin, relief flowed through her.

  She leaped out of the chair and into his arms. “Oh, Angelo.”

  “I got you, Cate.”

  He pulled her into such a tight embrace, it was like being restrained again, but in a far more enticing hold.

  He pulled back just enough to search her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Now that you’re here. I regret everything. I was a fool.”

  “No, I pushed you and I deserved it. I’m sorry.”