Captured 3 Read online

  Captured

  The Saved Series

  By

  Lorhainne Eckhart

  “The series is worth reading, but it's hard to read also. Although I agree with the reviewer that the main character was hard to like I feel he needs to be defended also. He was who he was, even if we didn't like him or like his views of women. I don't have anyone in the military but I would assume that for a man to be the person that is responsible for a whole ship of people that he would have to be a very special person one that is different from most people. The next book in this series is so so hard to read and it places him in an even worse light, but again I must say its a very good story and one that I believe sheds an important light on an issue that usually falls under the heading of out of sight, out of mind. I wait impatiently for the third installment in this series to see where the author takes these characters and this issue, this book is worth the time and money to read” – Reviewer - Sherry

  “Great love story. I couldn't put it down. Living near Norfolk we hear about lots of navy stories. This one was riveting for start to finish.” -- Reviewer - Deborah

  Captain Eric Hamilton is now settled on base after giving up his first love, the sea, for his wife, Abby, and their children. He watches day in and day out as his friends are deployed, burning with an empty feeling as if life is passing him by—that is, until his friend Lieutenant Commander Joe Reed is captured while deployed in Iraq.

  While his family is at home, helpless, Joe’s life hangs in the balance, and Eric is forced to make a decision he swore he would never make again: Should he leave Abby and their children to go halfway around the world in search of a friend who may be dead?

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  Afterword

  Other Works by Lorhainne Eckhart

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  Chapter 1

  He needed a minute, maybe a little longer, to feel something other than regret and a sense of having been left behind. This was ridiculous, or so Eric tried to tell himself repeatedly, but the reassurance only deepened the feeling that some part of him was slowly dying. He took in his home, the brown frame bungalow with a sidewalk that curved around to meet the driveway and the double garage. It was a nice home, for navy housing, in a nice community. Everything was safe and predictable and the same. The bushes around front needed trimming, and the flower beds were now filled with dead and composting perennials in the chilly fall air. Even the leaves had turned yellow and were dropping at a steady clip, covering the once green grass. It was average work and would be the excitement of his weekend. There was always something to do for his house and home.

  He slid his hand over the sturdy black steering wheel and pulled his keys from the now silent ignition. He loved this car, a ’67 Shelby Mustang GT 500, one of the best cars—in Eric’s humble opinion—ever built. The 320-horsepower engine alone was an adrenaline rush. It had been a steal. He had picked it up from a sergeant, a man with a wife and three kids and another on the way. The man had loved the car, or so he said, but he was being re-stationed across the country, and it was time to say goodbye to his toy. Eric suspected those orders had come from the sergeant’s wife, because Eric would have moved heaven and earth to take this car across the country with him had he been in the sergeant’s position.

  For Eric, this car was an indulgence he believed he was entitled to after giving up the sea for Abby. He would never say that to her, though he wondered whether she knew. She was so kind and fragile, and saying how he felt would only be cruel. It would hurt her, and she’d blame herself. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, seeing the hurt in her eyes. Even though he felt empty on land, he’d choose Abby and his children over the sea any time. Most sailors and career navy men had both, but then, the married ones often had strong, stable wives manning the home front. Even though Abby had pleaded with him not to give up his career, he knew that her demons and nightmares and the pain of being taken still haunted her. No, he couldn’t take a chance and leave her and the children again. He needed to protect her. He needed to be her rock. He needed to be here to wake her, holding her when the nightmares took hold, reassuring her that she was safe.

  A tap on his window startled him. He glanced out before opening his door to see Mary-Margaret, the wife of Joe, his best friend and former XO. She stepped back, wearing blue jeans and a cream sweater. Her dark, straight hair touched her shoulders, and she wore tiny gold hoops in her ears. She was holding a dish covered with a towel.

  “Are you planning on sitting in your car all night, mooning over your new toy?” she said, her right dimple flashing as she teased him—though for some reason she seemed less put together, tonight, than she normally was.

  He gave the heavy door a shove, and it clicked closed. Taylor, Mary-Margaret and Joe’s eldest boy, was hovering beside her uneasily. At fourteen, he’d grown again, and he towered over his mother by almost a head. His dark hair was getting long, covering his ears, and his hands were shoved in his jeans pockets.

  “Are you missing some kids?” Eric asked right before he heard her two youngest arguing as they came out of the house next door. It was good having them close by, as Mary-Margaret and Joe had been his saving grace when Abby broke down. At the time, he’d been shipped out, and Abby had walked out on the kids in the dead of night. If Mary-Margaret and Joe hadn’t been so close…Eric still cringed as he relived that panicked call when Joe told him Abby was gone. He took a breath to push away that painful memory. He didn’t like going back there and reliving what had happened.

  Janey stomped across the grass toward her mother, wearing blue jeans and a hoodie, her long, dark hair in a ponytail. Her face was a picture of preteen surliness. Steven, who had celebrated his eleventh birthday last week while his dad was away, slammed the door of the house and leaped off the front step into a pile of leaves, calling after his sister. His tan jacket flapped open, his short, dark hair sticking up. Eric could see that the kids had had enough of their dad being away. They needed him and had held it together, but the tension was building. When Eric glanced over at Mary-Margaret, she rolled her eyes.

  “The joys of sibling rivalry,” she muttered.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Joe’s been gone too long, three months…” She stopped and glanced up at Taylor, who was listening. “Run on inside, Taylor. Give Abby a hand with the kids.”

  Eric took in all the kids. Steven and Janey had stomped right past him as if he didn’t exist. He could see that Taylor and his younger siblings were at an age where their independence shone through. It didn’t help that Joe was stationed over in Iraq—which was the reason the kids and Mary-Margaret were at his house now. Joe was going to Skype in, having actually arranged it with Eric…which he thought was odd, now, considering how close Joe and Mary-Margaret were. Maybe there was something going on that Joe needed to talk to Eric about.

  Eric realized that Taylor was still standing there, ignoring what his mom had asked. He wondered whether Taylor was going to argue with her, as he stayed where he was, shifting from one foot to the other, shoulders slumped.

  “Taylor, your mom asked you to do something, and I don’t see you moving,” Eric said. This time, the boy snapped his attention to Eric and shrugged. He said nothing but started up the sidewalk into the house through the open door. Eric definitely needed to have a talk with the boy. “What’s going on there?” Eric asked, taking in Mary-Margaret’s annoyance.

  Was she angry at him for stepping in? He didn’t think so, but she was losing control here. The kids were growing up, but a sadness lingered over them—and something else was going on, something he couldn’t put his finger on. He’d never seen Taylor not listen
to Mary-Margaret before. For a moment, he wondered whether Joe’s distance was sowing dissension in the ranks. They needed their father, his authority. But Eric was here, and right now it fell to him to step in and take them in hand while Joe was away. Another thing he had overlooked.

  Mary-Margaret sighed and shook her head. “Hormones, I think, and Dad’s not here. They miss him more than usual. We seem to be fighting more, and Taylor ran into some trouble at school.”

  “Oh, what kind of trouble?” He glanced up to the house and the open door, listening to the voices of Abby and the kids, along with the squeaky chatter of his four-year-old daughter, Rachel.

  “You know, the usual with kids his age: mouthing off to his teacher, was caught smoking in the bathroom at school with a couple of his friends. Stupid stuff.”

  He gave her all his attention, fighting the urge to drag Taylor back outside and give the kid a lesson he’d never forget. Disrespect was a line he shouldn’t have crossed, and Eric would make sure he never made the mistake of smoking again. “I’ll talk to him, sorry. I should’ve been over more. I’ll make sure to stop in every day until Joe gets back. As for this smoking thing, rest assured, I’ll put an end to it,” he said, glancing up to the house again. Another thing had been piled onto his plate, another thing he’d slipped up on. Taylor was at an age where he needed more of everything, more guidance and direction. Now he was going down the wrong road, experimenting and making bad decisions.

  Mary-Margaret was watching him under thick lashes, her lips tight. He wasn’t sure what was going through her head now. She appeared to be carrying the weight of the world, and she let out a sigh. “Would you? I’d really appreciate it,” she said. “Joe calls, but we’re so used to saying all the superficial stuff, how everything is good even though sometimes I feel as if everything is falling apart. I have to hide so much from him, pick and choose what to tell him and when to tell him. At the same time, I know how mad he’s going to be when he finds out I didn’t tell him something because he’s been off fighting, playing soldier or whatever it is you guys do over there.

  “When he comes home and finds out, sometimes he doesn’t take it well. He thinks I’m hiding things from him, so there are things I just never tell him. It becomes this balancing act you get good at the longer you’re in the military.” She glanced away and then forced a sad smile to her lips. “Sorry, I think maybe I’m just tired of holding it all together and going through this song and dance. But you know, Eric, what hurts sometimes is that I don’t think Joe really wants to know. He wants to go play war, and I hold everything together for him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Eric said. He didn’t know why he felt the need to apologize. That was exactly what he’d done to Abby, but at the same time he understood Joe’s need to go off and fight and serve. It was a part of himself he’d had to give up, a piece of his soul that he’d now lost—that need to go off and save the world, to be in the fight, the action, to have that adrenaline driving him.

  “Taylor and I have always been so close,” Mary-Margaret said, “but he needs a man to talk to.” She swept her hand in front of her face and set it on top of the dish she carried. “Never mind me. I’m just tired and missing my husband.” She stopped and glanced down. “Eric, is there something going on with Joe?”

  He frowned, not really sure what she was getting at. “You know I can’t tell you what Joe’s doing or where he’s stationed.”

  She appeared almost embarrassed, licking her lips. After all the years he’d known Mary-Margaret, he’d never known her to be nervous. “I know,” she finally said. “I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but Joe has been so distant—unusually so, lately. We’ve been married a long time, and the navy life is all I know, so I understand there are things you can’t tell me…but you can tell me if my husband’s having an affair.”

  It took him a moment to realize she was serious. “Uh…I don’t know where this is coming from,” he replied, “but Joe is probably the last man to cheat. If he was having an affair, we wouldn’t be friends. If there was even a hint that he was stepping out on you, well, you know I would break his face.”

  Perhaps that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, because she suddenly let a tear fall as her face crumpled.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” he said. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, and she instinctively rested her head against his chest. She was taller than Abby by a few inches, but shorter than his six feet two inches. As he looked down at her, she sniffed, trying to pull herself together, nodding anxiously. He could tell she was trying to find her voice.

  “I don’t know, Eric. There’s something different about Joe, and it’s not that he’s distracted. I know the difference. Do you know why he insisted he Skype here, at your house? He didn’t answer the email I sent yesterday asking what was going on.”

  Eric wasn’t sure what to say, but he too was wondering why Joe had insisted on Skyping here. It seemed odd, but he wasn’t about to fuel Mary-Margaret’s suspicions. He needed to have his own chat with his friend. “I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s been training is all I know, and being in camp instead of onboard a ship may be throwing him off. He’s got a lot on his plate is all, I’m sure.”

  It sounded good, anyway, but Eric still couldn’t get over Joe’s choice to join a ground team as part of ordinance training, to be part of a convoy clearing the way. It was dangerous, and Eric wondered why he’d put in for this posting in the first place. It was something he’d expect from someone younger, someone without a wife and three kids. This posting had been a choice, even though Joe had told his wife otherwise. Maybe this was his midlife crisis. Eric really needed to take his friend aside and have a talk—but not tonight.

  “You haven’t heard when he’s coming home, have you?” Mary-Margaret asked.

  They started walking up to the house. Eric was in his uniform, and he tucked his hat under his arm. He then extended his hand so Mary-Margaret could walk ahead of him. He didn’t like seeing her like this, and he really hoped Joe would set things straight or fix whatever this was with his family. “Friday,” he replied. “I don’t think anything’s changed, but we’ll find out soon. He’s Skyping in at six.”

  “Six, are you kidding? I thought it was at seven. It’s almost six now. Why the change?”

  He hesitated, grinding his jaw as he tried to make sense of what could have been a misunderstanding. Damn it! What was he doing, putting himself in the middle of his friend’s marriage? Maybe Joe had been hoping Mary-Margaret wouldn’t be there. Eric hoped not, as he followed the frantic woman into his house. There had to be a good reason for the mix-up, or at least he hoped to hell there was. He was taken in by the spicy aroma wafting from the kitchen and his wife’s concern as she saw Mary-Margaret dashing past her.

  Eric closed the door behind him, and his gaze went to Abby, who wore a red apron over a black turtleneck. Her blond hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore dark-rimmed glasses, a recent addition after she started having headaches and found out she was nearsighted. She looked cute.

  “Hi,” she said, taking him in. She hesitated a moment, holding a dishtowel in her pale hands, and she gestured to Mary-Margaret, who snapped at Steven in the kitchen as he helped himself before everyone was ready to eat. Abby took another step closer to him. “Everything all right?”

  She was so petite, curvy in all the right places. She still struggled with nightmares from when she had been taken in Paris and sold to an Arab. She’d escaped, beaten and pregnant, which had been how he found her. She still woke in a cold sweat some nights from nightmares that would have her crying and begging, always after something upsetting happened during the day. Eric found himself taking a minute every day when he came home just to look at her, to get a sense of how she was doing. He’d talk to her and sometimes question her, trying to figure out if she was upset or hiding something. From there, he always had a pretty good idea of how her day had gone. He’d learned, too, to keep anything upsetting f
rom her. When the TV was splashed with everything horrible and dramatic happening overseas in the war in Iraq, he turned it off.

  “Joe’s Skyping in at six, which is any time now, but he told Mary-Margaret seven,” he explained. “He must have been busy, and their wires just crossed.” He was trying to lighten the mood, but she frowned anyways.

  “Does he do that often? That doesn’t seem like Joe,” she said, looking up at him. Of course, she’d also figured out there was more to it.

  “How was today?” he asked, and she took another hesitant step and then another until she was standing so close he could smell her sweetness and feel her heat. She reached up and touched his face. He could hear the scrape of whiskers as she slid her hand over his cheek, her light blue eyes taking him in. She didn’t try to hide from him now like he knew she had before, not wanting to burden him. She’d almost destroyed herself, their children, and their relationship in the process, and she promised never to do it again. He could see the effort she made every day.

  “It was a good day,” she said. “I missed you. How was your day?”

  He leaned down and kissed her, sliding his hands over her cheeks, smoothing over her soft, silky hair, caressing her for a second with his thumbs. She smiled up at him, the light flickering in her eyes, chasing away the shadow that had been there a moment before.

  “It was good,” he replied. It had sucked, actually, getting dragged into meetings most of the day. He missed the action of being at sea on his ship, in the thick of it. Now he was pushing paper, commanding from shore, something he had never wanted to do.

  She smiled at him and leaned into his hand before he pulled away. “Liar.”

  He raised his eyebrows. She’d never called him that before. He didn’t like it, and he moved to pull his hand away. “Abby…”

  “You think I don’t know what you did for me, for us? You gave up what you loved.”