Wounded at the Lake
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Other Mitzi Pool Bridges titles
Wounded at the Lake
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
A note from the author…
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
“Coop?”
Lori’s soft voice made his heart beat a tattoo in his chest. He turned over to see her outline from the moonlight filtering in from his window. “What is it, Lori? Can’t you sleep?”
She shut the door and came closer. Coop found it hard to breathe. The sweet smell of soap and strawberries hit him as she inched closer. He didn’t move. Didn’t dare.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Talk?” Really? They could have talked earlier. Why now?
“Yes.” She was beside the bed now. He could reach out and pull her to him. Didn’t. Talk about tense. His body was one long stretched-out nerve. Didn’t she know what she did to him? Didn’t she know he wanted her? No matter how much she trusted him, right now she wasn’t safe.
“May I sit down?”
No. “I think you should go to your room. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Please. Just for a minute.”
How could he resist the sweet yearning in her voice? Or was he misinterpreting? “Can’t it wait?”
“No.”
He inched over. “Then sit and tell me what’s troubling you.” He had to force the words past his throat when she sat down. The feel of her hip against his, even in those ridiculous too-short sweats, made him so hard he couldn’t think straight.
“What did you want to tell me?” It better be short and sweet or he was going to grab her and make mad, passionate love.
Other Mitzi Pool Bridges titles
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.:
~*~
FIND MY BABY
~*~
The Callahan Series
Book One: PROMISE KEPT
Book Two: PROMISE BROKEN
Book Three: PROMISE HER
Book Four: PROMISE MADE
Book Five: PROMISE RENEWED
Book Six: PROMISE THEM
~*~
The Lobster Cove Series
CATCH ME IF YOU CAN
ANGEL IN DISGUISE
Wounded
at the Lake
by
Mitzi Pool Bridges
The Wounded SEAL Trilogy
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Wounded at the Lake
COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Mitzi Pool Bridges
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Kim Mendoza
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Crimson Rose Edition, 2015
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0368-0
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0369-7
The Wounded SEAL Trilogy
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For all the Military Warriors out there
who stand ready to give their all for their country
God Bless
Chapter One
Cooper Browning grabbed the coffee pot, poured a healthy amount in his to-go cup and closed the lid. The noise in the den when the Texans made a touchdown tightened his nerves. His brothers, Dirk and Matt, gave each other a high five and gloated when the extra-point kick gave the team a three-point lead.
Any other Sunday, he’d be right in there with them. Today, he wanted to think and he couldn’t do it here.
As was the family routine, he left a note on the small pad held to the fridge by a German Shepherd dog magnet to let Shorty know he’d be back later.
He detoured by the dog pens to give them one last check before he left. His presence started a hymn of barking that made him smile.
Starting a military dog-training enterprise had been good for him and Dirk. In the SEALs, they’d seen firsthand how military dogs saved lives, and vowed to get involved when they were out of the service. Neither knew then just how involved.
After their initial greeting, the dogs quieted. All except Thor.
Thor was their smartest and their best. He was almost ready for the military. Coop would miss him. He tried his damnedest not to get too close to the dogs in training, as he knew they were his for only a short time. For some unknown reason, he felt different about Thor.
He opened the pen and Thor bounded to him, rubbed his head against Coop’s thigh, and looked up at him with sorrowful brown eyes. Little wonder he felt more for this animal.
“How would you like to go for a ride?”
Thor barked happily.
Coop would swear the dog understood every word.
“Let’s go.”
Thor ran to the truck and waited for Coop. In less than a minute, they were on their way.
At first he didn’t know where he was going. Just somewhere quiet.
“The lake.” He couldn’t think of a better place to go and mull over the case from hell. Taking Highway Fifty-Nine out of Houston, it wasn’t long before Coop turned his Ford pickup onto the familiar rutted lane leading to the two lots on Lake Houston Gramps had purchased long before Coop was born.
Situated on the West Fork of San Jacinto River and a short fifteen miles northeast of Houston, Texas, the almost twelve thousand acre lake had become a favorite fishing and camping area for the family.
It had been Gramps’ getaway place. Lately, Coop found himself going there when he had a problem to solve or wanted solitude. Just what he was looking for today.
“Must have grown more ruts since I was here last.”
Thor growled his disapproval as he shifted to and fro in the seat. The fawn-colored Belgian Malinois’ ears were perked up in indignation,
“I could put you in a seatbelt.” Coop chuckled, as his front tires hit a rather deep groove. He reached over and put a steadying hand on Thor’s back. “We’re almost there.”
Pine trees covered the area. Untrimmed brush had grown taller in the last six months. One of these days, he and his brothers were going to have to take a day and do some serious mowing.
He took a right at the end of the lane and parked between two tall pine trees in a grove close to the water.
Lowering his window, he took a deep breath, and let the peace of the plac
e wash over him. “I love it here, Thor. You will, too.”
Thor gave a sharp bark of agreement.
For a moment, Coop relished the quiet. Not a whisper of traffic, not a single human voice. The soft lapping of water as it hit the shore, the sound of small creatures running through the brush, and the occasional birdsong, lifted a portion of the stress resting between his shoulder blades.
Perfect.
He opened the truck door, stepped out, took another deep breath, and stretched. “Damn.” His left leg went into an involuntary muscle cramp. As if realizing Coop’s discomfort, Thor rubbed his head against Coop’s thigh. For a moment, Coop rested and let the scent of the lake wash over him. The smell of pine, dry grass, and lake water brought back memories.
A quick leg massage, and he headed for the large boulder that once was his and Gramps’ favorite spot.
Thor ran to the edge of the lake, took a drink, and looked back at Coop, who gestured at the water. “It’s all right.”
Coop laughed as Thor bounded in, only to come out quickly. “Cold, isn’t it?”
Because the sun was shining, it was a relatively warm sixty degrees, which was close to normal for late November in the Houston area. The water would be much colder.
Thor shook off water and followed Coop onto the rock, joining the man who sat down and looked across the wide span of water. Trees lined the shore. A few were changing colors. Orange and red peeked out here and there.
This had been Gramps’ favorite spot to do some serious fishing. They could always drop a line in the pond on the homestead, but this was different. Special.
The two of them had come here, off and on, from the time Coop was a four-year-old. He lay back, put his hands behind his head, and remembered how, over the years, Gramps had patiently shown him how to bait a hook, take the hook out of the fish’s mouth, and later, when he was older, how to gut and fillet it for cooking.
As a youngster, this place had been magic; good times alone with Gramps was always a fun outing. When Dirk joined them, it was even better.
“Things are different now, Thor.” Gramps was gone, and Coop was a grown man with problems he couldn’t have imagined as a child.
The problem plaguing him now was the case he’d taken on two weeks earlier. It was at a standstill and he didn’t know where to go from here.
The panic-stricken phone call to his and Dirk’s PI firm from their SEAL team buddy, Ross Young, had been unexpected. Their teammate’s ten-year-old daughter, Christie, had been kidnapped and went missing for three days. Now she was in a coma at the hospital. Houston’s police department couldn’t get a handle on who had taken her or where she had been kept. He’d asked Coop and Dirk to use their firm to find the bastards and put them away.
Strange. He had been about the same age as Christie when he’d come here so often after Dirk became family. He couldn’t imagine how shattering this must be to her parents. Or how the youngster would be able to handle the trauma when she awakened from her coma. If she awakened.
Coop and his brother, Dirk, had opened their PI firm not long after they returned from Afghanistan. They had wanted to join the FBI, but because of their war injuries, that dream had died, and Matt was the only one of the three of them to make it. Opening the PI firm was their second choice, and they were happy with it. What made this particular case more important than others was the fact that Ross had served in their unit and had been there during the firefight that almost cost Coop his leg—had cost Dirk half an arm. It was the worst day of his life. Thanks to Matt, he still had a life. The lingering pain in his leg because of that battle was nothing compared to what others had lost.
SEALs were as close as family. When a member of that family was in trouble, they relied on and took care of each other. Such was this case.
Coop had promised to do all he could to find those who had kidnapped Christie. So far, after hours of hitting the streets, and rutting though the underbelly of Houston on a search to find the pair of sisters who could help solve the case, he’d netted zero.
Frustration ate at him. He opened his eyes to see Thor asleep beside him. The sun had disappeared, and clouds rolled overhead, matching the gloom that descended on him at the thought of the case he couldn’t get a handle on.
Coop shut his eyes again and let the series of events leading to Christie’s coma unfold in his mind.
The day she escaped her captors, surveillance cameras had caught the youngster as she ran down the sidewalk. It didn’t take long to see two Asian women following her. Christie looked back, saw them, and ran faster. Which is when she ran into the street and was hit by a car.
Cameras showed the Asian women racing to her side, trying to get her up and into their arms. Bystanders stopped them. Coop didn’t think Christie would be safely in the hospital now, if the ambulance and the police hadn’t gotten there so fast. The women were involved. But how? Cameras showed them disappearing into the crowd.
No one, not the police, Coop, nor his foot soldiers at his PI firm, had been able to locate the two women.
Though the cops had identified them as sisters Zia and Tan Wong who worked in the mall at a nail salon, the two of them had gone so deep undercover, no one could find a trace.
The case was at a standstill and Christie was still in a coma. If she would only awaken, maybe she could tell them enough to set them on the right track to find her kidnappers.
He would find them, Coop vowed. Those who had kidnapped the child would face the justice they deserved.
The wind picked up. It was getting colder. He sat up. The clouds were darker now. A storm was brewing. Thor stood, his ears perked at attention. “What do you think, Thor? Should we call it a day?”
Thor growled low. “Not yet, huh? Okay.” He rubbed Thor’s sleek back, wondering again how he had allowed this dog to get under his skin.
Suddenly, another spasm shot through his leg. The cold, he thought. He should have worked out this morning.
He’d exercised all right, just not the kind his leg needed. By six, he’d been at the training arena putting a soon-to-be-military dog and his handler through their morning lesson. The dog was better than good. Except for the newbie, every one of their dogs in training could be released now. But he and Dirk didn’t want their graduates labeled as good. They wanted them to be superior. Therefore, their training took longer and was more intense than that of other schools.
Their dedication had paid off. They received top dollar for their dogs and had a long waiting list.
Now that their PI firm was busier than ever, and the canine training took so much time, it was imperative they hire someone to help with the dogs. It wouldn’t be easy to find the right person. He’d have to love dogs and have an immeasurable amount of patience.
Another problem.
Thor nudged his arm. Coop chuckled. “Want a treat?” Of course he did. Coop dug in his pocket and handed the dog a biscuit. Thor mumbled his approval so Coop gave him another. “That’s enough.”
Thor stood and went on alert. His head turned to the left, then the right. His low growl brought Coop to his feet. “What?”
The lake had turned choppy. Waves broke against the rock they stood on. “Good dog.” He rubbed Thor’s head.
Knowing he should leave, Coop remained in place, enjoying the change from clear skies to clouds—from slightly chilly to nippy.
“Are we in for a storm, Thor? Or a cold November shower?”
Thor growled.
Rain began to pepper the lake.
Coop was ready to leave when, unseen through the thick stand of trees and brush, he heard a car door slam a couple hundred yards away. “We have company.” Could be noisy fishermen or kids out for a day of Sunday fun before school tomorrow. He knew the owners of the property next door were out-of-towners and almost never came here.
A shot rang out.
Thor let out a sharp bark.
In seconds, Coop went from a man trying to solve his problems to SEAL mode. His gun was in
his hand before taking a second breath. “Such, Thor. Find. Sprechen.” Coop gave the German signal to speak. He hoped whoever had pulled the trigger would take heed. Thor obeyed, his bark loud and anxious as he bounded in the direction of the shot.
Pointing his gun in each direction as he scanned the area, Coop took special note of every tree, shrub, and rock in the vicinity.
Everything looked perfectly normal.
He crouched, slid off the rock, and edged around it. His gun leading the way, he looked right and left, front and back. Who was the shooter? Suddenly, he was back in a combat situation. Coop’s senses were on alert as his gaze swept the area a third time. But all he saw was rain on the lake, trees swaying in the breeze, and dried brush being pelted with rain. In a crouched position, he hurried after Thor as fast as he could. Was he overreacting? Maybe someone was simply target shooting? It was a favorite pastime of many Texans.
Still, doing so in the rain didn’t make sense.
A clap of thunder made him run faster.
A door slammed and a vehicle took off. Thor, still barking, bounded through the high, brown, almost dead, winter grass ahead of him.
Rain lashed at Coop as he hurried after Thor. Even without a bum leg there was no way he was going to keep up. Belgian Malinois were the fastest dogs around. He couldn’t even see the dog that, like a bullet, was responding to the signal with all the speed he had. He was beautiful to watch, but right now, Coop could only hear him.
It was cold now, and he was drenched, but it didn’t matter when he was in SEAL mode. Personal discomfort was put aside. Nothing mattered except the operation. Hunt and find the enemy.
By the time Coop reached Thor’s side, the dog was standing over a body.
Shit!
Body dump.
His heartbeat raced as he put his hands to his knees to bring his breathing under control. He’d been trained for just such a situation. Then, he’d been in a war. Now he was in his own backyard, and this wasn’t something one saw every day, as they had in Afghanistan.
Was the killer still here?
His Pucker Factor increased ten-fold.
Not likely, or there would be bullets headed his way. To be safe, he’d have to check. He looked around again. Rain brought visibility to a few hundred yards. But within that perimeter, there was nothing out of the ordinary.