pushed to his feet and scanned this room with even more vigor than the others. The guys who’d planted that bug obviously hadn’t wanted to listen to the crying and fussing of a toddler.
Miguel shook his head at Jennifer and she straightened Mikey’s covers before leading him out of the room.
When he walked into Jen’s bedroom, the scent of her signature perfume hit him like a wave. Some nights he’d wake up in his cell smelling that fragrance. He knew it was a dream or hallucination at the time, but he’d wallowed in it anyway.
His gaze tripped over the king-size bed, and he momentarily squeezed his eyes shut. Had she shared that bed with anyone else since his...disappearance? He couldn’t hold that against her if she did. She had every right to move on with her life.
But the way she’d kissed him and clung to him outside gave him a selfish hope that she hadn’t.
He swept the room and got a hit. The blood boiled in his veins as he removed the device from a picture frame above her bed. He dropped that bug in the same glass of water and then finished his search of the rest of the house.
He tossed the bug detector on the kitchen counter and enfolded Jen in his arms again. “I’m just glad they didn’t plant a camera, or all of that would’ve been for nothing.”
She squirmed from his grasp and pressed her palms against his chest. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, where you’ve been and why someone is bugging my house.” Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt. “Not that I’m not thrilled you’re back and safe, even if I am still pinching myself.”
He took both of her hands and kissed one wrist and then the other. “Let’s sit down.”
“Do you want something to drink? To eat?” She skimmed her hands down his sides. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I’ll just get some water.” He pushed aside the glass with the two bugs. “Not this glass.”
She filled a glass with water from a dispenser in the fridge and handed it to him. “Let’s talk.”
As he followed her to the sofa in the living room, his mind whirled with images from the past two years of his life. What could he tell her? What would she want to hear?
The truth? Nobody could bear that. He’d barely survived it.
Jennifer sat on the sofa, curling one leg beneath her. “Can you start at the beginning?”
He settled beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders. “God, it’s amazing to see you. Unbelievable.”
“How do you think I feel? At least you knew I was alive. You even knew about Mikey...somehow.” She threaded her fingers through his. “I thought—They told me you were dead.”
“I’m sorry.” He kissed the side of her head. “If I could take it all back, all those months, everything.”
“The beginning, Miguel.” She pursed her lips together in that schoolteacher way she had.
“We received some intel on Vlad. You remember I told you about him, right?”
“He was the sniper for the other side you guys kept coming up against until he disappeared from the field.”
“He seemed to have dropped off the face of the Earth. We thought he might be dead, but we heard chatter and then received specific intelligence that he was regrouping in the caves of Afghanistan, which seemed totally likely.”
“The last I heard from you was that you were going off on some assignment as a lone sniper, apart from your team.”
“That assignment was tracking Vlad to his hideaway. I was pulled off a mission with my own team to help this one.” He might be revealing classified information to Jen, but he didn’t give a damn. The navy, his brothers, had never turned their backs on him, but he couldn’t say the same for the shadowy intelligence agencies that called the shots.
“And it all went horribly wrong. The navy wouldn’t tell me much, but I knew others had died with you.” She bumped her knee against his. “Are they alive, too?”
“No. They’re all dead.”
She covered her eyes with one hand and sniffed. “So I’m the only one who gets the homecoming.”
Miguel closed his eyes and clearly saw the ambush of the other SEALs at the cave, the pop of the guns, the flash of the gunpowder.
“What happened to you, Miguel?”
His lips twisted. “Do you have a few days?”
She snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his chest. “I have all the time you need, mi amor.”
Smiling, he ruffled her soft hair. He’d been teaching her Spanish and she’d picked it up quickly, despite her atrocious accent.
“The mission went to hell. Someone set a trap. The SEAL team on the ground was ambushed and killed, and I was captured.”
Her back rose and fell with quick, panting breaths. “H-how long? How long were you a prisoner?”
“Just over eighteen months.”
She must’ve been doing the calculation in her head because her shoulders stiffened. She mumbled into his shirt. “Where have you been the past four to five months? Why didn’t you contact me?”
“Various hospitals, starting with the one in Germany, debriefing sessions, intelligence meetings.” He didn’t mention the psychiatric units. He didn’t want her pity.
She finally raised her head from his chest and met his gaze. “I’m sure you needed...treatment. I’m sure the navy and the CIA wanted to pick your brain. But those places didn’t have telephones?”
“No. Literally, no. None for me anyway.”
“They wouldn’t allow you to use the phone?”
“No.”
“And they wouldn’t notify me? Your father? Your brother? Miguel, your father...”
“I know he’s dead.” His nostrils flared. “They wanted you to go on believing I was dead, too. They still want you believing that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Those bugs you found—is that the navy, the FBI, some intelligence agency I don’t need to know about?”
“It’s not the navy. At least the navy is not calling the shots on this one.”
“But you have reason to believe forces in the intelligence community broke into my home and planted listening devices?”
“Yes...maybe.” He didn’t know who was behind the sinister vibe he’d picked up at the debriefing center.
“Miguel, why? They should be treating you like the hero you are. They should be throwing you a ticker tape parade.”
“Part of it is the sensitive nature of the assignment. They never went public with it.”
“Part of it.” She smoothed a hand across the shirt she’d wrinkled earlier. “What’s the other part? Why wouldn’t they allow you to contact me?”
Running a hand through his hair, longer than he usually wore it, he said, “I don’t know.”
“They don’t know you’re here.”
“They don’t know where I am, but I’m sure they can make an educated guess that I’m coming here.”
“You spent eighteen months as a prisoner of war and now your own government wants to imprison you again?” Her cheeks flew red flags, indignation making her voice squeak.
“I don’t know what they want, but I wasn’t going to stick around anymore to find out.” Guilt stabbed at his gut. The FBI had warned him that he could be putting Jennifer in danger by showing up on her doorstep, but