The SEAL's Stolen Child. Laura Marie Altom

scents of roses, lilies, carnations and a dizzying assortment of other arranged flowers made her head pound and eyes water to such a degree she could hardly see the words on the hymnal’s pages. It was only her allergies making her a wreck. No matter what, she refused to give in to her grief in this too public arena.

      At the service’s end, the funeral director whisked her into a white limo for the short trek to the cemetery where her father had wanted to be buried next to her mother in the family tomb.

      Eyes stinging and throat hurting, she remembered sitting in the same spot over a decade earlier, only at least she’d had her father’s hand to hold. Now she sat alone.

      Though the day was sunny, a brisk, cold wind whipped the open tent sheltering the mourners. Tuning out the pastor’s words, her mind’s eye saw her father speaking what she now knew had been his last words.

      I lied. Your son’s alive. I took him.

      She didn’t want her thoughts to go there. Instead, she wanted to remember happy times. The two of them traveling to Europe together. Sharing morning tea in the solarium. She refused to think of him shrunken and sallow in his final days. He was the most powerful man she’d ever known and she’d been so proud to be his daughter. But now…

      I lied.

      Now a seed of doubt had been planted as to whether or not her father’s motives had been pure.

      Above all in life, evident by a funeral larger than any the town had ever seen, Hal Barnesworth valued his standing in the community. His reputation and pride. Had she returned home with a baby, his efforts to spirit her away to deliver her son far from his beloved town would’ve been for naught. Everyone would’ve known what an awful parent he’d been. After all, who didn’t keep close enough watch on their teenage daughter and allowed her to end up pregnant?

      He’d been ashamed of her and her actions and hid her away as surely as he would’ve a poor business decision.

      Horrified by the emerging picture of who her father really was, she brought trembling hands to her mouth. When it came to his negative opinion of Hal, Garrett had been right. Was he here? Watching her? Thinking her a fool?

      A gust of wind toppled the portrait of her father that he’d wanted displayed on a stand beside his casket. Though the funeral director leaped to action, promptly setting it back in place, Eve found the incident apropos. A symbol of how her mighty father had fallen—at least in her eyes.

      Garrett, are you out there? Somewhere in the crowd?

      Did she want him to be?

      Thankfully, the service soon ended and Eve went through the motions of placing a white rose the pastor handed her atop her father’s casket, then thanking the crush of well-wishers for coming.

      A Palm Beach caterer was setting up an invitation-only reception at the house, but all she wanted was to escape.

      Voice hoarse from the sheer number of people she’d spoken with, she was unprepared when a stocky man approached, flashing her a Miami Herald press badge. “Eve Barnesworth?”

      “Y-yes.”

      “I wonder if you might confirm a story I’ve got a lead on.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “My source says your father employed a number of illegal immigrants, but bribed local officials to look the other way. Care to comment?”

      Knees rubbery, Eve searched for something to steady her, but found only air. How could this day get worse? How insensitive was he to bring up such a hot-button topic here?

      “Ma’am, a quote from you on this matter would be ideal, but this is going to make headline news regardless. Your father was a very well-known man.”

      “Please,” she managed to whisper, world spinning. Unable to remember the last time she’d eaten, Eve struggled to stay on her feet. “Just go. I have nothing to say.”

      “Sure you do. Now that you’re in charge of all Barnesworth holdings, you really gonna let Daddy get away with something like this when he repeatedly touted how his products help support the good ol’ U.S.A.?”

      “Please, would you—”

      “Back off,” Garrett said, suddenly at her side. She leaned into him, beyond grateful for his strength when she had none.

      “And if I choose not to?” the guy taunted.

      Garrett made his decision for him—flattening him with one punch.

      Chapter Three

      “Do you have any idea how bad this makes our whole team look?”

      Garrett winced, lowering his cell when his commanding officer, Mark Hewitt, grew so loud Garrett heard him just fine with the phone being nowhere near his ear.

      “AP picked up the story—SEAL Slams Reporter at Funeral. It’s everywhere.”

      “Sorry, but the guy had it coming.” Whether his actions had been proper or not, Garrett figured the guy was lucky he’d gotten off with only one punch. Poor Eve had been a trembling, crying mess that Garrett had taken her straight home to his house—not hers. Hal’s lawyer and Juanita were handling the reception. Dina had ordered Eve to the sofa, where she now slept.

      “Agreed, but you know better.”

      “Sorry,” Garrett repeated, hoping with enough contrition this would all go away. “What do you want me to do?”

      Sighing, his CO said, “You’re already on holiday leave for a few more days. Make it a few more weeks till this all dies down.”

      “You got it.” Nice. Especially considering Garrett needed time to search for his son.

      After five more minutes of hearing Mark lecture, Garrett finally was granted permission to end the call.

      He found his mom out back, weeding. “Aren’t you cold?”

      “Nah.” Kneeling in front of a baby banana palm, she rocked back on her heels. The wind had died down, though it was still chilly. When they’d moved to this house, he’d been midway through high school and had resented leaving the home where he’d grown up. Not only were there mature flower and vegetable gardens, but he and his dad had built a tree fort in their old yard that the kids living there today still enjoyed. Judging by how great this place now looked, his mom had put in a lot of gardening time. Back then, she’d told him the new yard would one day be beautiful, and as usual, she’d been right. “After all the rain we’ve had, feels good getting out of the house. How’s Eve?”

      “Sleeping. You think I was wrong for letting the reporter have it?”

      “Honey…” She took a few beats to answer. “You know I’m not big on violence, but in this case…”

      “My thoughts exactly.” He sat on the wood bench his father’s firehouse crew had presented them with. His dad used to spend hours out here. His family and his garden were the only things he’d put above his job. What would his pop have thought about all this? Telling his folks he’d gotten Eve pregnant had been one of the hardest things Garrett had ever had to do. They hadn’t been overjoyed, but made it clear they’d stand by him no matter what. Given the chance, would he be that good of a dad?

      “Say we find our son,” Garrett said to Dina. “What then? I’m assuming he was adopted. If he’s living in a good home, I can’t see ripping him away from all he’s ever known. But on the flip side, if we find he’s not in an idyllic situation, then what?”

      “Pace yourself, hon. Let’s tackle one problem at a time.”

      * * *

      EVE WOKE NOT sure where she was. Then she spotted Garrett lightly snoring in a recliner. A huge cat sprawled across his lap, purring so loud Eve heard him from across the room. Fat Albert was still alive? They’d found the