Special Forces Father by Mallory Kane

attorney to prepare his defense in his upcoming trial.”
    Travis rubbed his face. “You can put somebody on him if you want to, but I’m still going to talk to him.”
    “I thought you didn’t want anybody to know you’re here. If you piss off Stamps, it’s going to get around.”
    “It’ll probably get around anyhow, since the Chicago guytook my picture, and it’s a cinch he’s reporting to someone Stamps knows if not to Stamps himself.”
    “What’s the deal with hiding out from everybody? You haven’t even talked to your mom?”
    “No, and I’m not going to until I get all this sorted out.” Travis heard his voice. He sounded stubborn, almost petulant.
    Dawson assessed him for a moment. “So the only reason you checked yourselfout of Walter Reed and drove all the way down here was to see Kate Chalmet? Did you want her to help you find a therapist here in town?”
    “A therapist? What are you talking about?” Travis asked defensively.
    Dawson shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious, kid. You’re suffering from PTSD.”
    Travis laughed, but not with amusement. “No, I’m not,” he snapped, glaring at Dawson. “You think I needa shrink? I can assure you I don’t.”
    “Hey.” Dawson held his hands up. “I wasn’t making a judgment. Just asking. So why’d you go to see her? You said you didn’t know about the boy.”
    “That’s right,” Travis retorted. He grimaced, then unclenched his jaw. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m just a little on edge right now.” He sighed. “I went to see her because—” He stopped. He didn’t speak for severalmoments. To his relief, Dawson sat quietly.
    Finally Travis took a deep breath. He didn’t want to talk about himself, but he figured if Dawson was going to help him, he needed to know everything.
    “I wasn’t just on a long mission. I was captured,” he said finally. “It’s not important, got nothing to do with Kate and my—our—son. But the reason I drove straight to her house—” He stoppedagain.
    Dawson picked up the tiny plastic triangle that he’d twisted off his coffee lid. He twirled it in his fingers, watching it.
    “I was held captive for five months. It was beyond hell, and the only thing that kept me alive was thinking about the people I loved. My family—and Kate. Hell, Dawson. I don’t want to talk about all that. I’ll deal with it later. Now my priority is findingMax.”
    Dawson nodded and smiled. “Not a problem, Trav. I’ll get right on it. Is that everything?” he asked.
    “If you think it might help to tail Stamps, I’d like to know who all he sees and talks to.”
    “I’ll put somebody on it.”
    “Just bill me,” Travis said, and pushed back from the table.
    “Hang on a minute. What do you know about Myron Stamps?”
    “Me? Not a thing. Why?”
    Dawson shook his head. “I’ll fill you in so you’ll know what you’re dealing with. Myron Stamps is a long-time state senator. He’s probably only ten years younger than our granddad. You probably never heard him talk about the Good Ole Boys, did you?”
    Travis shook his head. “Good old boys as in racist and bigoted with a pre–Civil War mentality?”
    “Yeah, in general,” Dawson acceded,smiling. “But specifically, the Good Ole Boys are a group of elder senators and congressmen who are following in the footsteps of Con Delancey. And Con, of course, patterned his entire political career after Huey Long. In their heyday, Long in the 1930s and Con in the sixties and seventies, they each courted the rural folks by such programs as Long’s Share the Wealth and Con’s Work and Receive initiative while pushing more and more power into the governor’s hands and out of the legislature. Did you know Con ran for governor three times and lost? Grandmother was sure that he’d have been elected in 1990 if he hadn’t been killed.”
    “I’ve heard some of those stories about Granddad. Not about him running for governor, though. What’s all this got to do with