Six Minutes to Midnight

by Elle James

  “Yes, that’s me.” She frowned. “But who are you?”

  He sat up straight in the chair beside her bed and pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m T-Mac. Don’t you remember me?”

  Her frown deepened, making her head hurt. “If I remembered, would I be asking?”

  He chuckled. “You still have your bite. We met yesterday, near your quarters.”

  “Quarters?” She looked around. “These aren’t my quarters.”

  His brows pinched together again. “No. You’re in the Djibouti medical facility.”

  “Why am I here?” she asked.

  “You were injured in a skirmish in Somalia.”

  “Skirmish?” she asked, feeling like she was missing a chunk of her memory. And it was scaring her. “What day is it?”

  He told her the date. “You were shot and involved in an explosion.”

  She gasped, her heartbeat fluttering uncontrollably. “What was I doing in Somalia?” The green line on the monitor jumped erratically.

  The auburn-haired man pushed to his feet. “Let me get the doctor.”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “I’m okay,” she repeated, as if to remind herself. “I just can’t remember any of that.”

  He didn’t listen, leaving the room in a hurry.

  Kinsley lifted her head. A sharp pain slashed through her forehead. She lay back, closed her eyes and let it abate before she opened her eyes again.

  By then T-Mac had returned with a man in a white coat. He introduced himself as her doctor. She couldn’t commit his name to her memory with the pain throbbing in her head.

  He shone a light into her eyes. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

  She tried to shake her head, remembering too late that it caused pain. Kinsley winced. “No.” Her heart beat fast and her hands shook as she pressed her fingertips to her temple. “I can’t remember what day it is.”

  “Do you know who the president of the United States is?” the doctor asked.

  She thought, but couldn’t come up with a name. “No.”

  “What about where you were born?” he persisted.

  The more she tried to remember, the worse her head hurt. “I can’t remember.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye to run down her cheek.

  The doctor patted her hand. “Don’t be too alarmed. You had a concussion. Temporary memory loss can be a side effect.”

  “Will it come back?” Kinsley asked. “Will I remember where I’m from and who the president is?”

  He smiled down at her. “You should. Give yourself time to recover. We’re trying to get a transport to send you back to a higher-level medical-care facility, but we can’t seem to find a C-130 we can tap into for the next couple days. You might be stuck with us.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, and pushed up on her elbows. “I need to get back to work.” She shook her head. “If only I could remember what work I do.”

  The doctor touched her shoulder. “Don’t strain your brain. The memories will return, given time.”

  She lay back on the bed, her gaze following the doctor as he left her room. Kinsley wanted to call him back, to make him give her some pill or potion to force her memories to return. Not knowing things was confusing and frightening.

  Her gaze shifted to T-Mac. “Why are you here?”

  He smiled. “I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.”

  “I’m okay. You don’t have to be here. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

  “Do you mind if I stay? I’m not on duty or anything. After being here all night, I feel invested in your well-being.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m probably going to go back to sleep. Maybe when I wake up again, I’ll remember what I’ve forgotten.” She laughed, the sound catching on a sob. “I don’t even know what I’ve forgotten.”

  He lifted her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I’d fill you in, but I barely know you.”

  “Then you’re no help.” She closed her eyes but didn’t try to pull her hand free. Holding on to T-Mac was the lifeline she needed at that moment. If that made her weak...so be it. Until she got her memories back, she felt as though she’d been set adrift on an ocean, far from shore.

  “What exactly happened?” she asked.

  His eyes narrowed as if he were assessing her.

  She waved her free hand. “I’m a soldier. Don’t pull your punches. Give it to me.” Then her eyes widened and a smile lifted her lips. “I’m a soldier.”

  T-Mac smiled. “See? Your memory’s already coming back.” He nodded. “We entered a village with the intention of getting there ahead of people coming to make a weapons handoff. We ran into resistance. You were shot in the chest. The team was overwhelmed by incoming grenades and mortars, and we backed out to regroup. Fortunately, you were wearing body armor, or the outcome could have been very different.”

  “That’s it?” She studied T-Mac. He wasn’t telling her everything. “What else?”

  “Agar was injured.”

  That name. She should know that name. She didn’t want to say it, but she couldn’t remember who Agar was.

  T-Mac’s gaze pinned hers, his lips pressing together for a moment. “Your dog.”

  As if a floodgate had been unleashed, images and memories poured over Kinsley, all revolving around Agar, his training, her training as a dog handler and the heat of summer in San Antonio, Texas. She tried to breathe, but her lungs were constricted, the air refusing to enter or leave. “Agar,” she mouthed. Her hand squeezed his tightly.

  “He’s with the veterinarian. I haven’t been there yet to check his status.”

  Kinsley pushed to a sitting position. Her head spun and pain knifed through her temple. “Have to see him.”

  T-Mac pressed a hand to her shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere until the doc clears you to move.”

  “I’m going.” She shoved his hand away and swung her legs over the side of the bed. That’s when she noticed she was only wearing a hospital gown and not much else. “Where are my clothes?”

  “They cut away the trousers and shirt to get to your shrapnel wounds.”

  “Great. I don’t suppose I can walk across the camp in this gown?” She glanced down at the flimsy hospital dress and back up at T-Mac.

  “I’ll bring a change of clothes for you.”

  “Thanks.” Her brows rose.

  “Oh, you mean now?” He grinned. “I should say, I’ll get your clothing when the doctor releases you to go back to your quarters.”

  “I’m leaving.” She scooted her bottom to the edge of the mattress. “With or without clothes.”

  “Specialist Anderson, you haven’t been released from my care.” The doctor chose that moment to return to her room. “Until that time, you’re under my command. You leave, and I’ll have to report you as AWOL.”

  Kinsley frowned. “I need to see my dog.”

  “You can see your dog when I release you. I want to keep you one more night. If everything looks good in the morning, I’ll sign your release orders.” The doctor shone his penlight into her eyes, listened to her heartbeat and then left her alone again with T-Mac.

  “I’ll check on Agar and let you know how he’s doing,” T-Mac said.

  Kinsley wanted to see for herself, but she couldn’t risk her career by disobeying orders. “Okay. But could you go now?”

  T-Mac chuckled, the rich tone warming her in the air-conditioned room. “Going.” He performed an about-face and marched to the door, where he turned back. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “You might want to shower before you return.” She wrinkled her nose. “You smell.”

  He leaned close and inhaled. “You’re no bed of roses either, Specialist.” He moved out of range of her swinging arm and winked.

&nbs
p; She watched him leave in his torn pants and dirty uniform jacket. Even with dried blood smeared across his leg, he was handsome.

  Kinsley crossed her arms over her chest, every nerve in her body urging her to jump out of bed and race after him, to go to the vet’s office. Agar had to be okay. He was more than just a working dog to her. He was her only friend.

  The image of T-Mac’s head lying on the bed beside her returned. He’d been by her side throughout the night when he didn’t have to be. Why had he stayed for a relative stranger?

  Now that T-Mac was gone, Kinsley felt alone and overwhelmed. At least she had part of her memory back.

  Agar. She could remember every detail of her dog and the training they’d gone through to make him the best explosives-sniffing dog he could be.

  But no amount of training made either one of them bulletproof.

  Kinsley prayed Agar would be okay. And she hoped T-Mac would hurry back. Not only for news on her dog, but because she already missed holding his hand.

  Chapter Four

  T-Mac hurried to his quarters and grabbed a clean uniform and his shaving kit. After a quick trip to the shower unit, he felt almost human. His leg stung where his stitches were, but he’d get over it soon enough. The injury wouldn’t keep him from a mission, and it sure as hell wouldn’t keep him from checking on Kinsley.

  On his way back to the medical facility, he swung through the chow hall and snagged a couple of sandwiches and pieces of lemon pound cake. He had them wrapped in cellophane and tucked them in the large pockets of his jacket.

  Next stop was the camp veterinarian. When he entered, he found Harm talking to the vet with Agar sitting at his feet.

  “It’s the darnedest thing,” the vet was saying. “One minute he was unconscious, the next he was up and moving around as if nothing had happened. I watched him through the night, but he seems to have suffered no lasting damage from the explosion.” The vet handed over the lead to Harm. “He’s been fed and has had plenty of water for now. You might test his abilities before he returns to duty. And he could use some exercise. He’s been cooped up in a crate until now.”

  “Will do,” Harm said, and handed the lead to T-Mac. “I’m sure your dog handler would like to see her dog.”

  T-Mac grinned. “I’m sure she would.” He reached down to scratch Agar behind the ears. “I’ll take him out for a run first.” He nodded toward the vet. “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. He’s a well-behaved animal.”

  He had to be. Military Working Dogs were selected based on physical ability, temperament and intelligence. Agar had all that going for him, plus a rigorous training program of which Specialist Anderson had been a major part.

  T-Mac and Agar followed Harm out of the veterinarian’s building.

  Harm stopped and faced T-Mac. “How’s your dog handler?”

  T-Mac smiled. “She’s awake and talking.” His smile faded.

  Harm’s brow creased. “But?”

  “She’s suffering some temporary amnesia.”

  “Not good.”

  “No kidding. The doctor thinks she’ll get most of her memory back.”

  “Do you think she saw the man who shot her?”

  He shrugged. “It was dark. Even if she did see him, there’s no guarantee she’ll remember.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “It’s too bad he got away.” T-Mac clenched his fists. That man had fired with all intentions of killing Kinsley. She would be dead had her body armor not protected her.

  “The CO wants to see you when you get a chance.” Harm held up his hand. “He was satisfied with what we told him, so he said no hurry.”

  “Good.” He wanted to get back to Kinsley as soon as he exercised Agar. “I’ll stop by later, after she goes to sleep.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  “Did he say anything about the mission?”

  “He was hot.” Harm bent to smooth his hand over Agar’s head and then glanced up at T-Mac. “Someone around here tipped off our quarry. They were ready for us.”

  “The only people who knew where we were going were our team and the helicopter pilots.”

  “The commander has the intel folks interviewing the crews and maintenance people,” Harm said. “I’ll let you know if they learn anything.”

  “Thanks.” T-Mac glanced toward the containerized living units. “Big Jake doing okay?”

  “He’s sore, but he’ll live. The commander wanted him to sit out the next mission, but Big Jake laughed and told him he might as well go. Sitting wasn’t an option.”

  T-Mac chuckled.

  “What about you?” Harm pointed to his leg.

  “Just a flesh wound. I’m in if they go after the people who did this to us.”

  “We’re all in. You think your dog handler will join us?”

  “God, I hope not.” He hated to think of Kinsley back in the line of fire. She might not be so lucky next time. “The doc said they’re trying to get a transport to carry her to the next level of care. But now that she’s awake and coherent, they might change their minds.”

  “Awake and coherent is a good sign,” Harm said. “I can see you’re anxious to get back to her. Don’t let me hold you up.”

  “Thanks for checking on Agar.” T-Mac left Harm and half walked, half jogged around the camp, giving Agar the exercise he needed. From what he could tell, the dog had completely recovered. At one point, while they were passing the motor pool, Agar growled low in his chest.

  With a quick glance around, T-Mac couldn’t identify what set off the dog. He’d seen Agar’s behavior when he found explosives. He hadn’t growled, just lain down beside the find. The only other time he’d seen the dog growl had been before he’d gone into the building with the rebel who’d shot Kinsley.

  After he’d walked Agar for fifteen minutes, he headed for the medical facility and strolled through the door as if he owned the place. Bravado might get him past the guy manning the front desk.

  “Excuse me,” a voice called out behind T-Mac.

  He slowed, pulling Agar up on a short leash. “Yes?”

  “I’m pretty sure animals aren’t allowed in the facility.” The young man stood.

  “This isn’t just an animal. This is Sergeant Agar. He outranks you. You might show him a little more respect.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” The young man’s brow twisted.

  “Sergeant Agar is on his way to see his handler, Specialist Anderson.”

  “Oh.” The young man sat back in his seat, a worried frown still pulling at his brow. “I guess that’s okay, then.”

  “Right.” T-Mac marched past him to the room where he’d left Kinsley. When he entered, he did a double take. The bed was empty. He walked back out and went to the next room only to turn around and come back.

  Agar tugged at his lead.

  T-Mac released him and he ran for the door to the adjoining bathroom and sniffed at the gap beneath.

  The door opened and Kinsley stepped out, holding the back of her gown together behind her. When she saw Agar, she let go and dropped to her knees to hug the German shepherd.

  He nuzzled her, licked her face and wagged his tail.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” she whispered, tears running down her face. She ran her hands over his body and legs. “Did you get hurt?” She checked him over thoroughly, blinking back her tears. When she was done, she looked up at T-Mac. “Thank you for bringing him.”

  T-Mac smiled. “I think he missed you.”

  “Even if he didn’t, I missed him.” She hugged the dog’s neck.

  A twinge of envy rippled through T-Mac. He found himself wishing he was the dog, being lavished with all the attention and hugs. But the smile on Kinsley’s face made T-Mac’s day brighter. “Now that you have Agar, I suppose you don’t need me anymore.”r />
  Her eyes widened and she straightened. “You can stay, if you like. Though it’s horribly boring being stuck in bed all day. I don’t know why the doctor doesn’t let me go. I feel fine. And Agar needs to be exercised. I have to know, the next time we’re out, that he’ll be able to sniff out explosives.”

  “I walked him before we came into the facility. And tomorrow should be soon enough to test his skills,” T-Mac assured her. “In the meantime, do you want me to take him back to my quarters?”

  Her eyes widened and her hold on Agar tightened. “He sleeps in my room, with me.”

  He leaned close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I bet if Agar’s really quiet no one will notice if he stays.”

  Kinsley pushed to her feet and walked to the bed.

  Agar followed, his body pressed against her legs.

  Kinsley slipped beneath the sheets and lay back.

  Agar paced around the bed, lifting his nose to sniff at Kinsley. Then he leaped up onto the foot of the bed.

  Kinsley laughed and moved over.

  Agar stretched out beside her and rested his snout on her arm.

  The image of the two of them lying against the white sheets made T-Mac’s heart swell. For a fleeting moment, he wished he was Agar, and that he’d put that happy smile on Kinsley’s face.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “I guess I can stay another night as long as Agar’s with me.”

  T-Mac cleared his throat. “Since you don’t need me, I’ll go.”

  Kinsley’s eyes flew open. “Do you have to?”

  He shrugged. “No. My buddies are covering for me with my commander.”

  She held out her hand. “I think they gave me a sedative. Could you stay until I go to sleep?” Her lips twisted. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  He chuckled. “Playing second fiddle to a dog isn’t quite a compliment, but I’ll take it.”

  T-Mac pulled the chair close and gathered her hand in his, reveling at how small it was in his, yet how strong and supple her fingers were.

  Agar leaned his long snout over Kinsley’s body, sniffed T-Mac’s hand once and then laid his head back on Kinsley’s other side, seemingly satisfied T-Mac wouldn’t harm the dog handler.