Fighting For Valor

by Patricia D. Eddy

  “I don’t see him anywhere,” I say after twenty minutes. “But keep the hood up. We’re going to my place, and after that, you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

  She nods, tears shining in her eyes. Whatever it is, she’s terrified, and I know in my heart, I can’t ever walk away from her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ripper

  It takes us almost an hour to reach my apartment. I don’t trust ride shares—not when there’s someone potentially after one or both of us—and though Ry would come get us, he’d also probably tear me a new one for being with Cara, and I’m not in the mood.

  “This is like a fortress,” she says after the door locks disengage.

  “Yeah. You spend six years with no privacy, you lock your shit up tight.”

  Cara flinches, huddling deeper into my sweatshirt, and I kick myself for not watching my fucking mouth.

  Charlie goes right to his bed and lies down with his head on his paws, staring at me expectantly. Great. I’m being judged by my dog now. Mouthing, “I know,” to him, I double-check the security system as she stands at the window.

  Keeping the overhead lights dim lets me see the city, even at night, and the privacy coating Ryker had a contractor install on the windows ensures no one can see in. “Cara, I’m sorry. It’s late, and—”

  “You’re inside. Stuck inside. Trapped. Because of me.” Turning away from the window, she swipes at her cheeks. “I can’t do that to you.”

  That one word rattles around in my brain. Trapped. I’m trapped. It’s dark, and I’m trapped. Get it together. Relax.

  “I—” my heart rate spikes, and I suck in a wheezing breath, “—brought you here. This isn’t your—”

  My jacket falls from my hand, and I can feel the scorpion’s legs skittering along my shoulder. The dread coiling in the pit of my stomach as I try to hold my breath. The searing agony as the stinger burrows into my muscle. My fingers skim one of the older, deeper scars on my upper arm, long healed, but still too vivid a memory.

  “Ripper?” Cara’s dark locks tickle my cheek, and I blink hard. I’m on the floor next to my bed with Charlie on one side of me, Cara on the other. “Breathe.”

  As she presses her hand to my chest, my throat tightens. Faruk’s voice echoes in my ears. Then Kahlid starts in. My vision tunnels until all I can see are Cara’s brown eyes. My ass throbs where I hit the ground, and I clamp my hand over hers. “Don’t. Let. Go,” I rasp.

  “I won’t.” Warm fingers curl around the back of my neck, and slowly, she eases herself around me. “Charlie. Come here,” she whispers, and the dog wriggles into my lap. “You’re safe. Wherever you think you are, you’re not. You’re in Seattle with me and Charlie. In a fortress of an apartment with a gorgeous view, and a huge bed, and—”

  Tangling my hand in her hair, I pull her closer and crush my lips to hers. She tastes like mint, and I’m only vaguely aware of Charlie scrambling off to his bed and Cara wrapping her legs around my waist. “Ripper,” she whispers when we come up for air, “it’s been so long…”

  Her hips grind against me, and more memories threaten. Being held down. Stripped. Laughter. I can’t do this. With a choked cry, I lift her off me, then stumble for the balcony door. The cool air hits my cheeks, and even though my dick feels like it’s going to explode behind my zipper, I know I’ll never have that—intimacy, sex, a relationship—again.

  After a few minutes, I’ve calmed down enough to face her, but I don’t go inside. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Cara. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  She squares her shoulders and marches over to the door, stopping just short of the threshold. “Why not? I like you, Ripper. No, I wasn’t looking for a relationship. And God knows I shouldn’t let myself have one. Because what you don’t know about me could kill you. But that—” she points back to the floor next to the bed, “—wasn’t either of us starting a ‘relationship.’ It was…two people needing one another.”

  Before I can protest, my phone rings, and I push past her to retrieve my jacket from the floor. “Ry? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Not a goddamned thing. This Parr’s a fucking ghost. Wren can’t find a single reference to him anywhere, and she’s been on the dark web for the past three hours. Trevor’s coming up blank on Jessup too.”

  “Shit.” Glancing over at Cara, who’s still standing at the balcony doors, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, I know what I have to do. But if I tell Ry about the man following us tonight, he’ll be over here in ten minutes, and Cara won’t ever forgive me. “Let me…” The words die in my throat, but I take a deep breath and try again. “Let me see what I can find.”

  Ryker doesn’t say anything for a minute, and when he finally does, there’s a mix of shock and pride in his voice. “Are you sure you’re ready, Rip?”

  “No. But it doesn’t matter if I am or not. This could burn all of us. And you and Dax…you’re my family.”

  “Hooah,” he says quietly. “Brothers. Till the end.”

  Cara

  I don’t want to intrude on Ripper’s phone call, especially when his face shutters, all emotion vanishing in a single blink after he asked someone named Ry what was going on. But balconies trigger me. Even standing at the door looking out over Lake Washington, I remember the terror of Jessup standing over me, telling me I never should have eavesdropped on a man like him.

  Still, the breeze helps mask his words, as does my pounding heart, which is almost the only thing I can hear.

  He’s full of contradictions. This place is gorgeous. Top of the line appliances, a view to kill for, and a king-sized bed, perfectly made. It’s the most secure building I’ve ever seen. But the studio is smaller than my place, and I thought my apartment was tiny. How could I think he was homeless? He’s far from it.

  “Cara?” he says from behind me, “what do you need to take your meds?”

  “Oh, God. I forgot. What time is it?” My phone’s in my bag, not far from the door, and after traipsing through the UW campus for half an hour, then making our way back here, my usual routines have all gone out the window, and I feel like my entire life has been turned on its head.

  “Almost one.”

  I’m two hours late. For most people, most meds, that wouldn’t matter. For me… I rush for my bag, pawing through it with shaking hands. I must look as horrified as I feel, because Ripper kneels next to me and rests his fingers on my arm. “My turn to tell you to breathe. What does your pill case look like?”

  “It’s purple.”

  He fishes it out in under five seconds and drops it into my hand before pointing at the bed. “Sit.”

  “I’m not Charlie, you know.” The dog raises his head and yips, and I stare into his brown eyes. “Sorry, pup.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re definitely not.” Ripper helps me to my feet and keeps his arm around my waist as he guides me to the bed. “What you are is exhausted. And we’re going to need to talk. About a lot of things. So you’re going to relax while I make you some tea.”

  He’s right. Now that we’re not on the run, my adrenaline’s crashing, hard, and I kick off my too-sensible shoes and curl around one of Ripper’s pillows. It smells like him, and with that, his sweatshirt zipped up to my neck, and Charlie’s soft fur under my fingers as I drape my arm off the side of the bed, I feel safe.

  A teapot whistles, and I force my eyes open. I’m so tired, and the world is soft and fuzzy as Ripper moves around the small kitchen. “Charlie?” I say quietly, and the dog sits up and nudges his whole head under my hand. Once I tell Ripper about my past, he’s going to hate me for putting him in danger like this, and I’ll have to leave. “I’m glad I got to meet you. Take care of him, okay?” He licks my fingers, and I skim them around the shell of his mangled ear. “Whoever did this to you was an asshole. You know that?”

  “Grade-A asshole,” Ripper confirms as he joins me on the bed and presses a cup of tea into my hand. “Take your meds.”


  I do, sipping the fruity tea slowly while Ripper strokes Charlie’s head. “I didn’t understand,” I say as Charlie looks up at Ripper with pure, complete adoration in his brown eyes. “When you said there was something about him you couldn’t ignore. I do now. He’s yours. Completely.”

  “Yeah. I think we’re a lot alike.” Ripper clears his throat, and his voice thickens. “About earlier. That kiss…”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I do.” He pushes to his feet and heads for the open balcony door. When he’s half in and half out, he rests his back against the jamb. “I spent six years in Afghanistan. Well, no. Longer than that. We were deployed for a couple of years before it all went to shit.”

  “We?”

  “My team. Ryker and Dax and me—we’re the only ones left.” Sinking down to the floor, he rests his elbows on his bent knees and drops his head into his hands. “Some wet-behind-the-ears comms operator didn’t encrypt his broadcast, and the Taliban knew exactly where we’d be and when. Shot us down, trapped us on a mountainside with no escape.” His voice cracks, and he tugs on his hair, as if he needs the pain.

  “They took five of us. Ry, Dax, Hab, Gose, and me. Our sixth, Naz…he died in the firefight. Gose died after a few days. He’d been shot twice, and our captors weren’t exactly concerned with good medical care.”

  Oh, God.

  My stomach twists into a knot, and I set the tea down, suddenly worried another sip will make me vomit. He’s going to tell me he was tortured.

  “Eventually, we landed in a place called Hell Mountain. They’d dug out a whole system of caves deep underground. There were half a dozen cells. A pit we called ‘the hole.’ It was a fucking maze, and they kept us blindfolded and tied up most of the time. Separated. Until they picked one of us to torture for the day. At first, they wanted intel. After a while, I think we were just punching bags.”

  He meets my gaze, and I can see it in his deep blue eyes. He’s not in Seattle with me. He’s back in Afghanistan. “Come here,” I say, holding out my hand. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

  As he stands, I think he’s heard me, but then he strips off his shirt, and my gasp makes him flinch. Scars run all along his torso. Some straight, others jagged, and still more are shiny ropes from burns. When he turns his back, tears spring to my eyes.

  He’s been whipped. Over and over again. The lines crisscross one another, and when his shoulders hunch, they stand out even more dramatically. “After Hell,” he says, his voice rough, “everything got so much worse.”

  Worse?

  I’m off balance as I shuffle towards him, my meds starting to take effect, and I almost crash into him, but right myself at the last minute and wrap my arms around him from behind. He holds on like I’m the only tether he has to sanity, and I rest my cheek against his shoulder blade.

  “I can’t…” he says finally with a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t do this. Not at night. In the dark. It’s too much.”

  After another minute, he turns, and I drop my arms. Dragging a knuckle along my jaw, he frowns. “You’re exhausted.”

  “Meds kicking in,” I say and rest my hand over his heart. A thick scar runs across his chest and peeks out from under my fingers.

  “Don’t. Not now.” Ripper jerks away, stalks over to the closet, and fishes two t-shirts and two pairs of shorts out of a drawer, then passes a set to me. “Use whatever you need of mine in the bathroom. Then, the bed’s yours.”

  “No.”

  He arches a brow like I’ve forgotten how to speak English. “What?”

  “I’m not sleeping in that bed without you. So if you don’t want me sleeping on the floor, you’ll get in.”

  I expect him to argue with me, but he doesn’t say a word as I slip into his bathroom and shut the door. When I emerge five minutes later, he’s under the weighted blanket, the candle I gave him flickering on the bedside table.

  My nipples tighten under the thin cotton t-shirt. He still has the balcony door open, and the crisp night air feels good on my skin.

  “I’m going to hold you. Okay?” I ask as I wriggle under the blanket.

  He nods, but the tension radiating off his body speaks volumes. It’s not okay. Not yet. “We’ll take it slow. Just like the other night. Did you get that sleep app I told you about?”

  Without a word, he grabs his phone and starts the meditative music. I rest a hand on his shoulder, and he stiffens, then after a deep breath, relaxes a fraction.

  I don’t know how long it takes him to get used to me next to him. An hour? I’m so tired, my eyes burn, but I don’t let myself sleep until he’s rolled onto his back, and I’m snuggled up to his side, my hand over his heart.

  “Cara?” he says, sleep edging into his tone. “How can you understand when no one else does?”

  “I don’t. But sometimes…comfort is universal.” Lifting my head from his pillow, I make sure his eyes are closed, then press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Sleep, Ripper. You’re safe here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ripper

  Soft hair tickles my neck, and I open my eyes. Out the window, a dull glow over the lake marks the transition from night to day. The candle burned out—hours ago, most likely—but it didn’t matter. Cara’s dark locks carry the scent of passion fruit and mango, and her deep, rhythmic breathing almost lulls me under again.

  Shifting slightly, I tuck my hand behind my head and stare out over the water. I slept. All night. Inside. And while I remember having a nightmare where Faruk’s men surrounded me, taunting me and beating me, I only woke for a moment. Long enough for Cara to mumble an exhausted reassurance and snuggle closer.

  She understands me. My brokenness. Last night, I wanted more. For one passionate kiss, I thought I could have it, too.

  “Ripper?” Cara shifts, and fuck. Her body feels so right against mine. “Are you okay?”

  Am I? Definitely not. There’s a beautiful, caring woman in my bed, and my hard on is straining against my shorts, but I’m not making a single move. “I owe you an explanation,” I manage. “About last night.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” She stretches, and the movement highlights her breasts, the tight nipples pebbling under my t-shirt. “I’m a big girl, Ripper. I can handle rejection.”

  “No. Fuck, no.” I brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t rejecting you.” Her brown eyes hold such confusion, and I blow out a breath. Once I tell her what happened to me, she’ll never look at me the same way again. “Six months after they sent us to Hell Mountain, I managed to get access to a computer. Dislocated my shoulder to get free, and I sent—or tried to send—a message to COMSAT to let them know we were alive. But one of Kahlid’s guys found me. Knocked me out, and I woke up somewhere much worse.”

  “What could be worse than a place they tortured you for six months?” Cara’s whisper holds so much emotion, and I guide her against my chest, needing to feel her solid weight, her soft curves, to keep myself grounded.

  “Amir Abdul Faruk.” Even saying his name sends me careening towards a panic attack, but Cara’s hand strokes up and down my arm, and I force myself to breathe. “I woke up at the bottom of a well. I don’t know how long I was down there. Days, maybe a week?

  “Over the next few months, he took everything from me. Even my name. Called me Isaad. I fought him. For so long. He told me my team was dead. That I’d killed them. Even that didn’t break me. Not completely. Not until…”

  Cara digs her fingers into my bicep, and I tighten my arm around her, dropping my voice to a whisper. “He told his men to do anything they wanted with me.”

  I don’t want to say the words. But I have to. Charlie jumps up onto the bed and lies down on my other side, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I could handle the torture. Broken bones. Starvation. The scorpions that would come out at night and sting me. I can still feel them crawling all over me.” A half sob escapes, my throat raw, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “But when they st
ripped me naked and held me down…”

  Finish it. Just tell her the rest.

  “They used me. And they laughed while they did it. Taking my name, my honor, that wasn’t enough. They had to take my soul too. Over and over and—”

  Cara presses her finger to my lips. “Stop, Ripper. Look at me.”

  I can’t. Shaking my head, I bury my face in her hair. “I wanted to die. Prayed for it. Begged. And I did. I couldn’t be myself anymore. Not after what they did to me. Ripper died, and Isaad? He did so many terrible things. For years. Until Ryker and Dax rescued me two months ago.”

  Unable to say another word, I wait for her to go. To give up on me. Instead, she shifts, and her lips brush mine. “You did what you had to do.” Another kiss, this one at the corner of my mouth. “You lived.” The other corner. “You found Ripper again.”

  Straddling me, Cara cups my cheeks and gently wipes away my tears. I still can’t face what I might see in her eyes. “I let him—”

  “You didn’t let him do a damn thing.” The harsh edge to her voice demands I listen, and I swallow hard before I meet her gaze. Amber streaks in her irises flare, and her mouth is set in a grim line. “I don’t know what you did as Isaad. And I don’t care if you tell me.” Her cheeks turn bright red. “That came out wrong. I mean…crap. Before my meds, it’s like my brain’s ten steps ahead of my mouth.” With a huff, she rocks back slightly, her hips pressing against my dick, and feelings I have no right to have stir to life.

  After she rubs the back of her neck, she returns her hands to my chest and tries again. “You did things. Things you’re ashamed of. Things Ripper would never do. But answer me this. Did Ripper do them?”

  “Ripper couldn’t stop Faruk’s men.” I can barely get the words out, but once they escape, it’s like a dam breaks, and I’m being swept away. Out to sea without a boat or an anchor or even a life preserver. I’m drowning, gasping for air, and alone.