Expired Hero

by Lisa Phillips

  “Okay.” Why was that relevant? Maybe he was telling her so she didn’t freak out at the sight of it as it kept coming. And coming.

  She refused to think about blood on her hands. Conroy. Her parents, lying lifeless in the street. She wasn’t going to freak out. Nothing would be solved by it.

  Like when Trina had been yelling at her. Waving a gun around. What would it have benefited her to scream about all the lies Trina had told her? To complain, as loudly as possible, that Trina had betrayed her. Kaylee had fallen for it. But the satisfaction she’d have felt making a ruckus would’ve been hollow.

  So, she’d kept her mouth shut. Done what her brother had instructed her to do, what her favorite fictional spy would do. Even Stuart had seemed to agree—he’d even squeezed her hand in solidarity.

  Now he just needed to wake up.

  A sob worked its way to her throat. She swallowed it down. No. I’m not going to dissolve.

  Instead, she told Donaldson everything. She’d have to tell him all over again so he could write it all down, but she needed to say it. To have him react like that—eyes flaring and his face turning red—it gave away the fact she was holding something important for her brother. But she no longer cared.

  These people were her friends. Her family. They would give their lives for her, as Conroy had almost done.

  That was what a good life was about. And she would never again take any of them for granted.

  Stuart moaned.

  “It’s okay. Trina’s gone, and Silas is cuffed. We’re safe now.” He had saved her. That was the truth.

  In a time where she should have, by all rights, dissolved into a mess of traumatized emotions, losing the ability to think straight, she hadn’t. She’d kept her cool. Stood her ground.

  Kayla didn’t think she would ever get over the fear. Maybe that wasn’t the goal. Just as avoiding all possible situations where she might feel fear probably wasn’t the healthiest way to move on with her life. She would never be “cured” of her trauma. Despite trying to ignore it, or deal with it, the memories would forever be there.

  Now she had new ones.

  Maybe life was just about finding good in the bad. Moments of peace and joy. Where she felt safe, despite what was happening.

  Because Stuart was with her. A man who cared enough he didn’t want her to be scared. Who didn’t let her get kidnapped alone. Who thought she was beautiful.

  “Stuart.” She needed to look into his eyes and see those things for herself. To see all the feelings she had for him reflected in his gaze.

  She gave his shoulder another gentle shake.

  He moved before she realized what was happening, so fast she couldn’t even track his movements. His hand slammed against her throat and his fingers wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air.

  “Stuart,” Donaldson yelled his name like an order. “Let her go, man.”

  Kaylee couldn’t speak.

  He opened his eyes just as hers bugged out. Only paranoia and fear were there, not everything she’d been expecting just moments before. That he knew her. That he felt safe.

  She patted his arm and squeezed it, willing him to realize where he was. That he was hurting her.

  Inhaling through her nose didn’t work. Spots exploded around his head, obscuring her vision. She was starting to pass out.

  Donaldson grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away from him. “Stuart, let her go!”

  In one last ditch effort, she shoved at his chest.

  He let her go. She fell toward Donaldson, coughing and gasping for air. Her throat felt like the worst infection-like swelling she’d ever experienced.

  She looked at him. He had both hands over his face. When he pulled them away, he looked grief stricken.

  “Stuart.” She couldn’t get his name out without coughing, and it was barely audible.

  Donaldson tugged on her arm. “Let’s go.”

  Across the car, Officer Allen pulled out Silas Nigelson. He’d been shot during the past few months, in a raid by gunmen on the police station. Now he was back to full duty.

  The bank manager had a very red nose, but it wasn’t bleeding. Donaldson walked her to the back of the car while Dean passed them, heading for Stuart.

  “He’s disoriented. He hit his head.”

  Dean glanced at her and nodded, then got in the car.

  “He didn’t mean it.”

  Donaldson tugged her away. “Come on. Let’s give them some room.”

  “He wasn’t trying to hurt me. He thought I was a threat.” For some reason, she continued, “It’s what people with trauma do. They get flashbacks. Especially in intense situations, and when they get hurt.”

  “I know what happened to you,” Donaldson admitted. “What you saw…with your parents.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. But you know that means I understand Stuart. More than a lot of people might.”

  “Doesn’t mean he gets to hurt you.”

  “He couldn’t help it.”

  Yes, she was defending him. “He didn’t mean it,” wasn’t a good defense. There wasn’t much that would excuse what he’d done, nearly choking her. He could have killed her. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t offer understanding and forgiveness. Wasn’t that what the pastor was always talking about?

  This wasn’t an offense. But the principle still stood.

  Donaldson said, “Did you forgive the man who murdered your parents?”

  “He’s dead.”

  She’d figured that settled the matter, given the eye-for-an-eye policy. Justice had been served. It didn’t heal the devastation caused. Maybe it made Brad feel better. Kaylee just tried to move on.

  Now she had just discovered that she could withstand a whole lot more fear than she could imagine. “Trina pointed a gun at me.”

  “You told me that.” He was a younger man, and he’d been there with both Conroy and Mia the day they faced down the man intent on destroying their lives. Seemed like Donaldson was having a hard time with all this—probably the fact his chief was in the hospital, fighting for his life. He was now falling back on the fact he was one of the good guys. The “bad guys” were those who didn’t fight on his side. And he didn’t count Stuart as one of the good guys.

  She took a moment and prayed he would find peace soon.

  Kaylee said, “I looked Trina in the eyes, and she told me she would make sure that Stuart never walked again. And not once did I freak out. I just stared her down and kept my cool.”

  “Good for you.”

  “You don’t get it,” Kaylee said. “This is huge. I never thought I’d be able to handle something like that. And I stood my ground.” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched her lips wide.

  “I’m glad you’re super happy you got kidnapped.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m glad you guys intervened. Who knows what might’ve happened if you all didn’t show up.” She lifted on the balls of her feet and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “I appreciate you, Donaldson.”

  He blushed.

  “Where’s Basuto?”

  “Right here.” The sergeant jogged over.

  Dean backed out of the car, and Stuart climbed out after him. Neither looked happy. In fact, it kind of looked as if they’d been arguing in the car.

  She said, “Everything okay?”

  Neither said anything. Basuto was the first to speak. “Trina is in the wind. She’s fast, and our guys lost her.”

  Kaylee’s stomach flipped over. She was gone? That meant she was out there, maybe even watching.

  She spun around.

  Silas struggled against Officer Allen. “It was all Trina! She’s crazy, and she dragged me into this for some payday. I didn’t know what was happening!”

  “He’s lying.”

  She spun to see Stuart’s attention was on Basuto. The sergeant nodded. “Nigelson isn’t getting out from under this until she’s brought in and everything is squared away.”

  Stuart nodde
d.

  “But we also have a separate problem.” Basuto’s shoulders were tense. Kaylee’s shoulders followed suit and a chill ran through her. With Silas in handcuffs, she’d thought their only problem was Trina, but there was more? “We got word there’s a tactical team inbound from the State Department. They want to talk to you—” He pointed at Stuart, then glanced at her. “—and they want whatever you have. Apparently, it’s national security.”

  Stuart took a step back.

  Dean glanced at him. “I’ll call our team. See if they can get in the middle, stir up some distractions.”

  Stuart nodded.

  “Seems like the two of you have solid targets on you,” Basuto said. “Might want to lay low somewhere under the radar. Get whatever you have and go to ground until we figure out what all this is about.”

  Kaylee had been so relieved at how well she’d done facing down Trina, she wasn’t prepared to be blindsided by this new development. “We need to run?”

  She’d thought her life was safe. Now it was certain it very much was not.

  Stuart said, “I know a place we can go, but I need to do something first.” He glanced at Dean. “Can you help me?”

  The former SEAL said, “You wanna try one more time?”

  Stuart nodded.

  “I’ll call Ellie. She can help me get set up. Ted, too.”

  “Don’t bother Ted. He needs to be at the police station,” Basuto said. “He has plenty to do, and he’s been worked up about finding your father.”

  Dean frowned but said nothing.

  Stuart turned to her. “I know you didn’t want to tell Trina where the flash drive is, and that was the right thing to do.” He nodded. “You did good.”

  “Thanks.” Why did she feel like this was leading up to something?

  “Now I need you to tell me where it is so we can go get it. The thing needs to be kept safe and secure.”

  Kaylee had been doing that this whole time. Obviously she had, or someone would have found it by now. “The note said not to give it to anyone who doesn’t know the password.” Before he could argue, which he was gearing up to do, she continued, “Brad said it’s my job to keep it safe. So, if you don’t have the password, then I can’t give it to you.”

  Instead of arguing that point, he turned to Dean. “You’re up.”

  The former SEAL nodded. “Let’s get you your memory back.”

  Seventeen

  “Can you stay here please?”

  He wanted to do this quickly, but Kaylee was making it difficult. She hadn’t stopped wandering around in circles, staring at everything around her, since he brought her through the front door of his house. She also didn’t seem to care that he’d all but strangled her. The way she could endure hardship, and then brush herself off and keep going, was something that continued to astound him the longer he knew her.

  “This place is huge.”

  Stuart said, “Kitchen is over there. The bathroom is down the hall. I’ll alarm the system, so you don’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on you.” The team was here, but he didn’t know what they were doing.

  He glanced back at Dean. “Where are the boys?”

  Dean looked up from his phone. “On a run. The shortcut gets them back in an hour, and they’re good to help with whatever you need.”

  “An hour?” Kaylee gaped.

  Stuart said, “Dean and I will be downstairs. If a bunch of sweaty guys suddenly walk in, it’s all good. We know them.”

  She nodded. “They live here with you guys. I’ve seen them around town, so it’s fine. I’ll be fine. You don’t…need any help?”

  He shook his head. “We’re good.”

  There was no way he wanted her walking in on one of his therapy sessions. Not when that meant recreating as much of the experience as possible—including the fear and pain. But he needed to do this now. He needed to remember.

  Stuart touched her shoulders. “You’re safe here.”

  She gifted him with a small smile. “It’s been an insane couple of days. I’d love to just sit somewhere quiet and have a few minutes of peace.”

  “Whatever you want in the kitchen, just help yourself. Okay?”

  “Thank you.”

  Stuart couldn’t resist. He leaned close and touched his lips to her forehead. He squeezed her shoulders, then headed for the hallway, figuring he’d likely never get the chance to be that close to her again. Doing this might get him the result he wanted through resurfaced memories, but the damage to his psyche could be irreparable. And that was really saying something, since even he could admit he was already damaged.

  Kaylee seemed to have completely forgiven him for squeezing the breath out of her and putting those bruises on her neck, but he would do it again. That was inevitable. He could never completely trust himself not to hurt her. His damage, coupled with her vulnerabilities, made for a stormy combination that meant he had to keep his distance.

  “Wanna tell me about that?”

  Stuart’s head pounded, and not just from the bump he’d received when the car stopped. “Doesn’t matter. Doing so won’t make it all go away, so what’s the point?”

  “Says who?”

  Stuart descended the basement stairs. Other people’s opinions were the least relevant thing in his life. He would never have chosen to come here if he actually cared what people thought. He’d be living in a shack on the beach in Thailand, spending next to nothing and speaking to no one. It would be the best way to experience beauty he’d never found anywhere else and the only way to know he wouldn’t ever hurt anyone else again because of his trauma.

  Instead, out of his mind, he’d assumed Kaylee was a threat and had put her in danger. A good woman who didn’t deserve that.

  He stopped at the door. “Let’s just do this. Remembering the code word makes Kaylee safe. I finish this, and we can all move on with our lives.”

  “Why does that not sound like a good thing?”

  Stuart lifted his chin. “Doesn’t matter what it sounds like. Kaylee will get her life back, and I’ll be far enough away that I won’t hurt her.”

  Dean said, “You don’t think it might be possible you could have a relationship with her and not hurt her?”

  “I already did hurt her. You saw the bruises on her neck.” He shoved the door open, tugged his shirt off, and tossed it back into the hallway. “Let’s just do this.”

  Dean used his phone to alter the temperature, making it far warmer than the rest of the house. Stuart laid on the floor against the wall for twenty minutes while sweat beaded on his body. Then a crackle sounded through speakers mounted high on the walls. Yelling in a language he spoke, but not fluently. He could recite the words at this point. Music played, as though the neighbors had cranked their favorite retro Afghani tunes, determined to serenade the whole neighborhood.

  Stuart closed his eyes and let his mind go back there. He didn’t want Dean to have to use pharmaceuticals to alter his mental state. He even prayed that he’d be able to do this by himself. Kaylee deserved answers. She deserved to be safe.

  After all, that was why he’d done the work he had. For years. Fighting the world’s tide of evil for the innocent people who didn’t even know it existed. Or maybe it was all a façade and they were happier pretending to not notice what was right in front of them. And then there were people like Kaylee who knew what it meant to be a victim and yet still carried on.

  His mind continually wanted to suck him back to that place, so there wasn’t much effort required to remember the parts he could. Pain. Terror.

  His heart rate kicked up. Dean recorded all his vitals through sensors Ted had placed around the room.

  They knew we were coming.

  “I know,” Stuart had said. Across the room, his friend had been steadily bleeding from a wound on his leg where he’d been caught by a bullet. Just a graze.

  Neither of them had wanted to admit the depth of the situation they were in.

  Made worse by the on
e memory he would never forget.

  Do it. The kidnapper had screamed the accented words in his ear, spittle landing on Stuart’s cheek. Do it now.

  His breath came fast now, the world spinning. He tried to sit up and bile rose in his throat. Stuart coughed and gasped.

  Brad gasped. “Stu…don’t let them kill me. Promise me… Promise me you’ll do it before they do.”

  He stared at the wall. “I’m sorry.”

  Stuart squeezed his eyes shut and drifted.

  He gripped the knife, feeling his hand slide against the base of the blade. A sharp pain cut at his skin.

  Laughter echoed against the walls and filled his ears. “Do it. Hurt your friend.”

  One captor held Brad on his feet in front of Stuart, his friend’s eyes boring into him. Fear. Understanding. He mouthed, “Do it.”

  “No.” Stuart didn’t want to hurt his friend, no matter what Brad had made him promise. He wasn’t going to do it.

  The captor shoved his hand. The knife pressed against Brad’s stomach. His friend cried out, the sound tearing through Stuart like he was the one being cut.

  Laughter filled his ears, and he choked on a sob.

  They tossed him to the floor, still laughing. He rolled and saw Brad leaning against the wall, hands to his stomach. Blood on his fingers. On his shirt.

  Stuart screamed out his frustration.

  The captor produced another syringe. He jabbed it in Stuart’s upper arm and pressed the plunger down while Stuart tried to shove him away. Kick him. Anything. Something. He had to stop this.

  But it wouldn’t stop.

  It was never going to end.

  The two captors dragged Brad from the room. His friend screamed, legs sliding across the floor as they pulled him out into the hall.

  “Brad!”

  Time drifted. Hours turned to days as the sun tracked its way across the floor over and over again.

  Brad never returned. That meant he had to be dead, just as they’d said. Tormenting him with the fact that he’d killed his friend.

  And then a commotion. An explosion rocked the room. Plaster fell from the ceiling in waves of dust that coated him. Gunfire outside. Two sides, locked in a battle.

  Men ran down the hall, outside his room.