Not that she felt like she could do much with the way her body ached, but if he needed help, she wanted to offer. She could at least try.
“Stay here. That’s all you need to do. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
When he closed the door, Libby grabbed a folded blanket and pulled it up to her chin. She didn’t like the hard knot in her belly, or the way dread tried to close around her throat and choke the breath from her.
Jared got the generator going, brought in more wood, and stoked the fire. Libby sat silent, staring at the flames as if transfixed.
He could tell she was worried. He didn’t know why, but he figured it was a gut deep thing she couldn’t control. Somewhere in her past, she’d been stranded and afraid. Or maybe it was as recent as last night when she’d been out in the snow alone and injured. He hadn’t completely ruled out an abusive boyfriend, even if she didn’t seem afraid of him whenever he was near. Just because his mother had always been nervous around men after his dad left didn’t mean another woman would react the same.
The lamps burned brightly and the darkness had been chased into the corners, but she seemed pensive. If he knew her better, he’d sit beside her and put his arm around her, offer some human warmth to chase away the chill inside. He knew how welcome that could be when everything seemed dark and frightening. But he didn’t know her, and he didn’t want to make a wrong move. She trusted him, but it was a tentative trust. If he made her afraid of him, it would make the next couple of days more difficult than they were already going to be.
Jared dragged a hand over his head. For a man who’d wanted peace and quiet, he was getting anything but. He was going to need a retreat from his retreat the way this was going. And yet there was something about Libby’s chatter that he missed when she wasn’t doing it.
“You okay?”
She turned her head. She had the blanket beneath her chin and she smiled weakly. “Fine. You?”
“Perfectly. But I’m not the one who looks worried about something.”
Her brow furrowed. “I think I don’t like how isolated we are. And that we have no power. When the lights were on, I could pretend everything was normal.”
“We have lights, heat, and food. It’ll be fine.”
“But what if the generator stops working? Or what if it runs out of gas? Then what?”
“Even without lights, we have a cord of firewood and a gas stove. We can stay warm and eat.”
She nibbled her lip. He watched, feeling oddly fascinated by the sight. There was a flicker of interest deep inside, no matter how much he might want to deny it. He didn’t know what it was about this woman, but he was drawn in by her gestures, her laughter, her chatter—and even her silence.
“I guess we’d have to be stranded for a month or so to really be in trouble, right?”
“At least. And we won’t be, Libby. Look at this like a snow day from work. It’s bad right now and the snow trucks can’t keep up, so it’s best to stay home. But in a day or two, the main arteries are clear and people are heading back to work and school. I’ve been in far worse situations, believe me.”
She looked interested. “Really? Like what?”
He leaned back in his chair and watched the flame. He’d been in worse situations, yes. But which ones could he actually tell her about without scaring the piss out of her?
“I had to go to Alaska for a mission once,” he began. “We were after a guy who’d done some bad things, and he was heading into the wilderness. He was a survivalist and he had a two day head start.”
“What kind of bad things?”
“Not important to the story.” And not something he could talk about either. National security shit to do with satellites and top secret facilities. “What is important is that there were two of us in pursuit, and on the fifth day, when we’d left the last supply station behind two days before that, our snowmobiles stopped running.”
“Both of them? At the same time?”
He nodded. “Yep. Rascal and I were in a bit of a bind. Our snowmobiles had been sabotaged, but it was so subtle as to not be apparent until they quit. Which they did in the middle of nowhere. We had a tent and enough food for two weeks, but no way out except on skis. And there was a blizzard coming.”
Her eyes were big. “What did you do?”
“We radioed for help, but we had to dig in and build a shelter. The wind was brutal, and the cold was biting. We huddled in that shelter for two days with no external heat and only MREs. We were both pretty worried we weren’t going to survive, but then it happened.”
She was holding her breath. “What?”
“The storm broke, the sun came out, and we survived. We found our survivalist. He drove his snowmobile off a cliff, probably due to low visibility, and broke a leg. He froze to death because he couldn’t move.”
Libby’s eyes were huge now. “Oh my god, that’s horrible.”
Jared shrugged. He kind of wished he hadn’t told her that last part. Too late now. “He was a horrible person, Libby. He caused deaths, even if he didn’t pull the trigger himself. And he betrayed his country. He would have caused more death and destruction if he hadn’t been stopped.”
“It sounds like a Mission Impossible movie.”
Jared laughed. “Sometimes it does.”
“What’s an MRE?”
“It’s a prepackaged meal ready to eat used by the military. No microwave or heat source necessary.”
She accepted that information and moved on. Typical Libby, he was coming to realize. “And your friend is named Rascal?”
“It’s a call sign or code name, whatever you prefer to think of it as. A lot of guys in Special Ops have them instead of using their given names.”
“Do you?”
He should have known she would ask. “I did.”
She gave him a look. “And?”
He hadn’t used the name in a long time, for many reasons, but he suddenly wanted to say it aloud again. He wanted to hear it for the first time in years. “It was Knight with a K. I don’t use it anymore.”
“Why not? It sounds pretty cool to me.”
He didn’t know what to say. The name felt good on his tongue, and yet he’d left it behind when he’d left the Air Force. “I just don’t. It’s part of my past, not my present.”
“How did you get it?”
He went to poke the fire, wishing he’d never mentioned it. He should have known she wouldn’t let it be. Libby was curious and she asked questions. Lots of questions. But there were too many feelings tangled up with that name, and he wasn’t prepared to examine them right now. “It’s not important,” he said, a bit more sharply than he’d intended.
She was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t turn to look at her. He heard the rustle of papers. “Okay, if you say so.”
He turned. “Libby—”
“No, it’s fine. I think I’m going to get back to the book now. I need to know what happens to these people.”
She didn’t speak again. He didn’t either, mostly because he didn’t know what to say. He poked the fire and called himself an asshole for telling her his call sign in the first place if he didn’t intend to explain it. But it wasn’t an easy thing to say aloud. He didn’t like failing, and what’d happened to make him stop using the name represented the biggest failure of his military career.
He closed his eyes and said the words to himself, like he had so many times before. He was called Knight because he always swooped in like a knight in shining armor to save the people who needed him. It was his mission, his calling. But that day in the Hindu Kush, that last brutal mission where his PJ squad had been dropped in to help a SEAL team taking heavy fire, he hadn’t saved anyone.
Instead, he’d almost lost his own life. The fighting had raged for hours, and nothing his squad did changed the balance. They were overwhelmed. In the end, there weren’t many SEALs or PJs who’d made it out of that battle alive. It had been an extraordinary failure. Not solely his, of course. A top-down failure of le
adership, intelligence, and strategy that cost too many lives.
He’d survived the battle, but he hadn’t let anyone call him Knight since.
Chapter Eight
Libby lay on the couch and listened to the wind howling through the trees and over the roof. She had no idea what time it was, but it was late. When she’d started to fall asleep, Jared had told her to stay on the couch for the night. He’d had to turn off the heat pump because it drew too much power from the generator. They were limited to the fireplace, which was plenty warm.
She’d slept for a while, but something had awakened her a few moments ago. Her heart raced as she strained to hear sound, but all she heard was the wind. She pushed herself up slowly, her body protesting. Jared had given her another muscle relaxer, and that helped, but she still had aches and pains. There was a bruise on her right hip that went partway down her thigh. It was just beginning to purple, so it would look worse in a day or two. She’d asked Jared if he thought the bruises on her arm were fingerprints, but he’d only looked at her with a hard expression and said he wasn’t sure.
She did feel better though. The cuts on her head and neck didn’t throb as much anymore. Jared had looked at them again and pronounced them free of infection. She had him to thank for that. She was grateful to him, but he confused her too. He was prickly and growly, but also kind when necessary. He was really good at soothing her fears.
Carefully, she stood. A movement by the window startled her and she let out a little gasp.
“It’s just me,” Jared said as he moved back into the light.
Her heart thumped again. “I know.”
“You seem surprised. Do you need something?”
“I didn’t see you there. I was going to the restroom.”
He nodded, and she left him and went to do her business. When she returned, he was lying on the other couch, hand behind his head, watching the fresh logs he’d tossed onto the fire catch and flare bright.
Libby crawled beneath the covers and pulled them up to her chin. The couch wasn’t especially comfortable, but it wasn’t too bad. At least her entire body fit on it. Unlike Jared, whose legs hung over the side when he lay on his back.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“A little after three.”
“Wow, I thought it was later.”
“Nope. We’ve got a few hours until daylight.”
“I thought I heard something when I woke up.”
“Wolves. They’re howling extra loud tonight. Or so it seems.”
She had a vision of wolves—or maybe it was coyotes—under a full moon that hung over a field. There was a farmhouse, and two men with shotguns heading into the field because a cow was missing.
“Liberty, stay inside with your mother.” The words echoed in her head, the man’s voice firm and commanding. And maybe a little cold.
“Sounds like a memory.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the words. Her face was hot with embarrassment. “I think it might be. Either that or I’m replaying a movie plot in my head.”
It didn’t feel like a movie. It felt real. She closed her eyes. If only she could remember more. Who was she? What was she doing in a snowy forest in thin clothing and running shoes? What the hell was going on?
Tears stung her eyes. She swiped them angrily. She felt so helpless and out of control.
“They called me Knight because I was a para-rescueman, or PJ,” Jared said, his voice deep and reassuring in the stillness. “That’s the Air Force equivalent of a Navy SEAL—except we’re who gets called when the SEALs are in trouble. We’re combat medics and warriors, and we show up to save the day when it goes to shit. I was always a knight in shining armor until the day I wasn’t.”
Libby realized she was holding her breath. She let it out slowly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s part of the job. It was a bad situation, and a lot of men didn’t make it out. I did. I haven’t felt like anyone’s savior since.”
She didn’t know what to say. She was always full of questions—she had them now—but none of them seemed appropriate. “You didn’t have to tell me.”
“Maybe not, but I was short with you earlier. I shouldn’t have been.”
“I talk a lot. Maybe I deserved it.”
His blue eyes were piercing in the light from the fire. “No, I don’t think you did. You might talk a lot, but so what? Some people talk and some don’t. We’re all different.”
He made her glow inside. “You’re a really nice guy, Jared. I hope you know that.”
“I’m not always, but there’s no reason not to be nice to you. It’s not your fault you’re here, and it’s not your fault you can’t remember.”
“I keep hoping it’ll all come flooding back. Just a single moment and boom, Libby knows who she is.” She bit the inside of her lip. “I hope I like myself. What if I’m awful?”
“I doubt that very much. If you’re awful, you don’t stop being awful because you can’t remember. And I haven’t seen anything to make me think you’re awful.”
“I’m afraid,” she admitted. “Afraid of remembering how I got here. It can’t have been good.”
“I understand—but remembering is good, Libby. You need to know who you are and where you came from so you know where you’re going.”
She heard the wisdom in his statement, yet she still feared the unknown. So many possibilities.
“I feel like I’m in limbo. I don’t know who I am, who my friends and family are, or where I live. I don’t know if anyone is looking for me, or if they even know I’m gone. I see you using your phone, and I feel like I should have one too—but I don’t. It’s lost, along with my memory. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since you found me and I still don’t know.”
“You will. Trust me.”
“What happens if I don’t remember?”
“First, you will. At some point, you will. Second, your identity won’t stay secret for long. We all have a digital presence, Libby. You have a job, a life. Even if you live alone and work from home, you have a digital footprint. It’s not hard to find, and my guys are the best. They’ll get the answers. Besides, there’s always DNA testing if nothing else comes up. One way or the other, we’ll know who you are in a matter of days.”
She should be relieved that he had the answers. But she wasn’t. Fear of the unknown sat heavy in her heart, filling her with dread. It was a long while before she slept again.
It was getting lighter outside when Jared’s phone pinged. He’d lost signal hours ago so he knew a text meant the cell tower was back. Either through the work of the phone company or Dax. Jared didn’t care which, he was just glad to have it.
The text was from Ian, shortly before midnight. Liberty King. She’s the only one not accounted for. 25, 5’5”, dark blond hair, 140 pounds. Admin assistant at Ninja Solutions in Chantilly, VA. They’re a tech firm working on military AI applications. Lives alone in apartment in Arlington. Not a Gemini assassin. Let me know when you get this.
Jared typed back. Got it. She still hasn’t remembered who she is.
Liberty King. She’d been right about the name. What the hell was an admin assistant from the DC metro area doing in the Shenandoahs dressed in running clothes? It wasn’t necessarily anything sinister, but something didn’t feel right.
A fight with a boyfriend was still a possibility, of course. Or maybe she’d been kidnapped by a predator when she’d gone out for a run. A predator she’d somehow escaped.
Ian’s reply came back. She hasn’t been reported missing yet. Her car is at her apartment building. Her cell phone is dead, but last known location is near Culpeper.
Jared: So someone grabbed her. And hurt her in the process.
Raped her? Possibly. The thought filled him with hot rage. Not that she’d mentioned any vaginal trauma symptoms, but she could be too embarrassed to discuss bleeding or pain with him. And there weren’t always signs of trauma, though considering she had other bru
ises, it would have been more likely there’d be something going on.
Ian: Don’t have much on her yet, but it seems most likely scenario. Question is why.
Jared: I’d really like to know that too. Why and who.
He’d kick some ass if he found whoever had done this to her. Make them wish they’d never laid eyes on Libby King. He hadn’t been able to do that for his mother because he’d been too young, but he damn sure didn’t have that problem these days.
Ian: Keep pinging me. I think the tower is solid, but if we get more snow, could go out again.
Jared: Copy.
Jared tossed the phone onto the cushion and got up to visit the restroom and make coffee. Once the coffee was brewing, he returned to stoke the fire and add a couple of logs. The living room was warm, but the bathroom had been pretty damn chilly. Libby was sound asleep. She lay on her side, her legs curled beneath her, her arms under her pillow. Her hair was dark gold where it spilled over the pillow. She had a bruise forming on her head where the bandage sat, but otherwise her face was unmarked.
Under different circumstances, he might want to ask her out, see how it went. It was true she talked a hell of a lot, but it wasn’t as annoying as he’d anticipated. He was pretty sure she’d have never read War and Peace on her own, but she was reading it and talking about it now, even if she’d rather watch television. He liked a woman who adapted to the situation without complaint.
He hoped she’d wake up with the knowledge of who she was, but if she didn’t, he would tell her what he knew. It might jiggle something free.
He’d seen this kind of amnesia before, always trauma related. It went away within hours, sometimes days, but it always went away. Except for the kind of amnesia that followed an accident or violent encounter where someone couldn’t remember the events immediately preceding or the aftermath. He’d seen people lose days that way, often permanently.
He’d never seen anyone lose who they were, however.
Jared got his coat and went outside to check on the generator and replenish the wood on the front porch. They still had gas and the generator was humming along. The snow was thick on the ground, but it had stopped falling. The only flakes coming down now were those that blew off the trees. He trudged down the driveway until he reached the main road. It wasn’t as bad as he’d anticipated, but it wasn’t great either. Maybe the plows would come through sometime today.
Black Knight (A Black's Bandits Novel): HOT Heroes for Hire: Mercenaries Page 6
