Morrow nodded. “Keep me posted.”
“I will. Thanks, Captain.”
The large triage area, which was divided by curtains that created twelve-by-ten cubicles on each side of a wide middle aisle, took up three-quarters of the large, open room. On the way back, Langley passed several medical personnel, and two nurses asked if he’d been taken care of. After a brief exchange, he clomped his way down the aisle and glanced into the curtained areas on both sides until he found Hawk.
Langley swung through the curtain. Hawk’s dark hair hung in sweat-dampened strands on either side of his face. His tanned skin looked pale with pain. His pants leg was split up the outer seam, exposing a knee swollen to the size of a soccer ball.
Langley grimaced in sympathy. “They taking you to X-ray?”
“Yeah, in just a few minutes.”
“They give you something for pain?”
“Yeah. It’s starting to kick in.”
“Good. You need anything?”
“No. Not right now. Just sitting here is good.”
There was a look they all got when they’d been on a particularly dangerous mission. It was a mixture of relief and exhaustion, but also a kind of numbness crept in after the adrenaline high crashed.
“Long fucking night, listening to you guys on the radio and not being there to help.”
“Be glad you weren’t. Longest fucking night I’ve spent since being in the teams. It got pretty hairy several times, especially at the extraction site. Those flyboys really know their stuff, though. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here talking. We were in the middle of a field with ordinance going off all around us, so close all we could do was stay curled in a ball and hold on to one another.”
Langley rested a hand on Hawk’s shoulder. Of all his teammates, he was closest to Hawk. He was one of the bravest men he knew, but right now he looked shocky. “Do you know what happened to Cutter?”
Hawk remained silent for a long moment. He beckoned Langley to come closer. Lang balanced on his good leg and set aside the crutches, then braced a hand on the metal headboard and leaned close. “He was stuffed behind a cabinet in the room he had wired. What kind of terrorist attacks an intruder, doesn’t alert the others, and shoves his body behind a cabinet so he isn’t found before the detonation?”
A prickling rush of shock rushed through Langley’s limbs. He jerked up and met Hawk’s gray gaze. Not a terrorist. One of their team tried to kill Brett Weaver.
Chapter 1
SAN DIEGO, 2016
SATURDAY, 6:00 a.m.
Trish Marks fluffed her cap of straw-blond hair. This style would be easier to take care of than the longer one she’d worn forever. It was time for a change. She always ended up tying it back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way anyway. And it was just hair. If she decided she didn’t like it, she could grow it back.
Too bad it didn’t make her feel any lighter.
There was a weight dragging on her. The position of it didn’t register. She just knew it felt like she was being driven slowly, relentlessly into the ground.
The weight of taking care of too many cases at work. The weight of the kids and all their activities, in school and out. The weight of the household, the yard work, the cooking, cleaning—everything.
Sometimes when she lay in bed at night, with the empty spot beside her where Langley should be, her heart started pounding louder and louder, and she couldn’t catch her breath because of that density pressing down on her.
The weight of having her husband deployed and in danger hurt the most. At least that particular issue was lifted somewhat. Langley was finally home. But he wasn’t entirely. Not yet.
They were going through a longer than usual adjustment period. And part of it was her fault. She was feeling ragged out, stressed, and just plain resentful. She’d spent a lot more time in the bathroom talking herself out of biting his head off this time, too.
Langley was patient with her. Too patient. She wanted them to have a screaming row, but instead they were silent because of the kids. Maybe if they hammered at each other with words it would end this heavy, stifling feeling.
Especially right now, with Langley getting ready to leave for a two-week training. He just got back from a deployment, and his three weeks of leave hadn’t been long enough for them to put their family back together. And they’d exchanged some sharp words in the past few days.
After fifteen years of marriage, she’d learned to deal with everything alone. But lately, with the added caseload heaped on everyone at the office, she couldn’t seem to get her feet under her.
What was wrong with her? Why was she struggling so?
Because her husband was gone more than half the year, and her son was acting out because he felt neglected by the one parent whose approval and attention he needed most.
“Tad, stop it.” Jessica’s voice, strident and sharp, carried down the hall interrupting Trish’s thoughts.
Like fingernails down a blackboard. Were there still blackboards in schools? She hadn’t seen any in the classrooms she visited in the last few years. They’d all gone to white boards or smart boards.
“Taaaaadd.”
Trish slipped on her shoes, went to the door, and looked down the hall. Tad’s shadow, elongated and skinny, was projected against the wall opposite Jessica’s bedroom door. Trish started down the hall.
“You took my picture while I was practically naked, you little shit.” Her twelve-year-old son’s irate tone was worrying, and Trish lengthened her stride, instinctively knowing things were escalating.
“I’m sick of you wandering into my bedroom any time you want. It’s my room. When the door is closed, stay out.”
Trish reached the door just in time to see him raise the small camera Jessica got for her birthday two weeks earlier, and spike it down to the floor like it was a football and he just made a touchdown. She heard the crack of the device breaking at the same moment Jessica cried out. Her features were already crumpling as she rushed to pick up the camera.
Shocked at the violence of his reaction, the willful destruction, Trish stared at him. When she found her voice she only managed, “Tad—”
Anger still had a grip on him, and he shoved past her, stomped down the hall to his room, and slammed the door.
Jessica dropped to the floor and cradled the camera against her. Her heartbroken sobs gave Trish’s own heart a hard pinch. Her daughter had been asking for a camera of her own for a year. The camera, the only thing she’d wanted for her birthday, was now her prized possession, and she’d been so careful with it.
A small bit of plastic, part of the housing, crunched beneath Trish’s foot when she stepped into Jess’s room, and she flinched. The camera couldn’t stand up to Tad’s rage. That, too, gave her heart a jab.
She crossed to her eight-year-old daughter, sat down on the floor, and gathered Jessica close. She rocked her and smoothed her dark brown hair back from her forehead, but managed to resist joining in with a few sobs of her own, though her eyes stung and her throat ached. Twenty minutes passed before Jessica’s crying subsided into hitched breaths.
“Tad will be responsible for buying you a new camera.”
Jessica used her T-shirt to wipe her nose. “It won’t be the same.”
No. Trish didn’t think it would. It wasn’t the loss of the camera. It was her brother’s conscious desire to hurt her that Jessica would remember.
“I deleted the picture, but Tad wouldn’t listen.” Fresh tears streamed down her face. “He hates me.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s just going through some changes because he’s getting older. He doesn’t want me in his room when he’s dressing either. Do you know what it means when I say you invaded his privacy?”
Jessica nodded. “It means I opened the door while he was dressing and I shouldn’t have.”
“Promise me you won’t do that again.”
Jess’s chin wobbled, and more tears streamed down her cheeks. “I won’t.” She turn
ed her face into Trish’s shirt, another sob escaping.
She was such a sensitive child. She rarely did anything demanding discipline. The harshness of Tad’s actions would stay with her for a long time.
The uncontrolled rage in his expression would stay with Trish.
She got to her feet and went into the bathroom across the hall to get some tissues and a wet washcloth.
When she returned, Jessica was sitting on the bed. She’d placed the camera on the nightstand, but her eyes still rested on it while slow tears continued to run down her cheeks and drip off her chin.
Trish offered her the Kleenex first. After she made good use of it, Trish wiped her face with the washcloth. “Why don’t you lie down and rest for a few minutes while I go talk with your brother?”
Jessica curled on her side on top of her colorful comforter decorated with cats of all shapes and sizes. Her dark hair clung to her cheeks from sweat, tears, and the washcloth. Trish smoothed it back and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She picked up the camera from the nightstand, went down the hall to Tad’s room, tapped on the door, and waited a moment before opening it.
Tad was slouched in a molded plastic chair she’d just bought him, his large feet propped on the footboard of the bed. He was twelve but could easily pass for thirteen or fourteen because of a recent growth spurt, and his attitude. He had an I don’t give a damn smirk on his face that made her want to slap him. Too bad they didn’t do that kind of thing in their household.
“You owe your sister a new camera. I’d like a hundred dollars of your birthday money. Please get it for me now.”
His lips compressed, but he dropped his feet from the footboard and shoved his way free of the chair. He went to the dresser and opened the top drawer. He sauntered over to her and held out the money. “I don’t have a hundred, only sixty.”
“Then I suggest you ask around about odd jobs in the neighborhood to earn the other forty, because you will pay for another camera. You may use our lawn mower, hedge trimmers, and weed eater, but you’ll have to reimburse me for the gas.”
“She freaking took my picture in a towel and nothing else.”
“She deleted it before you destroyed the camera.” She purposely opened the small compartment at the base of the device and removed the SD chip. Perhaps she could print the photos Jessica had taken. It wouldn’t make up for her loss, but it might comfort her.
She placed the camera on the chest of drawers where Tad would see it every time he came into the room. “She’s only eight, Tad. Was only being mischievous, not mean. She looks up to you so much.”
“Then she shouldn’t.”
A dull ache settled at the base of her throat. “You may have gotten your wish because of your behavior today.” She waited for him to reply. He remained silent, but looked away. “What if someone came into your room and took a hammer to your Xbox? How would you feel about that?”
His blue eyes, so much like hers, lit with resentment. “Don’t pull your psychology bull-crap on me, Mom.”
Disappointment lodged in the pit of her stomach. She tucked the SD chip into her pocket. “I was looking for a little empathy, and I was hoping you’d regret destroying something that meant a great deal to your sister. She’s upset about the camera, but she’s more upset that you were so cruel. And I’ve never known you to be purposely cruel before, Tad.”
At his continued silence, she walked over and removed both controllers to the Xbox. “I think you need to stay in your room for a while and think some things through. When you’ve replaced your sister’s camera, you can have your controllers back.”
She closed the door behind her and stood outside for a moment. Everything remained ominously quiet. She ran her fingers through her short hair, still not used to the feel of it lying close to her head instead of swinging against her jaw. She put the controllers in her room in a shoebox and tucked them away on a shelf with several other boxes.
She walked back down the hall to Jessica’s bedroom. Jess had curled on her side and turned her back to the room. Trish leaned back against the wall just outside the door. Tears of sympathy stung her eyes, but it was more than that. She was losing her son to hormones, teenage angst, and an anger she didn’t understand.
Langley would be back in a while. He’d gone to the base to work on a schedule for the training he and his team were doing in a week or so.
They needed to talk about Tad. They needed to talk about a lot of things. She braced her hands on her knees and struggled against the draining welter of emotions.
They needed to find a way to connect again. They’d been able to do it before. They could do it again.
Chapter 2
SAN DIEGO, 2016
SATURDAY, 6:30 a.m.
“Derrick Armstrong will be out in six months.” Hawk’s tone was casual, and he continued filling out the requisition forms on his desk as though he was just shooting the shit while working.
It was Saturday and the office was quiet. Some personnel were off for the weekend, while others worked out in the field doing trainings. Langley couldn’t be quite so casual. “How did you find out?”
Hawk glanced up, his gray eyes pale against his naturally bronze skin. “I know someone at the brig in Miramar. He’s keeping me apprised.”
“When he’s released, he’ll get a dismissal notice and be discharged?”
“Yeah. He pled guilty to unlawful imprisonment, terroristic threatening, assault, and the unlawful discharge of a firearm. He was lucky to get only five years.”
Lucky. “He was the one, wasn’t he?” Langley asked.
“He’ll never admit it. But yeah. I believe he was. He and Brett were arguing before we arrived at the drop site. During the mission, Flash was on the roof of a building covering us. Greenback was covering our back door. Bowie and Doc got out before we knew anything was wrong, and neither of them had a beef with Cutter. And if Doc had wanted to kill him, he could easily have dragged his feet with medical care and just let him slip away. He worked hard to keep him going until we got him back to base. Derrick was the only one left besides me. And I was the first out of the building, and I know I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“You wouldn’t have gone back in for him if you’d been involved. You could have just let the timers run out while the rest of you bugged out.”
“Doc swears he saw someone going back in through a window before I went in the front door. I believe it was Derrick. He was either having second thoughts and was going back in to help, or he wanted to finish him off before I found him.”
Langley remained silent for a long moment. “So he gets off with five years after nearly killing a member of his team, damn near getting you blown to bits, and putting the rest in danger.”
Hawk raised a dark brow. “He hasn’t gotten off. He’ll get that letter of dismissal before he’s discharged from the brig. When he walks out of those doors, he’ll have a very hard time finding work, he won’t be able to own a firearm, and if he gets in trouble again as a civilian, they’ll come down on him hard. He’ll carry what he did with him for the rest of his life.”
Langley nodded. Having it spelled out like that made it seem more like justice had been done. But he still had that queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach when he remembered the team returning from the mission. They’d all been…shell-shocked. All of their lives had been put in harm’s way because of Derrick Armstrong’s actions. For a time, they all pulled away from each other a little. Seeing Brett fighting for his life, and in a coma for more than a month, had shoved the idea of their own mortality in their faces. It was a tough time.
“We came back stronger after he went to jail,” Langley commented.
“Yeah, we did. We lost Brett and Flash to other things, and now they’re with other teams, but we’ve gained three good operators, and moved on as a team.
“And now we’ve lost Doc to his own team.”
“And gained Logan and Sizemore. They’ve shaped up into real
ly strong operators. And now, with Tyler taking Doc’s place, the team’s back in fighting form.”
“Until you leave,” Langley said. He was happy for Hawk’s promotion to Lieutenant Commander. He was rising in the ranks just as he should. He was an exemplary officer, and had proven himself to be a top-notch operator and leader. He trained his men well, and was a natural-born leader. Every man in their team would follow him into hell and back if he asked it of them.
But, damn, it was going to be hard getting used to the team without him. And whoever they got to fill his shoes was going to have to have some big ones of their own to stand up to Hawk’s reputation.
“Maybe you’ll be going with me. You’re up for promotion, and I’ll still need an XO.”
There were so few Master Chief promotions. Chances were he wouldn’t make it.
“I’d like that, Hawk. But there’s more than duty and work that goes into one of those promotions.”
“I know. I’ll be pulling for you. Captain Jackson will be too. It may come through.”
He started to say something about Trish and held it back. If he could be Hawk’s XO, and be responsible for the daily running and organization, he’d be out of the line of fire some of the time. That might ease some of Trish’s worries.
Fifteen minutes later, Langley strode across the asphalt parking lot to his vehicle.
He’d finished the schedule while Hawk requisitioned the weapons they’d need for the training. But just when he thought he was finished, there was something else that needed to be done. Or was he stalling?
What he really needed to do was get things squared away with his wife. There was something going on with Trish, and he hadn’t been able to get a handle on it. One minute she was great, and the next down his throat about some inconsequential nothing.
He got into the car and started the engine. The radio was on a rock station and he pushed the button to turn it off, enjoying the silence while he drove. It was the only time he had quiet in his life. He wove his way out of the parking lot to the main road, through the base to the gate, and out.
Breaking Point: A SEAL Team Heartbreakers Novella Page 2
