by Paige Tyler
“I’d been in so many firefights that I’d stopped counting them,” Knox continued. “I’d seen a lot of people die, including fellow SEALs, but nothing hit me the way Lawrence’s death did. The damn guy had been through nearly a year of the most intense, grueling training that had ever been created just to prepare him for that moment, and he died from a random gunshot in less than a minute. I watched him die right there in front of me, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”
Rachel rolled onto her side and rested her warm hand on his chest. It felt good. “Is what happened to Lawrence the reason you got out of the navy? When you talked about it before, you never really said.”
Knox didn’t turn his head to look at her. His commander, team members, friends, and family had all asked the same thing. “I lied to myself and said it had nothing to do with him. I reasoned that one death out of all the deaths I’d seen while I’d been a SEAL shouldn’t have that kind of power over me. Hell, I’d barely had a chance to talk to Lawrence, much less get to know him. How could his death affect me so much?”
“But?” Rachel prompted again, making Knox think that she’d missed her calling. She should have been a shrink.
“I found out that lying to yourself doesn’t help. I didn’t have nightmares as bad as yours, but I found myself reliving the moment when Lawrence died,” he said. “It frustrated me. I mean, I know that good people die all the time, but in the end, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Lawrence’s death was different. It wasn’t until later, after I’d gotten out of the navy and was wandering around trying to figure out what came next, that I realized why his death had shaken me so much. It was because he’d died without having a chance to even live. His life had been wasted. All that skill, the training, the potential…it was all gone in the blink of an eye.”
“What happened to Lawrence wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly.
“I know,” Knox murmured. “Well, I do now anyway. It took me a while to get to this point. In the days and weeks after Lawrence died, I blamed myself. The way I saw it, he’d been fresh out of training, but I had eight damn years of combat experience. Why hadn’t I been able to do something? The doubts tore me apart a little more each day. If I couldn’t save someone like Lawrence, what good was any of it?” He sighed. “It wasn’t long before I was questioning everything I believed in, everything I thought was important to me. That’s why I ended up getting out of the SEALs. Not because of the nightmares and all that other crap, but because I stopped believing what I was doing mattered. It was like I lost my purpose in life.”
Rachel moved closer, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, loving the feel of her smooth skin against his. “Did you talk to a therapist? Is that how you were able to stop blaming yourself?”
“I didn’t exactly talk to one,” he admitted. “A lot of the VA hospitals in the country offer walk-in counseling. Others have group sessions that are open to anyone who needs them. Sometimes, when I was out on the road trying to get my head back on straight, I’d stop in and sit in the back row and listen to what everyone else had to say. They got me to talk a few times, but I didn’t say too much. Like I said, mostly I just listened. Knowing I wasn’t the only person out there dealing with this stuff helped. I won’t try to convince you that I did things the right way, especially since I rarely saw the same counselor more than once, but one thing I’m sure of: I don’t believe a person gets better from something like this. The memories of your trauma will always be there. I think the goal is to find a way to come to peace with them without them being so devastating for you.”
Rachel pushed up on her forearm to give him a dubious look. “I don’t know about that.”
He gave her a small smile. “It won’t happen right away, but if you work at this, it will get better over time. I promise.”
Her lips curved. “You know, for a former hunter, you’re really good at this personal advice stuff.”
Knox snorted. “How long are you going to hold that hunter stuff over my head? I made one lousy decision and ended up on the wrong side—temporarily, I might add. You’d think taking a bullet for you at the wedding reception would balance the scales.”
She smacked his shoulder playfully. “Balance the scales? You wouldn’t have needed to take that bullet if you weren’t there to kill werewolves. If you’re looking to apologize to me for being a hunter, you’ll need to come up with something better than that.”
Rachel climbed astride his body, silently helping him come up with a damn good way to start that apology, but as he put his hands on her naked hips, there was a horrendous crashing sound from the living room. Cursing, Knox set her aside and jumped out of bed, scrambling for the clothes he’d left on the floor and the Glock holstered there.
Footsteps approached the bedroom just as he came up with his gun. He pointed it toward the door, finger on the trigger. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rachel reaching for her weapons on the nightstand. But then she froze, diving back into bed and dragging the blanket up to cover her breasts.
Knox had a moment to notice his claws and fangs were halfway out before a man charged into the room. Knox came damn close to shooting the guy, every instinct he had urging him to protect Rachel, when he realized the intruder was her SWAT teammate Diego.
“What the hell, Diego?” Rachel shouted, clutching the blanket in her clawed hands, eyes glowing an angry green.
Diego halted in his tracks a few feet inside the room, an automatic in his hands pointed directly at Knox. And yeah, Diego’s claws and fangs were out, too. His eyes were glowing so golden yellow they practically sparked with the promise of violence.
Knox kept his weapon aimed at Diego, wondering when the shooting was going to start. For the moment, at least, the other werewolf was too busy taking in the scene before him—a naked guy standing there holding a gun on him, an equally naked, furious woman in bed under the blankets, and clothes strewn all over the room.
“What the hell?” Diego repeated, confusion obvious on his face and in his tone as his gaze settled on Rachel. “That’s what I’d like to know. The door to your apartment looks like it’s been kicked in, then wedged shut, and while I’m trying to decide whether to kick it in myself, I overhear you saying Knox is a frigging hunter.”
He stopped, like he expected Rachel to say something. When she didn’t, he continued.
“Tell me I heard wrong. Tell me you aren’t sleeping with a hunter who tried to kill you, me, and the rest of our pack mates.”
Rachel glowered at him. “Put that damn gun away and turn around!”
She gave Diego less than a second to comply before she whipped back the blanket and climbed out of bed. She marched over to the dresser, moving with the grace and intensity of a pissed-off angel. Neither he nor Diego said a word as she pulled out underwear and a SWAT-issued T-shirt, then grabbed a pair of matching tactical uniform pants from the closet and got dressed. Knox took the opportunity to put his weapon away and get his own clothes back on.
Once Rachel was dressed, she walked over to stand in front of Diego.
“First off, if you broke my door, you’re paying for it,” she said, her eyes flashing green again, her voice a low growl.
Diego opened his mouth, probably to point out that the door was already broken when he got there, but Rachel cut him off with a glare that would scorch paint. Knox felt like he should provide backup or something, but he knew he’d only get in the way. Besides, he didn’t want her looking at him like that.
“Secondly, yes, I am sleeping with a hunter.” She took a step closer to her pack mate, glowering at him so hard he actually took a step back. Her claws might not have been out, but she still looked like she was half a second from ripping him a new one—literally. “And while he’s actually a former hunter who never hurt a werewolf and instead took a bullet meant for me, the only thing you need to get through that thick sku
ll of yours is that I decided to sleep with him. That means I learned everything I needed to know about his past and his involvement with the hunters and came to the conclusion that he’s a good person.”
Diego opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off again.
“Notice that at no point did I mention running over to one of my best friends in the Pack to get his okay on whether I should climb into bed with Knox. That’s because I don’t need your approval or anyone else’s before I decide to sleep with someone. I’d expect my friends to trust me to make that decision for myself.”
Knox felt almost bad for the other werewolf as Rachel blasted him. At least Diego had the intelligence to look chagrined. But before the guy could apologize, Rachel held up her hand, silencing him.
“And for what it’s worth,” she added. “Knox is here because I had a major meltdown last night, complete with delusions that someone was attacking me. It was so bad I ripped the mirror off the dresser and threw it into the living room, then grabbed my weapons. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be in a psych ward somewhere right now. He’s even talked me into seeing a therapist and agreed to go with me when I do.”
Diego gave Knox a look that seemed partly grudging appreciation and partly something else. Knox wasn’t sure, but he thought it might be jealousy. Which didn’t make a lot of sense, since Rachel said Diego was nothing more than a pack mate and friend.
“You’re going to go see Dr. Delacroix?” Diego asked Rachel. “I wish it hadn’t taken so long for you to do it, but I guess that as long as you do it, that’s all that matters.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the room until Diego finally cleared his throat. “So, I originally came over to pick you up for our shift. You still want a ride to the Lloyds’ place?”
Rachel shook her head. “I’m at the courthouse today. Jennifer is having a meeting with the judge and defense lawyers, and I’m backing up Khaki there.”
Diego looked back and forth between Knox and Rachel before nodding. “Okay, I’ll see you later at the Lloyds’. Or the compound. Or wherever.”
Rachel muttered a curse as he walked out of the bedroom. “Diego, hold on a second.”
Knox hung back in the bedroom as Rachel hurried into the living room to catch up with her pack mate. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but with his werewolf hearing, it was kind of impossible not to. She was asking Diego not to say anything about her and Knox—or the meltdown—to the other members of the Pack. Diego agreed but pointed out she was going to need to tell their pack mates at some point.
“Preferably before this all blows up in your face,” Diego added.
Knox thought the conversation was over, but then he heard Rachel ask if they were good. There was a moment of silence before Diego chuckled, saying they’d always be good. There was a rustling of fabric and Knox guessed they were hugging. It was a short hug, but Knox still didn’t like it. Neither did his inner wolf.
Rachel thanked her pack mate for kicking in her door to come to her rescue, even if she didn’t need it. “Maybe next time, though, knock first?”
A few moments later, she returned to the bedroom. “Sorry about that. Diego crossed about a dozen lines with that crap.”
Knox shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. He’s a friend and he was worried about you. It’s cool you have people who care about you enough to do something like that.”
Rachel didn’t say anything but, instead, eyed him like she was worried he was going to bolt or something.
He ran his hand through his hair and let out a breath. “What time do you need to be at the courthouse?”
She walked over to him, her lips curving into a smile as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. “I could hang around for another fifteen or twenty minutes if I skip breakfast. What do you have in mind?”
He placed his hands on her hips. “I was thinking I could clean up that mess in the living room, then maybe try to fix your door while you pack a weekender.”
Rachel eyed him with a baffled expression.
“My extended-stay hotel isn’t much more than a small bedroom and a living room with a kitchenette, but I thought you might want to have a place to stay for a while that isn’t inextricably linked to the nightmares you’ve been having.” When she didn’t say anything, he added, “It was just an offer. If you’d rather not, I understand.”
She continued to regard him silently for a moment before going up on her toes and kissing him. Then she stepped back with a smile that made it feel like a weight had been taken off his chest.
“I’d like to stay at your place,” she said softly. “I’d like it a lot.”
Chapter 11
Rachel made her way up the stairs to the second floor of the Frank Crowley Courts Building, doing her best not to gawk at the arc of glass that made up the roof of the atrium. It reminded her a little of the underwater tunnel at the Chattanooga Aquarium. Without the fish and the water, of course. Regardless, it was dang pretty.
She followed her nose and found Khaki sitting on a wooden bench outside one of the courtrooms, reading something on her cell phone. There weren’t many people around, so it wasn’t like keeping an eye on the doors was too difficult.
“There you are.” Her friend stuck her phone in the cargo pocket of her uniform pants and slid over to make room for her on the bench. “Marshall’s lawyers have been in there arguing with Jennifer for almost an hour and it doesn’t sound like they’re going to finish up anytime soon. I get the feeling Marshall’s side is getting desperate because they’re throwing anything in front of the judge they can think of. Jennifer keeps trashing everything they bring up. I wouldn’t be surprised if this trial wraps up in another few days. Regardless, I already called and told the DAPS guys out front to go get a coffee or something if they want.”
Rachel nodded as she sat down beside Khaki. She’d been wondering why she hadn’t seen any of Knox’s coworkers guarding the front of the building when she’d come in.
Reaching into the brown bag she’d brought with her, she took out a Boston cream donut before handing the bag to Khaki. Her friend’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw the monster-sized pastry left inside.
“What?” Rachel said, putting on a hurt expression. “Did you really think I’d stop for breakfast and forget about my best friend and how much she loves apple fritters?”
Khaki laughed and started to take a bite, but then stopped. Frowning, she took a deliberate sniff of the donut in her hand before leaning over to do the same to Rachel. Her friend’s dark eyes widened.
“I can’t believe you’re sleeping with another werewolf and didn’t tell me.” Khaki looked half-shocked, half-overjoyed. “When did you meet him? Where did you meet him? I want details, so spill!”
Rachel stared at her pack mate, speechless. Crap. She should have known Khaki would pick up Knox’s scent all over her. She was a werewolf, for Pete’s sake. And her best friend. So why was she so uncomfortable with the idea of Khaki knowing about her and Knox? She certainly trusted her not to say anything to anyone.
Besides, Diego already knew.
The problem was that Khaki would want to know details Diego hadn’t even considered. Diego had seen her in bed with Knox and immediately focused on the physical aspect of this relationship. Khaki would want to know about the emotional part. That’s what women cared about.
Unfortunately, that was the part Rachel was least sure of. She knew she liked Knox. Okay, maybe she more than liked him. Being with him felt right in a way it hadn’t with any other men she’d dated. But the PTSD she was dealing with—the nightmares, the feeling of constantly being on edge, and the hallucinations—made her doubt what she was feeling for him. How could she know if any of this was real?
“What’s wrong?” Khaki asked. “I would have thought you’d be happier about something like this.”
“I am,”
Rachel said quickly. “But…it’s complicated.”
Khaki lifted a brow. “My soul mate is also my squad leader, and we have to keep our relationship hidden from the rest of the Dallas PD so the HR department doesn’t get wind of it and force one of us to drop out of SWAT. Trust me, I’m good with complicated.”
Rachel couldn’t argue with that.
“He’s one of the guys from DAPS.” She bit into her donut as the cream filling did its best to escape. “His name is Knox Lawson, and he got out of the Navy SEALs a little while ago. He’s only been a werewolf for a couple months.”
Khaki nodded, nibbling on her apple fritter. “I think I heard Diego mention him. He said you volunteered to help Knox learn what he needs to know about being one of us. I thought that was pretty cool considering you just met him.”
Rachel took a deep breath, ready to throw herself into the deep end of the pool.
If Diego could handle the truth, Khaki should be able to as well, right?
“Technically, I ran into him before we met at the Lloyds’ place,” she admitted softly.
“You did?” Khaki asked. “Where?”
Rachel met her friend’s gaze. “At Max and Lana’s wedding reception. He was with the hunters.”
She held her breath, waiting for Khaki to go ballistic, but her friend took another bite of apple fritter, chewing thoughtfully before slowly nodding.
“Crap,” Khaki said. “That is complicated. How did he end up as a werewolf and, more importantly, in your bed? Assuming that’s where you did the deed, I mean—your bed.”
Rachel laughed, relaxing. This was Khaki she was talking to, the woman who’d been her bestie since she’d walked into the SWAT compound that first day. “Knox fell in with the hunters without realizing what they were really about. For reasons he has yet to clearly explain—if he even knows—he stepped in front of another hunter and took a bullet meant for me. That’s what turned him. Since then, he’s been hanging around Dallas to be close to me while he tried to figure out how to ask for my help.”
