“What did the extremists want with you?” Roxanne asked.
“Money.” Lana shrugged. “Nothing but money. I don’t even know why they picked me in particular. When I tried to ask them, they just hit me in the face. They definitely weren’t chivalrous.”
“How did you rate the SEAL’s rescue?” Magnus asked.
How did I rate? She felt heat rising to her face.
“My parents worked hard to get me out, but so did my friend Jillie,” Lana said. “They worked through channels and the President eventually signed off on it.”
“Two weeks is fast. It’s taken a lot longer for a few other people held in captivity,” Richards said.
Lana nodded as memories bombarded her. She shivered as she recalled the woman who’d been kept in a hut next to her. Another kidnapping victim. “I was fortunate. I could have been there much longer. You don’t know how grateful I am that it wasn’t worse. There was a woman in a hut next to mine. She’d been kidnapped from somewhere else. She spoke Spanish, and I’d hear her screaming. I’d hear—”
Lana cut herself off.
Magnus grunted again. “SEALs, eh? Must be nice to have friends in high places.”
Indignation burned a hole in Lana. “I don’t. As I said, it was lucky they were able to get me out so quickly.”
“Must be nice,” Magnus said.
“Magnus, I’ll have to ask you to follow the rules. Remember, we’re to be respectful at all times,” Addy said.
Magnus folded his arms and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful.”
Right. Lana didn’t believe it for a minute.
Addy shifted in her chair and wrote some notes. “All right. Let’s move on for now. Aaron?”
Anticipation seemed to hang in the air when they switched attention to the stoic man in the circle. Aaron ran one hand over his very short hair, his big hand bronzed and looking strong enough to break rocks.
Aaron folded his hands over his stomach again and slouched in the chair until his long jean-clad legs sprawled out in front of him. “According to the VA shrink, I’ve got twenty years of trauma. My brother died in 2002. He was an A-10 pilot in the Air Force. Mechanical failure. He ejected, but that didn’t save him. He wasn’t even in a war zone. Crashed in the desert in Arizona. But there is more…just being a marine in a war zone…yeah, there’s more.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I had plans for what I’d do when I retired. I was going to finish my Master’s Degree in History and teach high school. But when I got out of the military I couldn’t seem to get my shi—” He glanced up. “My crap together.”
“What made you realize you had PTSD?” Addy asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t really think that’s what’s wrong with me.”
Lana’s mouth popped open. She hadn’t expected that, and by the looks on everyone else’s faces, they hadn’t either.
Addy seemed a tad off guard, but she pushed forward. “You said the court ordered you here. Explain what that’s about.”
His gaze latched onto Lana’s and something compelling made her stare back.
“There was this guy in a diner in town…he was saying crap about the military. I was there eating dinner with my father and…I just let loose on the guy. I punched him,” Aaron said.
Lana shivered and tore her gaze from Aaron’s. The violence in the marine simmered beneath the surface, a calm barely contained by civilization. A weird combination of fear and thrill stirred inside her and burned in a low hum.
Addy’s expression remained nonjudgmental. “And then what happened?”
“I was arrested,” Aaron said, his words now perfunctory, “and charged with assault. The judge ordered a psychiatric evaluation.” A smile that wasn’t a smile touched his mouth. “The VA said I’m suffering PTSD. They recommended group therapy. The judge said if I completed the therapy, the charges would be dropped. So here I am.”
“You sound like you don’t want to be here,” Richard said.
Aaron snorted. “No, I sure as hell don’t.”
“Why didn’t you go to jail?” Magnus asked.
Aaron eyeballed Magnus for a moment, and Lana saw the contempt underlying that perusal.
Aaron straightened in his chair. “It didn’t go to trial. The guy I punched withdrew the charges, and the judge took pity on me. He said I needed therapy, not prison bars. He said his own son had PTSD. Lucky me, I got the right judge.”
Not long after, the session finished up. Addy went over PTSD symptoms again and the general psychology behind the disorder. Lana could see Aaron chomping at the bit. He wanted to get the hell out of here. She couldn’t say she blamed him—her tailbone hurt from sitting so long in a plastic chair.
As the group broke up for the day, Addy said, “Remember, next session is Thursday at six p.m. If anything keeps you from attending, be sure to let me know so I won’t worry.”
When they reached the steps outside the clinic, people headed into the parking lot. All except Lana. She looked for Jillie’s car. No sign of her. She checked her watch. The group had broken up on time.
The outdoors rushed at her, and a blast of fear grabbed her by the throat. At this time of the year, the sun hadn’t yet dropped below Pikes Peak. Temperatures had dropped into the high seventies. Aspen and Ponderosa pines planted many years ago surrounded the building and branches swayed in the breeze. Leaves and pine needles rustled and whispered. Honking horns and other sounds of traffic filtered up from the street. She rubbed her arms as a breeze drifted over her. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Half her battle came in remembering to breathe. She leaned back against the door. The fanny pack around her waist acted as the only barrier to the world. No. No. I’m not going to panic.
Aaron had started down the steps, but he hesitated and looked back up at her. He returned to the top step.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” All her senses heightened as a prickle went over her skin. She didn’t want him close to her.
“You need a ride somewhere?”
“No. I’m waiting for Jillie to pick me up.”
He nodded. “Your friend that was on the bus with you.”
“Yes.”
Damn it, Jillie. Couldn’t you be on time for once?
She didn’t want to be ungrateful. She was damned lucky Jillie was willing to drive her.
He tilted his head to the side and looked her over with one swoop. Not an insulting once-over, but with a smooth, admiring gaze she recognized as masculine appreciation. Okay, so he liked what he saw. She didn’t want him to notice her that way.
He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Then I’ll wait with you.”
“Oh, no. You don’t have to do that.” Please don’t.
“Yeah, I do. Doesn’t look like there’s anyone else around, and I’m not leaving a woman here by herself.”
Okay, so he was thinking more of her as a woman alone and not a woman he wanted to hit on. Good.
“Thanks,” she said, feeling twenty types of lame in that one moment. “But I’ve got pepper spray.”
He smiled, and this time it was a genuine, amused expression with real warmth. It changed his look from bad news to drop-dead hot in a heartbeat. Her pulse thrummed. Oh, no. No. She wasn’t going there. Now was not the time to find a beat-up, violent, unpredictable man attractive. She didn’t do relationships with broken men. Not now. Not ever.
“It’s okay.” He leaned against the wall next to the door quite a distance from where she stood. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”
What could she say to that? Her fingers curled around the metal railing at the top of the steps. “That’s very chivalrous of you.”
“My parents taught me right.”
“Well…thank you.”
He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Do I make you nervous?”
She didn’t expect that question, but she’d always been a direct person…at least she had been
until a few months ago. “Honestly, yes you do.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not a violent guy normally. When I hit that idiot in the diner…I’d never done anything like that before. And I’d never put my hand on a woman in anger. Ever.”
“You think you were justified in hitting him?”
He smiled and shifted on his feet. He stuffed his hands into his front pockets. “Hell, no. I knew better. I just couldn’t control it. Something snapped.”
“Yet you don’t think you have PTSD? What do you think is wrong?”
His face turned stony. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll figure it out coming to this group.”
“What would you be doing if you weren’t here?”
“Tuesday and Thursday nights are the same as any other night for me. I haven’t done much since I retired. You heard me say I was going to get my Masters in History. Obviously that isn’t happening.”
She was curious. Way too curious. She wanted to ask him dozens of questions, and that surprised the hell out of her. No, it shouldn’t. If she talked, she wouldn’t think about the world rushing in at her.
“Do you have agoraphobia?” he asked suddenly. “You look like you wish you were back in the building.”
Surprised, she said, “Yes. No. Not really. It’s a sort of half phobia. I get nervous driving…it’s a part of the PTSD. Jillie takes me shopping and…” She trailed off, aware that she was babbling, talking about herself too much. Okay, so she’d pushed that far enough. “I wouldn’t be this nervous, but my time in Costa Rica sort of screwed with my sense of safety.”
“You went through a lot.”
“Hardly combat.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Even a marine put in that situation would have stress trying to survive.”
She slowly released the railing and then rubbed the back of her neck.
They fell into a silence with questions hanging between them.
“Your friend always late picking you up?” he asked.
“Not always, but she is chronically late for a lot of things.” Once the words came out of her mouth, she wished she hadn’t answered. Fear spiked inside her. Not a smart thing to tell a stranger her plans. Anger at herself replaced the fear.
His eyes narrowed in disapproval, and she could see questions running around in his head again. “But she helped get you out of Costa Rica.”
“Yes, she did.” She drew in a slow breath. “You’re very direct.”
“One of my many faults.”
The cocky side of her, which she’d subdued since the kidnapping, returned in a heartbeat. “What other faults do you have?”
He lifted one eyebrow in apparent surprise. “I’m anal. A bit of a control freak.”
“Hmmm. I leave the toothpaste cap halfway off. I don’t roll the tube from the bottom. I don’t organize the bills in my wallet so all the numbers face one way.”
“Damn, well, that’s a deal breaker.”
She gave a half smile, genuinely amused for the first time in days. “Deal breaker?”
“Yeah. I was considering asking you out.”
A snappy comeback almost came out. Almost. No. Don’t do it. Memories flooded her of time in the hut in Costa Rica, The Cave, as she’d named it in her mind. She drew in a deep breath, remembering how her therapist had coached her to regain her confidence, to find her way back to her true self.
“Really? No sweat. I wouldn’t have said yes anyway,” she managed to get past her lips.
A big smile broke over his mouth, a genuine grin reaching mesmerizing green eyes that made him look twenty times less intimidating. God, was he a walking, talking poster for marine hottie? Yep, he was.
“Fair enough,” he said.
A silence enveloped them before she couldn’t take it anymore. “Were you born in Colorado Springs?”
“Yep.”
“And your family lives here?”
“Yeah. My Mom and Dad and sister Mandy. She’s a lawyer. My other sister Gina is a homemaker with a baby girl and lives in Georgia right now. Her husband’s in the army.”
“Ah. So was Mandy your lawyer for the assault charge?”
His eyes sparked, but in amusement rather than anger. “No. We agreed it didn’t make sense for a relative to be involved.”
Jillie’s car came into the parking lot, and relief rushed through Lana. She started to move down the steps. “There’s Jillie.”
“Good.” He followed her down the steps and started toward a blue SUV. “See you Thursday.”
“See you.”
As Jillie pulled up to the curb, Lana released the tension that had drawn tight inside her. She climbed inside Jillie’s green compact.
I could drive my own car. My almost-new SUV. She would. She would when she found a way to keep this panic at bay.
“Hey there.” Jillie’s round, normally cheerful face had apology written all over it. “Kid’s soccer coach had a meeting with the kids after the practice. Took extra time.”
“It’s okay.” Lana couldn’t argue with motherhood issues, and she was grateful Jillie had offered to drive her.
“Who was that guy?” Jillie asked with a frown.
Jillie’s tone, cautious and disapproving, struck an insecure part of Lana. She didn’t like the feeling. “He’s in the therapy group.”
“Was he harassing you?”
“No.” She left it at that.
“You can’t be too cautious with these people. You don’t know what they’re all about.”
“Of course. I’m trying to open up a bit. Remember, I need to be less paranoid.”
Jillie’s mouth stayed in a grim line. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”
Lana smiled. “You think there’s another kidnapper around the corner?”
Jillie threw her a hard look. “Don’t be ridiculous. But you were out there alone. You don’t know what these whacked-out guys might do.”
Lana kept her attention forward as Jillie rocked down the street at a fast clip and made her way onto the nearest onramp for the highway.
“Well, they don’t know what I might do,” Lana said.
“You’re not crazy.”
“Thanks. But they aren’t either.”
“How do you know?”
Lana rubbed at her forehead where a headache started to form. “I don’t know. One’s crazy is another man’s eccentric. All I know is they aren’t like the men who kidnapped me. So that makes them a pretty good bet.”
“Hmm.”
That was that. Lana could tell Jillie had an attitude. Maybe things at work sucked, as they always seemed to for Jillie.
“Hard day at work?” Lana asked.
“Ridiculous day. My boss is a pain in the ass. Everybody in that accounting firm is a pain in the ass. Makes me want to quit, but I can’t. Brian and I just can’t afford it. Not and make sure Jen and Ricky have what they need for school, play soccer, all that stuff.”
It was the same story today as it was any other day. Jillie complained regularly. Jillie’s executive assistant job came with challenges, especially of the co-worker type. Her husband Brian’s job as an engineer probably brought in a decent salary, but Lana didn’t know. She wasn’t nosy or rude. She didn’t plan to ask how much income their family had. From Lana’s point of view, Jillie’s family didn’t seem to be in dire straits, and Jillie had saved enough to take that ill-fated trip to Costa Rica. She’d known Jillie long enough now to realize the woman had a complaint button that was easily activated.
Fifteen minutes later, after enduring heavy traffic on the highway, Jillie pulled into a parking space at Lana’s apartment complex. Lana gave Jillie money for gas. It was the least she could do to thank her.
“Honey, you don’t need to do that,” Jillie said.
“Yes, I do. You’ve been driving me around ever since we got back from Costa Rica. I think tomorrow I’m going to drive to the grocery store.”
Jillie looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“Absolu
tely sure. If that goes well, I’ll drive myself Thursday night to group therapy.”
Jillie’s expression stayed skeptical. “Okay.”
Lana pressed her friend’s arm. “Really, I’ll be fine.”
“You need to ease yourself into this very slowly.”
“I understand. I think four months is plenty slow, don’t you?”
“Maybe.” Jillie stared at her as if she had lost the last cog in the wheel. “Did your therapist clear you to drive?”
“No. But the therapist isn’t my mommy. She said I should try driving whenever I feel strong enough. I feel strong enough.”
Liar. Liar. Truthfully, how could she know whether she was strong enough until she tried it?
“If you say so. Well, I’d better get home before the kids and husband tear up the kitchen looking for something to eat.”
After Jillie left, Lana hurried toward her apartment. While she’d been okay standing outside the therapy building talking to Aaron MacPherson, she suddenly found herself growing short of breath. The first sign of a bit of panic. She walked faster down the sidewalk, past the covered parking where her car sat. She would drive tomorrow. She had to cut the apron strings with Jillie someday. Lana had realized some time ago that Jillie was a bit overbearing. Relying on her heavily in the last few months had proven that.
She took the stairs up to her second-floor apartment, a two bedroom she’d rented for close to ten years. A very long time to stay in an apartment. Time to reevaluate apartment living and consider a house. Her mother would tell her to stop making so many new choices, to take it easy and stay safe. She’d tried that and something bad…Costa Rica…had happened anyway.
Before There Was You Page 3
