by A. J. Quinn
“No arguments. Just some basic rules of engagement. You’re going to lean on me, keep your weight off your right leg, and take small, slow steps all the way to the bathroom. You’re still quite weak and I don’t want you to risk undoing all the progress you’ve made.”
The urge to protest came and went. Instead, a hiss of pain escaped Evan’s lips as she leaned heavily against the doctor, a tacit agreement. But there was one more thing. She swallowed, licked her lip, considering. “Could I ask one more thing?”
The doctor waited in silence for her to speak.
“Do you suppose you could call me Evan? Khalid…he only ever called me Commander and just hearing it makes me…” She shuddered.
“That won’t be a problem, Evan,” came the soft reply. “I’m Kelsey.”
The pain in her leg made it difficult just to stand, and Evan struggled not to groan when they began to move. Baby steps. Slow and laborious. Kelsey offered to get a wheelchair, but Evan stubbornly refused to give in. Breathing through the pain, she quickly recognized she would only make progress if she let the doctor take most of her weight as they made their way.
“Are you all right?”
Evan gritted her teeth and held herself rigid, but it was taking all her energy just to breathe in and out. “I’m good.” Trying not to throw up.
“Really?”
“Really.” Evan’s voice grew more strained. “Especially if I ignore the fact that every inch of my body is screaming like a girl.”
Her comment was greeted by a muffled laugh. “I suppose I should refrain from pointing out the obvious.”
In that moment, Evan discovered she had some life left in her after all. She laughed out loud even though she promptly regretted it. “Ah, Jesus, please don’t make me laugh.” She made a small, choked sound. “Right now, I’m trying to convince myself I’m still a Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy. You know…strong, disciplined, fit. But damn. Everything hurts.”
“Deep, regular breaths, Evan. And try to relax.”
“Easy for you to say.”
By the time they reached the bathroom less than twenty feet away, Evan was in a world of pain. Emotionally and physically exhausted, she leaned against Kelsey gratefully. An instant later, the breath she’d been holding shuddered out.
“Oh Jesus.”
She raised one hand uncertainly and pushed the limp, too-long bangs back from her face in horror as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. A gaunt stranger stared back at her. Dark multicolored bruises marred her face and neck, while both of her eyes still showed signs of having recently been blackened. Swallowing painfully, she slowly lowered the hospital gown, but the story didn’t get any better. Every inch of skin she revealed was covered in cuts and abrasions.
“Oh God.” She remained rigid for a moment. Not moving, not even breathing. “Shit, Kelsey, my family…Tate…they’ve all seen me looking like this. I’ve seen roadkill that looks better than me.”
“Your family understands, Evan.” Kelsey made a sympathetic sound. “I know it looks bad, but believe me when I say you look a lot better than you did when you first arrived.”
Evan touched her face with one hand and winced as she continued to stare into the mirror. “Is that even remotely possible?”
“Not only possible, it’s the truth. And in a few more days, you’ll start to recognize the face in the mirror. I promise.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Evan said. She broke off, closed her eyes, and in the lengthening silence felt herself fade.
“They worked you over pretty good. Does that account for all of your injuries?”
“No.” The question caught her by surprise and she made an effort to pull herself back. “I’m pretty sure I had some kind of head injury”—she absently rubbed her forehead—“that goes back to when I got shot down.”
Evan felt the gentle pressure of Kelsey’s gaze and realized the doctor was waiting for more of an explanation. She shrugged apologetically. “I took a blow to the head,” she said. “Or at least I think that’s what happened. Something shattered my visor and dented my helmet not long after the canopy blew. Dented my head too, but my recall after that’s a little fuzzy. I think I got hit by a piece of debris from my aircraft—or maybe it was something from Deacon’s. Impossible to tell, really. I was already on the ground by the time I regained consciousness, but it meant I had a less than controlled landing and somehow buggered up my knee.”
“How long were you unconscious?”
“No idea. I was—”
“Unconscious, I know.”
“Right. It wasn’t too long before we were captured, and after that…” The thought of Khalid caused a darkness to pass over her, like a cloud occluding the sun. Her hands began to shake and she felt dangerously close to crying. She could feel her eyes sting, her throat burn. But there was no release because she never cried. She was, after all, a Kane.
Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her dry, burning eyes and tried to pull some of her normal self-assurance back around her. She almost succeeded. But then she started to shake again. It started slowly, faintly, and then grew in intensity until she was trembling uncontrollably. Kelsey would probably tell her it was a normal enough response. A physiological reaction. But knowing it was normal didn’t make her reaction any more tolerable. She tried wrapping her arms around her body. Images flashed in her mind. Quick and harsh, one after another, and she couldn’t get them to stop.
“I can’t breathe,” she whispered, doubling over, gasping with a sudden primal need for air.
Kelsey’s arms came around her, strong and comforting, holding her trembling body with a surprising gentleness. Her touch stroked Evan’s scattered emotions, and she struggled against the impulse to bury her face against the doctor’s strong shoulder, wanting to hide away from the horrifying memories that had slipped to the surface while she wasn’t looking.
But there was no place to hide.
Kelsey continued to hold her until her erratic heartbeat slowed its racing tempo. Until the tension began to ebb from her body. Briefly Evan wondered how long she could stay in this cocoon, while another part of her simply wanted to run away.
She wouldn’t, of course. She was stronger than that. A Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy. Robert and Althea Kane’s daughter. She just needed a few minutes to pull herself together.
Lifting her head, she met Kelsey’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.” She felt her face heat, but Kelsey remained silent. Watching her, but not saying a word.
Evan straightened awkwardly. Feeling exposed and uncertain, vulnerable, she closed her eyes, effectively shutting the doctor out. But with her eyes closed, she was once again plagued by recollections.
Tate’s hands on her body.
Khalid’s fist striking her face.
She tried not to recoil. Remembered that during the past four months, she’d become adept at disappearing, mentally and emotionally. She had used it as a pain-coping mechanism, letting her mind drift free until there was nothing left of her, until she could find oblivion.
With her eyes still closed, she gathered the darkness around her, waited for the Zen-like calm to envelop her. A moment later she found herself standing on the deck of a sailboat, cutting through the crystal-blue waters of the Mediterranean. Overhead, the sky was cloudless, a vast and endless blue. The sun was warm on her face, the wind teased her hair, and only the creak of the mast, the snap of the sails, and the waves slapping against the hull intruded on the blissful silence.
*
“Evan…”
Evan shuddered and slowly raised her head. Became aware her mind had wandered off to a beautiful place. Gradually she recognized she was still in a military hospital in Germany and Kelsey was still there. Still watching her.
“I’m sorry,” she said but wasn’t sure why.
“Don’t worry about it.” Kelsey watched her a moment longer. “Is that how you did it, Evan?”
“Did
what?”
“Survive what they did to you. Did you close your eyes and dream yourself away?”
Evan couldn’t help but smile. “That’s pretty astute of you. Or does the mind reading come as part of the medical degree?”
“Of course.” Kelsey smiled back.
In that moment, any thought of protest or denial died. “The answer to your question is yes, I guess. I suppose I would dream myself to anywhere but where I was whenever I could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible all the time. But even half the time was certainly better than the painful reality I found myself in.”
“You really need to talk to someone about what happened to you,” Kelsey said softly. “You know that, don’t you?”
The gentle voice insinuated itself in Evan’s lacerated psyche, and she felt it soothe her even as her throat tightened with regret. “Yes, but all in good time. Just not right now.”
“Fair enough. I’m guessing you’ll also need to have a serious conversation with Tate before too long.”
Evan’s shoulders tensed, her back burned, and she shifted restlessly as a shaft of remembered pain shot through her. Knowing Kelsey was right didn’t make things any easier. She moistened her lips before finally meeting her gaze. “That conversation will definitely have to wait until I have some idea how to approach it.”
“Do you think you’ll be going home with your parents when we release you?”
Evan thought about it for a moment, then shook her head and shrugged. “Actually, I’ve no idea where I’m going, but I strongly doubt it’ll be to my parents’ home. For far too many reasons.”
“Okay, let’s approach this differently. What would you have done if you hadn’t been shot down?”
“Four months ago? I planned on staying with Tate in Bahrain. Maybe convince her to take a holiday with me while I figured out what I was going to do in my post-navy life. At the time, I had a couple of ideas floating in my head. Now, suffice to say I’m not really sure of anything.”
“As you said, all in good time,” Kelsey said, and there was a thoughtful expression on her face. “The reason I’m bringing it up is that like you, I’ve served my time and I’m due to go home soon. Depending on where you end up, my partner is a psychiatrist.”
“Your partner?”
Their eyes met for a brief moment before Kelsey continued. “Jenna. Dr. Jenna Nolan. She served in Iraq and has a private practice in Seattle. She gets a lot of referrals from the naval base on the peninsula and has extensive experience dealing with PTSD.”
Evan tensed and remained silent for a moment. “You’re suggesting I need to talk with her?”
“I’m suggesting what happened to you in Afghanistan is now a part of you, and Jenna—or someone like her—can help you deal with it,” Kelsey responded calmly. “And I’m offering to help if you ever find yourself out our way and want an introduction.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Good. Now let’s get you into the shower.”
Leaning on Kelsey, Evan allowed herself to be guided toward the shower while the implications of their conversation rained down around her. She sighed, and as her tension slowly ebbed, she lifted her gaze.
“Thanks, Kelsey,” she said softly.
Chapter Fifteen
It was late morning by the time Tate returned to the hospital. The sun was warm on her face, the sky was a deep and cloudless blue, and it promised to be a truly glorious day. The kind of day she would have reveled in under normal circumstances, perhaps dragging Evan along while she browsed through the many quaint alley boutiques Landstuhl had to offer, then stopping at one of the outdoor cafés for a glass of wine and some excellent people-watching. As they relaxed and watched tourists and locals pass by, Evan would inevitably provide humorous commentary. Tate would laugh and reach for Evan’s hand, amazed how she could never keep her hands to herself and wondering if she would always feel like this—in lust with Evan. Knowing the answer was yes.
But instead, she was hurrying toward the bank of elevators, irritated and with a frown on her face as she waited impatiently for one to arrive.
She had spent the night dreaming of Evan, and the memories surfacing out of the dream had left her wet and needy. She was annoyed with Kelsey Grant, who had refused to allow her to spend another night at the hospital, sleeping in the chair she had placed by Evan’s bed. The night before, Grant had casually mentioned her plan to get Evan out of bed in the morning and suggested Tate might want to be there to help her. But before Tate could become too excited by the prospect, the doctor had one caveat. Tate needed to get a good night’s sleep, away from the hospital, so she could be refreshed and alert.
Tate had argued that Evan was better served having her stay close. The nights seemed to be particularly difficult for her, and Tate’s presence—her voice, her touch—seemed to help Evan ward off the nightmares she slipped into all too frequently.
But the doctor had held her ground, and Tate had conceded she could use a break.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t planned for what had happened. By the time she stumbled back to the hotel, her eyes were nearly closed. Mumbling good night to Alex and Nick, she entered her room, kicked off her shoes, and fell facedown across the bed. She was asleep in seconds. And whether from exhaustion or an adrenaline crash wasn’t relevant. What mattered was she forgot to set her alarm.
She awoke hours later to the unhappy realization she’d overslept. She couldn’t believe it. Worse, she couldn’t believe Alex had allowed it to happen, this morning of all mornings. Even if she’d slept like the dead, as he cheerfully pointed out, because it was exactly what her body demanded.
On a day when she had wanted to be at the hospital early, knowing he was right didn’t alter the facts, and it was almost ten o’clock by the time she was showered and dressed.
The hospital room was deserted by the time she got there. Tate heard the door softly close behind her while she stared at the neatly made bed and tried to make sense out of what she was seeing. The IV hookup was gone. So were the monitors that had kept track of Evan’s progress. Only the profusion of fragrant flowers remained as a silent reminder Evan had been there.
Knowing it was irrational, knowing there was no reason to think Evan had taken a turn for the worse, didn’t stop the sudden trickle of uneasiness blossoming in Tate’s chest. Fighting to contain the echoes of remembered pain, she turned to leave just as the door opened.
Evan stood there, leaning awkwardly on a set of crutches, attempting to maneuver around the door and maintain her balance while wearing a brand new wrist brace. Her brow was furrowed and the tip of her tongue poked out as she concentrated.
It was a sight Tate knew she would never grow tired of seeing. The first—the only—miracle she would ever need in her life. Releasing a soft sigh, she allowed herself the pleasure of simply looking at Evan, adding to the images already stored in her memory.
This morning there were noteworthy changes. Evan’s hair, clean and shining, was gathered in a loose knot piled high on her head, stray wisps falling against her face, and she was wearing the clothes Alex had left for her the previous evening. Better still, for the first time since pulling her out of Afghanistan, Tate thought Evan looked bright and alert, and the lines carved by pain had begun to ease from her face.
The downside? The T-shirt and sweatpants riding low on her hips did little to hide how thin she was. Nor did the clothing conceal the crisscrossed cuts on her arm. And although the healing process was well underway, the livid marks left no doubt they had been deliberately made.
Tate bit back a flash of rage along with a desire to go back to Afghanistan. To find and hurt the bastard who had done this to Evan.
The emotions startled her. Not the fierce protectiveness, but the desire for revenge. It was not only out of character, she knew the rage she was feeling would do little to help Evan heal and move beyond whatever she’d experienced at the hands of her captors. Struggling to contain her anger, Tate concentrated instead o
n how the sweatpants had slid dangerously downward, revealing an enticing bit of skin.
She must have made a sound because Evan looked up at that moment and saw her. The frown disappeared, and a slow, disarming smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. The smile was all it took to chase every vengeful thought out of Tate’s head.
It was the kind of smile that could shatter hearts.
Or make them whole again.
“Hey, beautiful lady. I was wondering when you’d come along.”
Her voice was still hoarse, still sounded weak, but it didn’t matter. Tate hadn’t realized how much she’d missed just the sound of it. After months with nothing more than memories to hold on to, Evan’s simple greeting rocked her. It breathed life into her, permeating her dormant senses.
She found herself needing to touch Evan, if only to make certain she was real. But she buried that along with other needs fighting to be released. Slowly letting out a breath, she shook her head and grinned, drawing pleasure from the strength of the ever present electrical current she could feel running between them.
Tipping her head back, she met Evan’s gaze. “Hey, yourself. It’s terrific to see you up and moving around. But what’s with the brace on your wrist? Can’t I trust you on your own for just one night?”
She watched Evan stare down at her wrist for an instant, her eyes widening in mock surprise as if seeing the bright blue brace for the very first time. But when she lifted her head to meet Tate’s eyes once again, it was with an unmistakable look of humor on her face. For the first time since leaving Afghanistan, the dimples in her cheeks were in full evidence, and a genuine grin flickered and spread across her expressive mouth.
Having Evan’s mouth so close, so tempting, nearly proved to be Tate’s undoing. Her throat tightened, and any questions she might have entertained were forgotten as she completely lost her train of thought.
There were women, she knew, who were first attracted by another woman’s eyes. Still others who were invariably drawn to various parts of the female anatomy. Breasts or legs or a sweet heart-shaped derriere. Tate could appreciate all those things, but when it came right down to it, she knew she would always be drawn to a woman’s mouth. Especially a mouth made for long, slow, deep kisses.
