Breaking Free

by Teresa Reasor

  She had to get the manager to go back up with her and check the apartment.

  They’d be gone by then. Thank God. But how had they gotten in?

  The sock hung heavily against her side. Thank God she hadn’t had to use it.

  CHAPTER 6

  Lieutenant Commander Jackson eyed Hawk over the report he held, his features taut with a frown. Silence, tense and oppressive, stretched between them.

  “So you’re certain of Flash’s position outside the building?”

  Jackson asked.

  Hawk forced his clenched fists open and rested his hands on his thighs. “Yes, sir. He was monitoring the movements of the tangos from the exterior and signaling us on the radio.”

  “Where was Ensign O’Connor?”

  “His duty was to set charges at the North corner of the build, bottom floor. He finished, exited the building and signaled.”

  “But you didn’t see him exit the building.”

  “No, sir.”

  “And Ensign Rivera?”

  “Bottom floor, back room, South corner.”

  “Ensign Armstrong?”

  “Bottom floor, back room, South East corner. And Ensign

  Weaver had the North West corner. I had the middle two rooms and the stairs.”

  “And you finished ahead of the others?”

  “I got inside ahead of the others by a few minutes. I exited the building out a side window and took up a position across the street beneath the wall of a bombed out building there.”

  “Ensign Carney backs that up.”

  Hawk nodded. “Flash was acting radio man and was positioned on the roof of one of the buildings diagonal to the target.”

  “He observed the operation--including Ensign Weaver’s rescue.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “From his testimony, and the other men’s, you should receive a commendation for saving Ensign Weaver’s life.”

  Hawk raised one brow. A commendation hadn’t played into his actions. It wouldn’t help Cutter walk out of the hospital a whole man.

  “Was there any bad blood between Weaver and any of the men in the team?” Jackson continued.

  “Not that I’m aware of, sir.”

  “Armstrong and O’Connor were the last two out and Rivera just minutes before.”

  “Yes, sir. Armstrong raised the alarm, and O’Connor worked like a mad man to keep Weaver alive until we could reach the extraction point. Rivera and Carney helped me walk every step of the way there. Shaker guarded our back door. He’d taken out two tangos before we withdrew and two more during the extraction. We worked as a team, sir.”

  “Then what happened to Weaver inside that room, Lieutenant?” Jackson’s voice took on an impatient tone.

  There had been no debris around him. No sign of the weapon used to bash in his skull. There’d been no time to look. And they couldn’t exactly return to the scene and investigate the evidence now that the building was toast. “I don’t know, sir.”

  Jackson closed the report and tossed the manila folder aside. He rose and folded his arms.

  Hawk followed suit coming to parade rest.

  “Officially we’re going to list this as an accident. But unofficially this will hang over every man’s head in your team until we find out what happened, Lieutenant. Because you were the leader of the mission, it will hang over yours as well.”

  Having it spoken straight out had the knot in Hawk’s gut tightening. In other words it could affect his promotion possibilities. For himself. For his team. “I understand, sir.”

  “These men know you, trust you. I’m expecting you to find out what the hell’s going on with them. I want this shit squared away. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Hawk kept his expression under control as a quick spike of renewed anger roiled inside his gut. Who ever had hurt Cutter had succeeded in injuring the whole team in the process.

  For a few moments Jackson’s gaze continued to bore into him.

  With an impatient twitch of his shoulders he breathed, “Dismissed.”

  ****

  Hawk straightened his knee, pushing against the pressure the therapist put on the bottom of his foot. The joint remained a little tender but he completed the exercises the therapist put him through with ease. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d be able to start some light training in a few weeks to work off some of this frustration. Not that it would do much good if he couldn’t discover what had happened to Cutter.

  God damn, Jackson. He fought to shove back the anger and resentment the man had triggered.

  “You’re doing very well,” the therapist said.

  He’d probably do better if it were Zoe massaging his knee, instead of a guy with black hair on the back of his hands. The instant reaction the thought provoked had him sucking air through his teeth. He needed a distraction and she certainly provided it.

  “You’re not overusing the joint, are you?”

  “No.” He shook his head. Zoe and her mother took care of the household chores and shopping. The inactivity was driving him crazy. With nothing else to focus on, he remained hyper alert to everything Zoe did. Zoe reading. Zoe snacking on an apple and licking the juice from her lips. Zoe sleeping on the lounge on the back porch her cheeks flushed, her features relaxed, and vulnerable, and so damned beautiful. Watching her do the most mundane things could spark off that hot gut wrenching need.

  He twisted his attention back to the exercise the therapist led him through. Once his knee was back in shape he’d be able to drive again and find distractions outside the house. He had to pursue the answers he needed from his men.

  With his therapy concluded, he caught the elevator to the third floor. Exiting the elevator, he saw Zoe as she walked just ahead of him down the hallway to Brett’s room. The brace she had strapped around the lower half of her leg this morning offered her support, but made her gait stiffer and more awkward. It didn’t detract from the rounded curve of her buttocks, though. She had the most perfectly shaped ass he’d ever seen--among other things.

  He called to her and she turned, a canned soft drink clutched in her hand.

  The strain he read in her expression had him quickening his pace.

  “How did your therapy go?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Good. One of your men is here.”

  Seeing nothing unusual in the occurrence he raised a brow in inquiry.

  “Ensign Armstrong.”

  “Yeah. Derrick’s been on leave ever since we hit stateside. Some kind of family emergency.”

  She reached for the handle of the door, but he grasped it first and opened it for her.

  When he saw the two of them, Derrick paused in mid-sentence as he spoke to Angela, Brett’s day nurse, and rose to his feet.

  “Strong Man, how’d the trip go? Everything all right?” he inquired as he extended a hand.

  Dressed in his winter blues, the man’s muscular bulk was evident as he shifted his body to shake hands. Derrick’s obsession with weight lifting was well known among the team. He had obviously been pumping iron to recover the definition he’d lost while out of the country.

  “Yeah, everything worked out. My sister had her baby, prematurely. She’s going to be all right, but the baby will have to stay in the neonatal unit for a while. They think he’ll be okay though.”

  “You’re a new uncle. Where’s my cigar?”

  Derrick smiled. “Hey, good idea. I’ll have to pick up a box to give out to the team.”

  “They didn’t have any bottled water.” Zoe extended the soft drink to Derrick and he smiled.

  “That’s all right.” He focused on Hawk. “I just got off the plane from Louisiana and came straight here. Couldn’t get an attendant’s attention long enough to get a drink before touchdown.” He popped the top on the drink. “Got a cup?”

  Zoe crossed to the bedside and returned with a plastic cup wrapped in cellophane. She unwrapped it, careful not to touch the lip.

  “I don’t
normally drink anything with caffeine or sugar,” Strong Man said as he poured the liquid into the cup. “I’ll share with you,” he extended the can to Zoe.

  “No thank you.” Her stilted tone had Hawk studying her expression.

  Though shorter by several inches, Derrick gave the impression of being taller than he was because of the width of his shoulders and the thickness of his arms. His blond haired, blue-eyed good looks usually drew flirtatious smiles from the fairer sex, not the wariness Zoe exhibited.

  “I have to get back to my other patients,” Angela said. “May I speak with you for a moment out in the hall, Zoe?”

  Surprising him, Zoe slipped an arm around his waist and leaned against his side. It seemed natural to curve an arm about her waist in response.

  “Why don’t you have a seat and rest your knee? You and Ensign Armstrong can catch up while I stretch my legs,” she said as she rested a palm against his chest.

  With the softness of her breast pressing into his ribs, and the graceful curve of her waist beneath his hand, he experienced more than a little regret when she pulled away and left the room.

  His attention focused back on Derrick. The words, “What the hell did you say to her?” were on the tip of his tongue as Armstrong handed him the pop can and said, “Cutter didn’t mention he had a sister that hot.”

  A surge of irritation had him wanting to grind his teeth. “Brothers don’t normally think of their sisters in those terms.”

  “I guess not. Something weird’s going down here, LT. Ms. Weaver’s been looking at me like I’ve got horns and a forked tail ever since I got here. Had she not said you’d show up soon, I‘d have already bugged out.”

  “What do you think is going on?” He asked.

  “Something’s going on with Cutter. They kept checking him.”

  Concerned, Hawk rose to his feet to stand next to Brett’s bed. It gave him a queasy feeling each time he saw the other man lying so still. He studied Brett’s features carefully and scanned the monitors, but didn’t recognize a change in their readings.

  Derrick joined him there. “All the way back, I kept telling myself he’d be awake by the time I got here. Jesus--I can’t believe he’s still out of it.” He raked a hand through his hair, his features creased with worry and frustration.

  A red spot on the unconscious man’s cheek drew Hawk’s attention and he turned Brett’s face to the light. A handprint stood out in stark relief.

  An instant feeling of outrage and anger surged through him. “Son of a Bitch! Someone’s slapped him.”

  Derrick stared at him, his lips parted in shock. “They think it was me.” His voice had a flat quality. “That’s why they were both looking at me like that.” He shook his head adamantly. “No way, LT. I’ve been Brett’s swim buddy since BUDS. I’ve covered his back ever since. I wouldn’t smack him around, especially now. God! Look at him, he’s completely helpless.” Derrick’s features took on a pinched look.

  Hawk found it hard not to believe he was telling the truth.

  “Hold on. I’ll go get Zoe and Angela and we’ll talk this out.”

  “They should have said something to me, so I could set them straight,” Derrick said, anger beginning to overtake his defensive tone.

  Hawk stepped outside the room. Angela and Zoe stood at the end of the hall their heads close together. They started walking toward him when they saw him.

  “Derrick and I need to talk with you and Angela,” he said, holding the door wide. The two women filed back into the room. “We’ve just noticed that someone has left a handprint on Brett’s face.”

  “I’d only arrived five minutes before you got here,” Derrick jumped in; his attention honed in on Zoe like a heat seeking missile. “I know that would be enough time for me to have done it, but I didn’t. I swear to you, I didn’t. Cutter is my swim buddy. We cover each other’s backs. We always have. We may grab ass around, and punch each other, and do the male bonding thing, but I wouldn’t lay a hand on him now that’s he’s---like he is.” Two bright spots of color burnt in his cheeks and he nearly vibrated with outrage.

  “Was there anyone out in the hall when you first arrived, Derrick?” Hawk asked.

  “No. The nurses were down at the nurses’ station, doing whatever they do there. I didn’t see anyone else around. I just came in and went up to the bed. Cutter didn’t respond when I talked to him, so I knew he was either drugged, or he still hadn’t come around. I was about to go out and ask the nurses at the station about him, when Ms. Weaver came in and filled me in on what was going on.” Derrick’s attention swung from Zoe to Angela and back again. “I didn’t touch him.”

  “Chill out, Derrick,” Hawk said as he laid a hand on the other man’s shoulder. He had to calm him down or he’d allow his defensiveness to cloud the issue. This situation pertained to Brett not him.

  “There are security cameras on this floor aren’t there?” he asked Angela.

  “Sure.”

  “Show me where they’re placed.”

  Hawk and Angela went out into the hall.

  Zoe remained beside Brett. The anger and disbelief she had first experienced on discovering her brother had been assaulted had passed. Fear now lay like a cold stone in the pit of her stomach.

  Had the man outside of Brett’s apartment really been watching her? Was it possible that man had been Derrick Armstrong? All she’d seen was blonde hair. Had someone really been in the apartment or had it been her imagination? There’d been no sign of anyone when she’d returned with a security guard to check the apartment. No sign of any disturbance.

  If it wasn’t Ensign Armstrong who had left the mark on Brett’s face, it had to be someone else who had access to the base. That left the rest of his SEAL team buddies, and anyone else who applied for a visitor’s pass.

  It was a slap this time, what might be done next? Anyone who would abuse a comatose patient was capable of anything.

  Leaning over the railing of the bed, she laid her head down on the pillow next to her brother’s and soothed the red marks on his cheek with her fingertips. Tears ran across her nose into the pillow as the feelings of pain and grief she had been suppressing welled up to overwhelm her. What was going on here? Who would want to hurt her brother?

  “Hey, Ms. Weaver. We’re going to take care of this. No one’s going to mess with Cutter again,” Derrick said from behind her, a panicky edge to his voice. “We’ll find out who it was, and then, he’ll be toast, I promise.”

  She kissed Brett’s cheek and moved to hold him. His forehead lay warm against her cheek, his beard coarse beneath her fingers as she stroked his face. The life and vitality he exuded when conscious made it painful to see him as he appeared now. He had taken on the lifelessness of the cardboard cutouts candidates sometimes posted during elections.

  “Please wake up, Brett, please,” she pleaded.

  The door behind her opened and closed softly.

  Drawing on her shaky reserves, Zoe fought to suppress her emotions and stemmed the flow of tears. She had wiped her eyes and blown her nose by the time Hawk returned with Ensign Armstrong and Angela in tow.

  His limp didn’t dilute the air of command Hawk wore so effortlessly. She drew comfort from knowing he had taken charge of the situation.

  He gave her a searching once over then said, “Angela has alerted security. One security camera has a straight shot at anyone getting off the elevator. The one at the end of the hall will have caught anyone coming from the stairwell from the other direction. The stairs stay locked, so they more than likely got off the elevator, but we’ll have to wait and see.”

  “I’ve seen the stairwell door propped open several times late at night. I assumed it was one of the staff slipping downstairs for a smoke.” She folded her arms against her waist to cover her trembling. “I’d like Brett to have a thorough examination to make sure the welt on his cheek is the only injury he’s sustained.”

  “I’ve notified Captain Connelly, and he’s on his way,” A
ngela said.

  She nodded. “I appreciate it.” She turned her attention to Derrick Armstrong. He had seen her at her most vulnerable. She had been eyeing him like a criminal. She supposed that balanced things out in some way.

  “You never said what your sister’s baby was.”

  “A boy,” he answered, his features tense.

  “How much did he weigh?”

  “Four pounds.”

  “He was tiny.” She forced a smile to her lips she hoped looked natural. “What did they name him?”

  “Adam.”

  Her attention shifted to Hawk. “You have a namesake.”

  “Yeah, how ‘bout that.”

  She moistened her lips. “I don’t believe you hurt my brother, Ensign Armstrong.” Her throat tightened with more tears and she swallowed.

  “Thanks.” Derrick shifted from one foot to the other. “I suppose, if I’d been in your shoes, I’d have been suspicious too.”

  “As soon as we get a look at the security tapes, we’ll know who was in Brett’s room before Derrick arrived,” Hawk said.” Then we’ll deal with them.”

  “I doubt security will let you see the tapes, Lieutenant,” Angela said.

  “We’ll see.”

  His tone had Zoe taking a good look at him. His pale gray eyes looked flat and cold. The leashed fury she read beneath his features sent a shiver down Zoe’s spine. She had thought he’d be scary when angered. She hadn’t guessed the half of it.

  CHAPTER 7

  Clara met them at the door as they entered the house, her features tense with worry. “Turner called half an hour ago. Sharon started hemorrhaging. He rushed her to the hospital. They’re doing a C-section. They don’t know about the baby yet.” she raked her fingers through her bangs. Two suitcases sat next to the front door.

  The news hit Zoe like a physical blow. She closed her eyes for a moment as instant tears threatened. The hits just kept coming.

  “I’ve got a flight out in an hour. I’ve called a cab because I wasn’t sure you’d be back in time to take me to the airport.”