Breaking Free

by Teresa Reasor

  She clawed at the hand covering her mouth. The words don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me jetted through her mind in a scream. Her feet struck a piece of furniture. She braced them and pushed. The man grunted as he staggered and hit the wall. His hand dislodged for a second.

  Before she could draw breath to scream, he shoved her. Zoe hit the back of a waist high chair or couch, the momentum thrusting her over it in a flip. Her cheek skidded across the fabric of the cushions. She threw up an arm to protect her head as she rolled off into the floor. Her weak leg crashed into something wood. Pain shot through the limb, stealing her breath. White spots swam in her vision. The apartment door was jerked open. The florescent bulbs in the hall speared the room with light then the door slammed shut again.

  Running feet pounded in the hall, then retreated into silence.

  Nausea rolled over her with a force of a tsunami. A cold sweat misted her skin and she retched, one, two, three times. Nothing came up, her stomach too empty to produce anything but dry heaves. Her leg throbbed like an abscessed tooth making every movement agony. She curled into herself and shivered in reaction.

  “Please God, don’t let it be broken,” she moaned as she pushed herself up to a sitting position and leaned back against the chair she had flipped over. She swallowed as a fresh wave of nausea made her stomach pitch.

  The door shook as someone pounded on it from outside. “Hello--“ A male voice came through the barrier. “Is everything all right in there?” The knob turned and the door swung open as though in slow motion. The hall lights illuminated a dark silhouette in the opening. A man.

  Where was he when I needed him?

  “Please call 911,” she said, her voice shaky and weak.

  “Jesus Christ!” The light flashed on and she blinked at the familiar face. Bracing a hand on the back of the couch Bowie leaped over it and came to kneel beside her.

  ****

  “God damn it!” Hawk flipped his cell phone shut and tossed it on the couch. Zoe’s refusal to answer hers was driving him crazy. It had been hours since she’d left. He needed to know she was all right. Needed in a stomach clenching, head pounding, throat aching bad way. A hollow feeling had settled in his chest that refused to let up. As he slumped on the couch and cradled his head in his hands, he had, for the first time in years, an urge to--no he wasn’t going there. Men didn’t go there.

  His phone rang, and he snatched it. Disappointment punched through his system as he read the number on the screen. “Hello.“

  “You need to get over here to Scripps Mercy,” Bowie said, his tone terse. “Zoe’s been checked out, and they’re trying to talk her into letting them admit her, but she’s determined to leave.”

  Hawk leapt to his feet, every muscle tensing for action. “What’s happened? Is she hurt?”

  A beat of silence followed and when Bowie spoke his tone was subdued. “Yeah, she’s hurt.”

  “I’m on my way. Keep talking.” Hawk grabbed his keys from the dish in the hall, the phone pressed to his ear. He slammed the door behind him and stalked to the car. His heart beat in his ears so loud he had trouble hearing Bowie as he continued.

  “Some asshole broke into Brett’s apartment. She walked in on him. He flipped her over a chair, and she hit her leg, the one that’s---you know. They’ve x-rayed it, and it’s not broken, but they still want her to stay overnight, just to be sure there’s no further damage.”

  “Did she get a look at the guy?”

  “No. He’d pulled all the drapes, and it was a total blackout in the apartment. The cops were there when she left in the ambulance.”

  “Fuck!” Hawk backed out of the driveway. “Keep her there, I’m on my way.”

  ****

  “You need to stay, Zoe,” Bowie said.

  It was the tenth time he’d said it. Now that the pain in her leg had settled down to a dull throb, Zoe wasn’t buying it. She’d had enough of hospitals to last her a lifetime. “I hit my leg, and it’s not broken. I’ll do fine with the crutches. I’ll follow up with the doctor the ER guy recommended, and I’ll be fine.” Please God let the leg be fine.

  She wiggled off the edge of the hospital bed and balanced on one foot while she looped her purse over her head to hang across her body to her hip. The strap hit the fabric burn on her cheek and she flinched. She touched it gingerly, checking the ointment the nurse had applied. “I need to get back and see what’s happening at Brett’s apartment.” She adjusted the crutches beneath her arms.

  Bowie frowned. “We’re supposed to wait for you to ride down in a wheelchair.”

  “I’m good to go, and I’m not waiting.”

  Bowie threw up a hand in supplication. “I’m seeing a new side of you that reminds me of Cutter.”

  “Is that so surprising?”

  He grinned. “No.” The smile faded quickly. “Aren’t you going to call Hawk, and let him know what’s happened?”

  She concentrated on putting the paperwork and pain medication the nurse had given her into her purse. “That would be redundant, since you’ve already done it.”

  He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Look, I don’t know what’s gone wrong between you, but he deserved to know you were here.”

  Zoe drew a deep breath as all the things she could say whipped through her mind. What happened is he stomped all over my heart. He didn’t want my love. He’s gone from wanting to let my family know we’re a couple, to telling me it was all a mistake.

  “It isn’t important to anyone but me, Bowie. I don’t intend to put you in the middle. What happened between Hawk and me stays between us.” It hurt to draw breath, but her voice sounded only a little---strangled. “Now, I’d appreciate a ride to the apartment, and if that’s inconvenient, I can call a cab.”

  Bowie sighed. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve got it covered.”

  In her peripheral vision, she saw his hand hovering just within reach of her arm the first few swings she took with the crutches. “I’ve had years of practice with these. The only thing I don’t like to do is go down stairs.”

  “Good thing they only have elevators here,” Bowie said.

  “Yeah.”

  They stood in front of the elevator.

  Bowie snagged her arm when the door opened. “Look, Hawk is on his way. Stay just long enough for him to see for himself you’re ambulatory.”

  All the things Hawk had said to her, all the pain he’d dealt her because of it, rose up to give her heart a painful squeeze. Tears blurred her vision. She concentrated on the tile beneath her feet instead. “I can’t do that, Bowie. I’m not ready to see him again, yet. Please call him and tell him not to bother coming.”

  She caught the edge of the elevator door with the end of her crutch before it closed. It slid back open. She propelled herself inside.

  Bowie breathed an expletive and stepped inside. “If you want him called, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

  Then he’d make an unnecessary trip. She wasn’t calling him.

  When she didn’t make a move to get her cell phone from her purse, Bowie swore again. A half dozen people filtered into the conveyance from the next floor keeping him from making any comment.

  The doors opened on the lobby level and they waited for the others to exit. “You at least owe him a phone call, Zoe.”

  “I’m not getting into who owes who. Stay out of it, Bowie.”

  She swung forward.

  They caught another elevator to the parking structure attached to the hospital. “Stay here and I’ll get the car,” Bowie said. He strode up the paved incline.

  Zoe’s hands gripped the crutches. The air, moist and cool enveloped her. Standing alone, an exaggerated vulnerability swept over her. The distance between the floor and ceiling appeared to narrow. Her chest constricted, and it grew difficult to breathe. Her good leg struggled to hold her weight. Delayed reaction. Anxiety. That’s all it was. She’d be okay.

  The doors behind her opened and she bit back a yelp, startled by the
sudden sound.

  Hawk stepped out of the elevator, along with a man and woman. The couple hustled past and moved up the incline.

  Relief drained Zoe’s fear away, and for a moment she continued to stare at Hawk. The need to feel his arms around her struck her with such physical longing she began to shake.

  Hawk’s stare pinned her as his long strides closed the distance between them. As he crowded close, heat radiated from his body. “Come back to the house with me, Zoe.”

  She turned away from the look of grave concern on his face. Her hands tightened on the crutch handles. “No thanks.” She looked up the row of cars to where Bowie had disappeared. Where was he?

  “Please, Zoe. Your safety is more important than what’s happened between us.”

  Nothing was more important than what had happened between them. Nothing. Every touch, every look, every word they had shared was everything. That’s what he didn’t get. “I don’t need you to protect me. I can buy locks, and guns for that. I don’t need you to provide a roof over my head. I have that covered. The one thing I needed from you, you say you can’t give me, so please--just leave.”

  Hawk rested a hand on her shoulder and she jerked away.

  “Zoe--I have to know you’re safe,“ Hawk said in a tone, nearly hoarse with emotion.

  Pain and anger gave her the courage to look up at him. “Why would that matter to you? If you go wheels up, and you’re seven thousand miles away, will you know if I’m sick, or hurt? Will I know if you are?”

  Hawk’s expression blanked for a second, then he flinched. “I promised your mom--“

  “To hell with that and to hell with you!” Had her hands been free, she’d have slapped him. “And to hell with Bowie for deserting me, just so you’d have time to ambush me.” She swung around and clomped her way back to the elevator.

  Bowie’s breaks squeaked as he pulled up in the car. The elevator door opened before Zoe. She got on and hit the close door button with the heel of her hand.

  ****

  Hawk rubbed a hand over his forehead where a dull ache throbbed just above his eyes. He had never told Zoe about his mother’s death. But she couldn’t have hit him with anything that hurt worse. He should have been there for his mother during her illness. He should have been with her when she died. He would have been, had he known she was so ill. Why hadn’t she sent for him? Because he’d been unreachable. She had died alone. Emotions sliced and diced his insides like a bloodthirsty sushi chef.

  Bowie approached him. He pulled his thoughts back to the current situation with an effort. “I’m parked out front of the hospital. She’ll catch a cab. I’ll follow her to the apartment. Can you give me a quick rundown of what happened?”

  “You know Cutter’s apartment is next to mine. My date and I had just finished dinner, when we heard a crash from inside there and some strange muffled noises. When the door slammed hard enough to shake the walls, and there was the sound of running in the hallway, so I thought I’d better check it out. That’s when I found Zoe. She was down, and hurt. I was afraid to move her. Sheila, my date, called nine-one-one from the hall, and we stayed with her until the police and the ambulance came. Sheila’s still at my apartment waiting for me to get back. I asked her to stick around. I asked her to listen in on the cops and see if she could pick up on anything.”

  So at least this time Bowie had an alibi. Some of the tension eased from Hawk’s shoulders. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to come up and see what she has to say myself,” he said.

  “Sure.” Bowie searched his face. “Zoe has a mad on that doesn’t quit, and a stubborn streak a mile wide. The ER doctor wanted to give her a shot, but she refused it. They gave her some oral pain meds, and she’s supposed to follow up with a doctor tomorrow.”

  Hawk nodded. The adrenaline rush he’d experienced after Bowie’s call had passed and his hands shook. He clenched them into fists. “I’ll see you back at the apartment building.”

  Bowie nodded. “I don’t suppose she’ll give me a pass on trying to give the two of you time to work things out, will she?”

  Now that he’d ended things with her, would Bowie try and make his move? And if he did, what right did Hawk have to say anything about it?

  The pain he’d read in her expression only moments before made his sudden jealousy seemed petty and foolish. Though it killed him, he said, “She won’t stay mad at you, Bowie.”

  “What about you, LT?”

  Hawk shook his head. “I’d better catch up to her. See you back at the apartment complex.”

  As soon as he was in the elevator on his way downstairs, his thoughts swung back to Zoe. He’d put her in direct danger without knowing it. He’d expected her to come back to the house, not catch a cab to Brett’s. He should have known when she didn’t answer her phone--

  By trying to do the right thing, he’d done the wrong thing? And now it was up to him to make it right.

  ****

  Hawk punched in Zoe’s number on his cell one more time, but it went to voice mail and he didn’t bother leaving another message. She wasn’t going to talk to him.

  He hit Langley Marks’ number.

  “Marks here.”

  “Lang. Do you remember who packed up Cutter’s stuff when we left Iraq?”

  “Strong Man and Flash had that detail. Flash and I dropped it at the apartment. The super was going to let him in but, Zoe and her mom were there already, so he left his duffle with them.”

  Had Zoe unpacked it or her mother? Had there been anything unusual in it? Damn it. If he hadn’t chosen just now to try and---

  “What’s up, Hawk?” Lang’s voice in his ear dragged him back to the current situation.

  “Someone broke into Cutter’s apartment tonight and attacked Zoe.”

  “Jesus.” Lang breathed. “Is she all right?”

  “Her leg’s been injured. But she’s ambulatory. She’s gone back to Cutter’s apartment and she’s alone. Bowie lives next door, and the chances that anything else will happen--” He drew a deep breath. “The short of it is, I fucked up, Lang. In a big way. And Zoe won’t let me anywhere near her. Won’t even talk to me.”

  “You broke it off.” Lang’s voice sounded flat. He swore beneath his breath. “We’re going wheels up soon, and you broke it off rather than ride it out.”

  The accusation and disappointment he heard in Lang’s tone punched him with guilt.

  “I suppose I should send Trish, but I won’t. There might be a slim chance of the fucker coming back. I’ll see if I can bring Zoe back here with me. If she’ll let me in.”

  “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

  “I really thought things would be different this time, Hawk. It isn’t any of my business what you do, but--Zoe deserved better than this.”

  Hawk couldn’t think of a thing he could say in his defense. His voice sounded hoarse as he spoke around the knot in his throat. “Will you call me and tell me how she is, let me know where she is?”

  Lang fell silent for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Later. I’m going to get her now.”

  ****

  Half an hour later, Hawk watched as Langley gave a wave then entered the apartment building. It ate at him that it was Lang who was keeping her safe instead of him. By pushing Zoe away, he’d sent her right into the bastard’s path. Zoe hadn’t walked into an attempted robbery, as the police believed. It had to be the same guy. What the hell did Cutter have in his apartment the fucker would be searching for? And why had he waited until now?

  Because Cutter had regained consciousness.

  Hawk pulled out of his parking space and wove in and out of the traffic on his way to the Naval Medical Center in Balboa.

  Though Brett didn’t remember the last couple of weeks in Iraq, there was a slim possibility that he would eventually. And whatever he had in his possession, they’d have to retrieve before he returned home. It had to be something he’d brought back from Iraq. But he’d been comatose when flown home and his gear brought back with the res
t of the men. Who had packed his stuff? Who had unpacked it?

  At the hospital, the nurse’s station stood deserted as Hawk came out of the elevator on Brett’s floor. He strode down the hall. He heard feminine laughter as he approached Brett’s room and paused outside the door. He tapped on the wood and pulled the door open. Angela, one of the nurses stood by the bed with an electronic blood pressure cuff. She and Brett both looked up as Hawk stepped into the room.

  “Hawk---”Brett began.

  “Lieutenant--visiting hours were over long ago,” Angela said, a frown marring her smooth brow.

  “Brett’s sister had an accident this evening. I came to tell him,” he said, his tone short.

  Brett stiffened and he swung his legs over the bed.

  Angela pressed a hand against his shoulder.

  Brett shot her an impatient glance. “What’s happened? Is she okay?” Brett asked.

  “She’s on crutches, hopefully just for a while.” What if it wasn’t just a temporary injury? What if the damage was worse than Bowie had understood it to be? How would he find out how she was if she wouldn’t talk to him? How could he have been so stupid?

  Brett’s jaw tensed. “It’s her leg?”

  “Yeah.” Hawk’s gaze swung to Angela. “Could you give us a minute?”

  Her gaze moved from Brett to Hawk and back again. “You’re still weak from weeks of inactivity, Ensign Weaver. You’re doing great in P.T. but you need to take things easy.”

  “Sure, I hadn’t planned on jumping up and doing any calisthenics while you’re gone,” he said, his tone taut.

  Angela frowned and her lips tightened. She gave a nod as she passed Hawk.

  Hawk dragged a chair over to the bed and sat down. “I know you’re having trouble remembering some things before the mission, but you need to try and remember the last two weeks we were there, Brett.”

  Brett’s brows slammed together over eyes just a fraction less dark than his sister’s. “What does that have to do with Zoe being hurt?”

  “She was attacked when she went to your apartment. Someone was inside searching the place and she walked in on them.”