“Matt,” Drake’s angry rumble vibrated through my body.
“Brother, you know you can’t wash…”
“I wasn’t,” I cut in.
“Ma’am, there’s no shame in telling us. But we need to preserve evidence.”
“Matt, right?” The man nodded and I continued trying to sound stronger than I felt. “Look at me. Do you think I have any embarrassment left? They did their best to strip me of my dignity. They humiliated me and took everything they could from me. But they did not rape me. I have no shame, I know I did what I had to do to survive and I did it without disgracing my oath.”
Matt’s face had gone from matter-of-fact to pissed right the hell off and I wasn’t sure what had made him so angry. What I did know was my throat felt like I’d swallowed nails.
“May I have some more water?”
“Just a few sips,” Drake told me and lifted the canteen.
My hands wrapped around his as I brought it closer to my mouth so I could drink without it being poured down my throat.
I’d had enough water being forced on me to last a lifetime.
“Easy,” Drake cooed, and I realized I was shaking so badly the water wasn’t making it into my mouth.
“I… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just relax and I’ll pour.”
“No!” I snapped and Drake froze.
Maybe I still had some shame left because I had to close my eyes to block out Drake’s concern.
“Talk to me. Tell me what it is you don’t want.”
“Don’t pour it in my mouth. They… I can’t have the water poured.”
Drake let out a long string of colorful words, some I’d never used myself, and I was known for my potty mouth.
“Waterboarding,” he surmised.
“So many times I lost count.”
“You wanna try to put it to your lips? It might sting a little but you’ll be able to drink without pouring it in your mouth.”
“Yeah.”
Our combined hands brought the metal to my lips and Drake allowed me to take over, tipping the canteen back. When I was done, I noticed his thumb was gently stroking mine. The contact barely registered beyond the fact Drake was being nice.
It was odd how detached I felt from the whole ordeal. It was like the last few weeks had happened to someone else. Sure I was sitting in a dilapidated building with crumbling walls and it smelled like death warmed over. I had all the physical reminders it had indeed happened to me, but emotionally I’d completely closed down. My thoughts and feelings were well out of my reach even if I wanted to access them.
I’d lost my entire team. Kirby, Pritchett, and Ball would never go home to their wives. Their children now fatherless. Perez and Martin would never jackass around again, they’d never tease me and poke fun at my painted toenails. The world had lost five great men and I couldn’t find more than a transient thought of sadness.
I was going home and they weren’t. There was something disgustingly wrong about that. And for a moment I wished Drake and his team hadn’t found me.
Overwhelming anger coiled in my stomach, it seeped into my bones, it infected my blood.
“Liberty?”
“What?”
Drake’s gaze slid over my face and I watched his Adam’s apple bob.
God knows what I looked like.
If the throbbing was anything to go by, I had to look like I’d gone rounds with Conor McGregor and lost.
“Settle, Liberty.”
“Don’t tell—”
My skin was suddenly burning and becoming tighter by the second, I wanted nothing more than to shed my broken body. I didn’t want to ever be Liberty McCoy again.
“Settle,” he demanded.
Matt abruptly stepped back and I glanced around the group of men who all stood with their arms crossed over their chests wearing identical scowls.
Fuck it.
Fuck them.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Master Chief.”
“Breathe, Ranger.”
“Stop… Stop… Fucking…”
I couldn’t catch my breath, my chest labored to suck in oxygen, my lungs burned, and my vision started to swim.
No, no, no.
I didn’t want the darkness.
Not now.
No more darkness.
6
“Jesus Christ,” Luke growled.
“I’ve never seen someone turn so fast,” Trey added.
Neither had I and it scared the fuck out of me.
The episode came on so quick I didn’t think Liberty understood what was happening. One second she was drinking water, the next she was shaking so violently she looked like she was having a seizure. Her face had gone pale and she was in the throes of a panic attack. The episode had snuck up on all of us and had her so entrenched there wasn’t time to stop it before she fainted.
And just like the first time she’d lost consciousness, maybe it was for the best to give her mind a moment to rest.
“Grab her uniform out of my pack, will you?” I asked Logan.
There was no doubt each of us was feeling our own level of anger seeing Liberty beaten. No man wanted to see a woman harmed. But for men like us, it ignited something dangerous. However, Logan was feeling something different. He had three sisters, and I’d bet he was seeing each of them in Liberty as she laid limp in my arms.
“Logan—”
“I’m fine,” he clipped unnecessarily, verifying I was right.
“If you need—”
“I said I was fine, Drake. Leave it.”
I heard Matt sigh—another indication Logan was not fine. But we all knew him well enough to know, when the man didn’t want to talk—he wouldn’t.
Logan set her folded uniform and a blanket on the barrel Liberty had been sitting on and asked, “Do you need help?”
“No.”
I grabbed the items, stood, and walked us to the far side of the room to preserve what was left of Liberty’s modesty and fanned the blanket out the best I could before I gently laid her down. Nausea crept up as I took her in.
Good Christ.
The sight of her was like a knife to the heart. Every cut a twist of the blade. Every bruise salt to the wound just looking at her injuries caused me.
Unable to look at Liberty’s abused body for another second, I got to my knees and as carefully as I could, I started to dress her. I didn’t know for sure how long it had been since she’d been stripped down, but since we’d found her uniform trousers and blouse as well as her boots in the first house we’d hit, which wasn’t too far away from where she and her team had been ambushed, best guess was from day one.
I lifted her hips and slid the pants under her ass, doing my best to advert my gaze yet needing to watch what I was doing. Never had I been so sick to my stomach as I tended to a wounded soldier. Never had my hands shook with anger. As I buttoned Liberty’s pants, I tried but failed not to think about her bloodstained panties. She said she hadn’t been sexually assaulted, and I prayed she was telling the truth. There was more than enough blood that had leaked from her nose, mouth, and lacerations on her abdomen to explain the stains. But my heart still throbbed in my chest at the mere prospect that it could’ve happened to this strong, brave woman.
“Lieutenant, wake up.” I brushed some of her matted hair away from her face and once again winced at the contusions.
Proof of what she’d endured.
No, that wasn’t right. Proof of what she’d survived.
“Liberty,” I called again when she didn’t rouse. “Wake up, Ranger, we have to get you dressed.”
Her eyelids started to flutter, then they shot open and fear-filled eyes met mine right before she started to struggle.
“Easy, Liberty.” I backed away enough that I wasn’t crowding her but close enough to restrain her so she didn’t hurt herself. “You’re safe, remember? We got you out.”
“No!” she shouted a struggled plea. “Don’t.”
> “Focus, Liberty. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
My gut clenched when she scrambled to sit upright and let out a painful scream.
“Look at me, Liberty, and focus. Breathe. You’re safe.”
Finally her wild eyes started to relax and she blinked a few times.
“Drake?”
“Yeah, I’m right here. I thought you’d like to get dressed.”
“Dressed?”
Why did she look so damn adorable when she tilted her head and wrinkled her forehead in confusion?
“We found your uniform,” I told her. “Your socks and tee were missing, but at least you’ll be covered up.”
And that was when Liberty McCoy’s armor cracked. I saw the tears pool in her eyes before they started to fall. I sat back on my knees with my ass to my heels, completely frozen as I witnessed this resilient woman’s pain. She made no move to wipe or hide her tears—heat raced up my spine and settled so deep I knew I’d never forget this moment. Lieutenant Liberty McCoy was giving me the greatest gift I’d ever been given—her trust.
When she spied her camouflage top still folded on the floor next to her, she snatched it so quickly she swayed.
“Whoa. Careful. I’ll help you put that on but I need to check your back first.”
She ignored me and continued to shake the blouse until it was unfolded. The sound of Velcro ripping open echoed in the cavernous room. I wasn’t sure what she was after but whatever it was it must’ve been important because she was on a mission to retrieve it even though her hands shook and chest heaved with exertion.
“Thank God,” she whispered. “Thank you, God.”
She pulled her hand from her breast pocket and opened her fist, palm up to show me her treasure. Four scrolls from the 75th Ranger regiment.
“Your dad’s?” I surmised.
“Yes,” she sobbed. “And my uncles—Jasper, Lenox, and Clark.”
I smiled at her obvious relief. I couldn’t say it was unusual she’d keep something so special to her while she was on a mission. Most men I knew always had something with them. A photo, a charm to bring them luck, a letter, a pocket bible, a cross. We were a superstitious bunch and used anything and everything to get us through deployments.
“I thought they were gone. My dad… he taught me this trick, when the pain got to be unbearable I slipped away into a memory. The last thing I was thinking about when I was dying was my graduation. That’s where they gave me their scrolls. I saved my favorite memory for the end. I wanted that to be the last thing I thought about. I thought maybe somehow they’d know that everything they taught me meant something. It got me through without breaking. I didn’t… I didn’t give them what they wanted.”
I didn’t think she had and I thought she deserved to know so I told her.
“Didn’t think you did, ma’am.”
“Liberty,” she reminded me.
Now more than ever I needed the professional distance our ranks provided but I found I couldn’t deny her.
“Your dad’s worried sick—everyone is. We’ll get you to a phone as soon as we can so you can speak to them.”
In an instant her face closed down and the tears that had been flowing stopped as if the faucet had simply been turned off.
“Liberty?”
“Would you mind checking my back so I can get dressed?”
“Sure, as soon as you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Um, hate to tell you this, but you’re not fooling me. I witnessed it. The moment I mentioned calling your dad, you shut down. You know how proud your family is, right? I’m sure by now your dad’s been notified you’ve been rescued…” Liberty flinched and her lips flattened into two thin lines that had to be extremely painful. “Right there, why the scowl?”
“I’m not scowling. I’m in pain, Master Chief. Forget it, I don’t need my back checked.”
She started to swing the blouse so she could dress herself but I caught the material and took it from her before I moved behind her.
“You know, it only gets harder. And the more you try to fight it, bury it, pretend it didn’t happen, deny the fear and helplessness, the worse it is. Advice, Ranger—deal with it now. Acknowledge what happened, admit you were scared, process that you were held captive against your will and tortured. Because until you concede, you cannot begin to recognize your strength.
“Now comes the hard part, the part they don’t teach you in SERE school, the part that cannot be taught because until you’ve truly lived it there are no words for it. This is where you learn to rebuild. Starting right now, is when you realize you will never be the same and that is okay. This is where you fight again to regain the control you lost. But you do that by letting it all hang out. Open those wounds and let them bleed. Purge all the poison polluting your soul. Allow it all to hemorrhage because if you don’t, you’ll be stuck here, in this fucking shithole building in Syria, for the rest of your life.”
My gaze hit her welted back and I was happy she couldn’t see me. There was no way I could hide my disgust at what they did to her.
“Before you put that on, I need to dress this,” I told her and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Liberty didn’t utter a word as I stomped across the room. There was no other way to describe my pounding footsteps.
Where in the hell is my professional detachment now?
“How’s she doing?” Logan asked when I made it to my team.
“She’s shutting down.”
“You need to—”
“I know what needs to be done,” I snapped, cutting him off.
I didn’t like the looks my team exchanged and I braced when Luke pinned me with a knowing stare.
“You want me to take over?” he asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Brother, you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Hell no, I don’t.
“Yep.”
“Drake. Be smart.”
“I am.”
Since when had I started to lie to my team? I wasn’t being smart—not even close. Getting attached to the lieutenant in any way was the stupidest thing I could do. Yet the thought of Luke or anyone else dressing her wounds or helping her had me seeing red.
I grabbed my pack and stalked back to Liberty—her face blank, and staring off into space.
“Liberty?” Her torso jerked and her eyes swung to me.
She started to speak but had to stop to clear her throat. “Have you been…”
Liberty let her question hang and even though I knew what she was asking, I was going to make her say it. I didn’t lie when I told her she had to start dealing with the repercussions of being taken and held captive now. The longer she let it fester, the worse it would become.
“Have I been what?” I pushed.
“Held hostage.”
That was a start.
“Yep. Thirteen days.”
She fell silent, and sensing she had more to ask but didn’t want to look at me while she did, I moved behind her. I set my pack down before I went on my knees and started pulling out what I needed.
“Were you scared?”
“Fuck yeah,” I answered immediately. “And anyone who’s found themselves in the hands of the enemy facing their mortality, and doing that while knowing they have secrets they need to protect, lives on the line, a country depending on them, tells you they didn’t feel that twinge of fear—they’re a goddamn liar.”
“Wasn’t scared I would break,” she croaked and I wanted to ask her to stop speaking and rest her voice. Every time I heard the rasp I became more and more enraged. “I was scared of never seeing my family again. Is that selfish? I mean, as soon as I was separated from my team, I went into survival mode. I couldn’t think about them, but shouldn’t I have been thinking about how to save them?”
I finished wiping the blood away while I gathered my thoughts. I was happy to note I didn’t see any obvious infection but that didn’t mean much.<
br />
“This is gonna sting like a bitch, Liberty,” I warned her and she tensed, thinking I was talking about tending to her back. If only the emotional scars healed as quickly as the physical ones. “The guilt is gonna come. You’re the only survivor. But no, you should’ve been doing exactly what you did—whatever the hell was necessary to survive.”
“But—”
“There’re no buts, in this. This is when you need to trust yourself. You know you made the right decisions. Now you need to stand by them.”
“Drake?”
“Right here, Liberty.”
“How bad is my back?”
Fuck.
“It’s a mess. Worse than the front of you. How long did they keep you strapped to the plank?”
“I’m thinking a long time, but most of it I don’t remember.”
Thank fuck for that.
“I’m thinking that’s a good thing.”
Liberty’s shoulders started shaking and I debated what to do. My first instinct was to gather her in my arms and coddle her. Protect her. Soothe her worry and promise her she’d be okay. Staring at her mangled flesh, I wished more than anything I could take her pain—switch places with her so she’d never know this misery. But that was impossible. The best I could do was remind her she was strong and brave.
She was a Ranger—and Rangers never quit.
7
There had never been a point in my life when I’d felt lost. I’d been blessed with two great parents, a loud, fun, loving extended family, cousins who were my best friends, teammates who had never seen me as anything other than an equal.
But right then, I was lost. I was falling into an abyss and I didn’t know how to stop it—or even if I wanted to.
I was numb. Not physically—I could feel every cut, welt, and bruise. But emotionally I felt nothing.
Shouldn’t I feel something?
Gratitude my life had been spared. Anger toward the men who’d captured me. Something? Anything?
“Here,” Drake said from behind me. Before I could question what “here” meant, he shoved a t-shirt over my head and helped me push my arms through the openings. “It’s about five sizes too big but the cotton will feel better than the nylon of your blouse against your back.”
Taking Liberty: The Next Generation Page 4
