His devices also had caused the most casualties mainly because they never failed. Unlike the roadside bombs and IEDs made by amateurs that thankfully didn’t detonate a hundred percent of the time—Lore’s did. He gloated incessantly about his discharge rate.
“What I know about Lore,” Trey started, “is he always has a secondary power source.”
“Correct. His devices are redundant. Part of why they never fail. Just because the man is a scumbag doesn’t mean he isn’t smart. The man is a self-taught chemist.”
“Any idea what Lore’s doing in Beirut?”
“Not yet. We have every available analyst working on it.”
“I’d like to look at the preliminary intel—”
“After you finish your debriefing with Major Wilbanks, you make a call to your dad, you pass your psych eval, and you get some rest. Once you’ve completed those tasks, I’ll get you all the files you want.”
“General—”
“Not another argument, Liberty,” Wick snapped, morphing from the hard-ass general to the man who’d sat at my family’s table many times for a meal or a visit. “You’ve pushed me enough for one day. Just do me a favor and for once pretend you have a sliver of respect for the four silver stars on my shoulder and do as I ask.”
“Yes, sir,” I relented.
Properly chastised, I adverted my eyes and blinked away the mist that had started to form.
All bullshit aside, I had nothing but respect for Stewart Wick—not only as a general, but as a man.
“My apologies,” I mumbled.
* * *
I was staring at the phone Major Wilbanks had handed me at the conclusion of my debrief. The woman was nice enough if not a little aggressive in her interrogation approach. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the thought of her questioning Drake and his team. Somehow, I didn’t think any of them would appreciate her bulldog demeanor. Several times she’d caught and corrected herself being a tad antagonistic, and I was supposed to be the victim.
I was delaying the inevitable. I had to call my dad—normally any chance I got to check in filled me with joy, but this time there was nothing but dread. I’d failed in the worst way. My squad was dead and that responsibility rested firmly on my shoulders. Something I could never make right. There was no vengeance that would bring them back, no atonement, nothing could cure the overwhelming guilt that had taken up residence in my soul.
Yet another loss of control I’d have to learn to accept. And truth be told, I was sick and fucking tired of being powerless. Weariness had seeped into my bones, making me question every decision I’d ever made. Sleep-deprived and skin crawling with doubt wasn’t the best combination, especially if I had to pass an eval bright and early tomorrow morning. If I didn’t get my head right there was no chance of me fooling whichever shrink the Army sat me in front of. And knowing Wick, he’d handpicked the doctor.
The phone in my hand became heavier and heavier the longer I procrastinated. My dad would be relieved, overjoyed even to hear my voice. He loved me, my mom did, too. Being an only child meant I’d grown up with my parents’ undivided attention. They were the best parents anyone could ever hope for. My mom had supported my military career even though she hated it.
Not because my mom didn’t like the military—on the contrary, she’d supported and respected my father’s career. But my mother had firsthand knowledge what it was like for a woman in the boy’s club. She’d been in the CIA then worked directly for the Director of National Intelligence. She’d been in the field for many years and only stopped after I was born.
Yet, she’d still supported me. If my father had taught me about military tactics, my mother taught me how to navigate my way through a man’s game with humility and grace. She showed me I could be strong and capable without turning into an aggressive bitch like Major Wilbanks. I could earn respect if I didn’t demand it just because I was a woman.
Her lessons had been just as valuable as my dad’s.
Screw it.
I dialed my dad’s cell and listened to it ring.
Maybe I should’ve called my mom. No, it was better to let my dad handle her. She had to be going crazy.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dad,” I croaked and cleared my throat. “Sorry it took so long to check in.”
“Moira.” The relief I heard in my big, strong dad’s voice made my heart squeeze. “Jesus, it’s good to hear your voice, even though it sounds like hell. Where are you?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“I’m gonna meet you in Germany.”
Oh, shit.
“Mission shift, Dad.” I tried to keep my tone even though there was a lump in my throat and my heart was beating double-time. My dad could sniff fear out a mile away, and yes, that included over the phone.
“Come again?”
“You know the drill, Sergeant Major, mission before self.”
“Don’t be cute, Liberty.”
Unexplainable irritation slithered up from my belly and threatened to spill out. That was the second time in the last few hours someone told me not to be cute. First, Drake when he was acting like a butt-hurt asshole, and now my over-protective father. He wouldn’t say that to one of the men he employed at Triple Canopy nor would he have given Carter a hard time if he was in my place.
“I’m not, Dad. I’m reminding you of my duty to serve. I took the same oath you took. I have a mission to finish.”
Why was I getting so upset? Shouldn’t I be thrilled to hear my dad’s voice—he was always my touchstone. Mom was the listener, Dad was the fixer. Maybe that was my problem—Levi McCoy was getting ready to launch into his Mr. Fix-it mode and I didn’t want any part of it.
There was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do.
“Ten days!”
I felt the pain in my dad’s words straight down to my bones.
“I know, Daddy,” I whispered. “But I’m fine. Promise.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Sure you do, I’m a McCoy. You taught me well. You made sure I was prepared so when the worst case happened I was ready. It sucked and I can’t say I feel all that great right now, but there’s nothing wrong with me that a good meal and a few days’ rest won’t cure.”
Lies, lies, lies. There was nothing that would cure the ache in my chest and the burn in my stomach.
“Liberty…” My name sounded like a plea and my heart started to pound into my sore ribs. “I was…we were…shit…”
“I’m sorry. We tried, there were just too many.” I wanted to tell my dad everything, but I couldn’t over an unsecure line. “The ambush happened so fast. Then…the rest was a blur.”
“Sweetheart,” Dad groaned.
“I did everything you taught me. I didn’t break, Dad, I promise.”
“Never crossed my mind you would. But right now, I need to know about you. What’d the doc say?”
“No broken bones.”
“Sweetie…”
My heart sank at my dad’s unspoken question. He feared the worst, and while I couldn’t give details, I needed to put his mind at ease.
“I wasn’t sexually assaulted. It was pretty textbook, nothing that I couldn’t handle.” My eyes closed as I listened to my dad growl something unintelligible. “Dad?”
“Fuck, Liberty. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
After I kill the man who has a vendetta against my family.
Roman—soon he’d learn the age-old adage—and I’d make sure his side of the knife cut deeper.
I fully understood Wick’s desire to keep the truth from my dad and uncles. He was right, they’d scorch the earth with vengeance. But there was still a tingle of doubt. Lenox, Clark, Jasper, and my dad knew his father, they were also in the business of training tactical teams and teaching troop movement, patrols, and battle drills. Their insight would be valuable. Military consulting was Triple Canopy’s bread and butter. Though
none of the operations they’d consulted on had ever been personal.
It was time to move the conversation to something less painful.
“The team that was sent in to get me was great,” I told him.
“Only reason I’ve been able to breathe the last ten days is because I knew Carter’s old team was going in.”
“Carter’s?”
I wracked my brain trying to remember if I knew Drake and the guys were my cousin’s old teammates. None of them had said anything. But Drake had demanded to know who had mentioned Carter’s name and Luke pushed to warn him there was a possible threat. How had I missed the connection?
“Liberty?” my dad called. “You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry, Dad. I’m short on sleep, I might’ve drifted off for a second.”
“I know I need to let you go, but damn if I don’t want to. I was so fucking scared, your mom was beside herself. The whole family. We’ve all been living a nightmare.”
You’re telling me. I was the one who’d actually lived it. Irrational frustration barreled to the surface and my grip on the phone tightened until I was afraid it would crack. I lived the nightmare. I was the one who’d been captured. I was the one who bled. I was the one who’d been treated like an animal left to rot on the dirty floor on a prison cell in Syria. Me. Not them. They slept in their comfy beds.
What is wrong with me?
They loved me, of course they’d been worried. They lived through their own version of hell.
“I’m sorry, Dad. So sorry you all went through that.”
“Don’t apologize, you’re the one who was…” My dad trailed off again and I could picture him pacing his office, biting his bottom lip the way he did when he was trying to control his temper.
“But I’m fine now. Doc gave me a once-over, enough antibiotics for an elephant, a couple bags of fluid, a few tubes of Dermabond, and I’m as good as new. I didn’t even need stitches.” My attempt to lighten the conversation fell flat, I knew it when my dad groaned. “Dad, you have to know, I wouldn’t be allowed back out into the field if I wasn’t okay. The Army has way too much money invested in me to lose me.” Again, my joke flatlined. “Please say something.”
“It fucking kills me, but at the same time fills me with pride.”
“What does, Dad?”
“How strong you are. The woman you’ve become—the warrior you grew into. As your dad, I want you home so I can see for myself you’re okay. As an operator, a fellow Ranger, a man who’s been in battle and knows the deep-seated need to complete a mission—I’m so goddamn proud of your bravery and determination.”
My dad had no idea how badly I needed to hear that. Though I didn’t feel brave—I felt numb. Which was a good thing. Feeling nothing at all would help me get through the rest of the mission. I could fall apart later after Lore was taken out of commission and Roman was dead. For now, I just had to put on a brave front and get through it.
“Thanks, Daddy. I can’t wait until this is over and I get to come home and see you.”
More lies.
I was scared to death to face my father, he’d see straight through my bullshit. Maybe I wouldn’t go back to Georgia. Thankfully, I was stationed at Fort Lewis, on the other side of the country where I could hide from my family.
“When are you headed back out?”
Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell him.
“Not for a minute. I’ll call again before I head out. Please tell Mom I love her.”
“You could call her now.”
No freaking way am I speaking to my mom right now.
“I don’t want her to hear me like this. I’ll talk to her after I’ve gotten some sleep and my throat doesn’t feel like I’ve swallowed rocks.”
“Make sure you drink a lot of water, dehydration’s a bitch. A protein bar with a spoonful of honey every few hours will help you get your strength back up. And your feet—the major should have Epsom salt. You need the magnesium, it will help with swelling, too.”
My cracked lips tipped up; typical Levi McCoy, a vat of knowledge and combat healthcare.
“Will do, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you so damn much, Moira. Call me when you can.”
“I will. Tell everyone I said hi and I love them, too.”
“Sure thing.”
I quickly disconnected and pocketed the phone, uncaring if I was supposed to keep it or not, it was now mine.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, praying the headache that had started would hold off long enough for me to get to the quarters Wicks had assigned me.
Being alone in a room didn’t appeal to me, but my body was protesting its upright position.
I had one more thing to do, then I’d go find my bunk.
12
I kept to the shadows in the hangar and watched Liberty as she stood in front of five flag-draped pine boxes with her head bowed, noting the statue-still Marine keeping watch over the men.
My hand went into my pocket and found Liberty’s tags. My thumb skimmed the bumpy metal. Something that had already become an obsession. It was a compulsion—the need to stroke the discs—a sick reminder of where I’d found them.
“I know you’re there,” she mumbled, her voice still scratchy.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
I made my way to her and stopped a respectable distance away even though the urge to pull her into my arms was damn near overwhelming.
Liberty McCoy was all contradictions. It was hard to reconcile this small woman with a tough warfighter. She looked fragile standing in front of her fallen teammates—yet I knew she was far from weak.
The woman was damn beautiful even with bruises on her face, her long brown hair pulled back in a severe bun at the nape of her neck, and wearing a now-clean uniform. Never in my nineteen years in the military had I ever found a woman in uniform sexy—not once had I ever been tempted by a woman I worked with. But there was something about Liberty McCoy that called to me on a different level—it was primal, instinctual, primitive. My head cluttered with all sorts of inappropriate shit when I got near her. And when she’d been taken from me at the airfield, I wanted to rage and fight to keep her.
The fuck of it was it wasn’t purely sexual. Sure, she was attractive—extremely so. But what I felt for her was fundamental—a base need—she was intrinsic.
“You didn’t disturb me.” Liberty’s sad tone wrapped around my heart and squeezed. “I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Were you close?” I asked, then immediately wanted to kick my own ass for being so insensitive.
What did it matter if they’d been close? Five men were dead.
“Yeah. We went through Ranger school together. The six of us were pulled for SF at the same time. I don’t think I would’ve made it through the first day if it wasn’t for Perez. He had a way about him. He could laugh his way through anything. He saw the bright side. Him and Martin always had a joke about the suckage that was our daily life. Kirby, Pritchett, and Ball were stoic. Maybe because they were older, married, and fathers.” Liberty’s voice hitched and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob.
Without a thought, my hand shot out, tagged her behind the neck, and pulled her close. Her face went to my chest and my arms wrapped around her.
I didn’t offer any platitudes; not only would they not be welcomed but they’d be insulting. She lost her team—men she was close to—but more than that, men she’d led into battle. That responsibility was formidable—losing those men, devastating.
“I don’t know…I can’t…What am I supposed to do?”
“Do?”
“Do. Say. Face their families. I can’t ever make this right.”
No, she couldn’t make it right. That was the fuck of it. There was nothing anyone could do to give the families back their loved ones. A gamble we all took every time we entered the theater of war. Unfortunately, the chances we took had far reaching implications—repercussions that we ourselves didn’t
have to live with. A dead man didn’t pay the consequences, those who loved them did.
“You offer them the only thing you can—your support.”
“Tell me, Drake, how am I supposed to offer them support when I can’t even… never mind. Support. Right. I’ll do that.”
The first crack in the hard shell she’d coated herself in since we’d come back to post. In the field after her rescue her reactions were raw and real, she couldn’t hide her fear and pain. But in front of Wick, she’d built a façade of false bravado—which was dangerous.
“Tell me, Liberty, what can’t you do?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing I can’t do.”
“Nothing…except admit you need help.”
“I don’t need help.” Liberty struggled to pull away and I tightened my arms around her.
“You know, it doesn’t make you anything but human to need to talk about what happened.”
“I don’t—”
“I warned you not to bury this shit. Deal with it now. If you don’t, when it finally overtakes your life, it will take years to dig it all out.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Master—”
“Drake,” I corrected. “Don’t hide behind ranks and paygrades. Right now, it’s just you and me. Liberty and Drake. Two people who share something in common. What can’t you do?”
The rise and fall of her rapid breaths quickened and her arms that were trapped between us shook. I hated her reaction to being pushed, but damn if she didn’t need to let go and get it out. More than likely she’d be pissed as hell at me for not allowing her to continue under the sham of rightness. There was nothing all right about Liberty. She’d lived through one hell of an ordeal, and I wasn’t lying when I told her if she didn’t purge this shit she’d be stuck in a cell in Syria for the rest of her life.
Taking Liberty: The Next Generation Page 8
