I felt like I was stuck in a movie, being visited by ghosts of the past, present, and future. It was the yet-to-come that had my stomach in knots.
“You my ride?” I asked when I got near.
“You want one?”
“Well, it beats walking all the way back to my parents’ house in flip-flops.” I picked up my foot and clacked my sandal for emphasis. Or maybe I did it because I was nervous.
Carter, being the nice guy he was, smiled and nodded. “Get in.”
I climbed into Carter’s SUV. But when he pulled onto the road, he headed in the wrong direction.
“Where are we going?”
“To blow shit up.” He smiled.
“Blow shit up?”
“Yep. You’ve got that look.”
I couldn’t stop myself from returning his smile. “What look?”
“Like you need to blow some shit up,” he told me, but what it really sounded like was, hello, dummy, aren’t you listening?
This was the Carter of my youth—funny, teasing, always smiling. All of us cousins had been close growing up and to my knowledge, they were all just as close now as adults. But not me. I was removed, and before Carter came home, so was he. It wasn’t that we lacked a bond, but the physical distance had been hard.
In no time, Carter was pulling through the gates of Triple Canopy and my heart swelled. My dad and uncles had done well for themselves. They’d started and grown Triple Canopy into one of the most respected training facilities in the US. They also contracted with both the government and civilians for private protection.
He pulled around the back of the building and parked. After he killed the engine he reached into the back seat then dumped a bag on my lap.
“Laney’s gym bag. Grab her tennis shoes, I’m not taking you to the range in flip-flops.”
I couldn’t stop the sigh as I rummaged through Laney’s workout clothes. Gone was the lighthearted banter—Carter’s tone had taken on an edge, one I didn’t think I had the strength to deal with.
Maybe I should’ve walked home.
I could’ve used the time to clear my head and sort through what Drake had done.
No sooner had I gotten the laces tied on Laney’s shoes, did Carter slide out of the SUV and move to the rear.
How has my life come to this?
Lonely. Uncomfortable. Despondent.
By the time I reached the open hatchback of the SUV, Carter already had one bag flung over his shoulder. He wasted no time pointing to the two hard plastic rifle cases in the back.
“Grab those.”
Again with the clipped, gruff tone that I was getting used to everyone using with me. There was this tiny part of me, a sliver in the back of my mind, that wanted to lash out and remind them all that I was working through—survivors guilt and what my therapist called normal stress response PTSD.
And all of them being a bunch of assholes wasn’t helping. But there was this voice that sounded a lot like my old self that said I was the one being an asshole, not them. That I was overreacting, cutting myself off from relationships.
From Drake.
Why did he have to ruin everything?
We spent the next thirty minutes setting up targets. Conversation was kept to a minimum and only consisted of where to set the containers of Carter’s homemade blend of explosives. Once again, he’d slid back to the fun-loving cousin bragging about his new recipe and how I was going to be impressed.
My dad and uncles owned twenty acres behind the Triple Canopy offices. Part of the land had a handgun range. They’d also built a breech house and some rifle lanes. But Carter had taken us to the sniper course. In the years I’d been gone, they’d added and changed a lot.
“Dad and the uncles have done a good job,” I noted as we walked back the quarter mile to the shooting platform.
“They have,” he agreed. “We’re lucky. They’ve built this for us.”
I’d heard that a lot over the years, that one day when the guys retired, Triple Canopy would be left to the next generation. The very thought of them retiring had me grinding my teeth. Wasn’t that my issue? Lenox, Jasper, Clark, and my dad had spent years serving our country. When they were done doing that, they’d spent years building the family a legacy. Something good and prosperous that we’d all benefit from.
And now they were risking it all for revenge.
They deserved to enjoy their retirement, not spend it in prison. Or worse yet—dead. All for what? To seek vengeance on a man who’d wronged me.
More guilt. More responsibility.
Why couldn’t everyone see I didn’t want to shoulder it? I wasn’t strong enough. I would crumble under the weight of it and cease to live.
“I want to explain something to you,” Carter started, and my stomach pitched and soured. “You’re mixing up anger and worry. No one is mad at you about anything, we’re scared. Not for your safety, but your mental health. I know you can’t see it, but we all feel it. You’ve changed in a way that makes us all feel like we’ve lost you.”
“What’s that mean, that you’ve lost me?”
“Like you don’t want to be part of the family. Like you’ve pulled away from all of us. And I have to tell you, Liberty, it hurts like a bitch.”
I felt the sting of tears in my throat. I didn’t want my family to hurt. I didn’t want any of them to think I didn’t want to be part of them.
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked.
Carter stopped abruptly and faced me. “Not a damn thing is wrong with you.”
“Then why am I doing this?”
“Because you’re scared.”
Am I scared?
I didn’t think I was, not of Roman. I hadn’t been scared when I’d gone back out into the field with Drake and his team. I didn’t have any panicked reactions to gunfire. I hadn’t been scared I’d be taken hostage again.
“So, you think I’m scared and weak and that’s why I’m pulling away from everyone?”
“There’s that word again,” Carter growled. “It’s a reoccurring theme with you. Why is that, Liberty? What’s your hang-up? Has anyone ever made you feel inferior? Have I ever treated you like you’re less than?”
“No.”
“Then why do you keep calling yourself weak? And why in the hell do you keep accusing us of thinking you are?” Carter blew out a long breath but it did nothing to soften his expression. “What comes out of your mouth, your ears hear, what your ears hear you start to believe. The more you say you’re weak, the more you believe it.”
He was right. That was something our parents had told all the cousins over the years. Words that I lived by. I’d told myself over and over I was strong when I was going through Ranger school. That I was going to finish. I repeated that so many times until I believed it.
“I feel weak,” I admitted.
“Then change it.”
Right, change it. Like all I had to do was flip a switch and I’d go back to my old self.
“How?”
“For starters, never say that goddamn word again. Never, Moira. Erase it from your vocabulary. You’re so stuck on this notion that you’re weak that you can’t see past it. But that’s you thinking that, not us. I’m not blowing sunshine when I tell you, you’re a strong and brave woman. I’m proud of you, Cousin. So damn proud I’m bursting with it. We’re not giving you special treatment because you are some weak, broken woman. Fuck, I hate that you think that.
“After that, start talking, and not just with your doctor, with us, your family, the ones who love you. Trust us to be strong for you. You’re a survivor, say that word. And then get out of the house and start living. You have a few weeks until you have to report back to work, come to Triple Canopy. Shoot, blow shit up, work out, climb the rappelling wall, go have lunch with the girls, go to the station to visit Jackson. Anything but sitting around thinking about shit that’s fucking with your head.”
Carter started walking again and I thought about what he said. He was right about one thin
g, I had to stop hiding in my parents’ house.
“I’m not scared of Roman. I’m scared Dad and the uncles and you are going to do something reckless and get into trouble or dead. Neither I’d be able to live with.”
“Then it’s good we’re the best at what we do.”
“I’m being serious, Carter.”
“And so am I. Think about this. After years of loving Laney from afar, not allowing myself to take what I knew was mine, that now after I finally pulled my head out of my ass and I have her, have my Emma, would I ever do a single thing to risk losing them?”
“No,” I answered, because he wouldn’t.
Carter had loved Delaney all his life and had forced himself to live in misery, denying them both for stupid reasons. He’d never do anything to lose them.
We silently made our way back to the shooting benches. Carter jerked his chin to the two rifles set up.
“Your choice. McMillian TAC-338 or the Savage AXIS.”
My eyes hit the weapons, landing on the flat, dark-earth finish of the TAC-338 and I smiled. My heartrate ticked up and excitement started coursing through me.
“What kind of glass?” I asked Carter about the scopes he had mounted.
“The Tac-338 has a Steiner and the Savage has a NightForce.”
“I’ll take the Savage.”
Carter smiled and shook his head. “You’ve always been a sucker for NightForce glass. But today, it’s not gonna help you, baby cousin.”
“Wager?” I teased.
“If you lose, you have to eat a handful of fried crickets.”
My stomach revolted at the very thought of putting those nasty, crunchy insects in my mouth. Devil’s food, that’s what they were, and the problem was everyone in the family knew how much I hated them. Therefore, they were used in every bet.
“Fine. But if you lose, you have to eat three peanut butter sandwiches.” I smirked.
Carter hated peanut butter so much the smell made him gag.
“One,” he countered.
“Two, and that’s final.”
“Fine, but the handful of crickets are measured by my hand, not yours.”
“Fine,” I agreed, feeling confident I was going to win.
“There’s ten targets out there. Good luck.”
“Don’t need luck, Cousin. I got mad skills. Hope you’ve found time to stay sharp between diaper changes and feedings.”
“As a tack, Liberty.”
“Right. I’ve noticed Laney’s been feeding you well, too. Looks like you’ve gone a little soft to me.”
Carter tossed his head back and laughed. He slid behind the Mac-338, adjusting his ass on the bench so he could rest his shoulder on the stock.
“You’re procrastinating. Sit your ass down so I can win. After you’ve eaten your crickets, you can call my wife and ask if I’ve gone soft.”
“I think I’ll pass asking that.”
Carter chuckled again and gave me time to take my seat.
The second my hand glided over the anodized frame of the rifle, the smell of cleaning solvent filling my nostrils, and the cool, hardened plastic of the cheek rest pressed against my face, peace settled over me.
And in that moment, I felt normal.
Everything felt right.
Not so much because I had a weapon in my hand, but because it was familiar.
“You better not be cheating,” I told him.
“How could I cheat?”
“Oh, I don’t know, have me sighted in at three-hundred yards rather than five-hundred. And before you deny it, you knew I’d choose the NightForce.”
“Would I do that?” Carter asked with humor lacing his tone.
“Yes.”
“Guess we’ll have to see. On three.”
Carter counted us down and I was already peering down my scope, slowing my breathing, and readying myself for my first shot.
I flinched when Carter got the first shot off and the target exploded. After I’d mentally scolded myself for startling, I had to admit that Carter’s exploding targets were awesome.
With one in my crosshairs, I slowly compressed the trigger and seconds later, a fireball shot up. I barely contained my whoop of celebration and moved to acquire another container.
Back and forth we went until Carter had five and I had four, both of us searching for the tenth target. At five-hundred yards, a paint can looked like a spec even through my high-powered scope. If they hadn’t been painted silver they would’ve blended in and been damn near impossible to find.
I caught a glimpse of reflection from the sun and quickly sighted in. I had to take precious seconds to calm my excitement so I didn’t blow my shot.
Finally I pressed the trigger and the resulting detonation was music to my ears.
No eating crickets.
“How do you like me now, sucker?” I hooted.
“You always were a sore winner,” he returned.
“I didn’t win, we tied.”
“If I don’t have to eat peanut butter I consider that a win.”
Okay, that was true. I didn’t have to eat those disgusting little crickets so indeed I had won.
Carter told me stories about baby Emma as we cleaned up our brass and put his guns away. The smile that appeared when he talked about his daughter would’ve been painful to see if I wasn’t so damn happy for him.
Happy for Delaney after all the years she’d waited for him.
At some point in my life, I wanted that and thought I had all the time in the world to find it. But now, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have it. I knew deep down I’d found the man I was meant to be with, the person who made my heart race, my skin tingle, my hands itch to touch. But he’d destroyed me.
“Did Drake tell you what he did?” I asked Carter and watched as he closed down and gave me a guarded, blank stare.
“He did.”
“Have you talked to him since he told me?”
“Yes. He called to tell me you’d bolted and asked me to pick you up.”
Well, that explained how Carter had found me. I figured Drake had called my dad or Carter but I didn’t know which one.
“And?”
“Not sure what you want me to say, Liberty.”
“I’m asking for your opinion.”
“Are you? Or are you hoping I agree with you so you can justify your behavior.”
“What’s that mean?”
Still not showing any emotion, something that Drake was awfully good at doing, too. Made me wonder if they taught SEALs that particular skill during BUD/s.
“It means that I wholeheartedly, one-hundred percent disagree with how you handled him.”
“Handled him?”
“Yep. Drake’s a good man. Great friend. He was a phenomenal operator. And how you reacted was messed up. Not only does he care about you, he’s madly in love with you, and you handed him shit and you did it without even taking a minute to think about the situation he was put in and why he did it.”
“He said it was to protect me.”
“Yeah. And that pisses you off?”
Swear to God, I was going to have to make a dentist appointment soon, the way I’d been grinding my teeth recently.
“Hell, yes, it does. I don’t need to be protected by all of you.”
“You’re so fucking stubborn. You always have been. Remember before I left for the academy, and Jenny whatever-her-name-was went around and was telling everyone that I had texted her some picture and she was showing it around?”
“Yeah.”
“And what did you do?” He held his palm out. “Wait, don’t answer that. I’ll remind you. You committed a crime and broke into her locker, stole her phone. Then you went about proving I didn’t send her a picture of my dick, some kid Pete, or whatever his name was, did. No one could talk you out of it. You were hellbent on protecting me, even if it was just my reputation. That’s you. Always has been. You will do anything to protect us—your family.”
“That’s dif
ferent.”
“Right,” he bit out sarcastically, “You were protecting me. Drake was protecting you. One more thing. Drake was nineteen years in. He had six months until he rolled out of there. Do you think that maybe he also took into consideration that you’re only what, six or seven years into your career? That maybe it was time he got out anyway?”
“With his retirement stripped.”
“Fuck, Cousin, you’re gonna find anything to be pissed about. You’re fighting just to fight. Do you think that man cares about his retirement? Christ, he’ll make more money. He fucking loves you. And he proved it by making it possible for you to go back out and do your job. He made sure that all of your hard work wasn’t wasted. And something else that’s gonna piss you off, but he did it in a way that you are free and clear without so much as a blemish on your record. And he’d do it again, even if it means he loses you, because he loves you that much. And it fucks me to admit this, pains me down to my soul, but he did something for you that I wasn’t willing to do for Delaney until it was almost too late, and that was give up my place on the teams so I could be with her.”
Fire scorched through me, so hot, travelling so fast, burning me from the inside out.
What am I doing?
Did I overreact? Was I wrong?
Everything came at me too fast and I couldn’t push it out of my head fast enough. Too many emotions slammed around in my head.
“I’m so fucking scared this is the person I’m going to be for the rest of my life. I’m scared that Roman snapped something that I can’t fix. I’m scared I’m going to lose my dad. I’m scared I won’t be able to fix myself and I’ll lose Drake. I’m so, so scared that Roman will take more from me and I won’t be able to stop him. I’m scared that I’ll never forgive myself for my team dying. I’m so goddamn scared of everything.”
Carter yanked me into his arms and squeezed me until I wheezed, “I hate this. I hate how one second I feel rational and sane, the next I feel like I’m spinning out of control. And I can’t stop it. I just want to be normal.”
“Honey, you are normal. You gotta keep getting it out, but you need to stop disconnecting.”
Was that what I was doing, disconnecting?
“I don’t think I am.”
“You are. You’re seeing your therapist, you’ve told us what happened, but, Liberty, when you did, you didn’t tell a single one of us how you felt.”
Taking Liberty: The Next Generation Page 23
