His Soldier Under Siege

by Regan Black

  “Kevin’s more like you,” he continued. “Those days after the accident, when Dad didn’t pull through, I never wanted to see a hospital, nurse or doctor again. Kevin set his mind on a medical career. Took me a long time to accept that.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d accepted it yet.

  “Kevin’s going to make a full recovery,” she said. Her quiet confidence was a cool balm to his ragged emotional wounds. “There will be hard days. He’s going to need your legendary support in the weeks to come.”

  “Legendary?”

  Her lips parted but her cell phone chimed, distracting her before she could explain. Frowning at the device, she excused herself and stepped into the hallway.

  Legendary support? That had to be sarcasm. Derek had stumbled many a time, trying to raise a heartbroken little brother. They’d fought bitterly along the way and he’d been particularly unenthused about his little brother’s career decisions. He reached for Kevin’s hand, careful to avoid the bruising that mottled his skin from the helicopter crash.

  Grace Ann came back in. “That was my boss,” she explained, holding up her cell phone. “I can’t pick up anything for you, but I asked the cafeteria to send something up.”

  “That was...” Just about the nicest thing anyone had done for him in years. “Thoughtful,” he finished. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime. I’ll see you tomorrow. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Everyone wants to pitch in and help both of you through this.”

  He nodded. His voice wasn’t trustworthy.

  “Promise me,” she pressed.

  She’d never demanded a promise or anything else from him before. He found himself giving it easily. “I promise.”

  As she darted away, he felt the change. Lighter, hopeful again. It seemed a few minutes in her company had cut his burden in half. Should he chalk that up to her professional skill or their unique friendship?

  It bothered him more than a little that he couldn’t be sure.

  Chapter 2

  Being called to the commander’s office wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but it wasn’t an event Grace Ann categorized as fun. Hugging Derek in the hallway couldn’t have raised any eyebrows. As Kevin’s brother, he was unit family and offering him support or comfort was completely normal under the circumstances.

  Maybe the Lieutenant Colonel wanted to put her on a new assignment or a special project. She was always up for a change of professional scenery and she’d happily dive into a task that would fill the hours between shifts and keep her mind off those relentless ghosts haunting her and the madman hunting her siblings. Only one way to find out. In the elevator, she took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts, prepared to give an update on her patients, as well as Kevin.

  H.B. was shutting down his computer for the day when she walked into the suite of administration offices. “Go on in,” he said. “She’s ready for you.”

  “Thanks.” She tried to pick up a clue about this meeting from his expression, but he might as well have been playing poker. Rapping on the door, she announced herself.

  “Come on in.” Lieutenant Colonel Bingham waved her forward. “Have a seat,” she said. “It’s been a long day for all of us.”

  “It has,” Grace Ann agreed. The pleasantries did nothing to settle her nerves. There was a hard gleam in the commander’s usually kind brown eyes. “I just came from Kevin’s room. He’s resting comfortably.”

  “That’s good news.” Bingham’s gaze raked over a paper on her desktop before she looked up. “There is no easy way to say this,” she began. “I just received notice you’re under investigation for misappropriation of Department of Defense medical supplies.”

  The absurdity of the statement left denials and protests tangled up between Grace Ann’s brain and her mouth, making her momentarily mute. There had to be some awkward, horrible mistake. She’d been stateside for two years, serving with her unit here at Walter Reed day in and day out. The only exceptions had been temporary assignments for training exercises elsewhere. Until the Riley Hunter’s actions prevented her participation.

  “I beg your pardon?” she managed. “I would never—”

  “Of course, I don’t believe it for a minute,” Bingham said. “I do, however, have to take appropriate action. The report claims you broke the rules during outreach efforts on your last deployment.”

  Who would start pointing fingers now over a deployment two years done and gone? “The school,” she murmured as the devastating memories burst free of the boxes where she tried to keep them.

  The ghosts took shape, flowing around her, the happy faces of children she’d come to know and love a little. She wasn’t in the office. Not even in the States. She was back in that dusty village where boys and girls, eyes sparkling with life and energy, would dance and sing and giggle during the team’s visits. One by one those faces withered, the eyes staring into nothing, all that life snuffed out.

  “Major?”

  Grief was an open, festering wound. Her mouth went dry, recalling the dust that coated everything and everyone. Her heart seemed to stall in her chest, aching more with every beat, her ears ringing as they had in the aftermath. Wouldn’t it be nice to curl up and turn her back on the world with all its horrors?

  She yanked herself back to the present before the past dragged her under permanently. “Yes, pardon me.” Slowly she opened her hands, stretching her fingers, which had balled up in defense.

  Bingham hadn’t been their commander on that tour and Grace Ann wasn’t sure what she might or might not know about the incident. When she had control of her voice, she explained, “We regularly conducted wellness visits at the village school. It was a high point in the tour for all of us. Until it was bombed.”

  Legally, DOD supplies could be used to treat locals in cases of blindness, loss of limbs, or life-threatening trauma. On the day of the bombing, she and the team had gone out to conduct routine checkups with the schoolchildren. There hadn’t been any trauma supplies on hand to be used, appropriately or not.

  Someone must have misinterpreted the team’s actions in that crisis. Why pin it all on her? Needing information, she forced herself to ask questions. “Is that the incident being investigated? Who accused me?”

  “The whistleblower’s name is redacted in my report,” Bingham said. “As well as specifics.”

  The name wasn’t important. Grace Ann was confident she’d guessed right. “That has to be it,” Grace Ann murmured to herself. “The school was the biggest, most publicized community outreach effort in our area,” she explained. “I suppose our time there, the improvements we were making, turned the village into an irresistible target for terrorists.”

  “You know better than that,” Bingham said. “It had nothing to do with us. Terrorists habitually go for the jugular in a community. Positive growth isn’t tolerated.”

  Bingham was right, but Grace Ann couldn’t shrug off the weight of blame. She’d come home, debriefed and reestablished a healthy work-life routine. And still when she closed her eyes to sleep, the children who would never grow up were with her.

  “I don’t like this, Major Riley.” The commander glared down at the paper again, closed the folder with a snap. “However, my responsibility is to cooperate for the integrity of the investigation, regardless of how ridiculous it is. To that end, your security clearance has been suspended—”

  “Pardon me?”

  “—and your access to medications and controlled substances is revoked. Due to those status changes, you’ve been removed from the schedule until the investigation runs its course and you’re cleared.”

  “Ma’am?” Grace Ann stared at her commander, dumfounded. The words wouldn’t fall into any sensible order. How would she fill the hours without her work? “I didn’t do anything wrong over there.” Who had she offended so badly that they’d file a false report?

/>   “I know this comes as a shock,” Bingham continued gently. “Your first call should be to the JAG office. After that, I recommend you take a real vacation. According to your personnel record, you haven’t taken much more than a long weekend since your return from Afghanistan.”

  “There was a week in Key West,” she said absently. She could hardly mention her secret trips with Derek every few months. “We all met down there to celebrate when my parents picked up their boat.”

  Most of the time she filled her days off between short jaunts to the Rileys’ new beach house in North Carolina or rambling through nearby state and national parks with Derek. Surrounding herself with activity was the only way she’d found to mute the agony of that day and keep those vicious memories locked down.

  “Your scattered days here and there aren’t nearly enough downtime to balance how much you give us here, Major Riley,” Bingham said. “Consider the extended time off a silver lining to this frustrating and inconvenient situation.”

  “How long?” She blurted out the question before she had control of herself. “I mean, yes ma’am.”

  Bingham narrowed her gaze. “If you want my opinion, no one who knows you is putting any stock in this. Still, the investigators are obligated to follow through.”

  “Of course.” Transparency and accountability were the catchphrases these days. That logic was no comfort to her while her career deflated like a popped balloon and her heart cowered in her chest.

  “I did try to keep you on the rotation,” Bingham said. “They wouldn’t have it. I anticipate you’ll be cleared and back with us just as soon as the initial interviews are over.”

  Her head pounded. They were conducting interviews already. On a violent incident that had taken place on the other side of the world. She couldn’t think of a single person who would set her up this way or a single witness who might verify this outrageous claim.

  “I’m free to go?” She should feel lucky she wasn’t in handcuffs.

  Bingham nodded in the affirmative. “Major Riley. Grace Ann. You are a trusted, valued member of the Army Nurse Corps. I do not believe there is anything credible in this accusation. Take some time to yourself and let the system sort it out.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” It meant a great deal to be trusted, to hear that she was valued.

  Unfortunately, the confidence and compliments wouldn’t change the sudden abundance of free time looming in front of her. Hours and hours with no distractions, no work to exhaust her physically or mentally, posed a terrifying and untenable prospect.

  She couldn’t even invite Derek for a quick weekend away. He needed to be here with his brother.

  Guilt and grief tied knots in her belly. She should be the one recuperating from spinal surgery—would have been if the Riley Hunter’s antics hadn’t kept her off that exercise. Now another storm cloud was throwing random lightning bolts into her life, threatening her career. She had no idea who she was without the army, without nursing.

  * * *

  Derek rubbed his palms together briskly, determined to stay awake. Overtired, now that he had a decent meal in his belly it was hard to keep his eyes open. He could sleep later. With so many things that could, and often did, go wrong in a hospital he was driven to keep watch over Kevin.

  He and his brother held vastly different memories of the days their dad lingered in ICU after the car crash. Kevin had been old enough to understand the concept of serious complications but still young enough that Derek sheltered him as much as possible from the increasingly grim updates.

  Yes, Kevin’s situation was different. Medicine had made huge advancements since they were kids. And unlike their father, Kevin had squeezed his hand once during Derek’s brief visit to the recovery area and periodically roused enough to remind Derek he’d be fine. Now, while Kevin slept, Derek had only his thoughts and the incessant beeping of various monitors for company.

  The television had been more annoyance than diversion. He’d called his office in Baltimore and updated his assistant that Kevin would recover fully, explaining it would be a few weeks yet before he could manage day-to-day tasks on his own. She’d promised to pass the information along as needed and keep him up-to-date on issues at the office. He was in-house counsel for a medical supply company, so there weren’t any pressing cases to juggle.

  Though it was selfish, he wished Grace Ann would come back. Her confidence in Kevin’s recovery made it easier to believe life would return to normal again someday. Just knowing she was in the building gave him something positive to think about when the clinical sounds and smells overwhelmed him.

  Eighteen years ago Derek had changed up his life and adjusted his personal plans to stay home and get Kevin through high school. The few weeks or months ahead of them were simply another drop in the bucket. Derek would telecommute or...

  His thoughts evaporated when he caught a glimpse of Grace Ann hurrying by the open doorway. He’d expected her to pop in again after she dealt with whatever had called her away, had been counting on her return. He started to stand up and follow her and forced himself to stay put. Though Kevin didn’t need him right now, he didn’t have to trail after her like a lost puppy.

  He pushed to his feet again. He should apologize for being rude when she’d been trying to help. An apology was a valid, mature reason to interrupt her and it had nothing to do with wanting to spend another few minutes in her company to store up that soft scent of her skin. She was intelligent, witty and kind and she’d managed to make this never-ending day almost tolerable.

  Although, as he hustled down the hallway, he had to concede everyone here had been nicer than expected. The weight on his shoulders lifted with the silent admission. Kevin frequently joked about Derek’s colossal bias against the military. His prejudice wasn’t even based on his own experiences or an inherent philosophy. No, Derek’s problem boiled down to a pervasive unease about Kevin’s inevitable deployments to dangerous and remote locations.

  His little brother had no idea how much Derek didn’t want to be the last Sayer on their family tree.

  At the intersection of two hallways, he looked around, having momentarily lost sight of Grace Ann. She was a little taller than average, a fact he appreciated whenever they kissed and when he spotted her dark head moving against the sea of scrubs. He almost called out her name before he remembered where he was and that shouting wasn’t a smart idea.

  He rushed forward, determined to catch her before she reached the employees-only doorway. He skidded to a stop as someone wearing a combat uniform—he couldn’t be sure if it was a man or a woman—rounded the corner, grabbed her and shoved her into the stairwell.

  What the hell?

  Catching a glimpse of the shock on her face, he moved on instinct and bolted after them. Through the narrow window in the heavy door, he saw the uniform held Grace Ann in a chokehold, pressing her back over the railing. She fought back, twisting and straining to break the grip, while keeping one foot hooked around the back of the attacker’s knee for leverage. Or balance.

  Derek’s heart slammed into his rib cage. He couldn’t lose her. Soldier or not, she wouldn’t deal with this alone—he wouldn’t let her. Shouting for help, Derek surged forward and grabbed Uniform’s collar and hauled him back.

  The person under that boxy uniform put up quite a fight. Closer now, Derek could see it was a man by the big hands dusted with hair wrapped around Grace Ann’s neck. The edge of a tattoo on his inner right wrist peeked from under a sleeve. Derek struggled, pushing and shoving, determined to get the man off her.

  She continued to scrape and grapple, using the distraction and shifting momentum to break the chokehold at last. In a lightning-quick maneuver, she pinned Uniform’s hands helplessly to his side and struck the man hard on the jaw with her elbow.

  Uniform’s head snapped back, but he didn’t give up. Backpedaling, he thumped Derek into the wall with his bo
dy and lunged for Grace Ann again. The element of surprise gone now, she smoothly ducked under the attempt to corral her at the railing and raised her leg, tripping Uniform. He pitched forward, tumbling down the slope of concrete steps.

  Uniform hit the first landing with a thud and a low groan before he scrambled to his feet and kept running, pinballing between the wall and the rail in his haste to escape. When Grace Ann moved to follow, Derek caught her, holding her back. “Let him go.”

  “He can’t get away with this.”

  “He won’t.” Derek hoped his promise wouldn’t become a lie. “Let’s take a look at you.” He leaned back so he could look her over but she turned abruptly into his embrace, her body quaking with shock as Uniform’s boots continued to pound against the stairs.

  “We should call security.” He held her close, needing the assurance that she was alive and well. He kept breathing in the soft clove scent of her shampoo, imagining they were back at their last campsite, under the stars. Anything to block that moment when he was sure she was going over the rail.

  “We should.” She didn’t move, her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt as the sound of a door clanging open and closed echoed up the stairwell.

  Would she now be in a heap at the bottom of the stairwell if he hadn’t come along? Jerking his gaze away from the unforgiving concrete at the bottom of the stairwell, he shifted them closer to the door and safety as the tremors rolling through both of them subsided.

  “Thanks,” she said, stepping out of his embrace. “I’m better now.”

  He wanted to believe her. His gaze fixed on the red marks circling her throat above the neckline of her scrub top and his heart lodged in his throat. “You sure?”

  She suddenly bent over, her hands braced on her knees, and sucked in slow, measured breaths. “Just need a minute.”