Keeping a Warrior

by Melanie Hansen

  The chill turned into an icy coldness that froze her from the inside out. Numbly, Devon gathered up her laptop and a clean T-shirt, then trudged toward Rhys’s hooch, every step a monumental effort.

  At her light tap on the door, Rhys tugged it open and moved to take her in his arms. She put her hand on his chest.

  “Stop. Not until I’m done with my AAR. If you touch me now, I’ll—”

  I’ll fall apart.

  Rhys stepped aside to let her in. His laptop was already set up on one end of his small table, but Devon bypassed it and curled up on his bunk with hers.

  “Do you want some coffee or a Rip-It?”

  His voice was quiet, but Devon still flinched. She shook her head.

  For the next hour, the only sound in the room was of tapping keys. It was surreal, trying to put what happened into a crisp, unemotional narrative that would then be scrutinized and torn apart by the higher-ups. Devon wrapped the numbness around her like a cloak.

  “Would you read this over for me?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own, dull, and hollow. With a nod, Rhys got up from his chair and lowered himself to the bed next to her.

  He took her laptop and read silently. “It looks good.”

  Devon said a quick prayer, then hit Send, her report winging itself up the chain of command. She set her laptop aside and pulled her knees up to wrap her arms around them. Rhys didn’t move, his warmth seeping into her and starting to thaw the protective ice around her heart.

  Oh, God.

  “W-will you hold me now?”

  Without a word, Rhys gathered her against him. She burrowed into his chest as the shivers racked her, the adrenaline slowly leaching away to leave her nauseous, her skin prickly and hypersensitive.

  Rhys didn’t rub her back, or try to speak, just held her tightly, anchoring her.

  “How do you always know exactly what I need?” she quavered, fist twisted into his shirt.

  He didn’t answer, but Devon could feel him swallow, his throat working. Realization hit her.

  “Have you e-ever k-killed anyone?” Her teeth were chattering like it was the middle of winter.

  A long pause, and then Rhys said, “Not as up close as you did, but yes.”

  His voice was thick, and raw. “When I was still with my squadron, we were out on a call. I was in the trail helicopter manning the .50-cal, meaning we were on overwatch while the lead helo was handling the casualties. Right when they landed to pick up the wounded guys, a small pickup truck started barreling along the road toward them.”

  Devon let go of his shirt and laid her hand over his heart, listening.

  Rhys stared up at the ceiling as he retreated into the memory. “I fired some warning shots in front of them, and a couple of Marines on the ground tried waving them off. They kept coming so I—”

  “You lit them up.”

  Rhys nodded, his lips tight. “I did. Turned the truck into Swiss cheese. When it stopped moving, I—I cheered. Then the Marines dragged the bodies out.”

  Devon winced. “Not much to cheer about,” she whispered, thinking about the insurgent’s shocked face, then the permanent blankness of death.

  “No. Turns out they were armed, so I’d saved the guys on the ground. But—”

  But human beings were still dead at your hand. At my hand.

  She shuddered. Could she have done anything differently?

  “Hey. You can’t second-guess it, Devon, or you’ll drive yourself insane,” Rhys said gently. “You made a split-second decision based on your training and assessment of the situation. Trust it.”

  I have to. I don’t have any other choice if I want to live with this, do I?

  She looked up at him. His steady gaze held understanding, and a pain that mirrored her own. Cupping his cheek, Devon closed her eyes as his lips touched hers and clung for one brief second.

  They lay down fully clothed, and Rhys spooned around her. “Get some sleep. I’m here.”

  Nestled in his arms, Devon blinked back hot tears.

  Her teammates. Husbands, fathers, sons, all of them. Would they have lived if she hadn’t been able to kill the insurgent? Probably. He’d been trapped in the house, with only one way out. The SEALs would’ve heard the exchange of gunfire and been waiting for him. Game over.

  But she wouldn’t have lived through it. The women and children certainly wouldn’t have, and the moment Devon walked into that stone house, they’d become her responsibility and hers alone. She’d saved them, and herself, by taking someone else’s life.

  It was self-defense. It was protection of the innocent.

  Devon closed her eyes.

  It was war.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rhys lay awake long after Devon drifted into an uneasy sleep.

  She should’ve had backup.

  They’d all heard the stories of insurgents who dressed themselves as women, knowing the American men wouldn’t dare search them. Why hadn’t that occurred to him—to anybody—before they’d sent Devon into that house alone?

  Thank God she was as cool-headed, and capable, as she was or else a flag-draped box would be on its way home to her family at this very moment...

  The horror of it slammed into Rhys anew.

  Because of his short-sightedness, his eagerness to get into the action, Devon now had another burden she’d have to carry for the rest of her life. How many times had Rhys woken up sweating and gasping for air at the memory of bullet-riddled, bloodied bodies lying next to a smoldering truck?

  And he hadn’t looked into their faces a split second before he snuffed out their lives.

  “You’re so strong,” he whispered into Devon’s hair. “So fucking strong. And I’m so sorry.”

  At last he fell asleep to the sound of her steady, reassuring breaths.

  She was gone when he woke up, and Rhys struggled out of bed feeling like he’d been run over by a Humvee.

  Out in the compound, some guys were sprawled about on ammo crates or old camp chairs. Rhys dropped to sitting and rubbed his eyes.

  “Hey, I remember you.”

  He peered blearily toward the speaker. The guy looked vaguely familiar, but Rhys couldn’t place him.

  “Uh...”

  “Kandahar, a few years ago? You augmented my team on one op. Hank Barwell.”

  Rhys still didn’t remember him, but he perked up a little. The dude must mean the mission where Rhys had first met Devon.

  “Hey, how’s it going, man?” They bumped knuckles, and then Rhys reached out to snag a pack of Oreos that Shane tossed to him. “What’re you doing way out here?”

  Hank grinned at him. “Just passing through.”

  He and a few other guys started to talk shop as Rhys sprawled back in his chair and munched on the cookies. After washing them down with some tepid water, he tapped Matt on the shoulder.

  “Have you seen—”

  Squeals of laughter caught his attention. Rhys smiled when he caught sight of Devon playing soccer with the group of village children who’d come to fly the kites. The kids were used to playing with tied-up bundles of old rags, so the real soccer ball she’d dug up from somewhere had drawn quite a crowd.

  She had the shemagh he’d given her draped over her head, the ends tucked into the neck of her T-shirt. Her cheeks were pink with exertion, eyes sparkling, and Rhys’s heart gave a squeeze.

  God, you’re beautiful.

  Devon waved when she saw him watching. He waved back with a goofy grin on his face, not even caring who saw.

  With a snort, Matt kicked him on the shin. “Dude, you have it bad. You’re worse than I am.”

  Rhys was just about to kick him back when Hank shaded his eyes with his hand and peered toward the noisy group. Suddenly he gave a derisive hoot.

  “Oh, shit. I see you’ve inherited the walking mattress.”

  Rhys froze with his Oreo halfway to his mouth, his tired brain trying to process the words. “What?”

  “Anyone here fucking her?” Hank le
aned back in his chair, fingers linked behind his head. “I know she’s hot to trot, but watch out. When you’re done with her, she’ll accuse you of rape.”

  Rhys exploded up out of his chair, but he didn’t get far. Arms like steel bands wrapped around his shoulders from behind.

  “Oh, yeah?” Hank immediately lurched to his feet and beckoned to him. “You wanna fight over a whore? Let’s go.”

  With a roar, Rhys broke free of Matt’s arms and lunged again. He barreled into Hank and they went crashing to the ground.

  Hands were immediately on him, wrestling him up and away. Rhys fought them, wanting only to smash in Hank’s sneering face, shut that mouth spewing vile words about the woman he...

  Rhys sagged in Matt’s arms as Devon ran up.

  “Stop this!” she shouted. “Just stop it.”

  Hank shook himself free of the men holding him, staggering when Shane gave him a vicious shove.

  Devon got right up in his face. “Say what you want to me, not them.”

  “Okay, fine.” Spitting on the ground at her feet, Hank snarled, “Fuck. You. Bitch.”

  A red haze descended, and it took three guys to hold Rhys back.

  “You proud of yourself?” Hank went on. “It wasn’t enough you tried to ruin his career, you had to get him killed?”

  “I got him killed? I planted the IED?” Devon’s voice was loud, defiant.

  “You might as well have,” Hank shouted back. “His mind wasn’t on his surroundings. He was worried about his career, his relationship. All because of you.”

  “He laughed while he watched two of his buddies hold me down and rape me.” Devon’s face was bone-white. “Maybe that was on his mind.”

  “Rape?” Hank gave a mocking laugh. “Is that still how you’re trying to spin it?”

  Devon raised her chin. “That’s not how I’m trying to spin it. It’s what happened.”

  “Sure, it is.” Hank spread his arms. “You were so drunk you barely knew your own name. You never said no.”

  “I never said yes, either.”

  “Actions speak louder than words, dollface, and you don’t get to cry rape when you wake up the next morning stuffed full of regret.”

  Devon opened her mouth to reply, then snapped it closed. “You know what? Fuck you. I don’t have to put myself through this again.”

  Without another word, she spun on her heel and walked away.

  There was a beat of shocked silence before Rhys wrestled his way out of Matt’s grip. “Devon!”

  Suddenly she whirled around. “What do you need to know, Rhys? What I was wearing? How much I’d had to drink? If I smiled too much that night, or joked about sex? If I passed out in a guy’s bed?”

  The pain on her face nearly stopped Rhys’s breath.

  “If I said no when I woke up to guys I thought were my friends fondling me while I was so drunk I couldn’t even sit up?”

  Rhys kept his voice soft. “There’s nothing I need to know.”

  “You sure about that?” Devon let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t need to know how hard I fought them? Spoiler alert: I didn’t. Why? Because there were three of them, and one of me, and I just wanted to get out of it alive.” A shudder went through her entire body. “Anything else?”

  “No. Because I believe you.”

  Devon froze.

  “You don’t owe me an explanation, Devon. You don’t have to convince me. I don’t have the right to demand details. I believe you.”

  Devon’s mouth opened, but before she could say anything, Smudge yelled toward a group of men standing by the TOC. “Hey, fellas! Could someone come get this asshole? He’s stinking up the place.” He shoved Hank away from their group.

  When Hank came back swinging, Smudge leveled him with one well-placed punch to the jaw.

  “Hey! Yeah, you! Come pick up your trash.”

  At that, the men hurried across the courtyard and dragged Hank up. A lot of yelling ensued, some more shoves and near-blows before they finally hustled him away. Once they’d made sure he was really gone, their platoon stomped past Devon and Rhys on their way to the gym.

  “Fuck that dude,” came the mutters as they passed.

  “He comes around again, let us know.”

  “Fuckin’ prick.”

  They disappeared into the gym with a bang of the door, leaving Rhys and Devon blessedly alone.

  Devon pinched the bridge of her nose, and when she looked up at Rhys again, her eyes were shiny with tears. “Thanks.”

  “For what?” Rhys took her hand.

  “For believing me.”

  Rhys led her toward his hooch, and once inside, he pulled her into his arms. At first she held herself stiff, then slowly, gradually, relaxed against him.

  “I wasn’t going to report it back then,” she whispered. “I know how it works.”

  Rhys knew how it worked, too. In the military, sexual assaults were reported to the perpetrator’s chain of command, and that person would get to decide what to do. Heaven help the woman—or man—whose perpetrator was the chain of command.

  “But you changed your mind and reported it?”

  “No.” Devon gave a bitter snort. “They did. Went to the CO and told them a party had gotten out of hand, consensual sex had gotten a little rough, and they wanted him to know their side of the story first.”

  Rhys closed his eyes. Right then, it was game over.

  “The CO brought me in to hear my side,” Devon went on. “Want to know what he said? That if I was being raped, why didn’t I scream? Why didn’t I fight? Why didn’t I say no and make them stop?” Her voice grew ragged. “Because I didn’t do any of those things, he told me I didn’t get to come in there and ruin some good men’s careers because I regretted having sex.”

  All Rhys could do was hold her close.

  “I was transferred out the next day with a letter of reprimand. The CO said I was lucky that I wasn’t being charged with adultery, too, since two of the guys were married.”

  The fury coursing through Rhys was making him shake. With all his might, he tamped it down. “Nothing happened to your assailants?”

  “As far as I know, the ones who actually assaulted me are still SEALs and have gotten promotions.” Her voice was hard. “Of course, the one who laughed and egged them on is dead.”

  “While you were sent to a transportation battalion.”

  Devon smiled against his throat. “Which turned out to be the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Those guys were the most loyal, amazing guys I ever met. The women drew me in and supported me. We went through some shit together and came out as lifelong friends.”

  They were silent for long minutes while Rhys rocked Devon in his arms, loving how she melted against him, the gift of her trust bringing tears to his own eyes.

  At last she pulled away. “I need some time alone, okay? I’ll find you later.”

  When she pulled open the door, Sayed was standing right outside, his hand raised to knock. “Doc? There’re some people out here to see you.”

  Scrubbing his hand over his beard, Rhys nodded, his eyes following Devon as she disappeared around the corner.

  “Hey, Sayed. Send them in.”

  * * *

  Devon leaned against the wall of the compound and watched as Hank and his recon team loaded their Humvee.

  She glanced over when Matt came to prop his shoulder next to her.

  “You okay?”

  Devon shrugged. “As okay as I can be, I guess.”

  Matt studied her with his intense dark eyes. “I don’t even know what to say, Devon.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” Devon stared in Hank’s direction. “During the course of your military career you’re going to run into stories like mine over and over again. Believe women, Matt. That’s all I can tell you. Just believe women.”

  He reached out and squeezed her shoulder just as a mighty explosion rocked the ground and sent a plume of dust up into the air.

 
; “Get down!”

  Matt dragged Devon to the ground and covered her with his body. Devon’s ears rang with the blast, but no more explosions followed the first one.

  She sat up shakily. “What happened?”

  Booted feet crunched in the dirt as Hank and his fire team flung themselves down next to Devon and Matt in the shelter of the building they were huddled against. “It came from right outside the wire,” Hank gasped, “over to the east.”

  A horrifying realization turned Devon’s blood to ice.

  “My little soccer players!” she screamed. Before anyone could stop her, she was up and running toward the checkpoint.

  “Devon!” Matt thundered after her, but she evaded his grasp, only to run smack into a warm, immovable wall.

  Rhys’s voice cut through the roaring in her ears as he held her tightly. “You can’t go out there, love,” he said, his voice throbbing with anguish. “We have to wait for the EOD guys.”

  Explosive ordnance disposal. The kids must have triggered an old Soviet landmine, long-forgotten. Or else they’d stepped on a new one, freshly buried in honor of the American presence...

  “No,” she moaned, sagging in Rhys’s arms. “Please, no.”

  Suddenly a wave of screaming villagers poured through the gates of the base, a white-faced Marine running ahead of them.

  “They were hit,” he gasped. “A bunch of kids were hit!”

  Immediately Rhys let go of her and ran toward the villagers, followed by the medic attached to Hank’s team.

  Distraught parents held bloodied children, some crying, some frighteningly still. Devon started walking toward them as if in a dream, horror turning her insides to ice.

  No, no, no.

  The happy, vibrant kids of earlier now lay pale and broken in their parents’ arms. Rhys was trying to set up a triage while Sayed argued fiercely with a father who was attempting to push past him.

  Shoving all her emotion down and locking it away, Devon knelt down at Rhys’s side. “What can I do?”

  Shane and Aaron ran up with Rhys’s medical ruck and other bags of equipment.

  Rhys grabbed a pair of gloves and tossed some to the other medic. “Tell me what they’re saying.” He pointed to Sayed.