Active Defense

by Lynette Eason

The others snickered. Heather’s aversion to physical exercise was anything but a well-kept secret.

  Gina leaned in. “Come on, Heather, spill it.”

  Heather rolled her eyes, then sighed. “I’ll sound like I’m crazy. Y’all will think I’m flat-out losing it.”

  “Now you have to tell us,” Sarah said. “No way you can say that and then just shut down the topic.”

  Travis caught the darkening of Heather’s blue eyes and the furrowed brow along with the minuscule flash of fear. He frowned. “What’s going on, Heather? We’re your friends and want to help.”

  Heather scowled. “Y’all . . . really. It’s probably not that big of a deal.”

  “But?” Travis asked.

  “But . . . I think I might have something of a stalker.”

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  “A stalker!” Travis’s feet hit the ground with a thud and Heather refused to look at him. He’d just had to play the “we’re your friends and just want to help” card, hadn’t he?

  “What?” Brooke cried.

  Gina’s eyes had gone wide. “You mean like a stalker . . . stalker?”

  Heather held up a hand. “I said something of a stalker. Actually, stalker might be too strong a word. He’s more like a watcher.” But maybe not.

  All eyes were on her, making her want to squirm. Instead, her left leg started the jiggle like it did when she was stressed. She crossed her right leg over it to keep it still. Sarah’s knowing gaze homed in on the movement. “Explain, will you?”

  “I’ve seen someone watching me and it’s putting me on edge,” Heather said. “So, when the guy showed up here, I wanted to confront him. But he disappeared on me.”

  “That’s not nothing,” Gina said.

  “If someone’s watching you, it could have something to do with that video.” Sarah leaned forward and snagged her drink from the table, her gaze intense.

  Travis tilted his head. “What video?”

  “You’re kidding me. Where have you been hiding?” Sarah asked. “It’s all over social media. It’s the one of Heather and the team operating on the Afghan teen who blew himself up at the hospital. Caden’s been trying to get it taken down but hasn’t had much luck.”

  “Some of us don’t spend every spare minute on social media,” Travis said.

  “Well, some of us have to know what’s trending because some of us have a job that requires it.” Sarah scowled at him, then smiled.

  Travis rolled his eyes. Being friends with Sarah was like having another sister.

  Caden frowned. “I’m making progress. It’s not exactly my specialty area, so it’s taking a little longer than I’d hoped.” He’d called in a favor from his tech guru at the FBI, but she hadn’t had spare time to devote to it yet.

  Heather let out a low sigh. “It’s probably a moot point by now. It has over six million views and is climbing. Talk shows are calling me. Can you believe it?”

  Four weeks ago, someone had posted a video of Heather performing surgery while in Kabul. It had gone viral within hours. When it had gotten to the point that people were stopping her in the grocery store to either lambaste her for trying to save a suicide bomber or regale her with praise for her “saintly” heart, she’d had enough. For a week, she’d worked to get it pulled from the internet—all to no avail. Heather had finally asked Caden to intervene.

  “And the bomb went off before he actually got inside the hospital,” Heather said, her voice low. “I really don’t think he wanted to do it.”

  “The boy? What makes you say that?” Travis asked.

  She hesitated. “The hospital is in a rural area where a lot of fighting was going on. We were filled to capacity, working sixteen to twenty hours a day to help the troops and local Afghans caught in the middle. I was in charge of the operating room. We’d just gotten back from a short sandboarding trip and I wanted to check on some patients. I was walking toward the recovery ward when I saw him. He looked right at me, took his shirt off, showed us the bomb, and asked me to help him. That’s when it went off. And I don’t think the guy watching me has anything to do with the video.” Although it had crossed her mind.

  Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Why did we not know this?”

  “I don’t like to talk about it. It was four months ago. I’m trying to move on.”

  The others stared at her, and like a flash of lightning splitting the dark sky, the truth hit her. She closed people out. No matter how much she might crave the closeness she observed between the others, she didn’t let herself have it. She’d thought she’d overcome that, but the reality was, she couldn’t figure out how to do it. To change herself and what had been ingrained in her since childhood. Don’t trust anyone. Especially someone who offers to help you. They don’t want to help you. They just want something from you. The words of one of her foster siblings echoed in her head. She wanted the intimacy the others shared. She did. But not this way. Not by being needy. Then again, if she allowed them to help, it would be a real test of their . . . steadfastness? Loyalty? Trustworthiness? Guilt hit her that she even questioned that at this point in their friendship.

  Brooke touched her hand, bringing her back to the conversation. “If you don’t think it has anything to do with the video, what do you think it has to do with?”

  Heather huffed a short sigh. “I don’t know. Just forget I said anything. I’m making a big deal out of this. He’ll get tired and move on.”

  “He will? Do you know who it is?” Gavin asked.

  “No.”

  “Anything else we need to know about this situation?” Travis’s quiet—lethal—tone sent goose bumps popping up on her arms. He’d gone still, his eyes narrowed, like a hunter who’d scoped out his prey and was simply waiting for the right time to pounce.

  Heather blinked at the easygoing cowboy’s transition, then shook her head. “I really don’t think there is a situation.” At least not one she was ready to admit to. Yet. “I’m taking some precautions and watching my back, but I’m not worried.” Liar. Why had she said anything?

  She was competent, used to being in control—of the operating room and her life. Always before, she’d handled her problems herself. She didn’t go blabbing about them to other people. Not even her closest friends. But this situation had her off-kilter and had loosened her tongue way too much. “Seriously, I appreciate that you want to help, but I can deal with it. Really. If it escalates or I think I need help . . . I’ll ask.” No she wouldn’t. She rose. “I’m going to get a refill.” She took her three-quarters-full glass and headed for the kitchen, kicking herself for ruining the lighthearted atmosphere they’d finally managed to achieve after the despondent conversation in the pool.

  Gina followed. In the kitchen, her friend grabbed another soda from the refrigerator while Heather waited, mind tumbling with thoughts of leaving.

  “What’s with you and Travis?” Gina asked.

  Heather blinked. “What do you mean? We’re friends.”

  A light laugh tripped from Gina’s lips. “I think his feelings go a little beyond the ‘just friends’ thing.”

  Heat crept into Heather’s neck and up into her cheeks. “I’m sure you’re imagining things.”

  “No . . . I’m quite sure I’m not.” A wistful smile curved the woman’s lips. “Brad used to look at me that way. Like I was the most beautiful and priceless treasure he’d ever seen. And when you mentioned you thought you had a stalker, Travis’s eyes went black. If you do have a stalker and Travis gets his hands on the man, it won’t end well for that dude. I’m just sayin’.”

  “Oh, come on, Gina. Travis is just—”

  “Why are you protesting so hard? I’m not blind, my friend.”

  Heather stilled. “You’re right. You’re not. We’ve been friends a long time and survived some crazy stuff. If you say he looks at me like that, then . . .”

  “He does.”

  “Huh. Okay, then.” So, she hadn’t been imagining the spark of interest there
. It both thrilled and scared her. All her life she’d longed for a family. She’d decided as a child she wanted a man who’d love her. Someone very different than her abusive father. But she’d also decided that if that didn’t happen, she’d be fine alone.

  Gina lifted her soda can in a “cheers” gesture. “I’m going to get back to the ribs. They’re really good.”

  At the freezer, Heather added two cubes of ice and considered leaving once more. Gina’s observations and her own loose tongue had served to throw her off her axis. Now that she’d been confronted with the reality of Travis’s interest, she had to decide what to do about it. She’d only dated men she knew she could control—or at least maneuver like pieces on a chessboard. Her friends called them wimps. Travis was no wimp and he wouldn’t be maneuverable. If that was a word. Not that she would ever plan on doing that with Travis, but . . . ugh! Dare she take a chance and encourage his interest?

  “There’s ice in the cooler on the deck,” Brooke said from behind her.

  “I know.” Heather shut the freezer.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, turning to face her friend. “And I’m not saying that because I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve truly told you everything. I’m probably overreacting.”

  “You don’t overreact. It’s not in your DNA.”

  A laugh slipped from her. “So we all thought.” She shrugged, her smile sliding south. “I don’t know, Brooke. Ever since the bombing at the hospital, and watching Abdul die, I just—” Why couldn’t she turn the words off? “I can’t even get rid of the T-shirt.”

  Maybe she did want to talk about it.

  Brooke sidled closer. “What T-shirt?”

  “The one the kid was wearing when he approached the hospital. I saw him and I knew, Brooke. I knew what he had planned.”

  “How?”

  She took a sip of her drink. “I just did.” She stared at the floor, reliving the day the bombing occurred. “I wasn’t supposed to be there, did you know that?”

  “You were sandboarding, weren’t you?”

  Heather nodded. “But we got back early from our trip and I decided to check on a few patients. I headed for the recovery ward, and that’s when I saw him.”

  “And he saw you.”

  “Yes. I remember it like it was yesterday. The expression on his face was . . .” She looked away. “I don’t even know if I can put words to it. A mixture of desperation and determination and . . . hope.”

  “Hope?”

  “Hope that I would help him. Hope that there was a way out of his impossible situation. Hope that he wouldn’t die. He didn’t want to do it.”

  “What? Blow up the hospital? So you’ve said.”

  She nodded. “He tried to warn us.”

  Brooke frowned. “How so?”

  Heather rarely talked about that day. Or Abdul. And she’d never told a soul about the T-shirt. Until tonight. “Like I said before, he took his shirt off and showed us the bomb strapped to him. He looked right in my eyes and cried out in English, ‘Help me.’”

  “Oh my . . .”

  A tear dripped down Heather’s cheek and she swiped it away. Why was she sharing this now? “And then the bomb went off. Far enough away that no one else got hurt. Just him.”

  “I had no idea.” Brooke’s sympathy—and shock—were tangible. “I knew you were there in the operating room—everyone knows that, thanks to the video—but I didn’t know the details. Why haven’t you told me this before?”

  A gleam of hurt shone in her friend’s eyes and guilt stabbed Heather. “Because it brings on the nightmares,” she said, her voice soft. Sleeping tonight was going to be fun. Not. She was already mentally preparing for the nightmares heading her way. “After the bomb went off, I ran to him, not even thinking there could have been another bomb.” Her friends’ yells to stay back echoed in her memories. “He was still alive, even though he was missing part of his torso and an arm. His face was bloodied from the spray of his other wounds, but it was still beautiful, not damaged. I asked him his name and he said, ‘Abdul.’ Then he whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’ And passed out. He arrested a couple of hours later after surgery and we couldn’t get him back. There was just too much damage.” Heather shuddered, blinked. And found herself wrapped in Brooke’s arms. “I’m sorry,” she said and stepped back.

  “I’m not. Well, not sorry that you told me. I’m very sorry for that poor boy and for you and everyone else who had to see the things they saw over there.”

  “Nothing you didn’t see as well.”

  Brooke shook her head. “No, I was much more sheltered. I saw some awful stuff, but that . . .”

  Heather swallowed and fought another rush of tears. “One question haunts me.”

  “Ask it.”

  “Why can’t I throw the shirt away?”

  Brooke frowned. “I’m still confused on the shirt.”

  “Abdul’s shirt. After it was all over, I walked outside to get some air and found it on top of a trash heap, whole and untouched. Like his sweet face.” She bit her lip and gave a slight shake of her head. “I grabbed it and kept it.” She gave Brooke a sad smile. “It had been freshly washed and smelled like some kind of lemon detergent.” She paused. “It still does. It was familiar, though, like I’d seen it before. It had kind of a unique design on it that made it stand out, but I can’t remember where I might have seen it.” She shook her head. “Not that it matters. I just want to know why I find myself unable to get rid of it.”

  “Well, I can offer my thoughts if you want.”

  “Sure, why not? What’s the benefit in having a shrink for a friend if she can’t analyze you every once in a while?”

  “Haha.” Brooke flashed her a small smile, then turned serious. “Seems to me that you’re still hanging on to that shirt as a way of hanging on to the boy.”

  Heather pondered that. “But why? This will sound callous and I don’t mean it that way, but the truth was, I didn’t know him. He wasn’t any different than any other patient I wanted to save. I’ve lost patients before, and while I’ve grieved them, it hasn’t affected me like this.”

  Brooke touched her hand. “This was different. Very different. He tried to save you. He died because he decided to warn you and protect you. I think a lot of it boils down to the fact that you had no control over the situation.”

  That put a new perspective on things. One she’d have to think about. A lot.

  A footstep behind them spun her around. Gina stepped into the kitchen and set her plate and cup on the counter. “I think I’m going to call it a day. This has been fun, and I appreciate everyone going to all the trouble to do this. It was a nice change of pace.”

  “Of course,” Heather said, giving her friend a hug.

  Travis walked in and raised a brow. “Everything okay?”

  “Gina was just leaving.” Heather rubbed her friend’s arm. “We’re glad you’re home.”

  “Thank you. Home. That’s the goal of everyone over there, isn’t it? To come home?” Grief shattered her expression for a brief moment. “I just wish Brad could have made it too.” She sucked in a breath and shot them a forced smile. “But it wasn’t to be. I’ll see you all later.” She gave them another wave and headed for the front door.

  “Gina—”

  Heather started to go after her, but Gina held up a hand. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for being so low tonight. This was incredibly kind of all of you, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” She sighed. “It was hard being without him overseas, but it’s even harder being in our home with memories everywhere. I just have to hope the house sells fast. So, please, don’t say anything more or I’ll lose it.”

  Heather nodded, gave her another hug, and watched her leave. For a moment, her own grief was shoved aside while her heart hurt for her friend. Gina was right. Time would help.

  “You’ve been gone awhile,” Travis said from behind her. “I came to chec
k on you.”

  “I’m all right,” Heather said. “Starting to deal with some things that I’ve put off, but I’ll be okay.” Before her stint in the Army, she might have questioned his motives—or been defensive at the idea that someone thought she needed checking up on.

  Growing up in the foster system had taught her some hard life lessons. But this was Travis. He was a modern-day cowboy raised by parents who’d taught him to appreciate women—and protect them. Whether they needed it or not. It was sweet. He was sweet. “Thanks for asking, though.”

  “Sure. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?”

  Heather hesitated. She wasn’t so sure she couldn’t use a little protecting—or at least some help in figuring out who was following her. She prided herself in being independent, but everyone needed a little help sometimes, right?

  “Get it through your head, brat. Don’t be a nuisance. Don’t ask for help. Don’t be needy or clingy. No one likes that. Learn to handle things yourself and be invisible, or nobody is going to want you.”

  The words from the past echoed and she tightened her jaw. “I appreciate the offer. But I’m fine. Just overly tired and overthinking things. On that note, I’m going to head home. I have an early shift tomorrow.”

  He nodded, his eyes shadowed, concern on his handsome features. “You’re more worried than you’re letting on. I can tell.”

  He could? She forced a smile. “Well, worry never solved anything, did it? I’m going to go say my goodbyes.” She hesitated, then touched his hand. “Thanks for being a friend. And I’m sorry for the nasty bruise you’re going to have tomorrow.”

  His return smile was just as strained as she figured hers was. “You’ll call if you need something?”

  “Sure. I’ll call.”

  She left to find the others, feeling his gaze on her back. And knew he saw through her lie. She wouldn’t be calling no matter how much she might want to.

  Travis stepped back into the kitchen after watching Heather’s taillights disappear. The urge to go after her was strong, but he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate his interference.