by Julie Rowe
“You sound like a shrink.”
“Answer the damn question.”
“No, I…I don’t think so.” He blew out a breath. “I have flashbacks. Sometimes they’re just memories, sometimes it’s worse than a memory. It puts me back there entirely, bleeding on the sand, waiting for the next kick that will cave in my head.”
They both stared up at the sky for a minute.
“Shit happens to all of us,” Henry said. “Your job now is to figure out how to cope with it.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Truth. What are your triggers?
“Heat,” he replied immediately. “Scent and sound. Pain a couple of times.”
“What do you do?”
“Nothing…so far.”
“Okay. That’s a good sign.”
“What if I…”
“You call up a battle brother and talk it out.”
River looked at the other man. “I’d ask you for your number, but you might get the wrong idea.”
Henry chuckled. “Humor is good. If you can make yourself laugh, you’re halfway there.”
Another long silence.
“How bad do you want her?” Henry asked quietly. “Is she worth the fight?”
“No question, but—”
“No buts. If she’s worth it, then so are you. Pull on your big-boy panties and get to work, asshole.”
River took a swig of water before saying, “It’s not as easy as all that.”
Henry snorted. “It never is. I’ve been floating downstream on shit creek since I lost my leg.”
River gestured at Henry’s lab. “You look like you’ve got your head on straight. A job that keeps your brain engaged, people who give a shit.”
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you.” Henry got up and tapped his thigh. “I lost something a whole lot more important than my leg ten years ago.” He turned and went into the tent. The cot creaked, indicating the man had lain down. Probably wouldn’t get anymore sleep than River would.
He looked up at the night sky, wanting his mouse with a ferocity that twisted his gut.
She was worth it. He was the damaged one.
…
Ava walked into her small apartment, closing and locking the door behind her.
Her whole body ached. Spending almost a week in an isolation room so people could poke, prod, and monitor her had been equal parts boring and frustrating. At one point, she gave serious consideration to ripping one of the CDC doctor’s heads off. He’d talked to her as if she were five and dismissed all her observations regarding the course of her Neisseria infection. Since she was the patient, she wasn’t objective enough to contribute to her own case.
Asshat.
If River had been around…but he wasn’t.
He hadn’t texted her. Not once.
Not quite believing it, she texted Henry while she rode in the taxi on her way home and asked if River was still working with the CDC. He’d replied, saying no. He’d left two days before, recalled by the Army.
He’d left no message.
A message of its own. One that hurt worse than any of the injuries and illness she’d suffered through.
She’d gotten past her fears, and she’d thought he’d done the same. As much as it hurt, she couldn’t help him if he wouldn’t let her. Tears rolled down her face at the thought of not being with him. She wanted him with a fierce desire that drowned out the lingering ache in her muscles without effort. That desire, to share everything—her job, family and future—with him had allowed her to see what she had to let go of. Control. And what she had to gain. Trust. That he would catch her if she fell.
Instead, he’d walked away.
It left her empty. Of everything.
No, she was just tired. It had been days since she’d slept more than two or three hours at a time. Dr. Rodrigues had told her not to show her face anywhere for at least five days. That much sleep sounded good.
Ava turned her phone off. Took a hot shower and collapsed into bed.
…
Someone was pounding on River’s head.
He exploded out of bed, ready to tackle whoever was hitting him, but no one was there. He was in his hotel room, alone.
Alone.
He fucking hated it. Waking or sleeping, something was missing. Someone. Ava.
She’d recovered okay, he knew that much, had been glad Henry Lee took the time to text him a message saying she was back to work, but she hadn’t told him.
It was his own damn fault. He hadn’t responded to her text explaining what was happening to her, held up in an isolation ward with no way to talk to anyone. He hadn’t said a word to her, not even good-bye. Message clear, he was done and didn’t want more, and she’d done exactly as he’d hoped. Gone back to her life, safe and sound.
It was a fucking lie.
He wanted more. Fuck, he wanted all of her, but she’d never be safe with him around. There was too much shit in his head, and violence followed him like a shadow, never far, never quite going away.
So, he’d stayed quiet, convinced it was for her own good.
Now, instead of memories of sand and blood haunting him, it was the feel of her skin, the scent of her hair, and the passion in her gaze that kept ambushing him. She’d challenged him in every way, made him think, made him look at the world and see things he hadn’t noticed before. With her, everything was more. Without her, the world was a pale imitation of itself.
Cowardly ass.
He’d gone back to base after the emergency was over in El Paso, took a look at the classroom he’d been teaching in, and promptly took the open offer of a discharge.
Working with Ava, protecting her, using his brain and skills had given him something he’d lacked. Focus and purpose.
Love.
He wanted her with everything he had in him, but had he gone after her? No, because he didn’t know how to go about apologizing. A simple I’m sorry wasn’t going to cut it.
What if she tossed him to the curb?
Fucking coward.
Man up and crawl, if that’s what it took.
He would. He’d go and get down on one knee, but first, he needed to murder the asshole trying to break into his hotel room.
The pounding had resumed, but had risen a couple of points on the Richter scale.
Fuck. He made himself relax and walk over to look through the peephole.
Why the fuck was Henry Lee bothering him?
Last he heard, Lee was still in El Paso. River unlocked the door and opened it.
“You’re a sound sleeper,” Lee said in a sour tone. “I’ve been attacking your door for the last ten minutes.” He swept past River and into the room.
He closed the door and watched Lee pace around the small space. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. Don’t you ever check your phone?”
Why would he, when he knew what he wasn’t going to find? Messages from Ava. “My time is my own now, asshole.”
“I heard you got your discharge.” Henry crossed his arms over his chest and sneered as he asked, “How’s life as a civilian working for you?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Got too much too do.”
“How nice for you.” River didn’t want to hear the lecture he was certain was coming. “Get out.”
“Can’t. I need a wingman.”
“We were Army, not Air Force, or did you forget that?”
“Ava’s in trouble.”
Gravity stopped working. “What?”
“We got called in to a warehouse in El Paso the police thought might have been the dirty lab we’ve been looking for. You know, where that bacteria was weaponized? Only it wasn’t a microbiological lab.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“Yep, a drug lab. Big one. Before they knew it, Ava and the decontamination team were being held hostage by some drug cartel. The cops are shitting bricks, Homeland thinks there’s a terrorist angle involved, and the DE
A is willing to do damn near anything to get their hands on any of the cartel alive.”
All that testosterone would not sit well with his mouse. “We need to get her out of there, before she does something to get herself killed.”
“She won’t do that.”
“Oh yeah, how would you know?”
“She’s Dr. Ava caution-is-my-middle-name Lloyd.”
“She found two bombs, gave one to you, and moved the other with less than ten seconds on the clock. Does that sound cautious to you?”
Henry scowled at River. “You’re a bad influence. I blame you.”
“I blame me, too, but we’ll have to wait for the flogging until after we rescue the hostages.”
“You’re going to have to sign this first,” Henry told him, handing over an envelope.
River opened it. The CDC job offer. Like he had time to read it.
“Can I use my personal weapon?”
Henry grinned. “Of course. I made sure to include that part.”
River signed it, then began pulling on clothing suitable for a firefight. Black jeans, gray T-shirt, and combat boots. “Got any body armor I could borrow? That I don’t have with me.”
“Yeah, I think I’ve got extra that should fit in my truck.”
River grabbed his gun case. “Are we coming back?”
“Nope.”
He took two minutes to gather the rest of his shit.
“Okay, let’s go get my girl.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ava leaned a little more of her weight over her hands. Bill had lost too much blood already. The bullet wound was an inch or two right of the lower end of his sternum. Not a good place to get shot. Not that there were any good places to get shot, but the amount of blood she was seeing indicated internal hemorrhaging, possibly a lacerated liver.
If he didn’t get advanced medical care within the next ten or fifteen minutes, he was going to bleed to death.
She’d been in this situation before, and it hadn’t turned out well.
One of the men who’d stormed the warehouse walked closer, watched her. “Why do you waste your time?” the man asked. He wore a bandana over his mouth and nose, so all she could see of his face were dark eyes and bushy eyebrows. “He’s dead already.”
“He’s my friend,” she answered, then shut her mouth before she could say anything that might get herself shot.
Bill had tried to explain that they weren’t police, that they were CDC, but all that got him was a bullet to the chest. Bastards.
Anger rolled her gut, lent her arms strength, and cleared her mind of fear. She’d survived Ebola and terrorists wielding explosives and bioweapons. These drug-dealing wackos were barely worth her notice.
Glass shattered from multiple windows as canisters spraying out some sort of gas landed on the concrete floor. Tear gas.
The dozen or so men who claimed to own this sleazy drug factory shouted to each other in Spanish and began firing wildly at the windows and doors.
People, drug runners, and CDC personnel all over the large space began to cough, and Ava tucked her face into her sleeve to try to escape the worst effects. Her eyes burned and watered, then the burn slithered into her nose and down her throat. Gasping for breath only made it worse, exacerbating her cough enough to make her hands slip off Bill’s chest. She put her hands over his wound again, careful not to let her continued coughing dislodge her again.
More gunfire, now interspersed with screaming, had her peering toward the area closer to the windows and main door. Tear gas swirled as bodies moved, running and fighting. A bullet ricocheted off the cement floor on a few feet away from Bill’s head. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get shot by accident.
The drug runner who’d spoken to her right before this catastrophe of a rescue ran toward her, gun pointed at her. She didn’t move.
He stopped and shouted something in Spanish again.
He jerked as blood bloomed on his chest. He was still looking at her, but his gaze was empty now. Lifeless. His arm dropped, and he went down.
Behind him, two men ran toward her, both wore gas masks, but she knew who they were despite their obscured faces.
“Get an ambulance,” she shouted at Henry Lee. “Bill’s been shot, and he’s lost a lot of blood.”
Henry nodded and ran back through the gas.
She looked at River. What was he doing here? His lack of communication had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in a relationship.
He shook his head. “People tend to get shot a lot around you.”
“Not as often as they get blown up,” she corrected with a fake smile. Another coughing fit kept her too busy to trade verbal barbs with him.
Something touched the top of her head, and she reared back, only to discover that River had removed his gas mask and was trying to put it on her.
“What are you doing?” she yelled as she jerked her head around, dodging his hands. “Get that thing away from me.”
“You need this.”
“I don’t have a gun to shoot people with,” she hissed, despite how badly she wanted to cough.
He glared at her, his eyes watering as badly as hers, but he put the mask back on.
A flurry of movement from the direction of the door had River turning, his weapon up, but he lowered it almost as quickly. Paramedics with a stretcher stopped next to Bill, and they began pummeling her with questions. She gave them all the answers she had, as well as her suspicion that Bill had an internal bleed of some kind before they had him packed on the stretcher and were racing him out.
“Come on,” River said to her. “The police want everyone out of here yesterday.”
“Why?” Ava got up slowly, her knees stiff from kneeling on the floor for so long.
“Apparently, some of these chemicals are highly flammable. They’re afraid there could be an explosion.”
Ava rolled her eyes. Of course they were.
River grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her through the warehouse and out the door. She didn’t start resisting until they were outside and away from the majority of the commotion.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.” She twisted her arm in his grip.
He hung onto her for another second or two, then let go to rip off his mask. “You’re welcome.”
Her jaw dropped. He thought she should be suitably grateful for his rescue? “Thank you,” she said with enough sugar in her voice to hopefully rot his teeth. She turned on her heel and walked away.
“You look…better,” he called after her.
She spun around. “How nice of you to check up on me after all this time.” She resumed her course, heading for the first CDC vehicle she could find and a cell phone so she could report in. Her nose and eyes were still very irritated. That’s why she was sniffling and crying. It had nothing to do with the man who’d just shown her how much he didn’t care.
Behind her, River muttered, “Fuck.” Footsteps followed her. “Ava, wait.”
She stopped, wiped her face, then spun around and put her hands on her hips. “What?”
He jerked to a halt several feet away, his posture wary. “I’m sorry.”
He was sorry? “For what, exactly?”
“I’m an asshole.”
She knew that already, so she just stared at him.
“I’m also an idiot.”
She knew that, too.
A group of police walked past them with more people in marked uniforms from the CDC, DEA, and FBI coming right behind.
River got a glimpse of the numbers and shifted closer to her. “I need to talk to you, about a bunch of stuff. Can I come by your apartment after I’ve finished all the paperwork on this situation?”
She should say no, tell him not to bother, but she was also curious, and…she missed talking to him. Missed having him around.
“Fine, but if you don’t show up, I’m never speaking to you again.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Do you ev
en know my address?”
“Yeah, Henry gave it to me.” He flashed her a grin, then disappeared into the mob of law-enforcement people all around.
Now that he was gone, all her anger drained out of her, leaving her exhausted physically and emotionally. Bill had been alive when the paramedics left with him, but the memory of that student terrorist, pale from blood loss, wouldn’t leave her mind.
She got into the CDC van she arrived in, fished her cell phone out of the locked glove box, and called Dr. Rodrigues.
…
River arrived at Ava’s apartment a few hours later and managed to get inside, thanks to a lady on her way out. He knocked on Ava’s door, and it took a minute before he heard footsteps. A moment later, the door opened.
She looked so sad, and he feared the worst. “Bill, did he…?”
She backed up, silently inviting him in. “No, he’s alive. In surgery still. The bullet nicked his liver.”
River closed the door behind himself. “Good, that’s good news,” he said, looking her over. “Is that why you look so tired?” She did, with bags under her eyes and pale face.
“I don’t know.” She retreated further into a comfortable living room and took a seat on a one end of a couch. “All I can think about is that stupid kid who died at the café.” She rubbed her face with both hands. “Work has been busy, too. We’ve been trying to unravel that strain of Neisseria, but whoever mucked around with it did it in a way that doesn’t seem to make sense.”
She was trying to keep the conversation on work. Nope.
He sat down next to her, giving her a foot or two of space. “I retired from the Army.”
She blinked at him. “You…what?”
“I work for the CDC now.”
“But, you…why? I thought you loved what you did in the Army.”
“I did, but it was time for a change. I’ve changed. Active duty in the Special Forces is tough on a body. Mine has been telling me it was time to get out for a while. Plus, I want to be able to spend time with my girl. See her every day. No long deployments, no trying to shorten the distance between us with phone sex.”
That made her choke. “Phone sex? That would require you to actually talk to m…this girl.”
He winced. “I had to get my shit figured out first. For a while, I thought I was no good for her.”