by Zoe Dawson
As if understanding his emotional rawness, she lifted her head and brushed a kiss against his mouth.
“I guess it was worse because the camp counselor was someone I trusted. I even questioned myself when my parents said I must have been wrong. I guess I felt invalidated. It felt like my world had shattered to pieces. I’d never imagined that anything so horrible could happen in the world, or that anyone could be so evil as to deliberately do this to another person. An adult, no less.” He brushed at her hair, capturing a silky curl and rubbing it between his fingers. “I’ve never felt able to talk to anyone about what happened, not close friends or therapists. I’d tried with my parents, but with the SEALs…” he shrugged. “They’re my brothers. I thought they would always understand.”
“The SEALs validate you?”
He nodded.
“You feel like you let them down because of Speed?”
“They came for us, but it was too late. I felt like I had betrayed their trust.” Scrubbing his face, he rolled to his back. “I refused to talk about Natasha’s torture, the sexual abuse. I sweet-talked the psychologist into signing me back onto the teams, said what she wanted to hear. I screwed myself over. I’m trying to shake the guilt that I am responsible for Speed’s death.”
She climbed on top of him and looked him in the face. “You’re not. They killed him, and they treated you horribly. It’s not your fault, Blue.”
He took a heavy breath, and his throat felt full. Closing his eyes, he said, “Everything just festered, my anger overflowing, my problems with women triggering a sexual response, flowery perfume bringing on flashbacks. I felt betrayed by the team, especially the guys who rescued me. They saw what had happened to me, and it was humiliating that I had let it happen.”
“No, you didn’t. Again, it wasn’t your fault. The betrayal of your camp counselor when you were young triggered your feeling of not being validated by your parents, leading you to believe that you could no longer expect validation as a SEAL. Natasha played on that information to destroy you.”
“And it almost did.” Releasing a heavy sigh, he gazed at her, feeling so much better seemed wrong. He could see shadows under her eyes, and he wondered how she was faring since she’d told him everything. He lightly brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, then tucked a loose piece of hair behind her. He remembered that galvanizing instant when he’d thought he was unworthy of the brotherhood. He didn’t believe that so much anymore thanks to Charlie.
He stared at her, something painful happening around his heart when he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. Sliding his hand along her jaw until his fingers were buried in her hair, he drew her head down, the fullness in his chest making his throat cramp. He took her mouth in a soft, comforting kiss. Wrapping his fingers around the back of her head, he held her still as he softly, slowly brushed his mouth back and forth across hers, making them both gasp. “Thank you for being here for me. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m not sure I could even begin to find my way back.”
“You will. I know it. It’s just a matter of understanding what’s causing your conflict. Sounds like you figured it out.”
“Maybe. I think I should get more counseling.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
“I have already seen the therapist Ruckus recommended. He’s a vet, and he seems to understand what I’m going through. We’ll see how it goes.”
After that, there were no more words. Blue tucked Charlie into his body, curled around her and let himself drift toward sleep. There was only a week left on this assignment. Maybe he would stay here for a few more weeks and see the counselor, then see where he was by then.
He didn’t want to deal with the fact that Charlie would be leaving.
* * *
During the final days of his class, he realized there was something wrong with Charlie. She was distracted and preoccupied most of the time. She’d get a bruised, haunted look in her eyes, and there were traces of hesitancy that had surfaced ever since she’d tied him up.
She had to be wrestling with deep-seated emotions. She was more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her, but she had to open up to him. It hurt him that she wouldn’t as she kept sidestepping the issue, saying she was fine.
It was as if she was stranded on a high, narrow ledge. No matter what he did or said, it didn’t matter a damn unless she let go and took that first step. He didn’t care how big a step it was, or how she took it. He just knew nothing would be possible unless she did.
And there it was, the hope that she would want things to be possible. Between them.
There were times when he felt as if he was an inch away from climbing out of his skin, and then there were times when she seemed so damned fragile that he would get her alone somewhere and just hold her. And every time he did it, she would huddle in his arms, almost as if she was cold and hurting.
Nights were different. At night, she didn’t want comforting or gentleness. There was a kind of wildness in her, an urgency, and she pushed him to the limit, pushed him until he lost it. And then the fire in her would consume him, and he would need her so damned bad and be so desperate to get inside her that there was no room for patience, for gentleness, for comfort.
He wanted to have it out with her, but afterward, when they lay spent and trembling, she seemed to need him more than ever, and even in her sleep, she stayed close.
The night before their last class, he had avoided coming over, but then he couldn’t stay away. Charlie was already in bed, asleep when he got there. Blue used her shower and crawled in beside her, hoping she would wake up so he could talk to her. She didn’t, but the moment he stretched out beside her, she turned to him. He gathered her up and drew her head onto his chest, a heavy tightness unfolding in him. In spite of everything, that one subconscious act affected him like little else had. He snuggled her head closer and shut his eyes, his throat so full he could barely swallow. Damn, he wanted her. But at this moment, like on the beach when they had connected so strongly, it had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with her. He’d been through hell, he could acknowledge that to himself now. He’d been violated, raped, and mind fucked. But Charlie was right. He’d given up his personal power, scarred by his experience as a child, and now he felt…almost whole. But meditation, the connection he’d had to himself, was still blocked.
There was still more…more that he had to overcome, more that he had to experience. She needed to work her magic for him one more time.
He awoke hours later from a disjointed, confusing dream, his heart racing and his lungs tight. For an instant, he didn’t know where he was. Then he smelled her scent and a sense of peace and gratitude washed through him. He opened his eyes and met hers. For a full minute they stared at each other, then with a pensive look, she turned onto her stomach and faced away from him.
He rose up on his elbow, then reached for her hands, entwining his fingers into hers. “Talk to me, Charlie. What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
He clenched his jaw and growled. “Dammit!” He took a breath and tightened his fingers. “Everyone is always fucking fine,” he whispered. “But we’re not. Sometimes we’re hurt and bruised and nearly shattered. Most of the time we’re not even close to fine.”
He buried his face in her neck, breathing her scent.
Then she slipped away from him The space beside him so was empty, he wasn’t sure how he could go on without her beside him.
He sat up in bed as she picked up his shirt and wrapped herself in the material. She went to one of the windows that cast her in moonlight, her dark hair standing out starkly against his white shirt.
He leaned his shoulder against the headboard, the sheet slipping off his naked body. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, looking like an angel in the dim light. He decided he had no choice but to confront her.
“Come on, Charlie,” he said, quietly goading her. “We’ve been too close for you to pull this crap.”
&nbs
p; She stared at him for several moments, then she rubbed her upper arms and looked away. “You’re right. I’m not fine. We’ve both been shattered, hurt, and bruised.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the glass. “Maybe too much.”
Charlie rubbed her arms again, her jaw clenched, her body tense. There was a long pause, then she said, her voice so soft he could barely hear it, “Maybe I can’t open myself up like I had hoped I could.”
It took everything Blue had to stay away from her. “How do you really know, unless you try? That’s what you told me. Take back your power.”
She nodded, then pressed one hand to the glass, staring out at the ocean. Blue waited, his belly in a knot. It took her a while, but she said, “I did tell you that, but only you could decide if it was true. I just don’t know. Maybe I’m just that kid looking for my family.”
The knots in his gut felt like a vise, and he dragged his hand down his face. For the first time, he sensed what she was trying to say. Massaging his eyes, he eased in a deep breath, then looked at her. “You’re not sure you can trust me enough for it be all right for you to risk yourself,” he said huskily. “Where do we go from here?”
She stared back at him, her eyes dark with doubts. “I know what you want and I’m not sure we can discuss a relationship between us yet. There is still so much to be resolved. Consider coming to my father’s estate in San Diego. It’s where I could really tie you, figure things out between us, a place where we can take the final steps together. Come home with me, Blue.”
Framed in the faint illumination from the window, her face was stricken. It was also the first time she’d ever let him see her insecurity, and the knot in his gut eased a bit. It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. He wanted it more than he wanted his next breath. But his answer was hard to swallow. “I can’t, Charlie. Not with this nebulous threat hanging over us. I can’t, and I won’t put you in the same position as Elena. If something happened to you because of me, it would kill me.” His fists clenched and everything inside him was agony. “Do you understand me?” He looked back at her. “It would kill me.” His voice broke, and he pressed his back against the headboard, torn to pieces.
Then she was there, pulling him against her, stroking his face, soothing him in her arms. He rested there, with the heavy guilt of Elena’s death pressing in on him. Other than keeping quiet when he’d seen what happened to Rory, this was his biggest regret. He should never have allowed Elena to shelter him for so long. The anguish of her death washed over him until he was shaking.
“I would walk through fire for you,” he whispered against the heated skin of her throat. “Risk everything to protect you, even my own happiness. Don’t ask me to go with you, Charlie. I simply can’t.”
“Okay,” she whispered as if her heart was breaking. Blue knew he was hurting her and making it more difficult to overcome her fear of opening fully to him.
Maybe impossible.
But there was nothing else he could do. Keeping her safe wasn’t really something he could do. She was a navy diver, and she faced danger and death every time she dived. But he couldn’t handle being the cause of it.
She rocked him and slid down until she could wrap herself around him.
“I’m sorry, Charlie.”
And the impasse continued into the next day. Even as they finished out their last class, unable to even hide his turmoil, their eyes constantly meeting and sliding away, the anguish reflecting his own in those beautiful depths. He watched her walk away from him and disappear into the crowd.
He went to his office and started to gather his things to vacate it for the next person when the knock on his door made him pause.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened, then closed, and she was wrapping her arms around him. “I’ll never forget you, Ocean Beckett. My baby Blue. Please, if you can, keep in touch…” She pressed a piece of paper in his hand. “That’s my information.” Then she raised her head, her eyes glistening. “And if you change your mind, my address in San Diego is on there. Take good care of yourself. Let yourself heal.”
He closed his eyes and gathered her close. With a soft cry, she pulled away from him and then she was gone.
An emptiness opened up in him, one that could only be filled by her. His jaw flexed, and he hit the stuff on the desk. As it crashed to the floor, he sat down in his chair and covered his face. She didn’t deserve this, and neither did he, but he couldn’t change the fact that someone was watching him. He had the sense that they were coming for him, and Charlie needed to be out of the equation. He would be ready for them. This time, he would be fucking ready.
* * *
The next day, when his cell rang, they had just called to reschedule his flight. He’d decided to go back to San Diego early. Staying in Panama City after Charlie was gone only made him feel emptier. He pulled it out of his back pocket and frowned at the unknown number. “Hello,” he said.
“Mr. Beckett.” The heavily accented voice shocked through him. “I am surprised you let such pretty girlfriend go on alone.”
“Who is this?” Her voice sounded just like…but it wasn’t possible. She was dead.
“Irina Komaroff. Natasha Golovkin was my baby sister. You killed her, taking something important from me. Eye for an eye, Mr. Beckett.”
The blood drained out of him. They weren’t after him…they had been after Charlie. He should have realized that. He’d seen them at her condo, not his apartment.
He broke down his phone, making sure if they were trying to track him, it would be impossible, then he boarded the plane back to San Diego, praying he wouldn’t be too late.
His only thought was: Charlie.
14
Panama City, Florida
Scarecrow and Wicked stood outside Blue’s apartment. “Maybe we should have texted him first,” Wicked said, looking more uncomfortable by the second. He was sweating.
“You all right?”
“Is anything about this all right?” Wicked ground out, clenching his fists.
“None of us want to talk about this. But dammit, Wicked, suck it up.” Scarecrow grabbed the big man’s arm and brought him to a halt. “We’re going to talk about it until we’re blue in the face if that’s what it takes.”
Wicked’s eyes narrowed. “Can’t we just get shit-faced like normal guys, have a fist fight, then make up and drink some more?”
Scarecrow set his hands on his hips. “Do you want to be the reason this team doesn’t gel anymore? Do you want to be part of that, ruining something that was damn good?”
Wicked tipped his head back and swore a blue streak. “Fuck you, Crow.”
“Did I hit a nerve? Good. You’re always so goddamned cryptic.” Scarecrow ducked the swing directed at his jaw and took a step back as Wicked planted his feet.
“He knows how we feel.” The quiet declaration was like a shout.
“No, he doesn’t. He probably thinks we don’t respect him anymore. You can’t even look him in the eye. I was an idiot. You saw his meditation room. He destroyed it. He’s hurting, man. Because of us. We have to make this right. So stop acting like an asshole.” Wicked closed his eyes, and Scarecrow watched as he battled with himself. There was much more going on here than what had happened with Blue. “We’re brothers. We need to support Blue no matter how hard this is. He deserves it. We deserve it. If we don’t, it’s as if we left him behind in battle. I’m not doing that.”
Wicked dropped his head and set his hands on his hips. Scarecrow could feel the struggle in him. “You’re right. Fuck you, but you’re right.”
“Gentlemen,” a female voice said. “Could you identify yourselves?”
He looked up to find a gorgeous dark-haired woman dressed in a suit, her hand resting on the butt end of a gun still in her holster. The guy next to her was sharply dressed in a suit, his piecing blue eyes warning them not to make any sudden moves.
“Arlo Porter and Orion Cross. We’re Navy SEALs. Who wants to k
now?”
“Friends of Ocean Beckett?”
“Yes, we’re here to see him,” Scarecrow said.
“Who the hell are you?” Wicked asked.
“NCIS.” The grave looks on their faces made Scarecrow’s gut clench.
“What happened?”
They explained in quick detail. “We found out that the man who had been following him is part of Irina Komaroff’s crew.”
“Who’s Irina Komaroff?”
“Natasha Golovkin’s older sister. She’s out for blood.”
* * *
San Diego, California
Blue had easily found Charlie’s family estate. It was a good thing he had mad skills at breaking and entering SEAL style. He’d stopped by the base first to pick up what he needed: an Afghan urban assault hook, his navy-issued automatic, face paint, his side arm, and his body armor. He was already geared up, locked, and loaded when he tossed the hook up to the wall. The hooks were designed for scaling the thick, high mud walls typically found surrounding compounds in Afghanistan. Once the hook connected to the top of the wall, the operator could jerk on the folded-up ladder attached to it, which released a swing arm atop the hook. That secondary hook snagged the wall to create a secure anchor point for operators to begin climbing the now fully unfurled ladder.
It worked like a charm on Charlie’s wall. Every sense on alert for danger, he dropped down into a lush garden. He crouched there, taking in the lay of the land. He didn’t want to tip anyone off if they were waiting for him to rush to Charlie to protect her.
He needed a cool head here.
In the past, Navy SEALs used to go through walls with a forty-pound charge. But in this instance, he didn’t want to wake the neighborhood and tip off that bitch’s sister. He was going in, and God help anyone who stood in his way.
He moved through the dense foliage and crouched in the darkness, his eyes moving across the landscape, looking for any threat. When he spied nothing, he raced across some the open patch to the inground pool area. Going down a terraced flight of stairs, he crouched low and moved quickly past the glistening turquoise water as a breeze blew, rustling the bushes and sending the edges of the colorful blue and white umbrellas dotted around the massive pool flapping.