by SE Jakes
Dash held his breath when Lucky got to the stack he’d been waiting for. Lucky had taken his time with the first two batches. Both places Lucky had been as a SEAL.
Lucky took an interest in them, although Cooper had told him that wasn’t the right word. These places were a part of Lucky—he’d been drawn to Dash’s photos from the start and ultimately Dash, because of that.
“So wait…the feelings he has for me…you’re saying it might only be some kind of transference?” Dash had asked.
Cooper had shrugged.
“I fucking hate shrinks and their non-answer answers,” he’d told the man.
Now, that conversation was etched in his mind as he watched Lucky begin to lay out the photos on the floor as he’d done with the others. It looked like a big puzzle he was trying to make sense of…
He sat back on his heels and stared. Like he’d done with the other pictures, he hadn’t really looked at them until they were all laid out in front of him.
Lucky tilted his head as he stared, and Dash moved closer to the computer screen, looking for the recognition. A look of horror or satisfaction, the lift of a brow, a subtle change of expression. Anything.
But Lucky looked no different than he had when perusing the other photos. A look of appreciation, a look of frustration that maybe this scratched the wall put up between his past and present…but it wasn’t enough to slam through it. Not even close.
And if those pictures didn’t do it…
He sat back and breathed out, frustrated. Dash’s memories were coming to the surface all too easily and he hated it. He watched the pictures—how Lucky put them in an order Dash wouldn’t have picked himself but he had to admit it worked better—and he could point to each picture and retrace his steps.
This is where Jim and I infiltrated.
This is where Jim and I got captured.
This is the last place I saw Jim alive.
The difference was, Dash had seen the body. Escaped with Jim’s body bag…saw the DNA.
Twenty-four hours after Jim was killed, the SEAL team with Rex and Lucky had come in and Dash had escaped.
He’d seen Lucky’s scars.
He had them too. He just wore them on the inside.
Dash accompanied Lucky to his afternoon therapy session. Cooper looked less than pleased, but Dash didn’t give a shit.
“Hey Lucky, can you grab me a soda?” Cooper asked after the men had walked in.
Lucky rolled his eyes. “If you want time alone to talk about me, could just say that,” he called over his shoulder as he walked out.
“He really is a smartass,” Cooper muttered. “And what the hell are you thinking, spending time with him like this?”
“You’re not finding any evidence that he’s a traitor. I like him, Cooper. If he’s not a traitor, he’s a decorated naval hero.”
“That’s true. But it’s more complicated than that, and you know it. From all accounts, Josh Kent was an exemplary SEAL. Calm. Collected. Never showed violent tendencies. His testing from then and now, it’s eerily similar. I can’t see him suddenly turning violent, even if he remembers.”
“But you’re worried because he does have specialized training.”
“Maybe. He seems to sense that. I’ve confirmed that he never used excessive force at his job. He’s been briefed in that. It’s been demonstrated to him in a controlled environment in case it triggered something. I was hoping it would.”
“So nothing worked.”
“Hypnosis was a bust. Drugging him was worse. Showing him the lie detector test tapes did nothing but upset him. Same with talking to Rex. The only thing I haven’t done is recreate the torture. And I won’t do that,” Cooper said.
“Suppose I asked you to?” Dash turned to see Lucky holding three sodas as he strolled across the room. “Sorry, was I supposed to knock?”
“See, it’s stuff like that—he remembers how to sneak up on people,” Cooper muttered. “Doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”
“I knew what I was doing this time, Doctor,” Lucky said.
“Forget it, Lucky,” Dash told him. “We’re not recreating the torture.”
“Cooper said it might work.”
“And as you’ve pointed out to me many times, why would you want to remember that torture? This is a specific kind of therapy. What you’re talking about is barbaric. I won’t do it—not even at a pretend level.” Cooper put his hands on Lucky’s shoulders, stared at him. “Remember, Lucky, there’s no reason to go back there now.”
After a long moment, Lucky jerked away from him and turned to Dash. “Then you do it.”
Dash opened his mouth and then closed it. Lucky gave a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Guess that’s not a no.”
“Lucky—”
“I’m ready to start anytime. Set it up,” he commanded.
“This isn’t happening on my watch,” Cooper said.
Dash turned away to face the window.
“If this is my last shot to prove that I didn’t do anything wrong, don’t you think I have the right to choose if I’ll take it or not?” he asked Dash.
“You want me to do something that might cause you PTSD—or worse. You’re free, Lucky—” Dash started.
Lucky pulled at his shoulder so Dash was forced to face him again. “Free? Really? Coming in here constantly for monitoring makes me free?”
“It could be worse,” Dash said.
Chapter Nineteen
Lucky slammed out of Cooper’s office. Dash didn’t follow him and Lucky was half pissed and half glad about that.
Neither man would help him. Which meant Rex would probably refuse too and really, how could Lucky ask Rex to go through something he’d already survived, even if it was a simple simulation?
He didn’t go back to the apartment—not right away. Maybe he was trying to see if Dash could really find him wherever he went, or maybe he wanted to worry him. But he spent the next couple of hours walking around, sitting in a park, watching kids play.
Did he ever do that? He pictured his background as a child like some deep, dark disturbing hole, with a definite lack of toys and laughter.
Talking about it with Rex had made him sad, and it made him want to know more. But the thing was, there were only so many things Rex could tell him. Rex hadn’t lived it.
And you can’t remember it.
He stayed until it was dark. Until his stomach growled. Until he realized he missed two check-ins, and he wondered if they’d sent someone after him.
It was only when he stood to leave that he realized they had.
“How long have you been there?” he asked Dash as he passed him on his way out of the park.
“As long as you have.”
“Fucker,” Lucky muttered.
“You’re coming with me.”
“Where’s that?”
“Just follow me to the goddamned car.” Now Dash was angry and Lucky was pissed that he was.
A big circle of pissed off, that’s what they were.
“Are you taking me back to Cooper?” he asked once he got inside the rental car.
“No.” Dash gunned the car out of the parking lot next to the park and headed into an area Lucky didn’t recognize at all.
“Then where?”
“You used to live in this area.”
“So what? You want me to get more upset that I can’t remember where I used to live?”
“If you want to.” Dash pulled into a driveway and then a garage. He waited until it closed behind him before getting out of the car, and Lucky followed him.
He guessed this was Dash’s house—a house he was renting, since it had none of the personality his apartment in South Africa did. “Why are we here?”
“Why not?” Dash asked.
Lucky felt his fists tighten involuntarily. He unclenched them just as fast, took a deep breath. “What do you want from me, Dash?”
Dash turned on him fiercely. “I want you to be angry. To give
a shit.”
“You think I don’t give a shit?”
“No, I don’t. You’re all calm and cool. Everything’s fine. You’re all understanding. Nothing’s a big deal. You ask me to fucking torture you like it’s no bigger deal than buying you dinner.”
“For you, I didn’t think it would be.”
Dash pressed his lips together, shook his head. Pointed at Lucky. “See, it’s shit like that—that’s how I know you’re pissed, deep down.”
Lucky wasn’t about to tell him it wasn’t nearly as deep down as he’d like it to be. “So you’re going to push me to get angry? Like I’m the Hulk or something?”
“Go for it.”
“No. You don’t know what I’m capable of. Neither do I.”
“And that’s what this is all about.” A statement rather than a question and Lucky guessed Dash saw through something even Lucky himself hadn’t fully admitted to. At least not until right now.
“So what if it is? It’s a legitimate concern. Even Cooper talked about it.”
“Cooper said he didn’t think you were violent. That even if you’d been holding back, you wouldn’t have been able to hang onto a violent hair-trigger temper for four years and counting.”
“Maybe no one’s pissed me off enough.”
“Then let me be the first.” Dash paused. “Is that why you want to simulate the torture? That way if you lose it, you’ll be in a controlled environment?”
“I want my memory back. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get it.”
Dash slammed him, two hands on his chest, and Lucky went back and hit the wall. Hard. He pushed off and headed for Dash, then stopped.
“Go on. Do your worst.”
“Fuck. You.”
“Until you do it, you’re never going to know if you can fight and still control yourself. Unless you’re scared to find out you’re not as tough as they say you were.”
“You really think that’s going to goad me into fighting you?”
“I hope so.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“I’ve already hurt you,” Dash whispered. “Come on, hurt me.”
“So we’ll be even.”
“We’ll never be even. Best I can hope for is you forgiving me.”
Lucky swallowed, felt the anger rise. “Don’t you give me that shit—that pity shit.”
“I don’t pity you. But I don’t understand how you can be so fucking nice to me, after I turned you in. Why? I know you’re pissed. I know you must feel betrayed. But all you’ve done is let me in further. Why?”
“Right now, I don’t know.”
“I see you trying to hold it in. You’re never going to know what you’re capable of unless you let it out. So take it out on me, Lucky. I can handle you. Always could.”
He went for Dash. Tackled him to the ground. Dash used his weight against him and rolled them both until Lucky hit the back of the couch hard.
It forced Lucky off of Dash, and Dash used that opportunity to pin Lucky to the ground, a hand on his throat. Lucky smiled and when Dash frowned, he pushed up hard, knocking a surprised Dash over. And then they were up, circling each other. Lucky swung at Dash, connecting with his right cheekbone, and then he used a few fast uppercuts to get Dash in the solar plexus.
With Dash trying to catch his breath, he knocked the man’s knees out from under him, pinned him, a forearm across his throat. He looked down into Dash’s face and that’s when he lost it.
Dash rolled him—Lucky would try to recreate it later, because it was a damned good move to know, but with zero luck—and Lucky ended up on his belly on the ground, Dash on him with a stranglehold.
The fight went on like that for what seemed like forever, until they were both breathing hard. Lucky’s lip was bleeding. Dash’s jaw ached. Their clothes were torn, and neither man was a clear winner.
What was clear was that Dash could control him. And Lucky did have a measure of control that he seemed relieved by.
Dash ended up pinning Lucky to the floor, barely. Asked, “Do you forgive me?”
“What the fuck—shouldn’t I be asking that about you?” Lucky gasped, looked confused.
“Think about it, Lucky. There was a reason you were in that jungle. Everything you’ve been through has been because of that. Everything happened because of those CIA agents. So I’m going to ask again—can you forgive me?”
Dash eased up on the grip, and Lucky turned onto his side, looked up into Dash’s face and suddenly he knew exactly what the man was talking about. “You’re not Navy.”
“No,” Dash whispered. “I know you were told what the mission was about.”
“We were sent in to rescue two captured CIA agents.” As soon as the words came out of Lucky’s mouth, he knew he was looking at one of them. “One died. And one escaped. You’re CIA.”
“Yes.”
“You’re the agent who escaped.”
Dash nodded. “It’s my fault you don’t have a memory. Even if you were turned, that would be on me.”
“You weren’t trying to get captured.”
“No,” Dash agreed. “But I pushed ahead on that mission, ignored my gut to turn back. I fucked my partner over, and then an entire SEAL team. I have to live with that, with every single consequence born of that. I didn’t know the SEALs had been captured until they’d been released,” he admitted. “I was hurt. Delirious. A local family found me passed out in their field, took me in. By the time I was healthy enough to track down a phone, I’d learned about the goatfuck that happened.”
“Were you taken off the case?”
“Technically, yes. It was too dangerous to chase the men who’d captured me. And when they never seemed to make a move to find me or Rex or Nate or Uncle, the CIA kept looking. And since I didn’t know if Rex, Nate or Uncle had been turned, I watched them. They were my best lead, because the terrorist who’d kidnapped us had gone underground, and I knew sussing him back out would take years.”
“But you always believed I was alive.”
“Always. But you managed to surprise the hell out of me, Lucky.”
Dash wasn’t sure how Lucky was going to react. He waited, held his breath, and while he saw a natural flood of emotions, it was clear that no memories had been triggered.
No anger either. Lucky brushed his bruised cheek gently as he asked, “All this time, you were actually looking for me?”
Dash didn’t deny it. No point in hiding it any longer. “I spent most of the time following Nate, because he was more mobile than Uncle. Uncle stayed in one place, so he was easier to keep track of. But Nate rarely sat still, and that made us suspicious. And I stayed away from my home because I didn’t know if he was hunting me just as much as I was hunting him.”
“So you followed the guy you thought might be working for the men who tried to kill you.”
“Yes.”
“But Nate’s showing up at the bar…that was all chance. He was just there to surf.”
“Yes.”
Lucky started. “Oh, fuck…you thought Nate might be going after your family.”
Dash nodded. “But you were already there. Living with them.”
Lucky shook his head like he was trying to process everything. “You must’ve been scared for them.”
“Scared’s one word. But when Nate found you and you had no clue what was going on, I had to make sure it wasn’t an act. Maybe Nate knew I was on to him and you guys cooked up an amnesia plan.”
“You thought I might be a terrorist. Someone who wanted to kill you.”
“Yes.”
“So you fucked me.”
“I told you before, Lucky, it’s part of my job. I needed you to open up and trust me.” As soon as the words started coming out of his mouth, Dash wanted to pull them all back. But Lucky needed to know everything about him.
“Are you trying to be honest or are you hoping I’ll get pissed and tell you to get the fuck out?”
“A little of both.”
> “What do you want me to say, Dash? That it hurts to know your fucking me was a job?”
“If you think that, then say it.”
“I think it started that way. I think you wanted to believe that and yeah, you’re a good liar. But you weren’t one hundred percent acting that night. I think that’s what you’re the most freaked about.”
Dash wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t. The guy had no memories, but every single operator’s instinct was there. His ability to read people was frightening.
Dash had met his match in more ways than training.
“Just answer me one question,” Lucky said, didn’t wait before continuing, “Are you most worried that you can never fully trust that I’m not plotting to turn you into that terrorist?”
“I could let that worry me, Lucky. Not going to lie. Unfortunately, in my line of work, everyone I know’s trying to do that.”
“You’re as lonely as I am,” Lucky said.
Dash could only nod. “Been lonely for a long time, but I never forced a relationship because of it.”
“How long were you captured for?” Lucky asked.
Dash knew how many days the SEALs were captured for. Josh Kent’s number was always slightly shorter, but now, it looked like he’d probably been held the longest of all of them.
“Three days,” Dash said, feeling so incredibly stupid for saying so. Three days to the months and months of torture Lucky and his team had endured.
But Lucky, fucking incredible man that he was, took Dash’s face in his hands and told him, “This isn’t a contest. One hour’s still long enough to fuck you up. But you can’t let it, because then they win.”
He blinked at the simple truth behind Lucky’s words. For years, the man sitting next to him had been his goal. Now, that objective was met, mission complete and he was lost.
He didn’t know what he’d expected, that Lucky would admit he’d been tortured. Because Lucky had nothing to do with Jim’s death and everything to do with Dash’s escape. He owed Lucky his life—literally—and for the past four years, he’d taken it upon himself to hunt Lucky down like a dog and charge him and his team with treason.
Now, that man was here—no evidence of treason. No memories…and Dash didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do next.