Deadly Chaos

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Deadly Chaos Page 23

by Annette Brownlee


  He’d had at least two flashbacks and as many physical attacks. It was like he’d been in remission, and now the damned garbage was redoubling its efforts. The thought of going back to the condition he’d been in before the rescue terrified him. Just the fact that he’d had to be rescued still ate at him. He should have known something was wrong. He should have been able to save his men.

  He should have died.

  Why the hell hadn’t he died? He rubbed his eyes to push the unwelcome notion out of his mind. But, the flashback brought the memory of his rescue back. He went deeper into the thoughts.

  He could hear the scraping sound the soldiers made when digging a hole into the decrepit building where Cardone kept him shackled. The same feeling of fear that had stole his breath then, was like a vise on his chest now. The suffocating hold eased remembering the confident young captain who led the rescue. Dos had carried the same before his capture. Now he knew better.

  Shaking of the self pity, Dos glanced up at the Colorado blue sky and remembered seeing the star strewn sky as the soldiers had pulled him out of his prison, and the rush of freedom the sight had given him. He could still smell the heaviness of the humid, but fresh air that had chilled his half naked body. Freedom had taken on a new reality for him that night.

  His captivity had taught him a sobering reality. Freedom truly was a gift. He never planned to take it for granted again. The walk down memory lane left him as parched as if he’d been in confinement. Twisting the cap off the bottle he held, Dos chugged the contents. The water did little to slake the feeling of dehydration. Before he could turn to go get another bottle, movement across the street caught his attention.

  The copper haired beauty who owned the massage therapy business on the other side of the street was just getting in. He glanced at his watch, six-thirty. She was early today. At least she gave him something better to concentrate on. He leaned against the window frame. When the backpack she had slung over one shoulder slipped, sunlight glinted off the window. Something about the way it bounced wasn’t right.

  “What the hell?” He pulled open the door and started across the street.

 

 

 


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