Matt tipped his head back against the couch, wearily closing his eyes, feeling her weight, her warmth and curved softness against his body. He felt as close to being in heaven as one could on earth.
Matt had actually learned an ugly secret years ago. Not everyone was cut out to be a soldier or handle combat. Even men and women who joined the military who thought they were found out that they really weren’t. And they didn’t know until some terrible trauma occurred and they realized how vulnerable they were.
Those were the people Matt had seen throughout his career getting hammered by PTSD. There was so much idealism in joining the military, with its talk of being a hero. It had set people up for a shattering fall. They didn’t know how to reconcile their images of what they thought they were doing in combat with the glare of war that ripped away everyone’s rose-colored glasses. Forever.
It was the harshest reality on this earth.
As Matt lay there, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, feeling his own body begin to fully relax for the first time since he’d arrived back at Bagram, he was glad his father was in the military. The three of them—Tal, Alexa, and himself—had gone in with their eyes open, knowing what to expect.
Now, looking back on the time when the three of them were all clamoring to go into the military, Matt smiled to himself. His dad had painted a realistic portrait of combat. He had wanted to give them the truth so they wouldn’t create heroic pictures of themselves being in the military. So often, he’d told them during that sobering discussion, men and women joined to make a difference, seeing themselves as rescuers. Well, the war itself would tear all of that facade away until the gory truth, the eviscerating reality, stared back at them, and few could handle that reality.
How many times had Matt seen men brought to their knees during combat? The Delta soldiers were hardened realists, so combat wasn’t traumatic. It was a way to right wrongs, to help people, to take out bad guys who would murder hundreds of innocents. He remembered Tal and himself listening very closely to their dad because they wanted to be ground-pounders. Alexa had always wanted to fly. She’d had her single-engine civilian airplane, a Boeing Stearman, and was licensed to fly as a student pilot at the age of fifteen. She’d been born with a set of wings, unlike Tal and himself.
He had run into Tal many times at Bagram, either coming off an op or going on one, and she was as steady and reliable in combat as he’d ever seen anyone. Matt attributed it to their father, who had pulled no punches with them. War was bloody. They would see things most human beings never would. And they had to handle it appropriately.
His dad was not a proponent of stuffing down reactions. Instead, he told them there would be times they’d throw up from the horror of seeing what a man could do to another human being. Or, other times, they might need to cry to release the shock or trauma that infested them after coming off an op. He’d given them permission to be human.
Matt never cried in front of anyone, nor did Tal. Instead, when they were both at Bagram at the same time, they’d sat at the Eagle’s Nest one night, nursing cold beers and sharing. Being able to talk to Tal or vice versa, helped Matt deal with it. Both of them, when they needed to cry, searched out a private place where they couldn’t be seen or heard by anyone else.
Dara wasn’t built like that. She had an entirely different personality. And there was no way this woman was a military person. She was a healer, a physician, a lover and protector of mothers, babies, and children. And damn, this woman pulled out that hidden side of himself and allowed him to dream dreams he’d thought he never could. He wanted to be married and have as many children as the woman he loved wanted. He had a powerful yearning within him to be a father, a guide and mentor, and to show his children how to survive and thrive in this world. His father had been all of that to him and his sisters.
Dara held a fragile, hidden side of him in her long, spare hands. She was allowing him to dream of a gentler time in his life that he desperately craved. Matt had never wanted to settle down, but now, with Dara, that was all he wanted. She would be his best friend; they’d laugh together, cry together, and hold one another in those terrible times when shit was happening. They’d celebrate their joys and victories, as well.
Now all he could think about was having Dara as his partner, someone he wanted to come home to every single night. Someone he wanted in his arms. In his bed. Carrying his children. Both of them being loving parents.
Dara inspired him. Of course, his mother and his three Turkish aunts all wanted a grandchild or niece or nephew. Tal was engaged to be married to Wyatt. Now he wanted to be married to Dara. In the past, Tal, Matt, and Alexa had never honestly thought about settling down and having a family, but damned if he wasn’t thinking about exactly that.
Would he need to convince Dara of his dream, or could it be that she was already way ahead of him?
CHAPTER 19
Dara controlled her anxiety as she hurried into the ER and was led by a nurse to the cubicle where Callie had been taken from the Night Stalker Black Hawk that landed ten minutes earlier. It was past midnight, and yet the ER was stacked with injured. It was quiet chaos, with nurses, doctors, and orderlies going about their stress-filled business. The only comfort was that Matt had his arm around her waist, holding her close, supporting her.
As the nurse pulled back the long green curtains that hid the cubicle from everyone’s eyes, Dara saw Callie sitting up on the examination table. Callie’s red hair was a mess, and there were scratches all over her body. Worse, she saw that her sweater was torn open and she was holding it closed with a bloody right hand. A male doctor was examining her left arm, which was broken. Choking back tears, Callie was pale, her eyes dark with pain, her usually full lips now compressed into a thin line.
“Dara!” she cried out, her voice hoarse and shaken.
Dara rapidly assessed her sister’s condition. There were blood splatters all over her face and neck and on the torn sweater she gripped, covering her exposed white bra. Dara’s eyes narrowed. Was that drying brain matter on her sweater? She recognized it but didn’t want to admit it. Something terrible had happened to Callie.
“I’m here, Callie,” she called softly, hurrying into the cubicle.
Matt released her.
Dara rushed past the doctor, whose name was “Brennan, R.,” according to the nameplate on the white lab coat he wore.
“Okay, family only,” Brennan warned, giving Matt a hard, questioning look.
“He’s my fiancé,” Dara shot back, daring him to say anything. “He stays.” She used her firm physician’s voice, and Brennan scowled but said nothing further.
He went back to work, gently examining Callie’s lower arm.
Dara hurried around the end of the gurney, reaching out. “Callie? Are you okay?” She immediately knew she was not. All of Callie’s usual ebullience, her bouncy, energetic personality, was gone, as if a cold, wet blanket had been thrown over it. What had happened to her? Dara saw that Callie’s trousers were muddy and torn, and the waistband snap was ripped open. Oh, God … No!
“Hey,” Callie croaked, trying to smile but failing. “You’re okay. They told us on the flight that you two had been rescued earlier.”
Dara smoothed her sister’s red hair away from her face. It was matted with dust and debris. “Callie, what happened?” She couldn’t keep the strain from her voice as she looked her sister over. It appeared she’d been rolled in the dirt and mud. Callie was filthy in every possible place, with smudges of fine, silty gray dust on her cheeks, hair and neck.
Callie closed her eyes. “I-I can’t talk about it right now, Dara. My arm … it hurts …”
Leaning forward, Dara gently slid her arm around her shoulder. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “Everything’s all right, Callie. You’re here. You’re safe … I was so worried about you … about Beau …”
Tears tracked down through Callie’s dusty cheeks, leaving trails. She sniffed and tried to wipe them away, her hand tr
embling badly. “How is Beau? He saved my life …”
Matt moved around them. “I’ll go find him and see, Callie.” He looked deeply into her pain-filled eyes. “I’ll be right back.” He placed his hand on Dara’s slumped shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze meant to comfort her.
Callie sniffed again and gave a jerky nod to Matt.
Dara pulled a tissue from her pants pocket, slipping it into her sister’s hand. “What happened?” she demanded again, stunned by her sister’s condition. Dara could see she was in deep shock.
“Later,” she muttered, wiping her eyes. “I’m so desperately in need of a shower, Dara.” She choked, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just a shower …”
“I’m having her taken to X-ray,” the doctor said. He looked Callie up and down. “Do you need rape counseling, Ms. McKinley?”
Dara’s gaze flew from Brenner to Callie. Rape?
“N-no. Just get me something for the pain in my arm, okay?” she asked the doctor.
Brennan gave a brisk nod and said, “I’ll get an orderly to take you to X-ray. In the meantime, please lie down.”
Callie grimaced as the doctor left. “He’s got the bedside manner of an unfeeling alligator,” she rasped, wiping her eyes with the damp tissue.
Dara came closer, her arm around Callie’s shoulders. “Rape? Were you raped, Callie?” She tried to hold it together, not really wanting to hear Callie say yes, but her clothes were torn, dirty, bloodied, and tinged with brain matter. Even now, Dara could see bruising around her slender throat. What had happened?”
“Almost raped,” she croaked. Callie trembled and lay her head on Dara’s shoulder. “It was awful, Dara. We were on the run. The Taliban was closing in on us. Beau had me hide behind a big tree and he was going to come up behind the group and take them out. There were two Taliban on horseback coming right toward us.” Tears dribbled down her cheeks and she licked her lips, tasting the salt, the grit of dirt on them.
Dara held her breath, her heart breaking with shock. “What happened?”
She gave Dara a stricken look. “If I’d listened to Beau? Instead of running because I panicked as they got closer to me? I’d have been okay.” She wiped her tears with a trembling hand. “But I ran, Dara. I disobeyed Beau, and I ran. They spotted me because I moved,” she muttered, lifting her head, straightening and trying to move her shoulders to get rid of the tension. “They were on top of me in seconds. They leaped off their horses and grabbed me. Then I saw so many other Taliban on foot running toward me as they threw me on the ground. I started screaming and fighting them. Beau heard me and came running back to where he’d hidden me.” She closed her eyes. “God, they took me down, yanked my sweater, tearing it, pawing at me. And they were holding me by my wrists and ankles, Dara. They’d gotten my trousers down when Beau attacked them.” She pressed her hand to her eyes, a sob escaping her. “It was—horrible …”
Dara held her gently in her arms. Callie gripped her with her good arm, clinging to her, as if afraid that if she released her, she would be lost forever. “I’m so sorry, Callie … God, this is awful … at least you weren’t raped. That’s the good news.”
Dara felt a huge sob growing in Callie. She held her and stroked her dusty, mussed hair, wishing she could get her to a shower and help her clean up. She smelled of sweat and fear, and Dara forced herself not to cry with Callie. What she needed right now was for Dara to be the strong one, to care for her and give her a sense of safety. She immediately shifted into her doctor mode.
An orderly came in. Dara gave him a hard look and a firm shake of her head, warning him silently to come back later. The young man hesitated, saw the situation, lifted his hand, and nodded, quietly exiting.
Soothing her little sister, Dara kept whispering, “You’re safe now, Callie. You’re safe. It’s going to be all right. You’re in shock right now, and I’m sure you feel like you’re flying apart inside.”
This was so much worse than she could ever have imagined. Brave, vital Callie was now reduced to a huddled, frightened mouse, her eyes wild with terror, dark with anguish, with guilt. Dara had never seen her like this before. Callie was in pain from her arm, traumatized by the near rape and the threat of a horrific death. Dara had been lucky in comparison, with Matt at her side. He hadn’t allowed the Taliban near them, thanks to his skills and abilities.
“How is Beau?” Callie croaked, lifting her head, no longer trying to stop the tears from running down her dirty face. “He was injured. My God, Dara, he took all of them on. One man against fifteen of those sick, murdering bastards. He exposed himself to save me, Dara. I put him in danger. He could have been killed. They shot him in the leg …” She pressed her hand to her face, bowing her head, a wracking sob tearing out of her.
Matt entered quietly, his gaze cutting to Dara.
Dara saw the mask on his face, the tightness of his mouth, his eyes alive with emotions. “Get me the head nurse,” she asked Matt. “Now, please?”
He nodded and left.
In moments, the head nurse, an Army major, entered the cubicle.
Dara said, “I’m Dr. Dara McKinley. This is my sister, Callie. She’s been through hell. I need you to authorize women only to assist her, no men. And I need to get her cleaned up. Is it possible to put a stabilizing splint on her arm for now? It appears to be a closed break.”
The nurse nodded. “Yes. I’ll get a woman doctor to take over here. Stay put.”
Matt entered and stood at the end of the examination table, saying nothing but assessing Callie’s condition. Her sobs stopped and she lifted her head, her eyes swimming with tears.
“Beau?” she asked Matt in a trembling voice.
“He’s okay,” Matt said soothingly. “Took a bullet to the calf, but it went clean through. They’re patching him up right now, Callie. They’ll release him in probably half an hour, and he’ll be good to go. He’s coming back to be with you.”
Pressing her hand to her chest across the torn sweater, she whispered, “Oh, thank God …”
Dara motioned to the table. “Matt, can you get me a gown over there for Callie? I want to get her out of these filthy clothes right now.”
Matt walked over and handed her a gown. “Call me when I can come back in?”
“Yes, I will,” Dara said. “Can you just stand guard out there? The head nurse is getting her a removable splint. Please let her in, but don’t let anyone else in until I’m done dressing Callie. And if that jerk Dr. Brennan comes back, tell him he’s been removed from her case.”
“You got it,” Matt murmured, trying to curb a grin. Dara was pissed off, no question. The blaze of anger in her eyes was something to behold. His woman could command legions with that voice and that look. She had one hell of a spine when she wanted to trot it out and utilize it. Matt would keep that in mind for future reference. She was his lioness in disguise and it warmed his heart. When the chips were down, Dara was plucky and brave. Now he was seeing her guard dog side with Callie. She’d be the same way with her children. A fierce mother protector if needed. A modern-day Sekhmet.
The head nurse quickly returned with the removable splint. “You wash the area, Dr. McKinley, and then I’ll place this support on her broken arm,” she said.
In minutes, Callie had a waterproof, removable splint, and Dara could already see relief from the pain in her eyes. She thanked the nurse, who then left. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” she murmured. “You’ll feel better in a clean gown.”
Dara held her tears and her anguish deep inside herself. Right now, Callie needed her to be strong, guiding, and supportive. After getting her into the gown, which fell to her knees, Dara saw bruising all over her body, front and back. And so many scratches and gouges! She didn’t know the details yet, but Dara strongly suspected they’d held Callie down on rough, rocky ground. A shudder of terror combined with rage tore through Dara.
She swallowed hard, trying to present a calm exterior. In a matter of minutes, she had put Callie beneat
h the warm covers of the gurney, tucking the blankets up to her waist as she sat up and relaxed. Grabbing another cloth, Dara fashioned a sling for her sister’s left arm. As soon as she tied it around her neck, Callie sighed.
“That feels so much better,” she whispered, leaning back against the gurney, closing her eyes. “Thanks, sis. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here …”
Dara heard the terror, shock, and trauma in her trembling voice. It shook her because she’d never seen Callie reduced to this level before. “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” she promised her sister firmly, her voice cracking with emotions barely under her control.
*
“How is Callie doing?” Matt asked as he came to a halt outside her private room. Dara was standing there, waiting for him. He could read the tension in her eyes and her mouth. Lifting his hand, he eased it around her shoulders, drawing her against him. He groaned as Dara came willingly, pressing her brow against his jaw, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist.
“I just got done taking her to the women’s locker room for a shower,” she said wearily. “I washed her hair. Right now, she just needs some comforting, not being poked or prodded at.”
Matt took a deep breath. “I just got done seeing Beau in the ER. They’re releasing him shortly. He said that he hid Callie behind a tree, told her not to move. He then tried to get behind the Taliban group coming toward them. They were on the slope of the mountain when he knew he had to confront the group or they’d catch up with them. It was going to be a firefight, so he hid Callie well. He ordered her to stay and not move. He didn’t know how many were coming their way, either.” His voice became gruff. “Beau was skirting the party when he heard Callie start screaming. He dropped his plan and ran back toward her cries. They had taken her down on the ground, four men holding her while one ripped at her sweater. The other man was yanking off her trousers.”
Forged in Fire (Delos Series Book 3) Page 26