Hero of My Heart (The McRae Series, Book 5 - Will)

by Teresa Hill

  "Just before you landed, reps seventeen and shallow, heart rate one-twenty. No problems with the airway or bleeding."

  "Good." He nodded toward the IV site. Will had left the access point in, just in case. "You do that?"

  "Yes. She was dehydrated. I gave her two liters of saline, all that I had."

  "Tell me about the head injury."

  "I think she has a mild concussion. She's had brief periods where she was alert and oriented to time and person, but not place. Seems to have some short-term memory loss. Confused, agitated at times, but mostly sleeping. Responds to painful stimuli. Pupils respond to light, but the right's sluggish. Been that way since the first time I checked them. Might be getting a little worse over time. I'm not sure."

  He feared he was having trouble remaining objective about her. He really wanted her to be okay.

  "We got knocked into a wall getting out of the place where she was held hostage," Will said. "I'm afraid her head got the worst of it. That was about ten hours ago."

  "Okay." The medic pulled a tiny light out of a pocket. "I want to start by checking her pupils myself."

  Will told Amanda, and she let the medic do that with no problem, plus feel his way around her skull to check for any other damage.

  "So, mild concussion?" Will asked.

  "That would be my first guess. You know how this goes? Scan and observe, most likely."

  Will knew. He and lots of his friends had gotten their heads bashed in on one mission or another over the years. Head injuries could be tricky. Sometimes, they seemed like no big deal, but got worse over time. Sometimes. She'd probably be fine. Objectively, he knew that.

  The medic wanted to attach monitors for her heart and oxygen in her blood. She let him slip the pulse ox over the end of her finger with no problem, but when he tried to push her shirt aside to attach the cardiac leads, she fought him.

  The medic shot Will a look, asking a question Will hadn't wanted to consider, but he'd seen her torn shirt, the way she'd seemed to shrink away even from Will and pull inside of herself.

  "I don't know," Will said. "Anything could have happened before I got to her."

  The medic held out the cardiac leads to Will. "See if she'll let you do this."

  She did. She didn't like it, shrank away even from his hands, but she let him do it. He didn't move her shirt aside, just slipped the leads beneath it from the top and the bottom, moving as slowly as he could and trying not to touch her with anything but the little sticky pads that went against her skin.

  He hated the idea of her being scared of him, of any man.

  She let the medic check her ribs with her shirt still in place, and then he watched the cardiac monitor and seemed satisfied that everything else could wait until they reached the hospital.

  Will hadn't even thought to ask where that would be. "We're going to Djibouti?"

  The medic nodded. It was the closest base, in a tiny country on the east coast of Africa that hardly anyone had heard of, but the U.S. military's African Command was based there. Normally, a Quick Reaction Force Team and a SEAL Team were also there. They might be preparing right now to go into Buhkai, unless they were already on another mission when everything went to hell there.

  Djibouti wasn't far. She'd be in a doctor's hands very soon. Soon after that, she'd either be on her way to a bigger hospital at a base in Europe, or on her way home, and Will would be... He didn't know where he'd be.

  He felt a little uneasy about not knowing how she was after this.

  Will had rescued hostages before, but it was usually quick, and a team effort, and even then, he'd wondered afterward how the hostages fared. With her, he'd have to know.

  He'd call Sam, he decided. That was all he'd have to do. Sam knew her father. He'd be able to find out how she was. Problem solved.

  And she would be fine. As long as all those kids got out alive. She'd put this behind her and get on with her life. It would be nothing but a blip. He wanted that for her, for this to be nothing but a really bad moment in her otherwise golden life.

  Her father was a U.S. ambassador, after all.

  Her life was the furthest thing in the world from his.

  * * *

  Baxter, Ohio

  "I think I remember a little about being in the helicopter," she said. "All those hands on me. They scared me."

  "The medics are used to getting critical patients, working fast—"

  "Of course. I didn't mean to imply they'd done anything wrong."

  "So, that was it. We made it to Djibouti with no problem."

  "So, all that time we were on the ground in Buhkai, it was just you and me? You were the only one there?"

  He hesitated, looked a little... She couldn't begin to read his expression. He could keep it so completely blank when he wanted to. And now, he just sat there, on the floor of all places, in the corner, because that's what she'd needed to do to feel a little bit better about this.

  "No one works alone in this business," he said finally. "I had a buddy on the end of the phone line, gathering intel. I had your father, pulling together help incredibly quickly when we needed it—"

  "I know that, but on the ground, it was all you? I had no idea," she said. "All anyone said was that American soldiers came to get me out. I never thought to question that."

  "They did. The helicopter had Air Force pilots and Army medics. You were at military hospitals with military doctors and nurses in Djibouti and Germany."

  "That isn't what I meant," she said. "I can't believe what you did for me."

  "Amanda—"

  "Did you even have orders to rescue me?"

  "Technically, no. But I didn't have orders not to, either."

  He made it sound perfectly reasonable. Charge into the middle of a hostage situation in an unstable African country, all by himself, and save her.

  "Hey, it worked out," he said. "Your father smoothed some things over at the right time, and somebody sent a helicopter to pick us up. No problem."

  Which meant he'd taken a serious risk with his career, interfering in a situation like that in a country that was far from stable, without U.S. government approval, just to save her.

  She was in awe, more than ever before.

  "I have no idea how to begin to thank you—"

  "You did already," he said, looking uneasy again.

  "I couldn't have properly thanked you. I didn't even know everything you'd done."

  "Well, now you do and you have."

  "If I'd known it was just the two of us that whole time, I would have been even more determined to find you, to ask you what happened." Maybe he'd realized that and not wanted her to know.

  For certain, her father would have known. Maybe he was the one who'd decided to keep this from Amanda. He was the one who'd told her most of what she had known about her rescue.

  She looked back at Will, who was wearing that blank expression of his that frustrated her so much.

  "If you want to do something for me," he said finally, "don't ever put yourself in that kind of danger again. I don't care who's looking out for you, if you have your own personal army. Don't do it."

  "I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a long time," she confessed, deciding to let this go and move on. "So, we were in the helicopter. They dropped us off in Djibouti? Then what?"

  He wouldn't look at her anymore. He looked at the floor, the ceiling, the table, anywhere but at her.

  God.

  What was left?

  "It's not... It's nothing... new that happened to you. Nothing like that. Emma said I had to tell you, and... Shit, I'm sorry."

  She didn't get it. What could possibly have happened at the hospital?

  * * *

  Djibouti, Africa

  January 17th

  The Blackhawk landed safely in Djibouti.

  Will held Amanda's hand as she was carried into the small base hospital. He and the medics told the medical staff all they knew about her condition and what had happened to her.<
br />
  Amanda gripped Will's hand fiercely and wouldn't let go, so he went with her into the treatment area and sat by her side, telling her she was safe on a U.S. military base.

  She opened her eyes and stared at him like she'd never seen him before.

  He could imagine what he looked like—dusty, dirty, sweaty, with his hair too long, no telling how many days since he'd shaved, remnants of camouflage paint still smeared on his face. He hoped the sight of him didn't scare her, but she had those big, sad eyes fixed firmly on him, her lower lip trembling again. He was afraid she was going to cry.

  He hated that, more than he'd ever hated the idea of any woman crying. Usually, it made him uncomfortable and left him not knowing what to do, and sometimes it made him mad, because a lot of women put a lot of fake drama into their lives. He had no interest in that.

  But there wasn't anything fake about this. He didn't think it was because he scared her, either. He thought he saw deep-down sadness and exhaustion and fear in her, and it broke his heart.

  "We need to undress her and check for other injuries," the nurse said.

  "Oh. I'll be right outside." But Amanda wouldn't let go of his hand. "Amanda, do you want me to stay?"

  "No," she whispered. "But I don't want you to go, either."

  "Why don't you step to the other side of the curtain," the nurse said, "until we get a gown on her and a sheet over her. Is that all right honey?"

  Amanda nodded.

  Will waited right there. Long minutes went by, longer than it should take to get her clothes off and something else on her. Then he heard Amanda start sobbing, one of the most heart-broken sounds he'd ever heard.

  God, he hoped he was wrong about what he was thinking. He might have actually been praying, which would have been really odd, because he didn't pray. He didn't believe in any kind of omnipotent outside power, and he didn't ask it for help.

  But for her, he would.

  She probably believed in God and every sort of goodness and kindness in the world. She taught five-year-olds, for Christ's sake.

  The nurse came out, pulled him away from the curtain and around the corner.

  "What's wrong?" he demanded.

  "I'm afraid she was raped."

  And it took everything Will could do not to put his fist through the wall. Mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch...

  The fear, the cowering away from him, the way she seemed to be trying to sink inside of herself? There it was. That was why.

  "I thought I'd gotten to her in time," he said finally. In that moment, he hated every second it had taken him to get there, and everyone in that godforsaken country, and the idea of men who thought they had the right to take anything they wanted from women without fear of punishment.

  "We need to do a rape kit," the nurse said, "and she doesn't want to let us."

  "Not for evidence, you don't," he said. "She's not military. She's a civilian. And the person who did this to her is not in the military, not a U.S. citizen. It happened in a country where the U.S. has no legal jurisdiction and rape isn't even considered a crime. So there's no way this would ever be prosecuted."

  "Okay. I'll tell the doctor in charge that, but even if we don't collect evidence, we have to examine and treat her, for her own health and safety. And she doesn't want to let us do that, either. You're the only one here she seems to trust. Could you tell her we really need to do this?"

  Grimly, Will nodded.

  "One more thing? She's not clear on the timing. We have medication we can give her, to keep her from getting pregnant from the attack, but it has to be given within seventy-two hours."

  "The hostage situation began less than twenty-four hours ago," he said.

  "Good. One less thing for her to worry about. Let me try one more time to talk her into letting us treat her. While I do that, why don't you go clean up a bit, try to look a little less mad and scary?"

  Good point, if it was possible.

  He found a bathroom just down the hall, washed the grime off his face, then stuck his head under the sink, hoping the cold water would help clear his mind as well. He tried to school his expression, tamp down his anger, too, but that certainly wasn't as easy to do.

  The nurse came back to get him a few minutes later. He walked back into the treatment area and sat down.

  "Amanda?" he said softly.

  He waited until she opened his eyes and looked at him, then held out his hand to her. She put her hand in his, looking small and miserable there on the bed, begging him with her eyes to make it all go away.

  He wished he could. He could do so many things that most people couldn't, but not this...

  "You have to let them take care of you," he said.

  She shook her head, back and forth, crying.

  "Yes, you do. For your own sake," he said. "Let them, and I'll stay with you, if you want. I'll sit right here."

  Jesus Christ, he didn't want to do that. But he would, if it helped her get through this. If she had to face this, he could, too. It couldn't be nearly as hard on him as it would be for her.

  "We'll just pretend none of this is happening. We'll think about something else." He'd done that often enough when he was a kid and needed the whole world to go away. He was an expert at it. "You can tell me about anything you want. You can ask me anything you want. What do you say?"

  She just cried softly, breaking his heart even more.

  Even all beaten up and bruised and a complete mess, she was a beautiful girl and so terribly young.

  Twenty-six.

  He was outraged at the idea of a world in which she could be hurt this way. It wasn't right. So many things weren't. He knew that. He fought to make things right, as much as one man could, and he felt like he'd failed her.

  "Amanda, please," he said. "They just want to make sure you're okay. Please."

  She finally nodded her consent. The nurse said she was certified to do this basic exam herself and wouldn't need to call a doctor unless Amanda needed stitches or something like that.

  Stitches?

  Will tried hard not to wince at the thoughts that brought to mind. Exactly what would need stitching? He feared he was grinding his teeth and had to work consciously for a few moments to stop.

  This wasn't about him.

  So he leaned over the bed at her shoulder, blocking her view of anything the nurse might do. Then he looked down at her, forced a smile across his face, and said, "So, where do you want to go?"

  She looked even more confused. "What?"

  "We don't need to be here for this."

  "I don't understand."

  "Something I learned as a kid." He never talked about this, but he figured if anyone deserved not to be in her own head right now, it was Amanda Warren. "You don't ever have to really be where you are. You can go anywhere in your head. I used to like thinking I had a motorcycle, because they're so fast. I figured you could get away from anybody on the right one of those. What about you? If you could go anywhere right now, where would it be?"

  "I don't know—"

  "Want to hear about my motorcycle?"

  "Okay." She latched onto that idea, and for a minute, she didn't look so hurt, so scared.

  "It's shiny and black, of course, with chrome accents. It rumbles, and you feel it through your whole body, and it's loud, and then there's the wind rushing by. It's like the wind creates a barrier between you and the rest of the world, but in a way it brings you right into the world, too, because you're out in the air, with the trees, the sky, the sunshine. Ever take a ride on a bike?"

  "Not like that," she whispered.

  "Oh, you've got to do it. There's nothing like it."

  "Where do you go?"

  He laughed. "Wherever I want to go. A bike can go anywhere."

  "Where do you like to go?"

  "When I got my first bike, I was fourteen, I think. It was a piece of junk, but I got enough parts to make the engine decent. I didn't have a license, but I didn't let that stop me, you know? Well, you probably do
n't. I'm betting you weren't a rule-breaker."

  "No, I wasn't."

  "Well, I was. My favorite place to ride was across this bridge over the Ohio River, onto the Kentucky side. There was a great old road that followed the river, twisting and turning, big, tall trees on one side, a few houses hanging off the narrow bank, and the water on the other. I'd drive along that road, and then get on another bridge and come back along the other side. It was pretty, nobody to bother you, nothing you really had to think about. It was perfect."

  At some point, the nurse had started working, speaking softly to tell Amanda what she was going to do before she did it. So Will heard everything, too, and it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He had to try not to react to any of it, to not let anything show in his face. And keep talking about things that didn't matter.

  Amanda turned her head to the side and looked like she was trying to sink down into the mattress and disappear. He leaned down toward her and eventually, his head was on the mattress beside her, his hand on the side of her face, his arm and shoulder shielding her, he hoped, from seeing anything except him. He wanted to create their own little world, just him and her and anything he could think about to distract her from what was being done to her.

  Things that clearly hurt her and made him want to hit a wall again, made him want to put a bullet through someone. No, something slower and more painful. A knife, he decided.

  The doctor came in, finally.

  To stitch her up.

  God.

  Will talked about places he'd been on the various bikes he'd owned, his favorite rides, and he took her along. He wouldn't mind at all having her on the back of his bike. She let him pick the place, and he decided they'd do the Pacific Coast Highway.

  The views are incredible, he told her, all ocean and sky, winding roads and cliffs with no guardrails. She's a little apprehensive, and she hangs onto him as they lean into the curves, but she is perfectly safe with him.

  The air is incredible, coming off the ocean. They see eagles. Soon he'll make sure she sees the sea lions, because he thinks she'll like them, and maybe some whales.

  He'd made the drive all the way to Vancouver and back once, on leave when he'd been stationed in Coronado. Best vacation of his life. She should make that trip for real one day, he told her, and he found himself promising he'd take her himself. They'd do it when they didn't have to be anywhere fast, and they'd stop whenever they wanted along the way, whenever anything caught their eyes. It would be beautiful and perfect.