SEAL Brotherhood 06 - SEAL My Destiny (28 page)

The guy looked white as a ghost. Luke wasn’t sure if he was worried about Julie or his job. He definitely didn’t trust him.

The man kept walking around with his palm to his forehead, as if he couldn’t believe the situation. He was barely paying attention to Stanfield’s questions.

“Sir!” Stanfield finally got impatient. “I’m going to need you to pay attention and answer my questions.”

Connors looked at Luke and Tyler and grimaced. “You got undercovers going after her now?” he demanded with a scowl.

Stanfield rolled his eyes behind Connors’s back. “Close. Okay, sir, let’s step into your office, shall we?”

Later, Luke and Tyler followed Detective Stanfield over to Julie’s apartment. Stepping through the door, he saw warm, picture-filled apartment which was just like her classroom. Color everywhere. Pictures of trips she’d taken, friends. She had posters made by some of the students in her classes. Thank you cards penned by little hands. He was asked not to touch anything, and he didn’t.

Outside again, Luke and Tyler waited by the Hummer. The waiting was the hard part. There had been no ransom demand. All of them were gone, including little Corey, and her mother, too.

Then they caught a break. A motorist was flagged down by a mother and her child about ten miles east of the City limits, in a rural area used for hunting and dirt bike riding. She was brought to the sheriff’s office, and they told tales of being held captive by her husband, along with two other women. The message said one of the women was dead and the other one was still alive. She had managed to untie little Corey and her mother, and they were able to escape. Luke produced a map of the area, and they all studied it.

“Looks like they picked them up about here,” Stanfield said.

“It’s got to be Julie,” Luke said. He refused to believe she was harmed.

“Look, much as I’d appreciate your help, this isn’t your fight.”

“The hell it’s not. I’m all the way in.”

“No, this is a police matter. You have to let us handle it.”

Luke knew he had to convince the detective he was going to cooperate and leave, but had no real intention of doing it. And something told him Stanfield was also pretending and perhaps secretly grateful for the assistance.

The detective promised to keep Luke informed.

Taking advantage of the Hummer’s off-road capabilities, Luke and Tyler combed back and forth across the rough terrain, searching the area with binoculars.

“God, I wish I had one of Coop’s drones.”

They drew a circle around the pickup point and estimated how fast the mother and daughter had been able to move to estimate how far out they had to search. On their second sweep of the southwest quadrant, he spotted a cabin with a gray van parked in front.

Luke pulled the Hummer under some trees and they both geared up, including his MP4 and a few miniature explosive devices, their sigs, some body armor and extra clips. Their night gear they left in the truck. There was no sense bringing any food or water, since it wasn’t going to be a stakeout. This would be a quick rescue operation.

Using small trees and shrubs as cover, they first made their way over to the van and touched the hood. It was still warm. Luke got out his KA-BAR and sliced a three-inch hole in each of the right tires, the ones furthest from the front door, disabling the vehicle.

They listened for any signs of movement and heard nothing.

The cabin had a back door and a front door. A high electrical line connected the house to a pole. Luke considered shooting out the power, but didn’t want to give up the element of surprise.

“I’m thinking we blast both doors simultaneously,” he said to Tyler.

“Roger that, boss.”

Luke gave him a look.

“Old man,” Tyler corrected himself.

“Thanks, man. I’m glad you tagged along, Tyler,” he said while he handed him an Invisio.

“Hell, if you get shot, I get the girl. I’m fuckin’ in it for
me
you asshole,” Tyler whispered. Then he grinned and they quickly got on with their mission.

“We go in two.” They both checked their watches. Tyler went around the backside of the cabin.

Windows were boarded up, so Luke couldn’t see anything while he made his way to the front door. He was careful not to cast a shadow, since there was a crack big enough for something to show through to what he figured must be a darkened interior. He placed the explosive, hanging from the door latch, and checked his watch. He set the thirty-second fuse and retreated around the corner of the house.

Tyler’s IED went off a full two seconds before Luke’s did. Immediately he heard automatic gunfire and hoped for the best. His device had only partially split the door, which must have been reinforced from the inside. He kicked in the rest.

Dust and smoke were everywhere, along with the unmistakable smell of death.

He caught sight of something moving and was relieved to see it was a thigh, more particularly, one thigh he knew very well.

Julie’s alive!

Then,
Jesus!
He was hit in the chest with several rounds, which nearly knocked him through the doorway into the dirt. His body armor held, though. Thank God the guy didn’t have armor-piercing bullets.

More gunfire came from the back, and he heard a muffled scream just before someone hit the floor.

Miller was on Luke in a flash, using a wicked hunting knife a little smaller than his KA-BAR, but with a nasty blade. Luke barely had enough time to deflect the man’s crazed lunge. Luke grabbed the man’s forearm and quickly broke the two bones between his elbow and wrist with a quick snap, like shortening sticks for a campfire. Miller howled, so Luke kicked him in the balls for good measure, which doubled him over on his knees. He gave the man’s head a kick with his steel-toed books and he collapsed, immobile.

Tyler came limping out from the shadows. “Caught one in the leg, man, but I’m fine.” Luke check the blood staining the man’s dark green pants and knew he could wait briefly for first aid.

Which meant he could follow his instincts and release the woman writhing on the dirty mattress. Julie was bound hand and foot, with a large, dirty rag around her mouth. She’d sustained some bruising, mostly on her wrists and ankles from the restraints, with a scratch here and there which had bled shut, but otherwise looked pretty fucking incredible to Luke. He would have to say beautiful.

Her eyes widened when she realized who he was. He dropped to his knees and cradled her head in his arms, whispering sweet messages and reassuring her he was here, and everything was going to be okay.

“Are you hurt, baby? Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head until the gag was removed. “Oh, God, Luke. He was going to kill me. You got here just in time. Corey—”

“All safe, baby. It’s how we found you. They’re both safe.” He followed her gaze to another mattress on the opposite wall. A decomposing woman’s body lay splayed out, naked, her blonde hair caked with blood from the slit in her throat. Her hands were still bound, but not her feet.

“Noreen,” she sobbed into his chest.

“It’s all over, baby. Nothing to worry about now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Her pungent body odor after nearly two days in the dirty cabin was still the sweetest perfume he’d ever smelled.

‡

L
uke had a
long discussion in the morning with his psychiatrist, Dr. Brownlee. He’d wanted to stay with Julie at the hospital, where she had been kept for observation. But he told her he needed to keep an appointment and he wanted to talk to his professional, like he would talk to an expert in his field before planning a mission.

What he had in mind was a lifelong mission. His old self would have made fun of wanting to get permission from his doctor to marry Julie, but this was a new phase in his recovery. He would seek out every tool in his arsenal so he would continue to heal, to become the best husband a girl could want. Asking for help was a good sign, he thought, and he decided to follow his instincts.

“I’m happy for you, Luke,” Dr. Brownlee said. “But you understand these symptoms are not going to go away just because you’ve found the right girl? We’re talking about a process here, and it takes years.”

“I know.”

“How long since the dreams?”

“A week…fuck, no, ten days. Not since I’ve been back. Sorry about the language.”

“I’m used to it.” He paused and examined Luke carefully before continuing. “It’s good your mission didn’t trigger anything. It also doesn’t mean your next mission won’t. Have you thought about that?”

“I have.”

“You taking meds?”

“I don’t f—like the way they make me feel.”

“You’re going to have to be honest with me, Luke, far better to take them to avoid a return to the depression and deep black holes of those places you go, than to walk around dangerously untreated. But, I don’t think your PTSD is as severe as some I’ve seen. If I insisted you stay on your meds, even with all the side effects, would you stay on them?”

Luke looked down at his folded hands. “Will I ever be ‘cured’?’”

“We don’t talk like that. We talk about recovery. Peeling the onion. Making strides. But the frank answer to your question is: no. But with therapy, and possibly the use of drugs, if necessary, you will recover if you put the time in.”

“Okay, I get that.”

“All up to you. There are tools you have which you didn’t have a month ago. The meditation, the sessions, possibly some couples sessions—all these things will help. And we prepare for the dark times to come.”

Luke stared at his hands. He knew the doctor was right. He sighed heavily.

“What’s the sigh about?”

Looking up, he could see Brownlee wasn’t going to miss a beat. The doctor’s own daughter had married one of Luke’s best buddies on the Team, Coop. Which was why he’d chosen to work with Dr. Brownlee, because he considered him part of the family of the brotherhood, and he’d been doing some free group sessions for the Teams on his own time. The man was an expert in his field, just like Luke was. Like they all were.

“I don’t like thinking about the dark times. I just don’t,” he said, and shrugged.

“Who would? But tell me what’s going on with you right now.”

“From where I sit today—I mean, I feel good, really good. Solid. I don’t want to think those dreams might come back. But I know you’re right.”

“Think of all the things you’ll be dealing with, like the things that came up before, except now you’ll have a wife, someday a family. Suppose one day something happened to them?”

Luke thought about Camilla. He tried to visualize her dying in his arms, but he couldn’t. He wondered if it would change. He wondered if this ghost, this vision would ever come between him and Julie.

“You’re talking about other stress, picking at a scab.”

“You’re about to merge your life with another person, someone you barely know. I’m not saying your decision is a bad one, just that it’s very quick. But then, I know you guys, and this is what you do, don’t you?”

“Yessir.”

“You feel the pain of what you’ve endured, the loss of life, both here and abroad, and it means you’re human, Luke. You’d be a psychopath if you enjoyed the killing or the danger—”

“Honestly, doc? I love the fuckin’ danger.”

Brownlee chuckled. “I get it.”

“I mean I hate it when we go over there and just hang around doing nothing, waiting for something. I’d rather be in the middle of—”

There it was again, the niggling doubt. Did it make him good husband material, because he actually liked putting his life on the line? Like it was something he was chosen, called to do? It wasn’t the killing he loved. That would make him a monster. It was providing protection he loved, and the brotherhood of the Teams. He knew some day he’d have to get by without it. Was he weak for thinking—no, knowing—he still needed his buds around him? Did it make him weak?

He asked the doctor. He could see Brownlee felt emotional about Luke’s explanation of what he felt.

“This is what an elite warrior must face every day. Not sure the world understands this. I didn’t realize it about my brother until years after he was gone. One of the biggest regrets of my life is I didn’t understand him.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“No, this is about you, not Will. This is what makes you human, questioning all these things. We need to keep talking about all of it. It’s healthy for you to question yourself. Examine everything. It’s what we work on. When we put a label on it and say, ‘I’m good,’ then I start to be concerned. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes.”

“Huge congrats for reaching out to me today. Huge, Luke. An excellent indication you are fully participating in your own self-care and recovery. Facing your demons. But they won’t go away. They don’t go away. They fade a bit. And you learn tools to deal with them when they come up, because they will.”

“I got you. So you think marrying Julie is one of those tools?”

Brownlee chuckled again. “Fucking no.”

Luke was surprised when he swore. But then he saw the wide grin on the face of a man he trusted, truly trusted with these intense, personal issues of his soul.