“You should save your strength.” It was Tucker. Yeah, that was his name. Joe recognized the low growl in his voice.
“Where are we?” he asked. He touched his head again and felt stickiness. “I’m bleeding.”
He heard a ripping of cloth, and something landed in his lap.
“Wrap that around your head.”
It smelled—part of Tucker’s shirt. “Thanks.”
“Best guess, they have us holed up in the hills close to the border. That camp we went into wasn’t the one from the satellite feed. These guys were waiting. We’re most likely about fifty miles from where they ambushed us.”
He could hear yelling and shouting, someone begging, footsteps on the other side of the steel door. “So are these the same guys who took Dunlop and Grieger, or is this a different group?”
“Pretty sure they’re who we’re looking for. When they brought us into camp, it looked like three armies. The men were everywhere, the weapons. Security’s tight. There was this long line of women, hard to tell if they were Kurds or local villagers, but their ankles were tied. Another woman was tied naked to a post, being raped, and these guys were firing off their guns in the air, cheering. She was shot in the head as they dragged us in—the only mercy they showed her. I would have put a bullet in her myself if I could’ve.”
“What about Grieger, Dunlop, any sign of them?”
Tucker was doing something in the corner. Joe couldn’t see. “Nope, the women’s faces were all covered except for the dead one, but I don’t like their chances. Who knows what’s already happened to them?”
There were footsteps, and then the bolt was slipped. The door scraped open, and Tucker turned to sit with his back to the wall. Two of the masked men went for him, and he yelled and tried to fight back, but they hit him over and over and dragged him out. Joe reacted blindly, grabbing one of the captors and trying to break his neck. Then something slammed into his head, and there was darkness.
****
She was so beautiful. Her smile was flirty, and her dimple flashed in her creamy, flawless complexion. He wanted to touch her, run his hand through her short, dark locks. As she bit her lower lip, he wanted to put his lips there and taste her.
She giggled.
“You’re such a tease. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She smiled up at him. It was so exciting, this new love. “That I’m going to be late and my daddy’s going to come after you with a shotgun.” She giggled again.
“Come on, baby. Don’t hold out on me. Tell me you’ll marry me.”
She reached up and linked her arms around his neck. He could feel all her softness. She was so slim and fit so nicely in his arms. He ran his hand over her bottom and slipped it under her skirt. Mary-Margaret giggled again. “Joe, of course I’ll marry you.” She rubbed her nose to his and kissed him. He could smell her floral sweetness. She was so warm against him. “You’re shipping out again? For how long this time?” she said.
He didn’t want to think about it, to be away from her one moment longer than necessary. “Six months, but it’ll go quick. Let’s get married before I ship out.”
She pulled away, and her entire expression changed as she worried her lip between her teeth. She pushed against his chest harder and harder, so hard that he couldn’t breathe. Then he was drowning as icy water shocked all his senses. He gasped, panicked. He couldn’t find her. It was dark and cold and wet, and he yelled her name.
Chapter 7
“I have to go, Abby,” Eric said. “He’s my friend, and I can’t leave him over there. I have to go find him.”
She was folding his clothes, pulling them from the drawer calmly and handing them to him as he filled his bag. She touched his arm and rubbed before looking up at him, giving him a glance filled with understanding and love. “Of course you do. You don’t need to convince me, Eric. If you didn’t go, I’d think it was because of me.” She reached for more clothes, knowing what he needed.
Of course it would be because of her. Everything was about her and his children. Every decision he made was made with the best interests of his family in mind. He lifted his bag and pushed it back so he could sit on the bed. He let out a sigh, which came out sounding a little rougher than he’d meant it to. Abby stepped in front of him and between his legs, resting her hands on his shoulders.
“I can’t leave here worried about you,” he said. “You tell me you’re going to be okay, but I know you still have nightmares. You told me before that when I left for sea, you didn’t sleep while I was gone. I don’t think I could bear it if something happened again, Abby…” He had to stop. He worried constantly that she’d snap again or that some trigger would push her so far over the edge that he’d never get her back. She had to know and understand his fears, but at the same time, he didn’t want to speak them out loud.
She lowered herself into his lap, looping her arms around his neck. She looked at him deeply and angled her head. “I’m a lot stronger than you think, Eric. I won’t break, I promise you.” She hesitated and licked her lip before worrying it between her teeth. “It haunts me, what I did. Not a day passes that I’m not hit by the memory of my fears overtaking me. It felt so real. You hated me, I hated me.”
“No, baby,” he said. She leaned her face against his cheek, her glasses bumping his nose, and he reached up and pulled them off, tossing them on the bed. He ran his hands over her back, her hip, and then up to her head, pulling the elastic from her hair. “You’ve come so far.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and just stayed in his arms. She fit so nicely. He took a deep breath and just sat there for a minute with his arms around her. “Eric, please don’t worry. I promise I won’t fall apart, and you can’t keep treating me as if I’m a piece of china that’s going to break.”
“But you are my responsibility, Abby, and I need to know you’re going to be okay if I walk out that door and get on that plane.”
“No, I’m not going to be okay.” She sat up and rested her hand on his chest, brushing back her hair with her hand. “I’m going to worry about you from the moment you leave until you come home.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I was relieved that it was Joe and not you. Isn’t that horrible?”
He didn’t say anything as he watched her tear-glazed eyes. She looked up, struggling to put her thoughts together.
“I don’t want Joe to be dead. I want him to be found, and I know I’m being selfish, sitting here, hoping you won’t be the one they send to find him. But I also know you, and you would end up hating me if you had to stay and couldn’t go help your friend.”
“Abby―” he started, but she covered his mouth with the flat of her hand.
“No, let me finish. I need to say all of this.” She waited a second and then lifted her hand from his mouth. “I know that whatever happened, you don’t want to tell me.”
“I can’t tell you, Abby. It’s not just about security.” He stopped talking. Maybe he did want her to know.
“Eric, what is it?” She ran her fingers through his hair.
“Two women from Joe’s camp were taken. That was why Joe disappeared. He’d gone after them with a team, and he was captured. They’re afraid of what these men intend to do.” He stopped again as soon as he felt her stiffen.
“They won’t just kill them,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if they’re Arab, Muslims, terrorists…whoever they are, Eric, I hope you find all the women they’ve taken.” Her expression was grim. “You know what I went through, what I survived, but there are a lot of women who didn’t. You know this. These men are afraid of women, so they exploit them. They’re afraid of educated women, so they oppress them. Women, to them, aren’t human. Whoever this group is, Eric, there’s little difference between them and the ones who took me. The women will be sold, bought, raped, tortured…and, if they’re lucky, killed.”
She started to get up, to push away, but he held on so she couldn’t run and hide. They’d talked after her sessions with Dr. Blaney, and she’d stopped hiding what she was thinking—well, most things. He knew her fears, the horror of the assault. She’d tried to protect him from the gory details of how that monster had defiled her body, tried to destroy her soul.
“I’ll never forget what happened, but I’m learning to live with it,” she said. “I survived. You saved me. I know what’s going on in the world and over there even though you try to hide it. I know you keep the news off, hide the papers.” A hint of a smile touched her lips. “And I love you for it, but you can’t stick me in a glass house and think you can protect me from every bad and ugly thing out there. Yes, I still have nightmares. They come out of nowhere, but you’ve made it easier, because you’re here, and I just have to roll over into your arms and I know you’ll chase every bad thing away. I also have help. Dr. Blaney’s helped me to face every one of those nightmares, one by one, every week.”
Maybe it was the way he was watching her that made her widen her eyes and say, “I know I’m not cured. I have a long way to go, but I also know the signs, Eric, and how to ask for help and where to go. If I know that, I’ll be okay.”
She held his gaze, and he realized how wrong he’d been. She wasn’t weak or fragile—she was strong, courageous, and he loved her so much. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and touching, kissing, taking what was his. He was gentle at first, and then he turned, rolling with her on the bed so she was under him, her legs wrapped around his waist. With one arm, he swept his bag and maybe her glasses to the floor. It made a racket he thought might wake the kids, but when he paused and listened, he heard nothing. Abby ran her hands over his face and turned it back to her.
“The kids are fine. They’re asleep, but I’m not.” She looked at him deeply, her light blue eyes letting him know she was his woman. There were no words for the depth of her feelings. They’d been together so many times, their bodies finding comfort in each other. He loved making love to Abby, although at times he was scared he’d hurt her.
She reached between them, touching him, undoing his belt and his zipper, lifting his shirt from his pants, working each button one by one until his shirt opened and she could freely run her hands over his chest. Her touch was so light that it burned him. Two kids, a marriage, and the hell they’d been through had done little to douse the fire between them. He wanted her every bit as much as he had when he first married her on his ship.
“It’s just us here, Eric,” she whispered when he broke the kiss.
He lifted her up to pull off her shirt, unhook her bra, and pull off the rest of her clothes. He loved her body, how she looked lying under him. He pulled back and allowed his shirt to fall to the floor, and she lay on the bed, her blond hair spread around her head like a pillow. She opened her legs and just let him look at her, laid out there for him. She was giving herself to him again and again, and he took a second as he stood naked over her. He leaned over her on the bed, moving forward on his knees, sliding her up farther on the bed, her legs dangling over his hips. She moved her bottom closer to him, where he was hard and ready for her. He ran his hand up over her flat stomach, under the line of her breasts, where her bra had left an imprint. She sucked in a breath and slid her hands up over his arms, touching him, and he touched her breasts, her nipples, caressing her with his eyes, his hands down lower over her stomach between them, feeling how ready she was for him.
Her gaze never left his as she took in every moment with him, drinking it in as if she would die of thirst. When he couldn’t take one more second of sweet torture, he moved over her, entering her at the same time as he claimed her mouth again, kissing her with his tongue, tasting her as he moved slowly, deeply. Holding her close to him was the sweetest, most sensuous feeling he’d ever had with Abby. Whatever happened, he would take this last time with him as he stepped into enemy territory.
Chapter 8
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Eric said. He was watching Taylor, who was slumped over on the sofa. Eric sat and rested his elbows on his knees. Mary-Margaret kept getting up, running into the kitchen for sugar and cream and he didn’t know what. Everything was an excuse. He could see her anxiety. Everyone could feel how heavy it hung in this house. Abby came out of the kitchen, holding Charlie, and she gave Eric a look. She didn’t know what to do about Mary-Margaret, either.
“My dad’s dead, isn’t he?” Taylor said, and Janey burst into tears again. Steven was sitting frozen, as if the shock hadn’t quite sunk in.
“No, we don’t know anything yet. If your dad is dead, we would have heard, so don’t think the worst. Come here, honey.” He reached out for Janey, and she went right into his arms and sat on his knee as he hugged her. “I’m going over there to find your dad, to bring him home.”
Hopefully not in a body bag,
he thought. “I need you all to be strong. We’re all worried. Your mom, too. Taylor, don’t be giving your mom any more of a hard time. You all pitch in and help out or there’ll be hell to pay when we get back.”
Eric took in the sadness on the kids’ faces. Taylor was now leaning back into the corner of the sofa, looking down. Eric had never had the talk with Taylor, and he hated the fact that all of this was going on and that he needed to go. Right now, Joe should have been on his way back home. Taylor needed to be taken aside, but Eric no longer had the time to do it. Maybe Abby knew, because she set her hand on his shoulder and quietly reminded him, “You have to go soon, Eric.”
He caught her meaning. He patted Janey’s leg and kissed the top of her head. “Go with Abby,” he said. “I need to have a talk with Taylor. Steven, you, too. Go with Abby.”
Abby stepped closer to the sofa and held out her hand when Steven got up. “Come on, Steven. Janey, let’s go in your room and play a game.”
Rachel came running out of a bedroom, holding a doll, and Abby turned her around, herding the kids down the hall.
When Eric looked over at Taylor, he could see how the boy was struggling to hold it together. “Taylor, I need to talk about some things before I leave. Smoking, seriously? What do you think your dad would say?”