Chapter 9

Outside August’sroom at Kingscliff, where he lay unconscious, I leaned against the wall lost in thought. When Cain had broken into the program holding us inside, we’d both been taken to local critical care, but Sanctuary had soon transported us to the Maine safe house; the one the new Shadow Team called home. The weight of everything that had happened pushed me down, a mix of relief and unresolved tension and pain, and I rearranged the crutch that was all that was keeping me up.

“Hey, Ryder,” a familiar voice called—Josh, Ethan’s boyfriend, and the reason our team had become involved with Sanctuary—trailing behind a small girl. It took me a moment to register—this was Annie, the girl from the compound, and this was the first time I’d met her since the helo had landed yesterday. I straightened, watching them approach, wobbling on my crutch, but trying not to wince in pain.

Annie had the look of her dad, James Lerner, with fluffy blonde hair and the biggest blue eyes. She moved with a caution and quiet that seemed wrong, scanning the surroundings with an intensity that spoke of things no four-year-old should understand. Josh was a teacher here, in charge of admin for all the kids, and right now, he was in charge of one small and very confused girl.

As they drew nearer, I heard her small voice, “Is Clara here?” Her words were soft, almost hesitant. Clara? Shit. All I could think of was Clara’s lifeless body sprawled in the dirt. Amos had said the man in charge had killed her—well that was him, so it must have been Amos who’d shot her? Why would he have done that? Was it anger at losing Annie? Hell, was it my fault? Maybe I should have calmed Clara down, told her to run while she had the chance? Should I say something inane, like Clara was in heaven, or… Josh met my gaze, and I shook my head.

He kneeled beside her, answering in a gentle tone. “How about we go bake some cookies?”

“I want Mr. Amos,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Where’s Clara and Mr. Amos?”

My heart broke for her, and Josh was fighting back tears.

“How about those cookies, and we can talk to Lizzie.”

“I don’t like Lizzie!” Annie snapped, and stomped, and cried some more.

I stood there helpless. Dr. Lizzie Malone, an experienced counselor, was one of the team caring for the kids who passed through here, victims of trafficking, and I couldn’t help but think she had her work cut out with Annie. Too much time spent with Amos in that compound.

“No questions!” She put her hands over her ears, rocking on her feet, and then, she darted away, and I exchanged a quick glance with Josh, who jogged after her.

I watched them leave, a mix of emotions swirling within me. She’d been through more than most could fathom, yet she was healthy and didn’t seem traumatized—it seemed like what was here and now was hurting her more. There was a temper in her, and confidence that no one would stop her from what she wanted to do, but she wanted Clara and Amos. Wasn’t that a good thing because it implied she hadn’t been hurt at the compound? She called Amos by name, and I got the sense there was affection for him.

For the man who’d gut-shot August and left us to die.

Would Annie remember August? He’d lived with James and Annie for six months undercover. And here she was, in the midst of strangers, searching for a familiar face in a world turned upside down, and finding nothing.

“Josh says she doesn’t know August, says she doesn’t have a daddy at all,” Ethan murmured.

I stiffened—I hadn’t heard him walk up behind me, so lost in the story of one small child and her wrecked world.

“Cap,” I acknowledged, and tried to straighten as best I could with the whole crutches thing. He wasn’t my captain anymore, not now that we were civilians, but he’d earned that honorific, and I would never call him anything else.

“How’s our patient doing?”

I glanced at the closed door. “They’re worried about infection, peritonitis. Doc’s in with him now, so I stepped out.” He’d want to know why I was hanging around August’s room, and maybe, he’d suggest I should leave the man alone, and I stiffened. He threw me a concerned glance… here it comes.

Only, he didn’t say a thing about why I was hanging around or sitting by Navy’s bed. Instead, he leaned against the opposite wall and nodded.

“Stay with him, yeah? He’ll need to see a friendly face when he wakes up.”

“Not sure he’ll see it that way, pretty sure me packing his wound and making him scream gets me on his shit list.”

Ethan huffed a laugh, then sobered. “Can we talk?”

I glanced left and right at the empty corridor, not wanting to move from the spot, but unsure why I felt so torn by the thought of leaving August when he was so close to waking.

“We can talk here,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “You feeling responsible for him?” he asked, but he wasn’t accusing me of anything, it was an observation.

At first, I’d sat by August’s side—a sense of duty and an unspoken bond kept me rooted to that chair. We might not have known each other outside this single combat situation, but in those intense moments, in the midst of life and death decisions, we’d worked as a team, connected in a fighting sense, that meant he was more than a fellow soldier—sailor, whatever—I was his lifeline.

August and I might have been strangers before, but it didn’t feel right to walk away. Keeping him alive, hearing his desperate need for me to tell Annie that she’d been loved, had changed something in me. Now, watching him fight for his life in a sterile hospital bed, I felt a responsibility for him. He was a tough guy, a SEAL, but even the toughest need someone in their corner when they’re down. And right now, August was down.

So, did I feel responsible? Yeah I did.

“He was my team,” I said in my defense. “And teams look out for each other, in and out of combat, Cap,” I began.

He held up a hand. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I have a proposition for you.”

“You do?”

“Sanctuary took you, put you on this mission, but I want you with me as soon as you’re healed, in the Shadow Team, as my second.”

“Of course. And Luca?”

“He already said yes,” Ethan said, and extended a fist, which I bumped.

“The team’s back again,” I said.

Ethan grinned. “Plus a few extras—couple of US Special Ops, another SEAL—and yeah, you’ll meet them all soon.” Then he cracked his knuckles. “For now, though, I have a situation in Seattle we’re working, so I’m out of here.”

I straightened. “You want me to help?—”

“Not you, not this time; torn ligaments in your knee, remember?” He must have seen me tense. “Also, I need your eyes on August. I need any intel he can give us, and you know how slippery these damn SEALs can get. He doesn’t leave this building without talking to Shadow Team first.”

“Got it, Cap.”

He grasped my shoulder, squeezed it, then left, probably heading to the complex where he was setting up an impressive control center in an old swimming pool. He’d called it Swim Central once, a play on its origins I assume, and I couldn’t believe they were still running ops out of there, but seemed like they were?

Sanctuary funded this, and they were a mystery to me.

The door opened and Doc Jen came out, long white hair tied back in a ponytail. Dressed down in jeans and a T-shirt, Jen was our resident medical expert apparently, and a kick-ass surgeon who Sanctuary had called in to be part of the team that had saved August’s life.

Yep, Sanctuary really had deep pockets.

“You can go in,” she said, staring at a tablet and making a note. “He’s still sleeping, press the button when he wakes up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She glanced up from her tablet, her blue eyes twinkling. “That ‘ma’am’ you have going on is very growly,” she said, smiled, then headed down the same corridor Ethan had taken, and I was just happy she didn’t see me blush.

I headed back into the room and took a moment to lean against the door, August was so small and still in the bed.

The room had all the trappings of a hospital room, with the steady beeps of the monitors and the occasional hum of medical equipment providing a constant backdrop. Wires snaked from the machines to where August lay, evidence of how serious his condition was.

Only beyond the immediate vicinity of his bed, the room transformed from hospital room to something else. There was a secondary area resembling a small, well-equipped apartment. It had a three-cupboard kitchen, complete with a microwave and a kickass coffee machine, a refrigerator filled with bottled water plus some disgusting protein drinks, not to mention a cupboard full of healthy snacks. There was also a simple cot and a plush sofa, inviting enough for a brief respite or a night’s sleep, even if I did stay next to the bed on a chair and slept the night there.

I’d slept in worse situations.

One of the room’s most striking features was the large windows framing a breathtaking view of the ocean and small open vents that let in the fresh, salty breeze. The blinds were drawn to shield the room from the sun, yet they were tilted, ensuring the magnificent view remained unobstructed. The vast expanse of gray stretched to the horizon, its surface shimmering under the sunlight, and I bet anything that Navy would love that when he opened his eyes.

Without the hospital bed and the array of medical paraphernalia, the room could pass for a luxurious seafront apartment, and it wasn’t that much smaller than the place I rented in a shared house. Hell, the coffee machine was definitely better. Talking of which, I made use of it, then headed back to the chair next to the bed—angling it for the view and for watching August—sipped the Colombian brew and carried on with what I’d been doing when the doc had evicted me from the room.

Talking to the man in case that helped him wake up.

“Where were we? I’d done the ass over face on my bike thing… so… okay, I was thirteen, and there was this boy, Nathan; he was a year older than me, and that was when I knew I was gay. In hindsight, finding him playing tonsil hockey with my sister might have clued me in that he wasn’t at all gay in any goddamn way, but I did all this reading up on it, and I convinced myself that he could be bi. So, I went about throwing myself into his life at every given moment. Ryder persistent West—that’s me. So, he and I did this…”

I talked for an hour or so, catching August up on my life, for something to talk about. Then, I called up the first Jack Reacher book on my phone and started to read out loud, chuckling at some of the shit the big man got up to, and wondering at some of the most improbable bits.

“There again,” I explained. “Who am I to judge Reacher, when we have the shadowy Shadow Team and the even shadowier—is that even a word—Sanctuary backing that, so maybe we can blur the lines. What do you think? Not you maybe, I don’t know what you’re up to next, but Cap asked me to join that Shadow Team, and I jumped at it.” I laughed. “I get bored easily, and hell, a soldier’s not a fat lot of good without wars to fight. Am I right?”

The beeps changed, becoming rapid, but he was still unconscious, and I placed the book down and leaned over him, grasping his hand.

When it came down to it, nightmares were probably chasing this unnatural sleep and maybe knowing there was someone who got it, might make things settle. I shouldn’t have mentioned war. Also, maybe I should find a different book to read aloud?

I watched the monitor, waited until the beeps smoothed out, until his breathing settled, and I shuffled the chair closer without letting go of him.

“I got you, Navy. I got you.”