end?
“You went from Landstuhl to Balboa Naval Hospital to heal up?” he asked.
Nodding, Sky opened her eyes. “I spent six months there. The first month—” she grimaced “—I was on a cocktail of drugs. Emotionally, I was a basket case.”
“Baby, anyone who’d gone through what you did would be, too.”
“It tore me apart.” Shaking her head, Sky sponged in Gray’s quiet strength, his warmth and his attentiveness. He understood. All SEALs went through SERE, where they were all waterboarded to show them what it was like. But because of her military classification, she never had to take that dreaded course. Maybe if she had, she’d have been more mentally prepared, not taken by the shock and terror of it. Maybe...
“You’ve come a long way in a short time, Sky, with those kinds of experiences behind you.” Gray held her desolate gaze. “You realize that, don’t you? You’re functioning at a high level despite it.”
“I feel so damn weak, Gray. I feel like I’m set back every time I have that same flashback.”
“That’s going to change,” Gray promised her quietly, curving his fingers against her cheek. “You’re with someone who knows the score. I’m here for you. I won’t walk away from you, either, so don’t think you’re taking advantage of me.” He smiled a little as he watched hope flare to life in her shadowed eyes. “We’ll take this one day at a time. What you have to do is tell me when the stress is getting to you. I can take you out of the line of fire, and you can come back here to the house and rest. Ramp down.”
“But won’t Iris be upset if that happens? She’s paying me for eight hours of work a day.” She saw Gray give her a very male smile.
“Technically, Sky, you work for me. Iris cuts the paychecks every two weeks. If I tell you to go back here to rest, you do it. Iris would understand anyway. She’s hired a number of returning vets from Iraq and Afghanistan in the past. She’s no stranger to PTSD and what it does to us. I know she wouldn’t be upset with you, so don’t you be.”
Sky nodded. “Okay. I get it.”
“Feel like moving? I can make us some tea. Or you tell me what you need.” Gray didn’t want her to leave him. She fit beautifully against him, her soft, womanly curves meshing against his hard angles. He didn’t want to stop touching her here and there, but he knew he had to. There was a difference between care and making love to this woman. He couldn’t cross that line with Sky.
Stirring, Sky sat up, pushing her tangled hair off her face. “I need to get a bath. I reek.” She wrinkled her nose and gave Gray an apologetic look. Touching the damp nightgown she wore, she added, “I’ll take a bath, change into a dry nightgown and then I need to try to go to sleep. Thank you, though, for the offer of the tea.” Thank you for saving my life tonight. Without thinking, Sky placed her hand against his square jaw, leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss against his sandpapery cheek. And then she forced herself to her feet, her knees mushy from fear. Gray held her arm until she got steady enough to walk slowly toward the hall.
He watched her slow progress, worry clouding his expression. His cheek tingled hotly in the wake of her lush lips kissing him. It took everything he had not to enclose her with his arms once more and turn and trap that mouth of hers. He watched her move robotically, her stride tentative, unsure of her balance. Once she reached the hall, Sky put out her hand, using the wall to help guide her toward the bathroom.
Gray wanted to help her, but he understood her need to try to get stronger despite her injuries. And he didn’t want to enable her. It was a fine balance to walk with her.
The door to the bathroom opened and then quietly closed. With the sound of water running in the bathroom, he sat there, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped between them. Gray shook his head, feeling the rage and injustice of her torture by the Taliban. He’d contact the senior chief of ST3 and find out the SEALs who were involved in Sky’s rescue. And he’d talk to the men who had found her. She wasn’t telling him everything. If he was going to help her, he had to know the whole story.
Gray slowly got to his feet, very aware of his erection. When Sky had unexpectedly kissed him, he’d gone hot and burned with sudden need for her. Only seconds later did he realize she’d kissed him out of gratitude, not out of desire. His body had its own miniature brain, and sure enough, he’d hardened beneath her entirely innocent gesture. What Gray didn’t want was for Sky to feel he was a sexual predator, using her flashbacks as a way to get to her. She hadn’t said she’d been raped. But he needed to know one way or another. Tomorrow morning, he’d place that call to his old SEAL team in Coronado.
“GRAYSON, HOW ARE YOU, brother?”
“Hey, Jag, good to hear your voice.” Gray smiled as he stood near the door to the wildlife center. It was nearly 8:00 a.m., and he had put in a call to the senior chief of ST3 at Coronado. The senior had given him the contact number of the SEAL who had led Sky’s rescue mission. Gray knew him well, Petty Officer First Class Ryan Stark. He had been a shooter in his squadron, and Gray had been with him when Kell Ballard, the LPO, had headed up the team. When Kell left, Ryan took his place. Everyone knew him as Jag, for jaguar, because Stark was as silent and deadly as the legendary South American cat.
“How’s life in Wyoming? Last email I got from you was two months go. Did you get snowed in?” Jag teased and laughed heartily.
Gray could feel his stomach knotting. “No, just busy putting the final touches on the wildlife center I’m running. Look, I got permission from the senior back at Coronado to ask you about a rescue mission you headed up.”
“Sure. What do you need to know?”
Gray knew all their ops were top secret. But ex-SEALs or retired SEALs were sometimes cut some slack if there was a personal stake in needing to know. “Your rescue of Lieutenant Skylar Pascal. Do you remember it? It was about eight months ago?”
“I couldn’t forget it if I wanted to,” Jag growled. “How did you get wind about this op?”
Mouth quirking, Gray walked around the corner of the building where he was out of sight of everyone. No one was around on the cold, sunny morning, but he didn’t want this conversation being overheard. He filled Jag in that Sky was going to be his assistant.
“Now, I know a couple of things,” Gray went on in a quiet tone. “She was in a Black Hawk crash, and there were two survivors. The doc was shot in the head later in a cave, leaving her the lone survivor. The Taliban held Sky for two weeks and she was waterboarded.”
“You know a whole helluva lot,” Jag muttered.
“Not enough, though. I need your eyes on this, Jag. You were there. You pulled the op. What else can you tell me about that mission?” Gray held his breath, trying to prepare himself.
“It was a nightmare, man. Me and my team took down four Taliban guarding that Afghan house. We captured two others. The Taliban was hiding her in plain sight in a border village. We got inside the house, found this small room locked. I shot off the lock and kicked the door open. It was dark and smelled bad. Real bad. I aimed my rifle around with the light beneath it and spotted something in the corner of the room. At first, I thought it was just a pile of old, ratty wool blankets. There was a table in the center of the room with chains on each corner of it. I flashed my light around and there was blood all over the freakin’ place. There was vomit, shit and urine. The place smelled bad, man. When I went over to the blankets, I used the toe of my boot to nudge it, and it moved. Scared the hell outta me. I leaped back, ready to fire at it, thinking a Taliban was hiding under it.”
“But it was Sky?” Gray pressed grimly, his eyes narrowing, his gut knotted so tight it hurt.
“Yes, it was. She was naked, hair matted and filthy dirty. I tried to ask her name but she was dazed and in deep shock. All she could do was huddle, arms