Running Fire (9 page)

By the time they reached the cave complex, Leah's headache had mostly disappeared thanks to the Motrin. They went to work like the team they were, getting out of their gear, setting it aside and removing their heavy Kevlar vests.

Leah's hands shook as she stripped down to the T-shirt and cammies. She could feel bottled-up rage around Kell. She sensed it. But it didn't show on his face, in his voice or how he treated her.

Kell saw how despondent Leah had become. When she sat down on the bag, her back against the wall, he came and sat facing her, their legs against one another. He picked up her hand, which she'd placed over her torso.

“I think I can put some of this together,” he began quietly, searching her desolate looking eyes. “The first night you were here, you had a nightmare and you screamed Hayden's name. You were fighting him because your right hand was in a fist, and it looked to me like you were trying to hit someone. Probably him?” Kell swallowed and watched her closely for a reaction. Her lower lip quivered almost imperceptibly. He was on the right track. Kell gently turned her hand over in his. “The second night, same thing. Only this time, you screamed like an animal that had been trapped, Leah. I know the differences in a person's screams. You were terrified. Weren't you?”

She barely nodded her head, caught in a web of so many dark emotions from her past. Kell's slow Southern drawl took the pain out of his words. Oddly comforted, she forced herself to meet his narrowed, intent gaze. She felt him searching, trying to put it all together. It wasn't threatening, but she could feel him putting a lot of her past in perspective. Things she never wanted to give voice to ever again. He was a sniper. He saw patterns. He cobbled pieces together all the time. Kell was observant in a way few people could ever be.

“You've hinted that your marriage to Hayden was a bad one.” Kell lowered his voice and he struggled to find the right words, not wanting to harm Leah any more than she was presently hurting. “Correct me on this if I'm wrong, Leah. But my sense, and it's only my sense of things, is that he abused you.”

Leah stared at him, the silence thickening between them, weighing down on her shoulders. The gentle look on Kell's face, his care, and his low, vibrating voice, gave her the courage to speak. “Yes.” It was all she could choke out. There was no way she could say any more about it. The suffering, the memories—it was simply too much to bear all over again.

Kell scowled and stared down at her long, beautiful hand and lightly stroked her fingers. Rage soared through him. His mind was analyzing all the clues, their conversations about Hayden Grant. He felt Leah become so damned vulnerable, as if she had been skinned alive, with no way to protect herself.

Lifting his chin, Kell assessed her expression. His heart broke. Leah had gone pale. Her eyes were black holes, bottomless pits, the green of the irises a mere crescent around her huge pupils. He wanted to find that bastard ex-husband of hers and take him apart, one limb at a time. Right now, Leah was literally the color of white marble, unmoving, frozen in time, paralyzed by her past. His own selfish need to know had placed her in this position. Kell hadn't expected this kind of reaction from Leah. Now, he was sorrier than hell he'd ever brought it up for discussion.

He couldn't take back the words, so he continued to stroke her hand, knowing it was an anchor point for Leah as she tumbled through whatever horrific past she'd experienced with Grant. Finally, her lashes dropped and Kell felt her retreat deep inside herself, as if it was just all too much for her to bear.

His mind ran through all of his medical training, all his experience, trying to find something that would pull her out of it. Bring her back to him. Back to the present instead of being imprisoned in a past that appeared to still have its hooks buried deep into her soul.

Kell released her hand and whispered, “Come here, Leah. Let me hold you?”
Never make a command to an abuse survivor. Always give them the choice and control.
He remembered that from his classes. He saw Leah open her eyes; the vacant look in them scared the hell out of him. Kell reached toward Leah, offering to hold her. He held his breath, unsure of his tactics, unsure she'd respond. He was following his senses and they'd never led him wrong. No matter how much book learning he had, it always came down to his heart and gut making the final call. He knew she needed to be embraced, to feel protected.

Kell slowly lowered his arms, realizing Leah wasn't going to move. He was staring at a beautiful, vacant doll. Not a human being with passion, with emotions or a personality. The silence lengthened as he held her sightless stare. He'd pushed her too hard, too fast. All it had achieved was probably a horrendous flashback, yanking her back into her painful past. And he'd done it.
Dammit!
In his need to know, Kell had been a bulldozer, shattering her walls, taking advantage of the trust she'd given him.

He'd recalled moving through many Afghan villages, the women who had vacant-eyed stares just like Leah. They'd been raped by Taliban soldiers. They were ashamed, hiding their eyes, turning away, beaten. Broken.

Clutch's sister, Tracy, had been raped, and nearly died from the assault. Brad could always tell which Afghan women in a village had been raped. It was easy for him to spot them because Tracy, who had had her spirit broken by the violent attack, shared the same look. Kell wished Clutch were here right now. He'd know what to do. How to help Leah. Would know the right words to say.

Rubbing his face wearily, Kell slowly unwound and stood up. He took a blanket and settled it over Leah's legs and tucked it around her waist. She had closed her eyes, shutting him out. Shutting the world out, because she could no longer cope. The helo crash had ripped her life apart. She'd lost three men she was close to in that crash. And he'd just ripped her life apart some more because of his selfish need to understand Grant's toxic stain upon her.

Kell cursed himself, striding out of the cave and moving into the other one. He was running through one of many conversations Clutch had had with him about his sister, Tracy. She'd been raped while they were in Coronado, two months before deploying to Afghanistan.

Kell sat down on a box of water bottles, elbows on his knees, hands against his face, trying desperately to remember all the details of that attack upon her. Tracy was twenty-one and a paralegal in San Diego. She was Clutch's baby sister, three years younger than him. Kell had met her many times before for a beer at a local bar where SEALs congregated.

Clutch was tight with Tracy. He was fiercely protective of his blond-haired sister with the baby-blue eyes and innocent face. He never let another SEAL get too close to her, warning her off from his kind. Rightly so.

And then, Tracy had been attacked one night, leaving the law firm on B Street after dark. She'd gone to the parking garage to get her car when a man had jumped her from behind.

He and Clutch had been at Coronado SEAL Team 3 HQ when the police had called, asking for Brad. Kell had watched his best friend fall apart. Tracy had been found by another lawyer from another law firm who had been late getting to his car.

He and his SEAL brother had rushed to the San Diego hospital emergency room. The nurses tried to kick him out of ER but Clutch was half-crazed, looking into every cubicle trying to locate his baby sister.

When he'd found Tracy, Clutch had cried and held her hand. Kell had persuaded the angry nurses not to bother him. Just to let him be with Tracy while the doctor examined her. When the nurses found out they were SEALs, they instantly backed off. Kell calmed the nurses down, got to his friend's side as a woman doctor examined Tracy.

She was unconscious, her face bloodied, nose broken, her lower lip split wide-open. Her slacks were gone. As the doctor lifted the blanket, even Kell could see the vicious purple bruising inside Tracy's thighs. He'd wanted to throw up. Brad did. The woman doctor had given Kell a pleading look to take his emotional friend out of the cubicle. Kell half carried and half dragged his friend, who was sobbing, out of the room and to the men's head.

Taking a deep, uneven breath, Kell scrubbed his eyes with his palms. Clutch had been a mess after that. Tracy'd had a severe concussion, broken nose, broken cheek and needed vaginal surgery to repair the damage done to her. It took Tracy months to recover physically. But that was just the beginning of her journey, Kell discovered.

When Clutch drove her home from the hospital to her condo apartment on the bay, she'd looked exactly as Leah had looked right now. That vacant, haunting stare. No life in her eyes. No...nothing. As if her spirit had been stolen.
Broken.

Kell visited Tracy at least once a week because the Team was in town. Clutch was there almost every day to look after his sister. Tracy was never the same. She didn't remember the rape and in some ways, Kell was relieved. She'd suffered enough. He'd seen her sunny, warm and extroverted personality markedly change after the attack.

Kell began to piece together Leah's previous actions and reactions to him. Damn, they were identical to Tracy's! He remembered a time when Tracy would always throw her arms around him. He'd been like a brother to her. But she was so hesitant to be touched by any man after being raped. Even him, which made Kell confused at first. She would almost shrink inside herself for fear of being touched by
anyone
, even though she'd known him for years. Rubbing his face, the picture became more clear for Kell.

Three years later, Tracy met a man, Kevin Johnson, who was a lawyer at another law firm in downtown San Diego. At first, Clutch was worried sick about her. But when Kell met Kevin, he was impressed with him. He was a very kind, quiet kind of guy. And Kell could see he worshipped the ground Tracy walked on. More than anything, Kell remembered how patient Kevin had been with Tracy. He had, over time, drawn her out of that shell she'd retreated into. By the time they got married, Tracy was almost like her old self, outgoing, warm and caring once again.

Lifting his head, Kell pressed his damp palms against his thighs. Clutch had mentioned Tracy needed to be held sometimes. Kevin had confided to him one time that she'd had terrorizing nightmares and the only thing that brought her out of them was being held by him. Held and gently rocked. And touched in a nonsexual way. And it had worked. It had drawn Tracy out of her shell.

Standing, Kell knew now Leah had been raped. Spousal rape? He'd bet his soul on it, judging from Leah's nightmares and her reactions toward him. She'd been so damned afraid to come into his arms to sleep last night. Now, it all made sense. Leah was afraid, maybe dealing with flashbacks.

Rubbing his mouth, Kell began to pace back and forth in the cave, searching for answers. Searching for the right thing to do to help Leah. And just like Tracy, she'd probably compartmentalized her rape. She'd no doubt walled the experience off so she could function. To the outside world, these women looked normal. Leah was one of the best pilots the Army had. She'd compartmentalized her marriage, the spousal rape, the abuse, and continued to be a good pilot. But now... Kell halted. His mind was making huge leaps and connections.

Leah was frightened because her ex-husband was unexpectedly barging back into her life. She was absolutely terrified. He'd seen it in her eyes. She'd managed to avoid Grant until now. Until this helo crash.

Kell didn't know why Hayden wanted back into her life. Obviously Leah didn't want him there. And neither did Kell because he was protective of her. He rubbed his bearded jaw, feeling rage so deeply that it shook him. Where Kell came from, the way he was raised, women were sacred. He'd never seen his father raise his voice or hand toward his mother. They were equals. A good team. And there was respect between them. He'd been raised to treat women as human beings.

Pacing the cave, Kell remembered more of Tracy's journey. Today, she had a little girl, Sonja, and was happy. She'd quit her job to become a full-time mother to her daughter. Kevin made a whopping amount of money, so it worked for them.

Leah could be happy someday, like Tracy, but it hadn't happened yet.

Aggravated, he ran his fingers through his hair. Ballard paced and thought, trying to keep his feelings out of the equation. He couldn't help Leah if he was a ball of unraveling emotional yarn, as his mother would say. Cold logic was going to get him the answers he sought.

He looked at his watch. It was noon. And his stomach was grumbling. Kell halted, a plan gelling in his mind, based upon his knowledge of Tracy's painful journey from the darkness and into the light once again.

To make matters really sticky, Leah was a warrant officer. And he couldn't just waltz up to Grant and tell him to go to hell. Which is exactly what Kell wanted to do. He closed his fist, feeling his rage toward the Army major. Somehow, he was going to have to enlist his officers' help from the Navy side. His LT, Nate Drager, Dragon, a first lieutenant, OIC, was a solid leader. Everyone called him Dragon, and it was a good name for the six-foot-four-inch former football player. Dragon was a real quiet guy until something went wrong, and then he lived up to his fire-breathing namesake.

Above him was Commander Brody Lanoux, the team's CO. He was a Louisiana Cajun boy whom everyone had dubbed Rambo. And even though Lanoux's Southern charm was always in place, Kell had watched this Navy officer tear assholes off assholes. He left no one standing. Lanoux was a snake, a venomous one, and he had garnered the reputation to go with it. No one fucked with him or his team. Period.

When Kell got back to Bravo, he had to seek their help. High-ranking help. And before that, he had to get the rest of the story from Leah. Kell knew he couldn't push her. It would have to come out of her because she wanted to share it with him. Then, and only then, could he circle the wagons within the Navy and SOFCOM, special operation forces command, to help protect her in case her sociopathic ex-husband decided to try to destroy her career. Kell just wasn't going to let it happen. No way. No how. Major Grant was going to find out in a helluva hurry how the SEAL community reacted to an abuser and rapist of any woman. Grant was a dead man walking.