“Enough for today,” he managed to say.
“You have it in you, sir.” Gabriel, who resembled a linebacker with a crew cut, smiled with encouragement. “Five more minutes. What’s five more minutes?”
Hell. He closed his eyes. Even his eyelids stung.
“C’mon, Colonel,” Becky urged. “One step.”
He looked at her, physically not like her sister at all but it was obvious they shared a similar spirit and thirst for torture. He shook his head no.
“Try,” she said again, her green eyes hardening with determination.
“I’ve been trying,” he bit out between clenched teeth.
“Colonel, try again.”
Michael glanced at the man from the corner of his eye and wanted to punch him. Of course punching anyone or anything would require physical exertion.
He nodded, tired of fighting with them. They held him while he adjusted his hands on the bar. Every muscle in his upper body protested. He stared down at his feet and willed them to move forward. An inch. A half-inch. Nothing. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to picture himself jogging as he once had every morning. He visualized himself jogging on a mountain trail, morning air cool and damp on his skin, mist rising from the valley below. He could almost smell the pine trees…almost.
His strength gave out and he fell back onto his chair. Arms limp he stared at the reality around him. Other patients worked with physical therapists. Some lifted weights at the far end of the room. He glanced toward the windows and the mountains beyond the city. Sweat dripped into his eyes and down his face but he made no effort to wipe it away.
Becky adjusted his legs while reassuring him that he had made incredible progress for his first week.
“Where is Hope? Have you heard from her lately?” he asked. When she gritted her teeth together and refused to meet his gaze or answer, he knew that she was holding back.
He closed his eyes. This pain was indescribable. He wanted to die. He wanted to curl up and die, wished at times like these that he had died. At least then he would have died in battle instead of living through this daily nightmare. Just like his tattoo said...death before dishonor.
“We’re done for today, Colonel.” Becky pushed his chair back to his suite. “How did your therapy session with Dr. Sade go this morning?”
He rolled his eyes. He now had mandatory psychotherapy every morning with Dr. Sade as a condition of staying at New Horizons. He looked at his hands instead of answering.
“Colonel,” McGee said from where he sat on the sofa playing Xbox. “I didn’t think you would be back yet.”
He growled under his breath. The overgrown child on his sofa wore on his last nerve. He wanted to know what was going on and he wanted to know now.
“Sit down,” he ordered Becky when she was about to turn on her heel and leave. “And, you, turn off that damn video game. You’re both annoying the hell out of me.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, Colonel,” Becky bit out from between clenched teeth.
“Yes, you do. Sit.” He pointed to the sofa.
By the way she looked at him, he wondered what bad news weighed her down. The cheerful grin from Monday morning had long since disappeared. His power to bring people down amazed him. He should write a How-to-Depress-Even-Miss-Perky book.
“You look worried. Is it my physical progress, the outburst from Tuesday or my legal issues that makes you look like that?” Fighting off the doom, he twisted his hands in the material of his sweatpants. “Which one is it? Tell me.”
“Should I go?” McGee stood. “If this is a patient/therapist issue—”
“Sit.” He pointed toward the sofa until McGee complied. “Where is Hope? Tell me exactly what happened,” he said to McGee who stiffened into his Deny-Everything-Admit-Nothing Marine face. “I know she’s in danger. I deduced that much when she sneaked in here in the middle of the night, but now I want details and I know you two have them.” Not even a flutter of an eyelash from McGee. “Tell me where the hell my wife is and what she’s gotten herself into this time.”
“Wife? Did you say wife?” Becky stared at him, mouth agape. “What?”
He looked toward the cactus. For a shot of ouzo, he might dredge up a miracle and walk on his own damn two feet if these fools didn’t answer him soon. He tossed the wedding picture into her lap before moving toward the kitchen and grabbing a soda.
“What’s this?” she asked before turning her attention to McGee. “You’re in this picture, what is this? Where is this?”
“Greece, ma’am. Mykonos,” McGee answered.
He rolled his eyes as he let McGee fill in the details. The soda was a pale substitute for what he knew rested behind that cactus. He dropped his glass and cursed as soda spread across the counter.
“You’re not like her at all,” she finally said in a voice barely loud enough for him to hear. “She is the eternal optimist, always fighting for the underdog, always searching for the answer. Hope would battle to the death for people she loves or a cause worth fighting. You…you gave up a long time ago.”
Staying quiet—his new special talent in addition to depressing people—his focused on the bottle hidden behind the cactus.
“You two are married.” Becky jabbed the picture through the air like a sword dripping with accusation. “Married? How did this remain a secret? Why is it a secret? Why are you here? Why aren’t you in outpatient therapy and living in that monstrosity of a loft she bought? You’re married? This isn’t a joke? This is real?”
“She told me I was threatened when she came here, but that was two days ago now. Two days. Where is she? She’s too stubborn to just leave me alone for days when I’m in the same city so…” he noticed the look she and McGee exchanged. “What’s going on?”
“She told me not tell you. Actually, she threatened to pull my hair out by the roots until I was bald if I told you. By the way, what do you mean she sneaked in here? That’s completely against protocol.” She chewed her lip as she studied him as if trying to see inside his soul.
“Sir, she asked me not to tell you what’s going on. Made me promise.” McGee shrugged, his expression softening. “I owe her after Frankfurt.”
He hated being stuck in this place. He wanted out. O.U.T.
“If one of you doesn’t tell me exactly what’s going on, I’m going out the front door, hailing a taxi and going to the television station. I guarantee you someone there knows where she is.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared them down. “Dare me. I’ll do it.”
He had no idea how he would do it, but it felt damn good to imagine.
“Two men attacked her and Devon Tuesday night in City Park. They beat her up pretty badly. Bad enough where she called me from the hospital. She gave me her key, told me to pick up Dude for a few days, now I can’t find her. She left the hospital and vanished. Devon is missing, too, from what I understand, but no one at the station is giving me any answers.” Becky looked again at the picture. “I can’t believe you’re married. You’re my brother-in-law? Oh my God.”
He remembered her in the baggy scrubs, handing him a gun, asking if he loved her, questioning his reflexes. She was in more danger than he’d assumed. He should have pressed for details when he’d had the chance. Now she was missing. God only knew what kind of mess she was in and here he was...surrounded by yellow walls and fools.
“She told me off Tuesday in the parking lot, told me that you are the only one who understands her. I thought she was going to punch me by the way she went off about your heroics and being the only one in her life. But I never once thought you were her husband. My God. How do you keep this kind of thing a secret?” Becky walked toward him and dropped the picture in his lap. “Why would you? She’d go to the mat for you.”
Ignoring her, he focused on McGee. It made sense now. She’d asked McGee to camp out here to protect him. Maybe she hadn’t had the faith in him he’d thought. He gritted his teeth and stared at his friend.
“It
’s not what you think,” McGee said as if reading his mind. “She doesn’t think you’re helpless. She doesn’t trust the security here and wanted me to just hang out until she gets back.”
“Back from where?” he and Becky asked in unison before glaring at each other.
“I am not at liberty to say, sir.”
“Cut the sir crap, McGee, we’re both civilians now whether we like it or not. Call me Michael or Mike or…” He shoved his hands through his hair. “Fine. I get it. You made a promise and you’re keeping it. How long are you planning on hanging out here?”
“Until she calls me, sir.” McGee stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Right now I think you two need some privacy so I’m going for a walk. Be back in a fifteen minutes.”
“Gee, I hope I can handle myself until then,” he said before moving to the refrigerator to look for a distraction. Apples. Who had bought him apples? He wanted a beer, maybe some cheese, anything but an apple.
“Want to tell me about the marriage?”
“Nope.” He bit into the apple and noticed the business card Hope had left the other day. He needed to call her. He would go to her. Hell, he could do it. He looked at the chair…the business card…the window that framed the skyline. He could do it.
He could convince McGee to drive him. That’s what he would do. McGee would do anything for him, he knew that. They would go.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but the answer is no.” Becky moved to block his view. “I know that look because my sister gets it almost every time I see her. She had that look Tuesday in the parking lot when I saw her with Devon. She had that look at the hospital despite the black eye and stitches. The woman could barely hold a pen when she wrote down the instructions for Dude, but she had that look on her face.”
“How badly was she injured?” The thought of some random men putting their hands on her took his breath away.
“Tell me about being married to my sister.” For the second time since knowing her, she lost her professional veneer, leaned over him and stared into his face. “When did this happen? Why is it a secret? Why am I the last to know? Answer my questions before I say one more word to you.”
He took another bite of the apple, his plan with McGee taking shape in his mind even as he made eye contact with Becky. “Eleven months and two weeks ago we eloped to Mykonos. We kept it a secret because it was the safest decision we could make at the time. If the insurgents had discovered that a US commander had his wife nearby, she would have been a target for kidnapping or murder.”
“That explains Afghanistan, but what about now?” Becky stared at him as if trying to see into his soul.
“My fault. I wanted to give her an out. I…behaved badly.”
“You? Behaved badly? Hard to imagine.” Sarcasm twisted her lips. Sparks flew from her eyes. He definitely saw the resemblance between the Shane women. “And you hurt her?”
He took his time chewing before swallowing. With a sigh, he nodded. “Yes, I hurt her. Not physically…never that…but in other ways.”
“You don’t deserve her, war hero or not, you don’t deserve my sister.”
He looked away. He hated the insecurity that still whispered through his brain when it came to Hope Shane. “Can we stop this now? I need to know what you know about her injuries. She hides so much, you know. Likes people to think she’s invincible, but she’s not. She went through a lot over there…and back here. She’s fragile.”
Becky narrowed her eyes at him before standing, hands on hips. “Fragile? I don’t think so. She is a warrior. No one messes with my sister,” her voice hitched on the last word. Tears shimmered over the sparks.
“So she looked bad then, is that it? Really bad?” He nodded when she said nothing. “What story is she working on?”
“Neither she or Devon would say. The FBI was there, though, which I thought was odd.” She sank onto a kitchen chair and chewed her knuckle. “It’s not odd, is it? I mean, this is the kind of thing she does, isn’t it? This is the stuff that wins her an Emmy and gets her on national news, right? She’s dangerous.”
Hope had told him how she felt misunderstood by her family. The black sheep, she had said, always judged and criticized regardless of her accomplishments. He frowned. He had witnessed Hope’s courage every day. More than that, he had witnessed her generosity, her spirit, her charm and her humor. He doubted Becky knew anything about her.
“So am I,” he whispered, leaning forward in his chair until Becky looked at him. “I killed men…even women. I have seen things that you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares. I could snap your neck in minutes if I wanted. I am dangerous, but that is not all that I am. And it doesn’t make me a bad man…or evil. Nothing Hope does is because she wants glory or is because she is bad in any way. You said it yourself...she’s a warrior.”
“She’s reckless.”
“She called you from the hospital so you would take care of her dog. She called McGee to look out for me. That isn’t reckless. She’s fearless.” He grinned when Becky brushed away a tear. “She kept her big mouth shut about being my wife because she respected my wishes, even though she was going through hell and needed her husband.”
Becky pulled at her spiky hair and looked toward the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’m related to you.”
“Likewise. Holidays should be a ton of fun.” He took another bite of the apple.
“Well, they definitely won’t be dull.” A hint of a smile stirred at the corners of her mouth. “I can’t wait for that pale faced Callie to meet her. Hope will rein down all kinds of hell on that bitch.”
He laughed. Yes, it was true. Hope versus Callie would be no contest. Becky laughed with him, her eyes softening.
“You need to work harder to get home to her. She has a huge loft, even bought the one next to hers with plans of knocking down a wall. I didn’t understand why until now. She’s been making plans for you and Dalton.” She leaned back in her chair and sighed without looking away from his face. “I may not be close with her like I would like to be, but I’m a great physical therapist. I need to do the best job I have ever done and push you until you can go home to her. Are you hearing me? You need to give a damn. She thinks you’re all she has.”
Sober, he looked at her. Really looked. Given how screwed up he felt, he didn’t consider himself much of an asset.
“I have a long way to go.” Against his will, he glanced at his legs.
“You’re dangerous, remember?” When she smiled, she looked more like Hope than he had originally noticed. The spikes tended to detract from the resemblance. “Maybe you need to channel some of that killer instinct to learning how to handle your new challenges and get out of here.”
“New challenges.” He rubbed his palm on his right thigh. “You and I both know my left leg is useless. I can’t feel a thing. I can try to stand but I will never be that guy you see in that picture.”
“Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “What about your right leg? You and I both know you feel pain in your right leg. You and I both know you can stand, have the potential of limited mobility. I’ve seen worse cases and so have you.”
When McGee walked back in looking sheepish, he had an idea that he had heard from Hope. Tossing the apple core aside, he glanced at his friend who hovered near the door.
“You should probably go, Becky,” he said, “I’m sure you have other victims to torment today.”
She looked between the two men. “Is everything good here then? You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”
“Like what? Play another video game with my best friend McGee?”
“Like doing something to set yourself back a few months. You haven’t even been here for a solid week yet you’re already on probation.”
“Look at me. What could I possibly do to get myself into trouble?”
“Sounds like something my sister would say,” she muttered before leaving the two alone.
Chapter Eleven
&n
bsp; “Shane’s gonna kill me for this,” McGee whispered under his breath. “She doesn’t seem like a woman who likes surprises.”
“She’ll get over it.” He grinned against the breeze from the open window of McGee’s van. Not only had he never envisioned either of them in the front seat of a mini-van, he had also never dreamed he would be stalking his own wife.
He looked up at the five story brick building on the outskirts of downtown Denver. Rush hour traffic jammed past their parked van on the street. The curve of the white roller coaster from the downtown amusement park could be seen a few blocks away. Joggers moved from the street to the park behind the building that followed the river.
Home. He chewed his lip. He could barely contain the emotion surging inside him. Somewhere in that building was a home he hadn’t been aware of having.
“Becky’s not going to be happy about us sneaking out of there,” McGee said, his face easing into a smile. “Maybe we should just grab a beer while we wait for Shane to come home. Are you up for that?”
He smiled at his old friend. They had seen battles together and lost mutual friends. “I don’t know. We haven’t conquered Eating Out 101 at the Institute yet.”
“How hard can it be? Come on, Colonel. We’ve made it this far, in a mini-van no less, why not brave the bar scene?” McGee rolled up the windows before looking at him expectantly. “How long has it been since you’ve had a beer in a bar in the good ol’ US of A?”
His smile faded. He looked down at his legs, familiar doubt whispering through his brain. What he said to Becky? That he was dangerous? Well, he had made it this far in a mini-van.
“It’s been too long,” he admitted before looking at the sidewalk. His heart drummed in his ears. Looking at the people walking by on their way home or running errands, he felt suddenly like a fish out of water. Now he understood the need for the transitional facility...he’d gone from a war zone to a hospital to...reality.
McGee was out and around the van before he could change his mind. Before he knew it, he was sliding into his chair and moving along side his friend. Strangers moved past him without looking at him. The evening air chilled against his skin. The breeze blew hair into his eyes. When they entered a crowded bar, he felt energized by the scene of people laughing and televisions competing with music.