The KGI teams had gone in search of Nathan four times already, the first two without permission by Uncle Sam. Not that they gave a flying fuck. Resnick had dragged his heels, not wanting any part of a potentially sticky situation between a private rescue operation and any U.S.-sanctioned rescue operation, not to mention the fallout when KGI kicked the shit out of whoever held their brother.
By the time official permission had been given, KGI was already staging their third mission to the Middle East. It hadn’t surprised any of them that while Uncle Sam was willing to not kick their asses over it, they sure as hell weren’t giving official support either.
“You’re on your own,” Resnick had grimly stated.
Yeah, what else was new?
Not that Donovan thought Resnick was a total asshole. His hands were tied. It wasn’t like in the past when the government had a personal stake in supporting one of KGI’s missions. There was no CIA most wanted this time. No criminal or threat to national security. Just a brother Donovan had no intention of relying on others to mount a rescue for.
Joe was still laid up and casted and he was one pissed-off motherfucker that his twin was out there and he couldn’t go after him. He wasn’t even officially out of the army yet, so whether he was good to go or not, Uncle Sam still had a tight leash on his ass.
It didn’t mean he was shy about busting the rest of his brothers’ balls over going in to get Nathan out.
If they only knew where the fuck to find him.
“Van, get me the latest satellite imagery. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see movement,” Garrett said.
Donovan turned to the computer they called Hoss and leaned over to call up the map. They’d only been back a few days. They couldn’t remain in Afghanistan indefinitely. It was too risky. They had to get in and out and make their recon stealthy. But he was itching to go back. He hadn’t wanted to leave. Nathan was there. Somewhere. And he needed them.
He printed the map so they could compare it to the last captured image and started to walk away when he saw the new email alert in the lower-left-hand corner.
He clicked to pop up the message, frowning when he saw the recipient. It wasn’t anyone he was familiar with and it was one of those obviously fake Hotmail addresses that usually meant SPAM.
Then his gaze dropped to the message and he froze.
Nathan said to talk to Joe. He’s not far from last coordinate. Said to tell you Korengel Valley. He needs your help. He won’t last much longer.
That was it? Dear God. Donovan stared in helpless fury at the vaguely worded message. Ask Joe? Like they hadn’t already grilled their brother mercilessly? Like Joe hadn’t told them everything he knew?
“Son of a bitch!”
Was this how Ethan felt when he’d received information about his wife, Rachel? How the fuck was he supposed to take something like this seriously? How could he not? Especially when the information about Rachel had led them right to her?
“What’s up, Van?” Sam demanded.
Donovan slowly turned around to face his brothers. “You have to see this.”
NATHAN lay in the dark, willing himself to rest, but every muscle in his body was tense. Pain had crept back in hours past, but he’d remained silent, not wanting to say her name. He hadn’t allowed himself to even think it.
It was agony because he wanted her there in his mind. He wanted the reassurance of another human being. He ached for the comfort only she could give him. But he didn’t want her to take his pain. He didn’t want her to suffer again.
And so he lay there and endured both physical and mental anguish.
His thoughts were consumed with escape, revenge, hatred, hopelessness, but mostly escape. He closed his eyes and imagined himself back home with his brothers having beer on the lake. Ma’s home cooking. His dad’s steady presence. Rachel’s sweet smile. Even Rusty’s smart mouth.
Would he ever see them again?
He couldn’t bear to think of the pain his family was going through. They’d already endured so much with Rachel’s captivity and then his mother’s abduction. How much more could they take?
He shook his head. It wasn’t a matter of what they could take. The Kellys were unshakable. He worried more about his own sanity and, if he did get back home, how much he would be changed.
You’ll go back home, Nathan. You have to believe that.
His pulse rocketed and he sat up. Relief made him weak. His hands shook and his knees wobbled. She was back.
I sent the email to your brother. It’s not a lot of information, though. Have you been able to think of anything else that might help them locate you sooner?
Nathan hunched over and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees. He hated that hope fluttered deep inside him. Like a coal in a dying fire that still had some heat left.
Nathan, talk to me. You can’t lose hope. You aren’t going to survive without hope. If you give up now, there’ll be nothing for your brothers to find.
Tell them…Goddamn it, I don’t know! I haven’t seen daylight in I don’t know when. I’ve been in this shit hole, and when I’m not here, they’re working me over in some dank, moldy room. I’m so damn disoriented most of the time that I have a hard time separating what’s real and what’s not.
Something clicked in his mind, and he closed his eyes for a moment as he brought back the image of them killing Taylor.
Cave. I’m in a fucking cave.
What hope he’d briefly entertained dwindled to nothing.
They’ll never find me here. There are caves all over these mountains.
Then you have to escape.
He tried to laugh but the sound came out as a harsh rasp. You make it sound so easy. Don’t you think I would have escaped already if I could? I’ve tried! God knows, I’ve tried.
You didn’t have me before.
The resoluteness of her words brought an abrupt halt to the pity train.
Do you have some other kind of powers? Besides being able to talk to me in my head and hear my thoughts?
Unfortunately no. But we’ll work with what we have.
I was being an ass. You’ve taken my pain and that’s no small thing. I don’t know how you do it or why, but I’m grateful. I don’t think I’ve ever even said thank you.
You’re hurting now.
It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it but then he realized the absurdity of denying what she already knew.
Before he could respond, warmth spread through him. To his very core. He couldn’t even describe the sensation of comfort sliding so deeply into his heart and mind. He wanted to tell her to stop, that he didn’t want her to hurt in his place, but he was overwhelmed and nearly shattered by the instant relief that swamped him.
And then he became aware of her huddled, wrapping her arms around her body, her soft moans sliding through his mind. Without thought as to how to accomplish it, he simply reached out, imagined holding her to offer the comfort she so selflessly offered him.
She went still, suddenly alert and wary. And then as if realizing who it was who held her, she relaxed.
He was immediately assailed by the feel and smell of her. Her scent drifted through his nostrils, a sharp and welcome contrast to the odor of sweat and blood and death.
The sensation of holding her was so keen that he closed his eyes and imagined himself in a place far away from his present reality.
She was warm in his arms, though she still trembled from the aftereffects of taking his pain. Her hair was soft against his cheek, and he rubbed up and down, feeling the tickle of the strands against his nose.
He inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of her shampoo. Honeysuckle danced through his nostrils, reminding him of summers in Tennessee.
Tell me about you. You said you were in trouble.
She tensed and he panicked, thinking that she would withdraw. His link to her had become the single most important thing in his existence.
Tell me anything, he hastily amended. Just talk to me. Who are you? How do you have this ability to talk to me, to take my pain and hear my thoughts?
She laughed softly. You don’t ask for much.
We can talk about anything. I just hate the silence.
He felt the soft explosion of air against his neck as she sighed.
I don’t know how or why I have the abilities I do. I’ve always had them, at least for as long as I can remember. My mother always knew I was different or so she said. She told me a story of when I was a toddler and she burned her hand cooking. She cried out and I grabbed her hand only wanting to take the pain from her.
She said I started to cry the longer I held her hand, and when she pulled it away I had an identical burn mark on my palm. She said her pain was completely gone but we both had a blister.
He went completely still as he grappled with what she’d just told him. Dread gathered in his gut. Are you telling me that when you take my pain from me, you actually take on the wounds as well?
She was quiet for a moment.
Tell me, he said fiercely.
What do you want me to say, Nathan? Yes, I take the pain and the marks or wounds, but it isn’t permanent. They don’t last as long as yours will. They often begin to fade within a few hours.
Son of a bitch. I don’t want you to do it anymore.
It’s my choice.
Why? Why, goddamn it? You don’t know me. I could be a complete asshole. Why would you do something like that for me at such a risk to yourself?
Because you need me.
Because he needed her. It was an explanation he couldn’t even wrap his mind around. It was so simple and yet baffling. Did anyone ever just do for someone because they needed it? It wasn’t like she was helping a hungry child, or giving money to a homeless person. She was taking on unimaginable pain. Because she didn’t think he could bear it any longer.
You were so close to giving up. I was in your mind, Nathan. I knew what you were thinking. What you were feeling. It broke my heart. I couldn’t not help you.
Shame slid through his chest. Guilt that he’d been so weak to even briefly contemplate giving up. Because of that weakness she’d taken far more than she ever should have. And yet, could he have survived if she hadn’t?
He knew the answer. It ate at him that he was so dependent on this faceless woman, just a whisper in the dark. Now that the connection had been made, he’d go insane if it was broken.
There’s no shame in needing someone, she offered softly.
He considered her words for a moment. No, I don’t suppose there is.
You just have to hold on until your brothers come for you. I know how you see them, that you have absolute faith in them. Hold on to that and you’ll be home soon.
You’re a fucking miracle, Shea. I don’t know what the hell I would have done if you hadn’t spoken to me when you did.
You would have endured.
You have more faith in me than I have.
I see who you are, Nathan. The heart of you. You can’t hide that from me. A weaker person would have already given up. You didn’t.
Her words filled him with determination. Her faith humbled him. It made him want to be the man she saw, the one she believed him to be.
You’re going to escape. I’ll be with you the whole way. We just have to wait for the right time. We can do this.
Maybe it was the way she said it with such conviction. Or maybe it was that she said we in every instance. Like they were a team. It was a promise never to leave him and it heartened him in a way he hadn’t been able to do for himself since his captivity.
Whether she was real or imagined, he thanked God for her. His own personal angel in hell.
SHEA left the comfort of Nathan’s arms when the link became too much to maintain. Her body still quivered with lingering pain, but the marks on her skin were gone.
She stumbled into the shower and ran the water as hot as she could bear it and stood under the spray, her forehead resting against the cool tile of the stall.
What the hell was she doing? She couldn’t afford to weaken herself as she had done with Nathan. Just maintaining the link for so long was taxing enough, but the pain took it out of her when she had nothing to spare.
What if she were found again? Would she even have the strength to run?
But she’d made him a promise and she wouldn’t break it. She couldn’t bear the thought of him not making it back home to his family.
The only solution for her was to keep moving. Preemptive run. If she kept constantly on the move, then she would lessen the risk of her being caught at her most vulnerable.
She almost reached out to Grace. She bit her lip to prevent herself from saying her sister’s name. Her heart grew heavy until the ache crawled up her throat and into her jaw.
“I miss you,” she whispered.
Maybe it was why she’d reached out to Nathan. His desolation matched her own. They were both lonely and desperate. Perhaps she saw in Nathan someone whose situation was worse than her own and she’d been unable to turn her back even if it was what she should have done.
When she was through with her shower, she dressed and picked up the bag she hadn’t yet unpacked. She stepped from the hotel room and shivered as the cold mountain air sliced through her T-shirt.
