She crawls to the edge of the bed and drops her legs over the edge. As soon as she gets her feet on the ground and attempts to stand, she collapses. I rush to her, and she cowers, curling into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible and moving as far away from me as she can.
I kneel down next to her, softly stroke her back, and say in the most soothing tone I can muster, “It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise you’re safe. You’re completely safe here. We want to help you. We aren’t going to hurt you. You can trust us. You’re safe.”
I continue to whisper while rubbing her back, “Would you like me to help you up? Or can you manage on your own?” I know she can’t, but I want to give her the options here so she knows she’s in control.
“You promise not to hurt me?” she asks.
“Of course. We absolutely won’t hurt you. I promise,” I say.
“Okay. I need help," she asks after studying me for what seems like an eternity.
“Okay, sweetheart. You’ve got it.” I gently help lift her up and guide her slowly to the bathroom.
"If you fall or need help, holler for me. When you're finished, I can help you back out.”
I start to leave, taking one glance back to make sure she’s stable, and step out, closing the door behind me.
“I’m gonna make her a sandwich. I'll be back," Roadblock says and heads to the kitchen.
Checkmate wanders in immediately after Roadblock disappears and looks around. "Where's our guest?"
“Bathroom. She woke up a few minutes ago.”
“Is she … freaked out?”
“Oh yeah, she’s terrified. Did you find anything?”
“Six hunting cabins under three miles from where we found her. One hasn’t been used since the owner died twenty years ago.”
"How far away was that one?"
“About two and a half miles. It’s remote with no access roads leading to it, and the map shows it’s surrounded by a lot of trees and dense scrub leading to it. Can’t even get a good look at it through the branches. It’s gonna be a rough hike."
We both look toward the bathroom as the door opens and she leans against the door frame.
She freezes when she sees a new face.
"This is Checkmate, my other brother from the military. He won't hurt you, sweetheart. I promise you’re safe. Do you need help, or are you feeling sturdier?”
She studies us both for a long moment and then a look of defeat spreads across her face before she gives a little nod.
"It's okay. We all need some help now and again. Been there myself. Nothing to be ashamed of. Let’s get you back in bed. Roadblock is bringing you a sandwich. Does that sound good?" I ask.
“Yes, thanks.”
“Here you go, Butterfly. I made you a sandwich – Turkey, cheese, and mayo. That okay?”
She looks up at him and cowers back. I don’t blame her. He’s one large, imposing mother fucker, but I’m seeing a gentler side to him than I’ve ever seen before. He sets the food down on the nightstand and walks out of the room.
"We won't ask you any questions right now. We'll get to those another time. Right now, just eat, know you’re safe, and rest,” I tell her.
Checkmate and Blade give her a nod before leaving the room. “I'll be out in the living room. If you need me, just holler. I’ll leave the door cracked so I can hear you, okay?" I ask, and she gives me a small nod. I close the door behind me and let her be.
Chapter Six
Layla
Hunter and the others left me to be alone in this room, and I scarf the food down. When I’m done, I lay back down, feeling sleepy from the pain meds they gave me and wondering how I'm even alive right now. I just remember blow after blow, begging for the darkness to take over, and praying I’d never wake up again. Instead, I find myself in the bedroom of one of four GI Joes if they’re telling the truth. It feels like they are. They all have really short hair, all have this alpha stance that has an air of I-can-kill-you-a-hundred-eighty-five-ways-with-my-bare-hands about them. If they wanted to hurt me, they could have. The one in charge, Hunter, does seem to have knowledge about the medical equipment and seems to want me to heal. Hopefully, that's not just to keep me for themselves so they can rape me. I don't really sense that sort of vibe from them. They all give off a protective kind of presence, and it is different and unexpected, kind of comforting.
Somehow, the medic in charge was able to calm my fears with his kind eyes, and it helped that he kept telling me I was safe, over and over. I wish I could believe that, but I don't think as long as I live, I'll ever feel safe again. Especially knowing who's going to be looking for me once they discover the morons left me, thinking I was dead. Once he discovers I'm not, he and his posse of deputies spread over the next few counties will be looking for me, knowing what I know and what they look like.
“Yeah, sorry boys, but you should have left me to die,” I mutter to myself just wanting to go back to sleep.
Chapter Seven
Homicide
(48 hours after finding Layla)
We all watch as she reaches for her plate and sets it on her lap, looking at each one of us to see if we’re gonna pounce on her or not, and then slowly picks up her sandwich to take a small bite. She chews and swallows, and then it's a full-on frenzy. She starts eating so fast like she hasn't eaten in a week, and hell, maybe she hasn't. She finishes her sandwich, looks up, and then looks embarrassed. Not one of my brothers gives her any kind of notion that she's done anything strange. In fact, Roadblock slowly gets up, approaches her, holds out his hand, and gestures for her plate as he asks if she'd like more or something else.
She shakes her head no, handing the plate to him, and he takes it to the kitchen, returning with a hostess chocolate cupcake. He hands it to her, and none of us miss the big eyes of longing for that chocolate cupcake.
“Here you go, Butterfly. Figure all women like chocolate," he says with a small smile. Holy shit, did that mother fucker smile? I look at my brothers, and they, too, are in shock. Damn.
He comes back over and sits down, and she tears open the wrapper. On her first bite, the one eye she's able to open closes, and if I was a betting man, I'd say she was thinking that cupcake tasted like heaven right about now. I get up, grab her a fresh water bottle, remove the cap, and set it down next to her then take my seat.
“Can we ask your name since you know ours?” I ask.
She takes a sip, swallows the last of her cupcake, sets the bottle down, and asks, "What kinds of names are Roadblock, Check…...mate? And Blaze?
“Blade like a knife,” Blade corrects.
“Oh, sorry.”
"No worries. Sweetheart. They're our call signs, and we've had them so long they just stuck. We almost forget we have given names," Blade says with a chuckle.
“Oh, right...you said military?”
"That's right. We were all on the same team, fighting bad guys," Checkmate says with his charming smile and southern drawl.