I’m standing here, unable to get my feet to move toward the door. Some strange part of me wants to crawl onto my bed and wrap my arms around her, pull her close and hold her tight, to keep her safe.
I don't think I've felt this way toward a woman before. In fact, I know I haven’t, and I can't explain this pull I have toward her. I certainly can't say it’s attraction because her face is just one, big, swollen bruise. But there is a definite pull, a call to protect and keep her safe, and it’s powerful. I can’t explain it. The last thing she needs is to be pawed at by another man, and for some crazy reason, our Iceman is soothing her to sleep. So I back out of the door, closing it quietly behind me, and then head to the liquor cabinet to pour a whiskey double. I sit out on the deck and think about my quiet, emotionless brother. The only thing I know about his past is he grew up in foster care, and something bad happened to him. Maybe he shut it all down and buried it deep, something each of us in our line of work has to learn to do and do well. We have to compartmentalize what we see and do, or we'd go insane. We have our mission faces where we show no emotion, just steel. Maybe it's armor he grew at a young age, and maybe he's somehow… relating... connecting with her. Certainly interesting. Then I ponder my own reactions to this woman – or girl – still can't get a read on her age.
Just then, the slider opens, and Blade and Checkmate come out with their own glasses of whiskey. "Looks like our Tin Man found himself a heart," Checkmate says as he walks over to the other chair and plops down, grabs his pack of smokes, and lights one up. He offers me one, and I take it. Why the hell not. I could use a smoke. He offers one to Blade, and he takes one too, lighting it up. We sit back in our seats and enjoy our smokes in quiet for a moment.
“Never thought I’d see the day when the biggest, scariest mother trucker can comfort someone who’s been through the kinda hell she’s been through. I’m at a loss,” Blade says with a faraway look in his eyes and takes a deep drag from his smoke.
"Well, if there was ever a time it was needed, it's now," I say.
"I know, man. We've seen babies and kids missing limbs, burnt to a crisp; we've seen women raped and beaten, and nothing ever seemed to affect him. When our human side bled through our military armor at times, not once did I see a chink in his,” Blade replies.
“Who knows? He’s a complex creature, and who knows what he has survived from his childhood or when those things we stuff way down start popping up like a jack in the box," I reply.
“True, very true.” Checkmate nods.
“Let's see if we can get details about where she was kept and then see if we can find the place and slay us some mother fuckin’ monsters," I say.
“Hell, yeah, I’m down.”
“You know me, never pass up an opportunity to kill bad guys.” Blade grins.
"I'm gonna grill some steaks," says Checkmate.
"Awesome, I could eat," I say.
“If you want to eat, go nuke some potatoes, fucker.”
I flip him off and down my whiskey.
Chapter Nine
Layla
I wake up and immediately stiffen when I feel a large body behind me in the bed I’m sleeping in. Then, I feel a slight brush on my forehead. “Shh, it’s just me, Butterfly. You were pretty restless and only calmed down when I laid next to you. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You’re safe. I'm not gonna hurt you," Roadblock whispers.
I take a deep breath while trying to calm my rapid heartbeat. Again, his calming, gentle touch soothes me, helping me to relax into him, and I actually feel …. safe. I never thought I'd feel that around a man again.
"What's your real name? Terminator?"
“Terminator?”
“Yeah, you remind me of the Terminator.”
He chuckles. “It’s Neil.”
“You don’t seem to be the kind of man who comforts people, Neil.”
“Not usually, no.”
“Why me?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
I don’t think I’m going to get my answer. I won’t push though. They haven’t pushed me for details on what I’ve been through.
“The bag is empty. Can I get this IV out now?” I ask.
“Let me go grab Hunter. The medical stuff is his jam. I don’t want to mess something up.”
“Okay. Hey…” I say just as he gets to the door.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for… being gentle. I haven’t really known any gentleness from anyone before.”
He gets this soft look on his face and a knowing gleam in his eyes.
“You’re welcome.” And then he leaves the room.
I still don’t know what to make of this situation, but at least no one has beaten, raped, or tortured me like Deputy Butch has – or as I call him, Butcher. What a sick, twisted fuck he is.
"Hey, how you doing, sweetheart?" Hunter asks when he walks into the room.
“Ready to get this IV out.” I croak out.
"Yep, I can do that." He stops and grabs a roll of medical tape and a gauze pad out of a large duffle bag and moves over next to me, taking a seat on the bed and slowly reaching for my hand with a reassuring smile. I find I like his kind honest eyes. He strikes me as a no bullshit, no fluff kinda guy.
He presses the gauze pad onto my hand while he pulls out the IV, holding the gauze in place while he tears off some tape and presses it over the top to keep it from bleeding.
“Better?”
“Much, thank you.”
"You're most welcome." He says with a small smile.
“I take it you’ve done this before?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. Patched up lots of fallen marines along with women and children in my time downrange."
“Downrange?" I ask.
“That’s what we call the war zone where we were stationed, which has been Iraq, Afghanistan, some other places over there as well.”
“Oh.”
"The swelling has gone down quite a bit," he says as he gently touches my swollen eye and my cheek.
"Maybe we put a bag of peas on it, and by tomorrow, hopefully you'll be able to see out of both eyes," he says with a warm smile.
He studies me for a minute and softly touches my cheek with a sad look in his eyes.
“I actually thought you were dead when I saw that grizzly roll you over from where we were crouched down watching those giants battle it out. I’m glad you’re not. I know you’ve been through hell. Even with you not giving any details, I know you’ve been through the unthinkable, but I could never leave anyone, let alone a woman, to die ...especially alone. I’m sorry if you feel like that was your only option, but I believe in fate and second chances. We could have been an hour later, and there wouldn't have been anything left of you. So, I think your story isn’t over yet.”
“Philosophical one, eh?”
“Something like that. Been through a lot, seen a lot more. I see patterns, and yeah, too many things at just the right moment or at the last second helped me toward those beliefs, I guess.”