Bound to Break: Men of Honor, Book 6 (11 page)

“He went home to you.” Sawyer pointed to Jace, who went to the mirror and stared into it. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for the tire marks on my face from the bus you just threw me under.”

“Don’t try to throw me off topic—I invented that shit,” Clint informed them.

“Why didn’t you tell me that he invented it? We should put his name in Wikipedia,” Sawyer said, and Clint shook a finger at him.

“Don’t. Unless you want me to call Rex?”

“He’s unavailable.”

Clint crossed his arms.

“What? He’s dealing with the fallout from Josh.”

“Just like the admiral said,” Clint finished.

“I guess you told him everything,” Sawyer said to Jace.

Jace mouthed “Handcuffs” and pointed to Clint from behind his back.

“I know what you’re saying, Jace.”

“Do you think he really knows for sure, or he just knows you well enough to know you might be saying something?” Sawyer asked.

“Doing it again,” Clint said, but he was already moving around.

“What’re you doing?”

Clint didn’t answer—he was under the mantel for a few minutes and then he said, “Someone bugged this house.”

“When?”

Clint assessed it. “Recently. This one’s maybe a week old.”

Sawyer backtracked, his mind going furiously over what it could’ve picked up.

“Sawyer, this isn’t a typical bug. This won’t record voice or video. This is more of a tracker. It picks up body heat.”

“So they’ll know when someone’s home or not,” Sawyer said slowly.

“There’s one under your car too,” Jace reported. “Figured we’re better off leaving them and not tipping our hand.”

Clint agreed. “I’ll set up some surveillance of my own.”

“This can’t be Josh—he’s under lockdown,” Sawyer said.

“That’s right. But it could be the men who captured him. Because he was turned. Because they want him back, memories or no memories,” Clint said, and Jace cursed.

“You need to tell Rex,” Jace said.

“He’s under enough scrutiny right now,” Sawyer said.

“And if they found out you hid this, that might make it worse,” Clint pointed out. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe Rex is still in danger from the men who captured him? And that maybe you’re involved too?”

Sawyer hadn’t really considered that. Jace hadn’t either, judging by the way he continued cursing. “You think one of those men might’ve been following us last night?”

Clint sighed. “Could’ve been CIA. Could’ve been anyone. But I’m reporting this. And you’ll stay with us until Rex comes home again. No arguments.”

Rex waited in the room where he’d been meeting with JAGs and other naval officers about the mission he’d been a part of. About the capture and release. About Josh.

His own memories had held up, for the most part. He got the feeling now that this was more about making sure he wasn’t in danger.

That was something he’d never really considered, that the terrorist who’d let them go would have further interest in them. Not until one of the JAGs told him that his friend Clint had found bugs planted in his house.

Not until Dashiell Bain, CIA spook, came into the room and shut the speakers off and sat down across from him.

Dash started with, “I know what you two had. Nate filled me in.”

“I know you slept with him,” Rex countered.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No one had to tell me. I saw the way he looked at you.”

Dash’s jaw ticked. “I’ll back off.”

“Do you want to back off?”

“No,” Dash said hoarsely, like it pained him to say so. “But I won’t get in the way of a relationship.”

That wasn’t what Rex expected at all. “You’re not sleeping with him for the job?”

“Started that way. I pretended it did. But now…”

“Did he say he wanted one with me?” Rex asked.

“No.”

“Figured. He doesn’t remember me or the relationship.”

“How do you feel about him?”

“I’m always going to love him, Dash. But I’m in love with someone else. I’m really happy. I don’t want to change that. Besides, I think Josh—Lucky—is falling for you.”

Dash looked hopeful.

“Why are you really here, Dash?”

“Because I’m worried. Those bugs they found…they’re ones that terrorist group used. The ones that captured you. The ones that captured me.”

Rex stared at Dash. “Nate told me that.”

“I figured he would.”

“We’re in the same goddamned place, Dash.”

Dash’s voice was raw when he said, “No, we’re not. You lost a hell of a lot more than I did.”

“You were in captivity too,” Rex said, and it looked like that statement hit Dash like a punch to the gut.

“You knew that the men who hurt us were never caught,” Dash finally said.

“We weren’t privy to that intel. I knew we wouldn’t be sent back to get them but I was hoping, after all this time, that someone caught up to those bastards.” Rex paused. “You’re protecting your family. I can’t blame you for investigating Lucky the way you’ve been—for tailing all of us. But who’s protecting mine?”

“I will,” Dash said.

Chapter Eleven

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Is everything okay?”

Lucky glanced around the room where he’d been waiting for the past half an hour with his constant guard behind him and finally found the source of the voice.

A tall, dark-haired man in BDUs, who was holding the door open for the MP.

“It’s fine,” Lucky managed, and the man nodded and turned his attention to the MP, saying, “I’ve got this. Really. You can’t be in here. Check with your CO—he’ll tell you the same thing.”

The MP finally conceded and the man who would be his psychiatrist from here on out closed the door and looked at him. “Better not to be guarded, right?”

“Much.”

Since he’d been here, in this hospital, he’d spent most of his time locked in a private room on the psych floor. Before that, it was the brig for several days, until his tests came back and Dr. Larkin mentioned the possibility of some damage to his brain that could explain the memory loss.

Now that there was physical proof, he’d been released here. Granted, it was still a jail where they’d continue to assess him, see if he really had amnesia. Once they believed he wasn’t a flight risk, he might be released but would still be required to attend these sessions and do everything he could in order to gain his memory back.

“I’m Dr. Randall Cooper. You can call me Cooper or Coop. Or Doc. Sometimes I’m sure you’ll call me an asshole and it will hurt my feelings. But I’ll live.” His eyes were dark and like most of the other doctors around here, he was friendly. But he also seemed capable, in the way Rex, Nate and Uncle were.

In the way Dash had been.

It had been three weeks and Lucky hadn’t seen any of them. To be fair, he hadn’t asked but figured that the Navy was keeping him isolated for a reason.

He felt constantly watched.

Because you are.

Cooper was the one watching him now. “Josh, do you know why you’re here?”

Here we go.
No reason to hold back. “I don’t know who the fuck Josh is. I’ve got amnesia but the Navy isn’t convinced—everyone I’ve met isn’t sure if I’m lying about that.”

“Are you lying?”

“Look, I don’t remember anything until four years ago when I swam to shore on a beach in South Africa. That’s where my life begins. I’m not Josh—I’m Lucky.”

“I can call you Lucky, if that helps.”

“It helps because that’s who I am.”

Cooper nodded. Jotted something down.

“This is fucking crazy,” Lucky muttered.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you didn’t have a memory when you first got to South Africa?”

He shrugged.

“Your first instinct was to lie.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Cooper sat back. “I think you do. Was a part of you thinking like an operator? Worried that people were after you? Were you doing it for self-protection?”

He probably had been.

“Holding it together in the face of that kind of memory loss, convincing people that you were okay, dealing with that takes a special kind of training. Did that ever occur to you?”

“At points, yes.”

Cooper made a note in the file. “What else occurred to you?”

“Whenever anything did, I shoved it to the back of my mind,” he admitted.

“Give me an example.”

“I’m pretty strong.”

“So are a lot of people.”

“It’s different for me. Once I realized it, I didn’t get into fights. Didn’t want to hurt anyone. But I kept wondering, if I was so strong, how did I get so hurt?”

“And how did you justify that? Maybe you weren’t all that hurt,” Cooper said, sounding slightly disinterested. Or maybe it was because he was writing instead of looking at Lucky and that pissed him off, more than he’d been since he arrived.

He’d been calm and stoic, because he’d known that was the way to stay out of trouble. But he was tired—of being prodded and poked physically, and now, they were going to fuck with his mind and tell him that he hadn’t been hurt?

He stood and started to strip—shirt first, then he was undoing his hospital-issue scrubs and pulling them down and off. Cooper looked like he was about to tell him to stop, but Lucky wasn’t stopping now. Cooper had asked for it.

When he was naked, he turned to show Cooper the scars. He heard the sharp intake of breath and he said, “Real thing’s different than pictures, right, Doc?”

He stood there, letting Cooper see the torture he’d endured, a beating he didn’t know the hows or whys about, a beating he deserved to know about. And he told Cooper that. Told him that he had no fucking clue what happened to him, but he wanted to.

“I need to,” he told Cooper now. “And I’ll work with you, but you need to give me some goddamned answers, not more questions.”

“I’m sorry, Lucky.”

Lucky pulled his clothes on and prepared to leave. But he didn’t. Instead, he sat across from a shaken Cooper, who said, “You have to let me help you. For your sake, not the Navy’s. Yours.”

For the first time since this started, Lucky said, “Okay,” and meant it.

“I’m betting that most people, the Navy included, think it’s easier that you don’t remember?”

“Makes it worse, actually. But I can see their point—if you don’t remember how bad things were, you won’t have the trauma. But I know there was trauma. I don’t know anything else. I didn’t even know I was in the goddamned Navy.”

“First thing you remember—quick, just let it all spill out.”

More questions, but at least Lucky could see the purpose to these. Cooper wasn’t going to find his feelings written in the pages of his medical test results.

“I remember the pain. The fear. It was freezing and I was underwater and I knew what to do. I didn’t panic. How the hell does that happen? I was dumped in the middle of the ocean, tied, and I didn’t panic. I got free and I started to rise to the surface. How would I even know which way that was? My head was killing me—my whole body hurt, but all that mattered was rising to the surface. And then, I kept feeling that panic of never being able to rise to the surface, never being able to grab at the memories. So I just tried to get on with my life and I was scared and in pain, but after that initial panic, it didn’t happen again. Not even when the Navy came to get me.”

“Were you angry about that?”

He shrugged. “Not at the Navy.”

“At who, then?”

Dash, mainly. But he shook his head. “I don’t want to do this.”

He was up out of his seat, until Cooper said, “If you run, you don’t have to deal with any of it, right?”

“Right. I know that. I have amnesia, not idiocy.”

Cooper stared at him.

“What do you want me to say? I’m happy?”

“I want you to tell me the truth, whatever it is. I can deal with it, no matter how ugly you think it is or how stupid you think it might sound.”

“I’m gay.”

Cooper nodded.

“I mean, Josh was gay. And I’m gay.”

“So you’re giving me the born-this-way argument.”

“I guess so. I mean, if I was trying to lie, wouldn’t I pretend to be straight?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“You’re doing it again.”

Cooper smiled. “Force of habit. Does being gay bother you?”

“No. Not remembering the man I had a long relationship with does. Not remembering how old I am, when my birthday was, where my family is bothers the hell out of me. And I’m betting you’ve been told to keep that shit from me until you can assess me further.”

“You’re right.”