Page 91 of Keeping a Warrior

Sometimes they didn’t treat them very well, as she’d heard from the village women that afternoon, about how the bored and restless men had amused themselves by shooting feral cats and terrifying everyone in the vicinity. They’d roughed up “suspicious” males while looking for Taliban sympathizers, seeming to take great pleasure in cowing innocent people.

It was awful, and appalling, and if Devon’s presence now provided even the slightest bit of comfort, she’d consider it a job well done.

At last the team seemed to be wrapping things up, and Devon closed her eyes as they carried the dead bomb-maker out of the house and laid him by the side of the road just beyond the perimeter of the village.

Rhys approached, but kept a respectful distance from the group of women as Devon said her goodbyes. When she joined him, he said, “Extraction landing zone’s about three miles west. You okay?”

“Yes.”

The SEALs and Rangers spread out along the rocky trail as they hiked in the direction of the LZ, Devon’s vigilance at an all-time high. The surrounding forest was dark, forbidding, and—Devon was sure—full of eyes. She could feel them on her, feel their hatred, and she waited for the attack, for the hollow snap of bullets...

It didn’t come. At the LZ, everyone took a knee, scanning the perimeter. Not long until the beat of rotor blades, and the first helo landed to whisk the Rangers away. Another short wait, and then it was their turn.

At the outpost, Bradley hurried from the tactical operations center to meet them, having followed the mission in real-time on the drone feed. “Get your after-action reports filed,” he said, “then we’ll meet at 1300.”

Devon glanced at her watch. It was four in the morning, and they had until one p.m. to file their reports and grab a few hours’ sleep. Rhys appeared at her side. “If you want to downstage your gear and work on your AAR at my place, just come over, okay?” He squeezed her shoulder once and left her alone.

In her tiny room, Devon carefully hung up her equipment and then methodically took apart and cleaned her pistol. The smell of cordite was strong, her magazine half-empty.

The look of surprise on his face when I shot him. He didn’t expect the woman to go down fighting.

When she unbuttoned her uniform blouse, a tear in the sleeve caught her eye. It hadn’t been there before, and a chill slithered through her when she saw the char marks on the fabric. It’d been a bullet that’d missed her by mere inches, so close it’d tugged on her sleeve.

The chill turned into an icy coldness that froze her from the inside out. Numbly, Devon gathered up her laptop and a clean T-shirt, then trudged toward Rhys’s hooch, every step a monumental effort.

At her light tap on the door, Rhys tugged it open and moved to take her in his arms. She put her hand on his chest.

“Stop. Not until I’m done with my AAR. If you touch me now, I’ll—”

I’ll fall apart.

Rhys stepped aside to let her in. His laptop was already set up on one end of his small table, but Devon bypassed it and curled up on his bunk with hers.

“Do you want some coffee or a Rip-It?”

His voice was quiet, but Devon still flinched. She shook her head.

For the next hour, the only sound in the room was of tapping keys. It was surreal, trying to put what happened into a crisp, unemotional narrative that would then be scrutinized and torn apart by the higher-ups. Devon wrapped the numbness around her like a cloak.

“Would you read this over for me?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own, dull, and hollow. With a nod, Rhys got up from his chair and lowered himself to the bed next to her.

He took her laptop and read silently. “It looks good.”

Devon said a quick prayer, then hit Send, her report winging itself up the chain of command. She set her laptop aside and pulled her knees up to wrap her arms around them. Rhys didn’t move, his warmth seeping into her and starting to thaw the protective ice around her heart.

Oh, God.

“W-will you hold me now?”

Without a word, Rhys gathered her against him. She burrowed into his chest as the shivers racked her, the adrenaline slowly leaching away to leave her nauseous, her skin prickly and hypersensitive.

Rhys didn’t rub her back, or try to speak, just held her tightly, anchoring her.

“How do you always know exactly what I need?” she quavered, fist twisted into his shirt.

He didn’t answer, but Devon could feel him swallow, his throat working. Realization hit her.

“Have you e-ever k-killed anyone?” Her teeth were chattering like it was the middle of winter.