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“It’s really nothing—minor. I caught some adobe when the IED exploded.”
Buck sidled up to him. “I don’t remember you ever holding my hand in a chopper after a battle.”
“Yeah,” D-Day said, “I feel slighted.”
Blitz rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”
Bear looked at Blitz. His blunt, angular features were unreadable as usual. “The FBI Fly Team was solid out there. Commendable.”
Blitz nodded.
A nurse came onto the floor and started assessing their injuries. Once she was convinced all the injuries were minor, she motioned for someone to go into the treatment bay. Blitz looked over toward Bree who was near the rear of the line. She was standing with her back against the wall and her eyes closed. Dirt and sweat streaked her face, unable to cover the beauty there. His shoulder was on fire, but he couldn’t leave her standing there—alone.
Despite all the reservations he had, despite knowing this would be one big mistake in a line of them, he couldn’t leave her to handle the aftermath of this op without some intervention. Aware of the way the guys watched them, he wasn’t going to sacrifice her well-being for some future ribbing. What he wouldn’t endure was the sense of wrong in letting her twist in the wind. Like he’d said, combat was a game changer, prolonged combat could fuck someone’s head up. After their track record from the last week, she was getting hers fucked all over the place. They had been trained to minimize the adrenaline rush and the consequences of direct action. She hadn’t.
He didn’t want to admit that part of him needed to do this as much as she needed him to intervene. Helplessly, he headed over there.
2
“Hey?”he said. She went still, then her eyes flew open, and there was an instant—just an instant—when he saw incomprehension on her face, then a flash of uncertainty, of apprehension, and it reinforced his assumption that she was still processing everything. Understandable. He just didn’t want her to wallow. “How are you holding up?”
She lifted her head, all that emotion disappeared from her eyes, and she gave him one of her glittering looks which meant she was still feeling the effects of the adrenaline. The way men and women reacted to adrenaline was a biological fact. Men came down off the adrenaline high quickly. Within fifteen minutes they were back to pre-fight levels. Women took longer to come down off the adrenaline high, so they stayed angry for longer and it trailed off more gradually up to an hour later.
“Worried about Greg, but otherwise okay,” she responded, that thousand-yard stare gone. As he suspected, she would bounce back, but not quite fully yet. He noted the shaking in her hands. Exhaustion bracketed her mouth and lined her eyes. They needed to shower, eat, and to rest. That would help immensely. Just being in the air-conditioned hospital showed him how hard the heat had hit them all. He sighed.
“He took a round to the shoulder. Did some damage, but I think he’ll pull through,” Zorro said as a way to comfort Huxley’s colleagues. He stood a few feet away, his hands clutching either side of his vest, his dark, piercing eyes confident. Zorro wouldn’t say it if he didn’t fully one hundred percent believe it. “But brace yourselves.” His face turned grave. “I think he’ll be out of this fight for a while.”
She nodded, her face evening out, but that shaking hadn’t stopped. It was winding him up. “It’s the adrenaline,” he murmured. He had never been good at subterfuge. He figured the most direct route was the best way to go.
The light illuminated her dirty face, caught in her long lashes and brought out the copper flecks in her amber eyes. “The aftereffects linger for women. I’m aware.” Her expression froze and she went so still, it was as if she wasn’t even breathing. There was a long, electric silence, her agitation almost palpable. Looking down, her tone artificially bright, she said, “I’ll be fine. Everything is just fine.”
He looked at her. “Two fines don’t make a right, and although you’re a good liar, I know what’s going on in your monkey brain. So, cut the bullshit.”
Her head came up and her gaze riveted on his face, her eyes wide as saucers. She looked down again, her movements jerky. “Did you just call me a monkey?”
She almost made him laugh, as several of the guys chuckled. And he had to admit that he was amused by the way she was maneuvering away from his attempt to engage her in conversation over what happened, but he was a frogman and losing wasn’t in his DNA.
Hooking his hand on his good arm around the strap of his vest, he considered her for a moment, and he could almost feel her squirm. He studied her, not liking the awful tension he sensed in her. He decided then that this little word game was over. Using the same quiet tone of voice, he said, “Yes, I did. Monkey brain, lady, is derived from the Chinese and Buddhist concepts of a ‘monkey-mind’ and is the part of the human psyche that is always restless, distracted, indecisive, frightened, worried. This is the part that worries about what others think. It’s also the part that is socially conditioned to fit in and not make waves—because with all the Big Tough Frogmen and Big Tough FBI men, acceptance into these groups equates to survival when you’re prey. Unfortunately, this is where humans make most of their daily life decisions. And many people get trapped there when faced with life-threatening situations.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m a seasoned agent. I’m not prey, Dr. Freud.”
Some of the guys groaned and Professor chuckled. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Freud. It’s just fact, Bree,” Professor said.
“You might be seasoned,” Blitz said, “but you’ve sustained ongoing combat and that’s different. No matter who you are, these experiences of stress and possible attack will change you.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “This doesn’t mean it will break you, you’ll just be different.”
Flint barked and Bear immediately shushed him, but Blitz could sense it was from the dog’s innate instinct. He knew Bree was in distress. Bear reached for his leash, but before he could clip it on, Flint crossed the hall away from his big handler and stood next to her.
There was an instant, just an instant, where she stood staring at him, almost as if she were paralyzed, then she took a breath, blinking rapidly. Experiencing a fierce, painful cramp in his chest, Blitz forced himself to keep his hand on his vest, the need to touch her almost unmanageable.
Flint folded down to the floor as if he was guarding her.
A lot of people went through this type of response to adrenaline and violence.
Even though he knew it would be cleansing, he understood why she wouldn’t let go here in front of him and the guys. He just hoped she didn’t keep her emotions bottled up for too long. That would take a toll on anyone. Bree squared her shoulders, her eyes gleaming. She looked at him, a depleted expression in her eyes. Beauty and strength under fire.
She let out a hard breath. “Aren’t you full of surprises?”
He gave her a small smile and took her arm, the pain in his shoulder stabbing like a knife. He directed her over to the chairs. Flint was immediately up and pacing close to them.
