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She blinked and looked up at him, her hand gripping the material on his shirt. The frightened look on her face made his heart clench. Tears smarted her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. “Wyatt?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Yeah sweetheart, I’m here. We’re at your apartment. You fell asleep, but I promise that you’re safe.”
She closed her eyes, letting out a sigh as she once again relaxed against him. “I had a nightmare.”
He took a deep breath, inhaling her floral scent, and his fingers trailed through her hair. In a way, they were soothing one another. He was angry as hell at the hijackers for instilling fear in her all these months later. Those men had been taken out, eliminated off the face of the Earth, but he was livid that they’d dared to lay a single hand on her. Part of him wanted to punch the hell out of something, to get out his frustration, but he was holding Callie. His heartrate slowed. “Shhh,” he said softly, his hand landing at her nape. “I’ve got you.” She clenched her eyes shut more tightly, a single tear slipping free.
“Shit. Callie, honey, please don’t cry. I hate to see you upset. You’re safe with me.”
“I know,” she whispered, swiping at her tears. “I just hate that I have these nightmares sometimes. I just want to forget this whole thing ever happened—that I was ever on that airplane.”
He squeezed her nape gently, trying to ground her. His thumb trailed over her soft skin, offering his comfort. “I know. Someday, the nightmares probably won’t come as frequently. Trauma is a strange thing. Little reminders can set you off—things you don’t even realize you remember. Details you’d forgotten. We were talking about the hijacking earlier, looking at your blog’s comments, and that didn’t help matters. It was on your mind.”
She blinked away a couple more tears, looking at him with watery eyes. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.”
“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t mind in the least, and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough with me to sleep.”
“What time is it?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“Twenty hundred. Ten o’clock,” he clarified.
“Huh. I didn’t even realize I was that tired. I mean, of course I’m tired with the nightmares keeping me up, but that’s kind of my daily normal now. I dreamt I was back in the cockpit,” she said, shifting slightly so she was looking up at the ceiling. Wyatt adjusted his hand, his thumb now caressing her temple. “One of the hijackers was gripping my arm so tightly, I knew he’d break it. I wanted to get free but couldn’t move. I was too scared to run or fight him.”
Wyatt stiffened. He fucking hated that they hadn’t gotten on that plane sooner. The SEAL teams had moved as quickly as possible, but they’d needed to gather all the intelligence they could and formulate a plan. The bastards who’d taken over the plane had broken her arm while the aircraft sat on the runway. The plane had been there for hours—innocent people trapped, some dying, some hurt. And Callie—his Callie—had been in the cockpit with those monsters. “I hate that you went through any of that,” he said, his voice thick. “None of it was your fault—absolutely none. You did what you needed in order to survive, and for that, I am so damn thankful.”
She looked up at him without saying a word, but Wyatt could tell she was listening—really listening.
“Not everyone can keep a level head in situations like that. I know you were scared, sweetheart, but you did the best thing you could. If you tried fighting or disobeying them, they probably would’ve killed you. That’s what happened to the other passengers who attempted to intervene.”
“I couldn’t fight them anyway,” she admitted. “They had weapons.”
He nodded. “They restrained the pilots. It was a well-thought-out plot. Some of it, at any rate. They were able to execute the hijacking and take over the plane. Returning to Manila didn’t get them anywhere.”
She frowned, lost in thought for a moment. “They went back for a reason.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“No. I feel like they were talking about it.” She shook her head. “Damn it. I wish I could just remember more. Every once in a while, I feel like a memory is right there within reach, but I can’t fully grasp it. It’s like it’s bubbling to the surface, and I want to remember the details, but I just can’t.”
“Would they have told you why they returned to Manila? Honestly, Cal, that doesn’t seem likely.”
She pressed her lips together like she was keeping in a laugh then smiled up at him.
“What’s that thought?” he asked, happy to see her change in mood.
“Some of my girlfriends call me Cal. Mostly friends from college that I see once a year. They’ve got normal nine-to-five types of jobs and couldn’t usually join me on my travels.” He watched her, wondering if she’d continue. She huffed out a breath. “Anyway, I’m losing focus. You’re right, I don’t think the hijackers would’ve outright told me their plans. It’s more like something I overheard. The pilots were in the cockpit, too, but they were restrained and still had their headphones on. I think the hijackers disabled them, so they couldn’t hear anything from air traffic control, but it blocked out their conversation.”
“They didn’t want the pilots to overhear their next steps.”
“Exactly. They didn’t try to hide their conversations from me. I was so scared that they were going to hurt me, I don’t remember everything about it.” She paled. “I think they were going to eventually kill me. One of the men—he wanted—he tried—”
She cut off again, tears filling her eyes, and Wyatt felt rage pooling in his blood. Callie had been fully dressed when she’d emerged from the cockpit while he was onboard with his SEAL team. Had they assaulted her? The broken arm was horrible enough. Callie had never mentioned a sexual assault, but it wasn’t the type of thing one brought up in casual conversations. It’s not like they were close to being intimate with one another yet. “Did they hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and deadly.
She met his gaze. “No. They wanted to. They would’ve, but—” She cut off again, closing her eyes. Wyatt shifted her then, cradling her close as he put her head on his shoulder. Callie didn’t protest, just quietly cried into his shirt as she clung to him. “He said he wanted to rip off my clothes, and just—” Another sob choked out, and he tightened his arms. Wyatt had never felt so fucking helpless. He’d taken out armed insurgents with his rifle, fought in hand-to-hand combat, and slit the throats of enemy combatants without thought. He’d killed before and would do it again. His career meant always walking into danger, where ridding the world of evil was paramount. But having the woman he was falling for in his arms, crying and helpless? He didn’t have a battle plan for that. He couldn’t do a thing but hold and reassure her.
Wyatt held her tightly until her tears slowed, murmuring soft words and promises that she was safe. She finally let out a soft sigh. “Sorry this night turned into a tear-fest,” she joked. “Some host I am.”
“I wouldn’t trade tonight for anything. I’m glad that I can be here for you, Callie. I hate that you’ve been going through this alone. It’s late. Maybe I should just get you tucked into bed.”
