25
After a debriefing conversation with Herc, Drew glanced over at Joe’s bedroom. The door stood open, and the interior was dark and still. He would have bet anything that Joe hadn’t moved since they returned to the hotel and Drew helped him into bed.
As expected, the task force had arrived quickly, and Drew turned Abassi over to them without a qualm, too concerned by Joe’s thousand-yard stare to give any fucks about Abassi’s fate. The bad guy was in captivity and his victims in that warehouse were getting help. Drew had done what he could for the task force, but now his focus was entirely on Joe. The day wasn’t saved, yet.
The whole way back to the hotel, Joe had seemed catatonic. His eyes were open, and he obeyed Drew’s instructions, but he hadn’t said a word since he’d sat down on the cold floor of that holding area. Drew had guided him into his bedroom and helped him out of his boots and body armor, and now he was curled up under the covers, unmoving and still silent. Drew wanted to climb into bed with him and nestle close in hopes that having a warm, solid presence nearby would offer some comfort, but he’d had to report to Herc first.
He’d let Herc know he wasn’t sure when they’d be able to leave the country, since Joe was in no state to travel. Herc had assured him they could remain in the suite on the company’s dime for as long as necessary and offered whatever type of help or resources Drew might need. Herc even suggested sending of the company psychiatrists, but Drew didn’t think Joe was in any shape to talk to a shrink yet.
He looked down at his phone, debating whether to call Finn, but he didn’t want to field a bunch of questions that he didn’t know the answers to, so he decided to send a text instead.
Mission accomplished. I’ll fill you in later. Our dumbass needs attention right now.
Then he turned off his phone, left it on the coffee table, and headed into Joe’s room. As expected, Joe hadn’t moved. Drew sat down on the bed and reached over to rub Joe’s shoulder.
“I talked to Herc,” he said. He knew Joe could at least hear him even if he wasn’t processing the words on a conscious level. “He’s coordinating with the task force to mop up. We can stay here as long as you want. There’s no rush.”
He paused just in case Joe decided to respond, but Joe didn’t, and so he took off his boots and got under the covers.
“I’m gonna be right here.” He snuggled up against Joe’s back and draped one arm across Joe’s waist. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Joe didn’t move, and at some point things must have caught up to Drew, because he drifted off to sleep. Sometime later he was woken up by movement, and he realized Joe was thrashing, in the grip of a nightmare.
“No! No! Please don’t! Don’t hit me! I’ll be good, I promise! Just don’t hit me anymore!”
“Joe?” Drew sat up and grabbed Joe’s shoulder to shake him awake. “Joe, wake up! It’s just a nightmare. No one is going to hit you.”
There wasn’t much light in the room, but Drew’s eyes were dark adapted, so he was able to see Joe’s eyes open and the expression of confusion on his face. “Drew? Where are we?”
“We’re back at the hotel.” Drew settled down behind Joe again, and this time, he wrapped his arm around Joe and held him tight. “Everything’s fine. Abassi’s in custody. Herc’s handling the cleanup details. Finn knows we’re okay.”
“Oh.” Surprisingly, Joe didn’t pull away. He was quiet for a long moment before Drew felt as much as heard his sigh. “It’s over?”
“It’s over.” Drew offered a reassuring squeeze. “You did good.”
A shudder ran through Joe. He pulled away, getting out of the bed and rising somewhat unsteadily to his feet. “I need the bathroom.”
Drew threw back the covers and climbed out of bed as well. “You okay?” he asked, watching Joe with growing concern.
Joe nodded jerkily and then headed toward the bathroom. He walked like a man who’d had a few too many, but he made it, turning on the light and closing the door behind him. After a few minutes Drew heard the toilet flush and water running. The water was turned off, but Joe still didn’t come out.
“Joe?” Drew knocked on the door and waited, but when he hadn’t gotten any kind of response after about a minute, he opened the door, deciding the risk of pissing off Joe was worth it to make sure he was all right.
He found Joe leaning on the sink, staring into the mirror with the kind of blank, hollow-eyed expression that Drew had seen before on the faces of men who were close to the edge, and his stomach knotted up at the sight.
“Joe, whatever you’re seeing right now, it’s not real,” he said, resting his hand on Joe’s shoulder and rubbing it gently. “You’re here with me in a bathroom. A really nice one, but still a bathroom.”
Joe didn’t react to the touch, and he didn’t look away from the mirror. “It never ends, does it?” he asked, but Drew wasn’t sure if Joe was speaking to him, or to his own reflection. “Never.”
“No.” Drew hated saying it, but they both knew the truth. “But we do what we can to mitigate the horror. That’s all we can do.”
Joe dropped his head. “I’m so tired. I don’t want to fight anymore.”
Drew was probably the last person Joe wanted comfort from—the last person he’d choose to turn to—but Drew was all he had, and Drew wasn’t going anywhere. His heart ached at seeing Joe’s pain, and he understood it all too well. He’d felt the same way after Stack died.
“Then don’t.” Drew slid both arms around Joe’s waist and held him close. “You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. If you need to rest, rest. I’ve got you.”
To Drew’s surprise, Joe nodded. “Okay. I want to go back to sleep. For a long, long time.”
