She gripped his arm so tightly he’d likely have bruises in the morning. They’d go nicely with the one he was probably sporting on his jaw. Denise had a mean right hook. He released a sigh and pressed his forehead to the back of her neck, the tension leaving his body. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted her to want him to stay until that moment. He had no idea what would happen tomorrow, but she needed him in that moment, whether she could admit it or not. If this was all she needed, so be it. This was what he would giveher.
* * *
Chris jerkedawake when Denise left the bed. Watching her walk to the bathroom, he realized he hadn’t taken her bra off when he’d carried her to bed. She closed the door and he released a pent-up breath. Was he supposed to leave now? The toilet flushed and he took the coward’s way out—he closed his eyes and pretended to beasleep.
The bed shifted as she eased back into it, giving him her back, but pressing close to him. Cracking open his eyes, he stared at the back of her head and concentrated on keeping his breathing slow and even. She rolled to her stomach and pulled the pillow under herhead.
“I was an interrogator at an Operational Detachment in Iraq,” she said. “One of the ones no one admittedexisted.”
So much for pretending to be asleep. He half rolled on top of her, pressing his lips to the center of her back. Her chest rose and fell with eachbreath.
“I got involved with one of the senior interrogators. He was CIA. Older. More experienced. I was young and still naive, but I was good at my job. I was able to get information without resorting to some of the more…drastic measures, but I did that, too, when I hadto.”
He didn’t say anything—he didn’t want to interrupt her and possibly derail her story. Instead he rubbed his lips across her back, tracing her tattoo of Joan ofArc.
“Back then, they still took women and children off the objective if they missed the primary target. One night they went out for a key Al-Qaida leader but he wasn’t at the target house. They brought back his sister instead and her ten-year-old son. His name was Ali. He came because he was protecting his mother’s honor. Preston, the guy I was involved with, decided the sister had information on her brother’s activities, so they decided to keep her in detention along with Ali. I was sent in as a friendly face to get information since it wasn’t acceptable to torturewomen.”
She paused and he couldn’t help but think a guy named Preston was a pretentious asshole. He’d never hated someone so much in his life for no other reason than hisname.
“After a couple of weeks, I was told to concentrate on Ali instead. The kid was funny. And smart. He picked up English really fast. I was spending a couple of hours a day with him. I didn’t think he knew anything, but Preston kept pushing, telling me to use harsher tactics to get the intel they needed on his uncle. I refused and I refused to let them do it. Threatened to go up the chain if they triedit.”
She took a shuddering breath, as if preparing herself for what she was going to say next. He was afraid heknew.
“I got a Red Cross notification that Sarah was in the hospital.” Her voice broke and she sniffled into the pillow. She took another deep breath. “When I got back to the base, Ali and his mom weren’t there anymore. I asked and kept getting vague answers—they’d been released, they’d been transferred—no one could give me a straight answer. Finally, I confronted my roommate, who was an analyst. A few days after I left Iraq, there was a major coordinated attack on the camp. Lasted a couple of days. For some reason, Preston got it in his head that Ali knew about the attack and had information on it. He died during the interrogation. His mother committedsuicide.”
Jesus. He couldn’t even fathom it. His team had taken young males off objectives, but they’d never taken children. They sure as hell hadn’t ever interrogated a fuckingkid.
“I was so angry. About everything. Eddie. Sarah. Ali. I went after Preston with a crowbar. Cracked his jaw and broke his arm. I had my gun to his head when my OIC walked in. He talked me out of putting a bullet in his head. Told me he wasn’t worth my life. Preston was on a plane the next day. They came up with some story about a utility vehicle rolling over on him to explain his injuries. My boss gave me the information on the Combat Support Teams the nextday.”
She rubbed her face on the pillow. “The worst part was I blamed Sarah, of all people.” She scoffed. “How fucked up isthat?”
He rubbed his nose across her back and felt it was safe to ask, “Why did you blameSarah?”
“She was in the hospital because of Eddie. If she’d left him like we’d urged her to, I wouldn’t have had to go home and Ali would bealive.
He stroked her arm. “You don’t know that. A douche canoe like that guy would have found a way. He could have done it one night while you were sleeping or at the gym or anytime hewanted.”
She stayed quiet for several minutes. Had he said the wrong thing? Had she retreated back behind her walls? He continued to caress her arm andback.
“I know,” she said in a small voice. “But I didn’t talk to her for almost a year. She didn’t deserve that and I never said I wassorry.”
Her chest heaved with her fresh tears. He had nothing. No words of wisdom to help her work through her guilt or her pain, so he held her and tried to comfort her as best he could. Eventually, her tearssubsided.
“Will you tell me about her?” heasked.
“What do you want toknow?”
“You guys were reallyclose?”
“Yes. I wish we’d spent more time together when we were kids, but she was almost five years younger than I am. I was already in high school when she came to live with us. I thought it was cool, finally having a little sister, but we didn’t really have a lot incommon.”
“Why did she live withyou?”
She sighed. “Her step-father was physically abusingher.”
“Like…?” Christ, how much bad luck could one personhave?
“No. She wasn’t sexually abused. Just physically. How horrible is that, that I have to qualify abuse by ‘justphysically?’”
