Prologue
Dust flew in his eyes, but Lucas Fontenot pushed forward. Life—or death—hung in his hands. Which one remained to be seen. Necessary protective gear had long been lost in the heat of battle. He had only his grit to rely on. None of his training could have prepared him for this.
A blast sounded behind him. He couldn’t spare the time for a backward glance. “Calloway,” he yelled, praying the breeze would carry the call behind him.
“Keep going, Fontenot,” Sergeant Calloway called out. “I’m good.”
“We have to find shelter.” He didn’t know how much Calloway heard. For now, knowing he was alive and following had to be enough.
Deafening explosions continued as bullets whirred past him. He ducked at an incoming shot and pressed forward, only to be struck by another.
No time to slow down. He was vaguely cognizant of something warm oozing down his leg, but he wouldn’t dwell on that, or the increasing pain. He spotted an alley ahead that might offer protection from the ambush that separated him and Calloway from the rest of the unit.
Turning to the right, he slipped in the narrow way between two concrete buildings. He heard Calloway behind him, following closely. A silent prayer escaped his lips.
Ahead he spotted a small opening into one of the buildings. It could have been a trap, but it was a chance he’d have to take. He reached behind him, grabbed hold of Calloway’s arm. Partly to indicate he was going in, partly for support.
His legs were increasingly weak, his vision blurry. Confusion rattled his brain and clouded his judgement. He started sinking into the ground, then had the most peculiar sensation that he was floating. Visions of his mom, brothers, and sister filled his mind. Then he saw a line drawn on the sand, and on the other side stood his father. Dad frowned at him and pushed him away, told him it wasn’t yet time to reunite.
He drifted into consciousness, aware that Calloway had slid an arm under his and carried him deeper into the building. Broken glass scattered the dirt-covered floor, and the rooms were eerily void of furniture or decorations.
“Stay with me.” Calloway laid Lucas on the ground, glanced at his leg. “You’re shot and losing too much blood.”
“Flesh wound,” he whispered in a pained voice. “I’ll be fine.”
“In time, yes.” A dry chuckle slipped from Calloway. “No one will down Lucas Fontenot, but you’re not moving right now. I’m going to clear the building then tend to your leg. Do you have your radio?”
Lucas shook his head, a motion that sent his body spinning. “Lost. Ambush.”
Calloway sighed. “Figured so.”
His brother in arms walked away. A sea of black beckoned Lucas, and the invitation to escape the war and searing pain offered a welcome refuge. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t ready to die yet. Reaching into his pocket, he felt for the picture that stayed with him always.
He slipped it out, stared at it, tried to make out the image. Wooziness overcame him.
“Don’t give up.” Calloway had returned and smacked his cheek to keep him awake. He pulled out a knife, proceeded to cut the left leg from Lucas’s uniform.
The movement brought a fresh wave of pain. Lucas gritted his teeth and pinched the picture he held.
“Who’s the picture of,” Calloway asked, never glancing away from his work on the leg.
Lucas groaned as a tsunami of black crashed over him. “Someone I’ll see very soon.”
Chapter One
Three Years Later
Lucas stepped off the plane, made long strides across the hallway and descended the stairs to the small baggage claim. Coming home never got easier, but he’d promised to make an effort.
More than that, he wouldn’t miss Rex’s wedding. He chuckled and shook his head. Though Beau was the youngest brother, Lucas had always imagined him marrying first, not Rex. At least it wasn’t him. Marriage wasn’t in his future.
Familiar bitterness rose in his throat, but he forced it down with a swallow. This wasn’t a day to dwell on wrongs long past. This was a day to celebrate. Despite the tragic circumstances that brought Rex and Monica to this moment, Lucas couldn’t be happier for them.
He’d even forgive them for not telling him about the wedding today. To be fair, few people knew there would be a wedding after the big Thanksgiving meal this afternoon. He only knew because Mom asked him to pull any strings necessary to have his leave approved.
A dull whine sounded, and the conveyor belt began to circle with baggage scattered several feet apart. His drab olive pack came into view, and Lucas stepped forward to grab it. He tossed it over his shoulder and crossed the lobby to the rental car booth.
The female employee behind the counter took a deep breath and let it out. “Do you have a reservation?”
