I know he’s been hiding something. Is he too sick to work?Thoughts ran through her mind.
“When you came into my office yesterday, the stress of the day triggered a memory of the first time I met Beth Bailey in Iowa. She was Beth Reed then.” Troy paused. “She told me she was going to save me the night my cover was blown. She and Pat Hedges almost weren’t able to. And there were times I wished they hadn’t. I spent a lot of time when I first regained consciousness contemplating ending my life.”
Gwen’s shoulders tightened.I know how you felt.Her palm rested on his knee. “Troy.”
“Good medical staff and trusted friends found me help, and I took it. They also never left me alone. A lot of the security assigned to me in the beginning was to make sure I didn’t hurt myself. I’m no longer suicidal. Therapy and, in the beginning, medication helped.
“My injuries were what the medical people considered catastrophic. Combined, I am receiving physical therapy, occupational therapy, and psychological therapy. Word of that getting out without context won’t give people the greatest confidence in my leadership.” He closed and opened his eyes.
“You know what you tell me will stay confidential.” Gwen’s heart was beating in her ears.
“The entire senior staff, and Ian and Kieran, along with the medical directors, believe I can do my job. If I thought I couldn’t, I’d retire. My colleagues have done their best to preserve my privacy and dignity. You now belong to that trusted club.”
Troy chewed his lip. “Last night, I met with Doc Sommerfeld and with Jack Parker. Jack is taking an aggressive approach. Case in point, the trigger point injections. He thinks he can take down my level of pain and reduce my medication dependence.”
“That’s terrific. Can they inject more spots?” she hoped.
“Yeah. A couple at a time.” Troy looked out at the waves cresting the beach.
“Did something happen?” she asked.
“Not here,” he answered, returning his gaze to her. When he reached out and caressed her cheek, Gwen leaned into his palm. “You spent a lot of time helping me through the physical injuries, from holding vomit basins to bringing me ice pops for my jaw pain, to being a cheerleader when I couldn’t do another repetition, to leading me on a horse to regain my balance, to walking beside me in the pool so I wouldn’t drown, and holding my hand when I panicked.
“Part of last night’s visit was to evaluate all my muscle groups.” He froze.
“Tell me. Nothing you say will scare me or make me feel differently about you,” Gwen insisted.
“I apologize about yesterday; I was anxious and embarrassed. You know I’m having a colostomy reversal. They had to evaluate my sphincter strength.” A visible tremor ran through him.
“Where are you?” she asked the question the Virginia therapy staff taught her to help him work through anxiety.
“I’m with you at the beach.” His eyes turned glassy. “It’s so hard to tell you.” Sweat broke out on his forehead.
“It makes sense; you haven’t used those muscles in a while.” She watched him. “It’s the same old me. Look at me.” She moved and sat cross-legged in front of him, her hands taking his. “Troy?”
“In Iowa, the op went sideways. Our targets were using prisoners and small children they bought from addicts to film violent pornography; in addition, they were moving large quantities of drugs. We knew the operation was centered in the Silverton jail. Every previous undercover operator sent in ended up killed.” He pulled a hand free and fiddled with his watch.
“In mission planning, it was clear there was an information leak. I went in as a real prisoner. Real charges. No easy exfil. My cover as Royce Mills was designed to be enticing to the ring. Using the little information the previous undercovers got out, the plan was for me to work my way up the ladder to find the pornographers. I started by making small drug purchases, then it increased to working as a drug mule.”
He swallowed hard. “If I didn’t cooperate, drugs were planted on me, or inside me. I was strip-searched, beaten and left in isolation. I managed to figure out and provide supporting evidence the ring also involved the medical staff from Horizon hospital patching up prisoners after a bad beating or a sexual assault.” Troy shook his head. “If they were too ill or threatened to say something, they murdered the prisoners.”
Gwen began to realize where this was going. Remy, her team leader, had made a comment about something more happening—now it made sense.
“I’m not sure if you know, but Tango Team was brought in. At the time, we were told Bravo Team was working an op. No further details.” She squeezed his hand.
He nodded and squirmed. “I was finally asked to perform in one of their rape films. If I didn’t perform, the woman, another prisoner, would be killed, and I would be compelled to fight someone to the death. Without immediate backup, my only choice was to cooperate to pass on the evidence. Viagra was forced down my throat. Four separate occasions and four female prisoners. None said no, but it never felt consensual for me. I tried not to hurt them. My consolation was being able to pass on vital information, and they lived.
“Last August, August thirteenth, my cover was blown. I was dragged from my cell to where I’d shot their movies. Five men… chained me to a pipe… stripped me… beat me with flashlights, a pipe, their fists, and feet. They broke my back, my femur, my knee, my wrists, my jaw, my eye sockets. The beating caused my brain to swell, bruised my heart and lacerated all my internal organs, including destroying pieces of my intestines.” He closed his eyes.
Her heart was breaking. She let go of his hand and took his face between her hands. “You’re safe with me. You can tell me.”
He opened his eyes. “They took their time sexually assaulting me. When I refused to submit and tell them I wanted it, and when their hands, mouth and body parts weren't enough, and their anger grew, they tore me apart with a flashlight and the pipe.” He gulped for air. “It stopped when a lockdown alarm went off. They dropped me to the ground, redressed me, and as a parting gesture, one of them stomped my chest, shattering every rib.” He swiped the sweat dripping off his face.
She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. “You survived. There is nothing to be ashamed about. You told me today, and I am telling you, this wasn’t your fault. Catch your breath.” Her green eyes glittered in the darkness.
“Gwen, the injuries… I am not a functional man. My body can’t do right by a woman. I’m impotent. It can’t do right by me.” Troy’s breath caught. “My medical team keeps reminding me I need to focus on me. I need to be selfish and…” He brought his hand to his mouth and gulped.
“Look at me. What are you asking?” She resisted the urge to scream from the top of her lungs. Her toes curled in her shoes, wanting to kick the hell out of the people who hurt him. She wanted to cry with him, share his self-loathing and embarrassment. And she wanted to take it all away.
