Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

It hadn’t. Not even a little. The Army’s investigators hadn’t believed him. “Everyone cracks under torture,” they’d said so many times he’d heard it in his sleep.

So, what the fuck had been the point of all that miserable training?

Then there was Deke’s death. All he’d had to do was betray his country to save his friend’s life. A country that didn’t believe him.

Talk about a kick in the nuts.

After he’d left the debriefing room, he’d vowed never to speak of his captivity again.

And here he was about to vomit that experience all over Deke’s sister. The one he’d fucked and wanted to fuck again more than he wanted to keep this horrifying story in his head. But he knew he couldn’t touch her again until he’d purged the poison inside him.

She had the right to slap him and run back to Chicago.

“Scott?” she barked, pulling him away from the coarse desert sand to the humidity and soft white sand of the Florida beach.

He swallowed the burning acid rising from his gut and then forced himself to face her. She hadn’t moved, still sitting close enough to touch but no longer did. Where he’d expected to find hard, appalled eyes, he saw nothing but compassion and confusion.

That would change soon.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, her voice steady and with that slightly bitchy tone he hadn’t heard from her in a few days.

He grunted out a laugh that had nothing to do with humor. “What were you told about how Deke died?”

“He’d listed me as the point of contact for the Army since our father wanted nothing to do with him, and his mother isn’t alive. I spoke directly with the officer and chaplain who came to inform us. They said he was taken hostage and killed by enemy combatants in Afghanistan. Details beyond that weren’t discussed. Are you saying that’s not the truth?”

“It is,” he said. “But it’s a dumbed-down and G-rated version of what happened.” It took everything he had to keep his eyes open and stay in the moment instead of being dragged back to the hell that had been their captivity. His heart tried to pound but felt so heavy it could barely beat inside his tight chest. Air wouldn’t flow, getting trapped in his lungs and causing a harsh choking sound.

“Hey.” Olivia shifted to her knees. She cupped his face between her soft hands and held his head where she wanted, giving him no choice but to keep eye contact.

The gentle touch opened a pressure valve in his chest, allowing him to breathe easier.

“I’d say you don’t have to tell me anything, but I think you do, Scott. I think you need to get this poison out of your system so you can start to find some peace. So take as much time as you need. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You will.”

“I won’t.” The bitchy tone was back in full swing, and he actually smiled. Releasing his face, she settled on his lap sideways. She kissed his cheek, then his lips, then his chin before resting her head on his shoulder like she somehow knew he couldn’t look her in the eye while he told the story. “Ready when you are. We can sit here all night if it helps you.”

They could wait a lifetime. He’d never be ready. “We were captured together and held for a week, me and Deke. Seven days. I can’t tell you anything about who they were, but it doesn’t matter. They split us up immediately. I was kept—” He shuddered as the heat rushed back, making him sweat as though he were there.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She stroked up and down his arms. “You’re here. With me. In Florida. All of that is long over.”

Long over, perhaps, but still alive and living rent-free in his head. Her softly spoken words, gentle touch, and weight on his lap helped keep him from slipping into a debilitating flashback.

“I was kept in a box. Small enough I had to curl up. They left me there about twelve hours at a time. In the hot sun. It got over a hundred and ten degrees in the daytime and fucking cold at night.”

Her breath caught, and she swallowed as her eyes watered. “Jesus,” she whispered.

He nodded. “They decided to try to break us in different ways. Every twelve hours, I was dragged from the box, given one glass of filthy water and a few bites to eat, then brought to the room where they kept Deke. Fuck.” His stomach lurched. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. “Trying not to puke.”

She remained quiet, lending support through her touch and steady presence. How the fuck had he ever thought this woman was a princess? She was proving to be as strong as any of the Rangers he’d served with. Deke would be fucking proud and probably damn surprised.