Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

She let loose a pain-filled cry that chilled him to the bone. That’s when he knew he had to wake her—regardless of whether she came out swinging.

He leaned in, placing one hand on her forehead while at the same time clasping her left hand in his other hand. “Liberty. It’s me, Devin. You need to wake up.”

She thrashed and violently moved her head back and forth, trying to shake off his hand, moaning, “No, no, no.”

As his eyes moved over her, he noticed her face was damp—from sweat or tears? His gaze moved lower, and he saw her bottom lip was swollen and bloody from where her teeth had dug into the tender flesh.

Jesus. What images had her sleeping mind conjured to elicit this reaction? He squeezed her hand and tried again. “Liberty. Wake up. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Her body went scarily still. Then she turned her head and her eyes opened.

His stomach pitched at the look of horror in those silvery depths. “Hey.” He smoothed her hair back from her clammy forehead.

Liberty blinked, and panic crossed her face. “Devin? What’re you . . . ?” She struggled to sit up. “What happened?”

“Nothin’ happened. Besides you havin’ a nightmare. I heard you and came to see if you were all right.” He tucked a hank of hair behind her ear. “No need to get up.”

“Move.” She dodged his touch and swung her legs—her shapely bare legs over the edge of the bunk.

That’s when Devin noticed she slept in a pair of very short running shorts and a baggy US Army Rangers T-shirt. Before he could lighten the mood, since she was clearly agitated, she snapped, “I’m fine.”

“Liberty—”

“I said I was fine.” She stared at her feet. “Go back to bed.”

Devin stood and headed toward the kitchen. After snagging a bottle of water, he returned to her, twisted off the plastic cap and handed it to her. “Here.”

“Don’t treat me like a child. Just . . . leave me alone.”

“Like hell.” He wrapped his hand around her jaw and tipped her head back, but the stubborn damn woman kept her eyes closed. Frustrated, he grabbed her hand and curled her fingers around the bottle. “Drink it.”

She shook so hard she spilled water all over her legs and her shirt. She took two sips—he had no idea how she managed to swallow anything through her clenched jaw.

Goddammit, the woman was hanging on by a thread. He snagged the bottle from her shaking hand and screwed on the cap. Threading his fingers through hers, he pulled her to her feet. “Enough. You’re comin’ with me.” He towed her down the hallway.

“Devin—”

“Don’t argue.”

“But—”

“Shut. Up.” He stopped at the end of his bed and kicked the door shut. “Crawl in.”

Liberty didn’t move.

“Fine. Want to do it my way? Where I pick you up and throw you into my bed?”

She shook her head and crawled to the far side of the mattress.

Devin moved in behind her, dragging her body against his with his chest pressed to her back. Then he yanked the covers over them.

She gave a token protest until Devin said, “Suck it up. I’m not letting you go until you stop shaking.” He nuzzled the back of her head. “Relax. I’ve got you now.”

If anything, that caused her to tremble harder.

Devin just held on. He didn’t say a word. Not even when he felt her silent tears trickling down her face and dripping onto the sheet. Not even when the trembling abated, but she wiggled, trying to get free.

After a while, she settled. He had no idea how long they remained like that, body to body, each wrapped in unspoken thoughts.

Liberty didn’t pull away even after she expelled a long, loud sigh. “I’m sorry I lost my shit.”

“No worries. You wanna talk about it?”

She stayed quiet so long he figured that meant no.

But then she sighed again. “I hate when this happens.”

“Does it happen often?”

“Guess it depends on your definition of often. I haven’t had one of these in months.”

“These . . . meaning what?”

Another bout of tense silence. Then she said softly, “A flashback. It’s not fair to call it a combat nightmare, because I didn’t end up in the combat situations my fellow male soldiers did. I can’t imagine what those guys are going through.”

“What was the flashback?”

“We were in the second wave of soldiers that were sent over there. I was young and cocky. Hell, we were all cocky. Gonna kick some Middle Eastern ass. We were trained, but goddamn were we unprepared.” Her breath became labored, and she fought to even it out again. “Within three months of our yearlong stint, we’d lost four key people out of our company. One was Maria. My roommate. We were inside the fence. She headed to the mess hall about two minutes before I did. A sniper took her out. One second she was ready to eat another shitty meal and the next, she was dead. Afterward I kept asking myself what was so damn important that I hadn’t been walking with her. Maybe I could’ve . . . saved her.”

Devin kept his mouth shut, not pointing out that if she’d been with her friend maybe she’d be dead too.

“So I get to relive that moment over and over. Sometimes exactly as it happened and sometimes the parameters change, but it always ends up the same—with me covered in Maria’s blood.”