Whispers in the Dark (KGI #4)(18)

I knew you’d do it.

Her confidence imbued him with the strength to walk out from behind the tree. He staggered from cover just as Swanson started out as well. The two men helped each other as they went to meet the approaching soldiers.

As they drew closer, Nathan’s pulse ratcheted up and tears blurred his vision. Donovan? Sam? Ethan? Garrett? Holy shit. It was KGI, not the army.

“It’s my brothers,” Nathan croaked.

“I don’t give a f**k if they’re your sisters,” Swanson said as he hoisted Nathan’s sagging body. “I’ll kiss them just the same.”

Adrenaline left him. Even Shea’s unwavering support couldn’t hold him up any longer. Nathan sagged, going down to his knees.

It was like a breaking dam. Pain flooded him. Fire burned through his limbs, his muscles, even his veins.

He realized that Shea’s strength was gone. She could no longer shield him. She’d shielded him far too long already.

He glanced up to see horror written on his brothers’ faces as they ran toward him. Then he looked down, realizing what they saw. He was gaunt, completely naked, and blood ran in rivulets down his body from all the cuts. It streamed down his leg where he’d taken a bullet.

He looked like he’d been to hell and back. He could feel the fires of hell licking up his body until he was consumed in agony.

He pitched forward, bracing his palms against the cold earth as his brothers surrounded him.

You’re safe now, Nathan.

Shea’s weak voice reached him just as he sensed her withdrawal. Only it felt final this time. Not like the others when she’d always promised to come back.

Please, please don’t tell anyone about me. Please keep my secret safe. My safety depends on it.

And then she was gone, leaving a giant, yawning hole in the pit of his soul. His fingers curled into the dirt. “No! Don’t leave! Goddamn it, don’t leave!”

“Nathan, my God. It’s me, Donovan. You’re okay now, man. We’re here. We’re not going to leave you. We’re going to take you home.”

As his brothers tried to roll him over, Nathan went ballistic. Here, when he was surrounded by his brothers, he’d never felt so alone in his life.

“Don’t go! Oh God, don’t go. Please don’t leave me,” he whispered brokenly.

Garrett palmed Nathan’s face with both hands and lowered his face until they were mere inches apart. “Nathan, we’re here. We’re taking you home. Everything’s okay now. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“Swanny. Take care of Swanny,” he managed to gasp out.

“I’ve got him,” Ethan said. “Don’t worry. We’ve got him.”

Tears streamed down Nathan’s cheeks as he stared up at the sky, so brilliantly blue. It ought to be red for all the bloodshed and yet it was pristine and soft.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me, Shea.”

The words broke painfully from his raw throat. He hadn’t realized he’d been screaming just a moment ago. He closed his eyes as pain engulfed him.

“Who the f**k is Shea?” Sam demanded.

“Mine,” Nathan murmured. “Mine.”

Donovan knelt to wrap Nathan’s leg to stop the bleeding. He didn’t even flinch. There was simply too much pain, too much loss.

Shea. Don’t go.

He caught a vague image of her curled into a tight ball, suffering alone. It was more than he could bear. And then his mind went blank. No Shea. It was as if she’d never existed.

“Get that f**king helo here!” Garrett yelled.

“Down! Down!” Sam hollered.

None of what they said made sense but suddenly Nathan found himself covered. Donovan pressed him to the ground.

“They’re American!” Ethan hollered. “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!”

Donovan pushed himself off Nathan and then stared down at his brother. “Looks like Uncle Sam decided to come along after all.”

Nathan turned his head, squinting into the sun. The valley was swarming with soldiers. It was too much to take in. He’d been on the verge of giving up all hope of ever returning home.

Thanks to a faceless woman with the voice of an angel and the strength of a warrior, he’d survived.

CHAPTER 9

SIX MONTHS LATER

KELLY COMPOUND, STEWART COUNTY, TENNESSEE

NATHAN hammered a nail into the two-by-four and then leaned back and wiped the sweat from his forehead. His hands shook and it pissed him off. He was still weak. Not fully himself. But then it was doubtful he’d ever be one hundred percent again.

He’d gained some of the weight back, but he was still whipcord lean and a good twenty pounds lighter than his normal size.

His house was framed. It could already be built by now, but he’d shunned a contractor. He couldn’t explain his drive to build the house himself, but it had become all-important for him to drive every nail, to create the refuge exactly as he envisioned it.

These days, it was all that kept him sane.

The mere idea of small, closed-in spaces made him break out in a cold sweat.

Weeks in a hospital had in some way been as hellish as his captivity. He’d felt helpless and he fought a daily battle over whether or not he’d imagined Shea. And worrying about her if she did in fact exist.