The Military Wife (A Heart of a Hero, #1)(91)

The medic checked for a pulse and shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. He’s gone.”

Bennett didn’t need professional confirmation. He’d felt the final beats of Noah’s heart against his fingers. The man who’d been by his side from the first day of BUD/S training, for every deployment, his best friend. His only friend.

The mission continued around his personal tragedy. Two SEALs entered the room and began packing up the computer along with every single document or item of that might hold clues to the far-reaching tendrils of the man’s influence. The leader would be taken to the base and handed over to the big dogs for questioning.

Darren touched Bennett’s shoulder. “We need to load up.”

He was right. SEAL missions were quick and surgical. Bennett stood and heaved Noah into his arms, his right leg wobbling and giving out on him, sending him to one knee. He forced himself to rise again.

“Fuck, dude, your leg’s a mess.” Darren grabbed his arm. “I’ll take him.”

Bennett clutched Noah’s body closer. “No. Just lead me out of here. I’ll be fine.”

He felt no pain, which meant either the wound was superficial or the adrenaline was masking the severity. It didn’t fucking matter. He was alive, and Noah was dead. The universe was all mixed up.

He stepped into the hallway. The woman who’d killed Noah lay in a heap on the floor. No regret for killing the woman surfaced. Would it all prove to be worth it? Would the information they’d recovered prove valuable? Would it save lives?

It didn’t matter. Burgeoning grief rolled through him like the leading edge of a storm. He made it down the stairs and into the dusty street. Chopper blades sliced through the air and made his heart thump. Each beat mocked him. He should have died, not Noah.

He rounded the corners of the buildings, giving him a straight shot to the choppers. The black machines blurred and the noises around him grew muffled. He blinked to clear the dust and debris flying around them. Black crept from his peripheral vision until he felt like he was looking out the wrong end of a pair of binoculars. His vision snuffed like a candle.



* * *



He came to on a bed. The smell was antiseptic and bleach. Bright lights made it difficult to focus. IV lines were taped down to both arms. His nose hurt and he swiped at it, pulling away an oxygen tube.

A man-sized lump was under white sheets in the bed to his right. Blond hair peeked out at the pillow. Noah. His memories were fuzzy. Had Noah made it after all?

He forced himself to sitting. Pain shot through his leg and left hip. He groaned and pushed through the pain like he’d been trained to do. He reached over and grabbed the edge of the sheet.

“Noah.” His voice rasped, his throat desert dry.

The man in the bed flipped to his back and looked over at Bennett. Half his face was covered in gauze, but the raw skin of a burn edged the white, his lips a macabre scarred slash.

Bennett fell back onto his pillow. “Sorry, man, thought you were someone else.”

“I wish I were.” The words came out as if his lungs, too, had been charred from the inside. The man turned back over and huddled into himself.

How long had Bennett been laid up? Where was Noah? He sat back up, this time prepared for the pain, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His left leg was stiff and bandaged from upper thigh to below his knee. More bandages were taped to his hip. Would his body support him? It would have to.

He had to … What? He hesitated, his mind as muddy as a Mississippi marsh. What was he doing? Noah was beyond saving.

An alarm beeped on one of the machines at his head. A nurse bustled in, her mouth set in a disapproving line.

“Back in bed, Caldwell.” Her voice was brisk, but her hands were gentle as she eased him back in the bed and reattached the O2 sensor on his finger. When she tried to put the tube back into his nose, he grabbed her wrist. A staring contest commenced. She huffed and set the tube aside.

“You SEALs are extraordinarily stubborn.” She took up a clipboard and made notes, pressing buttons on the monitor. “Are you thirsty?”

He was parched. “How long have I been out? Where have they taken Noah?”

He half-expected her to plead ignorance. And maybe a regular nurse would have, but this was a Navy nurse. As she held out a bottle of water with a bendy straw for him, she said, “You’ve been out nearly twenty-four hours. Your fellow SEAL’s body left on a transport to Germany.”

Noah was gone. A gaping black hole in his chest sucked away any hope. The future stretched as bleak and barren as the land around them.

“He was my friend.”

The lines around her mouth smoothed. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

Loss and regret and guilt battered him. His mind flitted to a woman he’d never met. Had Harper been told? What would she say if she knew Noah shouldn’t have died? It should have been him.

“When I can get back to my team?”

“You took two bullets to your leg, Caldwell.”

Bennett closed his eyes, but light danced stars behind his eyelids.

“And another bullet creased your hip.”

His heartbeat was a little fast but strong.

The nurse checked the bandage on his hip. The tug of the gauze on the wound was an irritant he wanted to swat away.

“You lost a lot of blood and will need physical therapy. They’re sending you stateside.”