Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) (32 page)

“
Oh my gosh
.”

“Yeah.
No shit, huh? Turned into a firefight fast; bastards coming out of the mountainside like ants from an anthill. I’ll save you most of the gory details; suffice it to say Jay ended up taking a bullet to the face. Tore out a chunk of his jaw, and would have most likely left him blind in one eye had he come home.

“Tough bastard kept right on fighting.

“As for me: I don’t remember much. RPG went off a couple meters away and it was all lights out.”

Matthew
paused to take another drag on his beer. His voice had been strong enough during the retail up to this point . . . but, when Allie watched him drain his beer, his hands were trembling all over the shiny, silver aluminum.

“
Jay and I had been dragged off by the enemy, and now we were going to be interrogated—and these dudes could care less what some Geneva Convention told them. But it was all good. We’d been trained to handle that shit.

“Waking up from the initial engagement was the hard part. We’d been stuffed inside a little metal box. Hot as hell during the day, cold as
shit at night. We were both buck-ass naked, so there wasn’t much to do but huddle up against each other at night to keep warm. I don’t know how much time had passed since all hell had broken loose on that slab of rock on the Hindu Kush; could have been a century for all I knew. We were kept in a goddamn fog.” Another pause for beer. “One thing those bastards knew was how to drug your ass up.

“There was this one
asswipe who we’d actually interrogated before. We all knew the piece of shit was dirty, but because of new policy from the higher ups, we ended up having to let him go. So, there I was, staring up at this ugly fuck—who should never have seen the light of day again—in nothing but my birthday suit while he took a tire iron to my legs and arms.”

Matthew
paused again to look at Allie. Probably because she’d just sucked down a huge lungful of air. She was trying to play it cool during the story, but the way he talked about this all was maybe harder to take than the actual content. He’d kept his eyes on his beer the whole time, far from Allie, his voice holding a chilly detachment that kept the walls up between his words and his emotions. It was like he was trying to stay as far from the memories as he could.

“You alright?”
Haunted eyes briefly settled on her. “I mean, I don’t want to freak you out or anything.”

Fighting the urge to wrap herself around him, she nodded. “
Matthew, this is a part of you. Something I need to understand if we’re going to be together.” Allie’s eyes dropped to her lap and she rubbed away the crop of goose bumps that had risen over her arms. “Go on. Let me hear. All of it, anything you feel you need to tell me.”

His brow’s pinched together. His chest rose and then fell as he took a bre
ath and nodded. “Okay.”

“Did the jihadi recognize you?”

Matthew shook his head. “Naw. We don’t kiss and tell, if you know what I mean. That guy never saw our faces.

“When the fun and games were over, I . . . we,” he amended, “we were dragged in front of the cameras.
Jay and I were both a bloody mess, and we both knew we were going to die, even through the haze of drugs. As we sat there, back-to-back, I wasn’t scared. I knew that I would most likely give my life when I’d signed up for this shit. The realities of war are always right there on your heels, no matter how much you train, or how good you are at your job.” He shook his head. “Think I’m getting off topic.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck.

It was hard to watch
Matthew struggle to get the words out. Like he just couldn’t get them to fall off his tongue. Allie wondered, therapist or no, if Matthew had ever talked to anyone. Unable to help herself, and unable to stand the pain in his face anymore, she reached out and took his hand. Matthew jerked at her touch, but then blinked, and squeezed it back before she could pull away.

“So, we were sitting there—leaning against each other to stay upright, actually—and the lead asshole popped down next to us, going through the
same bullshit speech that you hear in movies: how Americans are evil and infidels,
blah, blah, blah
. . . the whole time all I could think was of how sorry-as-shit I was Jay was sitting there with me. At the end. Jay was all up and rising, probably would have been an awesome commander. The higher ups loved him, too. He was good like that, good with the brothers, good with all the paperwork bullshit that goes with the job. He should have”— Matthew paused to clear his throat. “Sorry,” he looked away to hide his embarrassment as he swiped at his eyes. “I . . . uh. Sorry.”

A few seconds passed before
Matthew could continue. “They took Jay when their little speech was done and sat him, front and center, for all the cameras. Then they pulled out a big ass dagger. The hilt was worn down, the leather fraying where your grip would wrap around it. It was kept sharp, but wasn’t cleaned all that often, since you could see the crust of black, dried blood gumming up along the hilt.”

Matthew
’s eyes met Allie’s. “I can’t get that fucking blade out of my head.” He swallowed.

“
Jay was in bad shape, what with the side of his face looking like putrid hamburger from days before. It was all green and inflamed, dirty and rimed with black. But he has always had this great hair, more blonde than my red, and these pretty-boy highlights that you’d only expect to see in Cali. Our bros used to give him so much shit over it. About how he’d gone all beach-bum and tie-dye spy for the west-coast teams. I could have fuckin’ screamed when they grabbed a handful of that perfect hair and set about sawing off Jay’s head.”

“
Oh, god, Matthew
.” Bile rose to Allie’s throat and she choked out on a sob. “I’m . . . oh, god. Oh, Matthew.”

Matthew
’s voice was hoarse. “That’s what I hear at night when I finally fall to sleep. I hear Jay screaming. I smell his blood, see his boots flopping over the dirt-packed ground. His murder was slow. So slow. Seemed like I had to sit there and listen to him for hours, until blood filled his throat and flooded his cries. It was a race to find out whether he’d bleed out before he’d drown. Those assholes had perfected decapitation. Knew how to drag it out.”

Matthew
’s hands were clenching over the smooth girth of his can, the knuckles standing out white. “It should have been me.
I
should have been the one they did that to. I had only myself to worry about. I’d been a self-centered asshole my whole life. My brother had everything to lose. A wife; who didn’t get to see him enough and who still managed to put up with his shit. And his boys.” Matthew’s voice stumbled over a dry sob. “They’d tried for so long to get pregnant and Stacy was so tiny. It’d been hard. They’d ended up taking fertility pills and gotten twins out of it. Damn, he’d been the proud papa. And then for him to be taken away from them. . . He’ll never play ball with those boys. Never coach t-ball. Never give them
the talk
. Jay just had so much he was supposed to live for.” A lone tear trailed down over his five-o’clock shadow and got lost in his peeking whiskers.

Broke
Allie’s heart in two.

“Anyway,”
Matthew struggled on like he couldn’t wait to get the horror story out of the way. “He died right there, by that
fucking
savage’s hand. Then the bastard just
fucking
tossed his head into a corner like it was a
fucking
basketball. When I heard the thump it made, I just lost it; lost my stomach—which didn’t have a lot in it to start with—all over the ground.

“Right after that, all hell broke loose. There was a splat to the side and the dude with the dagger’s head blew up all over the
dirty white wall behind him.

Matthew
met Allie’s gaze again and his face was full of agony. “Our boys had found us.

“And it had been seconds too late for
Jay.

“My jihadi buddy went nuts.
Got this crazy, bug-fuck look in his eye that you only see in true fanatics.
Wild
. He knew he was good as dead, and the fucker wanted to take me with him. He grabbed the dagger that was still in the headless insurgent’s hand and slit my throat. I was spraying blood all over the place; it steaming all over the crazy bastard’s face and chest. I wasn’t going down without a fight, though. Somehow I was able to pull through the drug haze and, though my hands were tied behind my back, my arms broken, and useless, I fell forward and grabbed the dagger, used it to cut my restraints, and wrapped my hands around that fucker’s throat. Didn’t stop squeezing till the light went out of his eyes.”

Matthew
licked his lips. “There’s a look people get when you’re in a fight. When they realize they’re going to lose. This look that says they know their done. It’s not something I can describe; it’s something you can only experience when you kill someone up close and personal. That look was there for him, coupled with his fanatical hatred. A hatred I’ve only seen in terrorists’ faces. Just as he was slumping to the floor, the soft sound of a gunshot whizzed by my ear and his head was thrown sideways, the side of his face blowing out all over the dirt. There was some more
pop, pop, pops
! of gunfire as the rest of the insurgents were dealt with, and then it was silent, except for boots scuffling over the ground and my team’s even breathing as they filed into the little hut we were in.”

“I’m so sorry,
Matthew.” Allie’s voice was hoarse with anguish. She could hardly see him now through the wash of tears that were freely running down her face. What had he lived through? How could anyone survive among so much . . . horror? It was no wonder he was such a mess.

Matthew
glanced up at her and swallowed hard. His lips flattened tightly to keep from trembling and he continued, “Anyway . . . Glover, our Medic got to me a few seconds later and somehow managed to keep me in one piece. The main arteries weren’t even touched by some miracle, which is the only reason I’m here today. The cut was deep, though. Had a hard time talking above a whisper for a long while.”

Shaking hands scoured over his face. “There isn’t a day goes by I don’t ask why
Jay had to go and not me.” His face crumbled as he looked up at Allie. “Why didn’t they drag me over there? Why’d they have to pick Jay to go first?”

“They just did,
Matthew. Nothing you can do about that.” Allie squeezed his hand a little tighter, grateful that he
had
survived. Though Jayce was dead, at least one of them was here. Allie would call it a blessing, though she knew Matthew would be furious at her for thinking that way. From what Allie had seen; Matthew had done his level best to watch out for Stacy since Jay had died. And not just because he had some heavy survivor’s guilt. Matthew was a good, honest, decent man.

“I didn’t go to
Jay’s funeral. I couldn’t.” Matthew ran his hand over his forehead. “Couldn’t look my mom and dad in the eye and chance letting them know an inkling of the hell he’d been through before he’d been killed.

“
And I still can’t stand to see them. Jay was the good son. The one with his shit together. I was always the screw up. Maybe it’s cowardly, but I can’t stand to let them see me. I can’t let them look at me and be a reminder of what they’ve lost.”

“But,
Matthew.” Allie leaned into him and let the back of her knuckles stroke over his jaw. “Don’t you see that by doing that they’ve lost two sons then?” Oh, how his parents hearts must be broken.

“I . . . I can’t talk about my parents, okay? It’s just . . . too hard.”

“Okay.”
Don’t push too hard, Allie.

Matthew
stood up. “I wanna show you something, okay?”

Allie
stood and followed him into an upstairs guest room. Inside the closet there was a huge, green duffel bag. Matthew unzipped it and pulled out a stack of pictures. “This is Jay.” He handed her a glossy photograph. Matthew—she thought it was Matthew—stood side-by-side with a man who was just a little taller and a little leaner than him.

Jayce
.

Jay
’s hair was honey blonde, long for a military man, and pulled away from his face at the base of his neck. It wasn’t nappy like a lot of guys with long hair seemed to keep it. It was shiny, highlighted with pale, yellow streaks of sunshine that melted into brownish bronze where it was pulled together at the base of his neck. Jayce was leaning on his brother, an affectionate arm draped over Matthew’s shoulder, both of them giving the camera the finger. Brown eyes were lit with humor, his mouth curved up and carefree. There was no doubt, under normal circumstances, that Jay could be mistaken for a California beach bum. He rocked the whole ultra laid-back vibe.

The picture must have been taken on a military base somewhere. Scrubby olive
trees sporadically pierced the desert landscape around the random assemblage of towers, tents, and tanks. Jay was holding a helmet on his hip, some kind of scary looking gun hanging off his shoulder. Both brothers were wearing full desert camo fatigues. Both sported holsters strapped to their legs and black, fingerless shooting gloves stretched over their hands. Jay was clean-shaven, though, where Matthew was not. A full crop of bright red whiskers framed Matthew’s jaw and lips.