War Wounded (The War Trilogy #2.5) (13 page)

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War Wounded
by Andria Large!

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About the Author

Andria is married and a stay at home mother with two crazy little girls and two psychotic cats. She doesn’t go anywhere without her precious iPhone and a purse full of animal crackers. She used to be completely obsessed with the Backstreet Boys, but now is only mildly obsessed (still goes to every concert when they are in town). She loves cartoons and Disney movies, and can probably recite every line from Dumb and Dumber. Humor is a must in her life; otherwise, it would be completely boring. Pepsi is her weakness, along with anything chocolate. She can’t sing to save her life, but she pretends she can when she is alone in her car with the music blasting so that she can’t hear herself.

She loves to read Romance. Paranormal, Scottish, Military, Police, Firefighters, Athletes, Cowboys and M/M are her favorite. She is not so much a fan of YA, though. If you haven’t been able to tell from reading her books, she likes - whether she is reading them or writing them - lots of hot steamy sex.

Andria loves her fans and is always willing to chat. She works hard on her books, does not get offended easily, and has a pretty thick skin when it comes to negativity toward her work. She welcomes constructive criticism because she feels that is how one betters themselves, by taking that constructive criticism and using it
.

Start from the beginning with:

At war

The rescue mission takes almost the entire day to plan. I don't have the official go ahead to do it and the guys who are helping me volunteer to do so, knowing damn well how risky it is. They are my closest friends – my brothers - so I'm not surprised that they offer to help. Lucky for me, my friends are a bunch of badass motherfuckers who are all adrenaline junkies that love to shoot people.

I beg to whatever God who can hear me that Zara, my wife, is still alive. She was taken yesterday from one of the roughest parts of this horrid town of Idontgiveafuck, Iraq. She was trying to dig up information for a report that she was putting together for the news station she worked for back in London. Stupid. What she did was just plain stupid. I told her not to go snooping around there. That the people won't like her being there, but she didn't listen.

As darkness falls, my men and I suit up with only the essentials. If everything goes to plan then we should be in and out in half an hour. Luckily, it was fairly easy figuring out where they are keeping her. We have some great Intel resources, plus the town is small and there are only so many buildings that they can hide in. The biggest problem is - and the reason I can't just rush in there and get her - they are heavily armed. There is no way that I could go in there without backup and expect to get her and myself out alive.

We move out on my command. Six of us climb into the unofficially borrowed Humvee. We were able to get an idea of the setup of the place and how many guys we will be up against through thermal scans of the area. We figured that we're going to be up against eight to ten guys, which six of us can easily handle if we're smart. This is a shoot first, fuck questions, kind of mission.

We park the Humvee about a block away to avoid alerting anyone in the dwelling where Zara is. We check our weapons and I order Velazquez to stay behind the driver's seat because we will most likely have to make a quick departure. The rest of us exit the vehicle and start for our target.

The five of us come up on the building where Zara is and using hand signals, I send two men around to the back in case anyone tries to flee. They have orders to kill anyone who tries to run. I refuse to let any of these fuckers survive. They took the wrong man's wife. Fury and rage turn me into the seasoned killer that I know I am. No mercy will be given here tonight, only pain and suffering for the men who ripped the one shining light out of my life.

Hold on baby, I'm coming.

I signal Fuller to kick open the door. As soon as he does it, we start clearing the building room by room. Looking down the sights of my rifle, I make my way through the first room we enter. It seems to be a living room type area. Movement catches my eye from the doorway leading to what we believe to be the hallway that will lead to the room where Zara is being held. Finger on the trigger, I let a couple of rounds go, hitting my target in the chest. The noise from the weapon is sure to rouse more inside and outside of the place. We need to move quickly.

Stepping over the man I shot, Fuller, Turner, and I make our way down the hallway. I silently direct Fuller to take the room on the right and Turner to take the room on the left. I'm heading to the last room at the end of the hallway.

I hear shots fired behind me from both of my men. Knowing that they are more than capable of handling themselves, I continue down the hall. The last door opens just as I stop in front of it. A man hastily emerges. He stops short inches in front of the barrel of my gun. When he sees me, a shocked "Oh shit" expression covers his face. I hear something metal clamor on the ground at our feet. I risk a glance. I really shouldn't have. I really really shouldn't have. It's a large serrated knife with fresh blood all over it. My wife's blood no doubt.

I swear I hear the snap inside of my head. I squat down while keeping my gun trained on the fucker in front of me as I pick up the still warm bloody knife. Everything inside of me dies in this moment right now. She's dead. I know it with every fiber of my being. This man just killed her because he heard us coming. I let my rifle drop and hang from its sling. The look on the man's face is one of pure terror. Good, he should be fucking scared. I snatch the front of his shirt. I'm only just noticing the blood splattered across it. I yank him into me while driving the knife into his gut.

His face contorts in pain and he grunts. His hands grip my forearm of the arm holding the knife. With my eyes locked on his face, I slowly drag the knife across his stomach. I want to see every ounce of pain that I'm causing him. He gasps and chokes and shakes in my grasp. His eyes bulge and his mouth works as he tries not to scream. I can hear the disgusting sound of his intestine and possibly some other organs falling from the devastating wound that I just inflicted on him. Some of it even hits my boots. I can see that that he's starting to die, the life leaving his eyes. The last eyes to see my wife alive. I take the knife from his stomach and easily pluck his left eye out with the tip of the knife. He jerks but doesn't make a sound. I'm basically holding him up by his shirt now. He's almost gone. I finish by stabbing the big knife into his right eye before throwing him to the ground.

"Sarge?" comes Turner's concerned voice from behind me.

I ignore him and step over the guy that I just killed to get into the room. Against the far wall is a metal cot. The room is illuminated only by a few candles. The body on the cot is deathly still. She's naked. As I get closer, I can see the puddle of blood under the cot. Too much blood lost for anyone to survive. The woman's skin is so pale...too pale. Her blonde hair is dirty and matted with dried blood. Her once beautiful face is bruised and swollen beyond recognition. She's tied down to the bed, spread eagle. No doubt she was raped repeatedly, going by the visible bruising on her thighs and hips.

"Sarge, we gotta get moving," Fuller murmurs regretfully.

I just nod, unable to digest the scene in front of me. I take my own knife from its sheath and cut the rope binding her down. He slit her throat. It only had taken but a moment for her to bleed out. She was still alive when I entered the front door.

"Parrish," Fuller urges.

As gently as I can, I scoop up my wife and cradle her in my arms. Her body is still warm but I know in my heart that she's gone. I turn with her in my arms and both Fuller and Turner bite out vicious curses before falling out in front of me, guns up.

As we exit the way we came, my other two guys, Stewart and Marsh, are there waiting to cover us. Their faces fall when they see me and the load I'm carrying. Without a word, they circle me, protecting me from all sides. We quickly make our way back to the Humvee where Velazquez is waiting.

Fuller opens the back door for me and I slip inside, cradling Zara on my lap. I can feel the break down coming, but we need to get out of danger first before I lose it. The guys pile in and Velazquez hits it.

As the town grows smaller behind us, the weight of what just happened hits me. I lost her by seconds. Seconds! A blanket comes from somewhere and is wrapped around Zara's bloody and broken body. I clutch her to my chest as the first sob rips up my throat. Agony rips
open my chest and shatter my heart. I feel hands come down on my shoulders in support and comfort from my friends but nothing will ever be able to take away the hole in my chest where my heart used to be. The ride back is silent except for the sounds of my excruciating pain.

I gasp as I shoot straight up in bed, my eyes wide and searching. I'm panting hard and my body is drenched in sweat. Tears continue to pour from my eyes. I can't keep reliving this night after night. I just can't take it. I throw my sheets off and slide my ass to the edge of the bed, running my hand through my damp hair. I take a few deep breaths to try to calm myself. I can feel my whole body shaking.

The dream was so vivid. It was as if I was there living it all over again. But that was almost four years ago now. Even after all this time, I can still hear, feel, see, and smell everything from that night as if it had just happened. And every time I have that dream, my heart shatters all over again.

This is my second date with the lovely, Arianna Bennett. We had a really nice first date, so I wanted to see how a second one would go. Arianna is a beautiful woman. She’s also kind, down to earth, cute, and funny. She’s everything a man could ask for in a woman. So why can I not feel something for her? I want to, that’s why I asked her out again, but something is just not clicking in place for me. I should be dying to kiss her pouty lips; yet, I have no desire to kiss her at all. I haven’t had sex in about four years. I’m considering myself a born again virgin. It’s not that I’m intentionally trying to be celibate; I just haven’t been ready to take that step with someone new.

My wife, Zara, died a tragic death coming up on four years now. She had been a news reporter for a television station in London, but was working over in Iraq when we met. We fell in love so fast and so hard. I knew she was it for me; there is never going to be another woman that I will love more than her. She was kidnapped, raped, tortured, and beaten before her throat was sliced open. I found her body and it still haunts me. I still have nightmares. I still wake up screaming and shaking, my body drenched in sweat.

Two weeks after her death, my convoy was attacked. I lost my right foot and half of my lower leg. I can still feel it sometimes. It will hurt or itch, and when I go to reach for it, there is nothing there. It’s still weird to not have part of my leg, but I’ve learned to cope fairly well with my prosthetic.

Arianna’s hand gives my thigh a squeeze, bringing me back into the present day. We are sitting next to each other in a booth at a diner – the only thing I can really afford on a bouncer’s paycheck – as we drink coffee after a nice dinner.

“You okay? You spaced out a little bit there,” her sweet voice asks.

I glance over at her and give her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.”

She gives me a gentle smile, showing off her pretty, straight white teeth. Her eyes are a deep warm brown and her hair is auburn with golden highlights. She is really quite a stunning woman and the complete opposite of Zara, who was fair-haired with gray-blue eyes.

Tucker set us up. Tucker. I can’t help but smile when I think about him. He’s fucking awesome. Over the past year, we’ve become inseparable, two peas in a pod; when you see one, the other isn’t too far behind. We met while admitted in the VA hospital, both of us suffering from PTSD. We were roommates and still are. Once we got out of the hospital and got on our feet, he moved into my condo with me. My sister’s fiancé paid off the mortgage – yeah, he’s rich like that – because he didn’t want me living in some shit apartment. Now, Tucker and I only have to pay for the condo fee and utilities, which we can definitely handle with our combined salaries.

Arianna is the sister of one of Tucker’s friends. He told her about me and she insisted on meeting me. So here we are, second date, engaging in small talk over coffee in a booth at a diner. Wow, I’m such a catch…NOT! I don’t know what she sees in me because not many women would be okay with going to a diner for a date. But she is perfectly fine with it, which makes her awesome. I just really wish I could feel something…anything…for her.

“So, do you want to come back to my place for a little bit?” Arianna asks quietly, her hand creeping up my thigh, making it painfully obvious her reason for asking.

Do I? I should, but I don’t, not really. Her hand traveling up my thigh should also turn me on…but it's not. I nod. I’m going to try. I promised myself that I would try. I need to move on. I need to live my life. Zara is not coming back and I’m tired of being alone.

“Yeah, okay,” I hear myself say.

She gives me a saucy smile and leans in, giving me a lingering kiss on the lips. It’s…nice. Definitely not Zara. She pulls back and licks her bottom lip, something that would normally have my dick tenting in my pants – not anymore.

“Mmm, you taste good,” she whispers.

I smirk, trying to hide the iciness inside of me. Hopefully she can’t tell how utterly dead I am inside. The only person who knows the real me, how I truly feel and can understand the deadness, is Tucker. He knows because he’s been there. He’s seen horrific things; he too has been blown up, losing his hearing, and he is the only one I feel completely comfortable around anymore. Even Beau, my sister Lizette’s husband, who I am fairly close with, doesn’t know the depth of my despair.

I’m currently on medication and going to therapy a couple of times a week, which has helped greatly to diminish the flashbacks I was having. I haven’t had any in the past few months, which is fantastic. Flashbacks are scary as shit, not only for me but also for the people I am around when they happen.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Arianna says, tugging me out of the booth.

I grab the receipt and pay up front before we head out the door to my car. Arianna reminds me how to get to her house and it only takes fifteen minutes to get there from the diner. I pull into her driveway and kill the engine. I turn my head to look over at her.

“You sure you want me to come in?” I ask.

She gives me a sultry smile. “Yes,” she answers confidently.

Okay then. We get out of the car and walk up to her front door. She unlocks the door and I follow her into the dark house. As soon as I shut the door behind me, she’s on me, kissing me while yanking at the buttons on my shirt.

“Ugh, god, you are so fucking sexy, I just can’t stand it anymore,” Arianna whispers against my lips.

Wow. I had no idea! No really, I never thought of myself as sexy. I mean, I’m in shape, I have a six pack and the V that all of the ladies seem to drool over, but I just don’t see myself like that, I guess.

I know my shirt is open when I feel her soft hands running up and down my chest and stomach. I do my best to keep up with her, but she’s gone wild. Her mouth has moved down to my neck and she is nipping at my skin while her hands wander all over me. I’m backed up against the door, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that it feels good. All I can think of is the fact that this is not Zara. Zara was never this forceful with me. She liked it when I took control.
Dammit!

Arianna drops to her knees and yanks my belt open, tearing open the fly of my jeans. Before she can reach inside and find that I am not even close to being turned on, I grab her wrists, stopping her in her tracks. I’m completely embarrassed and I just can’t stand for her to find me without so much as a semi.

“Arianna, wait,” I pant into the darkness. “I…I don’t think I can do this.”

A moment of silence before she responds with a soft and sympathetic, “Okay…it’s okay.”

I help her back to her feet before closing up my jeans. “I’m sorry,” I mutter in humiliation.

“Hey, it’s fine, I understand,” she says gently, rubbing my arm with her hand. Tucker told her my story, so she knows that I’m a widower.

“I can’t do this…it’s probably better if we don’t see each other again. I don’t want to lead you on.” I sigh, buttoning my shirt back up.

“Really? Are you sure? I mean, I thought we were really hitting it off. Are you sure this isn’t something we can slowly get into, maybe after getting to know each other a little better? I really like you, Dennis,” she says, a desperate edge to her voice. She must really like me a lot. Shit.

“No, no, I don’t think I’m ready for all of this. I thought I was, but I’m not. I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have. I’m sorry, I gotta go,” I say somewhat quickly and open the door.

I start for my car in the driveway.

“Call me if you change your mind!” she calls after me.

I turn when I reach my car and give her a tight smile and a sharp nod, before getting in and pulling the hell out of there. Fuck. That was not what I was hoping for. I thought that maybe if I could get laid, I could start moving on. Apparently not. I race back to the condo, needing to just get home where I feel safe. I am not entirely comfortable with being out in public. I feel like people are staring at me for whatever reason. I know it’s all in my head, but my head is fucked up.

I park in my spot in the parking garage next to Tuck’s crotch rocket. The bike is sweet, but it scares the shit out of me. He is a good driver, wears a helmet and all the protective leather gear, but it’s still not enough for me. Those things are dangerous as shit, but he won’t give it up. Loves it.

I take the stairs to help work off some of my irritation. I’m annoyed with myself for what happened with Arianna. Why can’t I get over Zara? Okay, not get over her per se, but move on, why can’t I move on?

I shove my key into the lock and open the door. The condo door opens into a small entry hallway that leads right into the living room. We have it set up so that the couch is facing the door so that Tuck can see when someone comes in if he’s sitting there. We realized shortly after moving in together that we needed to change the furniture around. Since Tucker is deaf and can’t hear the door open and close, I scared the shit out of him multiple times before he got fed up and turned the couch. 

He is sprawled on the couch, one arm tucked behind his head as he watches the flat screen TV in the corner. It’s on mute, but he has the closed captioning running. He glances over at me, sees the look on my face and frowns. He sits up, his wild dark brown hair a mess as usual, and his bright blue eyes scan over me from head to toe.

“What happened? You don’t look too happy,” he says.

I drop my keys on the table next to the door and use sign language - which I learned while in the service from a buddy of mine - to talk to him because I just don’t feel like talking out loud. Since he is basically deaf – he can only hear really loud bass noises, like fireworks or an explosion, and even that's muffled – I don’t have to bother actually speaking out loud since we both know sign language.

“I ended it, it wasn’t going to work out,” I sign, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water.

He gets up and follows me. “What? I thought you guys were getting along?” he asks in confusion.  He may not be able to hear, but he can still speak perfectly.

I turn to face him so he can see my mouth when I talk because he can read lips really well. “We do get along, but I feel nothing for her, and I don’t want to lead her on. I don’t want her to think that there is a chance it will go anywhere, because it won’t,” I say, watching him as he watches my mouth.

He sighs in resignation and nods. He knows, he understands, I knew he would.

“In another place and time, maybe if Zara never came into my life, Arianna would have been perfect for me. Now, though, I have nothing to give her.”

Tucker nods again and leans his hands on the island counter, the muscles in his arms bunching under his skin. He’s wearing his trademark wife beater and sweatpants. It’s what he wears when he’s not in his shirt and tie for work or his leathers when riding his bike. He will occasionally wear jeans and a t-shirt if we go out somewhere, but it’s rare. He likes to be comfy, he says.

“It’s a shame, she really likes you,” Tucker says with a frown.

I sigh and rake a hand through my dark hair. “I know. That’s why I needed to end it now, before she fell in love with me or something.”

“You did the right thing,” he agrees.

“Thanks,” I say quietly, grateful for the reassurance.

“Right, so…wanna finish watching the game with me?” he asks with a nod toward the living room.

“Definitely,” I reply with a smirk.

~Tucker~

I’m running again. Why the fuck am I always running? Duke is in front of me and Chuck is behind. The street is filled with smoke from all of the burning buildings and vehicles. We’re trying to get the hell out of here and back to the Humvee. The mission is being aborted and we need to vacate ASAP. My chest is heaving with the force of my breaths and from carrying the extra fifty pounds of equipment that each of us carry.

I hear Chuck scream in pain behind me and I skid to a halt, as does my heart. I turn to see him clutching his left thigh with one hand as he tries to continue to run. Blood is seeping from between his fingers. Fuck, he’s been hit! I scream Duke’s name as I head back to help Chuck. I do my best to fight the panic and terror that is starting to bubble up inside of me. There is a lot of blood coming from his leg. I have a horrible feeling that we’re not going to be making it out of here alive.

“Alright, man, you’re gonna be okay, I got you,” I yell to Chuck as I drape his right arm around my shoulders.

“Fuckers shot me!” he squawks, almost in disbelief. It would have been comical if the situation weren’t so dire.

Duke is a few feet in front of us, watching our backs as we fight to make our way down the road in a timely fashion. I can see the Humvee and the rest of our squad waiting for us. Almost there.

The three of us are about fifteen feet away when it happens. An RPG hits the Humvee. Duke, Chuck, and I are blown back. The explosion is so loud that the pain in my ears is instant.

The weight on my chest is almost unbearable. What the hell happened? Why do I feel like I have two hundred pounds of dead weight lying on top of me? I blink open my eyes, coming face to face with Chuck’s lifeless hazel eyes. I scream. Or at least I think I scream. I can’t hear myself. Actually, I can’t hear anything. A moment later, Chuck’s dead body is rolled off me and…Dennis’ face comes into view? His mouth is moving, so I know he’s talking, but I can’t hear anything. He grabs my flak jacket and shakes me, his mouth still moving. Wait…that’s not right, Dennis wasn’t there that day. It’s supposed to be Duke that grabs me.