“Christian lost a good friend to a suicide bomber the night before. He was drinking and getting high—a bad mix. His buddies had talked him into going back to the barracks to sleep it off, but as they were leaving the gate, Christian saw a girl—an Iraqi citizen, much like the one who’d blown herself and his friend to kingdom come. He was trying to scare her, making lewd comments and gestures, but she was apparently too young and naïve to be afraid, so it escalated. My brother assaulted her and could easily have hurt her in his blind rage if Corporal Bowman hadn’t come to her aid. She told him to get down on the ground, and he freaked out—went fucking nuts. He made a grab for her handgun. They wrestled for it, and she pulled the trigger.”
His voice filled with ragged sorrow, Blake paused. “I was still recuperating mentally from my own wounds when I got the news. I met him in Maryland at the hospital. He was a mess, strung out, going through withdrawal and facing criminal charges. He’d just lost everything. His career, his self-respect and everything from the waist down. I couldn’t get over the fact he’d been shot by one of ours.” Blake wrapped both hands around his coffee cup and tipped it on edge, staring at the dark liquid inside.
“I had friends in Baghdad, and I contacted them. Seems several of the Marines in the corporal’s division weren’t too happy with the situation. Sacrificing a good soldier to save ahajihad made Kellie unpopular. Some even called for an investigation and court martial. So…I threw the weight of my former commission into the fight to see her locked up for what she’d done to my brother.”
MacGyver frowned at Blake’s use of the derogatory term for Muslims made prevalent by the military. It was true the enemy in Iraq were extremists and terrorists who came in all sizes, shapes and ages, but MacGyver had never been okay with hate for an entire race or religion.
Blake set his cup down and leaned forward on his elbows. “I know what you’re going to say—the same speech I’ve given myself a hundred times. Christian fucked himself. But if you could have seen my kid brother, struggling to find a reason to go on living. If you’d gone through it with him like I did, maybe you wouldn’t be so quick to judge.” Blake’s eyes held a plea for understanding.
Memories of MacGyver’s friend and fellow SEAL, Luke Harding, rushed to the forefront of his mind. Luke had been held hostage by militant jihadists that spun off Al-Qaeda after Osama bin Laden was killed. Against all odds, Luke had survived, was rescued and recovered from devastating wounds, both physical and mental. Nothing about his struggle had been easy. MacGyver understood better than most.
Blake gave a derisive laugh. “Long story short, Kellie was cleared of any wrongdoing. She and her commanding officer managed to get the charges against Christian dismissed, and a dishonorable discharge was a gift, under the circumstances. Not that he hasn’t been punished for his actions. He’ll never walk again. He’s accepted his situation. I’d almost come to terms with it too, until Corporal Bowman jumped into my airplane, and I went a little crazy. Hatred is a bitch.” Blake leaned back and issued a deep sigh. “So, there’s your story. Google it, if you don’t believe me.”
MacGyver raked his fingers through his hair. Blake’s pain and anguish were real. He couldn’t have been fully recovered from the chopper crash that shattered his leg when Christian came home. Modern medicine had done amazing things to save Blake’s leg, but it was a long road to recovery. MacGyver had watched the wounded in the hospital at Bethesda while Luke was in rehab. He saw their anger—understood their frustration. Whether their wounds were life-threatening, left them maimed or took a part of their body in exchange for leaving them alive, each of them had to decide how to handle their pain and loss—their new place in the world. The shitty reality was not all of them would make it.
MacGyver rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, where his muscles were tight from inactivity. He cleared the lump from his throat as he sat forward and leaned one elbow on the table. His friend had told him the truth, and part of MacGyver identified. “I get it. If it’d been one of my sisters, I can’t truthfully say I would have reacted any different than you. Blood is blood, no matter what, and protecting those we care about is automatic.”
A small measure of relief flickered in Blake’s eyes but, a heartbeat later, his attention dropped to his coffee cup. The silence seemed to vibrate. MacGyver didn’t need to look behind him to know Travis and Jeremy had been affected by Blake’s story as well.
MacGyver shook his head. “Turns out our first instincts aren’t always right. YouknowKellie had to stop the attack, Blake. It was the right thing to do, and it was her job. Look at me and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same. Jesus, Blake! What if that sixteen-year-old girl had been your sister? You’d have a different perspective then. We both would. I know you don’t want to hear this, but Christian made his own choices, and it’s damn near impossible to protect someone from themselves.”
Blake sighed. “Spoken like a damned philosopher.”
MacGyver allowed the silence to reign for a minute. “The question is can you put your vendetta aside and admit you were way off base about Kellie? We could use your help, Blake.”
“No shit, Sherlock! Did you forget that’s why I’m here?” A tentative smile cracked Blake’s lips. “I’ve got a plan.”
“What would that be?” Travis approached the table.
Blake’s smile transformed into a confident grin. MacGyver was well aware Blake hadn’t answered his question, but he was willing to overlook the omission for now, as long as there were no repeats of the tense scenes between Blake and Kellie.
“Palazzi has some reinforcements on the way. They’re coming by chopper.” Blake paused as he looked back and forth between Travis and MacGyver, obviously waiting for them both to catch up.
When only puzzled silence resulted, Blake rolled his eyes heavenward. “I was thinking I might borrow the bird when it lands.”
Chapter Sixteen
Kellie cracked her bedroom door open in time to hear Blake reveal, to a quietly attentive audience, the catastrophic moment that had changed her life forever. Her self-confidence momentarily crushed, she leaned her head against the door. So much for believing all those counseling sessions had been worth the money Uncle Sam paid. The knot in her chest was a sure sign her battered conscience had seen better days.
When Blake finished, a hush fell over the entire cabin. For twenty…thirty…forty seconds no one spoke. Kellie didn’t make a sound.
MacGyver broke the silence. “I get it. If it’d been one of my sisters, I can’t truthfully say I would have reacted any different than you. Blood is blood, no matter what, and protecting those we care about is automatic.”
His words echoed through her mind, not completely unexpected, yet devastating just the same. If he’d reached inside her chest and yanked out her heart, it wouldn’t have hurt any worse. Kellie closed the door quietly and pressed her hands over her ears as though she could make it all go away. Unmasked again, her sins laid bare for everyone to see—to judge—she was suddenly back in Baghdad. Hours of grueling questions, followed by nights when she didn’t dare close her eyes for fear of remembering, had been the easy part.
The worst had been the censure of friends and fellow Marines. People she’d trusted to have her back had denounced her publicly, going ominously mute every time she walked into a room. Now, MacGyver—made ten times worse because she valued his opinion. She’dlethim become the gauge by which she judged herself.
What did they expect me to do?Should she have turned her back on the girl, Zariya, who’d smiled and exhibited understanding as she’d been patted down daily, searched as though she was a criminal at the gates to her own city?Hell no! May I never be that heartless.
Neither had she meant any harm to Private Christian Sorenson. His eyes hooded and pupils dilated, she’d recognized his drug-induced state and encouraged him to let his companions take him back to his barracks and sleep it off. Never would she have touched her handgun if he hadn’t grabbed it from her holster and turned it on her and Zariya.
His life and hers had been shattered that day. The difference had been that she could still walk, and so she’d grown to despise herself too. Without the help and understanding of her commanding officer, Captain Dupree, Kellie would no doubt still be trapped in an unending cycle of guilt.
She’d picked herself up and managed not to lose it during the investigation, withdrawing within herself for a time. In a way, Anna’s disappearance had saved her sanity—given her something to concentrate on—a reason to put her head down and finish her military commitment.
Survival had been the order of the day…and she could do it again.
She dropped her hands, straightened her spine and finished gathering her few belongings so she’d be ready to leave if their plan was still on. Afterward, she picked a book from her childhood collection, aligned the pillows against the headboard and stretched out on the bed. An hour later, when a knock sounded on her door, she was a hundred pages intoThe Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and she couldn’t remember a word she’d read.