What Part of Marine Don't You Understand? (The Challenge Series) (2 page)

“Inner ear damage does that. Are you still going to your physical therapy?”

“For what?” He blew out a breath. He didn’t mean to be combative. But he wasn’t Jazz having to learn how to walk again, or Joe who needed to build up the strength in his back, or any of the dozen others working to overcome debilitating physical injuries.

“To work on your balance, to work on your physical fitness, to learn techniques to compensate when the world tilts.”

A bitter taste flooded his mouth. “I’m physically fine. I just can’t do my job.”

“You can’t return to active duty in a combat zone, no. But you aren’t impaired.”

Jethro whined and Matt stroked his head automatically. His heart thudded in his chest. “Every time I think I can do it—I can’t. How do we fix this?” The acrid taste retreated and he swallowed. He should have brought a bottle of water with him.

“We have to talk about what happened. You have to remember and not relive it.”

“I’m not reliving it.”
Am I
?

Shouts echoed in the hallway and feet thundered past. He jerked to a stand and started forward three steps. Jethro butted into him, the leash rubbing the cuts on his knuckles. Matt stopped, disoriented and looked at James.

No feet echoed in the hallway. He wasn’t in Iraq. He was in Allen, Texas.

“Holy hell on a biscuit.” He sat down before he fell down, and Jethro shoved his head under his hand. He couldn’t make it stop. “How do I make it stop?”

“Breathe, Matt. Look at Jethro. He knows you’re upset. Breathe.” If only James’ calmness could flow from the psychologist to him. Matt heard the words but couldn’t quite process them. “You haven’t hurt anyone, and you haven’t hurt yourself.”

“Why does my mouth taste like ass?” Sweat trickled down his neck. Oxygen burned in his chest with every breath he took.

“That’s the adrenaline. You got upset. You remembered and you were there. The bitter taste is adrenaline.”

“I’m getting short-changed here.” Amusement and disbelief warred with the craziness swirling inside him. Everyone thought his issues stemmed from a helicopter accident, including Matt. He survived the first, recovered, and his first night back on duty came the attack.

“No, it’s normal. With a lot of veterans, you start cooking and after a while, you can’t stop it anymore—that’s when you snap. You keep bringing yourself up to the boil and then retreat.”

“What gets me cooking?” And why hadn’t they talked like this before? The blood pounding in his skull eased and his heart stopped trying to pound its way out of his chest.

“With veterans it can be a car backfiring, a twig snapping, or a box dropping off a shelf. The sudden, explosive noise reminds them of….”

“Gunshots.” That made sense. He could actually wrap his mind around that.

“But that’s not what sets you off.”

“So what is it?”

“I know this will sound like I’m telling you that five plus five equals a pile of hay, but it’s people yelling or laughing or running. Large movements of people. It’s what set you off in the bar. It’s why you didn’t stick it out at Damon’s restaurant. It’s why going home—”

“Is hard. Everyone comes to see me. The house is always full of people, family, neighbors, kids….”

James nodded slowly. “Kids are loud. They yell. They run. What happened that day in Iraq, Matt?”

“Insurgents came through one of the perimeter gates. They rammed it in with three SUVs…one detonated at the gate. Killed four men and the driver.” The bitterness swam through his mouth again, but he kept petting Jethro.

“Where were you?”

He shook. “In my bunk. It was the middle of the night….”

“And what happened?”

Matt closed his eyes. Yelling erupted in the darkness, the alarm sounded. Booted feet hit the floor, and he jumped up and ran. Floodlights filled the yard and dazzled his night vision. Somewhere between the room and the courtyard, he’d armed himself. The truck came at them—the insurgents fired—Matt and the others fired back.

It exploded.

The world floated around him, everyone ran.

The shouts came intermittently like the volume being turned up and down.

He wanted to vomit.

Opening his eyes, he met James’ solemn gaze. “I’m seriously fucked up.”

“No. You’re only a little bit fucked up. But you’re talking about it now.”

Exhaling a shuddering breath, he scratched alongside Jethro’s neck. The dog appreciated the attention and leaned into the affection.

“Why now?” He swallowed the urge to be sick, the cold sweat leaving him fevered and chilled at the same time.

“Because you’re ready now.”

“Is that going to be my reaction every time I hear a big group of people?”

“No.” Doc shook his head. “Because we get better and I can help you.”

Chapter Two

“Naomi, call for you.” The shout from downstairs intruded through the fifteenth audition tape she tried to review. Grateful for the interruption, she hit the spacebar on the laptop and bounced off the bed. Her roommates wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t someone important.

She glanced at the caller ID on the cordless and laughed. “Hello, Congressman Pain in the Ass, how is Washington today?”

Her eldest brother graduated Annapolis, served three tours in Iraq, returned home a wounded veteran with one leg, and threw himself into public service. His recent election to the House of Representatives added another kudo in a long line of damn-isn’t-my-brother-awesomeness.

“Good morning to you, Sassy Sparks.” He would never let her forget her obsession with the Spice Girls.

“I’m busy, government stooge, what do you want?” But she grinned and stretched onto the bed. Checking her list of songs, she sighed. A dozen more to review and none thrilled her. She really wanted her first album to touch people and not be the same tired tropes rehashed over and over again.

“I need a favor, brat. So stop staring at your computer or plucking on your guitar, and listen to me.”

“Of course you do and I do not pluck on my guitar. I play it.” But she rolled onto her back obediently and stopped staring at the song list. It made her crazy anyway. “Whatcha need?”

“You remember Luke Dexter?”

The name sounded familiar.

“Nope.”

“Captain. Marine. Tall.”

She snorted. “Brent, you do realize that most of the Marines I know are taller than I am, right? You included?” Four brothers, her father, three uncles, two cousins, and all of her grandfathers were Marines. She couldn’t turn around without tripping over one.

“Luke Dexter, the guy who started Mike’s Place in Dallas? You went with us to the grand opening ceremony.”

“Okay. I remember Mike’s Place.” The facility sat on a gorgeous campus that mingled military and civilian in a seamless blending. The swanky party to celebrate its opening for veterans and their families had been pretty fun, too.

“Great. They’re planning some fundraising events over the next few months, and I am scheduled to attend, but….”

“You can’t?” It was a guess.

“Unfortunately, it’s just a matter of bad timing.”

“You know they have golf courses in Texas.” He’d never cancel if he could help it, but she liked teasing him.

“Actually Ryleigh might be ovulating and….”

“Oh. Stop!” She let out a squeal. “Too much information.”

He laughed and she scrubbed a hand over her face, the idea permanently burned into her brain. She would need bleach to get it out. “I will go. I promise. Just never mention why you can’t again.”

“You are the best. I’ll have my office book your tickets and make all the arrangements.”

“No problem. Really happy to help.” They chatted for a few minutes more and then he had to go to a meeting. Sitting up, she tossed the handset onto the bed and looked at the song list again. Her producer sent a wide variety of songs and themes available. But none of them touched her. Hitting play on the next one, she grimaced.

Yeah, she definitely needed to find something different for this album.

***

Trailing after the dozen others touring the facility, Naomi absorbed the information the guide provided. She admired the fact that despite the escort, they didn’t intrude on any of the group therapy sessions. A scarred veteran named Logan Cavanaugh led the physical therapy tour—she wrote the name down on the pad of notes she compiled for Brent. A position paper she planned to write in trochaic tetrameter, it would drive her brother nuts and fulfill her promise at the same time.

A win-win in her book.

If the idea of Mike’s Place impressed her during the opening ceremonies, her current visit left her floored.

“Miss Sparks?” A woman beckoned her away from the group. “I’m Rebecca—”

“Ranier, I remember.” They shook hands and Naomi smiled. “Sorry, I was a little caught up in the guide’s story. He’s got a great voice.”

“Who, Damon? He can tell stories all day, but it can’t compare with his cooking. If you’ll come with me?” She motioned to a side hallway. “Luke sends his apologies, but we’ve had some issues with the new construction across the highway and he had to discuss it with the foreman.”

“Not a problem. I actually think the tour was a great idea. I’m sure Brent will be sorry he missed it.” Naomi followed her into a well-appointed office.

Decorated in dark woods, the room screamed masculinity. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooking an atrium offered a tremendous amount of light. Rebecca bypassed the desk and led her back to a comfortable sitting area.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you. We had coffee down in the mess and a chance to talk to some of the veterans. You have an amazing facility here.” Naomi crossed one leg over the other.

“Thank you, I don’t do much more than handle our publicity and fundraise, the credit goes to Luke and his men. They work tirelessly to make this place better every day. They know what to do and how to help—and when they don’t, they know who to bring in.”

“I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, Ms. Ranier—”

“Rebecca, please.”

“Only if you call me Naomi.”

They shared another fast smile. “Done.”

“What can Congressman Sparks do for you?”

“You come from a family of Marines, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re all born and bred. I grew up on Marine bases around the world. My brothers are all in service, or just out like Brent—Congressman Sparks. So I have nothing but the utmost respect for those who serve and want to, you know, push my sleeves up and get involved. Tell me what he can do, and I’ll do my best to push it through.” Brent could have sent an aide to do the tour, but he’d asked her.

This is personal
.

He wanted her take on it.

“House Resolution 2663 will be introduced during the next session. It calls for a reduction in funds for discretionary spending. One of the areas earmarked is veteran’s services.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“A new study was released that found the efficacy of veteran’s services at federally funded hospitals to be significantly less when compared to private hospitals. Because of attrition to our armed forces, they want to reallocate money to keep more people in the service, but they have to find the money somewhere.”

“So they’re targeting veteran’s services.” The thought made her feel vaguely ill. “It won’t pass.”

“We hope it won’t. I know Congressman Sparks is not on the Armed Forces subcommittee—but he could….”

“Talk to people who are. Okay, I will mention it to him. What else can we do?”

Her easy acceptance of the task seemed to surprise Rebecca and the woman laughed. “We’re going to increase our own fundraising activities, we need to get the word out and bring in prominent veterans to endorse Mike’s Place….”

“Done.” Brent wouldn’t hesitate. She could talk to her father, as well.

“I’d also like a pony.” Rebecca grinned.

“I can’t do anything about the pony, but maybe there’s something you could do for me.” The idea began as a bit of an itch in the back of her mind, but the longer she spent on the property the clearer it became.

“Name it.”

“Would you mind if I spent a few days here at Mike’s Place? Really have a chance to get to know the people….”

“To roll up your sleeves and get involved?”

“Yes.”

Rebecca didn’t answer immediately, but finally nodded. “I think that will be fine. Do you mind if I run this by Luke first?”

“Not at all. Out of idle curiosity, how did you two meet?” Her brothers described her as pathological in her ability to ask pointed questions, but Naomi was genuinely curious.

“That’s a long story.”

“Well how about I buy you lunch and you can tell me as much as you’re comfortable with?”

“I’d like that.” Rebecca rose. “But only if you let me treat.”

“I never say no to a free lunch.”

***

“That’s pretty much it,” Naomi said into the phone while hefting the guitar case onto the table. She flipped the locks open. Checking the Gibson after every trip was mandatory. She’d saved up every dime she earned over three summers to afford her beauty.

“You really like the place, don’t you?” Brent must have shut himself away in a quiet office, because the background noise faded.

“Yeah, I really do. It’s—they’re doing some amazing work here. I asked if they would let me hang out for a few days, really get to know the staff and some of the patients—you know those who are willing.”

She would need to retune the guitar since she always loosened the strings before she flew. Satisfied, she set it aside and pulled out her laptop to set it up.

“Aren’t you on some kind of deadline for the album you wanted to record?” Score one for big brothers who actually paid attention when she spoke.

“I’m still looking for the right songs and we don’t have our studio time booked until the end of next month.” She’d written two pieces, but neither was that powerful—they didn’t capture the soul, and she wanted something big. With just six weeks to put together the songs she wanted, she couldn’t afford downtime. “I have samples to review, but I can do that here and you will get a very thorough report.”