Before Sunrise Page 3

  Hunkering down, he flipped on his night-vision unit, and then, in disbelief, the light attached to the scope of his weapon. Vasquez froze. To his horror, he saw three emaciated men chained to the walls. Two were white-skinned and very pale, the other probably Hispanic, or maybe Filipino, but in any case, these men were not locals. This tomb had been some kind of bunker five feet high and maybe eight feet wide. Piping dropped in to give minimal ventilation. The men appeared dead. But as he drew closer, one lifted his gaunt face. His hair, long and matted, covered most of it.

  “It’s gonna be okay, soldier. We’re here.” Vasquez choked back the emotion that made his words come out in a low rumble. He approached the skeletal man, whose blue, unseeing eyes were bright even in the hellish conditions. Those eyes, piercing as they were, weren’t what shocked the captain to his core. The tattoo on the man’s dirty, scarred chest set Vasquez utterly on edge. It was the head of a wolf, a howling wolf, with a turquoise, five-pointed star in the center of one of its eyes.

  Vasquez reached for the man, holding his face up and into the light.

  “Sweet Jesus. Liam? Is it you? Sweet Jesus! Holy Fuck! Get him down! Get him down now!”

  Chapter Three

  One Month Later

  Spring Lake, North Carolina

  “Mommy.”

  Kennedy moaned. Fatigue had settled in the pockets under her eyes. She managed to open one lid a fraction. A pair of hazel-browns, bright and wide in her four-year-old daughter’s cherubic face, hovered in close. Even now, Kennedy found her daughter’s irises to be a lovely contrast against her creamy mocha-brown skin. Even more special was the fact that Mackenzie’s intense stare mirrored the look Liam gave when he wanted something.

  “What is it, baby?” she swept Mackenzie’s long, dark locks back over her head so she could see her daughter’s face clearly. Phil turned to the sound of his stepdaughter’s voice. Mackenzie had crawled over him to get to her mother. Kennedy heard her husband groan, then sigh. Mackenzie did no wrong in his eyes.

  “I can’t sweep,” Mackenzie pouted. “There’s a monster in my bed waiting for me.”

  Kennedy sat up. “Come here.” She caught Mac by her arms and pulled her to her lap.

  Phil eased up on his pillows and switched on the light of the lamp next to the bed. “You got court in the morning, Kennedy. Why don’t I put her back to bed?” He had been sweet to offer, especially since he got in late and had an early morning as well.

  Mackenzie wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, forcing her head under Kennedy’s chin. “No, I’ll take her. Go back to sleep. Don’t you have to get up soon and go on base?” she asked, scooting with Mac’s hold growing tighter around her waist.

  “Yea, but anything for my girls. Damn, what time is it anyway?” Phil reached for his watch. Kennedy shook her head at his language. One thing about having a military man as your husband, the language was something you could never exorcise from his mouth.

  Kennedy wheezed. As much as she hated to admit it, Mac as they called her, had grown too big to carry. She managed to rise from the bed with her pampered child in her arms and take her from the room.

  Kennedy and Phil had only been married a year. Still, he’d been just as much a father to Mackenzie as if she were his own. Without his support and friendship she and Mac might not have come to the healthy and secure place they were now. Grief can do many things to a person. For Kennedy, grief had almost cost her the life of her child.

  She walked down the cold, dark hallway toward her daughter’s room, wishing she’d put on her slippers. Returning her daughter to her yellow-and-black bumblebee-d--decorated bedroom, she carried Mackenzie to her twin-sized canopy. She laid her down first, then scooped under her legs to draw the covers over her.

  “Now where’s this monster?”

  “Over there,” Mackenzie’s tiny voice whispered. She pointed a small finger shakily toward the closet door that had been left ajar.

  “You told mommy that he hid in your bed?”

  Mackenzie nodded. “Yes, but he went into the closet when you came.”

  “Ah. I see.” Kennedy’s turned to look again. She peered at the darkness beyond the door. To her surprise, tiny, beady eyes peered back out at her. She approached and reached for the doorknob.

  “No, mommy! Don’t.” Mackenzie whined, yanking the covers over her head.

  “It’s okay. I’m not afraid of no ugly ole monster.” Kennedy winked. She snatched the door open. A four-foot tall black Barbie dropped out. Phil had it especially made for Mackenzie’s third birthday.

  “Aha!” Kennedy said. “So here’s the monster.”

  Mackenzie lowered the sheet slowly. She blinked those long dark lashes over round brown eyes.

  “Its just Lily. See?” Kennedy brought the doll to the bed.

  Mackenzie’s smile lit her entire face. She put her tiny fingers over her mouth to cover her giggles. “Oh! Sorry, mommy. It’s just Lily,” came more giggles.

  Kennedy shook her head, and her pink satin headscarf slipped back from her forehead. She reached behind her and tied the knot down securely. “Somebody has a birthday coming up soon,” Kennedy said, accepting the doll from her daughter, then placing it in the rocking chair where Phil usually read to Mackenzie.

  “Yes, I’m gonna be five.” Mackenzie held up her five tiny fingers.

  “You sure are. On Christmas Day, no less.”

  “Do you think daddy knows I will be five, mommy?” Mackenzie yawned and pointed to the picture of Liam on her dresser. He wore khaki camouflage pants and a green T-shirt over a solid, muscled chest. He posed next to a Jeep in the middle of the desert somewhere. Even now, when her gaze fell upon his picture, love surfaced and made Kennedy’s heart turn over. The photo was the last sent by him before he died.

  Liam’s sly grin and clear blue eyes glistened from under a camouflage cap. If it weren’t for her friends and Phil, she wouldn’t have survived her grief, especially since she’d been just three months pregnant when he’d been called away.

  “Yes. Daddy knows, silly girl. Now give mommy a kiss goodnight.”

  “Eskimo kiss, mommy!”

  “You bet.” Mac giggled when Kennedy rubbed their noses together. She then kissed her brow lovingly. “Love you, baby. Sleep tight.”

  “How old is daddy?”

  Kennedy smiled. “Where are all these questions about daddy coming from?”

  “I wanna know. He a hero, ain’t he? Heroes have birthdays, too? And Christmas? Heroes have Christmas.”

  Kennedy stared at her daughter. She looked once more to the picture of Liam. Mac always talked about her father in the present tense. Her little girl even told a few fables over their imaginary relationship. But Kennedy never talked to her about Liam unless Mac asked. She wondered about her daughter’s curiosity. Phil said it was normal. Maybe it was. Still, it pained her to think of Liam.

  If she reasoned through it, she could guess the true source of Mackenzie’s curiosity. A soldier from Fort Bragg had recently visited Mackenzie’s class and Mackenzie had become a superstar when the soldier told the pre-K students that her dad had been a hero. Mackenzie came home and forced Kennedy to pull out every photo she had of Liam. Even Phil had joined in to tell the few stories he knew of him, which made Kennedy smile, because she knew the two men couldn’t stand each other the several times they’d crossed paths.

  “Oh, daddy is about 34,” Kennedy said, smiling down at her.

  “Ooooooo, he old!” her daughter said, her eyes round as saucers.

  Kennedy laughed. “Yes, he’s pretty old…just like Daddy Phil is pretty old.”

  Mackenzie grabbed her purple teddy bear and stuffed under the covers with her. She turned over. “Okay, night mommy. I’m okay now.”

  “Night, baby.” Kennedy smiled.

  She walked over to Liam’s photo and picked up the silver picture frame. In the photo he had been off on one of those covert missions he could never talk about. He’d e-mailed her this pict
ure and she had printed and framed it.

  “You are pretty old, aren’t you sweetie?” Kennedy said. She kissed his image and gave a deep sigh. She set the picture down, then walked out of the room.

  ***

  Aircraft Carrier ~ Mediterranean Sea

  Liam swallowed roughly. His throat burned as if he were choking down shards of glass instead of saliva. It took some effort but he managed to open his eyes. Nothing made sense. He blinked. He blinked again. All he could make out were shadows and shapes, and the constant buzzing noise. So he closed his eyes and lay there perfectly still. He’d wait for darkness. He’d learned to love darkness. There was calm in darkness, peace. Liam used his mind over his body, and regulated his breathing, down to his heartbeat, until he felt it slow within his chest.

  Liam became aware. The cushion of the bed told an unexpected story. This wasn’t another hellhole to be tortured in. He had comfort. Liam opened his eyes. Focus returned. He recognized the shadow, as it took form, to be a nurse. Navy. He could tell by her uniform. Her hair was neatly pinned back under her cap. She had kind eyes and a sweet face, and that alone made him think he again had slipped into a dream. He felt her lift his wrist to check his pulse. She glanced up, then away, and then back. The nurse dropped his arm and backed away from his bed in shock.

  Well, hell. She wasn’t the only one.

  “Lieutenant! You startled me, sir. Welcome to the land of the living, sir,” she gushed.

  Liam tried to speak. He couldn’t. The nurse immediately got on an intercom. He heard her give a quick report. During her short bursts of speech, Liam employed every sense he could control, trying to understand his surroundings. The pure, clean air had definitely been filtered, and cold; he didn’t smell the desert dry heat or the stench of his excrement. His vision sharpened on the details of his quarters. He’d been put on a ship. The cold in the room, the painted steel walls, the low ceiling and mounted medical apparatus looked distinctly military. Yes, he was on a ship. If he remained perfectly still he could feel the thrum of the engines, far below.

  The time spent in captivity, he’d lived almost entirely in his head. He’d imagined himself places far and wide, anywhere but the hell he actually dwelled in. Some days he convinced himself he swam in the cool ocean, or played golf with Eric and Vasquez. Even better, he’d be home on the tan-and-blue sofa, watching the Vikings and knocking back a brew while Kennedy slept underneath his arm. But none of those moments felt as real as this one. It confused him. He owned his fucking dreams. Dreams were the one thing they couldn’t take from him. In his dreams he had Kennedy, her sweet, soft body pressed to his as she made him repeat his promise that on his return date he’d be through the door before sunrise.

  That promise he kept each and every time. Liam would roll her under him and she’d stare up at him with worship in her eyes. He hated to admit it, especially then, but he liked the undiluted, unwavering love he found there. Not many people gave a shit about him in the world. Kennedy’s faith in him had been complete. She’d run away from her family at seventeen to go with him when he joined the Navy. Her devotion made him feel like a man, her man. Those moments were a constantly visited dream for him. And even though they could get vivid, loving her, kissing her, the moment he tried to hold her always felt hollow and disappointing.

  The metal door clanged open. Liam’s head felt heavy, but he managed to cast his gaze in the direction of the arriving visitor, a captain. This was no dream. He’d know that scarred face anywhere. Get the fuck out of here! Boy’s a motherfucking Captain? Vasquez, or Ant as Liam called him, was the same height as Liam, with deep olive skin and dark, curled locks, and it spoke to his Chilean descent. They’d sweated and bled under the same sun, kicking ass together in the desert. And look at this motherfucker now. Liam stared at the oak leaf on Vasquez’s lapel. Dressed in full uniform, Vasquez removed his cover and tucked it under his arm. He stared grimly down at the thickly bandaged lump that was Liam’s leg.

  Fuck, I need to get out of this bed and kick your ass, Ant! Where the fuck am I? How the hell have you been? What took you so long to find me, motherfucker? Liam shouted in his head. All he could do was manage a weak smile at the sight of his friend. But his surprises didn’t end there. A tall, thin woman stepped into the narrow space alongside Vasquez. She wore a khaki suit jacket, with more bars on the lapel than there should have been, and her red hair was longer than he remembered. Even pulled back off her face, it almost touched her shoulders. Alex. She looked different; powerful in a way he couldn’t put a name to. It made him uneasy. Liam tried to focus on what exactly her collar insignia represented. Definitely wasn’t any Marine classification he knew. Last he saw her, she’d been a helo driver, holding a lower rate than Vasquez.

  Liam lay there, stunned. Alexa Sinclair appeared beautiful as always; even he had to admit that. Her porcelain-white skin and pouty full lips used to drive the men in her unit nuts. But she’d castrate any man who dared to reduce her to a piece of ass. She had been tough beyond compare. She hadn’t been the first female helicopter pilot in the services, but one of the couple-dozen who’d seen combat. Alexa was part of the elite group who’d survived hostile live-fire. He and Eric used to joke that she probably had teeth in her crotch, ready to shred a man’s cock before the first nut.

  The truth he’d never shared with Eric burned his gut. Alexa tried to get on him a few times and more than once he’d been tempted. They’d been caught in some wicked shit. And what the hell, he was a man. Long months in the desert away from Kennedy made the beast in him thoughtless. He’d never crossed the line, though Alexa offering to get him off in his sleeping bag one night could be constituted as such. He’d almost gone for it—his utilities had gotten unzipped, something that made him feel like absolute shit right up to the present moment—but Liam could honestly say he turned the sex down. As far as he was concerned, why dine on a hamburger when you’ve grown accustomed to steak? No woman could get him like his Kennedy.

  Next through the oblong door came Eric.

  Eric Drake’s presence filled the room. This brother should have been a politician he was so smooth, even under extreme pressure. Nothing dimmed that spark in his eyes and sly smile. Skin a dark Hershey-brown, head shaven, he was a chick magnet with his calm manner and slick tongue. Eric had come up to the unit from SEAL Team Four, same as he had. Liam suspected he’d fucked Alex more than once, but he’d never confess. He, too, wore an oak leaf, which meant this motherfucker outranked him, too. Liam’s gaze cut back to Alex, whose collar insignia his weak mind struggled to explain. Could this be some branch of the Navy he didn’t know, and if so, how the hell was that possible since Alex had been a Marine? Was this why he was he even afloat, aboard ship? None of it made any sense. These were the three people closest to him in his career. They were also the three people closest to him in his personal life.

  Alex went to his side and took his hand in hers. Her eyes looked wet, which made Liam’s heart start to pound again, and not in a good way. Ant, Eric for sure, but never once had he seen Alexa Sinclair cry.

  “When they told me they found you I didn’t believe them. I couldn’t let myself believe.”

  Eric stood at the foot of the bed with his bald, shiny head gleaming under the fluorescent light. He gave Alex a flippant look and smirked down at Liam.

  “How are you, bro? You look like shit.” Eric’s eyes misted over with guarded emotion.

  Liam tried to speak once again but couldn’t. Well fuck yeah, it’s good to see you too, man.

  The nurse cleared her throat as the doctor entered. The officers saluted each other, unsure of their status in this man’s area of operations.

  “I will need you all to step back. I know you’ve been waiting for days. But I have to examine him first,” the doctor said in a clearly irritated tone.

  Vasquez spoke up. “Is he okay?”

  The doctor turned away from Liam and spoke quietly. “You were briefed on his condition when he arrived. Our efforts over th
e past month have been touch-and-go. He was severely dehydrated. His liver has been compromised by a parasite native to the area. His relapse into a coma the past few days has been our biggest concern. But he’s alert. So I’m hopeful. Now please, step aside. I will let you know when he can be debriefed.”

  “Keeennaaadeeee,” Liam croaked out, his gaze bouncing from one friendly face to the other. He caught the surprise in Alex’s eyes. But other than a quick glance at each other, Eric and Vasquez showed no reaction. What the hell?

  Liam wanted his wife, damn it. She should be there, or he should be in a hospital where she could be with him. Why the fuck was he on a ship? Did the doctor say he’d been in a coma for weeks? No way. No fucking way!

  Careful of the IV drip, Vasquez put a hand to his arm. “In time, friend. First you get some rest. There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

  “Baybiiiee?” Liam wheezed, his eyes darting between Alex and Vasquez. How long had he been gone? It felt like an eternity, but of course it would feel like that in hell. He’d only been gone a few weeks, maybe a couple months at most. Maybe he hadn’t missed the birth of the baby at all and Kennedy waited for him to get her through delivery. Maybe all the hell and suffering had been a hallucination. In his dreams, he’d been there to see the birth of his kid. He needed to know about the baby.

  Eric’s voice calmed him. “You have a little girl, bro. They call her Mac, but her name is Mackenzie.”

  Liam expelled a deep sigh of relief. Before he deployed, he’d told Kennedy he’d wanted that name.