Читать книгу Wolf Haven - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 9
ОглавлениеSKY TOOK A deep breath. Iris was the only other person, besides her parents, that she would tell. Too afraid of judgment from others, Sky evaded and avoided the truth at every turn with everyone. Even her father, who had told her to grow up and take it like a man. She licked her lower lip, and the words came out in a strained whisper. “I was in a helicopter crash and was one of the two survivors. I was then captured by the Taliban.” Her brows dipped, and she closed her eyes for a moment, all the terrifying emotions welling up inside her as she brought it all back. “I—uh...I was tortured for two weeks before a SEAL rescue team found me.” Lifting her head, Sky tried to steel herself for a reaction similar to her father’s. Instead, she saw nothing but sympathy in Iris Mason’s wrinkled face.
“I’m so sorry,” Iris said, her voice heavy with regret. “Do you have any physical problems because of it?”
Sky shook her head. “No...none. I’m a hard worker, Iris. I love outdoor, physical work. It actually helps me....”
Iris nodded, frowning and giving her a patient look. “It took a lot of courage to tell me this.”
Her fingers knotted a frayed thread on the edge of her purse. “Yes, ma’am...I mean...Iris.” Sky wanted to cry because Iris’s reaction was the same as her mother’s. It gave her the courage to look up and meet the elder’s darkened gaze. “You should know,” she went on, “that I have PTSD. The six months I was at Balboa Naval Hospital I received therapy for it.”
Iris nodded. “You’ll be glad to know you have company here on the ranch. Gray McCoy, the man who runs my wildlife center, is an ex–Navy SEAL. He has PTSD, too.”
Sky’s eyes widened, and she stared over the desk at Iris. “Really?” He was in the military. In the Navy. She knew a lot about the SEALs because so often these operators were wounded in action and arrived at her E.R. at Bagram. They were true heroes in her eyes. Men made of flesh and bone with lions’ hearts. She’d treated them over the years and had come to admire and respect them for their courage, their grit and toughness.
“Really,” Iris murmured. “Can you still operate with people, around children and babies, with your PTSD?”
“Yes, I can.”
“What can’t you do?”
Sky liked her question. “I, um, don’t do well in dark, enclosed spaces that have no fresh air.”
“Crowds?”
Sky shrugged. “I don’t like going into a movie or restaurant that’s full of people.”
“Would six dude-ranch families be too much for you to be around?”
“No.” And Sky’s mouth drew up a little. “Besides, I love kids. And babies. I never feel anxiety around them. Just...crowds.”
“I like your honesty, Sky. It becomes you.”
“Thank you. I feel as if I can trust you. I don’t know why, but I do. I don’t want to be hired without you knowing that....”
“I’ve got a small office in back,” Iris said, pointing behind her. “I was thinking it could be used as a medical office.”
“Does it have at least one window?”
She nodded. “Has two. That work for you?”
“Yes, that would work. Thank you.”
“What kind of symptoms do you have, Sky?”
“Nightmares,” she admitted, scowling. “I have them a lot, and I wake up screaming.”
“Well, Gray and you have another thing in common—nightmares.”
Sky almost felt as if she already knew this man. “I feel for him,” she said. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”
“Do you lose a lot of sleep because of it?”
“I get between three and five hours of sleep a night.” Sky shrugged. “I’m a nurse, and I hate taking drugs. I refuse to take sleep medication. My mother told me a long time ago that dreams were a way of healing ourselves, and I believe her. If I take sleep meds, I don’t dream. I guess I’d rather tough through the nightmares because sooner or later, the trauma will defuse itself through them, and I’ll be free. I hope.”
“You and I hate drugs,” Iris murmured, amusement in her eyes. “I have no problem with you having nightmares and not wanting to take meds to knock you out.”
“Good.”
“Any other symptoms I should know about?”
“I get panic attacks if I’m in a small, dark room.”
“What else?”
Sky bit down on her lower lip, her lashes sweeping downward. Iris was acting as if none of this bothered her. Was she really contemplating hiring her? How much should she divulge? Fear gnawed at her. “I get anxiety when I’m overly stressed.”
“Can you give me an example of it, Sky?”
She lifted her lashes and raised her head. “I got hired at a hospital over in Casper when I got released from the Navy. I found out very quickly I couldn’t stand the constant stress of E.R. work like I had before. I get rattled, and I’m no longer cool, calm or collected in that circumstance.”
“The stress level around here on a scale of 1 to 10 is a 3. Can you handle that?”
“Sure.”
“Good,” Iris said. She folded her hands and gave her a gentle look. “I like you, Sky. We try and hire vets around here. Vets have always been good for our ranch because they are hard workers who are responsible, and they’re loyal. I see those same qualities in you. I’m okay with your PTSD. We have good health insurance for all our employees. Your wounding came from war. It changes a person sometimes permanently, but you know what? No one can steal your soul from you.” She smiled a little. “I’d like to hire you, Sky. I think you’ll be a fine addition to our growing staff. How about I take you around and show you our place, the dude-ranch portion, the medical office? After this we’ll go over to the wildlife center and you can meet Gray, your boss. How does that sound?”
Sky’s heart skittered briefly with joy. It was the first time since her torture that happiness had threaded through her dark depression. “Thank you, Iris. I’d love to come work for you, for the ranch.”
Eyes twinkling, Iris slowly stood up and threw the old straw hat on her head. “Kinda thought this might be the perfect environment for you, Sky. You ready to check out your new digs?”
Was she? Euphoria, sweet and strong, soared through Sky. She sat there savoring the hope that came with it. Iris was smiling at her, kindness shining in her eyes. “More than ready, Iris.”
“Come on,” she urged, waving her hand toward the door.
* * *
“HEY, IRIS, YOU wanted to see me?” Gray closed the screen door to the office. His boss was sitting behind her desk.
“Indeed I do. Come on in for a minute.”
Gray removed his baseball cap and sat down in front of her desk.
“I’m sorry we missed you this morning. I just hired Sky Pascal. She’s an R.N., and I was hoping to have her meet you at the wildlife center.”
Gray grimaced. “Sorry. I had to run into town unexpectedly and pick up some supplies from the Horse Emporium.”
Waving her hand, Iris said, “I understand. Anyway, we need to have a chat about our latest employee, who will be your assistant.”
“Okay.” Gray saw some darkness in Iris’s normally bright, shining blue eyes.
Iris handed him the résumé. As Gray read through it, she shared the details from the interview she’d had with Sky. When she mentioned the PTSD, his head snapped up, his eyes narrowing intently on her.
“None of this is in her résumé,” he said, handing it back to her.
“She came clean with me.” And then Iris smiled faintly. “Just like you did during your interview with me.”
Gray flashed her a wry look. “I like her already. She’s honest.”
“That’s what I felt. It took a lot for her to discuss the situation with me. It was highly stressful on her.”
“What caused her PTSD?” Gray knew nurses would sometimes be at forward operating bases, and they got shelled and attacked by the Taliban. That was enough to give anyone PTSD.
“She told me she was in a helicopter crash and then captured by the Taliban and tortured.”
Instantly, Gray’s brows went down. He felt suddenly protective of the woman he’d seen this morning. “What?” That blew him away.
“Yes,” Iris said, going on in a low voice, “she said a SEAL team rescued her two weeks later. She spent six months at Balboa Naval Hospital after that. And then the Navy gave her an honorable medical discharge.”
His knuckles whitened around the arms of the chair he sat in. Gut tightening, he felt sick about it. “She looked fine this morning,” he muttered. “I saw her drive in and get out of her car.”
Iris raised an eyebrow. “Looks are deceiving, Gray. You probably know that better than most of us because of your SEAL training.”
Stunned by the information, Gray sat there, a host of raw, painful feelings twisting through his gut. “Yeah, I do know. But, Iris, this is rare. Rare for a woman to be captured and tortured. I mean, I’ve never heard of it while I was in.”
“It was bound to happen,” Iris said bluntly. “Women are serving in combat zones now. There are no lines of demarcation any longer.”
“I don’t deny that,” Gray said, scowling. Sky Pascal had looked so clean, untouched and beautiful this morning. God, what must she have gone through? “Did she say what kind of torture?”
“No, and I didn’t ask. I felt it was enough she told me. And it took everything for her to say it. She really struggled.”
Nodding, Gray felt his throat close up. His mind clicked along at a million miles an hour. “Damn.”
“Look, Sky knows you were a SEAL. I told her you two shared one thing in common—PTSD.”
“Yeah, that’s the truth,” he admitted darkly.
“But I need to warn you she has nightmares. Told me she wakes up screaming from them.”
His heart ached. For two years, Gray had been numb. Now he was filled with all kinds of emotions, as if his feelings were pulling out of their dormant state and coming to life once again. Reeling from the information, he rasped, “How often?”
“She said pretty often.”
“It’s still fresh in her,” he said. “That’s why.”
“Last I heard, you were getting nightmares about once every couple of weeks.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “But initially, especially the first year after the experience, a person can get nightmares three to six times a week. It’s brutal, Iris.”
“Guess that’s the phase of healing she’s in,” Iris said. “You up to dealing with this? Because the employee house is where both of you will be living when you’re not doing your eight hours of work around here.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Gray assured her.
“Maybe you can be of support?”
“Sure.” Pushing his fingers through his short brown hair, Gray added, “I can help, but damn, Iris, I’m not a psychotherapist. I could do more damage to her than help.”
“You know,” Iris drawled, sitting back in her chair, “the one thing age has taught me is if you come from the heart, it’s never wrong. Keep that in mind, Gray. Love of a sister or brother human being is pure light and never damages, but heals.” She wagged her finger at him. “I know you haven’t practiced much love as a SEAL, but you have a heart, you have feelings, and I believe that you can be there to help Sky if she needs it. Don’t you?”
Hell, he was already there, but he wasn’t going to tell Iris. He grinned a little. “Yeah, I can do it.”
“Good,” Iris said gruffly. “I need you to go over with your truck and pick her up at the Wyoming Inn, where she’s staying. Pack up her stuff and bring her back here. She’s taking the East bedroom. You’ve been assigned the West one. I’m going to leave it up to you to get her up to speed on stuff. Any problems, you come to me. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gray said, rising. He saw the bulldog set of Iris’s mouth and knew she was invested in Sky. And why not? From what he’d seen from a distance, Sky was worth fighting for. Worth caring for. Worth protecting.
He could sense all those SEAL feelings coming to life once more within him. When Julia had been murdered in South America, because he’d been unable to protect her, he’d died, too, in a different way. Now he was like a grizzly coming out of winter hibernation, coming back into the light of day. The fact Sky had been tortured twisted him in an unexpected way.
Iris sat there watching him. “I know you’re thinking of Julia,” she said softly. “Maybe this is a way to help you along with closing that wound within yourself.”
Wincing internally, Gray stood there absorbing Iris’s words. He’d fallen in love with Julia. He had been a military contractor assigned to protect her. And a year later, when she’d been caught in a cross fire, she had thrown herself in front of him. Taken bullets meant for him, such was her love. The guilt he carried was like an elephant sitting on his chest all the time. To this day, he faulted himself. He and Julia were married, and she’d sacrificed her life for his. Gray’s mouth flattened, and he slowly put the baseball cap on his head. “I don’t know about that, Iris.”
“It’s just a thought,” she said. “Now, skedaddle. Let me know when you have Sky here and acclimated. I’d like her to start day after tomorrow. Give her a ride around the ranch some morning.”
“Roger,” he said, leaving. Every time Julia’s name was brought up, it was like a branding iron savagely burned into his heart. The pain was insurmountable. The grief, equally serrating. As he took the wooden steps down to the lawn surrounding the building, he scowled. So far, he’d stuffed all his feelings into his kill box regarding Julia’s murder. SEALs learned to completely bury their emotions, leaving them clear-minded and free of distraction so they could operate efficiently. Emotions brought murkiness, indecision and hesitation. It could be a deadly distraction. Unsecured emotions could get a SEAL killed.
* * *
A SOFT KNOCK came at Sky’s hotel door shortly after lunch. She had opened up her suitcase, packed her toiletries and was getting ready to leave. She looked through the peephole.
A man with a weather-hardened face, his hazel eyes large and intelligent, stood relaxed at the door. Sky had seen him briefly the morning of her interview. Remembering Iris had said she’d send one of her wranglers to help her pack and get to the grocery store, she opened it.
The man wore a black baseball hat, the SEAL symbol embroidered in gold on the front of it. Her heart picked up in beat. He was built like all the other SEALs she’d ever seen at the E.R., lean, hard muscle. Not muscle-bound. She saw the creases at the corners of his eyes, telling her he’d spent a lot of time out in the elements. He had a square face, a nose that had been broken at least once, a scar that ran along the left side of his jaw. His eyes were narrowed upon her, and she could feel him instantly begin to catalog her; that was what SEALs did. They left no stone unturned.
SEALs reminded her of a primal animal in his element of raw survival.
“Ms. Pascal?” he asked in a low voice.
Her gaze moved down his arms. He wore a blue chambray shirt, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. His arms were darkly haired, his hands large, fingers long and capable. She gulped. “Yes. Did Iris send you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Grayson McCoy. I run the wildlife center for Iris.” He saw how pale she’d become, her gaze showing her uncertainty. Wanting to put her at ease, not place her on terror alert, he forced a slight smile. “Iris asked me to come over and help you out. I’ll take you to the grocery store and anywhere else you might want to go to before you move into the employee house this afternoon.”
Her fingers went to her throat. Sky could feel her pulse bounding beneath her fingertips. That was how much this man, this SEAL, affected her. When the corners of his mouth drew up, his game face dissolved. He looked approachable, human. “That would be nice. Thank you, Mr. McCoy.”
“Call me Gray. I’m not much on protocol, either,” he said. The change in Sky was stunning. Color rushed back to her cheeks. He liked her long, narrow hands. Seeing her pulse on the side of her slender neck, Gray found himself wanting to explore her as a woman. Sky Pascal was a looker. If he’d thought she was beautiful from a distance, she was exquisite now. “Can I help you pack or carry your suitcase down to your car, Ms. Pascal?”
Flustered, Sky saw the intense look he gave her. She might be all of twenty-six, but she knew when a man was appreciating her as a woman. For a moment, she was tongue-tied, which wasn’t like her at all before her capture. Since then, broken psychologically by the torture, she’d become shy and unsure of herself, her old self murdered by the Taliban. “Just call me Sky.” She stepped aside and gestured him into the well-appointed room. “I have one suitcase.”
Gray nodded deferentially and entered the room, feeling the woman’s nervousness. She wore the same pantsuit, looking quietly elegant. He watched as she quickly closed the door, noting her hands trembled. Purposely backing up so he wasn’t crowding her, Gray couldn’t stop liking what he saw. The sunlight was pouring into the window, and her ginger hair shone with gold and red highlights. It swung clean and shining across her shoulders. “Iris said she’d have me pay for the room. She doesn’t want you paying for it.”
“That was very kind of her. Thank you.” Her heart was going crazy in her chest. Gray McCoy reminded her of a lethal snow leopard, never hearing him come until it was too late. He had that distinctive SEAL walk, one of complete silence. Sky hadn’t been interested in a man for a long time. Now her body was behaving as if it had a mind of its own. She could feel her breasts tightening, feeling the heat of his gaze.
What was wrong with her? Was the stress too much? And yet, Sky didn’t feel anxious. Oddly, she felt protected by Gray. It was a sense, an energy. Nothing overt or obvious. Maybe it was the care she saw burning in his hazel eyes that missed nothing. She noticed how he gentled his tone of voice, as if dealing with a hyper wild horse. On some days, that was exactly how Sky felt. Bad days. On good ones, she was emotionally stable. But not today.
“Here,” he said, stepping forward, placing his hand around the handle of the suitcase, his chest barely brushing her shoulder, “let me get that for you.”
Sky stepped out of the way, her shoulder tingling wildly in the wake of Gray accidentally brushing against her. He smelled of sunshine, pine and a hint of sage that grew so prolifically in other parts of Wyoming. A man’s smell. Masculine. It made her ache. Sky hadn’t felt sexual in such a long time. She’d thought the capture had killed her femininity. Apparently not. At least, not with Gray McCoy, who stood patiently waiting with her suitcase in his hand. As a nurse, she was good at small talk. Now words just jammed up in her throat, and she couldn’t get anything out of her mouth. Sky missed that ability because in the past, she’d been able to gently communicate with men who were in excruciating pain and calm them with her voice and touch.
Picking up her purse, she said, “I’m ready.” When he smiled a little, one corner of his mouth hooking upward, his green, gold and brown eyes soothing, she felt a sheet of heat wind through her like a warm spring day.
Gray opened the door and stepped out, holding it for her. “Do you, by the way, have any jeans or work clothes with you?”
“I don’t.”
“No worries,” he assured her, shutting the door. “We’ll stop by the Horse Emporium on the way out of town. They have men’s and women’s work clothes. Iris wants you to start the day after tomorrow at 9:00 a.m.” He looked down at her. “That work for you?”
“Yes.”
Gray saw her hesitate, sort of looking like a deer in headlights, paralyzed. He knew PTSD could do it to a person when they were becoming overwhelmed with too much information, and they couldn’t process it as quickly as other people. “What would you like to do first?” He knew how important it was to hand back the control to her. It would ease her anxiety.
Sky gave him a look of apology. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed. I wasn’t really thinking I’d get the job.”
Gray smiled. “Iris knows what she wants. And she likes you a lot. Had nothing but praise for you when she told me she hired you.” He watched her begin to relax, some of the tension leaving her face. Did Sky know how beautiful she was? Was she in a relationship? Iris never said.
“Thanks for understanding.”
“Follow me,” Gray urged quietly, heading down the hall toward the elevator.
Sky felt pleasure watching this man walk with such silent grace. The breadth of his shoulders, his well-sprung chest narrowing into a flat, hard belly and narrow hips. The Levi’s hugged his long, thick thighs, telling her he spent a great deal of time in the saddle. As they waited for the elevator, she said, “Iris mentioned you were in the Navy like me.”
“I was a SEAL.”
“What team?”
“ST3.” He angled his head to see if she understood the terminology.
“I patched up a few ST3 operators the years I was at Bagram,” she said softly.
“You never saw me,” he said wryly, holding open the elevator door for her to enter first. “In a way, now I’m sorry you didn’t.”
“No, I never saw you in my E.R.,” she noted wryly. There was something about Gray McCoy that was allowing her to relax for the first time since being released from the hospital. Maybe it was his easygoing way, the warmth and care she saw burning in his eyes toward her. Or? Again, she felt him silently appreciating her as a woman. It lifted her spirits. Sky swore masculine heat radiated off his body. And she felt she could trust him. Maybe because he was an ex-SEAL? Her experiences with them had always been positive in the past. Why not now?
