Page 14 of One Step Sideways

“They didn’t listen to him. He got zero defense. He was a scared sixteen-year-old kid, and all they saw was the scar.” Diesel stepped closer to me. “This isn’t like you. He already had one group of prejudicial pricks that locked him up because they didn’t bother listening to him, but I have to say I never expected you to be one of them.”

“But the dog,” I whispered, and Diesel frowned.

“What dog?”

“He was caught—” But I clamped my lips closed as nausea swamped me. “It was a lie.” Of course it was a fucking lie.

It took Diesel a minute, but then understanding flooded his eyes, which was probably worse. “Why didn’t you ask?”

“Who? You?” Danny snapped. “You’ve had a bug up your ass since you saw what the kids could do in Tampa.”

“You know I’ve been writing to his lawyer. You know Gregory sent us his details.”

I bristled. “I also know what I read in his file, but since you would never deign to discuss your decision or even your thought processes with me, how the hell was I supposed to know any better?”

“Hell,” Diesel said half-heartedly, then looked at the door. We could both hear a drawer opening. He straightened and took a step toward Kane’s room, but I put my hand out.

“No, let me. Assuming I still work for you?” I arched an eyebrow.

Diesel gave me a sheepish smile. “I’ll see what I can rustle up in the kitchen.”

“It’s ready in the fridge,” I muttered, then turned and walked towards his bedroom, putting my hand out to push the door, but thought better of it. That’s what they did in jail. No one had respected Kane’s privacy for at least seventeen years, so I knocked. “It’s Danny. Can I come in?”

“Sure,” I heard, so I pushed the door open, and Sadie and I walked through. I took in the old canvas bag with the couple of tee-shirts and pants Diesel had bought him on the bed. The empty drawer. He had nothing, which made me feel even worse. Kane glanced at me, but then his eyes slid to Sadie.

“Can I ask you a question?” my heart thumped, and I reached for Sadie as she pressed against my leg.

“You can ask,” Kane said, clearly stating he wasn’t forced to answer, and pushed the shaving kit from the bathroom into the bag.

“Why are you scared of dogs?”

Kane stilled, glancing at Sadie, who was sitting at my feet and looking as unthreatening as possible. Kane didn’t answer for a long moment, and I’d just got to the uncomfortable realization he might not when he glanced at Sadie again. “Because I was bit by one as a kid.”

I opened my mouth to ask more but closed it immediately. Of all people, I should know how trauma can affect someone. I didn’t tell people my story. I’d tried once, trusted once, and it hadn’t gone well. I looked at Kane. I had no reason to trust him, but for whatever reason Diesel did, and I trusted Diesel.

“I told you she was my support dog.” I sat on the bed as my knees shook. Sadie immediately joined me, and half lay over me. “She can sense I’m anxious.”

Kane nodded, but he didn’t come closer.

“The team adopted her in Kabul. I know Gray and Diesel paid a shit-ton to bring her home, and we had a charity’s help as well. We were three days from going home. Sadie had left with animal transport. Rawlings broke his toe of all things, so they sent him as well. That left me, Aubrey, and Gray, who you haven’t met.”

“The one married to a singer,” Kane said.

“Yep. There were four others, but they were killed instantly. Gray, Aubrey, and I were captured.” I swallowed and buried my fingers in Sadie’s hair. She was practically sitting on me at this point.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Kane said quietly and shocked me by sitting on the edge of the bed.

I huffed. “You don’t need to know the details, just that Aubrey died and if we hadn’t been found, I wouldn’t have lasted much longer.” I took another deep breath. “I came out of that hole with various symptoms of PTSD. Panic attacks. I don’t like crowds. Touch.” I met his gaze. “Strangers.”

Kane didn’t say anything, just waited, I guessed, to see if I’d finished. They always talk about returning military with PTSD, but they never mention the guys in prison. I imagine people thought they deserved what they got. “I don’t think I’d have made it if it wasn’t for her.”

“I get that,” Kane murmured, then stood. My eyes widened a little as he went to the button on his jeans, but he’d shucked them down before I got the chance to even say awhat the fuckin my head. And he turned his back, pulling up his shirt at the same time.

Then I understood what he was showing me. The myriad scars on the back of his right leg were horrific. Huge chunks of flesh and muscle had been gouged out. The scars continued up his ass and then to his back. It didn’t take rocket science to understand what the leg scars were. I could guess those had been made by teeth, but the scars on his back were different. I knew what it looked like tobe whipped, to be caned, and I forced the images back down, locking them in my mental box.

He dropped his shirt and pulled up his pants, but didn’t sit back down, just backed up to the dresser, as if he was waiting for me to condemn him.

I chose to ignore his back for the moment. It was likely he didn’t think I understood the difference and that it had all been made by teeth. “The dog?”

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