Page 40 of Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team)

“Shredded.” Honestly, Nate didn’t know how Blackwell was even hanging in there at this point. The guy had barely slept since Summer had been taken. He was functioning, steady on the job when they were out on recon, but barely himself. Both DeLuca and Tuck were keeping a close eye on him.

“God, I feel horrible for them both.”

“Yeah, it sucks.” Classic Taya. Worried about others when she’d just been put through an emotional meat-grinder herself. He put a knuckle beneath her chin, tipped it upward so that she met his gaze. “What about you?”

Staring up at him with those pretty gray eyes, she gave a half-shrug. “I’m okay. It was just hard, dredging up all those things. All the memories again.”

“I’ll bet.” Traumatic memories like that and the flashbacks they brought made everything feel fresh and raw, as though it had all just happened rather than years ago.

Taya knew that better than anyone. And yet she hadn’t hesitated to come here and help, even knowing what she’d face. Was it any wonder why he loved her so much? “I heard the director said you’ve been a big help so far.”

“I don’t feel like I did much. Mostly just identifying people and the connections between them. I saw…two men who were part of Qureshi’s inner circle while I was captive. In a way it was therapeutic, I guess, but looking at them in the flesh again even via video call was really hard.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“If it helped the analysts at all, then I don’t mind. Just wish I could be more of a help and find out something that would tell them where Summer and the others are being held. From what I found out today about his predilection for torture, Tarek Hadad sounds like he’s pure evil.”

“I know.” Anyone capable of torturing innocents the way he reportedly did meant he was a formidable enemy. Negotiations would never work. The only way to stop him was to kill him.

But Nate didn’t want to think about any of that right now. Not with Taya all warm and pliant in his arms.

He lowered himself into the armchair and tugged her down into his lap, cuddling her to him. He didn’t want to talk about any of this; he’d rather push it all aside for now and lose himself in her. Because all this shit would be right there waiting for them when they woke up in the morning.

He stroked a hand over the thick, curly mass of her hair and breathed in her fresh, clean scent. Neither one of them said anything, just soaking in the comfort of being close to one another. She was only a few years older than him, but her emotional maturity made her seem wise beyond her years. The result of having survived the hell she’d gone through.

Even after a shitty day like this one, her mere presence still calmed him. She had a way of making the rest of the world disappear just by being in the same room as him.

Glancing down at the journal, he looked at the new lines she’d penned tonight. “You want to talk about it?” he offered, his lips against her hair.

The journal writing helped them both, a lot. He’d first tried it at her suggestion months ago and had been surprised at how therapeutic it was. It had really helped him to mentally file the ugly memories in the past, where they belonged, allowing him to move forward.

She lifted a shoulder. “Not really. Just…seeing those faces and hearing the voices of some of Qureshi’s fighters again was hard. It brought back a lot of things I’d rather forget.”

He made a low sound and kept stroking her hair, understanding perfectly. The truth was, he’d been struggling somewhat with his PTSD issues again since landing in Amman, and fighting like hell not to let it show. The team had enough to worry about without feeling like they needed to keep an eye on him too.

He wasn’t sure what had triggered it. Something about the climate over here maybe, about being back in a place where the Islamic call to prayer rang out across the city, had put him instantly on edge the moment he’d walked out of the airport.

He’d been working hard to slay his personal demons these past months, journaling and seeing a therapist periodically about the mission from hell when he’d lost a close friend back in Afghanistan.

She lifted her head and looked up at him, the pale scars on the left side of her neck and jaw silvery in the lamplight. Looking at them, he was struck by a wave of gratitude. They both went through hell in Afghanistan, Taya more than him.

But if they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have met and he wouldn’t be holding her right now. So even though he sometimes still had nightmares about losing O’Neil, he didn’t regret all of it.

She put her head back on his shoulder. When she didn’t say anything for a long time, her breathing slow and even, he thought she might be asleep.

But when he glanced down he saw that her eyes were open, staring off into space across the room. Lost in memories he knew she’d never be able to forget.

He could definitely help distract her from them, however, at least right now.

Cupping her jaw in one hand, he brought her gaze to his. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he told her. And the soft weight of her in his lap was having predictable results. It had only been six days since he’d last seen her, been inside her, but it felt like a lot longer. He craved her with a power he’d never known was possible until the day she’d reappeared in his life.

She gave him a smile full of understanding and rubbed her cheek against his palm, the kittenish move making him want to nuzzle and kiss her all over. “Me too. I just wish we could find her.”

“We all do. And we will find her.” Every last person involved with the case was aware that the odds of finding Summer were already slim, and getting slimmer with each passing hour. He seriously didn’t know what the hell they were going to do if she didn’t make it. God, and poor Blackwell would…

He slammed that door in his mind shut before he could finish that thought and focused on Taya. The way she smelled. The way she was nuzzling his chest and how it made his dick throb.

The room was quiet, the air around them suddenly charged with anticipation. Staring into Taya’s eyes he felt that deep, unshakable connection between them snap into place. It centered him, helped banish the ghosts swirling around the edges of his consciousness. He wanted to do the same for her.

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