Page 45 of Into the Gray Zone

I held up my hands and said, “I don’t know. For whatever reason, those men cut into my scab. The one that keeps me normal. I just... wanted to smash them.”

She stared into my eyes for a moment, then said, “Can you control it? Like you did before?”

“Of course I can. I always have.”

She continued staring, her eyes boring into mine, and it was disconcerting, because she knew I was lying. She said, “I used to think I had the ability to keep you from going berserk. From letting the beast go free. Now I’m not so sure.”

She and I had had long conversations about my inner demons, and we’d labeled my inability to control myself “the beast.” It was something inside of me that she tried to understand. She knew intimately about the death of my family and what it had done to my psyche. She’d seen up close and personal what I could do when I let the beast free, but she’d been able to keep it contained simply by trusting me, which led to me trusting her and the beast going back into its cave. It really hadn’t reared its head again until Amena, and when it had, it had been brutal. The men it was directed against deserved it, but my actions had frightened even me.

Every time it showed its head, I wondered if I was a hero saving lives for the greater good, or simply a psychopath leveraging my position to kill. And whether such a distinction even mattered.

I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but the beast was still there, looking for a release, poking at the cage walls to find a seam. It scared me that it had come calling during a simple mugging, but I wasn’t going to let Jennifer know that.

I said, “Honey, come on. It’s not like that. The assault ended up okay. I didn’t kill anyone, for Christ’s sake.”

She kept staring at me for another heartbeat, then said, “You have issues, and you’re too big of a coward to admit it. Your brain saw something else in that mugging, and your body followed. You’re letting the beast control your actions.”

Without saying it, she was telling me I had PTSD, and that aggravated the hell out of me. I wasn’t like the average soldier. PTSD didn’t factor in my world. At least that’s what I told myself.

I snapped, “That’s bullshit and you know it. All I did was keep us from getting mugged, and you’re turning it into some psychobabble bullshit, like I need to go to a head farm or something.”

She heard my tone and said, “Okay, Pike, okay. But when you feel the beast breaking free, when you want to satisfy it, I want you to look at me.”

“What the hell does that mean? ‘Look at you,’ like you’re some sort of Buddhist sensei?”

Now completely serious, without an ounce of humor, she said, “Yes, that’s what I am. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”

I wanted to tell her to pack sand, that I didn’t need any help controlling my demons, but I knew she was right. She’d been telling me to seek counseling for years, and I hadn’t. Now she was the one doing the counseling.

I said, “Yes. I can do that.”

She smiled and said, “Good. Maybe I’ll keep you out of a prison.”

She went to get her purse and I said, “Therewasno prison, damn it. Nobody locked us up. It was just a mugging.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder and said, “I’m not talking about one with physical walls.”

I heard a knock at the door, and she said, “We’re not done here.”

Relieved, I went to it, saying, “Okay, okay. We’re done for a little while anyway.”

I opened it to see Knuckles standing there, out of his T-shirt and flip-flops, now wearing a pair of khaki pants and a loose button-up short-sleeve shirt.

I said, “So you can meet with the head of the CIA looking like a beach bum, but when it comes to Nadia, you have to shave?”

Indignant, he said, “The Hyatt Club has a dress code. That’s all it is.”

I smirked, turned to Jennifer, and said, “You ready?”

She nodded and said, “I wish you’d take the time to change clothes for me.”

Jesus Christ. Can I do anything right?

We left our room and wandered through the grounds, dodging the golf carts driving around until we reached the Hyatt Club. Like before, we had to show our room key to prove we were allowed to enter, and took a seat in the corner. Unlike before, I never had to tell anyone what we wanted to drink, as Nadia came over with a tray, dressed yet again like a Hyatt employee.

She set the drinks on our table, then said, “You guys had a little trouble today, huh?”

I said, “How would you know that?”

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