Page 19 of Damned
Chapter Ten
Kruze leaned against the warm metallic skin of the mighty Black Hawk that had saved his sorry ass. God, he loved the Air Force. The sun radiating off the metal bird would soon be hotter than blazes, but for now, after that chilly ride, it was damned comforting.
His buddy, First Sergeant Bacchus had moved away from the side-door with him, but Kee-rist. How Bacchus could talk. The man was one steady monologue after another. No dialogue, just output. It was impossible to get a word in edgewise. Hence Kruze’s need for something to lean against while he listened to yet another tall tale of high adventure here in the middle of no-damned-where.
As the man droned on, Kruze sucked in a long satisfying breath of a job-well-done. She might not appreciate it, but Bree was free now. She might need a few months or years of professional counseling, and she’d always suffer with PTSD, but she had her life back. All that was left was for him to tell her goodbye and maybe get her phone number. That’d be nice.
When at last Bacchus took a breath, and before he launched into another installment of Air Force life at Incirlik, Kruze pushed away from the helo and said, “I need a few words with the lady. You mind?”
Both Bacchus’s hands came up. “Oh, no, sure. No problem. See you inside for the debrief.”
Kruze shook his head. “Not likely. I don’t debrief anyone. All I need from you guys is a seat on the next plane to Istanbul. I’ll see you around.”
With Bacchus out of his way, he turned on the ball of his foot, ready to climb back inside to speak with Bree. But the helo was empty, its rotors completely powered down. The only thing she’d left behind was his leather jacket. Well, damn. The PJs had already taken her inside. Okay then. Kruze snagged the jacket and his gear and hoofed it into the nearest hangar. He asked the first airman he met where she’d been taken.
“Sure thing. That must be the lady the guys from the 39thMedical Group are treating. See the marked walkway to the rear exit?” The airman pointed to his far right. “It’ll take you out of this hangar into an adjoining admin building. The ambulance is parked at their front door.”
“Treating her for what?”
“I heard something about a heart problem, but…” He shrugged. “Privacy rules. You’ll have to ask her.”
“Excuse me, Agent Sinclair!” First Sergeant Bacchus yelled from the wide-open hangar door. “Got a C-130 coming north from Israel for a quick pit-stop. My buddy’s part of their flight crew. They’re on their way to Ramstein, but they’ll drop you off in Istanbul.”
Kruze yelled back, “I’m good going to Ramstein. What’s their ETA?”
“They’re landing now, and they’re not staying long. You in?”
Kruze looked to the door that led out of the hangar, wondering if he had time to speak with Bree. If he could even find her. He didn’t usually linger once he delivered his HVTs to safety, but Bree? She was different. He needed to see her again. Wanted to see her.
“How much time do I have?” he called back at Bacchus, who was now gesturing for him to hurry up and get going.
“Twenty, maybe thirty minutes, tops. They’re just dropping off a few pallets of equipment. Won’t be on the ground long.”
“Great. I’ll be right back. Don’t let them leave without me!” Kruze yelled. Determined to have one last minute with Bree, he exited the hangar and ran through the adjoining admin building. At the far end, at another open doorway, strapped to a gurney lay Bree. They were wheeling her out. Kruze ran. He just needed a few gawddamned seconds.
By the time he made it down the hall, the doors were shut. He shoved them open in time to see her being loaded into the base ambulance. His heart skipped up his throat.
“Wait! Wait up!” Kruze ran. He arrived at the ambulance just as the medic clamped a hand on the rear gate to close it. “Kee-rist, I said wait!” He would have this last moment with Bree, damn it.
She was on her back, bundled in a blanket with a cannula stuck in her nose. She looked so damned small and pale. Kruze knew he was in the way. Bree was thoroughly exhausted, dehydrated, and terribly underweight. She needed medical help. He’d done his part. He should leave. But he couldn’t.
Lifting her head, her pale-blue eyes widened when they landed on him. She slipped the cannula away from her face. “Kruze? What’s wrong?”
“I have to leave,” he told her, breathless from the run, his heart racing, why, he wasn’t exactly sure.
“Yes, I know,” she said tiredly. Her head fell back on the pillow, and her gaze hit the ambulance ceiling. That sounded so cut and dried, so final.
“I just wanted to tell you…” What? God, he felt like a snot-nosed schoolboy with a crush on his teacher. Kruze had no idea why he was standing there, only knew he’d needed to see Bree one last time.
“Goodbye, Kruze,” she whispered.
Like an idiot without a single working brain cell in his head, he climbed up and knelt at her side. Wordless. He was an idiot with stage fright, his mouth dry, and his heart pounding.
Bree raised one slender, chapped hand and cupped his jaw. The tiny pad of her thumb stroked his bearded chin. God, he could’ve knelt there all day worshipping her if she kept doing that.
Until she asked, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Her voice was so small and so faint, he had to lean in to catch it. He took careful hold of her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Bree? I mean, I know you’re in bad shape, but… but… you’re not dying, are you?” She looked so small against the Air Force blue blanket. For her to die now would kill him.
