Page 17 of A Dead Man's Pulse
When the sound of the large, wooden lobby doors opening sounded throughout the silent club, they both glanced up the stairs but didn’t see anyone. It was probably Mitch or one of the employees coming in to do a stock inventory of the bar or store.
Turning back to the large cross, Roxy positioned herself, reared back, and with a flick of her wrist, let the whip slice through the air. Crack.
Again, the paper moved when struck, but she still hadn’t ripped it.
Crack.
“Cluuuuutcccchhhhh!”
What the fuck! Jake leaped from the chair as the terror-filled scream pierced the silence, and he ran for the stairs.
Behind him, Roxy dropped the whip to the stage floor. “My God, who is that?”
Jake didn’t know what was going on or who had screamed, but he prepared himself for anything. Reaching the top step, he found Reese frozen, his eyes seeing something that wasn’t there—something horrific that had taken him far away from where he stood.
Fuck a duck!
Familiar with veterans who suffered from PTSD and with the retired Marine’s history, Jake approached cautiously. “Reese.” No verbal answer, but the man’s gaze flickered in his direction, so Jake tried again. “Cowboy, it’s Jake. You okay?”
“Nooooooooo!” Reese roared and then swung his fist.
Thankfully, Jake was fast on his feet and had been ready for it. He brought his arm up, blocking the punch. “Reese!”
But the other man’s traumatic experience still had him gripped in its talons. He lunged at Jake, tackling him to the floor. Jake struggled to get the upper hand and fend off the attack, all the while trying not to hurt Reese unless it became necessary. As they rolled around on the carpeted floor, knocking over a few chairs and pub tables, Jake saw Roxy breach the top stairs. “Stay back! PTS—oomph.” Reese had gotten a good shot to his opponent’s left kidney.
Rolling to the right, Jake took Reese with him and then used a wrestling move to flip the man over so that he could restrain him in a tight hold. Jake’s arms went under Reese’s before clasping his hands behind the man’s neck. He then wrapped his long legs around Reese’s, pinning him in place. The struggling continued, but Jake had the controlling advantage. “Roxy! Get back! He’s having a flashback!”
The pediatrician ignored his order and knelt next to the two men. It took Jake a moment to realize she had a wet bar towel in her hand and was running it over the exposed skin of Reese’s arms, neck, and face.
“Easy,” she cooed softly. “Come back to Tampa . . . you’re safe here. What’s his name, again? I only met him once.”
Jake felt Reese’s struggling wane a bit, but his lungs heaved for oxygen. “Logan Reese. Or use his nickname, ‘Cowboy.’ Just be careful.”
“Logan . . . you’re safe . . . you’re with friends . . . it’s okay . . . come back, Cowboy.” As the good doctor talked the man down, the tightness of his muscles eased marginally. “That’s it . . . you’re safe, Cowboy. You’re not in that bad place anymore. You’re in Tampa, among friends.”
Reese finally stilled, and then Jake’s heart clenched as a sob broke loose from the man’s chest. With caution, Jake relaxed his grip. When it appeared the worst was over, he released Reese, who was still taking in gulps of air with his eyes closed, and rolled to a sitting position, trying to catch his own breath. Roxy continued to run the towel over heated skin, all the while murmuring that everything was okay.
Seconds ticked by. When Reese opened his eyes, Roxy’s gaze met his, and she smiled radiantly. “Hi, Logan. Remember me? My name’s Roxanne, and I’m a physician. Are you okay now?”
Swallowing hard, Reese stared at her a moment, then at Jake. Horror and embarrassment flared in his eyes, and his face was coated in sweat and flushed with exertion. “That depends. Did I hurt anybody?”
Jake snorted as he got to his feet, trying to hide how sore his left side was—Reese didn’t need guilt topping off all his other emotions right now. “Like I’d ever let a jarhead get the best of me.” Holding out a hand, he helped Roxy up first and then extended it to Reese, who paused before accepting it. “What happened?”
Well, it was clear he’d had a post-traumatic episode, but what had brought it on, only he knew.
Running his hands down his face, Reese inhaled deeply. “I-I’m not sure. I . . . um . . . came here to get you for Colleen.” He gestured toward the double doors. “I came in . . . and . . .” A flash of confusion crossed his face, then his eyes lit up. “A-a crack . . . like a whip . . .”
Roxy cursed under her breath. Jake knew it wasn’t her fault—neither of them had any way of knowing Reese would walk in and have the reaction he did. But Jake also knew why the sound of the whip had set the former POW off. “That’s exactly what you heard. We were practicing. Has that happened before?”
“Not in a few months,” Reese said while shaking his head. “And usually, it’s when I’m asleep and have a nightmare. I’ve heard things that have sounded similar to—to a whip, but I never went completely out like that. It’s also not a common thing to hear most of the time.”
Striding behind the bar, Jake grabbed three bottles of water from the cooler. After handing one each to Roxy and Reese, he cracked open the last one and guzzled half of it. His mind played back the past few minutes, and an idea came to him. However, there was one thing he had to say before anything else. “Cowboy, first off, you know you have to let Ian, Dev, and your team leaders know what just happened.”
If Reese didn’t, Jake would. He hated being a snitch, but if it happened again, it could put the man’s teammates at risk.
Reese didn’t look happy about that, but after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor in defeat. “I know.”
“Good. And don’t worry—I think Ian’s surprised you haven’t had a moment like this since you joined the team.” He paused. “I may have an idea that might help you, but first, we have to talk to Trudy.” Jake knew Reese had been seeing Dr. Dunbar, who was a long-time friend of his. He wanted to run the potential plan by the psychologist before suggesting it to Reese. It might be risky, but it also might just work.
