Page 4 of Protecting Josie
He knew they were just getting started. He understood how being a POW worked. He’d been trained for thismoment. It sucked, and no Navy SEAL ever wanted to be in his position, but he wouldn’t crack.
It took longer than he’d hoped, but eventually his captors got bored, or tired, or needed to do something else. He didn’t know which, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting a reprieve. Blink had no doubt they’d start up again soon, but it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t tell these assholes anything about the planned extraction point of his team or if there were any other HVTs the SEALs were hunting.
They’d managed to break a finger or two, split his lip open, and the cigarette burns on his ankles and feet hurt like a bitch, but nothing they’d done would keep him from being able to walk when the time came. Even the wounds on the bottom of his feet wouldn’t prevent him from getting the hell out of there. Trust in the fact that he’d be rescued helped Blink compartmentalize what was happening to him physically.
Thinking about the woman in the cell next to his also kept his mind occupied while he was beaten. Why was she in that cell? How long had she been there? Where was she from?
He had too many questions and no answers. He was impatient to be taken back to his cell. Not to lick his wounds or to sleep, but to talk to the woman.
Blink made sure to groan extra loud when he was dropped once more onto the floor of his cell, but his eyes immediately sought out the woman he’d gotten a glimpse of earlier.
She was in the same place. Didn’t look like she’d moved even one inch. Huddled in a little ball, her knees up, arms around them, pressed into the corner. And like earlier, she was staring at him as if she could see right through to all hisinnermost thoughts. Her blue eyes bore into his own as he was once more locked into his cell.
None of his captors even looked in her direction as they left the room, shutting the door behind them, which Blink thought was odd. It made him want to know what her deal was even more.
A pained moan escaped as he shifted on the hard floor. He closed his eyes for a moment as he took stock of his injuries. He ached all over, but he’d live. Live to be tortured another day, which he was sure was the goal. But every day that passed was one closer to rescue. Blink knew that down to his toes. Help was coming, he just had to hang on until it arrived.
“I’m Blink,” he told the woman, his voice seeming to echo in the room around him. “My name is actually Nate, but people call me Blink.”
He waited but got no response.
“What’s your name?”
Still nothing.
He sighed. “Can you understand me?”
Blink waited…and then he got it. A nod so slight, some people might’ve mistaken it as nothing more than the woman adjusting slightly. But he took it for what it was, an acknowledgement of his words.
He was elated, even as he felt sorry for her. And while he hated that she was in this situation—and obviously had been for a long while, if her appearance was any indication—he was even more curious, now that he knew she understood English. Whowasshe? How did she get here?
But he didn’t expect to get any answers. Not right now, at least. She was obviously traumatized, which wasn’t a surprise.This was no place for anyone, much less a woman as slight as her. She looked like a stiff breeze could knock her over. He hadn’t missed the way her collarbones protruded from her skin. The way her cheeks were hollowed. How her arms clasped her knees so tightly they seemed to be the only things holding her together.
Blink made a decision—he wasn’t leaving her. Rescuers wouldn’t be expecting to liberate a second person, but in no way was he the type of man who would leave any living being in this shit hole.
The longer he lay there on the cold, hard floor, the more his body throbbed. He would kill for some water right about now. Or even one of the crappy MREs that he’d been eating for the last week. But his captors obviously weren’t concerned about feeding him.
He shifted on the floor and grimaced. Looking back over at the woman, he could barely make her out in the darkness, but he saw she hadn’t moved. Not even an inch. She was still looking in his direction as if waiting for something.
The possibility that their cells were being monitored occurred to him, but as he looked around, he didn’t see any blinking lights indicating cameras. And judging by the condition of the place, he wasn’t sure the men who’d nabbed him had a terribly sophisticated security system, which would work in his favor when help came.
Still, he wouldn’t discount the idea that they were being watched. He wanted to talk to the woman. Wanted to put her at ease. But he couldn’t tell her that help was coming. That the tracker Tex had insisted he wear was still safe and secure inside the waistband of his underwear.
“As I said before…I’m Nate. I don’t know about you, but I’d kill for a huge cup of coffee. No, a caramel macchiato. I know, that’s not usually a drink you’d think a guy would like, but I’m addicted to the things. Besides, it’s caramel…who doesn’t like that? My friend, Safe, he makes thebestcoffee. He has one of those fancy machines you see in coffee shops right in his house. The first time I went to his place and he fired that thing up, I almost knocked my other friends out of the way to get to the first cup of coffee. Oh, and you know what else I miss?”
Blink was talking more to himself than the woman; it was comforting to hear something other than the oppressive silence or his captors yelling at him in a language he didn’t understand.
“Cheetos. Not the puffy kind, those are gross, but the real thing. The small, hard, crunchy bits. Flash makes fun of me for liking that crap, but I could live on them. Okay, probably not, because they’re full of stuff that isn’t good for me, but there’s nothing like sitting on the couch watching football and getting my fingers all orange from eating those things.”
It was ironic that Blink was in a situation where he had to do all the talking. He wasn’t a talker. Never had been. But as he spoke, he swore he could see the woman across from him relaxing a fraction. As if his voice was comforting. Hell, she probably hadn’t heard a friendly voice since she’d been thrown in this hellhole.
So he continued talking. About nothing. Stupid shit. But he couldn’t seem to stop. It was as if a dam had broken.
“I have a twin brother. His name is Tate. Yes—Nate and Tate. Ridiculous, but what can you do? My mom left when wewere young. Around four. Said she couldn’t handle being a wife and mother anymore. When my dad got home from work, she met him at the door with her suitcase in hand and told him she was leaving. And that was it. She was gone.
“My dad though, he’s amazing. I know it wasn’t easy being left with two rambunctious four-year-old boys. We were hellions. I mean, I don’t remember much from that time, but Tate and I competed with each other all the time, abouteverything. Who could eat the fastest, who could do their homework the fastest, who could fall asleep first, who would lose their first tooth…it went on and on. He liked the Dallas Cowboys, so I decided I liked the Pittsburgh Steelers. I joined the swim team, and he decided to become a runner. We were total opposites, and would do whatever we could to one-up each other. But he’s also my best friend.”
Blink stared up at the ceiling of his cell, watching the darker shadows move and shift above him. Thinking about his brother. He wondered where he was right that second. Whether he knew Blink had been captured. Probably not officially, but as many twins did, they had a connection. Many people would dismiss it as wishful thinking, but when Tate broke his arm when he was eight, Blink had known about it the second it happened. When Blink was in a car accident when he was seventeen, Tate had beaten him to the hospital.
