Page 35 of Protecting Josie
They were led to a door where someone was standing at attention. The man saluted the officer leading them, then opened the door. The official-ness of his actions made Josie nervous. There was obviously someone important in the room. Someone who would judge her for her actions, and possibly decide she was…what? A liability? A spy? An idiot? She wasn’t sure what to think anymore.
Nate didn’t let go of her hand, but he did salute the man sitting at a round table with a laptop in front of him. He was wearing a white uniform that looked squeaky clean…which made Josie feel all the more grubby.
“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the chairs across from him.
Kevlar entered the room with them and took a chair on one side of her, while Nate sat on the other.
As soon as Josie sat, she immediately stood back up and looked at the chair. It had an upholstered tan seat, and the thought of contaminating it with her stinky self was abhorrent. Without any other choice, she dropped the blanket from around her shoulders and arranged it over the chair carefully, then sat again.
When she did, she saw everyone’s eyes on her. Swallowing hard, she shrugged awkwardly and did her best not to hyperventilate.
“Right, so…tell me what happened, Blink. And don’t leave anything out,” the admiral ordered.
Without hesitation, Nate began. He talked about events Josie didn’t understand, but they were obviously why he’d been in Iran in the first place. His tone was almost unemotional as he explained how he was captured and tortured. He also explained how he knew help would come—because of the tracker he wore—and that when Kevlar and his team arrived, he delayed his rescue so they could get Josie out too.
He made everything they’d been through sound so…casual. As if being held down while someone poured water over his towel-covered face was normal, and not a big deal at all. His description of being shot at while being hoisted into the helicopter, and the chopper getting hit by that missile and crashing in the mountains, was like an everyday occurrence. She was beginning to think for him, it probably was.
“And you?” the admiral asked, turning his attention to Josie.
She sat up straighter instinctively.
“I want to know how the hell you ended up in a prison cell in Iran. And why we didn’t know anything about you being there.”
Josie opened her mouth, but of course nothing came out. Thankfully, Nate was there to speak for her. Like his own, he made her story sound much more ordinary than it was. Evensheknew it wasn’t normal for an American to vacation in Kuwait.
“Specialist Ayden Hitson? His body was discovered the day after he went missing. You claim you were on a boat with him?”
There was so much suspicion in his tone, Josie was almost offended. Whyshouldn’tshe have been with him? Did he actually doubt her story? Did he thinkshekilled Ayden? Visions of sitting in another cell, this time somewhere deep inside this ship, threatened to overwhelm her.
Without thought, she pointed at his laptop and snapped her fingers impatiently.
“What?” the admiral asked.
“She wants to use your laptop,” Nate said in a bright voice. It almost sounded as if he was amused, but Josie was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She had to get this man to believe her. And she needed words in order to do that.
The admiral clicked some buttons, probably closing out sensitive documents or something, before pushing the laptop over to her.
Josie was amazed that he’d done as she asked, but she didn’t hesitate. She put her fingers on the keyboard, feeling normal for the first time in ages, clicked on the Word icon, then began to type.
“Fuck,” Nate said with a small chuckle as her fingers flew over the keys.
“The girl can type,” Kevlar commented dryly.
Josie barely heard them. She was too busy typing out exactly how she’d ended up in that cell in Iran.
Back home, she was a caption editor. She wrote the text that appeared on TV screens during movies and shows. She was known for her accuracy and being able to caption live shows. Her typing speed worked in her favor now. In ten minutes, she had over fifteen hundred words and her entire story typed out.
She explained how she’d been talked into going to Kuwait, how Ayden dismissed her concerns about going on a boat ride, how cocky he’d been while speeding around and showing off. Then how everything happened so fast, and they hadn’t even been given a chance to explain how they’d ended up in Iranian waters. She told the admiral how scared she’d been when Ayden was shot and thrown overboard, and when she’d been hauled onboard the Iranians’ boat and thrown into the prison cell. Explained about getting beaten, the occasional scrap of bread she’d occasionally been given, then absolutely nothing but the water that dripped into her cell thereafter.
She told him everything as succinctly as possible, hoping against hope she’d be allowed to stay with Nate.
Kevlar and Nate both read over her shoulders while she typed, so when she finished and pushed the laptop back toward the admiral, they already knew what she had to say.
“Fuck, Josie,” Nate said, resting his forehead against her temple. She closed her eyes, waiting for the admiral’s judgement.
It didn’t take long.
“I’m very sorry for what you went through, Ms. England. My staff will need to look into this, check with the hotel and airlines to verify your story, but I can tell by looking at you that you’ve been through hell, and I find no reason to doubt you. You’re a very lucky young woman. Not many people have been where you have and lived to talk about it. I’m guessing you don’t want the press to get a hold of your story?”
