Page 63 of Fighting for Valor
Jessup found me through the pharmacy. Ordering all three of my prescriptions together was too easy to trace. He grabbed me when I was asleep, dragged me to the balcony, and tried to throw me over. He said he was sorry. Sorry? Really? I don’t even know who this Richards is. Or how to find out. I was so lucky. I should have died, not just broken my arm and ended up with a concussion.
A few pages later, I find a detailed accounting of every penny she’s spent.
New identity - Cara Barrett: $1500
Backup identity - Carrie Barstow: $1500
Doctor (Leland’s friend): $2000
Bus ticket to Seattle: $212
All of it. Her meds. The deposit on her apartment. Rent. Clothing from Goodwill. The occasional bottle of wine. Drinks with someone named Lindsey.
“Wren?” As I wait for her to respond, I page to the end of Cara’s notebook and start writing down all the various banks I can remember.
“Go,” she says.
“There’s a name in Cara’s notebook that might be something. She got a call from a Leland Steel a couple of days ago. It spooked her. I started looking into the guy, but then everything went sideways.” After I rattle off this Leland’s number, I disconnect without signing off and keep writing.
I have to remember. Everything. If I don’t, Cara’s dead. And I can’t let that happen.
West brings back burgers and fries at 5:00 p.m. Cara’s been gone for six hours now, and every minute that passes, my anxiety climbs higher.
I remember now. Most of it, anyway. All the women I made disappear. All the shipments of guns, heroin, opium, and cocaine Faruk financed.
Three hundred million and change. That’s all I’ve been able to account for, but every few minutes, I find another cache. I can do this.
“You managing, Rip?” West asks as he sits across from me and unwraps a double cheeseburger.
“Haven’t offed myself yet.”
“Say anything like that again, I’m calling Ry.” With the burger halfway to his mouth, West pins me with a stare that could melt glass.
SEALs are the scariest fucks in the world. There’s something that happens to you in BUD/S. Had a few friends who were SEALs before Hell. I don’t know if they’re even still alive, but they all got that same look in their eyes.
“Calm down, frogman. It’s a joke. You remember those, right?”
West raises a brow at his shirt. “If I didn’t, do you think I’d be wearing this monstrosity?”
“Good point.” Reaching for my own burger, I pause. Are they feeding Cara? Why would they? I give serious thought to tossing the whole thing in the trash, but she needs me to be at my best.
“So?” He’s not going to let this go. I can hear it in his voice.
“You want the truth? If I had a time machine, could go back six years, and find a way to kill myself before Faruk started in on me, I would. But since no one bothered to invent something like that while I was being drugged and brainwashed and beaten, the only thing I can do is try to make up for all the bad shit he had me do. And get Cara back so I can tell her how fucking sorry I am that I ever got her into this.”
The burger tastes a lot like dust, but it’s fuel. And once Cara’s back with me—and feels up to it—I’m taking her out to the best fucking restaurant in Seattle.
West stares off over my shoulder as he chews and swallows, then meets my gaze again. “I watched that fucker die.”
“Faruk?” I don’t even want to say his name, but if I don’t, it gives him more power in death than he should have ever had in life.
“Yeah. Graham and I were on Alpha Team. Infiled with Ry. He headed for a barn. Some dog trapped inside.”
At my feet, Charlie’s dreaming, and I reach down and give his chest a rub.
After a swig of water, West continues. “We killed twelve of his men. I took down ten. Graham got the other two. Kid never saw much combat. I try to protect him when I can.”
“He’s the one who looked like he was eighteen?” I don’t remember a lot from the first couple of days after they rescued me. Faces. Panic. Pain.
