Page 5 of Jacques

With one last look over her shoulder at the group of men in khaki, Danny hurried out the back side of the tent and walked to the delivery truck that had been parked there earlier. She climbed the ramp, walked to the rear and sat on the cool metal floor behind a mound of beer cases.

Only then did she give in to the panic attack.

At first, she shivered, her body breaking out in gooseflesh, though it had to be eighty degrees inside the back of the truck.

Danny wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them up to her chest. She rocked as the shivers grew more violent.

Inhale. Exhale.

Again.

Inhale. Exhale.

Focus on something that makes you happy.

In her head, she repeated her therapist’s instructions, hoping to arrest the panic before it consumed her, before she sank into the murky and chaotic memories that were all she had of the incident that had changed her Army career, her life and her ability to trust any man.

No matter how many times she inhaled and exhaled, she couldn’t...stop...the...descent into darkness.

She’d just earned her Ranger tab. Not many women could claim that kind of success after surviving the brutal training that had made her a US Army Ranger. She’d joined the others of her training unit at a local pub to celebrate their victory before shipping out to their first assignments.

They’d sat around telling their training “war” stories, laughing and commiserating over the hardships of the training they’d endured to reach their goal.

She’d had one beer—only one—not wanting to wake up with a hangover the next day as she shipped out.

One minute she’d been laughing with her team.

What felt like moments later, she’d floated in and out of a dark haze, crushed by a heavy weight on a bed in what appeared to be a hotel room. When she’d tried to struggle, her limbs refused to respond. A blurry face had loomed over hers. She couldn’t make out his features, just felt his naked body on hers.

“No,” she’d said, in barely a whisper. Again, she tried to struggle.

“Easy, soldier,” he’d said against her ear. Hot breath stirred her hair.

“No,” she repeated. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye as he slammed into her.

Even through the haze, the warrior inside her had screamed to fight. However, no amount of willpower would lift her arms or move her legs. Though she hadn’t been tied down, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t resist.

When it was over, he’d leaned over her and whispered, “As far as you’re concerned, this never happened. If you even think otherwise, your brother’s career ends the day you open your mouth.”

Danny had woken in her own hotel room, dressed in her clothes, minus panties, sore and bruised, her face and body red from beard burn, with very little memory of what had happened and no idea who’d done it. She’d curled into the fetal position and laid there for how long, she didn’t know. Dying would have been a relief and an option.

“Danny,” a voice cut through the darkness. “Hey.” A hand touched her arm.

Danny shrank back. “Don’t. Please. Don’t,” she said in a ragged whisper.

The hand left her arm.

“Danny, it’s me, Jacques,” the voice sounded again.

Sweet, kind and generous Jacques.

“Why are you in my room?” she whispered.

“I’m not,” he said. “Danny, open your eyes. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t,” she said, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” Jacques said. “At least open your eyes and see where you are.”