“I have an interview scheduled for later today with the regional VA director, and then I’ll be ready to pull it together.” Laura had never quite gotten the hang of thinking in column inches. She did a bit of mental math. “It will be a good twenty inches.”
“What about photos?” That was Syd.
Joaquin answered. “I’ve got shots of most of the soldiers she’s interviewed as well as the PTSD coordinator.”
“Carmichael—your turn. What’s the latest on the bombing investigation and last Thursday’s shooting?”
“That depends.” The camera moved until Laura found herself looking at Alex, who had a black eye and lacerations on his cheek. “Any word from the DPD as to whether yesterday’s shooting of your SEAL friend is related to the attacks on you?”
He already knew.
“No.”
Alex looked directly into the lens. “Are you sure about that?”
“Of course, I’m sure.”
“I’d really hate it if some other paper scooped us on any of these stories because you held out on your own coworkers.”
Laura’s face flamed. “If I knew something and sharing it wouldn’t place my life or his in danger, I would tell you. In this case, I haven’t heard anything. The shooter might have been just a random psycho.”
She understood now why Alex got punched in the face so often.
Alex looked up at Tom. “Javier Corbray, the SEAL who’s shacking up at Laura’s, was shot yesterday in broad daylight on Nineteenth Street between Chestnut and Wewatta. Minor wound. Corbray fired back and killed his assailant with two slugs to the chest. DPD is being very close-lipped about it. Also, my sources with the FBI says they’re getting close to making an arrest in the bombing.”
“What?” Laura hadn’t heard that. “Who told you that?”
But Alex ignored her. “I’m looking at six inches on both pieces.”
Laura was glad when the meeting was over. She walked to her bedroom to finish dressing, then found Javier sitting in his running pants on the sofa staring out the window at the mountains, his cell phone on the coffee table across from him.
She sat beside him. “Did your commander call?”
He shook his head, one hand coming to rest on her thigh. “I called him. I decided it was better he hear it from me than the newspapers.”
That made sense.
“What did he say?”
“He wants me to fly back to Coronado this afternoon.”
Laura felt the color drain from her face. She stood, turned her back to him, walked to the kitchen. “So . . . you’re leaving.”
“Laura, I—”
“It’s probably for the best. Since you got here, you’ve been filmed and photographed, had your name in the paper. You’ve been shot at—twice. You were almost killed yesterday.” She averted her gaze, not wanting him to see how upset she was. She’d never cared for women who used their emotions to blackmail. Javier needed to do what was right for him without pressure from her. “You came to Colorado to recover, not to get sucked into my mess.”
“I did not get
She stared at him. “But your commander—”
“He didn’t give me an order. It was more like a strong suggestion.”
“A suggestion?” Laura shook her head. “I don’t want you putting your career on the line for me. You’ve already done so much for—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m staying here with you until my leave is up.”
Laura sank into his open arms and held on tight, hoping with all of her heart he wouldn’t have a reason to regret his decision.
JAVIER LOOKED OUT over the rooftops of Denver, trying not to feel anything as he spoke. “We came across a shepherd and his two sons on our way in. You know the choice—kill them or let them live and risk them giving us away. I did what I felt was right. We gave them chocolate and water, even fixed blisters on one boy’s foot. The moment we left, they must have hightailed it to the village. We were ambushed by Taliban fighters. Eighteen men died.”
“You can’t blame yourself.” Nate stood beside him in his fleece barn jacket, cowboy hat pulled low to keep the wind from catching it. “I’d have done the same thing. Most of us would.”
Nate had called shortly after Javier and Laura had finished breakfast to say he’d heard about the shooting and was on his way over. The two of them had retreated to the rooftop so as not to distract Laura, who was still on the clock.
“That’s what I tell myself.” He’d been telling himself that for more than five months. “My squad agreed with my decision. No one wanted to put a bullet through those kids, man. The boys couldn’t have been much older than nine or ten. But then I see that helo flying in, getting blown to bits along with medics inside . . . They died trying to save our lives.”
He could still hear the rotors, feel the blast wave, smell the burning fuel oil.
“I tried to help Krasinski hold on, but . . . I took another round, lost consciousness, woke up in a hospital. In my dreams, Crazy K is lying beside me, bleeding out in the dirt.”
“Just like your brother.”
Javier nodded, his throat tight. “Krasinski trusted me. He was a tough kid, a hard charger. He gave it a hundred and ten percent. He was a warrior. I guess he reminded me of Yadiel—that enthusiasm, that deep loyalty, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
Javier drew a deep breath, then turned to look at his best friend. “You were right. I’ve been acting like an ass. I’m sorry, man.”
“You got no reason to apologize. You’ve always been there for me. I just wanted you to trust me enough to let me be there for you. I know it’s not easy for you to admit that you need anything from anyone. Thanks for opening up, for letting me in.”
And Javier finally understood.
He’d tried to be the one that everyone could count on, the one who didn’t need help. He’d felt that’s what he’d had to do to be strong. But this kind of brotherhood—it was a two-way street. It had been arrogant of him to try to help Nate when he refused to let Nate help him.
“Thanks, man.”
“You going to see a therapist when you get back?”
That was a completely different question. “I don’t know. The nightmares have always stopped eventually. If they don’t . . .”
If they didn’t, he might talk to someone then.
The conversation drifted. Nate shared his news. Megan had gotten into law school and would be starting at the University of Colorado School of Law in August. Jack was getting ready to head out for a forty-fifth reunion with his platoon of Army Rangers. Emily had lost her first tooth.
Then Javier told Nate about the commander’s phone call and his refusal to return to Coronado until his leave was up.
“He asked me if I was trying to make a name for myself as an individual by hanging with a celebrity. After fourteen years of service, a Silver Star, two Purple Hearts, and a half dozen other medals, I didn’t feel I deserved that kind of bullshit.” A handful of SEALs had risen to individual prominence in recent years, giving the Pentagon a headache when it came to national security, but Javier had never sought to cash in on his Trident. “I got pissed, told him I wasn’t doing this so someone could buy the book rights. I love her, Nate.”
