Chapter Seventeen

Katy

“What about you?” I ask, curious about Briggs’s life outside of the army. He’s never mentioned his family. I know that he’s single, but surely there’s been someone in his past.

Briggs’s hand lifts to squeeze his chest as he shifts uncomfortably. “Told ya already, I’m married to the job. There’s no one.”

“Okay, well, tell me about your mom, then.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes when he answers. “Fuck if I know.”

My head jerks back in surprise, and I instantly regret prying into his life. If he wanted to share, he would. Obviously, he doesn’t.

“It’s okay,” he offers, reading my expression perfectly. “She was messed up on drugs and in and out of prison. When the state contacted my grandparents to see if they’d take me, they cut all ties with her. She could be dead, for all I know. I don’t really think of her much.”

“And your father?”

He shrugs. “Never knew him.”

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. “Jesus, Briggs.”

With a shake of his head, he dismisses my concern. “Don’t feel bad for me. I had a great childhood.” His lips curl into a devastating smile, and I can’t help but return it.

“Tell me all the good stuff.” I pull my knees to my chest, settling in to listen.

“I grew up training horses and ridin’ bulls on my grandparents’ ranch in Chappell Hill.”

“You’re lying.” I just can’t picture Briggs a cowboy. It’s the last thing I expected him to say.

His hearty chuckle fills my soul. “Why would I lie?”

I shrug. “To sound cooler or sexier than you really are.”

Briggs’s face lights up as that infuriating smirk returns, and I already know what’s coming. “You think I’m sexy, Scottie?”

“No.” Yes. “What’s your horse’s name?” I challenge, quick to change the subject.

“Houdini.”

“Wha—? Why would you name your horse that?”

“He’s a bastard, that’s why.” Briggs pulls his lower lip through his teeth. I don’t think he has any clue how gorgeous he is when he does that, even when covered in filth. Or maybe he does, and that’s why he’s doing it. The appearance of his teeth confirms as much.

“So, Houdini.”

“That little asshole was constantly escaping the pen. Gramps kept sendin’ me out to fetch him. We were supposed to be selling him—”

“But you fell in love?” I tease, cutting him off.

“Somethin’ like that.” Briggs looks deep in thought. “I’m not really sure what happened. He just became mine.”

A giggle erupts from my chest, causing Briggs to look at me with amused concern. “I’m just trying to picture you in Wranglers with a belt buckle bigger than your head.”

“Don’t forget the cowboy hat, while you’re daydreamin’ about me over there. The ladies love the hat.”

I roll my eyes, enjoying this conversation far too much. “Speaking of ladies…there’s never been anyone special in your life, Briggs? I have such a hard time believing that.”

“I used to fuck around with some of the ranch hands’ daughters in the hayloft. Asked Emma Jo Wiley to senior prom and got caught deflowering her by the cops in the back of my Ford pickup at the city park.” He smirks at the memory. “That’s as close as I got to love, and I’ve never had a true relationship with romantic feelings or anything since. Career soldier, remember? Guess you could say I fall in love once a night on every leave.”

“That makes me sad. You’re gonna make some girl really happy someday.”

“Oh, I’ve made lots of girls real happy.” He winks.

I shake my head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Don’t lie…you like it.”

“Maybe,” I answer honestly because now that I’ve gotten to know him, I wouldn’t have him any other way. “You keep me on my toes.”

“Good. It’s high time you lighten up a bit.” He nods, hissing in pain, reminding me of the beating he’s still recovering from. For a moment, I’d forgotten how dire our situation is. Briggs has a way of doing that—of setting me at ease and distracting me from our surroundings.

“I’m not uptight.”

Briggs’s brows shoot up. “The hell you’re not. My Gramps would have had a field day with you, old flirt that he was.”

His grandfather is dead. Something pulls in my chest. Briggs has already endured so much loss in his lifetime. “Sounds like the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree,” I tease.

He gets a wistful, faraway look.

“Tell me about him?” I urge, wanting to soak up everything I can about this man. I need to know Christopher Paul Briggs, all of him.

“Ah, Gramps. He was a character. That man loved being outdoors. If he wasn’t eatin’ or sleepin’, he was out on the ranch, breakin’ horses or fishin’ in the pond. He was patient with the animals…with me. I know it’ll be hard for you to imagine, but I was a bit of a shit.”

“Not you.”

He chuckles at a memory. “I used to drive Gran fightin’ mad, and Gramps could calm her down with a few whispered words. He balanced her out. Gramps was good for her.” He smiles. “And my backside. He just had this peace about him.”

“He sounds wonderful.”

“He was. Best damn trainer for hundreds of miles, at least. And the best father a kid like me could’ve ever asked for.” He nods, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob with a hard swallow.

“What happened?” I whisper, knowing I should leave well enough alone, but unable to stop myself.

“Aneurysm. He, uh…he died in his sleep. Gran just couldn’t wake him up one morning. It’s crazy. He was in great shape, with no signs of slowing down, and then he was gone.”

I can physically feel his loss, and it draws me closer.

“I realize how ridiculous the words ‘I’m sorry’ are now. Mullins is the first person I’ve ever lost. But I mean them, if it matters. I’m so sorry.”

He nods his thanks, at a loss for words. It hurts me to see him this way.

“I’ve never ridden a horse.” I muse, needing to break the silence after a long pause. “Maybe one day, after we get outta here, I can come out to the ranch and learn.”

Briggs looks at me with the devil in his eyes. “Or you could save a horse…” He waggles his brows.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, ass—”

“Someone’s coming,” he whispers urgently, sitting up a little straighter. All of my ease drains away as fear cloaks me and dread sets in the pit of my stomach.

“Katy,” he says softly as more commotion sounds above.

Sensing the tension in his posture, my gaze finds his. I’m searching his depths for fear. Instead, I’m lulled into their warmth. In his eyes, I see it, the peace he’s made with his fate as my soul begins to scream with loss.

“No,” I beg. “Please don’t say it.”

“Being here with you was worth every minute…just to know you. I’m so glad I know you.”

“Briggs…we don’t know…” Desperate breaths come fast as I search for words that matter, and fear stifles them.

“It was worth it. You are worth it.”

Understanding passes between us as he gives me a reassuring nod.

I shake away his resolution, replacing it with my own. It’s time to fight—for him.

Hiyam is the first down the ladder, which gives me some small relief until I see her followed by three others. I recognize the one who murdered Mullins right away. His eyes are pure evil, and he has this air of superiority surrounding him. He is the one calling the shots. For a heartbeat, my eyes lock with his, and I feel a chill ripple over my skin. It’s crazy how much you can learn about a person just by staring into their eyes.

“Have you enjoyed our hospitality?” the cameraman quips as he looks between us. He rubs his hand through his long beard as he walks over and squats down before me. “And because you are now in our debt, you will repay us with answers.”

I lock eyes with Briggs, and it’s in that moment we know that we’ve been waiting for this confrontation, for the inevitable. Our silent exchange in acceptance pierces me at the deepest level, as my head swirls, and soundless screams go unleashed in my chest. Fighting like hell to keep my reaction in check, I swallow as he holds my gaze for as long as possible.

I’m right here with you.

You aren’t alone.

In seconds Briggs is unchained and dragged to his feet while my stomach turns in on itself. My heart is lurching against my chest as I set my mask to feign indifference. His eyes again connect with mine as I inwardly sink and drown in sorrow while he’s hauled across the bunker, limbs weak. I would give my life for his. I know now, I would sacrifice myself for him, not just as a soldier, but as a woman, as a human. With as much and as little as I know about him, I would trade places with him in a second, and I want him to know it.

“Briggs,” I fight to keep my voice even and only wait a single breath because it’s all I have. “If I ever run…” I’ll run for you.

“I know.” His whisper brings me relief as his fingers brush a lock of my hair just as he’s drug past me. It’s subtle, nowhere near intimate, but it’s enough. A moment later I’m backhanded into my own reality.

Whether I’m brave or stupid is debatable, but I stare right into the beady eyes of the man who assaults me. Overcome with rage, I swallow my own mortality. “I don’t have answers.”

“How can that be? You have not heard the question,” he grits through clenched teeth, hate emanating from him. Hate for me, for what I stand for. The feeling is mutual, and I can only pray the contempt in my eyes mirrors his.

My shoulders rise and fall in defiance. I don’t know why I have this sudden urge to poke the bear. Maybe it’s boredom, or perhaps I have a death wish because they just took the last of my hope away. “Doesn’t matter, my response will be the same.”

His hand swings out, striking me across the right side of my face. “You will talk.”

I shake my head. Tears sting the back of my eyes and burn in my throat, but I won’t let them fall. Multiple footfalls echo up the stairs, and I can feel Briggs’s eyes on me. It’s the biggest test of my life as a soldier, and without my hope, I find the idea of death merciful.

I dig deep and find the words, facing my enemy head on.

“My name is Staff Sergeant Kathryn Nicole Scott, R-S-A-three, two, seven, one, two, six. Born February eighth, nineteen—”

The heat of the next slap burns my cheek as dark eyes challenge mine. “I am an American soldier. I am a warrior and a member of a team.”

“Hooah!” Briggs rallies, his voice choking with emotion as I take another backhand to the face.

“I serve the people of the United States and live the Army values.”

Another fist to the temple has me reeling. I choke on the blood that laces my teeth and coats my tongue.

“I will always place the mission first,” I hear Briggs shout right before the ladder is drug up and out of sight. More tears threaten at the loss of intimacy between us as he disappears out of reach, but instead of faltering, I lift my chin to the man who accuses me of being exactly who I am. A woman, a soldier. I give him our shared declaration loud enough for Briggs to hear.

“I will never accept defeat. I will never quit!”

Briggs lets out an agony-filled scream from above me as another blow is delivered. Ears ringing, I suck in my lips, biting down hard, and squeezing them between my teeth. I shut my eyes, take in a deep breath, and brace myself for death, but it doesn’t come. Another of his cries from above has my insides shattering. Another question is asked, another denial in the form of silence from me is followed by another reluctant scream from above. I know Briggs is trying to spare me, but every burst of pain from his mouth means a breath from his lungs, and it fuels the fire, the anger. I’m seething, and it’s keeping me fighting. He’s still with me, and I’m not going to let him down. It lasts for minutes or hours—time is my enemy. Blood streams from my temple, blurring my vision as I blissfully blackout with more fight inside than I ever imagined possible. The silence above is the only thing that terrifies me as I fade away.

I’m almost certain they have killed him. I wish it was me instead and not because I’m some martyr. No, this feeling is purely selfish. I’m heartbroken, and I’m also jealous because if he really is gone, he’s in a far better place. He made this dark fortress filled with evil bearable, in the loosest sense of the word, because I’d had his company. If I have to wait to be rescued one more day without him…I don’t want to be here at all.

Darkness is setting in. Growing hoarse from calling to him for hours, I’m finally forced to accept the answering silence as fact.

I’ve lost him too…

I haven’t cried—not since Mullins—but finally, I break. Alone in the bleak reality of isolation, I feel a false sense of security and let go. Deep guttural sobs wrack my body. With no relief as the anger builds, I cry out, no longer caring who hears me. “Just fucking kill me too!” I shout. “Please, for God’s sake, take me too.”

No one answers.

That night I walk in a pasture filled with horses, next to a little boy with amber eyes and a dazzling smile. He leads me to the edge of a field as he points to the setting sun and tells me I’m free. So I run, and he runs with me.