Chapter Five

Briggs

“Fuck!” I fist my hands at my forehead as I watch Hollins roll out in a Humvee, unconscious. He’s lost a shitload of blood.

Jones puts a hand on my shoulder as I try to recall what happened.

“It was quick. Get out of your head. This isn’t on you,” he warns as we climb into the truck and follow them back to base. Our patrol had ended in a gunfight. Some motherfucker had decided to go kamikaze on us just before we’d finished up. Twisting in my seat, I look back at the two soldiers behind us who I call the two micks—McKnight and McCallister.

“What’d you see?” They’re already shaking their heads before I can get the question out.

“No fucking clue,” McKnight says, looking past my shoulder at the speeding Humvee. “That asshole came out of nowhere.”

“Was he alone?”

“Not sure,” McCallister answers. “But as fast as we took that fucker down, I think we rattled the rest away.”

Pissed I didn’t see it coming, I smash my fist on the dash as Jones drives us back to base. As soon as he hits the brakes, I’m racing for the clinic.

Hauling ass inside, I’m brought to a stop when I see Scottie sitting beside Hollins, her features twisted in guilt, his lifeless body on the table next to her. She rubs her hands down her face and shakes her head before her eyes meet mine.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I say, approaching the table with lead in my stomach. “What happened?”

“We tried,” she says, pulling a fresh sheet over Hollins. Reaching out, I stop her movement before she can completely cover him. My hand rests on her shoulder for a beat before I pull it away.

“Just a second,” I whisper, as my chest constricts. I study Hollins for a minute, maybe more, before I nod my head, and she covers him the rest of the way.

“Thank you,” Scottie whispers to Hollins. “I’m so sorry.”

Unable to speak around the building lump in my throat, I turn to walk away when her voice stops me.

“Did he have a family?”

Irritated with the question, I look back to her, letting it out the only way I can. “He had a fucking life he wasn’t finished living, Scottie—isn’t that enough? Or does every soldier have to be a family man to matter?”

Instantly I regret it. I can’t even look at her face for her reaction because I already feel like an asshole.

Two steps outside the clinic, my hands are on my knees. “FUCK!”

“I’m sorry.” She speaks up from behind me. “I did everything I could. In truth, he was already gone before he got here.”

Turning, I look back at her. My asshole comment didn’t faze her, but I can see the regret of his loss in her posture. Sunlight glints off her hair as she looks to me with concern and sympathy swimming in her sea-colored eyes. I’m not used to seeing that on any other woman’s face but my Gran, and I find it comforting, appealing even.

“Thank you.”

She swipes the side of her face with her hand, her own frustration showing. “I didn’t do anything. I feel like I’m not saving anyone. Most of the time”—she pauses—“by the time they get here…” Her eyes shine with defeat. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping on you.”

“It’s okay to grieve a soldier you don’t know, Scottie. I think everyone should. I’m sure you’re doing all you can. You’re here, that’s enough.”

She opens her mouth to speak then presses her lips together.

“What is it?” I ask, taking a step toward her.

It’s hard not to notice her. Even when she’s dressed in greens and without a stitch of makeup, the woman is remarkably beautiful.

She hesitates before she takes a step forward and looks up at me. “Just…be careful out there, okay? Watch your six, Briggs.”

“You worried about me?”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “Yes. Please don’t show up on my table.” She’s dead serious. I know she’s having a hard time being away from her family. She’s probably never seen as much carnage as she has in the last month. I stare at her a beat too long as she holds my gaze.

“I’ll do my best, Scottie.”

“Do better than that,” she whispers before she turns and walks back inside.