Chapter 4
Issa listened to the footsteps retreating from the bedroom. She had no idea who this man was. She’d only awoken to the pain—fingers poking and prodding.
It was hard to lie motionless as they continued to explore her wounds. Her feet felt funny—warm, yet cold; stinging, and yet healing. She couldn’t figure out what they’d done to her feet. Everything hurt so damn much. Now if only she knew where she was, why she was here, and who these men were. The one thing she did know was that Roash stood guard beside her.
As if sensing she was awake, her falcon leaned forward and gently stroked his beak along her temple. Hot tears came to her eyes. She didn’t know if anybody could possibly understand how bereft her life had been, how empty since she had lost her own falcon two decades ago. Roash had filled those footprints more than most, but their relationship still didn’t have the same depth as what she’d had.
It seemed like she had spent all that time searching for another feathered friend, an animal that would give her the same connection. Something about this one made her hope and, at the same time, made her fear. This was the second time in her life everything had blown up.
The first time had cost lives. And everything she’d known—her father, her brothers, her homeland, and the house she’d spent every day in. The fields and the hills, the cliffs and crannies, she had climbed and crawled and laughed and played on them all. But the loss of her own falcon had hurt the most. It turned her into a mute for many months. Nobody understood. Specialists said it was the shock and trauma of losing so many family members. But, in fact, it was the trauma of having the voice in her head go silent. It had been … special. The two of them together had been … incredible. But she’d been a child, and nobody had believed her. They understood the falcon came when she called, that he had been trained, and, even though she was young, she had worked hard to develop the bond between them. Of course she had. Her father had always threatened to take the falcon away if the two didn’t do their best for him.
Her dad had been an opportunistic man, gleefully dealing in activities that the government would’ve done a lot to stop. But it was the only way he knew. It was how he fed his family, how he’d been raised. And it was a life he took to naturally. He led a large group of trusted men just like him.
She’d had an odd relationship with her father. As long as she was of value, she was treated fairly. But, even though a mere child, dare she cross him … As such, her memories were conflicting. Most of the time she was happy with foggy memories that allowed her to see him in a warmer light. But she was an adult now. She knew he had been a smuggler. But the other charges she’d seen on that criminal record sheet had shocked her. Made her question her childhood.
The covers were pulled off her body yet again. She knew she should be worried that whoever checked her over was someone she didn’t know. And that her body was entirely exposed and just as injured. But she had heard nothing but compassion in either of the men’s voices. Soon blankets were pulled up to her neck, and a welcomed warmth invaded her body.
She was so very cold. In her homeland, she was used to the cold, as they all were. You got up in the morning, and you could see your breath in the air, and she found a certain joy in the experience. Evidence of the freshness of the world around them. And she missed it.
She missed so much. Everything that had happened in her twenty-six years of life, she could label into parts: part one being before the nightmare, before she lost all but one family member.
Part two being the aftermath. That horrible stage of immigrating to America, forced to see doctors and specialists, looked upon as an oddity, attending school, which she had no interest in. A life without her father or her brothers. Or her beloved falcon. A life inside the concrete city with concrete boxes stacked on top of other concrete boxes and stuck beside more concrete boxes.
Life where there were no green hills, no waves crashing on the shores below. And worse yet, no breath hanging frozen on the air when she got up in the mornings. And no falcon ever at her side. The loss had been overpowering.
Part three was the adjustment. Growing up, going to schools, multiples of them, finding a life worth living, learning to understand what relationships were, her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first affair, and then her first graduation and her second graduation, followed by a third. Those were the normal steps in life here. Although she’d been behind when she first arrived in the States and had been held back from school for a long time until she began to speak again and could pass her placement tests, she’d eventually made the most of her new reality.
Until part four. When her physically healthy mother, at only sixty-two, had a heart attack and died on the kitchen floor, while Issa had been working on her research at the university. She’d found her mother when she had arrived for dinner. And all that part one pain and shock and loss reopened, and she realized how little she’d dealt with that original pain.
Now an adult, she had been forced to go through the motions of organizing her mother’s body for cremation and finding a place to lay her to rest. It had been tough to go back into her mother’s apartment to clean up her personal belongings.
And just like Pandora’s Box, she’d opened the box of paperwork and then been kidnapped—her world split anew and part five began.
Part five tore her world apart.
The footsteps returned. She couldn’t stop the shudder rippling down her spine. She didn’t know who this first man was, but she recognized caring when she felt it.
He’d brought her in from the cold, but, more than that, … Roash trusted him.
For her, that said everything.
Until she heard a second voice. And the thick Irish accent.
*
“How is she?” Eagle hovered as Gray cleansed and then stitched up the head injury.
“She needs a doctor,” Gray snapped. “How do you expect her to be?” He twisted to stare at Eagle. “I get that you don’t want to bring in the sheriff, that you want nothing to do with authority anymore, but what you can’t have is this woman dying on you.”
Eagle’s voice was hard. “That’s why I brought you in.”
Gray shook his head. “That’s not good enough. I don’t have the proper facilities here to take out that bullet.”
“You do it, or I do it,” Eagle said firmly. “No law enforcement types.”
Gray twisted on the side of the bed and glared at him. “Why? Why would you choose to put her life at risk by not calling for help?”
“Because she’s running for her life. Somebody shot her. No way in hell am I letting anybody else know she’s here.”
He watched as Gray’s face worked. In many ways Gray was like Eagle, somebody who didn’t do well with the establishment. But Gray would call the sheriff or EMTs. Or a lawyer. Whoever was needed, he would reach out for help, whereas Eagle had been the help for a long time. Being in the military, he’d spent time all around the world, helping military coups, fighting against insurgents, saving people, rescuing kidnap victims. He’d been the one everyone called for when they needed help.
Besides, how could Gray understand the bizarre events that had occurred when Eagle found this woman? Eagle didn’t understand them himself. But he knew, from that moment on, it was his job to protect her. In whatever shape or form was required. In his personal experience he’d seen the enemy in many different disguises. He often intuited when and where the attack would come from. And he was damn sure it was coming. And soon.
If he hadn’t trusted Gray, Eagle wouldn’t have called him. As he studied the older man, he wondered just how much he trusted him now. Because if he told anyone she was here, … then Gray had suddenly become the weakest link.
Eagle dropped his gaze and walked to the window and studied the yard around the house. The birds had returned to normal in their pens. They were one of the best security systems he could possibly have. Along with the two dogs.
He turned back to Gray. “Are you with me?”
Gray was already prodding the woman’s shoulder. “I think the bullet went through the soft tissue and missed the bone.”
Eagle walked over and sat down. “Stop.”
Gray’s fingers froze.
Eagle pointed. “On that side, a lump is under the skin.”
Gray whistled. “Pass me the scalpel, will you?”
Eagle reached over to the towel that held the surgical instruments. He picked up the scalpel, passing it to him. He knew what came next. He grabbed one of the antibacterial cloths and quickly wiped the area. He watched and waited as Gray made a precision cut through the skin and went digging for the bullet so damn close to the surface that it had almost gone through by itself. When he grabbed the tweezers and pulled it out, Eagle held out his hand for it.
Eagle studied the bloody bullet. Then shook his head. “A .22. Somebody shot her with a .22 rifle.”
“Good squirrel gun but it doesn’t do so much for humans.”
“She isn’t much bigger than a squirrel.”
Grimly Gray nodded. “How long do you think she was kept captive?”
“That’s something I need to find out. Do you think she’s naturally skinny, or is this malnutrition? As in, could this have developed through weeks to months of captivity?”
“It’s malnutrition. It’s prolonged stress. I’d say she’s been a captive without food for at least a week, potentially with skimpy rations for a couple months, but she’s naturally lean.”
“Once again we’ve come up against the nicer side of humanity.” Eagle’s voice was sarcastic, even though he tried hard not to let it out.
But he’d seen too much of the world to hold much faith in people. He settled back and watched as Gray stitched the tiny wound closed and placed a bandage over it. When he was done, they shifted her position so her shoulder was up and her arm supported with a pillow under it to stop the shoulder blade from pulling on the wound.
“You better find some clothes for her. Her skin tone is turning gray, and she’s seriously anemic. We need to give her some vitamin shots. But, if she’s hypothermic, that’s another thing altogether.”
With the same thought, Eagle straightened and walked upstairs into his bedroom. He pulled out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. When he came back, he said, “I’m pretty sure these will swim on her.” With help from Gray, Eagle quickly dressed her, being careful of her shoulder and her many other bruises, scrapes, and cuts. As they pulled the sweatpants over her hips, Eagle said, “I’m worried about that green spot.”
“You should be,” Gray said. “That looks like a blow to her right kidney. Probably a direct punch to gain compliance.”
A muscle worked in Eagle’s jaw as he nodded. “And the rest?”
“I’m hoping they’re all superficial. But I think this rib on the side is cracked. Without an X-ray, I don’t know for sure.” He turned and glanced at Eagle. “Do you know anybody who would give her an X-ray without asking too many questions?”
Eagle shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“What about the vet you use for the birds?”
Eagle shrugged. “I don’t know that anyone would let me bring in a human patient.” He studied the frail woman. “How badly do you think she needs it?”
“It would be the first thing I’d have done if I was in a hospital. I don’t like some of these bruises. I don’t like the fact multiple colors are in the same spot.”
Eagle pulled a big sock over her foot, tucking it under the loose sweatpants leg, almost smiling when it came to her knees. With the second one on, he tucked her under the bedcovers.
As he walked out of the spare bedroom with Gray, Eagle said, “I saw lots of that out on missions. Systematic torture. The same bruises day in and day out. And the sustained damage never quite heals.”
“And they’re all strategically placed of course.”
“The one on her right kidney is for sure.”
Gray nodded. “That’s where I think she was somebody’s punching bag for longer than a week. Given her condition, I suspect she’s been missing for several weeks.”
“Why? Why would somebody do that?”
Gray stopped to look at Eagle, shoving his hands into his pockets, his medicine bag packed up beside him. “You have to realize there is a good chance she’s been sexually molested. There could be damage on the inside too.”
Eagle leaned forward. “There was no bruising on her thighs or around the pubic area.”
“I know. I saw that. And maybe that’s a good thing. But people will rape as a punishment. As a power and dominance thing, not for the sexual pleasure of it. And they’re also quite likely to use an object for the same purpose.”
Inside his gut Eagle felt something tighten down. It was pure anger. “There was no blood,” he said slowly. In his mind, he searched back to when he’d first seen her. “There was no blood except from the fresh bullet wound and on her head. There was no dried blood anywhere else.”
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t go through a creek, and it washed off.” He nodded toward her. “However, I agree no bruising was there, and, given the colors on the rest of her body, I’ll surmise she wasn’t sexually assaulted.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her.” Inside Eagle sighed with relief. It wasn’t a guarantee of course, but he trusted Gray’s skill. There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen in his life either.
“You do that. You might want to consider contacting Annie too.” Gray picked up his bag. “I’d say it’s been a fun time, but I’m not sure I’ll sleep tonight, knowing she’s here. Call me if her condition changes.”
“I will.” Eagle hesitated a moment. “Thanks for coming.”
Gray lifted a hand. “Don’t make me regret that I didn’t drive her to the emergency room myself—or that I should’ve called the sheriff.”
“If you do,” Eagle said in all seriousness, “you just signed her death warrant.”
Gray shot him a hard look. “And likely your own.” He turned and walked out.
Eagle didn’t give a damn if he took a bullet. But, as he considered all the birds that needed his care, it made him contemplate what backup plans he should implement, just in case something did happen to him. It was an issue as he was the sole caregiver to so many. Several young men in town gave him a hand when he’d built the new pens. They continued to come out on an irregular basis to help out around the place, so Eagle had no idea how long until their next visit.
Eagle hadn’t worried about his death up until now. Realizing that a real threat was imminent, he needed to consider it. And fast.
*
Stefan rolled over in bed. When he opened his eyes, he could see blue sky all around him. He glanced down at his mattress. But there wasn’t one. Instead it was just a big fluffy cloud supporting him as he floated in the sky. Amazed and filled with wonder, he let himself drift, wondering who and what he owed for this experience. He traveled in the ethers a lot.
But he had yet to float on a cloud.
He smiled in joy, closed his eyes, and reached out with his arms, letting a burst of energy from his heart go free. When he opened his eyes again, the sky had darkened. Not with a cloud or a storm approaching but with night. And somehow the dark midnight sky was even sharper and clearer. He still floated on his crisp white downy bed, but the stars were so clear, it was as if he could touch them. He was amazed at the feeling.
He didn’t quite understand what was going on, and he wanted to because, as soon as he could, he’d repeat this—at least he’d try to. He twisted his head to see land below him. But it was a long way down there.
As he searched, he couldn’t identify his location. There were trees and meadows, forest and fences, plus the odd house dotted the landscape. But not any recognizable landmarks to tell him where he was. He sent out a cry in his mind, asking, “Who needs help?”
There was no answer. None. He frowned and then realized a tiny faint trail of energy surrounded him, as if somebody had floated in this spot in recent times. There was a familiarity to it. He didn’t quite understand. He tried to track the energy, but it disappeared beneath him. As he rolled over to stare below, the world disappeared as clouds moved in.
He tried to brush away the clouds, but there was no moving them. He rolled off the cloud, pointed himself toward Earth and dove. Just as he thought he was about to break through the cloud cover, he sat up in bed.
His beloved Celina rolled over and placed her hand on his arm. “A nightmare?” she asked gently.
He scrubbed his face, pulling his hair back off his forehead. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “But it was the same energy as before.”
“The woman crying for help?”
He turned to look down at his wife and nodded. “I haven’t heard or seen that energy in a few days. I was afraid she’d died.”
Celina sat up, wrapped her arms around him, and just held him close. He knew how lucky he was to have her love him like she did. Well, he was more than lucky. He was truly blessed. He burrowed his face in the nape of her neck and crushed her close.
“Can you sleep again?”
A shudder rippled down his body. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Maybe.”
They lay back on the sheet, arms wrapped around each other, just giving comfort, both knowing that, at any moment, he could be pulled into another dream, another vision, or, the worst case, another nightmare.
And he could do very little about it.