Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
August 18 th
3:04 A.M.
Dodging the fist that came his way was easy.
Too easy.
Connor felt he might as well be play-wrestling with his four-year-old niece, Essie.
The men in the camp were drunk. Not just the rowdy kind, but the falling down, barely able to function kind of drunk.
Apparently, in this drunk state, they thought it would be funny to drag him out of the tent and make him fight them. He had no idea if they were aware of who he was and that he’d been a SEAL before he retired and went to join Prey. These men had to be the rumored Khmer Rouge group that lived in this area, they had some skills, but it wasn't anything comparable to his own.
And he was proving that even if the men were drunk.
It would be so easy to incapacitate as many as he could then get his hands on a weapon. But even though they were drunk many of them were still conscious. Sitting around the fire, watching as man after man tried to take him on, hollering and cheering, their weapons at their sides.
He could not get close enough to those weapons to secure one before the men could pick them up and start firing. The tent where he and Becca had been held, where his moonlight was still chained up, was close enough that it would be sprayed with bullets.
Risking Becca’s life was not an option.
Not when he owed her so much more than he’d ever realized.
Of course, over the years he’d wondered about the baby. Wondered if it was a boy or a girl, if she’d had it and kept it, or given it up for adoption, and if she knew who the child’s father was. But he’d been a coward and never tried too hard to find out.
Because he was afraid of this very thing.
Finding out that the baby he’d freaked out over was his all along was a vicious blow. One he would never recover from. He’d thrown away everything he’d ever wanted over his own son.
Son.
He’d had a son.
One he should have loved and protected in the same way he should have loved and protected its mother.
Blocking another blow, he delivered one of his own and dropped the man in front of him. The others cheered and laughed at their unconscious friend, and he prepared himself for the next one to take his turn.
Seemed like these men were slow learners.
Instead, the one who appeared to be in charge waved a hand at the others. “Put him away.”
Good.
He was glad to be done with this stupid game. Connor was anxious to get back to Becca and tell her all the things he’d been trying to find the words to express in the hours since she’d confessed that her baby was his.
Something prickled against his skin as he was shoved back toward the tent where Becca was still waiting, alone and afraid. A sense of unease. One he’d felt many times before over his career, and one that always spelled only one thing.
Trouble.
There was not a doubt in his mind that something was wrong. He just didn't know what.
As soon as the two men dragging him back to the tent lifted the flap, he knew what it was. There were two moving shadows inside and there should only be one.
Connor didn't hesitate.
In one smooth move, he slammed his elbow back into the gut of one of the men behind him, shoving the air from his lungs. While he dropped, Connor spun and grabbed the head of the second man, snapping his neck. Without pausing, he did the same to the gagging man hunched over beside the body of his friend.
With both of those men dead, he rushed into the tent.
A man was shoving to his feet, fumbling with his belt and Connor saw red. All the rage he’d felt toward Dylan who had stolen so much from Becca that he hadn't been able to find an outlet for since he’d never had a chance to get his hands on the man, now zeroed in on this target.
The scream he couldn’t allow out since it would bring every man not passed out drunk rushing right toward the tent echoed through his head as he lunged for the man who had dared to put his hands on Becca.
Death.
The man had to die.
There was no other option.
Nothing else would satiate the fury burning inside him.
Everything else in the world faded into a mess of blood and torn flesh as Connor rained down blow after blow. It was only when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder that he finally stilled.
“It’s okay, Connor. He didn't rape me. You stopped him before he could,” Becca’s soft voice penetrated his anger.
“He touched you,” he growled, breathing heavily, so much anger still in his body that he was vibrating with it.
“He did. But he didn't rape me. Because of you. Because you stopped him before he got a chance. He’s not Dylan.”
“Not Dylan,” he echoed. Not that the man deserved any less punishment than the man who had raped and almost killed Becca. The man who had been sentenced to only fifteen years in prison even though he’d destroyed Becca’s future as surely as if he’d ended her life. The man who would be getting out in just a few short years and Becca would be forced to live the rest of her life knowing her rapist was a free man.
“Not Dylan,” Becca repeated.
“I should have killed him for you,” he said, spinning to drag Becca into his arms. While she came willingly, she didn't lift her arms and hold on to him. That didn't stop him from crushing her against him, unable to let her go. Needing to feel her small frame tucked against his for reassurance that she was still alive. She might hate him, but she wasn't dead, and that was all that mattered to him.
“I didn't need you to kill him, Connor. I never needed that. All I needed was you,” Becca’s muffled voice spoke, her face pressed against his chest.
“And I failed you. I left. I’m so sorry, Becca.” He willed her to understand how deeply he regretted that one moment when he’d lost control. If he could take his regret and shove it inside her, she could see how honestly he felt those emotions. It was desperation, he needed her to understand, to know just how sorry he was.
“I know you are, Connor.”
“Everything I felt bubbled over that night, and I didn't think I could take on another blow. I should have been there. I never should have walked away, not even for a second. I should have been there for you and our son. For your son even if he wasn't mine.”
“Connor.” Her hands pressed against his chest and pushed until he loosened his hold enough that she could look up at him. “I get it. I always did. You held all your emotions in because you were prioritizing mine, it was one blow too many. Asking you to raise my rapist’s child would have been a lot. That all makes sense. I never resented you for having a breakdown. You were overdue because you held it all in for four months. I've been angry, yes, but beneath that, it’s damaged trust and resentment. You got to do what I couldn’t. You got to run. Even for a little while. I never got that luxury, and that you did, that’s what cuts the deepest because it felt like you took something else from me, that once again I didn't get to be in control of my own life.”
Dropping to his knees before her, Connor pressed his face to her stomach. So flat and smooth. A reminder of what he’d missed out on. If the baby had survived, he had no doubt Becca would have raised it on her own and he would have missed out on twelve years of his son’s life.
There would have been no one to blame but himself.
“If he’d lived, I would have told you, Connor,” Becca said as though reading his mind. “I wouldn't have kept your son from you no matter how angry I was with you.”
Wrapping his arms around her waist he kept his face to her stomach and touched soft kisses there. Willing them to travel back through time to the tiny baby boy that had once called it home.
“I'm never going to be good enough for you,” he whispered.
“It’s not about being good enough or not good enough. I just don’t trust you anymore, Connor. I still needed you, and even though I get why you lost it and left that night it doesn’t mean it didn't hurt. Doesn’t mean that now I won't always wonder if it will happen again.”
Always sounded so definitive.
So hopeless.
“I never stopped loving you, Becca. I never stopped wanting you. Never stopped regretting leaving that night instead of staying and talking it through with you.” It was time to lay himself bare, lay out all his cards and place them on the table so there was nothing more between them. “I never stopped wishing for another chance. Is it too late, Becca, or can you give me a chance to prove to you I can be the man you always deserved?”
August 18 th
3:27 A.M.
Her heart hammered so hard in her chest, it felt like a hammer knocking against her aching ribs.
Becca knew what Connor was really asking even if he couldn’t outright say the words.
A second chance.
Connor was asking if she’d date him again and see if they could reclaim what they’d lost.
Never had she expected that to be on the table.
The night he ran out of their apartment, claiming there was no way he could raise her rapist’s baby, she had resigned herself to the fact that the dreams she’d had about her future were never going to become a reality. All these years, she’d done whatever she had to do to move on including dating other men and accepting a marriage proposal from one of them.
It was now, in this moment, when her blood-covered warrior knelt before her, bruises evident on the parts of his face she could see that weren't pressed against her stomach, that she realized marrying another man would have been a mistake. It wouldn't have been fair to him when she still had unresolved feelings for Connor.
But could she give him a second chance?
Honestly, she wasn't sure.
Before she could say anything, the body of the man who had come so close to raping her groaned, and her fingers quickly curled into Connor’s T-shirt.
“H-he’s still a-alive,” she stammered. By the time she’d finally snapped out of the haze of watching the man she’d loved beating on her would-be assailant and managed to get him to stop, Becca had been fairly certain the man was already dead.
Giving her one last squeeze, she could have sworn he dragged in a deep breath of her scent—which could not be considered pleasant after two full days since she last bathed—he pushed to his feet.
For a moment, she wondered if he was angry with her for not answering, but his gaze was soft and full of emotions, and she refused to allow herself to accept for fear of getting hurt again. Pressing a kiss to her forehead that had her lips tingling, begging for one more reminder of what Connor tasted like, he then moved to crouch beside her attacker.
“I should try to get some answers from him before I kill him,” Connor said, so matter of fact, her mouth dropped open in surprise. She’d seen him kill several times now, and it didn't make her afraid of him in any way, although it did make her aware of how strong and powerful he was, it was just this was a side of Connor she’d never seen before.
It highlighted how much of one another’s lives they’d missed out on.
That made her sad.
This man had been part of her entire life. She was only a few months younger than his thirty-two years, so they’d been in the same grade at school, played together nearly every day, and dated for years. He’d been her everything, and then he’d just been gone, and she was quickly realizing how not over him she truly was.
Best to keep that to herself for now, though.
They were still in danger, and getting back to the village alive, getting help for Isabella and the villagers was their priority. Not her relationship with Connor or lack thereof.
“How are you going to do that?” she asked, hovering close enough to Connor to feed off the sense of security he infused into her, but not close enough that her attacker could reach out and grab her if he tried to.
“I don’t think you want to know the answer to that, moonlight.”
Not bothering to correct him on the use of the old nickname, Becca kept her mouth shut. He was right, she didn't want to know how he was able to make injured men that he planned on killing talk.
“Now would be a good time to close your eyes if you can't handle this, Becca,” Connor warned.
Part of her wanted to, part of her wanted no part of this. But closing her eyes would be taking the coward’s way out. For better or worse, in this situation, she and Connor were partners, and partners had one another’s backs.
“I’m okay, Connor. Do what you need to do. I won't think differently of you,” she added in a whisper because she sensed that was what Connor’s biggest concern was.
Without saying anything, Connor reached out and placed his thumb on what was obviously a broken bone in her assailant’s cheek. “Why did you raid the village?” he asked, using that low and deadly tone that made her shiver.
The man said nothing, although even in the dim light of the tent Becca could see that his eyes were open and fixed on Connor. He gave a slight curl of his lips into a sneer, that quickly vanished from sight when Connor covered the man’s mouth with his other hand and pressed down with his thumb.
Jerking and bucking the man’s scream was cut off by Connor’s hand. Her ex didn't let up, pressing against the broken bone for several long seconds before he finally released the pressure.
After another few moments, he removed his hand. “Ready to tell me why you attacked the village and took Becca and me?” Connor asked.
Breathing hard the man shot him a venomous snarl.
“Easy way or hard way,” Connor reminded him. “I’d prefer the easy way since I want to get my girl out of here and someplace safe, but we can go the hard way if you choose. The ball is in your court, buddy.”
Weighing his options, the man slumped in defeat as he realized he could either cough up the intel Connor wanted or suffer more pain and then die anyway. “Boss got orders to go for the girl,” the man muttered.
“Go for Becca? Why?” There was something about how Connor asked the question that told her he already knew the answer.
What did he know that he hadn't shared with her during the hours they’d been chained up in this tent?
If he knew why they’d been abducted, why wouldn't he tell her?
“She’s important to you. You came here for her. They want to keep you silent. Said we could do whatever we wanted to the girl, but we had to set you free alive when we were done with her.”
Becca gasped. One hand flew to her mouth, the other pressed to her stomach where nausea churned relentlessly.
Someone had attacked her village on purpose.
Had planned on abducting her.
On raping her and then killing her.
Because of Connor.
To keep him silent.
Although she had no idea who “they” were or what they wanted Connor to keep quiet about.
Connor didn't say anything. Apparently, since he had the answer he’d been seeking and expecting, if the grim look on his face was anything to go by, he had no reason to keep the man alive any longer.
The snap of her would-be rapist’s neck echoed through the small tent.
Patting down the dead man, Connor must have found the set of keys to free her, because he knelt at her feet, unlocked the cuff, then stood in front of her. One of his hands hovered near her cheek for a moment before dropping to his side. Then he was moving again. Snatching up the weapons of the men escorting him back to the tent, he thrust one of them into her hands.
“I’m sorry, Becca. For everything. We need to get out of here. Back to the village. I want you to shoot only if you have to, but if you do have to, your aim is for one thing only. Protect yourself and get out of here. You don’t worry about anything else,” Connor commanded, his voice harsh.
She knew what he was saying, and her head shook in denial.
“I can't just leave?—”
“You can and you will leave me behind if it means you live,” Connor cut her off and spoke in a voice that brokered no arguments.
Despite what he said she couldn’t do that.
Unresolved or not, she still had feelings for Connor even if she wasn't one hundred percent certain exactly what those feelings were. No way would she leave him behind.
No way.
“I failed you, Becca,” Connor said, his voice tortured now, losing the control it had possessed just a moment ago. “Do you know how much I hate myself for that? How much I want to go back in time and rewrite the past to have the future I always dreamed of? I let down the only woman I will ever love, and even if you could ever forgive me for it, I will never forgive myself. I will not fail you again. I. Will. Not,” he vowed fiercely. “My own life means nothing to me if you're not alive. Nothing.”
What could she say to that?
The emotion pouring off Connor filled the tent, seeping inside her and soothing a little of her past hurts, healing some of those old wounds.
Still, she wouldn't agree to prioritize her life over his.
Snapping his control back in place, Connor headed for the tent flap. “You stay behind me, do what I say when I say it, and let me protect you however I have to. Because one thing is for sure, Becca, I am getting you home alive.”
As she followed him out into the warm night, Becca realized that in this moment she’d never, not even in all the years they’d spent apart, felt so much distance between herself and Connor.
And she didn't like it.