Chapter 68
Austin
John answered the knock at the door. “Rogers is here.”
“Let him in.”
“John, if you’ve got a minute, Colonel Shepherd is at the entrance and would like a word,” Rogers said, shaking John’s hand.
“Are you good?” John asked.
“I’m good.” I really didn’t need someone sitting with me twenty-four-seven but they wouldn’t listen.
“Hey John, since I expect I’ll never meet him, will you tell Colonel Shepherd I said thank you.
” I’d offer to be available to help him but it’d be at least six months before I fully healed and even longer before I was in fighting condition.
“I will,” John said before closing the door and leaving me alone with Mike Rogers, the man responsible for saving our lives.
“How are you holding up?” Rogers asked, walking to the left side of my bed. Unlike everyone else, he had no problem staring at the flat space that should’ve had a leg bump.
“I’ve been better, but thanks to you and your team, I’m alive to complain about it.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry they couldn’t save your leg.”
“Thanks.” I reached down to scratch, but Rogers caught my hand.
“I’m sure they’ve told you not to touch it.”
“They have.” I leaned back and closed my eyes. “It itches.”
He nodded. “A side effect of the morphine. Does it hurt?”
It did, but only because I was a stubborn ass and refused the full dose of morphine required to eliminate the pain.
Being alert for Nina was worth the constant dull ache, the itching, and the occasional sharp pain.
“Winchester.”
“It’s fine.”
“She’ll be gone for a few hours. Have the nurse increase your dosage and get some pain-free sleep.”
I laughed. “Who made you the boss?”
“Just telling you what you already know.”
“Thanks.” I owed this man my life. Nina’s life. “If you ever need anything…” My voice trailed off as my eyes drifted to my leg.
“You know you’ll be okay, right?”
I did. It’d just take time and a lot of therapy. Physical and psychological.
I’d never forget the fear in Nina’s eyes when she sat up in the backseat of the car and saw them slam my head into the hood.
Or the horror in her eyes as they beat me.
Or the dread in her scream when they shot me.
Or the absolute terror on her face when Kane ordered his men to kill me.
“Winchester?” Rogers grabbed my shoulder.
I snapped back to the present and heard my EKG beeping off the charts.
“Take a few breaths with me,” Rogers said, leading me through a few rounds of box breathing until my heart rate returned to normal.
“Want to tell me what you were thinking about? Or do I already know?”
“They put her through hell.”
“They did, and she’ll need a good PTSD counselor. So will you. Our team doctor can give you some local referrals.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“I’ll have him send the names to your uncle.”
She needs therapy because of me. She almost died because of me.
As if he could read my mind, Rogers said, “Winchester, you know it’s not your fault.” Pain flashed across his eyes before empathy replaced it. He’s been in my shoes. He understands what it’s like to feel helpless when someone needs him.
“I led them to her.”
“Did you do it intentionally?”
Anger felt better than guilt.
“Fuck you, of course not.”
“Then how is it your fault?”
Needing to talk to someone I could be open with, I shared my guilt and fear, finishing with, “I should’ve been more careful from the start.”
“Winchester, you did everything you could, including violating your oath, to protect her.”
I groaned at the reminder. I’d have to hand in my resignation after closing the case.
“Gibson and I will probably get fired.” Maybe arrested.
“Or be given a medal. Colonel Shepherd will make sure you come out smelling like roses when he files his report.”
“It’s our report I’m worried about.”
He shrugged and said, “What’re a few broken rules when you’ve caught corrupt CIA officers and shut down a shadow op company working on the wrong side of the law?”
That was an understatement. Kane and Gable were low-key domestic terrorists hiding behind the guise of international operations.
“I hope the Director of the CIA agrees.” I still didn’t know if the buck stopped with Kane and Gable.
“Even if she doesn’t, she won’t take action while you’re laid up in a hospital bed, so take advantage of the government benefits while you can.”
I nodded, grateful I had great health benefits and weeks of personal time off to extend my medical leave after the doctor cleared me for light duty.
Rogers glanced at his phone. “Your uncle is on his way back, and I have to run.” He shook my hand. “Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks again, Rogers. I’m a phone call away if you need anything.”
“Appreciate it.”
“How can I reach you?”
“Have Sharpe reach out to Smith.”
“Right, Sharpe has a Shepherd Security contact.” So did Ryan, but I didn’t.
“Yeah, turns out they crossed paths when Sharpe did contract work with the Chicago PD. They speak the same language, and both ask for forgiveness rather than seek permission.” He laughed. “If you know what I mean.”
I did.
Rogers grabbed his phone out of his pocket and asked, “What’s your phone number?”
I rattled off the ten digits of my personal number.
“I’ll send you a text in a few days. My first name only in your contacts.”
“Copy that.”
With that, he shook my hand and left.
Before the door closed, I glimpsed Rogers shaking Bryce’s hand.