03-Strength of the Mate (48 page)

“As you were, Sergeant…Brandt, is it?” Tim had that forceful tone Adam thought of as his ‘Marine voice’. His expression was open and questioning.

“Yes, Major, sir.” Brandt’s posture relaxed perceptibly, but he still stood tall and straight, in that way most Marines did.

“Adam’s been seen by the doctor, and we’ve just called our mom with the good news, so the main priorities have been handled.” Tim waved a hand casually in Adam’s direction. “I defer to Adam, at this point. He’s been through a lot and might be too tired.”

Adam stroked Dawson’s head, buying himself some time. The thought of reliving the last five weeks didn’t bother him, like he’d thought it would. “I feel up to it, for now,” he told Brandt. “I make no promises not to unexpectedly nod off after ten minutes.” Maybe it would fuck with him later on. Adam didn’t think it would, though.

“Understood,” Brandt said. He produced an electronic tablet from where he’d tucked it under his arm. “If you need to stop, just say the word. We can resume later, when you’re rested.”

Borovec settled into guard duty on the opposite end of the room from Paul and Jason. Brandt brought a visitor’s chair closer to the left side of Adam’s bed.

“Gunny Rivers, I presume?” Brandt gestured toward Dawson with his tablet’s stylus.

“Yep. That’s my bodyguard,” Adam confirmed, rubbing at one of Dawson’s ears.

Sergeant Brandt made notes on his tablet with the stylus, as Adam answered his questions. The interview wasn’t as extensive or detailed as he’d expected. They covered the broad strokes of Adam’s ordeal, starting with him regaining consciousness on the overpass, and ending with him running toward the approaching Marine patrol. Adam didn’t know the identities of any of his captors, or where any of the places he’d been held were. They didn’t interrogate him, so he hadn’t been tortured.

“That’s all I need for now,” Brandt said, securing the stylus. “There will be other, detailed interviews in the coming days. You may have seen or heard something that has significance to one of the Recon teams, or to the CIA.”

“Does anyone have any idea why they treated me so well?” Adam blurted the question that had been eating at him for a while. “It was bad, but even while it was going on, I knew it could get a lot worse at any moment.”

“They wanted to ransom you,” answered Brandt. “It was a very disorganized attempt, though. We determined early on that the frequent patrols and building searches, in and around Fallujah, kept them under intense pressure and off balance.”

Adam nodded. “That explains why they moved me so many times. What would have happened to me if I didn’t have a family willing to pay to get me back?”

A tense silence settled over the room. Eric and Tim exchanged meaningful looks. Sergeant Brandt seemed puzzled by Adam’s question. He looked across at Tim for guidance.

“Adam…didn’t any of them tell you what they planned to do?” Tim asked.

“The only one who spoke even a little English was the doctor,” Adam said with a shake of his head. “And I only saw him once.”

Tim watched Adam through narrowed eyes, for several silent moments. “Sergeant Brandt? Are you able to access the relevant videos from your tablet?”

“Absolutely, Major.” Brandt immediately handed the tablet to Tim.

Tim quickly found what he was looking for. “The BBC news crew you encountered? They knew civilians working for Ares were running convoys out of Camp Fallujah, so they brought the recording here. They told us where they’d seen you, and the direction of travel. They have a damn good research department, because in less than three hours, they broadcast this report.”

Adam took the tablet from Tim as the video began to play.

“…while awaiting our contact on a road just outside the town of Fallujah, we were approached by four armed Iraqi nationals, traveling in a small motorcar. The Iraqis had taken as hostage, an American civilian contractor.

Could you tell us your name?

Madison. Adam. U.S. citizen. I’m a civilian contractor with Ares International.

Can you tell us where you’re working out of, here in Iraq? Why are you being held prisoner? Are you being well treated?”

Adam saw the image of himself, bound wrists, bloody arm, sitting passively in the backseat of the car. His expression was tense, but resigned. He clearly remembered how fucking scared he was at that moment. He was glad it didn’t show on the tape. The only thing he had any control over then had been his own reactions.

“We later learned that Adam Madison is a lorry driver, working as a convoy leader for the American firm of Ares International. Madison has two older brothers, one of whom is a doctor with Médecins Sans Frontiéres, currently assigned to the nation of Rwanda. Madison has a second older brother who is serving as a major in the United States Marine Corps, reportedly alongside the Armed Forces True Alpha werewolf and his Dominant.”

Adam handed the tablet back to Tim. “So my captors probably knew about my connection to you?”

“Not probably. They definitely knew. The CIA took the BBC journalist’s information and combined it with their own intel. They advised the Marines to launch an aggressive search and rescue mission, targeting locations they knew had unusual and secretive activity. Since you’re the recognized companion of one of his most valued pack leaders, Noah threw his weight around. He sent Terrell Hubbard, and a few other werewolves, to help with the search. All human patrols were augmented with werewolf trackers, and they tore the countryside apart, looking for you.”

“I thought that was Hubbard in the middle of things during my rescue,” Adam said. “He was happily ripping apart other werewolves.” He wondered if he’d ever met any of those werewolves when they were human. Their deaths had been brutal, but they’d chosen to attack instead of retreat, or surrender.

“Sounds like Hubbard,” Tim said with a grin.

“That’s the really big guy, right?” asked Eric. “Speaks softly, but looks like he could break you in half with his bare hands?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, that’s Terrell.” He turned back to Adam. “They basically put the fear of the Marine Corps and its werewolves into your captors. But they also realized just how valuable you could be to them. Do you have any idea how they tried to use that video they made of you? The one where they held a machete to your neck?”

A chill ran through Adam at the memory. He threaded his fingers through the fur on Dawson’s neck. “The one I thought was going to end with me losing my head? Yeah, I remember. Tell me Mom didn’t see that.” He hated the idea of his mom seeing her child so helpless and vulnerable. Even if she’d seen it, Adam thought she’d be proud of the way he’d held on to his dignity.

Eric nodded. “Dad did a good job of keeping her from seeing it,” he said. “He showed her stills we isolated, so she knew you were alive and in relatively good shape.”

“Good,” Adam said with relief. “So, I thought they were making a typical propaganda video, you know? Infidels, get out of our country or this is what will happen, just before they lop my head off.” He shivered when he remembered the chill of the blade against his throat. Adam chased away his fear with the feel of Dawson’s fur against his palm.

“Not quite. They demanded that the Marines stop searching for you, or they’d execute you. They offered to release you, if we stopped kicking in doors and chasing down their werewolves.” Tim handed Adam the tablet again.

It was a shock, seeing himself in the video. He had such clear memories of being on the other side of the filming, it was strange to see it from this side. He looked defiant without being aggressive. His expression was determined, as he refused to read those parts of the prepared statement. Adam had completely forgotten he’d referred to the roadblock.

He looked up at Tim. “I was trying to drop a clue.”

Tim smiled. “It worked. We knew you were inside the perimeter of the previous week’s coalition roadblocks. It helped the CIA to focus the search.”

“They kept moving me, though,” Adam said wryly.

With a shrug, Tim said, “The Marines had tightened the noose, so we knew you were being held within an area of a few square miles. The werewolves were relentless trackers, and patrols kept kicking in doors. A few times, they raided a place just hours after you’d been moved.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “They were that close?”

“They were coming to kick in the doors where you were being held, when you magically appeared, running toward them, screaming your head off. Brandt had just enough time to broadcast that he thought they’d found you, when the werewolves engaged each other, and all hell broke loose.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like that wolf fight.” Adam sighed heavily. “Did they capture anyone alive?” He thought about Groucho and Harpo, remembering the Marines exchanging gunfire across the clearing.

Tim shook his head. “All hostiles were neutralized with extreme prejudice.”

Eric snorted. “Why can’t you just say they killed all the motherfuckers?”

Tim’s expression was implacable. “I like my way better.”

Adam chuckled.

He thought about the Marx Brothers. He’d never wished them harm, but he wasn’t upset to find out they were dead. They didn’t cause him physical harm, but they also didn’t let him go.

Adam wished Dawson would shift. He wanted to be able to touch Dawson as a human again.

Tim handed the tablet back to Sergeant Brandt. “Anyway, your captors made contact a few times, trying to demand ransom, but they didn’t understand how to arrange a drop. And then Dawson and Terrell would get close to where you were being held, and the whole song and dance would start over again.”

Sergeant Brandt stood up from his chair. “I have what I need for now. Unless anyone needs something from me, I’ll excuse myself.”

“Thank you, Brandt,” Adam said, realizing he hadn’t expressed his gratitude yet. “Thanks for keeping up the search. I appreciate you looking after my comfort, and making sure Doc took a look at me. And thanks for not shooting me before you knew it was me.” He knew decisions had been made within seconds, and that he’d probably looked like a crazy man.

Brandt waved him off. “No thanks are necessary. We were all just doing our jobs. I’m glad you made it back, and that you’re in pretty good shape, all things considered. You handled yourself well, it sounds like.”

“I don’t know about that,” Adam replied with an embarrassed laugh. “But everyone who helped with the search and rescue has my gratitude.”

With a brisk nod and a wave, Brandt turned to leave. He opened the door in time to admit Terrell Hubbard’s wolf. As soon as Terrell entered, Paul and Jason left the room, the clacking of their claws receding down the corridor. Brandt followed after them. Terrell approached the bed, sniffing at Adam’s bandaged arm. When he was satisfied, he crossed to the mat that Mercer had recently vacated. Will trotted across the room to curl up on the mat left by Rodriguez.

“Changing of the guard?” Eric asked.

Adam chuckled.

Without warning, Dawson climbed down off of the bed. When he reached the door, he easily worked the handle with a front a paw. Without a backward glance, he trotted down the corridor with a clacking of his claws.

“He’ll be back in a little while,” Adam mused. Something told him Dawson had only left to shift and dress. He had faith he’d see him again very soon.

He was suddenly very tired. Adam curled onto his side facing his brothers.

“You look tired, kid,” Eric said softly. “Should we go, so you can get some sleep?”

“No.” Adam shook his head vigorously. “I was isolated for more than a month. I could use the company.”

“You got it. The beard looks good on you.” Eric indicated his own cheek. “You gonna shave it? Or keep it?”

Adam scratched at his cheek. “I was going to shave it, but it doesn’t seem quite as urgent anymore.”

“Wait and see what Dawson thinks about it,” Tim said with a wicked grin. “You might want to keep it.”

Adam felt both of his brothers studying him closely. They already knew he was tired. Christ knew, he had a right to be, so Adam didn’t bother to hide it. These were his brothers; he didn’t need to hide anything from them. He’d forgotten that, while he’d been too busy blaming them for his own guilt.

“I’m still a little worried about you, kid,” Tim finally confessed.

Adam wondered when he’d stopped getting angry at Tim for calling him ‘kid’. “Why is that?”

“You seem too calm. Too accepting of what you were put through.” Tim leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression was intense, but Adam could see the genuine concern underneath. Why had he ignored that concern for so many years? “I’m afraid you’re repressing, putting on a brave face, and that you’re gonna have a meltdown when our backs are turned.”

Adam looked over at Eric. He found him watching closely, his expression mirroring Tim’s. He let his gaze wander around the room as he took stock of what he was feeling. Why didn’t he feel traumatized by what had happened? Shouldn’t he be angry? Resentful? Afraid? Or his personal favorite, guilt.

“What would help reassure you guys that I’m not going to have a freak out when you’re not looking?” Adam asked, glancing back and forth between his brothers.

“What do you feel about the men who were your guards?” asked Tim. “Don’t you have any anger for the men who put you in front of a video camera, and made you think they were going to cut off your head?”

“You have to have feelings about them,” Eric interjected, obviously in sync with Tim’s concerns. “You have to have feelings about what was done to you.”

“I do,” Adam replied emphatically. “Of course I have feelings about them. Machete Man and The Bully were a couple of assholes. Machete Man might have thought he needed to be rough, to keep me in line. But The Bully was a dick on wheels. He enjoyed it.”

Eric looked appalled, but Tim looked surprised and curious.

“Machete Man is obvious,” Tim said. “He was obvious in the video. The Bully seems obvious, too. That was the other guard in the video?”

“Yeah. Then there were Groucho and Harpo, the two I spent the most time with. We couldn’t talk, because of the language barrier. But they seemed like decent guys who had suck-ass jobs. They shared meals with me. Harpo took care of my wound, until we ran out of fresh bandages and penicillin.”