Bound to Break: Men of Honor, Book 6 (12 page)

“Then what do we talk about?”

“Why don’t you tell me about South Africa?”

That was, for the most part, a good memory, and he smiled involuntarily.

“Anything that makes you smile like that is definitely worth talking about, so yes, let’s talk about that,” Cooper murmured.

For the next several hours, Lucky did.

Chapter Twelve

Cooper went to his desk, flipped through the papers for a few minutes. He was muttering to himself—Dash caught something about all the goddamned paperwork and the goddamned caseload and then he grabbed a coffee cup and drank it down. Grimaced.

Dash had been there. Sometimes, you needed caffeine more than taste buds.

“Do you think he’s lying?” he asked now.

Cooper nearly choked, put a hand over his heart and the cup down. He turned to see Dash sitting on the desk.

“Trying to kill me?”

“If I was…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’d already be dead. Got it.” Cooper picked at the edge of Lucky’s file. “I figured they’d send you.”

“I figured they’d just tell you.”

“That too. The fact that this is all confidential doesn’t matter to you?”

“Not to the CIA. And that’s who you chose to work for.”

“Lucky thinks I work for the Navy.”

“I’m betting he’s smart enough to realize that nothing around here is anything close to what it seems.”

Cooper rubbed his chin. “Didn’t realize the CIA could break the goddamned patient confidentiality rules.”

“Even if the man being investigated might be a risk to national security?”

Cooper sighed. “Either he’s got amnesia or he’s the best liar I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of them. And none of you can fool me.”

“None of us?”

“You all have a tell.”

“What’s mine?”

“I’m not sharing that with you. But you do have one. And the reason you’re here has less to do with the job and more to do with your feelings for Lucky.”

“That’s a guess.”

“I don’t guess,” Cooper told him. “I don’t think he’s lying. I believe he’s got zero memory before four years ago. And I’m not sure if bringing his memory back is in anyone’s best interest.”

Dash nodded. “Keep trying anyway. No one’s interested in your personal opinions.”

“Fuck you, Dash.”

“Cooper…”

“If you think he’s just a job, you’re lying to yourself.”

Yes, he was, but the last person he’d admit it to was the company shrink. “Do you think he’ll get his memory back?”

“We’ve been trying a lot of techniques and he’s been open to them. But if sodium pentothal isn’t working—”

“Hypnosis?”

“He can’t be hypnotized.”

“Because he was trained not to be?”

“Maybe. Who can say? There are civilians who can’t be hypnotized.”

“I saw his brain scans.”

“There’s damage. Mild, but it’s near the memory bank. It makes sense that nothing else is really affected except his pain sensors.”

“What’s that about?” Dash asked.

“He feels pain more easily because his body’s always on alert—damaged nerve endings. Hard to tell if that’s from the brain injury or the beatings he endured.”

Dash couldn’t help but wince.

“I saw the scars. He stripped for me.”

Dash felt the lunge of jealousy, and he took a step toward Cooper before he could stop himself. Cooper merely grinned.

“Don’t hurt him, Coop.”

“Not in the job description, Dash. Unless he’s got plans to hurt his country.”

“So if he’s not getting his memory back, can he leave?”

“Soon, yes.”

“Got to be more to the story.”

“We’re not letting him out of the Navy yet. He can stay in town, meet with me, and the Navy will subsidize him with disability. Has to check in with me weekly.”

“What’s he supposed to do?”

Cooper shrugged. “He’s got full access to the gym.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m planning on releasing him to an apartment right off base next week. There’s no reason for us to keep him when his brain scan shows damage that supports his memory loss. He hasn’t slipped up a single time in two months—and trust me, we’ve done everything we could beyond recreating the torture. Plus, we’ve interrogated his SEAL teammates. There’s nothing suspicious. Nothing even remotely so.”

“Except that he was dumped near my family, Cooper,” he growled, and Cooper tilted his head in acknowledgement. “How can I ever trust that he wasn’t put there to hurt them?”

“I’m not saying the terrorist who captured Lucky didn’t try to turn him. We don’t know what happened between the boat and the beach, and we might never know.”

The terrorist was named Allen Gonzalves—they didn’t say his name out loud. Dash had buried it deeply, or else he would’ve turned into a machine bent solely on revenge.

Allen Gonzalves and his army ruined men’s lives. And he was still out there.

“You still haven’t told him why he’s really here,” Dash said. “He thinks it’s because he’s highly trained. He’s worried he might have a temper, might kill someone accidentally. When are you going to tell him he’s suspected of being a traitor?”

“He knows that much.”

“But he doesn’t know everything. You need to tell him that and see what happens.”

“I have a plan, Dashiell. He’s been hinting about talking to Rex. I’m going to let him when he comes right out and asks.”

It wasn’t a bad idea—hearing it come from Rex could trigger memories. But hell, that would be one painful session. “And after that? Suppose it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’re done.”

“That’s it? You won’t keep trying to get Lucky’s memories back?” Dash asked.

“If it doesn’t trigger anything, we’re going to keep trying to get the memories back. But I think if he’s got some freedom, maybe we’ll find out more.”

“Loosen the leash,” Dash said.

“Yes. And I’ve got some other plans for him. But I wanted him to have someone with him who he feels might be on his side.”

“And that’s me?”

“I’m guessing you’re going to be his personal bodyguard?” Cooper asked.

“Why would you say that?”

“That’s what your supervisor told me when he called.”

“You’re still an asshole, Coop, you know that?”

“Have to be to keep up with all of you.”

Chapter Thirteen

“I want to talk with my old teammates. Can I do that?” Lucky asked Cooper. After three more weeks of various psych tests, including and not limited to sodium pentothal, hypnosis and lie detector tests, all of which yielded zero results and more frustration for him, he was ready to see if hearing about an actual memory of his might trigger an avalanche.

“I can arrange that.”

“But I’ll have to do it on tape, right?”

“Not if they come in here.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yes, I would. I agree that it might help and it definitely won’t hurt. And I can understand you having reservations about sharing things with outsiders, because you don’t know what you might not be able to say. Like, about your relationship with Rex.”

“I know Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’s been repealed, but…”

“But you were on the same team and that might be frowned upon. Granted, neither of you were officers, so you can’t be accused of fraternizing, and you were the same rank,” Cooper said. Lucky took all that information and filed it away in his brain.

He was going to need to start keeping a binder of all the people, places and things Josh had in his life.

Now, twenty-four hours later, Lucky sat with Rex on the couch. Nate and Uncle would come in for the next session, but since Rex knew the most about him, Cooper said this would be better as a one on one.

A one on one with Cooper sitting behind his desk trying to give them as much privacy as possible.

“Thanks for doing this,” Lucky said, staring at the big man with the shaved head and the intense gaze.

“We’ve been trying to see you—me and Nate and Uncle.”

Lucky felt his throat tighten that these men, who knew they were total strangers to him, would be waiting there to help him.

“Cooper told me that you haven’t been able to remember anything. He said I can answer your questions, but I can’t offer any information you don’t ask about. And if anything I say triggers your memories…”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

“Smartass,” Rex muttered.

“Was I always?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Lucky slid his hands together, glad they’d started out on that note. Rex opened one of the sodas on the table in front of them and handed it to Lucky. Lucky took a sip as Rex opened one of his own, telling Lucky, “Your life wasn’t anything to be scared about.”

“Okay, yeah. What about my family? Are they freaking out about this? Have they even been told?”

Rex took a long drink from his soda. “I was your family, Lucky. Still am.”

“I’m an orphan?”

“Yes. You came up through the foster-care system—you were abandoned as an infant.”

“Where?”

Rex shifted. “You were left in a box in the hallway of an apartment building. They estimated you were maybe an hour old. No one ever came forward to claim you.”

“And I wasn’t adopted?”

“Almost. But you were pulled from a few placements. You never knew why. Maybe it was abuse. Who knows. But you went into group homes.”

“And then I went into the Navy.”

“You enlisted at seventeen when you got kicked out of the system and a judge signed off on your papers. You enlisted in the Navy because you wanted to fly helos. And you were on that track until you showed other proficiencies. And that’s when they put you into BUD/s and no matter how bad it got—and it got bad—you refused to quit.” Rex tilted his head. “You didn’t ask me what BUD/s was.”

Lucky smiled. “I do have access to a computer. And the Navy’s website.” He slid a glance toward Cooper who said, “You’re not supposed to have access.”

Rex snickered.

“Okay, so why didn’t I quit? Couldn’t I have gone back to flying choppers then?”

“Probably. They always say there’s no shame in ringing out. They’d rather you know your limits before you put a teammate at risk.”

“I don’t get it. I put myself through Hell Week so I could go through more hell—”

“I found you researched Hell Week on my computer’s history,” Cooper interjected.

“—on every single mission,” Lucky finished. “Why?”

“You told me it was because you didn’t know any other way,” Rex told him quietly.

“What the hell did I go through in foster care?” Lucky asked. “Or is this something else you’re going to tell me it’s better I don’t remember?”

Rex sighed. Rubbed his shaved head.

“Forget it.”

“I don’t want to be the one who has to tell you all the bad shit. That’s how you’re going to know me.”

“I thought you think of me as family?” Lucky asked. “Don’t they always say no one hurts you more, knows you better than family? Because I’d rather hear this shit from you than from some random shrink. Unless I’m not considered your family anymore.”

“I will always consider you family,” Rex said, his voice raw. “Don’t doubt that.”

Lucky nodded.

“You were pretty knocked around as a kid. You had a special knack for finding trouble. And I think that’s why you ended up being so good at evading the truth, because it stopped you from getting into trouble. And then you got big, so they stopped hitting you. But you were too big and a lot of the families didn’t want you, even though you were gentle. So you stayed in group homes and you found ways to keep yourself occupied.”

“Is that a nice way of saying I broke the law?”

Rex snorted. “Yes.”

“What do I know how to do?”

“You can hotwire cars faster than anyone I’ve met. You were good at anything mechanical. You could rebuild engines and make them purr. I’m betting that if I put you in a garage, you’d know exactly what to do.”

“If they ever let me out of here, I’ll take you up on it.” He paused. “Are we going to be in trouble because we were together?”

“Coop’s not going to say anything to the top brass. This is more to help you,” Rex said.

Lucky looked at Cooper, who still had his head down, taking notes.

“And I won’t hold the random shrink comment against you,” Cooper said, without looking up.

“So we met in BUD/s. I’m guessing we got close. But is that when we got together?”

Rex nodded. “We had a friendship. It all happened fast and furious. Hell Week does that, forms strong bonds. And after that, it was work and sex, and everything melded together.”

Lucky stared at the big man, tried to imagine being in his arms. Rex was attractive as hell and maybe if Dash wasn’t constantly in the forefront of his mind he wouldn’t have to imagine an attraction. It would simply be there. But right now…nothing. “Did we fight?”