Sweat glistening on his skin, Lincoln finished the last rep in his final set on the bench press and racked the bar. He performed a series of deep breathing exercises before sitting up and checking the time.
In the three hours he’d been working out at the Walker’s Run Resort gym, he still had not figured out how to break the news to Angeline that he was returning to temporary active duty and that he would come back with custody of an eight-year-old boy.
She’d fallen asleep in the truck as they’d left the hospital. He’d hated having to wake her upon parking at the apartment building, but carrying her up three flights of stairs wasn’t a smart idea. He hadn’t practiced carrying more than seventy-five pounds going up and down steps and wouldn’t risk stumbling with her in his arms.
Lincoln had walked Angeline to her door and made her promise to get some rest. Later, they’d have dinner and he would tell her everything and do his best to put her mind at ease.
“Quitting time already?” Zach Taylor racked his bar and sat up. Since announcing his recruitment, he’d joined Lincoln for daily training sessions in the hope of getting a jump start on his physical readiness.
It would take a while before Zach could handle the weight Lincoln did, but the new recruit would be able to hold his own during Basic.
“Yeah, we’re good. You want to push your endurance, but not to the point of exhaustion or injury.” Lincoln grabbed his hand towel and patted down his face, arms and bare chest.
Zach did the same. “Thanks for taking me seriously from the start. You’re the only one who ever did.”
“How are your mom and dad coping?” Angeline seemed to have come to terms with her cousin’s decision, but most parents had a difficult time accepting that they were losing their child to the Program.
“They say they’re proud of me,” he said. “I know they’re scared. But I told them that just because I got accepted into Basic doesn’t mean I won’t wash out before the end of the program.”
True. A lot of recruits wanted to be Dogmen. Few had the tenacity and fortitude to endure the grueling training to the end.
“Washing out isn’t a bad thing.” Lincoln shoved his arms into the sleeves, then stuck his head through the neck of his sweatshirt. “It means your heart is somewhere else and you need to figure out where it is.”
Zach pulled on his long-sleeved T-shirt. “I know exactly where mine is.”
Lincoln knew where his heart was, too. With the ones he wanted to call family.
Zach’s phone pinged and he dug the device out of his duffel bag. “Shane wants to grab an early dinner at Taylor’s. Want to join us?”
“Thanks, but no.”
“I’m in good with the owner.” Zach grinned. “I can get ya a free meal.”
“I have plans. Another time?”
“You got it.” He stood, hooking the strap of his duffel over his shoulder.
Lincoln swiveled on the bench, swinging his good leg to the same side as his artificial one. He dropped his hand towel into his duffel and slung the bag over his shoulder as he stood.
“Come on, pup.” Lincoln used a friendly tone. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I’m not a pup.” Zach gave him a cross look.
“You’re gonna get called that a lot. Get used to it.”
They walked out of the resort gym and took the stairs up to the lobby.
“It’s amazing,” Zach said. “If I didn’t know you, I’d never suspect that you have an artificial leg. It’s not noticeable at all.”
“I notice it.” The stump sleeve and cup felt nothing like his real leg and he was keenly aware of each prosthetic step.
“What’s it like? To lose a limb?” Zach gave him an honest, open look.
Awkward. Frustrating. Humbling.
“Life-changing.” And in more ways than the obvious physical and emotion ramifications of adapting to having only one leg. Because of the injury, he’d been invited to Walker’s Run. Although he’d searched for Angeline after Tanner’s death, Lincoln likely never would’ve met her otherwise. “It helped me find a whole new world to explore.”
They crossed the lobby and exited near the valet station. Lincoln greeted the car jockeys, recognizing two of them as sentinels who were at the bar a few nights ago.
“I have classes tomorrow,” Zach said as they walked between two of the waiting vehicles. “But I’m out at three. Want to meet me here around four?”
Waiting on the median separating the incoming traffic from the outgoing traffic, Lincoln watched a car leaving the self-park lot and drive past them.
“Sounds like a—”
Boom!
Suddenly, Lincoln was standing on the second floor of that abandoned building in Somalia. Bits of glass and plaster and wood flew all around him in slow motion.
“Lila!” He yelled for his second-in-command, his voice loud, clear and panicked. But that was impossible because in his wolf form he couldn’t speak.
His nostrils stung from the spontaneous fire and he could barely breathe because billows of black smoke gobbled up the oxygen. Sensing the percussive wave coming, he scrambled to latch onto something that would keep him from being swept out the window.
Heart pounding, he struggled against the invisible force grabbing and snatching at his chest. He had to get to Lila. Had to save her.
The more he fought to stay upright, the heavier his arms and legs became. He called desperately for Lila, praying she would answer, even though his training had taught him that no one survived an explosion at the point of origin.
Each gasp drew more of the thick black smoke into his lungs. He coughed, trying to get a clear breath. He felt himself slipping.
No! He would not go through that damn window. Not again.
“How is he?”
At the sound of Tristan’s voice, Angeline turned from the hospital room window and smiled at him in the doorway.
“You should be with Nel.”
“She wanted me to check on you and him. I wanted to, too.” Hands in his pockets, he stepped into the room. “Brice and Cassie are with Nel and the baby. If she needs anything, they’ll take care of her until I get back to the room.”
“They just left here.” Still hugging herself, Angeline sank into the chair beside the hospital bed.
“Brice said Lincoln had some sort of episode at the resort.”
“Doc called it a traumatic flashback.” She glanced at Lincoln, sleeping peacefully now, but it had taken a high dose of sedatives to calm him down. “Zach was with him. One of the resort guests drove by them in a car with a cherry-bomb exhaust and intentionally made it backfire. Apparently, it sounded like an explosion.”
Angeline rubbed her shoulders. “Zach said Lincoln suddenly blanked out for second and then started yelling and turning around. The sentinels tried to help, but ended up having to take him down.
“Before they did, Lincoln had broken one man’s nose and cracked another’s ribs.” She took a deep breath. “He could’ve killed them.”
“But he didn’t. And this isn’t his fault.”
“I know.” She nodded.
“Why don’t you grab a bite to eat in the cafeteria? I’ll stay with him.”
“I’m not hungry.” If she tried to eat now, it would sit in her stomach like a rock. “Besides, Lincoln gets restless if I move too far from him.”
“It’s good he knows you’re here.”
“Will this keep him from joining the pack?” Brice had assured Angeline that it wouldn’t, but she had a constant nagging in her gut that wouldn’t go away. “What if Gavin thinks he’s a danger to the pack?”
“No one thinks Lincoln is a threat,” Tristan said. “I’m sure Doc is doing everything he can to help Lincoln.”
“He is.” Still, she couldn’t help feeling that things were about to get worse. Like the universe had decided to play a sick joke on her because she’d fallen in love with another Dogman.
“I’m going to pick up some coffee from the cafeteria. Want some?”
“Sounds good.”
“I won’t be long,” he said, heading out of the room.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She reached between the bed rails and squeezed Lincoln’s hand. He was still too sedated to respond.
Someone knocked at the door.
“Forget something?” She turned. “Oh! Damien.”
“I came as soon as I heard. I was tagging along with some of the sentinels on patrol.” He walked into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. “How is he?”
“Physically fine.” His mental state had her worried. What if the episode had triggered some sort of psychosis and he couldn’t find his way back to the real world?
“I guess you really are his guardian angel.”
“What do you mean?”
“The picture of you he carries in his pocket. It goes everywhere he goes. He told us that you were his guardian angel and as long as you were with him, everything would be all right.”
“What picture?”
“It’s an old faded photo. I think you were sitting in a café because you were holding a large foam coffee cup and there’s a pastry on the plate in front of you.”
“It couldn’t be me. I didn’t know Lincoln before he came to Walker’s Run.”
“Oh, it’s you.” Damien tucked his hands into his pockets. “If the team was here, they’d all agree.”
“Your Dogman team?”
“Yep. In fact, a couple of times when we were pinned down by hostile fire, the lieutenant would ask Cap if his angel was still in his pocket.” Damien laughed. “We did all kinds of crazy shit. Sometimes one of us caught a bullet or two, or some shrapnel, but nothing too serious. Until—” he shrugged “—the explosion.”
It didn’t make sense. “Where would Lincoln get an old picture of me?”
“Off a dead guy is what I heard.”
Angeline’s heart froze, but her stomach churned nauseous waves. The man couldn’t have been Tanner. What were the odds?
Why hadn’t Lincoln told her? About the picture? About the man?
“How long is he going to be out?” Damien tapped the bottom of Lincoln’s foot.
Lincoln showed no sign of waking up.
“He’ll probably sleep through the night.” At least, that was what Doc had said.
“I’m going to meet up with some of the sentinels for dinner. I’ll check on him later.”
Damien nodded his goodbye and Angeline was glad for him to leave. She’d always felt a sense of unease around him and he hadn’t earned any brownie points with his revelation.
Quietly, she closed the door and then searched through Lincoln’s things. She found no photo in his pants’ pockets or duffel bag, so she opened his wallet. Three photos were stuffed in the card slots.
One was of an adorable little boy with a short crop of Afro-textured hair. His face radiated with pure joy as Lincoln, kneeling on one knee, gave him a tight hug. One of the sweetest things Angeline had ever seen, the tender moment tugged at her heart.
Dogmen did not claim mates while in the Program, so the child obviously could not be Lincoln’s biological son. But even in the photo, Angeline could see the two were bonded. It must’ve broken Lincoln’s heart to have left him behind. It broke hers just thinking about it.
The second photo was a group picture of Lincoln and five others standing in front of a tank. All were dressed in camouflage pants and T-shirts, wearing mirrored sunglasses, bulletproof vests and holding assault rifles. His team. As in the photo with the boy, Angeline could see the bond between the soldiers.
She didn’t see Damien in the group, but Lincoln stood next to a woman with his arm casually draped across her shoulder. Lila?
More petite and not at all how Angeline had pictured her, the woman had to be Lila. Lincoln had mentioned she had been his best friend. And according to Zach, she had been the one Lincoln had called out for several times during his traumatic flashback.
Jealousy nipped at Angeline’s heart but she ignored the feeling in favor of the empathy she had for Lincoln losing two important people in his life.
Removing the third photo, Angeline dropped the wallet. Her hand flew to her mouth to silence the gasps.
Tanner had taken the snapshot on their first date at the café on campus.
Tears stung her eyes. She’d assumed when Tanner had left her for the Program that he’d gotten rid of any reminders of her and the time they’d spent together. But if Damien was right and Lincoln had taken the photo from a dead man, then he must’ve been with Tanner when he died.
Heart hurting, she walked to Lincoln’s bedside. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Whatever his reason to hide the truth, when he woke up, Angeline expected answers.