Corps Security, The Series (1)(19)

God, I can’t breathe. I look up into Greg’s worried eyes. I know what he sees when he looks down into mine—absolute raw terror and fear. A fear that I am back in that place and terror that Brandon has finally found me.

Gasping to catch a small slice of oxygen down into my lungs, I start clawing at his arms, trying my hardest to get away. I have to run. I have to hide. If Brandon is here, he won’t stop until he kills me this time.

“Fuck,” Greg spits out. “Mother FUCKING fuck!” He is pulling me closer to his body, trying with great desperation to calm me down. I try to soak up his warmth the best I can, attempting to almost crawl inside his body, but none of it is touching me. I feel like my body is being filled with ice, filling me completely to my soul with ice-cold fear. I can almost drown in the memory-induced terror; it is completely taking over my body and mind.

“Fuck,” Greg rumbles again. He sounds so worried. I wish I had the words to reassure him that I’m okay, but what a laughable reassurance that would be.

We both know I am not okay; I am so far from okay I might as well be in another country. I haven’t had an episode like this in a long time; not since the early months after leaving Brandon. I have been doing so well at beating back the panic and finally seeing the light of peace. In fact, yesterday’s breakdown after the ‘present from hell’ was the first time I have felt the claws of fear take hold in months.

“Locke, come here, man. Hold her for a second so I can go bash that motherfucker in the goddamn head.” Greg softly throws his request over to Maddox. I guess he has had enough of watching me come unglued. It can’t be easy for him to watch the aftereffects of a beaten and broken woman. After he first witnessed one of my panic attacks, I remember he wouldn’t leave for days. He kept his hawklike eyes trained on my every move, just waiting for me to crumble.

I feel my body being lifted and then set down within a new set of steel bands. Maddox hooks one arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his chest, taking my legs and pulling them up close to my body before wrapping his other arm in tight. I feel almost infantile in his arms as he starts to hum a slow tune. I never expected him and his hard exterior to be so understanding and nurturing.

Finally feeling some of the panic recede, I take what feels like my first gulp of air in hours, willing my heart to settle. Maybe it’s his warmth or the way this big hard man curled me in tight and started to softly sing under his breath. Maybe it’s just the fact that I don’t want this new person to see how completely fucked up I am. But he finally calms me down enough to feel the stress and exhaustion of the situation start taking over. Looking up, I meet the concerned dark depths of Maddox’s eyes.

“You okay, girl?

“No,” I whisper back to him.

What an absurd question. If I could, I would belt out one hell of a laugh.

I don’t think I will ever be okay again.

I tuck my head back down onto Maddox’s chest and hope for a miracle.

Axel

You have got to be fucking kidding me. What are the odds, after this long? Isabelle fucking West. I am still at a loss over this new intel. My goddamn Izzy is Greg’s friend who needs help? No, that’s not right. She isn’t mine anymore. She stopped being mine when she couldn’t wait for me, couldn’t hold on for just a few months. She stopped being mine the day I finally found her—married to another fucking man.

Fuck! How is it possible that the Isabelle I knew all those years ago is the same woman Greg gave me the rundown on yesterday. He described a scared, innocent, and very broken woman. The Izzy I knew would never let a person break her spirit. Hell, in the three years she was my girl, even I had a hard time keeping that spirit from overtaking me. She was so full of life and happiness. No fucking way this is the same girl.

When Greg called me yesterday to have a chat, he explained that his girl was in trouble. And not the kind of trouble a girl needs to be in. I didn’t have the time yesterday to sit down and get the details, being in the middle of moving across the country and setting up shop with Greg; things are insane. I had finally handed over the West Coast operations of Corps Security just a few days ago, quickly jumping in my truck and heading east. I had bought my house quickly and we had just signed the lease on the new office space. Now all that is left is getting set up with Greg and becoming familiar with his case load. There is an endless backlog of people requesting consultations for investigative work. Luckily it hasn’t taken much to convince Locke, Beck, and Coop to pick up and start over in Georgia with me.

During our quick meeting yesterday, he filled me in on the very hazy issue. He had a good friend escaping a bad marriage. How bad, I don’t yet know. She has been living here for about two years and during the last six months has been having a back and forth battle for divorce. The bastard doesn’t want to let go. Greg said that it hasn’t been a big issue until yesterday when she got a fucked-up picture in the mail. He explained it to me. The ex sounds like one sick fuck and enough of a threat for me to tell him to set something up.