She kept quiet and listened.
"They tied me up, and beat me so badly that the first night I couldn't see out of my right eye. I figured my days of flying were over-if I even made it out alive."
Lindsey clung tighter to him and it made the story so much easier to tell with her there with him. Maybe she was healing him in a way he hadn't realized he'd needed healing. He was supposed to be there for her, but she was growing on him in a way that should be a lot more terrifying than it was.
"The next few days were hell. I heard soldiers screaming in pain, and once in a while I heard the gurgling of men's dying breaths filled with blood. Those sounds will never leave me."
"No, I guess they wouldn't," she said so quietly he barely heard the words.
The fire continued crackling. They were in a cocoon the rest of the world wasn't allowed to enter. He wouldn't mind keeping it that way forever. It would just be the two of them.
"After a few days, I was sure I was going to die. My only regret was that I hadn't been able to save the other men in the prison. I focused on their pain instead of my own. There were a few female soldiers there, and I can't even explain the torture they were subjected to. There are rules to war, and these people weren't following them."
He wouldn't speak of all that had happened in that prison. It was too much for civilians to handle. Hell, it was too much for many of the military crew to handle. That's why a lot of the soldiers still weren't doing okay, even after years of being back home. That's why he'd had to start his organization to help as many as he could. Too many were forgotten about.
"How many people were there?" she asked.
"I don't know how many when I first got there. By the time we were found by a special ops team and rescued, there were ten of us left-nine soldiers and a journalist who ended up succumbing to his injuries before leaving the camp."
"Do you keep in contact with them?"
"The four of us who are left do. Two died later from complications, and the others . . ."
He stopped speaking because this part of the story might not have been the best idea for him to share.
"They took their own lives, didn't they?" she asked.
"Yeah, it happens too often after people return from war-especially after being captured and tortured." Anger filled Maverick even thinking about the loss of good men and women. More should be done to protect those who serve-who keep the country safe for everyone.
"I'm so sorry, Mav. I know I can't, but I want to take away some of the pain."
"I deal with it. Sometimes I still have nightmares. The voices of the men and women screaming-strong soldiers who were weeping like babies . . ." He trailed off, took a breath, and continued. "Certain days make it all come back to the front, such as Veterans Day, Independence Day."
"But you stayed in the military after it happened?"
He couldn't explain why he felt so determined to stay in the military. A lot of soldiers couldn't go back-and they weren't expected to. They had done more than enough for the people of the United States. But after his recovery, there had never been any question that he'd return to duty.
"Most men and women I've talked to feel the same. We love what we do, we love making the country a safer place for everyone. I just think of all the lives that are saved because of what we do. I wouldn't change that. Does my job come with more risks than a desk job? Well, yeah. But it's war. And war sucks."
"Would you go back to overseas?" He could hear the fear in her voice and it hurt his heart.
"When I first got back, I would have said yes, for sure. It wasn't a matter of would I or wouldn't I. It was a matter of what was right and what's wrong. I would have done anything that needed to be done."
"Is that different now?"
She seemed to be holding her breath as she asked this question. He realized it was important. So he really thought about his answer. He flexed the arm still in a cast from his recent injury.
"I'm thinking of leaving the Air Force. I spend more and more time with my organization, and I realize it's my true calling now. I don't like to quit anything, but I'm not as young as I used to be, and my priorities have changed."
"What does that mean?" she asked him.
Again he had to think. What did that mean? He wasn't exactly sure. He just knew that his love of flying was still strong, but maybe it wasn't the strongest thing anymore. He was different now.
Seeming to know he was struggling, she asked another question. "Did you take time off when you returned?"
"I had no choice. I had a broken bone and was malnourished. But I was ready to get back to work. I haven't gone back to Iraq since that capture. It was five years ago. But I still fly my jet, and now I work with newbies. Before I joined the Air Force, I was a punk, doing nothing to make a better world for anybody but myself. Even when I joined, I still had attitude."
"What changed?" Her hand rubbing along his leg was both a comfort and a distraction. This woman did something to him-took away pain he didn't even know he still carried. She made him feel whole again. And he didn't fail to notice that she was touching him without prompting. Already they had come so far together. She wanted to heal.
"For one thing, attitude doesn't do you a bit of good during boot camp. Sure, it might piss you off enough to get through the workouts and the sergeants screaming in your face, but it will only get more work added on for you and the rest of the men, which in turn pisses them off. What really changed it for me, though, was respect. I had respect for my commander and he had faith in me. He saw something in me that I hadn't seen before. It made me believe in myself. And when I found out I could fly F-18s if I worked real hard, that changed it all. I had a goal to work for, and I didn't stop until I reached that goal."
She chuckled. The sound was the most beautiful music he'd heard in a long time. He knew it wasn't something she shared too often anymore. It made him close his arms a little bit tighter around her.
"I bet you still haven't stopped," she told him.
"I haven't even thought about slowing down until recently," he said against her ear, enjoying it when a shiver traveled through her.
"It seems that you have a lot of extreme circumstances in life that make you take new routes," she said. "What changed for you this time?"
"Some things are best left secret," he said as he kissed the smooth column of her neck.
Then he went silent as he held her, letting his story sink in. He just wanted to enjoy this moment, holding her in his arms without her fighting him. She relaxed even more against him and Mav knew his life was changing.
He couldn't help but think of his father, of what the old man had wanted for his sons. Money wasn't an issue for any of the boys-hadn't been an issue even before the reading of the will. That hadn't been what his father was trying to get them to understand.
He now realized that his father had wanted to save them all. He'd wanted them to be better people. For a long time, Mav had thought joining the military had been what made him a better person. Now, he realized that, with his resources, his mission had changed. He could help so many more people by being on the ground than being in the air.
His new attitude had a lot to do with the woman in his arms. If he could feel so strongly about her-about helping this one person-then couldn't the two of them together do the same for so many others?
"Please help me with this fund-raiser," he said. "I can keep pushing you, and keep forcing myself in, but I want you to want to do it. I want you to be a part of it willingly, and I want to show you a side of me that I don't show anyone."
He knew he was giving too much of himself up, but he couldn't seem to stop. Mav found his breath stuck in his throat as he waited for her answer. This was a defining moment between the two of them.
He felt her begin to pull away from him and he wanted to clasp his arms even more tightly around her, but then he would be taking away her free will and he'd just vowed not to do that.
This was her decision and he would respect her for it-no matter the cost to himself.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Hearing Maverick tell her about his time of being captured tore Lindsey apart inside. As she moved away from him, she knew she didn't want to feel this bond with him, but she did. She felt a connection to him unlike anything she'd felt with another person.
She also knew what he was asking her. She knew this fund-raiser had so much more to do with them than it did a single project. Was she willing to take a trip down this road she wasn't sure of?
Lindsey found that she wanted to. But at the moment, she felt safe and cozy, having relaxed for the first time in months. She had to wonder, would she still feel the same about wanting to chair the fund-raiser when she was lying alone in her bed later that night? That was the real question.