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“I don’t understand. No one here has asked to hire us. I’m volunteering my help to Special Agent Jenkins. She’s not paying me to be here.”
“Right,” Stone said. “Hank doesn’t always charge for the services we provide. He and Sadie are committed to seeing justice served regardless of a client’s ability to pay. They think it’s more important to protect, rescue and extract first. If the client can afford to pay, good. If not, Hank and Sadie will make sure you get paid. Money isn’t a factor in whether or not we’ll take a case.”
“Are you serious?” Cliff asked.
Stone laughed. “As a heart attack. Knowing Sadie, Hank’s wife, she’d be the first to insist you help get that baby back to its mother. They have two children of their own.”
Warmth filled Cliff’s chest and spread throughout his body. For the first time since the explosion that had killed his friend and changed his life, he felt a sense of purpose.
Ever since Syria, he’d wondered why Dutton had died, and he’d been spared.
Was this why? Was he meant to leave the Navy and land in Bozeman with Gus’s gallstones and a panic attack that sent him plowing into Jenna Jenkins?
“Anything you need, let us know,” Stone continued. “Or go directly to Hank. They’re a little closer. If you need weapons, communications devices or backup, all you have to do is call. We’re a team and can deploy to any situation on short notice.”
A smile playing across his lips, Cliff said, “I believe I’ve made the right choice.”
“And what choice is that?” Stone asked.
“Signing on with Brotherhood Protectors.”
Again, Stone laughed. “We’ve all felt the same. Now, go find that baby. We’ll be in contact with any information we can find. And let me tell you, Kyla and Swede can tap into data not all law enforcement agencies can access. If there’s info to be found, they’ll find it.”
“Good to know,” Cliff said. “The sooner they can get us a lead, the better.”
“And Cliff,” Stone went on, “Are you still having nightmares and day terrors?”
Cliff stiffened. “How do you know about that?” His health records were supposed to be private.
Stone sighed. “When I said Swede and Kyla have access to data…well, suffice it to say, I’ve read your file. PTSD is real. Don’t ignore it. Sometimes, talking about what you’re feeling can help. If not with a therapist, then with a friend. Someone who has been, and still is, working through his own issues.”
“You have flashbacks?” Cliff asked.
“I do,” Stone said. “There are nights the dreams make me wake up swinging, or I have to force myself awake to keep from reliving the death of my best friend. We’ve seen too much. Lived through horrors most folks who’ve never served will never experience. It leaves wounds that may never heal. Wounds to our souls.”
Cliff’s chest was so tight he could barely breathe. Stone’s words were spot on. “Do the nightmares ever go away?” Cliff asked. Or the day terrors that send him spinning into a panic attack?
“I doubt they’ll ever go away,” Stone said softly. “They do come less often. Again, if you need someone to talk to, any one of us will listen and do anything we can to help.”
“Thanks,” Cliff said. “I need to get back to Jenna.”
“Right,” Stone said. “Out here.”
“Out here,” Cliff echoed as if they were communicating on radio headsets, not cell phones.
He pressed the button to sever the connection and stared down at the device in his hand.
Gus would be on his way to the Brighter Days Rehab ranch to work on his physical and mental recovery from injuries incurred during that explosion in Syria. Cliff admired the man for his courage to admit he needed help.
Cliff had convinced himself he could power through the panic attacks and heal himself over time. The hours he’d spent with the therapist after they’d redeployed following the Syrian mission had given him some techniques to use when he felt a panic attack coming on. Too often, things happened fast, and he wasn’t able to apply those techniques to slow or avoid the outcome.
The psychiatrist had prescribed medicine to help, but Cliff hadn’t liked the way it made him feel and had stopped taking it after less than a week.
He hoped he didn’t lose his shit to a panic attack while working with the FBI agent. He needed to be operating at one hundred percent to give his best effort to the search and recovery of one newborn infant. He’d promised Jenna they’d bring her niece home. He refused to fail at this mission.
He pocketed his cell phone and pulled his credit card out of his wallet.
His stomach rumbled as he stood in front of the snack machine. Slipping his credit card into the slot, he studied the options. After a moment, he selected a package of powdered donuts, a honeybun and a bag of potato chips and removed his credit card from the reader.
