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“Now we find somewhere safe to rest.”
She nodded, then looked at his weapon. “Should I take that?”
“No, honey, I can still aim and fire.”
“Did you hit the man shooting at us?” Like it had just occurred to her, she looked nervously around as though the man might pop out from behind a tree and kill them both.
“Didn’t kill him,” he replied. He would have, but by the time he’d taken Lila to the ground, protecting her body with his own, the man was behind a tree, using it as protection as he continued to fire. Likely he hadn’t expected them to be heavily armed, and when Surf fired back, he’d run.
Would he come back?
Possibly.
But not right now.
“Looks like a small cave over there,” he said, moving to stand.
“Here, let me help.” Lila reached for her crutch and used it as leverage as she pushed to her feet and reached for him, but since she was barely steady on her own feet and his added weight would likely knock her over, Surf took her hand but didn’t do more than hold it as he stood up under his own steam.
Together they limped toward the small rocky space, and Surf wasn’t pleased to find the short walk left him breathing heavily. The wound might not be life-threatening, but it had taken more out of him than he liked.
Positioning them at the back of the cave, Surf pulled out the thermal blanket, tucked Lila against his side, and covered them both. For several long minutes they sat in silence. Lila had her head on his good shoulder, their combined warmth with the thermal blanket was enough to stave off the cold, and if it wasn’t for the pain in his shoulder he could almost believe they were just a couple out enjoying the quiet forest.
But they weren’t just out here for a vacation or a day trip.
They were fighting for their lives.
With nothing else to do right now, Surf felt compelled to talk, to unburden his soul. “My father was a gangbanger,” he said into the silence. Beside him Lila stiffened. Her hand found his beneath the blanket and she laced their fingers together. “He was murdered in front of me when I was four. My mom was an addict, drugs were her life although she drank too, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to get her next fix. She had a parade of men in and out of her life. Some boyfriends, some men who paid her for sex. When she got really desperate, she offered up the only thing she had.”
“Christian,” his name was a harsh whisper as it fell from her lips, understanding exactly what he was saying.
“Men paid good money to have sex with a little boy.” Pain and shame mixed inside him. His first sexual experience was when he was eight years old. Scared, confused, held down by men four, five times his size. He’d been fourteen the first time he voluntarily had sex. He couldn’t even remember the girl other than she was in one of his classes at school. It hadn’t been because he particularly wanted to do it but because he desperately needed to be in control.
The same way after he’d been held captive in Somalia, beaten and tortured, and held against his will, he’d needed to be in control. Meaningless sex was how he convinced himself he was in control of himself and his life, hence the sex binge he’d been on after they were rescued and came home.
That all changed when he met Lila.
“I’m so sorry. I hate so much that happened to you.” Lila’s voice was rough, and when she turned her face against his neck, he could feel it was wet with tears.
“I fought hard to get out of that life. Never took drugs, never even drank. Worked hard in school. Made friends who weren’t part of the gang scene. When it all felt too much, and I was afraid I’d get washed away into the life my parents lived, I went out on the water and surfed.”
“You did more than just get away from that life, Christian,” Lila told him, lifting her head to meet his eye. “You’re a hero. You fought for your country, protect the innocent, and risk your life every day to make the world a better place. You’re my hero.”
Peace settled over him at Lila’s words, and he realized he wasn’t surprised by her acceptance of him, even knowing the dirty secret he’d kept from everyone in his life.
Lila knew.
She understood.
She’d lived through something similar.
Two halves of a whole.
Gathering her close, he ignored the pull on his wound, needing to hold his woman in his arms. Needing to know that he wasn’t alone.
“I’ve got you, Christian,” she murmured as she held on tight.
Surf wasn’t embarrassed to admit his eyes blurred with tears as he cradled his heart in his arms.
