Page 5 of Charlotte
How in the world did she end up here? Why would the gun runners have an American woman tied up and then dump her out? Was she just a distraction to get us off their trail? She looks like she’s been through hell. I pull out my Strider knife and cut the binding on her wrists and ankles. Being careful not to make her injuries worse, I slip my arms under her body and scoop her up bride style and carry her to the Humvee.
The guys are all watching me as I settle into the passenger seat with her in my lap. I cradle her to me as I bark out orders to load up, notify the SEAL team of our status, and to head to the nearest safe house with medical supplies. Deadeye my second in command takes the driver seat, eyeing me suspiciously. Once all the team is on board, he puts the Humvee in gear and takes off in the direction of the safe house. I know they are all curious about my actions. As their leader, I don’t usually care for the civilians we encounter or rescue for that matter, but there is just something about this woman that stirs my interest. There is no way I will let anyone else care for her. Only me.
Once we arrive at our destination, I carry her into the bathroom of the first bedroom. Placing her down on the tiled floor, I turn on the water to the tub. She is covered in dirt and blood. Her breathing is labored and her pulse if rapid. Her clothes are torn in places. Deadeye follows me into the bathroom, helps me get her undressed and lowered into the bathtub. Keeping my arm behind her back along the shoulder blades to keep her head above water, I begin to wash away the grime. She would probably be mortified to know two strange men were giving her a bath, but it is necessary to get the grime off so I can see what kind of injuries we are dealing with.
As I wash away the dirt and blood, bruising in various stages of healing become visible. Her eyes are swollen. There are several deep abrasions along her forehead. It takes several attempts to get all the dried blood off her face. It has several lacerations and her nose has been broken as well as the busted lip. I move down to her chest and see the bruising of bite marks on her breasts. They look fresh. My blood boils and red flashes before my eyes. They have violated her. I will kill them all.
The feel of broken ribs as I rub the washcloth over her torso makes me sick. Large areas of purple discoloration covers her sides and abdomen. There is bruising in the shape of a boot print on her right lower back. She has fresh fingerprint bruises on her hips and thighs. Blood drains from her lower lips. Bile rises in my throat, but I manage to swallow it back and continue what needs to be done. I can’t allow myself to think about what those men have done to her.
Once her body is clean, I reposition her to wash her hair. The water runs a brownish-red as we wash away the blood and dirt that is caked in her hair. She has a couple of deep lacerations on her scalp. They look like they have been there for a while and infection has set up. After we have gotten her washed and dried off, I carry her to the bed and place one of my t-shirts over her body and we slip some boxer shorts on her lower half for modesty.
Deadeye gets the med kit out and begin to dress the lacerations. Straw comes in and gets an IV started. He hangs some fluids and antibiotics. Using a stethoscope, I listen to her breathing to see if I hear any dead space that would indicate a collapsed lung. Feeling confident that we have done all we can for the poor woman, I settle in a chair at her bedside to wait and hope against hope we have gotten to her in time. It feels bizarre that I am this drawn to a stranger, but there is an undeniable connection to her that makes me want to protect her, keep her safe. I look to see if she is wearing rings to indicate she has someone waiting for her, but her left ring finger is bare.
“Hawk? You want me to take first watch?” Deadeye asks as he nears the bed.
“No, I’ve got her.” I reply. He knows to let it be. Even though I haven’t slept much for a couple of days when I set my mind to something there is no changing it. He shrugs and follows Straw out to help the team and make sure everything is secure. There’s no doubts. The best men in the Marines are on our team. I never have to worry they aren’t doing what needs to be done.
Time passes slowly as I wait for her to regain consciousness. Her breathing is steady, but I have noticed some rattling at times, and she has developed a fever. Using cool wash clothes, I wipe her down to cool her skin. We haven’t been able to give her anything for the fever since she hasn’t awakened enough to swallow any Tylenol. Worry has become a constant state for me. Will she live to make it out of here? Yes, she will make it out alive and back home, if it’s the last the last thing I ever do.
Chapter 5
Charlotte
When willthis pain be over? I’m so tired of hurting. Why don’t they just kill me already? What did I do to deserve this? I am basically a good person. I try to help others; I donate to the Salvation Army at Christmas and always get a couple of angels from the angel tree. I know I’m not perfect, but come on, do I really deserve this? I must have voiced my ramblings out loud, because a deep rumbling voice said, “No, love, you don’t deserve what they have done to you.”
My eyes fly open to see the beautiful green eyes looking down at me. I try to scoot away but I’m so weak my efforts are pathetic. The most handsome looking man I have ever laid eyes on, smiles down at me. Am I dreaming again?
“You are safe, love. Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you.” I’m confused. He is not one of my captors. It’s the man from my daydreams. I look around to see where I’m at. The room isn’t very large, but clean. There is a small window to my left where the sunlight is streaming in providing light. There are few furnishings in here. A table sits beside the bed and a few folding chairs are scattered around. I see an open door in the wall on my right that appears to lead to a bathroom. I’m in a large bed with the softest sheets, or perhaps they just feel soft since I have been sleeping on the ground for God knows how long. I notice I have an IV dripping into my left arm. It still hurts to breath, but I can at least get some air in my lungs.
“Where am I?” I croak. My voice is weak. My mouth is so dry. My throat feels like it is covered in shards of glass, it hurts when I try to swallow. When did I last have water? Or food for that matter?
“The Columbian jungle at a safe house.” The gorgeous man declares. “I’m Staff Sargent Jordan Jackson, US Marine Corp, but my guys call me, Hawk. You are with a group of Marines and Navy SEALs. Can you tell me who you are and why you were laying in the middle of a trail in the jungle tied up and beaten half to death?”
As the bed dips down, I look to see the green-eyed man sit down beside my right hip on the bed. He is truly a handsome man. His black hair has smatterings of grey and is longer than I would expect a military man to have, but it looks just right to run your fingers through it. His face is now covered with a thick black beard and mustache again with streaks of grey. My gaze travels down the length of his body that is visible, and it is just miles and miles of muscle. I wonder if he has a 6 pack of abs. Large thigh muscles bulge and flex as he adjusts himself on the bed. As my eyes return to look at this handsome man, they stop at his lips. His lips look so warm and soft. What they would feel like against mine? What he would taste like? His thick beard and trimmed mustache cause me to imagine what they would feel like on my inner thighs as he devours me.
He is staring at me with his eyebrows raised in question. He did ask me a question, didn’t he? And I was ogling him, having wicked thoughts. What is wrong with me? This is so not the time to be having these kinds of thoughts. I lick my dry and cracked lips to moisten them without success. He notices my feeble attempt and reaches over me to the nightstand and picks up a cup. He slides his arm behind my shoulders and helps me to sit up.
“Go easy, only small sips.” His voice rumbles through his chest and into my body, doing wicked things to my lady parts. “You will get sick if you drink too fast.” When I have taken a few sips, I tell him my story.
“My name is Charlotte Williams,” I wince as I try to take a deep breath, but I continue. I tell him about myself, the girl, and the events leading up to my capture. “Once I realized there was no friend it was too late. I was ambushed, beaten into unconsciousness, and taken away. Wait! Did you say Columbia? How did I end up here? That’s a long way from Guatemala, right?”
“Yes, it’s quite a long way. When were you taken?” Hawk asked.
“June 2nd. We had been in country for about a week when I was taken.” I reply. “What day is it?”
“August 20th.”
“Oh God! It’s been that long? Everyone must think I’m dead. I have to let my kids know I’m alive and my employer, if I even still have a job. Oh Lord! My bills and my patients at the clinic. Do you have a phone? I need to start calling people, “I rattle on until his laugh cuts me off.
Hawk chuckles, “Calm down. We will get word out as soon as we can. You need to rest and gain your strength so we can move you. We are still in enemy territory and we have to be careful with communication. We wouldn’t want to give away our location and bring the drug lords down on us.”
“Oh, Ok. I’m sorry.” I whisper. Tears fill my eyes and begin to spill down my face as reality sets in. Shame cascades over me for being so careless. Why did I let this happen to me? Unable to hold back the flood any longer, tears roll down my cheeks. I have held my emotions in for as long as I can. Like a dam breaking, I begin to sob.
Hawk scoots closer and gently slips his arms around me. He lifts me to his chest and begins to stroke my hair and whisper soothing words in my ear. He is so gentle there is no way I can get control of myself now. Loud sobs escape my lips as I cling to him like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. It takes quite a long time for me to regain my composure. Once I have stopped sobbing, he raises my head and places his large calloused hands on both sides of my face wiping my tears with his thumbs.
“Don’t cry, love. I won’t let anything bad happen to you again. I promise, I’ll keep you safe.” His deep baritone voice comforts me as much as his gentle caresses on my face.
“Thank you, I sorry for having a moment. I so ashamed I let this happen to me. And I’m just so relieved to be away from those men.” I heave a shuddering breath as I am still recovering from my episode.
