Masculine voices drifted down the hall. Too easily she could detect the difference between Liam’s and Wade Rocha’s. The six months they’d spent apart faded in an instant. Would that same hold true over multiple deployments, year after year?
And when had she started dreaming about the future? The present was so messed up and crazy, she shouldn’t be wasting a brain cell thinking about anything else.
“The job’s easier to take, knowing he’s got such a tight team. And Liam McCabe? He’s the glue.” Sunny’s voice trembled. “The team’s freaking out over his leaving. Me too, for that matter.”
“Leaving?” She sat up straighter, crumpling the napkin in her clenched hand.
“After some mission they’ve been working on finishes up at the end of the week, he says he’s done, out. McCabe insists his body can’t keep up anymore.”
“Is he right?” She certainly hadn’t seen any signs of him flagging—other than once in the Bahamas, watching him strap ice packs onto his knees. But good God, who wouldn’t need ice after what they’d been through during the horrific, endless work in earthquake rubble?
“He may not be as fast as he was, but he still beats the hell out of most men ten years younger. Look at them now. After the workout they got yesterday, Wade’s still aching, even if he won’t admit it.”
“What workout?”
“They do PT—physical training—pretty hard. But yesterday they finished off a day at work by swimming two miles, then hiking five miles back to base.” She tipped back her chair to check down the hall before continuing, “I understand you’re a strong woman, with the search and rescue training. We have that kind of background in common. But these guys have training beyond anything we’ve come close to seeing. If he says you need to run, then run. Don’t think. Just act. For whatever you have going on right now, you need to trust what he says.”
There was no denying the intensity or sincerity in Sunny’s voice. But what she said scared the hell out of Rachel as much as it reassured her. It was one thing to participate in a rescue where she moved forward proactively, making decisions, leading. But giving over power completely? That was hard. Really hard.
Yet hadn’t she turned over control already?
She pushed the empty coffee mug away. “I appreciate the advice.”
“It’s difficult to take a backseat when you’re used to leading. I get that. Totally.” She gripped Rachel’s hand in a quick, firm squeeze. “But I learned something when we went through scary times in Alaska. If I’m following, I’ve got his back. And guys like these are so busy saving others, they don’t take care of themselves. More than another leader, they need someone who’s got their six.”
“Their six?”
“Six o’clock. Like a position.” She stood again and opened a cabinet, reaching to the top shelf and pulling down a canister labeled “Granola.” She glanced over her shoulder, continuing, “Someone who has their back. That someone is you, and Liam’s lucky to have you. Which is why I have something to give you.”
Sunny plunked the canister on the table and pried open the top. She pulled out a leather pouch.
“What’s that?”
“Something even Wade doesn’t know about. And trust me, my junk-food-eating husband wouldn’t go near the granola bin.” She untied the pouch and opened the flap. “Papers. Identification. For you.”
Leaning back, Rachel held up her hands. “Thank you, but no, I can’t possibly take this. I can’t let you become any more involved in this than you already are. Liam was very clear about making sure nothing happens here that puts you and your husband at risk if this goes badly.”
“It’s not mine, for heaven’s sake.” Sunny snorted. “That would only make things worse for all of them. It’s an extra I have lying around from when I lived in Alaska, one with a different name in case I needed to move fast. Nobody knows about this.”
“Liam says he has more than one for himself.”
“I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised. It’s just the nature of the business.”
“So because he has his secrets, you have yours?” So much for her brief hopes of a perfect relationship in this stress-filled career field.
Sunny winced. “I wouldn’t put it that way. It’s certainly not meant as some payback on my part. More along the lines that being married to a man like that, well, you have to be incredibly independent.” She toyed with the feather in her hair. “If you’re not sure of yourself, you can lose yourself, lose your way, in this stressful lifestyle…”
She shook her head.
Rachel waited for her to gather her thoughts, not sure where this revelation was leading. She’d been looking for answers and direction here. But she hadn’t expected anything like this.
“My husband understands that I used to live off the grid and how tough this transition has been for me. He knows I’m unaccustomed to rules and conventional structures of society. I’m happy with him. And even though he doesn’t know about these, I’m not leaving myself an escape hatch. I’ve kept him in the dark to protect him.” She caressed the leather pouch between her fingers. “I’ve been holding on to these in case my older brother ever needs my help.”
“Your brother?”
“He’s a conscientious objector. Or a deserter. Whichever you prefer to call him. He was in the service and went AWOL. When we lived off the grid in Alaska, we kept extra identification for him and his wife in case they needed to move quickly. He disappeared into Canada about a year ago. His wife…” Sunny squeezed her eyes shut tight for three crashes of the waves against the shore before opening them again. “His wife is dead. And for some reason I never could get rid of these papers we kept around for them.”
Her brother was a deserter? Rachel’s grip tightened around the edge of the wood table, her mind filled with the soldiers she’d helped, their eyes ravaged with pain and trauma. They’d more than risked their lives holding the line in battle. They’d sacrificed their very mental well-being rather than turn away from their brothers in arms. Brandon was fighting for his life right now.