Wolf Haven - Lindsay McKenna

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looked at the price tags on the sale jeans. She simply didn’t have the money. Feeling shame, Sky worried her lower lip. Gray had already sprung for food, and she wasn’t about to ask him for any more money. Nor did she expect him to pay for her needs. She’d just have to wait.

      “Problem?”

      Sky sucked in a quick breath, hearing Gray’s low voice nearby. She snapped her head up, and he was standing across from where the women’s jeans were hung on the rack. “You scared the hell out of me!” she whispered, giving him a distraught look. Blinking, Sky placed her hand against her throat, trying to control her reaction.

      “Bad habit,” he said apologetically. Gray looked toward the counter. “I saw you standing over here, and you looked upset.” He met her wide, fearful gaze. “I’ll make you a loan so you can buy what you need, Sky.” He held up his hand when she started to protest. “Look, we all need help every once in a while.” He dug into his wallet. “I’ll put it on the credit card. It won’t be due for thirty days. Iris pays us every two weeks, so you can easily pay me back.” Gray searched her tense features. “Okay?” He said it softly. With understanding.

      He watched as she battled back tears. Gray cursed inwardly. He was a sucker for any kid or woman who cried. Sky had turned away, taking a sharp swipe at her eyes. Moving around the rack, Gray gently laid his hands on her tense shoulders, not wanting to scare her again.

      “Sky, it’s okay. What are friends for? If we can’t help one another out in bad times, what does that make us?” He gently turned her around, her eyes downcast, her hands knotted against her heart, knuckles white.

      “I—I’ve just never been this poor,” she uttered, unable to look at Gray. His hands were so warm and large on her shoulders. They felt good. Steadying. When he laid his hands on her, a soothing calm overtook Sky. “I—I just don’t know how to thank you, Gray.”

      “You can pay me back by buying everything you need, Sky. I make a very good salary, and I’m not hurting for money, so use it. Okay?”

      Sky wished she wasn’t so emotional. It just wasn’t like her. All her calm, cool collectedness was gone now, it seemed. In its place were razor-sharp emotions, many of them tearing her inwardly apart. She felt Gray’s care, his strength and something else. Something she couldn’t define even though she wanted to. His mouth was so strong, and his lips were pulled into a faint smile. The tenderness he exhibited surprised her. She just wasn’t used to someone caring for her like this.

      “Okay,” she said, her voice strained. “I’ll pay back every penny. I promise.”

      “I have no doubt, Sky. So, go ahead and buy what you need.” Damn, he wanted to touch Sky everywhere. He wanted to smell her, taste her, touch her, love her. Gray knew he could give Sky the security he knew had been destroyed within her by the torture. And God help him, his protectiveness was at an all-time high with her. He’d confront anyone who got near her with any intent to harm her. That was the SEAL in him, a part of him that would always exist regardless of whether he was out in the civilian world or not. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.

      * * *

      EXHAUSTION WAS LAPPING at Sky as she got to see her new home. Gray unlocked the employees’ house, a two-story redbrick building with a dark green painted metal roof. Her bedroom was amazing. The East bedroom, as Iris called it, reminded Sky of the 1930s era. A rainbow quilt lay over the queen-size bed. There were brass head-and footboards, as well. The furniture was all handmade out of walnut. An air of femininity permeated the room. The cream-colored walls reflected ample light, and Sky loved it. The room was so large it contained even enough space for a desk, chair and stained-glass lamp.

      Gray helped carry all her purchases from the Horse Emporium into her bedroom. And then he placed all her groceries into the fridge or the large pantry. As Sky quietly shut the door, she felt weary. It had been a long, stressful day. She didn’t even have the energy to put all her jeans and other clothing items away. All she wanted to do was lie down on that heavenly bed. And she did, promptly falling asleep.

      * * *

      WHEN GRAY QUIETLY opened Sky’s bedroom door at 6:00 p.m., he saw that she was still sleeping. His heart lurched in his chest as he saw how fragile she appeared on the large bed, her hand near her cheek as she slept on her side. It hurt to see she had drawn her body up into a fetal position of protection.

      Mouth thinning, he closed the door and walked down the hall to the kitchen. He would make dinner for them tonight. He’d just returned from talking with Iris and giving her feedback on Sky’s lack of money. Tomorrow Iris was going to advance her two weeks’ pay, and that would help de-stress Sky to a degree.

      Gray knew she liked salads. He liked meat. Deciding to bake some chicken breasts, he noodled through all the veggies and chose the ones he recognized. A chef he was not. But he could make Sky a nice salad to go with the baked chicken. He also knew how to make rice, so that would be in the mix, too.

      Unable to explain the happiness filtering through him as he focused on the food, Gray realized it was because Sky had unexpectedly walked into his life. As he worked, he kept one ear keyed on the hall for a door opening. How long would Sky sleep? No one understood the tentacles of PTSD unless they’d experienced it themselves.

      His mind flew from one terrible atrocity that had been done to her to another. When he’d appeared quietly in front of her at the Horse Emporium, she’d nearly lost her composure. Cobbling together all her actions and reactions, Gray had seen recent pink scars around each of her wrists. Granted, he knew the Taliban often skinned an enemy alive, cutting and pulling an inch of skin off the back or front of their body each day. The victim eventually bled to death or had a massive infection, and sepsis killed them. He’d not seen any scars along Sky’s shoulders. She’d worn a blouse that he could look beneath just enough to see her shoulders were clear of any scarring.

      His brows fell, and his mouth compressed as he ran through torture procedures. As a SEAL, he’d gone through SERE—Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape—and had every kind of torture experience.

      He poured the brown rice into a long Pyrex dish and added water. As he picked up the chicken breasts, his hand halted with the meat midway to the dish.

       No, can’t be! No fucking way!

      Gray turned, staring down the hall, his heart picking up in heavy beat. A SEAL could control his physical body unlike any other person on the face of the earth. When he was on a mission, his heart rate was slow, his blood pressure normal even though danger and threat surrounded him and his team. But now, as he stared down the dimly lit hall that led to the bedrooms, he felt nausea. And terror.

       It can’t be. It just can’t be...

      Hissing a curse, Gray placed the chicken breasts into the rice and then covered it with a piece of foil. Washing his hands with soap and water, Gray slowly dried them off, not wanting to admit that he knew without ever being told what kind of torture Sky had endured.

      She’d been waterboarded. The scars on her wrists verified it. A person was laid on their back on a wooden board the length of their body, their wrists and ankles manacled to hold them down. The board was canted slightly, so a person’s head was below their chest. A strap was then placed across their brow so they couldn’t move their head as the water was poured slowly into their nostrils. The terror of drowning made them panic and jerk at the restraints, causing deep scarring. And Sky’s wrists proved it to Gray. He cursed beneath his breath, wanting to vomit.

      GRAY TRIED TO put a choke chain on his emotions when Sky sleepily appeared down the hall near 7:00 p.m. His anger had simmered nonstop when he put the pieces of her torture together. Waterboarding broke a person psychologically and emotionally. And it didn’t take long to do it.

      As he moved the dinner plates and flatware to the oak table in the dining room, he savagely stuffed all his feelings into his kill box. Until he

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