Broken Arrow: A Military Erotic Romance by Kristin Fletcher Page A

stood laughing at the scene before them. The laughter was soon cut off, however, by the hollow chuffing of the twin fifties mounted on the backup hummer.
     
    Jake could hear someone giving commands. He could hear the medic scream, “We’ve got a live one,” but his body still wouldn’t move. There was a blur of places and faces that seemed to go on forever, and then he was stateside with no real memory of anything that happened after the fifty calibers opened up.
     
    Jake’s first real stateside memory was a soft, beautiful voice calling to him through the fog, “Soldier, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”
     
    “I’m not a soldier, ma’am. I’m a Marine,” he heard himself saying in reply.
     
    “Yes, you are,” she replied sweetly. “Can you tell me your name?”
     
    “Staff Sargent Jacob Reynolds, ma’am.” he replied instantly. Then coming to almost full consciousness he asked, “What’s your name? ...And where in the hell am I?”
     
    “I’m Sophie Bryant,” the enticing voice answered. He could see that the beauty of her face matched her voice. “And you are in the Naval Hospital at Camp Pendleton. Do you know how you got here?”
     
    “Am I the only one?” he asked.
     
    “There are many other patients here,” she answered.
     
    “No,” he said. “Did anyone else in the squad survive?”
     
    Sophie didn’t answer. Instead she continued to hold his hand in hers. She brought her other hand over and lightly stroked the back of his hand. He could see tears welling up in her dark brown eyes. ...He was the only one.
     
    “How long?” he asked.
     
    “You have been here for just under four weeks in a psychotic coma,” she explained.
     
    Jake bristled. “I’m not psychotic,” he stated forcefully. “I’ve taken enough tests over the years to know that I’m not like my mother.”
     
    “I know about your mother’s schizophrenia,” Sophie said gently. “And I’ve read enough of your files to know that you have exhibited none of her symptoms. Psychotic coma merely means that it wasn’t the actual force of the explosion that put you into a fugue state.”
     
    “You’re a shrink?” he asked in surprise. “You’re too pretty to be one of the squirrels.” He smiled at her and continued, “I thought you were a nurse.”
     
    “And yet, I gather nuts for a living.” Sophie laughed softly as she said that. Her red lips were parted in a broad smile, revealing her perfect teeth. “I assume that was one of your mother’s descriptives?” she asked.
     
    “Yes, it was,” Jake answered. “I’m sorry. But with my mother’s problems, I’ve spent my life dealing with one type of shrink or another. I can’t say that I have found the ‘nut gatherers’ to be all that helpful.”
     
    “Unfortunately,” Sophie explained, “there isn’t much that psychiatry can do for severe schizophrenia. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, on the other hand, responds very well to treatment. I am a civilian psychiatrist who specializes in treating PTSD.”
     
    “Is that what you think I have?” Jake responded defensively.
     
    “We couldn’t tell while you were comatose,” she replied, “but it would be a miracle if you didn’t.” She paused, but continued to stroke his hand. “I can help you work through it, though.  Let’s wait and see what develops.”
     
    ***
     
    Doctor Sophie Bryant wasn’t sure what was different about Staff Sargent Jacob Reynolds, but she found that she was attracted to his case–and him–in a very special way. Maybe it was because she was on duty when he was first admitted. In some ways he was unique in that he was whole and healthy–at least externally.
     
    Except for some minor scarring from various old injuries, Jacob’s body was perfect. And unlike many other Marines or sailors, there was only one tattoo. On his right forearm was the eagle and anchor of the Marine Corp with “USMC” above it and “Semper Fi” beneath it in military-