lazy. Ethan drifted off to sleep with Darcy in his arms and his mind a blank slate.
It was a gift. A gift of peace that she gave him.
In her arms, he forgot about the hellish places he'd been. Forgot about the reality of the silent, secret wars he fought, about the men he'd killed before they could kill him.
With her, he didn't have to be a warrior.
With her, he only needed to be a man.
He'd known her less than a week. And she'd changed his life completely.
Changed him to the point where he'd never be the same again.
To the point where he knew he didn't ever want to be.
Chapter 9
JOLO ISLAND, PHILIPPINES
PRESENT
"It's going to be dark soon," Darcy said softly even though the entire camp was asleep— including the woman who was lying with her head on Darcy's lap.
She didn't care. She just needed to talk. Needed to hear the sound of her own voice. Something real in a surreal nightmare.
"It's something, isn't it? How nightfall just sort of drops like a log in the jungle? It's daylight. Then it isn't.
"I'm not much of a fan of the dark," she confessed, looking forward to the transition with all the enthusiasm of going under the knife without anesthetic.
She looked down. The woman had surrendered to a combination of exhaustion and fever. Or possibly she'd just shut down mentally as well as physically. Sleep was one way to escape the mental anguish of her ordeal.
Despite the oppressive heat, icy chills ran down Darcy's spine when she remembered the horrible, otherworldly sounds the woman had made before finally quieting.
"Wish I knew who you were," Darcy said, resting a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder.
"Amy."
It took a moment for Darcy to react. And then her heart picked up a beat. "Did ... did you say something?
The silence that followed was so long and so absolute that Darcy decided she must have been hearing things. So long that when, at last, she heard another almost indiscernible whisper, it startled her.
"Amy."
A surge of adrenaline shot through Darcy's system.
"Amy?" she whispered back so the guard wouldn't hear. "Is that your name?"
Without lifting her head, she nodded.
Darcy's surprise was so huge it made her lightheaded. "Oh, Amy. I'm so glad to meet you. I'm Darcy. And I have a friend back in the states named Amy," she said, working to soothe, relieved beyond belief that Amy had finally initiated conversation. "Are you from the states?"
"New York."
"You're from New York?" Darcy asked, more to keep her talking than for confirmation.
"Buffalo. And I'm ... I'm not crazy. Sometimes ... sometimes I just want them to think I am. They ... they leave me alone that way."
Darcy glanced up at their guard again. He stood a couple of yards away, his back to them, deep in conversation with another one of the terrorists. Another teenager. She looked across the camp. No one was paying the least bit of attention to them.
By the time she zeroed back in on Amy, a lightbulb had burst on in her head.
"Amy ... would you be Amy Walker?"
Another slow, hesitant nod.
My God. Everyone at the embassy had assumed Amy Walker was dead. It had been months—maybe six months—since the office had received an inquiry about the American teacher who had disappeared. Darcy hadn't worked the case herself, so she didn't know who'd made the contact, but if she remembered right, they'd expressed concern over not hearing from Amy. The last anyone had known, she was in Manila.
"How do you know that?" Amy whispered.
Darcy lowered her head closer to Amy's. "I work for the vice consul's office in the U.S. Embassy in Manila. I remember seeing a missing-American report on you. My God, Amy, you've been missing for months."
"Close as I can determine, five months, one week, and two days."
"I'm so sorry." It seemed like such an inane, useless thing to say.
"Yeah. I'm
It was a gift. A gift of peace that she gave him.
In her arms, he forgot about the hellish places he'd been. Forgot about the reality of the silent, secret wars he fought, about the men he'd killed before they could kill him.
With her, he didn't have to be a warrior.
With her, he only needed to be a man.
He'd known her less than a week. And she'd changed his life completely.
Changed him to the point where he'd never be the same again.
To the point where he knew he didn't ever want to be.
Chapter 9
JOLO ISLAND, PHILIPPINES
PRESENT
"It's going to be dark soon," Darcy said softly even though the entire camp was asleep— including the woman who was lying with her head on Darcy's lap.
She didn't care. She just needed to talk. Needed to hear the sound of her own voice. Something real in a surreal nightmare.
"It's something, isn't it? How nightfall just sort of drops like a log in the jungle? It's daylight. Then it isn't.
"I'm not much of a fan of the dark," she confessed, looking forward to the transition with all the enthusiasm of going under the knife without anesthetic.
She looked down. The woman had surrendered to a combination of exhaustion and fever. Or possibly she'd just shut down mentally as well as physically. Sleep was one way to escape the mental anguish of her ordeal.
Despite the oppressive heat, icy chills ran down Darcy's spine when she remembered the horrible, otherworldly sounds the woman had made before finally quieting.
"Wish I knew who you were," Darcy said, resting a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder.
"Amy."
It took a moment for Darcy to react. And then her heart picked up a beat. "Did ... did you say something?
The silence that followed was so long and so absolute that Darcy decided she must have been hearing things. So long that when, at last, she heard another almost indiscernible whisper, it startled her.
"Amy."
A surge of adrenaline shot through Darcy's system.
"Amy?" she whispered back so the guard wouldn't hear. "Is that your name?"
Without lifting her head, she nodded.
Darcy's surprise was so huge it made her lightheaded. "Oh, Amy. I'm so glad to meet you. I'm Darcy. And I have a friend back in the states named Amy," she said, working to soothe, relieved beyond belief that Amy had finally initiated conversation. "Are you from the states?"
"New York."
"You're from New York?" Darcy asked, more to keep her talking than for confirmation.
"Buffalo. And I'm ... I'm not crazy. Sometimes ... sometimes I just want them to think I am. They ... they leave me alone that way."
Darcy glanced up at their guard again. He stood a couple of yards away, his back to them, deep in conversation with another one of the terrorists. Another teenager. She looked across the camp. No one was paying the least bit of attention to them.
By the time she zeroed back in on Amy, a lightbulb had burst on in her head.
"Amy ... would you be Amy Walker?"
Another slow, hesitant nod.
My God. Everyone at the embassy had assumed Amy Walker was dead. It had been months—maybe six months—since the office had received an inquiry about the American teacher who had disappeared. Darcy hadn't worked the case herself, so she didn't know who'd made the contact, but if she remembered right, they'd expressed concern over not hearing from Amy. The last anyone had known, she was in Manila.
"How do you know that?" Amy whispered.
Darcy lowered her head closer to Amy's. "I work for the vice consul's office in the U.S. Embassy in Manila. I remember seeing a missing-American report on you. My God, Amy, you've been missing for months."
"Close as I can determine, five months, one week, and two days."
"I'm so sorry." It seemed like such an inane, useless thing to say.
"Yeah. I'm
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