Her Survivor: A Black Eagle Ops Novel Read Online Free Page B

One by one, he strutted over to them, shook the patient’s hand if he still had one, exchanged a few words of encouragement, or made a joke if the patient seemed up to it. Meanwhile, Dustin got dressed. Boxers and jeans felt odd after months in hospital gowns.
    Two admirals entered the ward and waited. As soon as ZQ saw them, he trooped over and snapped a salute. They led him away from the patients to a corner for a private chat. Even though he was officially a civilian, the admirals seemed interested in hearing what he had to say, nodding and gesturing. Why? ZQ had been retired for a year. Asking questions in return, one admiral handed ZQ a manila envelope.
What the hell is going on here? Is that “Confidential” stamped in red on the side?
    Dustin was officially discharged from the hospital and, after being handed a ball cap with the word “SEAL” and the Trident above the bill, was told to wear it outside to keep the sun’s rays from damaging the new skin growth around his eye. He was wheeled out to the curb where a black SUV, with ZQ behind the wheel, waited. The orderly tried to help Dustin out of the wheelchair, but he waved him away. He stood with the aid of a cane and opened the door himself.
    His crutches, both a running metal prosthesis and one for swimming, plus one tan boot were placed on the backseat by a nurse, who hugged him goodbye and wished him the best.
    The sun shone brightly now that a rainstorm had passed through the area early this morning. ZQ handed him a pair of sunglasses once he strapped himself in. “Let me know if you need to get out and move around or take a whiz. I don’t want your muscles cramping.”
    “I’ll be fine.” The last thing he wanted was to be babied.
Just treat me like a man, a fuckin’ man—a whole man.
    “Yeah, your stubborn ass says so, now. An hour into our ride, you might need to stretch out, walk around the vehicle a time or two. Stopping is no big deal. We’ll hit Micky-D’s. Get a Coke.”
    Dustin gave ZQ a quick glance. “I’m not having a Coke without a freakin’ Big Mac, man, and an order of fries big enough to choke a rhino.” He hadn’t had fast food since right before the team left for Syria.
    “Not good for your health, kid.”
    “Like getting my foot blown off was?” Things grew quiet after he barked that sentiment, as the tires ate up the flat highway. He wanted to ask ZQ about the folder one of the admirals gave him. Wanted to ask in the worst kind of way, but he knew the man well enough that the only answer he’d get would be a cold stare. Serving under this commander, you soon learned his behavior patterns.
    “Were you offered a medical discharge?” ZQ’s glance shifted from the road to him.
    “Yeah, I refused it for now. I want to see how I am after more healing time and another round of PT. See if I can walk without my cane when I use the standard prosthesis. I can run fairly well with the sprinter style. Swimming’s still a little awkward with the amphibious one, but I’ll get the hang of it. Command gave me two months to make up my mind. Of course I’ll have to pass medical exams, too.”
    “We’re about halfway home and there’s a McDonald’s up ahead. Let’s make a stop. It won’t hurt you to move around for a little, give that cane a workout.”
    Inside, customers stared at Dustin’s scarred left side of his face. Murmurs scorched his ears and he tugged the bill down farther over his face. Damn, he felt like a freak and he didn’t like it. The doctors had talked about plastic surgery, but the VA wouldn’t compensate him for it if he took a medical discharge.
    Military medical had fixed his eye and the scars around it, but the skin was still pink with healing. What remained was a long scar from his cheek to his jaw and two smaller ones branching out toward his ear like tentacles. Although he wasn’t sure he wanted to use up his savings to pay for more pain of skin grafting, he didn’t know if he was emotionally