Silbie Luna just wanted to pass her classes and become the first undergrad co-captain for her derby team. She never thought shooting a promo for the athletic department would lead to a coveted role in a highly anticipated movie series. But not only...
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Owen thrashed around, the sound of gunfire pinging like a Texas hailstorm on a tin roof. He inhaled a gulp of fetid air and screamed into a cloud of thick smoke. "Get the kid!"
He bolted upright gasping for breath, then grabbed the hem of his sweat-drenched T-shirt and mopped his face. It took him a few seconds to realize he was in his hospital room. Same damn nightmare every time. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get past that point. How long would it be before he could remember what happened when he got captured?
Even with his teammates telling him the story, he still had no recollection. It was as if that one moment in time froze in his memory. And, why it mattered, he didn't know. It was over. In the past. But still it haunted him, and he feared it would always unless he pieced it all together.
The bouts of depression and anger racked him physically and emotionally, but seeing a shrink wasn't something he was interested in no matter what the doctors said. He'd pull himself out of this funk as soon as the hospital released him. And, according to Dante, that would be any day.
Owen balanced his laptop on his thighs. He didn't know why he continued to torture himself by checking the Hollywood gossip sites, but he couldn't stop. It was his only connection to Silbie.
She'd be back in the states soon, and although Dante had done as Owen asked and kept the news of his release from her, it was only a matter of time until she found out. Especially, once he attended the medal ceremony. The Army would milk his rescue for all it was worth even though they weren't responsible.
He didn't intend to see her. No need. With her new-found fame, he'd only be a problem. Between his therapy, insomnia, and emotional issues, she was better off without him.
Hell, as soon as he blew this joint, and fulfilled his obligation of accepting the Army's commendation, he planned to lay low. He didn't want to associate with people. They all wanted something from him. His family and doctors wanted him to see a counselor. His teammates wanted him to party. The Army wanted him to be a posterboy.
He wanted to be left alone.
He clicked on favorites and pulled up the first gossip site. Silbie was in Switzerland, but according to the new post, filming finished in another week. Then, she'd return to California where they'd film the last scenes at Paramount Studios.
The news release went on to say once shooting completed, she and her co-star—Owen stopped short. The guy was more than that. He was her lover. All the photos of them playing in the snow, dancing in a bar, shopping together, sickened him.
He slammed the laptop closed. Fury exploded in his chest. Hands trembling, he shoved the computer aside, then grabbed the closest thing, a plastic water pitcher, and hurled it across the room grazing the shoulder of the nurse who entered.
"Whoa! Sergeant Filgard. You all right?" She threw up her hands and stepped back.
He hated she'd witnessed his juvenile tantrum, but lately, they were commonplace. "Yeah. Sorry."
