Half an hour later, Hawk watched as Langley gave a wave then entered the apartment building. It ate at him that it was Lang who was keeping her safe instead of him. By pushing Zoe away, he’d sent her right into the bastard’s path. Zoe hadn’t walked into an attempted robbery, as the police believed. It had to be the same guy. What the hell did Cutter have in his apartment the fucker would be searching for? And why had he waited until now?
Because Cutter had regained consciousness.
Hawk pulled out of his parking space and wove in and out of the traffic on his way to the Naval Medical Center in Balboa.
Though Brett didn’t remember the last couple of weeks in Iraq, there was a slim possibility that he would eventually. And whatever he had in his possession, they’d have to retrieve before he returned home. It had to be something he’d brought back from Iraq. But he’d been comatose when flown home and his gear brought back with the rest of the men. Who had packed his stuff? Who had unpacked it?
At the hospital, the nurse’s station stood deserted as Hawk came out of the elevator on Brett’s floor. He strode down the hall. He heard feminine laughter as he approached Brett’s room and paused outside the door. He tapped on the wood and pulled the door open. Angela, one of the nurses stood by the bed with an electronic blood pressure cuff. She and Brett both looked up as Hawk stepped into the room.
“Hawk--”Brett began.
“Lieutenant--visiting hours were over long ago,” Angela said, a frown marring her smooth brow.
“Brett’s sister had an accident this evening. I came to tell him,” he said, his tone short.
Brett stiffened and he swung his legs over the bed.
Angela pressed a hand against his shoulder.
Brett shot her an impatient glance. “What’s happened? Is she okay?” Brett asked.
“She’s on crutches, hopefully just for a while.” What if it wasn’t just a temporary injury? What if the damage was worse than Bowie had understood it to be? How would he find out how she was if she wouldn’t talk to him? How could he have been so stupid?
Brett’s jaw tensed. “It’s her leg?”
“Yeah.” Hawk’s gaze swung to Angela. “Could you give us a minute?”
Her gaze moved from Brett to Hawk and back again. “You’re still weak from weeks of inactivity, Ensign Weaver. You’re doing great in P.T. but you need to take things easy.”
“Sure, I hadn’t planned on jumping up and doing any calisthenics while you’re gone,” he said, his tone taut.
Angela frowned and her lips tightened. She gave a nod as she passed Hawk.
Hawk dragged a chair over to the bed and sat down. “I know you’re having trouble remembering some things before the mission, but you need to try and remember the last two weeks we were there, Brett.”
Brett’s brows slammed together over eyes just a fraction less dark than his sister’s. “What does that have to do with Zoe being hurt?”
“She was attacked when she went to your apartment. Someone was inside searching the place and she walked in on them.”
“What do you mean attacked?”
Hawk fought his rising impatience. “I mean the fucker threw her over the back of a chair and she smashed her leg on a table.”
“Jesus!” Brett shook his head then rubbed his temples as though in pain. “God damn mother--”His head came back up. “You said searching, not robbing.”
“HQ has been waiting until you were stronger to question you about it. I’m not waiting any longer. Something happened in Iraq, Brett. You weren’t taken down by a tango. One of the team bashed your head in and left you to be buried inside the building.”
The shock of it seemed to hit Brett broadside and his features went slack. Hawk quashed the quick feelings of sympathy and continued. “I know about Strong man’s assault charges and I know about Flash’s gambling debts and I believe it’s one of them. I need to know what you do about both of them. In short, I need you to get your fucking memory back, and tell me what went down that almost got you killed. Because that something just got Zoe attacked.”
Brett drew a deep breath. “My memory is a black hole just before the mission, Hawk.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Doing the practice runs to get our timing down.”
“What do you remember about Derrick’s assault charges?”
“He beat up his girl friend and when the cops showed up they brought charges against him. When she wouldn’t testify they dropped the charges. They cut him some slack because he’s in the teams and he was getting ready to ship out.”
Hawk ran his hand over his hair roughing it up as he beat back the urge to bite his fucking head off. “And you didn’t say anything to me.”
Brett grimaced. “I had hoped I’d be able to talk to him. I thought I’d convinced him to see someone when we got home.”
“But?”
“I can’t talk to you about this, Hawk. When someone takes you into their confidence--”
“He may have beat your head in and left you for dead.”
“No.” Brett shook his head. “Derrick would never do that.”
“You knew something that could end his career as a SEAL. What about Flash?”
“I don’t know. He and I aren’t buddies, we’re team mates.”
“Who is he close to in the team?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Bowie. Bowie’s buds with everybody.”
“Flash has a gambling problem. Did you know anything about that?”
“Yeah. I knew.”
Hawk focused on him and shook his head. What else had his men kept from him?
He shook off the sense of betrayal and continued. “All right. What I want you to do is spend some time thinking about what could have triggered the attack. If you think of anything, call me.”
“Yeah. You’ll look after Zoe.”
Hawk flinched. How was he supposed to do that now? “I’ll look after her. You can count on it.” He’d find a way.