His Purple Heart

Bonus Chapter II

Bonus chapter II because y'all deserve it.
And in case you made it this far without noticing, I love smut, okayyy. K.
I think this is fair warning for what lies ahead. Enjoy 😉

- Lady Altagracia ❤️

The girl was in the backseat of the Humvee, her blood all over Brian's hand and clothes. Bright red and foreboding. She coughed and more blood splattered on the small glass window, some drops landing on Brian's furrowed eyebrows. A shadow flickered in his blue eyes and I knew that he was worried.

Sweat trickled down my face inside the hot vehicle. Desert land surrounded us and the sun blazed down on the barren trees and dried out grass along the road. I pressed on the gas because the girl was bleeding out and the closest hospital was still more than ten minutes out.

I drove and drove, but seemed to be getting nowhere. Clouds of dust surrounded the Humvee, making it almost impossible to see through the thick bullet proof windows. The sound of a crying baby filled the interior of the vehicle and my blood ran cold. The girl staring back at me through the rearview mirror was now a baby. My baby.

I would recognize those eyes anywhere. Green with specks of brown throughout. She was covered in blood, her chubby cheeks smeared red. She couldn't be here. Not here. I knew what was coming. The roadside bomb. The explosion. Fire, wild and out of control. My skin, my scalp, fucking barbecued meat. The scent of smoke that seemed to linger forever.

Her cries got louder, almost shrill-like as she gasped for air. Why was she here? I couldn't think with her here.

We were going to die.

All of us.

And I couldn't lose her.

Wet. My face was wet. The baby was still bawling her guts out. Her voice got closer and louder, drowning everything else out. I forgot about the bomb. The impending fire. The deaths.

My eyes popped open, soft light spilling from the bedside lamp temporarily blinding me. Ziggy jumped on my lap and was about to lick my face again, but I pushed him away when I saw movement by the window.

Debra smiled at me as she soothed our crying daughter in her arms. Her brown skin radiated from the glow of the lamp and the ray of moonlight cascading into the room where she'd pulled the curtain aside. Her curly hair was piled high above her head, soft tendrils falling forward to frame her gorgeous face.

"Bad one, huh?" she said, referring to my nightmare.

I grabbed my crutches and got out of bed. My prosthetic leg was by the door next to the bathroom. Shirtless with only a boxer on, I hopped across the room on one leg, crutches tucked firmly under my arms. I sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed and shoved my residual leg into the socket of the prosthesis. I needed to go on a walk to clear my head.

Just as I was about to leave, Debbie wailed down the place with an ear piercing cry. I turned and walked back toward mother and daughter using just one crutch under my arm.

"Give her to me," I demanded. Debra hesitated for just a second, before putting Debbie in my outstretched arms. Her crying died down almost immediately and she snuggled up to my chest, seeking my warmth.

At seven months old, Debbie had me tied around her little finger. She was pretty like her mom. Warm caramel skin, large green/hazel eyes, and two tiny white teeth in her lower jaw when she smiled at me.

Shaken up by the nightmare, I held her tighter. She was alive and healthy. She was here and I swore to protect her with everything I had. There were no physical bombs for me to worry about, but I had enemies and they made having a family rather difficult. I was constantly on alert because danger had a nasty way of looming on the horizon, way too close to home for my comfort.