Her Loyal Seal Read online

  “These aren’t ideal circumstances.”

  “I didn’t hear you bitching this much when you had to sew up Finn,” Clint joked wanly.

  “Finn couldn’t give a shit about scars.” Unfortunately Clint knew the drill. He held Lydia’s forearm, and waited for Darius to numb the area. Lydia didn’t flinch. They waited, then Darius did a thorough cleaning of the wound before beginning to sew. He was almost done when she began to wake up.

  “Please, no more,” she moaned in Spanish. Clint spoke to her in a soft voice, and he felt like shit as he continued to hold her down.

  “How much longer, Dare?”

  “Almost done.”

  “Shhhh, Lydia, it’s me Clint. I promise you’re safe. Darius is putting stitches into your wrist so you don’t get an infection. Please Lydia, listen to my voice. Can you hear me? You’re safe.” Clint repeated those words over and over.

  Finally she heard him. “Clint?” She stopped struggling.

  “Yes Baby, it’s me.”

  “Done.”

  Clint let go of Lydia. “There you go. Try to keep your wrist immobile for a while, okay? We don’t want you undoing all of Darius’ hard work.”

  Lydia tried to sit up and Clint helped her. She looked at her swollen and stitched up flesh and winced.

  “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

  “I anesthetized the area. Even with the shot I’m going to give you, when the numbness wears off, it’s going to hurt.” Darius carefully measured the amount of liquid that went into the syringe and administered it.

  “Will this knock her out?”

  “If I give her more it will,” Darius admitted.

  “I don’t want anymore. I refuse to weigh down Clint as he has to carry me. It’s easier when I’m awake. I won’t hold still for any more shots.” The small woman in her baggy black shirt was staring down the two of them. She sounded like a hissing kitten. It would be comical except for the lines of pain on her face.

  “Lydia, we’re making camp now. I can see how much pain you’re in just from your back. Let’s get you something that will help you sleep through the night, okay?”

  “She giving you trouble?” Finn asked as he came over with two large tarps. Lydia looked frightened and pushed closer to Clint. Finn immediately realized his mistake and crouched down in front of her.

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I was just teasing. I love seeing you giving Darius and Clint a little bit of what for. It’s good for them.”

  She pushed away from Clint, and he missed her warmth. She sat up straight and gave Finn a brave smile.

  “It’s okay. I’m just jumpy.”

  “I’m here to help you set up camp. Guys, hit the high ground close to the tree, it’s definitely going to rain.”

  Clint picked up Lydia, mindful of her back. Darius and Finn spread out the ground tarp over the roots of the tree so it was up high and the rain wouldn’t pool around them. Then they affixed the other tarp to the tree and some spikes in the ground so they would be covered. Lydia would be wrapped in the silver survival blanket. As far as Clint was concerned they were living large, but for a woman who had never camped in a jungle and had just been tortured, this had to be hell on Earth.

  “Thank you so much,” she said as she looked at what they had devised.

  Both Finn and Darius gave her odd looks. Obviously their thoughts had been mirroring his own.

  “It’s the best we can do for you tonight, Ms. Hidalgo.”

  “I know, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my family.” Clint looked at her and saw nothing but sincerity. Amazing, fucking amazing.

  “It’s our job, Ma’am,” Finn answered.

  Darius and Finn got some foliage and put it down under the spot where Lydia was going to lay. Clint put her down on her side and covered her with a blanket. Each man was going to stick with one family member so if problems arose they would be able to protect them.

  Drake had first watch, so he gave over his pack for Lydia to use as her pillow. Seconds after they got settled under the tarp it was as if the heavens opened up and started pouring buckets of water. The only saving grace was it was coming down straight instead of sideways.

  Despite the rain it was hot and humid. He hadn’t minded carrying Lydia. Rescuing innocents was exactly the reason he signed up to be a SEAL, but he had been getting really hot. He could have gone another couple of miles, but the other Hidalgos weren’t going to make it. Mason had done the right thing to set up camp.

  Even though Darius said the shot wouldn’t cause Lydia to sleep, she was dozing. He looked her over and saw where the mosquitos had gotten to her arms. Now with the rain acting as a protective barrier they shouldn’t be a problem, but he should have thought of bug repellant. The last thing she needed was more pain. Her eyes opened.

  “I can feel you staring at me. Are you worried I’m going to be a liability?”

  He snorted. “I was kicking my ass for not taking better care of you.”

  “What are you talking about?” She shifted and he heard the palm fronds rustle beneath the tarp.

  He tugged at her hand, and brushed a spot on her upper arm. “You’re getting eaten alive with bug bites.”

  “Clint, you can’t be serious. You’ve carried me for miles. You have been amazing. I sure as hell haven’t noticed anything as trivial as insect bites.”

  He guessed she hadn’t. He saw where blood had seeped through the gauze at her wrists, and now he was seeing where the shirt was stuck in places from the dried blood. It was going to hurt if she moved around while she slept.

  “I’ll get out the repellant before we head out tomorrow. I have an MRE for you to eat right now.” He pulled it out of his back pack.

  “What’s an MRE?”

  “It stands for Meal Ready to Eat. It’s not gourmet, but it beats a protein bar.” He pulled out a chicken teriyaki packet and opened it for her.

  “Thank you.”

  He tried not to wolf his down, but failed like usual. Lydia didn’t seem to have much of an appetite, and only finished half of hers. He looked at her and realized her eyes were glassy.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine. It hurts a little.” Talk about an understatement. She had to be in a hell of a lot of pain. Clint touched her forehead. Good, no fever. But still, she needed more pain meds.

  “Darius,” he yelled.

  “Right here. I’m your bunk mate.” Darius was wearing the standard issue poncho. He squatted down next to Lydia.

  “How you doing, Ms. Hidalgo?”

  “Call me Lydia.” She looked over her shoulder at Darius and gave him a wan attempt at a smile.

  “Okay Lydia, can you tell me how you’re doing? What’s your pain level on a scale of one to ten?”

  “Probably a four.”

  “Now how about you don’t lie to me.”

  “Lying is a sin. I think I’ll keep my mouth shut.” She gave a wobbly smile.

  “She’s stubborn, she would have made a good a good SEAL.” Clint was happy to see her smile even more. “Dare, she doesn’t have a fever, but her eyes are glassy and she only ate half of her dinner.” Clint took the food from her hand.

  “Can’t say I blame her, you gave her the teriyaki. You should have given her the stroganoff. Lydia, you’ve got to eat to keep your strength up. We brought enough to feed us and your family.” Lydia turned to look at both of them, wincing in the process.

  “I’ll try to eat more later.”

  “Let’s get you a shot so you can sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  It took five minutes for the shot to take effect, but when it did Clint finally relaxed. He would bet his bottom dollar her pain level had been closer to ten.

  “Dare, did some of the cuts on her back need to be stitched up as well?”

  “I considered it, but with all the movement, they would just get ripped out and cause more damage. It was better to do butterfly bandages.”

  “Dammit. What is the likel
ihood of infection?”

  “Pretty high. Her mother told me she was sick with a cold when she was taken. We need to keep her wounds dry. We need this damn rain to stop.” Lydia shifted in her sleep and moaned, then she started to cough. Darius gave her a grim look. Clint pushed closer to her front so that they were touching, trying to give her as much warmth as possible. He watched as Darius moved closer to her back without touching her, so that he too could provide some body heat.

  This time Lydia let out more of a relaxed sigh. Clint closed his eyes, maybe he would be able to get some sleep.

  Chapter Two

  By day three Lydia was burning up with fever. Clint was amazed she was conscious as often as she was.

  “Clint?” she whispered. “How is Beth? How are my parents?”

  He looked up ahead and saw Mason was carrying Beth. They all slowed down, but by Drake’s calculations they would still make the rendezvous point on time.

  “They’re fine, Lydia.”

  “I know my father has made some mistakes.” She stopped and took in deep breaths. Then she started to cough. She coughed even more at night. Some of the wounds on her back were getting red and ugly, and as predicted, she was getting an infection in her lungs. Even though Darius was trying to hide it, Clint could tell he was worried.

  “Don’t talk Lydia, everything is going to be all right.”

  “Clint, you have to promise me...” She coughed again.

  “I’ll promise you anything, just stop talking.”

  “Beth. You have to promise you’ll look after Beth. My father might be in trouble when we reach America, but my mother will stand by him no matter what, she always does. Beth will be all alone.” She coughed and her wet hair spilled over his shoulder. “Please take care of Beth.”

  “I will Lydia. I’ll take care of both of you. You have my word.”

  She coughed again. She couldn’t seem to stop, her chest rattled, and then she passed out.

  “Darius,” he yelled.

  “Halt!” Mason called out.

  Clint was half aware of the rest of the family as they just about fell down where they stopped. All of the Hidalgos were on their last legs. Mason knew Lydia was in trouble, and was making the decision to take a break so Darius could attend to her.

  Clint found the best coverage he could under a large tree, and wasn’t surprised when Finn and Drake had tarps out to protect Lydia. Darius had his back pack out with all of his medical supplies.

  Clint sank down at Lydia’s feet and pulled off her wet socks, and dried her off as best he could before sliding his last pair of socks on her feet. He didn’t look up to see what his friend was doing. He didn’t want to see the look in his eyes. Mason came over to see what was going on.

  “Mason, we need to camp here for the night,” Darius said grimly.

  “We can’t.”

  “Then we have to have two hours.”

  “Dare, there’s only four hours of daylight left. We need all of it if we want to make it to the rendezvous in two days.” Mason set his hand on Clint’s shoulder. “You’re damn near played out. Let Drake take her for the rest of the day. It’ll help speed things along.”

  “That’s bullshit. You know it’s the parents slowing us down.”

  “Right now they are but in another hour it’ll be you.”

  Clint looked up in his Lieutenant’s eyes and realized he was right. “Okay.”

  Lydia groaned. Darius had stripped Lydia down to her upper buttocks and had three syringes in his hand. He was injecting her in her hip. “I need everyone’s clean shirts now. We need to keep her warm, and the wounds on her back dry. The rain is dripping down inside the poncho.”

  Seeing the bloody and infected areas on her caramel colored skin made Clint sick. He really thought the antibiotics and antiseptic ointment would have helped her.

  “Why isn’t she getting better with the medicine?”

  “It’s the Goddamn rain,” Darius said bitterly. “It keeps washing away the antiseptic and it’s dripping into her mouth and nose and she’s damn close to pneumonia if she doesn’t already have it.”

  “How can that be? It’s got to be eighty degrees,” Finn asked.

  “She was ripe for infection. She was already sick when they took her, remember?”

  “Okay, so the shots you just gave her will take care of things, right?” Clint insisted. There was no other answer but ‘yes’.

  Darius just looked at him.

  “Don’t you tell me ‘no’. That’s not acceptable.” Clint turned to Drake. “I’ll carry her. You’re the biggest, you pick up whichever family member is slowing our asses down. We are making it to the chopper and Lydia is going to be just fine.”

  “Chief, that’s not your call to make,” Mason growled.

  “Wrong. I’m making it my call. I promised Lydia I would take care of her. I’m not letting her down when she needs me the most.”

  Mason stared at him, water dripping off the edge of his poncho, it seemed like the longest moment of Clint’s life.

  “Okay. But the minute you’re holding us back Drake’s taking her.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Sir.”

  Clint helped Darius bundle Lydia back up. Then they carefully put her up on his back. She didn’t make a sound. He couldn’t decide if he was happy about that or not. He’d never felt such terror in his life.

  The last four hours of the march we’re grueling. They reminded him of his BUD/S training. As he did during his training, he just persevered. One step in front of the other, but this time the goal was so much more important.

  He didn’t hear when Mason called a halt. Drake had to get in front of him to get his attention.

  “Thanks man.”

  “Not a problem. Finn’s already started setting up a place for the two of you.”

  Clint hadn’t noticed them stopping because he had been concentrating on walking and listening to Lydia’s breathing. He thought it was a little bit better and not so congested. He wished Darius had a stethoscope in his backpack.

  He appreciated that the spot was already laid out with leaves and other foliage to make her comfortable. He watched as the tarp was laid out on top of it. Darius was kneeling beside it, his face blank.

  Drake helped Clint lower Lydia into a seating position. He and Darius pulled off the layers of shirts, then laid her on her stomach. The wounds looked even more inflamed.

  “Dare, what’s going wrong. I thought they would improve. You put on the ointment, they stayed dry.”

  “These conditions are the worst possible for her wounds. She needs a hospital.”

  “But her breathing has improved. She isn’t coughing, and her chest isn’t rattling.” Darius turned her over on her side, and put his ear up to her sternum. Clint winced, he hated to see Lydia’s modesty impinged on like that, even though he knew his friend was being clinical. Clint looked up, all of the other men had turned away.

  “Let’s get her dressed again,” Darius said.

  “So she’s better, right?”

  Darius didn’t look at him, and then he knew. His shoulders sagged.

  “Just tell me.”

  “The congestion has gotten so bad, that it’s not moving. We’ve got to push more fluids into her.”

  “I try to get her to drink, but she’s unconscious, and when I wake her up, it just dribbles out of her mouth.”

  “You’ve got to try harder, Clint. It’s a matter of life and death. She’s at a high risk of dehydration. But be careful she doesn’t choke.” Darius was shaking her and putting the canteen up to her lips. “The good news is that you carrying her has been a good thing. Keeping her upright and jostling her around has helped to keep things moving in her chest. Tonight she needs to rest upright.” That didn’t sound very comfortable.

  “If moving her around is such a good thing, why is she doing so poorly?”

  “It’s the infection in her back, it has moved quickly to her lungs, and the rain and humidity has don
e a number on her. I’m going to administer the highest dose of antibiotics I can.”

  “You mean you haven’t before?”

  Darius just looked at him, and Clint realized he had. Fuck. They just had to get to the rendezvous point as fast as possible. She needed a hospital. Failure was not an option.

  That night Lydia had her first nightmare.

  “Get away from my sister,” she rasped in Spanish. “Take me.” She started to cry. Dry wrenching sobs. She hit him and groaned as her fists connected to his chest, injuring her wrists.

  “Wake her up. Get her to drink some water.” Clint glowered over her head at Darius.

  “Lydia, you’re safe.” She shook her head wildly.

  “I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just don’t hurt my sister. I can make you feel so good.” She talked softly he could barely make out her words, her voice was ruined from her illness.

  Her hands changed to claws, belying her words. Clint ducked, not wanting to manhandle her.

  “Baby, can you hear me. It’s me Clint. You have to wake up.”

  “Watch me strip for you.” She tried for his face again with her nails, and then Darius reached from behind and as gently as he could grasped her forearms.

  “No….” she wailed. She coughed and coughed and coughed. Until it turned into one gasping wheeze. She struggled so hard often times pushing her injured back against Darius’ chest and both men did what they could to position her so it wouldn’t happen. All the time, Clint spoke to her in Spanish, urgently trying to get her to come back to the present.

  “Dare, please give her something for the pain. Give her something to go to sleep.”

  “You’ll have to hold her down, I need her to be still.”

  Clint’s breath hitched. He forced his fists to unclench so he could cup her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers. “Lydia, baby, it’s me Clint. You’re safe. The men who hurt you are dead. You’re having a nightmare. You’re sick and you need to wake up.” Over and over he whispered in Spanish. Finally he thought to start speaking in English, and that was what seemed to do the trick.