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“I know,” my brother shot back.
Thankfully, he didn’t pursue my admission.
Instead, he pulled out the map and started to study it. “You should be able to land your bird in a small clearing that’s fairly close to Savannah’s location,” he said in a no-nonsense voice. “From there, we’ll do a short boat paddle to get to a good location to penetrate the jungle. Marshall will have a local guide waiting to keep an eye on the helicopter.”
I already knew that “short boat paddle” was actually a fairly long stretch of river.
I’d already memorized the entire route and our plans by heart, but I didn’t mind going over the details. It kept me from thinking about anything else. “I don’t think Marshall missed a single detail,” I told Wyatt.
We’d planned the operation time so the entire mission would happen under the cover of darkness, which wasn’t a problem for me. I’d spent most of my military career flying night and twilight missions.
“Does Marshall ever miss any details?” Wyatt asked drily. “I’m pretty sure the guy never sleeps.”
I chuckled. “Everyone involved in Last Hope is really anal. We have to be. But Marshall is one of those guys who excels at thinking about every single thing that could go wrong and having a plan in place for every possibility.”
“Which is why he’s so respected and the guys coming out of special ops are willing to put their asses on the line in the civilian world,” my brother pointed out.
“True,” I agreed. “There wouldn’t be a Last Hope without Marshall. Sometimes I do wonder why he chose to dedicate his civilian life to this volunteer organization, though.”
“I don’t think he was ready to retire,” Wyatt mused. “He needed a purpose. I get that, but the man could definitely use some time off occasionally.” He started to put the map away as he added, “I think we’re ready. We need to try to get some sleep before we land. We’ve got a few hours.”
He was right. We needed to be as rested as possible.
I stood to make my way back to my bed.
“Chase?” my brother said roughly.
“Yeah?”
“Make sure you actually sleep,” Wyatt demanded. “There’s nothing we can do until we get to Panama.”
I nodded.
I’d sleep because I had to, but I highly doubted I’d be dreaming about anything or anyone else but Savannah.
Savannah
“Vanna? Talk to me, sweetheart! Come on!”
I heard the voice urgently calling to me in a hoarse whisper against my ear, but Icouldn’tquite wake up. Why was I even being asked to do that?
“Savannah! Fuck! Talk to me, dammit!”
The voice that had sounded so far away got a little bit closer.
As some of my senses started to awaken, I noticed something I hadn’t felt for what seemed like forever: a slight breeze on my face.
I suddenly became aware that someone had a gentle hand on me, apparently trying to shake me awake.
Definitely not one of my captors since this touch is painless.
“I gave her some Narcan before we got in the boat because she was so heavily drugged that she was barely breathing,” a different voice remarked in a harsher whisper. “But I doubt she was only getting opiates. It won’t reverse some of the other drugs.”
Through my brain fog, I began to wonder if someone was trying to…help me.
At least two people, actually.
Both were male, but were these two guys friend or foe?
