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“Briggs isn’t missing,” Markus noted. “He’s being kept.” His eyes shifted to Sammara. “I’ve already told you by who. And I’ve already told you why.”
I was looking at Markus now, but Sammara turned my face back in her direction and locked eyes with me. Goddamit, she was strikingly beautiful. Painfully beautiful! It was something you truly didn’t realize until you hadn’t looked at her in a few weeks, or months, or—
“Is he okay?”
“I— I—”
I thought about lying to her. As usual it was a terrible idea.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Her whole expression changed as the color drained out of her face. I felt awful. Like the worst person in the whole world.
“Sammara, I— I couldn’t help it. Our column got divided. Then this happened,” I motioned to my leg, “and I was carried out by a man who barely made it himself.”
Her lip quivered. “But…”
“Last time I saw him he was okay,” I added quickly. “He was rushing off along with a small detachment, firing so much ordinance I lost sight of him in the smoke and flame. But he was alive, Sammara. Totally unharmed.”
She wiped at her eyes. As she did, Markus and I exchanged looks.
“Ryan Dunham’s tougher than hell,” the mercenary captain added, unexpectedly coming to my rescue. “If anyone can make it out there, it’s him. I certainly wouldn’t want him chasing me. Shit, I’ve had him chasing me and—”
Suddenly the entrance flapped open and Dakota stepped through. He looked enormous, even in the spacious tent.
“Markus!” he shouted, before nearly stepping right on him. “We need you back in the war room. Gather your people together and—”
His eyes flew all the way open as he saw me.
“KYLE!”
Dakota rushed over, arms extended, and immediately I shrank back. I had a brief, unwanted vision of unbearable agony… and then thankfully, Sammara threw herself in front of him.
“Wait! Wait! He’s hurt! He’s hurt!”
Like a charging bear, Dakota managed to stop his forward momentum just in time. He leaned down and hugged me awkwardly, crushing my upper body against his while somehow being careful around my leg.
“They told me you’d taken a mortar shell! Or most of one, anyway.”
He was smiling his best Iowa grin. The kind reserved only for special occasions.
“Yeah, well those assholes are exaggerating. It was half a shell at most, or maybe—”
He hugged me again, squeezing the rest of the sentence from my lungs. “Thank God you’re okay!”
My heart swelled to bursting. It felt immeasurably good, seeing him again. Seeing him here. And yet he’d brought Sammara! He’d done the one thing the four of us had promised never to do again; put her in danger.
“Why’d you bring her here?” I asked, leaning in so that only he could hear. “How could you—”
“Long story.”
I tilted my nose at Markus Ladrone. “Then why’d you bring him here?”
Dakota stood up straight again. He pointed at the ex-mercenary captain.
“He knows where Jason is,” said Dakota. “He’s also brought in nine new mercs, a rough map of the compound, and scored us a ride for tomorrow.”
I raised an eyebrow at that last one. “Ride?”
