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The team made a mad dash into the desert for freedom. Cutter’s every pounding footfall against the hard soil jarred him. He clutched the weapon and, through sheer will, watched as the floodlight he’d once been pinned under grew fainter and fainter in the distance.
He heard the whir of chopper blades nearby. Another undertow of dizziness threatened to pull him under. His strength gave out.
With suddenly limp fingers, he let go of the weapon. It clattered to the dirt.
Hunter scooped it up again, barking instructions. The cacophony scrambled his head; he couldn’t hear a word. But Cutter flung him down inside the cockpit. One-Mile caught a glimpse of the rivets in the domed top before his vision blurred over and blackness closed in.
His last conscious thought was that he hoped he’d regain consciousness, and that he’d be looking into a pair of soft amber eyes if he did.
Friday, September 12
Louisiana
When her phone chirped with the ringtone she had assigned Cutter, Brea lurched up in bed. She glanced at the digital clock as she grabbed her cell off the nightstand. Three thirty-four a.m. At that hour, she didn’t bother with hello. “Did you find Pierce?”
“Yeah.” Cutter’s voice sounded rough, grim. “It’s not good, Bre-bee.”
She shut her eyes as dread washed over her. She was almost afraid to ask what the cartel had done to Pierce. He’d been so big and vital, so larger-than-life. She couldn’t imagine him any other way. Brea didn’t want to harbor hate in her heart, but it festered and snarled for these savage people who pushed drugs on children and destroyed a man fighting for right.
But she dredged for her courage and asked what she was afraid to hear. “Is he still alive?”
“For now.”
“Where is he?”
“New Orleans, at Tulane Medical Center. The entire team went in to retrieve Walker. We’re all a little banged up, but we’ll be walking out this afternoon. If he makes it the next twenty-four hours, he’ll be down for a while.”
Brea bit her lip, but nothing held in her tears. The arm she curled around herself didn’t give her any comfort. She’d prayed and worried constantly since she’d learned he had been taken prisoner, but during the days and weeks before, when she hadn’t reached out, contacted him, begged God to save him… Those ate at her. The guilt consumed her.
“I’m coming there.”
But how could she do that? Her dad was recovering from another successful bypass surgery, which should keep his heart functioning for years to come, God willing. But he hadn’t been home long. He still needed nearly round-the-clock care. She owed it to him to make sure he got his meds and ate healthy meals, to see to his responsibilities at the church and his comfort…
“Why?”
Cutter wanted to know the reason she’d traipse across the state to show mercy to her rapist. Brea wasn’t wasting the time or energy to cut through his pigheadedness now. He wasn’t ready to hear that she’d fallen for Pierce. He might be her best friend…but he didn’t always understand her heart.
“He saved your life. For that alone, I’ll be eternally grateful. And he has no one else.” She defaulted to arguments he would understand. “And I show everyone Christian charity. It’s not my place to judge who deserves it and who doesn’t.”
“But I know you.” He sighed. “You won’t want to see another human being nearly beaten to death.”
Cutter’s description made her catch her breath. She had to go to Pierce. Her father was getting stronger every day. If the remorse she felt for not reaching out to Pierce since she’d last seen him ate her up, how much worse would her regret be if he didn’t pull through? Devastating. She needed to tell him that he’d touched her heart, that she would never forget him, and if God deemed it necessary, she would mourn him, bury him, and find some way to say goodbye.
“Please don’t treat me like I’m fragile. He’s endured this ordeal and fighting through all the resulting pain. It’s nothing for me to come to him, hold his hand, and pray.”
Cutter hesitated. “All right. Some of the others are heading up to Lafayette soon, but I’ll wait for you here.”
“I’ll…call Jennifer. Hopefully, she’ll be willing to come watch over Daddy.”
“I have no doubt she will,” he said wryly. “Ring me from the road. It’ll be dark for most of your drive.”
“I will.”
Brea hesitated ending the call. Once she did, she would be severing the only line of information between her and Pierce. That scared her. The thought of him enduring such agony made her physically ache.
So often, she swallowed back tears in times of tumult or tragedy because she had to be the stalwart one. She almost always filled the role of someone’s prayer partner, helpmate, or rock. Today, she couldn’t hold in her sobs.
