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Once there was nowhere for Grace to go, Amos released his recovery target. She thrust herself off his lap only to collapse onto her hands and knees, stricken by her circumstances. Twisting around, she fixed tear-stained eyes at him. “Please, go back.” Her voice was hoarse from screaming. She glanced at the pilots in the cockpit. “Make them go back.”
Amos set aside his helmet. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “It’s not up to me.”
With a moan of despair, she lowered her forehead to the rivets on the metal floor. Then she fell over onto her side, drawing her knees to her chest. Her deep, rasping sobs drove Amos to the cockpit to share a word with the crew.
By the time he rejoined his men, Grace was strapped onto a bench seat, her head lolling, limbs loose, blessedly silent. The first rays of sunlight shot through the open hatch, sparking auburn highlights in the rich brown hair that swung past her pale face.
“I gave her a shot of lorazepam,” Bambino explained as Amos stopped and stared. “I couldn’t take it anymore, Senior Chief.”
Amos nodded. He didn’t blame Bambino one bit.
Seating himself across from his recovery target, Amos regarded her a moment, then looked around at the silent occupants. There was no mistaking the tension in the cabin. Bambino frowned as he checked their first-aid inventory. Theo was organizing his backpack. And Ben, ready to defend them against some random guerilla armed with a grenade launcher, shot him a disapproving frown.
“What?” Amos demanded. “You think they’d let us leave an undocumented kid in Curaçao?”
“We could’ve tried it, Mako. He was just a kid, hardly a threat to national security.”
“Trust me. He’s better off with the missionaries. They’ll watch him until his adoption papers appear.” He really had no idea how adoption worked, especially with a child from a country hostile to U.S interests.
Ben shook his head and looked back outside.
Sighing inwardly, Amos reconsidered the now-silent recovery target. He’d made his decision based on regulation, expectation, and discipline, and now his stomach churned. He, more than anyone, knew how it felt to have a child stolen away from him.
* * *
Grace burrowed deeper into the cozy cocoon she floated in.Don’t wake up.There were reasons to avoid a return to consciousness. Yet the rhythmic movement of her body roused her, making her aware that her head wasn’t on a pillow, but rather a densely muscled shoulder. A distinctly masculine scent rose into her nostrils. Was it Doug who was holding her in his arms? Her ex-husband was a big, strong high-school football coach. Sweeping a hand up the rock-hard chest, she remembered his betrayal and, with a cry of protest, lifted her heavy head to demand he let her go.
The painted face angling down at her brought it all back.
Navy SEAL Amos McLeod was carrying her across a hot and windy tarmac toward an airport terminal. The Chinook’s two rotors slowed in a descending musical scale behind them, where two of the four SEALs were watching her as they followed their leader. Turning her head, she discovered the dark-skinned SEAL was walking just ahead of them.
“Put me down.” Her words came out in a hoarse croak. The last thing she remembered was one of the SEALs jabbing a needle in her thigh. But it wasthisman, addressed by the others as Mako or Senior Chief, who had prevented her from bringing Mateo. She started to struggle.
“You won’t be able to stand,” he warned.
“Let go of me!” The fear that she might have lost Mateo forever lent her the strength to fight his hold.
He sent her an arctic glare and stopped walking. “You want me to put you down?”
“Yes!”
“Fine then.” He dropped one arm, releasing her legs. As her boots touched the tarmac, she twisted her upper body free of his hold and—to her astonishment—felt herself falling as her legs refused to function.
Quick as lightning, McLeod caught her in mid-descent, pulled her up, and set her on her feet again.
“Don’t touch me.” She pried free of his hold, loathing him with her whole being.
He held his hands up to signify surrender and watched her keel right over. This time he didn’t move to catch her.
“Oooph!” Grace landed on the sun-warmed cement, pain radiating from her hip and elbow.
With a helpless look, the senior chief shrugged and continued toward the building.
The two SEALs behind them rushed over to help her up. “You okay, ma’am?”
The young, dark-haired one who’d stuck her with a syringe full of tranquilizer was all concern now.
Grace couldn’t answer.Okay?She would never be okay again.
