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“We’re fine back here,” Charley replied.
Thank God. But why wasn’t Gray talking?
I felt around for the seat belt latch and unbuckled, my body immediately folding into an even worse angle, my neck hollering at me.
Positioning myself with my knees beneath me on the window that was pressed to the ground, I pivoted to the side and felt around for the lights, unable to see a damn thing in there.
Once the inside of the Bronco was basked in the soft glow of the light, I could finally put eyes on my best friend. He was still strapped in, the belt holding him in place, but his arms and body were limp. Head hanging. Eyes closed. A gash across his brow and blood trickling down the side of his face.
He’d taken the brunt of the impact when we’d been struck, and I had to assume it was a tank or heavy-duty equipment that had flipped us so easily.
“He’s not dead, right?” Lucy cried out just before we were abruptly plowed into again, sending me careening into the roof, bashing my head against it.
We kept sliding until we were wedged up against something solid enough to stop us. The jungle howled in protest to our being there as more rounds of gunfire blasted all around us. My team, more than likely, amid battle out there, and I was unable to help.
“Gray?” I shifted around again, trying to get to him. Please be okay. You have to be okay. I reached up and checked for a pulse, and my shoulders fell with relief. “His pulse is steady. And nothing appears to be impaling him.”
Bullets continued to crack all around us, and the bullet-resistant windows would only hold up so long before the glass eventually did give way. Since the SUVs were used for smuggling routes, it made sense they’d taken precautions and had armored vehicles. Thank God for their paranoia.
Although, why were they shooting at us? Did the cartel bastards not get the memo Charley and Lucy were wanted alive not dead? Had something changed? Or did they no longer care?
“The gunfire, is that just from the . . .?” Charley let her sentence hang in the air.
“My teammates are returning fire.” That I was sure of, and since we’d yet to be rammed again, I hoped that meant we were on the winning side.
Static popped over Gray’s radio seconds later before Jesse’s voice filled the vehicle. “Y’all okay in there?”
“Gray’s unconscious,” I responded. “The rest of us are good.”
“Shit, okay. Give us another second. I need to check the tank and ensure they’re all dead.”
Tank. Thought so. “Roger that.” I looked back to put eyes on Charley and Lucy again. They were behind my seat, both unbuckled and huddled together in an awkward position. Getting out of the SUV was going to be tricky with the reinforced glass. “We’ll need to go out the trunk or climb out from Lucy’s side door.”
When Gray began coughing, I snapped my focus his way. “Well, that road wasn’t on the map,” he said before groaning. “You all okay?”
“Better now that you’re awake.” I reached out, stopping him from unbuckling. “That belt is keeping you from crashing into me.”
“Shit, yeah, you’re right.” He shook his head, blinking as blood hit his lashes. “This must be their own version of border control. Or to ensure no one on their side tries to double-cross them.”
“Which is why they left the road off the map,” I said just as Jesse came back over the radio.
“We’re clear for now. My guess is they’ll have people waiting in Peru, though.” Jesse paused for a second, then I heard him knock twice at the back. “Try and pop the trunk to crawl out that way. If not, I’ll climb to the side to open that door.”
I set aside the radio, and thankfully, the trunk opened with a little help from Jesse guiding it as it slid across the dirt road. “Gray’s awake now,” I yelled back to Jesse and Carter, standing armed behind our vehicle. “But he’s hurt. Needs medical attention.”
“I’m fine. Relax. Just a concussion,” Gray stubbornly protested. “Get the women out, and we’ll be right behind them.” He looked at me and jerked a thumb. “Exit first. I’ll fall on top of you otherwise.”
Once the back seat was clear, I pulled myself through the opening to get there, then twisted back around to the front. “Let me help you so you don’t hit your head again.” Not waiting for him to argue, I leaned in and wrapped my arm around his body, keeping him from falling or fucking up his prosthesis.
“I’m good, I’m good,” he grumbled once freed from the front seat. I helped him out, then went back for the bag of weapons before joining everyone.
Charley lunged into my arms, and I dropped the bag to hold her. “I got you,” I murmured into her ear, cupping the back of her head, drawing her cheek to my chest.
It was dark out, but there was a flurry of movement around me—my team planning next steps—and there I was, lost to Charley’s soft inhalations as she squeezed hold of me.
“I found a first aid kit when I got food and water back at that house,” Mya said.
From over Charley’s head, I watched Gray wave off Mya’s attempt to help him walk around our banged-up Bronco. “I hit my head; I didn’t bust up my leg.”
