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“I’ll do my best.” He readied the chopper, slowly losing height, only to bank off to one side when a semi appeared out of some fog, horn blaring. Lights nearly blinding them. The truck whizzed past, water spraying off the top, before disappearing just as quickly. Nothing but utter blackness around them.
Callie leaned forward, pointing off to the right. “There. I’m pretty sure that’s another road.”
Booker nodded, lining up the cross road.
“Wires!”
Wyatt’s voice boomed through the cockpit, as Booker tipped them back — climbing over the lines while swinging the gear to one side before leveling out. Centering them back on the road.
Wyatt followed him on the controls, keeping it steady when Booker wasn’t even convinced he was moving them, anymore. One hand slipped into his lap for a moment before he managed to grab the cyclic. Straighten them out.
Wyatt reached over — gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Just another minute, and you can rest all you want. I’ll fucking run your ass to the hospital, just get us down in one piece.”
His buddy made it sound so easy. As if staying awake was simple. Something Booker had done a thousand times. And he tried. Focused on keeping his eyes open, his hands moving. Watching the road inch closer, all that rain settling on the bubble. Distorting the view. But it all started fading. A series of streaks joining the dots across his vision. Voices sounded in the distance, hands grabbing his arms, as he gave it one last shot, hoping he’d actually landed, before his head fell forward, and everything went numb.
CHAPTER15
He was dead.And it was all her fault.
Calliope bolted from the chopper, yanking open Booker’s door while everything was still rocking. The rotors whining overhead. Fumes whirling around her as thunder rolled across the sky, rain falling in steady sheets.
“Jesus.” Blood. Everywhere. His shirt, the seat — pooling on the floor. “Booker? Baby, talk to me.”
She gave him a shake when he didn’t respond. “Wyatt? He needed a doctor twenty minutes, ago. God, how the hell did he stay conscious all this way?”
Wyatt rolled off the throttle, cranking some knobs under the seat before jumping out — meeting her on Booker’s side. “Bastard’s a piece of work. I’ll take him. You run ahead and get them ready. He’s gonna need all the blood they’ve got.”
She nodded then took off, sprinting up the street. Gun at the ready, just in case. God, how had she missed Higgins had teamed up with Rogers? It made so much sense, now. How Rogers had known she was in Puerto Rico. Why he hadn’t been worried in the shack. How he’d known Booker was there. All clues she’d missed.
And Booker had paid the price.
Callie pushed the thoughts aside, pumping her arms harder. Picking up her feet just enough to gain a bit more speed. Wyatt wasn’t that far behind, carrying Booker as if it was nothing. Looking tough and strong, each one of his strides matching two of hers.
She hit the sliding doors still sprinting, yelling out for a doctor. She pointed to the doors, badge in one hand, gun in the other. “I’ve got an agent incoming with a GSW to his right rib cage. Probably a forty-five. He’s lost a ton of blood. He can’t wait.”
Some guy in scrubs frowned, then headed for the door, stepping back when Wyatt barreled through, blood covering half his shirt. He didn’t speak just continued through the main section, down the hallway then into one of the trauma rooms, placing Booker on the stretcher, before turning and staring at the doctor. The kind of scowl Callie assumed got new recruits shitting their pants.
Wyatt leaned in close. “My best friend just saved our asses. You’d best save his.”
It wasn’t a threat. Not really. At least, not one Callie thought would lead to anything. The vague kind she hoped the doctor would chalk up to emotions running high. But it got the man moving. Barking out orders as he did a quick once-over then hooked up an IV. Got a bag of O neg dripping into Booker’s other arm.
Less than two minutes, and a full team was rushing around, grabbing supplies, writing down stats and numbers she didn’t understand. Then, they were ushering her and Wyatt out, talking about how they needed room to do their job. That they couldn’t transport Booker with the weather grounding the choppers and part of the road flooded. The shitstorm he’d flown in to ensure she and Wyatt were safe.
A slam of the door, and Booker was gone. Hidden behind the cold white door with nothing but a trail of blood as proof he’d been there. That she might lose the best thing to ever happen to her before she’d even had the chance to enjoy it.
To start the other half of the life she’d been waiting for.
A hand settled on her shoulder, and she turned into Wyatt, closing her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. “He’ll be okay. Booker’s more stubborn than anyone I know. No way one tiny bullet’s going to do him in.”
She nodded, wanting to believe Wyatt was right. That, once Booker got a few pints of blood into him, he’d be fine. But the words wouldn’t form on her tongue.
Wyatt sighed. “Come on. You need a once-over, too.”
She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself once she’d stepped back. “I’m fine. We need to call it in. Get the DEA’s special ops team out to the site. Make sure there aren’t a bunch of armed assholes hiding in the wings, waiting to ambush anyone who shows up. Get an ABP out on Higgins. Fuck, I can’t believe I missed that.”
“No one saw it coming. This isn’t your fault.”
“Tell that to Booker.”
