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Everything seemed so surreal. She had been in flight mode for the last five days, adrenaline kicking into her system on a regular basis between a beautiful, impossible relationship and love she’d found with a man who had been sent to save her—in so many ways and the obsessed sadist and his fucking army to do unspeakable things to her and eventually end her life.
She had been terrified when her own life had been threatened, when she thought she was going to be violated, but that feeling hadn’t compared to the terrible wrenching in her heart as she watched Easy get beaten, heard those terrible sounds. He would have died. For her. Because of her. She would have lost him forever. She looked down at the watch on her wrist. It had fallen from Ramos’s pocket during the fight. She had scooped it up before the SEALs had double-timed it away from that clearing.
Everyone was completely quiet as Twister worked quickly and efficiently over him. There was no choice anyway. The noise was so loud, she had no idea how anyone could communicate in this kind of environment. Twister slapped a pad over the wound. The chopper shot over the land like a bullet in the sky, sleek and black.
In the back, near one of the biggest men she’d ever seen, the one who handled a dog, looking as fierce as his handler did, sat Juan Acosta. He gave her a reassuring look, but she wanted to touch Easy, see for herself that he was alive.
“Hold on,” came through her helmet. “We’re coming in hot and fast.” The chopper banked hard to the left, and before she could catch her breath, it was setting down next to a huge cargo plane.
Where there was complete silence and no movement, suddenly everything was a blur of sound and activity. His teammates slid Easy out of the chopper’s deck and double-timed it to the jet. Shark took her arm, hustling her across the tarmac, and she gasped softly at the sudden pain there. She looked down and saw she had a deep gash.
Jerking her arm out of Shark’s grasp, she took the ramp like an Olympic sprinter, her heart in her throat, nothing on her mind except getting to Easy.
Once inside the cavernous jet, Jack felt trapped and frantic. A kind of shock setting in, Jack stumbled, the panic and fear she had experienced earlier overwhelming her.
Catching her balance, she turned toward a knot of guys, her legs shaky beneath her. She clenched and unclenched her hands and swallowed hard.Where was he?She couldn’t see him.
She was shivering so badly and feeling so jittery inside that she had to grit her teeth to keep them from chattering. But it was a different kind of cold. It was as though she was experiencing a delayed reaction to all the stress that had accumulated over the past month, and the panic over Easy was the last straw. Her stomach rolled, and she felt light-headed. And she just couldn’t hold it all in any longer. She was aware of people around her, the distinct sound of someone calling her name, but the periphery was one big blur. Then she glimpsed the edge of the gurney. That had to be him. He was against the plane’s wall. It was his hoarse voice calling her name.
A sob twisted loose. She flew at them, pounding on backs, pushing at heavy muscles and kicking at shins. It was like she was trying to displace the Great Wall of China. “Move!” she ordered frantically. The wall crumbled against a force of nature that had one goal and one goal only. Get to Easy.
He was thrashing against his teammates’ efforts to keep him still and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was for his own protection. Twister stood there with a syringe in his hand.
“Easy,” she whispered, her heart and her soul aching at the damage done to his beloved face and body. His head turned toward the sound of her voice and just like that he fell back. “Jack,” he said gruffly, reaching out for her. “Are you okay?” She took his hand, clasping both hands around his, her fingers intertwining with his and pulling it to her chest.
“I’m all right, Matthew. I’m here.”
Twister moved toward him, and she blocked his way. “What are you doing?”
“Miss Devers, I need to sedate him,” he said in one of those naturally raspy male voices. He held up his hand to calm her, but she couldn’t seem to hold onto any kind of rationality. “He’s disoriented and his concern over you is making it difficult to treat him. The more he thrashes, the more I can’t stabilize him. I need you to step away from him for just a few moments.”
A strong hand gripped her upper arm, trying to draw her away from the gurney. She fought, refusing to budge. Maintaining a hold on her arm, Shark caught her by the chin and forced her gaze away from Easy. “Stop it, Jack,” he commanded firmly. “Stop. You’re impeding his treatment and this plane’s progress. We can’t take off until everyone is seated. Easy can’t get more intensive medical attention until we reach Walter Reed.”
“It’s been us together, running for so long. Tell me he’s going to be okay.”
“We understand. We all want the same thing. We’re Easy’s brothers and we wouldn’t let anything harm him. He’s in good hands,” Shark said. “Twister just needs to treat him.”
Shark had helped them. She could trust him.
A tall, handsome man, a little older than the others with an air of authority that commanded her attention, drew her notice immediately. “Ma’am, I’m these men’s CO, Tex,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “I want you to take a deep breath and listen to me. This is our combat medic, Shane Reeves.” He clasped his hand on Twister’s shoulder. “He goes with us everywhere. He’s been with us for a long time, administering to our medical needs. Twister has been awarded the Special Operations Medic of the Year, twice, and received the Bronze and Silver Star for valor under fire. He has never faltered, Miss Devers. He certainly won’t falter here. Easy is in the most skilled, capable hands we have on this plane. Easy’s well-being and yours are our number one priority. Let us get you comfortable, get fluids and food into your system and get that gash taken care of. You’re safe and Easy’s safe. You can trust us with your life and with Easy’s.”
The significance of what he was saying finally penetrated, her mind almost unable to function. She looked at Tex, trying to absorb his words, his meaning, her panic over getting to Easy abating slightly. She turned back to Twister, the open, caring look on his face reassuring her. These were men like Easy…his teammates, his friends, his brothers. Twister’s expression narrowed as he stared at her, going from supportive to concerned. “Jack, you’re shocking out from too much adrenaline,” Twister said.
She swayed, closing her eyes and touching her temple, the edges of her vision graying and narrowing, like she was looking down a long tunnel. “I need you to sit down.” She wavered and suddenly her legs couldn’t hold her. “She’s going down,” Twister shouted, and the big man from the chopper moved faster than any big man had a right to. He got to her and caught her as she collapsed.
The big guy carried her to a seat and set her down. For several minutes, she just rested there while her mind spun.
“Get her a blanket, water, and a power bar,” Twister ordered, his voice penetrating her fog. She opened her eyes for a moment and saw him working over Easy. His intent look reassured her that her Prince Charming was in the best hands.
“Easy,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about me.” Shark draped a blanket around her shoulders and offered her a power bar. She took it and ripped off the wrapper, practically inhaling it. Then she accepted the water and drank it down.
“Relax, Jack,” Shark said.
She nodded, taking a deep breath and releasing it. Her heart laboring from the awful tension, her gaze never wavered from Easy. She clenched her jaw against the awful swell of tears. God, she had been so scared. So damned scared.
Shark sat down next to her, and she looked at him, wanting to thank him. But there was no way she could get the words out. Her throat was too tight. He stared at her for a minute, then reached out a hand toward her. It dawned on her that she was out of Venezuela, Ramos was dead, Easy was stable, and she was going home. She was safe. She slipped her hand into his, grateful for the support, for the steadying effect. Grateful that he was there. His eyes softening slightly, he said, “This is a pretty uncomfortable ride, and you must be exhausted.” Handing her a pair of ear-plugs, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you lean just a little bit?”
She tightened the blanket around her, still feeling the effects of the adrenaline overload. The seats faced the center of the plane and were made out of tightly stretched orange cargo netting supported by flimsy aluminum tubing. There was no backrest, just the slightly padded wall of the plane, but she’d learned not to take anything for granted anymore, even an offer of comfort. She settled against him as the ramp started to close. The hydraulics were loud in the cavernous hold, where there was nothing but gear, Easy’s gurney, Juan, the SEALs, and—her throat got so tight—a flag-draped coffin.
