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“Charlotte—” Ham motions to Nick’s prone body. “You can make it out with him.”
“I’m not leaving you!” I cry.
My eyes begin to water from squinting into the wind, watching as Nick, still unconscious, is lifted into the helicopter.
The wind has picked up to even more dangerous levels. I imagine the pilot fighting to retain control. But at least Nick made it. “He’s in,” I say as the helicopter swoops away. There’s a pang of fear as the sound of the rotor blades fades into the storm.
“Let’s go,” Ham orders.
Once again on the back of the snowmobile, clutching Ham around the waist. Only now it’s me fighting lightheaded-ness as he speeds off.
I pass out before we get somewhere safe.
Chapter Eight
The snow has stopped when I finally open my eyes.
And then I realize I’m inside what looks like a little cabin, lying on a pallet on the floor. It’s empty, save a few black cases that I recognize that holds Ham’s tech.
This is where he was while Nick and I were inside the silo, monitoring our every move and trying to keep us as safe as he could.
He should be gone; all of his stuff should be gone. The NIIA plans for extraction of handlers at the same time as agents.
Ham should be far away by now, but instead he came back to get me.
I have to wet my lips before I speak. “Where…?” I mumble. My throat is parched, my body feels battered and seriously bruised, but I’m…warm.
That’s when I notice the fire crackling in the fireplace. There’s not much else in the room. “…Ham?”
“I’m here.”
And he is, kneeling beside me, pushing the strands of hair that have escaped from my braid off my face. It’s a tender gesture but the expression on his face is anything but. Still, he tilts a bottle of water to my lips and I take a few sips.
“What happened? Where are we?”
“In the woods a few kilometers outside the launch site. A good base, although I never thought it would wind up as a safe house.”
“How long have I been out?”
He checks his watch. “About six hours. The storm should break soon.”
“Is anyone looking for us?”
Ham shakes his head with a worried expression. “I’m not sure. Nick is on his way to Poland with Alessia and Tyler. They suspect a fractured skull, possible leg injury.
My voice cracks. “He’ll be okay?”
Ham nods, his face tight. “He will be.”
“And you?” I swallow, and Ham offers more water. “You’re okay?”
“You scared me half to death.”
My eyes widen. The last thing I wanted to do is frighten Ham because I know how deeply he cares about our safety.
My safety. “I’m—”
“All of a sudden you let go.” Ham runs his hand through his hair, leaving it mussed and so unlike him I can only stare. “I looked back and you were lying there on the snow. I saw the blood. So much blood. Why didn’t you tell me you were shot?” he suddenly thunders.
