CHAPTER TWO #2
He pulled out of that rundown area and back onto the paved roadway.
No one had followed, and he'd been correct in assuming the others had run away.
They were probably reporting to someone, but that was not his concern.
He stole glances at the man now seated in his car with his head rolling back and forth against the side window.
He adjusted the seat so that he could lie back more comfortably.
It wasn't a long drive to the private airstrip, and he was pulling in and parking near the hangar a mere half hour after leaving the derelict warehouse.
He had reached over and checked the man's pulse at least five times during the drive.
He'd been so silent and so still that he'd feared the worst, but he continued to survive, and the struggle was becoming obvious.
Ramos didn't know this man, but he'd known men like him driven, single-minded, running from something and not afraid of dying.
Kai was all those things, and it was written on his face; it lived in the blueness of his eyes and was etched in the scars that showed on his hands, arms, and what he could see of his torso.
One of the guards opened the passenger door and started to unclip the unconscious man. Ramos nudged him to the side, doing it himself and lifting Kai into his arms. "I got him." He told him and carried the man up the stairs and onto the plane. The guard followed with Ramos' duffle bag.
Ramos carried Kai to the back of the plane to the large bedroom, laid him on the bed, and then called for the doctor. When he turned toward the door, Kai woke and started sitting up. He abruptly turned back.
"Stay where you are. The doctor is coming to assess your injuries." He held him by the shoulders as gently as possible and attempted to have him lie back down.
"I'm fine." Kai was breathless and pushed him back, throwing his feet over the side of the bed. He was not fine. Kai’s clothing was hanging off him, and his back was bare, and what Ramos saw chilled him for a moment.
All preconceived ideas of who this man was and what he stood for drained away.
His back and upper arms looked like they’d gone through a meat grinder.
How did anyone suffer that level of abuse and not die was the thought that stuck in his head.
Kai realized his body was showing and tried to straighten what was left of his shirt to cover himself, and he made no comment.
"You're not leaving, Kai," Ramos said in a voice that wasn't harsh but was final.
"You're on Master DuCane's jet, and we're on our way to Mt.
Pleasant." Ramos slipped off his jacket, a soft black leather jacket he'd picked up in Italy a few years ago, and without a word draped it over Kai's shoulders.
"Let the doctor check your vitals, and I'll get you something to eat.
" Ramos stepped out of the room, and the doctor entered, closing the door.
He took a seat and stared out the window, letting everything settle in his mind for a moment.
The scars were massive and deep; some were burns, some were whip marks, and some were from knives, from what he could see at a quick glance, and they were older not ancient, but probably at least a few years old.
Some were older than others. Whoever did them made sure to put them in places that could be covered.
He rubbed his hand over his face and tried to force the vision from his mind. Why was it bothering him? He didn't know Kai, and they had no relationship; why was he caring? Kai didn't want anything from him, least of all his pity, but it wasn't pity that he felt; it was sympathy and compassion.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt either of those things. There was no room for sympathy in his line of work; he did his job, and he went home, and that was an end: no thoughts, commiseration, or sympathy.
He watched the door, and when the doctor exited, he stood and met him, stepping away from the guards positioned throughout the jet and cornering the doctor to one side. His expression demanded an accounting, and the doctor immediately complied.
“He’s exhausted and has suffered abrasions on his elbows, knees, and shoulders, but nothing serious except for the puncture wound on his side.
It had partially healed, but infection is present.
He received an antibiotic shot, and I gave him medication to take over the next ten days.
It should be fine. He has massive scar tissue on his torso and upper arms, but none of those are recent.
” He stopped and checked his notes before continuing.
“He was doused with a spell that left him mildly confused and would have caused periodic blackouts. I believe it was a truth spell based on the resulting confusion and blackouts.”
“Has it left his system?”
"I gave him something to flush it out, so he should not have any further side effects." The doctor was methodical and professional, and Ramos appreciated the demeanor. DuCane only ever hired the best.
"Everything else is normal with a slightly elevated blood pressure, but that would be expected considering his ordeal." Ramos thought about that word for a moment; ordeal could probably describe the guy's entire life.
“Thank you, doctor.”
"Of course." With that, the doctor moved to the front of the jet, and Ramos knocked on the bedroom door. He wasn't going to second-guess himself or his interest in this man any further; for some reason, he needed to check on this guy, and he needed to understand him.