Chapter 21
Compared to the vast terrifying forest the helicopter should feel like a safe cocoon. Instead it feels like a blacked out tin can with no air inside.
Shifting in my seat, I try to shake the sensation that my skin is shrinking.
“I’m going to check you over,” the medic kneeling at my feet says through the headset as his eyes hold mine in the cabin lit only by red lights.
“I’m pretty sore.”
His expression hardens as he glances at Ryker. “We’ll get you fixed up.”
The blades thrum overhead, a relentless pounding roar that vibrates through my bones. The chopper tilts and I jolt, hissing in a breath.
I’m safe.
I know that.
But my body hasn’t gotten the message. I’m queasy. Shaking inside. Overstimulated like I’ve had ten cups of coffee and got on a carnival ride.
Don’t throw up. Not in front of them.
The medic gathers both my hands in his gloved ones, turning my wrist for a look.
“She’s got some deep wounds on her wrists,” he reports to Ryker, or whoever he’s talking to.
“It was plastic zip-tie cuffs,” I stammer, but my brain stalls out as I’m flooded with horrific memories. The van—the smell and the pain comes back in a flash. I must flinch because his hands tighten to steady me.
“Easy. You’re safe here. Two minutes and I’ll have them bandaged.”
“He has them too,” I say, hoarse, motioning at Ryker with my chin.
Blood is caked on both his arms. There are deep cuts carved into his skin from the restraints he fought for god knows how long.
“Look at him, too, please.”
“I’m fine,” Ryker replies in his headset as he looks at me like…
Like I’m the world.
“You’re not fine,” I insist.
The hunter’s shirt he’s wearing is pushed up on his forearms, he’s torn up from wrist to his elbows. Plus the cuts from tree branches on his face and neck.
And he’s sitting there telling a medic he’s fine. My brows pull together and Ryker catches it.
“Just scratches,” he says, tone just shy of husky.
Thane chuckles through the headset. “Oh boy. She got you good.”
Ryker doesn’t look away from me. “Yeah. She did. She does. Have me, that is.”
Heat floods my face, surprising me. I look away, but the words are already in, settling in deep in a raw place.
“You’re a fucking machine,” Thane says, changing the subject thankfully, punching Ryker in the shoulder. “Don’t know all the details, but I know with all those people on the mountain looking for you...”
His voice fades in and out. Or maybe it’s my brain fading.
“Those fuckers put tracking collars on us. Told me they were explosive.”
The weight of the collar seems to still sit on my neck. I reach for the place, but the medic pulls my hand down and treats another scrape.
“Damn,” Thane whistles. “Guess they weren’t rigged?”
“No.” Ryker’s voice seems to roughen. “But there for a minute, I wasn’t sure.”
The scene plays over in my head, complete with the smell of the bunker, the feeling of the pliers in my hands. “He made me cut a wire.”
Thane turns toward me, gaze sharper now. “No shit. Really?”
It takes effort not to shudder. “Yes, I was terrified.”
“We had one chance of getting clear of the tracking system,” Ryker says, matter-of-fact, like I couldn’t have killed us both. “She did great.”
“Looks that way. She was handling that shotgun like a pro as she ran to the chopper.”
Heat creeps up my neck and I focus again on the treatment of the hundreds of scrapes on my arms, face, and neck.
“We’re heading to Safe House Four.” Thane changes topics and I’m glad to have the focus off of me. “We’ll get you caught up when we’re there.”
“Copy,” Ryker replies, gaze still on me. In the way he does. Assessing, reading between all of my lines, even when I’m not sure I want anyone inside my head.
“Bet you two could use some of this.”
I’m surprised when Thane hands out bags of chips.
Chips? Like this is just a commercial airline flight.
When I tear the bag open and the first chip touches my tongue I almost lose it in a completely different way.
Oh my god.
Salt and oil and that toasty flavor is so stupidly normal that my eyes sting. I shove another chip in my mouth because if I slow down I’m going to cry. Truthfully I might cry anyway.
Ryker kicks Thane’s shin when he snickers at my moan. It’s such a guy thing to do that a weak laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
“Good, huh?” Ryker asks, a hint of a smile on his exhausted face.
“So good. I’ve never fallen in love with a bag of chips before, but consider it done.”
For a moment the storm inside me calms. I’m enjoying the beginning of a carb buzz when Colt breaks the silence. “What’s in the backpack, Ryker?”
“Took this off a body,” Ryker replies, grabbing it. “Thought it might help lead us to the organizers. With luck, this will give some intel, plus the two phones I got off the same guy. He was trying to pay me off with his crypto wallet.”
I focus on the potato chips and the mundane task of chewing and swallowing. Not dead men. Or criminal money. Not the fact that we could have been the bodies.
They go back and forth. Some kind of military jargon.
I stop listening and concentrate on the salt on my fingers and the crunch between my teeth and the fact that I am eating potato chips. Which means I am alive.
Ryker asks a question that catches my attention anyway.
“ETA to the safe house?”
“We land in twenty minutes, another twenty by road,” Thane replies.
“Are you refueling when you drop us?”
The pilot who hasn’t spoken yet breaks through on the headset. “We can if you need me to run another op.”
“You up for snatching one of the hunters live?” Ryker asks, a gleam in his eyes as his hands tighten on the backpack. “I’d love to really have time to interrogate one of them.”
Wait. What?
I sit up too fast, panic ripping through me. “You can’t go back there. Ryker, you’ve been drugged, you haven’t slept, you can’t—”
All the control I had over my thoughts—weak as it was—vanishes, and I’m freaking out. Straight up freaking.
Ready to climb on his lap and hold him down.
Thane’s expression turns concerned as he lifts a hand. “He was talking about the two of us. Don’t worry, we wouldn’t put him back in the field right now.”
Colt, the medic shifts closer, to work on the cuts on my neck from tree branches. “I’ll clean these up. Might sting.”
I nod, absently, still upset at the idea that Ryker could end up back in the field.
They resume their conversation about gathering intel as Ryker dumps the contents of the backpack from the hunter onto the floor.
“Let’s see what else this asshole was carrying,” he rumbles in the headset.
There are rifle magazines. Some kind of rope. A package of batteries and a bundle of zip ties.
My stomach turns over, my body growing tight. Zip ties. I look away. But it’s hard. I can’t get my eyes off the black plastic strips.
The helicopter banks again and a small gasp slips from my throat.
Colt’s watching me this time. “Maybe we should give you a little something for the anxiety.”
I barely notice the flat object, disturbed by the motion of the chopper sliding across the floor before it lands against my dirty tennis shoes.
I don’t really mean to look. But it catches my eyes. And everything inside me stops.
It’s a printed photograph. A woman stretched out on concrete. Her eyes are closed and her arms arranged by her sides.
That’s… that’s me.
Oh god.
Gripping the edge of my seat, I sway when the chopper dips. Or maybe it doesn’t dip, but my insides do.
“They printed a picture of me and gave it to the hunters.”
For a split second no one moves. Then Ryker explodes into motion. He snatches the photo, crumples it in his fist.
“Jade.”
I can’t look at him, I can’t even move a muscle.
“Jade. Sweetheart.”
Suddenly he’s in front of me. On me. Unbuckling me, dragging me forward out of my seat.
I’m dizzy. My stomach is violently clenching, hard enough to make me groan. Ryker rocks me against his chest, holding me in his lap. Cradling my head against his shoulder.
The air feels thinner. I try again to inhale and suddenly there’s a mask being pushed toward my face.
“It’s oxygen,” Colt tells me, moving carefully.
Ryker’s hand smoothes across my back and his voice breaks through my fog, but it’s not directed to me. “We need support waiting at the safe house. Medical and counseling. I want a forensic for her, if she wants it.”
Colt replies, “Copy.”
Forensic. The word plows through me. Knocking my heart down into my stomach.
I splinter into a million terrified pieces. At the time of the crash, when they grabbed me, I was in Agile Security & Rescue sweats. I wasn’t when I woke up.
I knew this. Thought about it before. Someone changed me into the dress, but seeing myself like that is too much.
Too. Much.
We’re in the air, but it feels like I’m drowning, every breath a labor, even with the oxygen flowing against my face.
Ryker’s arms tighten protectively, his own breathing growing deep, heavy like he’s breathing for me. “Do you want something to take the edge off, baby?”
“Yes,” I gasp, still trying to inhale when it feels impossible.
Thane’s talking to someone through his headset about getting professionals to the safe house and Colt’s pulling out supplies from his medical bag.
They’re efficient. No hesitation and not a single question, because they all understand what that photo means.
“You sure you want medication?” Colt asks me to verify, and I love that he’s giving me a choice. Letting me keep my power. They all are.
“I can inject you or give you a pill.”
“Yes,” I choke on a sob, unable to say more. Ryker’s hand shifts slightly on my back. He applies a steady pressure.
“I’m giving you a pill,” Colt decides. “I don’t want to distress you any more.”
Thane hops into action, producing a water bottle and I’m swallowing a chalky pill in the next instant.
Within a few minutes, the worst of the shaking seems to ebb. A fraction of the thoughts soften. When Colt sees me melting into Ryker’s arms, he grips my shoulder gently.
“That-a-girl. Just rest.”