Chapter 11 #2
Enya recoiled, her shoulders slamming back against the bulkhead.
Rowan caught her wrist before she could yank the IV line free.
“Easy. It’s just some pain reliever, I promise.
” He held Grif’s gaze until the man nodded, then reached for the bottle and a fresh syringe.
He turned the bottle so Enya could see the label.
“See that? I promise it’s nothing weird or illegal, just a pain reliever. ”
Her chest rose and fell fast, but she let him guide her arm back down. The needle slid in, adding the medication to the IV line, and within moments her breath shuddered out as the tension bled from her shoulders.
Thank fuck. Everything about me ached just looking at the pain she’s in.
The helicopter lurched, tilting toward descent, and Rowan braced his boot against the deck, keeping her steady as they landed at a covert airstrip on the outskirts of the Colombian countryside.
The chopper’s ramp lowered before the rotors had fully spooled down, and waiting on the tarmac was a sleek Gulfstream G550, its engines already whirring.
Rowan had no idea where the heck Rock and Grif got access to a private jet.
But damn, he wouldn’t mind having one of those in his own arsenal.
“Time to move,” Gael announced.
No shit, bro.
Enya’s grip on his hand tightened. “Where?”
“New ride. A plane. It’ll be quieter than this old bird, and maybe you’ll be able to sleep a bit,” Rowan said.
“It’s taking us back to the US.” He helped her to her feet.
She leaned on him heavily, her body language screaming exhaustion and distrust of everything from the ground beneath her feet to his men.
He kept himself between her and the rest of the team as they deplaned, a human shield against her fear of everything.
The guys understood, giving them space. They moved with a purpose that was both tactical and considerate as they handled the transfer of Maria’s body to the jet’s cargo hold.
On the plush leather seats of the jet, Enya curled into a ball with a blanket pulled up to her chin.
Rowan took the seat opposite, his knees almost touching hers.
The rest of the team settled in. Rowan barely noticed the familiar sounds of mags being unloaded and gear being stowed, filling the cabin until he noticed Enya flinch every time something banged, clanged, or scraped off something else.
“It’s just my men securing their gear.” He reassured her, but he wasn’t entirely sure she was with it enough to understand him.
The snark started to creep back in, low and cautious.
“Think Grif’s got real coffee, or is he on that mushroom shit, like Edge is?” Scout muttered, earning a light smack on the back of the head from Edge and a growl from Grif.
Rowan ignored them. His focus was on the woman across from him. Her eyes were closed, but the tight line of her jaw told him she wasn’t sleeping. Every muscle in her body was coiled, like she was ready to bolt at any second.
He knew he should be debriefing with Gael, planning their next move.
He should be thinking about the bills piling up at Stronghold, about the fact that this payday was enough to keep the ranch afloat for at least the next six months.
But all he could see was the raw terror in her eyes, the echo of the trauma he’d seen in his own twin.
The weight of the promise he’d given Camden Moore to bring her home settled on him, heavier than any ruck he’d ever carried.
Because while he was technically keeping his promise, he already knew life for the Moore family, and especially for the woman across from him, had changed forever.
Gael slid into the seat beside him. “We’ll be wheels down at Garrett Ranch in about four hours. They’ll have an ambulance standing by with a full medical team.”
Rowan nodded. “Good.”
“You did good, Ro. Getting her out.”
“We did good,” he corrected. There was no way he was allowing Gael to diminish what going back to that jungle meant to him. “How are you doing?”
“She trusts you.”
Okay then, we’re just going to ignore the question, are we?
Rowan made a mental note to talk to Joel and have him do a headspace check with Gael, then glanced at Enya.
“She trusts the guy her daddy sent. That’s all.
” He wasn’t fooling himself. Trust wasn’t something you earned in an hour.
It was built over time, or forged in some kind of shared hell.
Right now, he was just a tool, the tool who got her out of there and was bringing her home.
“TOC wants to know if we should put a call through to her folks,” Gael said quietly. “You wanna do it?”
He hesitated; they should make that call.
Correction, he should make that call because he was the commander and this was his op.
But the thought of talking to the man, of trying to explain the state his daughter was in, felt like a bridge too far.
He looked at Enya, at the way she flinched when one of the guys tossed a bottle of water to another, and decided that was one of those tasks Theo was always insisting he could delegate.
“No,” he said, the decision solidifying in his gut. “Have Theo make it. Tell him to confirm that she’s alive, she’s safe, and where we’re going. That’s all he needs to know right now. The details can wait.”
Gael studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. And when we land?”
“You’re taking the team home. Ask Garrett or Montgomery if you can take the jet back to Kentucky.”
Gael’s brows drew together. “And you?”
“I’m staying with her.”
“Rowan—”
“She can’t be alone, Gael, not yet.” He was about to remind Gael how he’d been when he’d come back from there, but bit back the words.
Now was not the time to remind him of that.
“I’m the only one she’ll let near her.” He hated how true it was.
He hated the responsibility of being her safe harbor.
But hating it wasn’t enough to stop him from being the one who would get her from point A to point B without her shattering.
“I’ll stay until her parents get there. Then I’ll find my own way back. ”
His brother thankfully didn’t argue. He just squeezed Rowan’s shoulder and got to his feet, “Okay then, if that’s what she needs, then that’s what you do.”
“Yeah.”
The flight passed in a state of suspended animation.
Rowan didn’t sleep like the others. Instead, he watched Enya, marking the slight easing of tension in her shoulders as the IV fluids did their work, relieved at how her breathing deepened into something resembling actual rest. He was a sentry on watch, and she was his entire sector of fire.
When they landed at the private airstrip on Matt Garrett’s Texas ranch, the setting sun was painting the sky in violent streaks of orange and purple.
The jet door opened to the familiar face of Garrett himself, his expression grim and professional, and he ducked his head and entered the plane.
“Good to see ya, Salieri. It’s been a while.” Matt’s gaze flicked from Rowan to Enya and back again. “Ambulance is here, they know the score.”
“Good to see you too, Garrett.” Rowan shook the former Delta Force Team Panther’s hand.
Having been a POW before his discharge from the army, if there was anyone besides Gael who understood how Enya was feeling right now, it was most likely Matt Garrett.
Rowan was about to touch Enya to wake her, then figured that might not be the best thing to do.
“Enya? We’re here.”
She jerked awake at the sound of her name but didn’t say anything.
“We’re back home.” Rowan continued, “It’s time to get you to the hospital.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Matt shepherd the other men out of her line of sight.
Thank fuck for that, because I have a feeling that she’s gonna balk about getting in the ambulance, never mind having people she doesn’t know touching her.
He urged her ahead of him toward the door and silently cursed when her whole body went rigid again when she spotted the ambulance with its lights off, waiting next to the runway.
Shit.
“Easy, Enya. I’ll be with you the whole way,” he promised. “You don’t need to do this on your own.”
He had to practically carry her down the steps and into the back of the ambulance. The paramedic, a woman with calm eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, took one look at them and backed off, letting Rowan help Enya onto the gurney.
Once she was situated, he sat on the bench, his big frame taking up most of the space, as the medic efficiently and quietly took vitals, her movements careful and deliberate. He watched Enya watch him, her gaze never leaving his face.
Enya flinched as if struck. Her face contorted, lips peeling back from her teeth in something between a snarl and a sob. “I can’t—I can’t— Don’t touch me.”
Rowan blinked at the terror in her voice and followed her line of sight to where a second EMT paused midway into the ambulance.
“Back off a minute, dude.” He leaned toward Enya, blocking the EMT from view. “He’s not going to hurt you, I promise.”
“He—I—” Her chest heaved, her entire body vibrating with the effort of holding herself together. The stretcher creaked under the force of her struggle. “I just—I can’t—”
His palm cupped her neck before he could second-guess it.
Her skin was fever-hot, her pulse a frantic rabbit’s kick beneath his fingers.
“Easy,” his voice didn’t even sound like his own, unless you counted when he worked with the yearlings.
“He’s going to go sit up front, ’kay?” His gaze flicked to the male EMT, silently daring him to have an issue with it.
“Sir.” The female EMT cleared her throat. “We have to have two EMTs in the bus at all times…”
“Ma’am, unless you want her to lose her damn mind before we make it to the ER, you are just gonna have to make an exception this once.”
If they don’t allow it. I’m going to have to borrow a truck from Garrett and drive her there myself.
The medics exchanged glances, clearly having an unspoken conversation, before the male nodded and slammed the doors shut.
The engine growled to life beneath them, the vibration humming up through the soles of Rowan’s boots.
Enya didn’t relax; if anything, her body coiled tighter.
Her muscles were wound so tight he could see the tendons standing out in her neck.
But her eyes stayed fixed on him, wide and wild, like he was her anchor in the storm of her life.
The ambulance lurched forward, and a couple of minutes later, the tires rumbled over the Texas gates, telling him they had pulled onto the access road.
Rowan kept his hand on her wrist, his thumb brushing over the frantic beat of her pulse, and for the first time in years, he ignored every rule he’d ever lived by and let himself care more about a hostage than he should have.
I dare anyone to wear the boots I do and to stand by and allow her to deal with this alone.
Once they arrived at the hospital, the ambulance doors swung open and Rowan’s eyes widened as he recognized the man standing behind the team waiting to unload their patient.
Camden Moore looked ten years older than he had at Stronghold.
His face was a mask of emotions, but Rowan recognized both anguish and hope.
Behind him, a woman with Enya’s eyes sagged against his arm, her hand covering her mouth as a sob escaped when she spotted her daughter in the ambulance.
Enya whispered a single broken word, “Daddy?”
Camden stumbled into the ambulance, his knees nearly buckling. He didn’t reach for her. He just stood there, with a single tear trailing down his face. “Baby girl,” he choked out. “Oh, God, Enya.”
Rowan stood up, melting back into the corner of the ambulance to give them space.
This was their moment. He was just the delivery guy.
He’d done his job. He watched as Enya’s mother climbed in, her face streaked with tears, and finally, Enya’s composure broke.
Her own sobs began, silent and shaking at first, then wracking her entire body.
Camden finally moved, sinking to his knees beside the gurney. He took his daughter’s hand, the one Rowan wasn’t holding. Rowan hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. He slowly, carefully, let go.
He was an intruder here, a witness to a grief and reunion so profound, even his war-hardened heart fluttered with some kind of emotion.
He looked away, his gaze falling on the organized sterility of the ambulance, anything to avoid the raw, powerful feelings flooding the small space.
His mission was over, his package delivered safely to her family.
It was time to get his ass home where it belonged…
Stronghold Ranch, with his men and his horses.
But as he looked at the broken family clinging to one another, he felt a strange, unwelcome ache in his own chest. He had saved her, yes.
He had kept his promise. But what came next?
For her? For them? He had no fucking idea.
He was an Operator. He knew how to break things and how to kill people.
He didn’t know the first thing about how to put anyone back together again.