20. Reyna
CHAPTER 20
With how late it is, Caleb said traveling to the truck he keeps parked on the other side of the swamp would be far more dangerous than waiting until morning. But he says he’ll drive us to the nearest town so we can call for help then.
Knowing that we’ll be on our way home soon is more of a relief than I can even put into words. Especially since Michael’s fever is getting worse, his complexion far paler than it should be. I gently dab the washcloth on his forehead, and he groans.
I’ve cleaned the blood from his bare chest, trying my hardest not to focus on all the scarring I hadn’t noticed before. Multiple scars from bullet holes mar his muscled torso, and my heart aches for the pain he must have suffered when he’d been deployed.
How many times did he nearly die?
How many nights did he fall asleep and not know if he was going to wake up tomorrow?
And then I remember the letters, and how absolutely hopeless he felt for a good portion of his deployment. My heart aches for him, yearning for the man who felt so unsupported that he ran off to join the service, leaving everything he’d ever known behind.
My gaze rakes over the deep purple bruising all along his ribcage and chest, compliments of the accident, as he tries to suck in breath after breath. He’s struggling to breathe.
Is he going to make it?
Please God let him make it.
“Here.” Caleb offers me a bowl of stew, and I take it, my stomach growling.
“Thank you.”
“I can make a bowl for him if you’d like.”
Michael groans.
“I don’t know that he should eat anything yet,” I reply, then take a bite and nearly groan myself. Though mine is out of pleasure at the delicious food rather than pain. “This is amazing.”
“My late wife’s recipe,” he replies proudly, then takes a seat at the small round table that serves as his dining room.
“How long have you lived out here?” I ask, genuinely curious as to why he’s out here in the middle of a swamp.
“Who says I live here?” He grins. “About eight years now, I suppose. Ever since my wife—” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, it still hurts to talk about it.”
“I can understand that.”
“When she passed away, I didn’t see any reason to stick around. So I quit my job and moved out here. I’ve been here ever since, aside from the occasional trip to town.”
“Why out here?” When he doesn’t immediately answer, I add, “I’m sorry. I’m being nosy, and it’s rude.”
“No.” He waves his hand, dismissing me. “Not rude. It’s been a long time since I had a pleasant conversation.” He eats a bite of stew. “I wanted to be away from people. It was like everywhere I turned, there were memories that gutted me. A scab ripped open every time someone asked me a question that brought her up. So I started driving, then parked and went for a walk out here. After that, I built this place, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” He smiles tightly, but I can see the pain on his face. It breaks my heart. “What led to you two being out here? I know you said you were kidnapped, but from where? You seemed surprised to find yourself in Florida.”
“Boston.”
He whistles. “That’s a long way to go.”
“We were in an accident and they drugged us. Brought us out here.”
He gestures to the tattered gown I’m still wearing. “Somewhere fancy?”
“We were at a charity banquet,” I tell him. “Benefitting a women and children’s shelter.”
“Any idea who grabbed you? Or why?”
“None that make any sense,” I reply truthfully. The idea that they think my brother had anything to do with this—I don’t understand it. Carter has always followed the rules. I don’t think he’s ever broken one in his entire life. In fact, he loves the law so much, he’d already known that he wanted to be a lawyer by the time he was ten.
So what did he get wrapped up in?
“Well, I can get you to town tomorrow. We’ll make sure he gets seen by a doctor, then find a way to get you the rest of the way back.”
“His team will be looking for us,” I tell him. “With any luck, they’ll already be in Florida.”
“Team?”
“He’s private security,” I say. “I hired him after I was attacked.”
“You’ve had a rough go of it recently.”
“Understatement.” I start eating again, my gaze leveling on Michael.
I study his face in the dim light cast by the lanterns on the wall. He’s so handsome. So ruggedly beautiful that it hurts my heart. He could have died today. He still could die if this fever continues to take root.
What will I do then? How will I survive in a world without Michael Anderson?
The image of him jumping out of his truck as I was being attacked in the school parking lot swims into my memory, and fresh tears spring to my eyes. Why couldn’t he have loved me enough not to leave in the first place?
“Coffee?” Caleb pulls me from thoughts of the past, so I refocus on the present. “I imagine you won’t be getting much sleep tonight.”
“You’d be right,” I reply with a laugh. “And that would be great, thanks.”
He gets to his feet and starts prepping a pour-over container. Then he scoops some water into a Dutch oven and hangs it over the fire. After adding some wood to it, he takes a seat at the table and opens a book that sits on top.
“What are you reading?” I whisper.
“The Word,” he replies with a friendly smile, keeping his hand in the pages as he shows me the front of his Bible. It’s aged, worn down by years of use, but it’s still one of the most beautiful books I’ve ever seen. “You a follower?” he asks.
“‘I amthe wayand the truthand the life.No one comes to the Father except through me,’” I tell him with a smile.
“John 4:6.” He nods appreciatively.
“Yes, sir.” I smile.
“It was hard for me to find meaning in her death after my Sydney passed. But once I started reading her old Bible, I knew there was a reason. Still haven’t figured it out yet, but I believe in God’s plan.” He smiles up at me as he lovingly strokes the cover. “It’s hard, sometimes, to praise Him from the furnace.”
I glance down at Michael. I didn’t lose him in the way Caleb lost his Sydney, but I still struggled to understand why God let him leave me. Why didn’t He stop Michael from walking out the door? Free will is a piece of it, sure, and I always understood that. But it hurt me when he left. And that hurt made it impossible to see it from Michael’s—or even God’s—perspective. What good could come from Michael becoming a soldier?
My thoughts turn to that moment in the warehouse. To the desire I’d had to pull his face down and kiss his lips one final time. Taste the passion we’ve always shared once more before we faced what could have very well been our death.
It’s good I didn’t—or that’s what I’m going to continue telling myself. Maybe someday I’ll believe it.
“I couldn’t agree with you more, Caleb.”
He follows my gaze. “You two are something special. I can see it in his eyes. The way he looks at you, and the way you watch him.”
“We were something special,” I reply. “A long time ago.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I face him again and offer a half smile. “He made a choice that took him away from me, and he did it without ever telling me why.”
“Sometimes men do stupid stuff,” Caleb replies with a chuckle. “I bet he figures it out soon. Just how foolish it was to let you go. Women like you and my Sydney don’t come along every day,” he replies with a wink.
“Thanks, Caleb,” I reply, though I don’t tell Caleb that Michael already did figure it out. He’s been trying to get me back since he returned home. I’m just not sure my heart could take being broken again, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to find out.
Not even for him.
At some point, I dozed off because Caleb shakes me awake and presses his finger to his lips. He points outside and shoves a pistol into my hand. “Someone’s out there,” he leans in and whispers. “Stay here, shoot anyone but me who comes through that door.”
“Caleb—”
“I’ve got you, girl,” he says softly, then pats my shoulder.
I check Michael’s breathing, noting that it’s more shallow now than it was before I dozed off. Please, God. This is too much. I can’t take any more.
Tears fill my eyes, but I wipe them away and stand, keeping the gun at the ready as Caleb creeps to the door. He keeps his back against the wall and offers me a nod before reaching for the handle. With a deep breath, he opens it.
Men dressed in black file in. One knocks the shotgun from Caleb’s hand and pins him to the wall, while three others fill the cabin. They scan the room, and thankfully, I hesitate to fire long enough to realize that I recognize the man in front, though his face is smeared with black.
“Lance?”
“Reyna.”
“Let Caleb go, he’s the only reason we’re alive.”
Jaxson quickly releases him, and Caleb smooths the front of his shirt.
“This the team you were telling me about?”
“It is,” I reply.
Lance’s gaze drops to Michael, and his expression darkens. “Is he?—”
“I got him.” The only woman in the group rushes over, her near-black hair tied up on top of her head. She’s slender and swings a backpack from her shoulders before kneeling at Michael’s side.
Lance grips my shoulder, and I look up at him. “That’s Bianca Theodore. She’s the best field trauma surgeon there is.”
“Thanks, but boosting my ego isn’t going to get you out of paying me,” Bianca jokes as she continues her exam on Michael. She gently peels back the gauze, then glances back at me. “You do this?”
“He did,” I say, pointing to Caleb. If she insults him, I might?—
“Great work,” she tells Caleb. “I might actually not be the best.” She winks at me and my appreciation for her grows at the kindness she showed the older man.
Lance crosses over and offers Caleb his hand. “I’m Lance Knight. This is my team. Elijah Breeth, Jaxson Payne, Bianca Theodore, and Silas Williamson.” He points to the fourth man in the room, who has been silently standing beside the door the entire time.
Now, he glances over and offers me a curt nod.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” Bianca says. “I can give him some fluids now, but they’re not going to do anything without a strong antibiotic.”
“The airport is forty minutes once we reach the edge of the swamp,” Elijah says. “Then it’s three and a half hours of flight time, and another twenty to the hospital back home.”
“You have a plane?”
“We do,” Bianca replies. “And if we can get him there, I can get an antibiotic administered and hopefully stop this infection from getting any worse.”
“How did you even find us?” I ask.
“Managed to ping the location prior to your phone dying. Once we got here, Silas took over. Guy could track a fish through the ocean.”
Silas grunts in response, but doesn’t say anything.
“We need to get moving,” Lance says.
“They said they would be waiting for us on the other side,” I tell them. “What if they’re there now?”
“Reyna, we will get you home,” Lance says softly. “I promise.”
“I can lead you out of the swamps,” Caleb offers. “I know them like the back of my hand. With all of us, we should be able to get out without too much trouble. I just didn’t want to risk moving him by myself.”
“Understood. And if you could lead us out, that would be great.” Lance reaches into a tactical pocket on his sleeve and withdraws his cell. After firing off a quick text, he sticks it back inside and turns to Bianca. “He good to travel?”
“As good as he’ll ever be. The sooner we can get him to the plane, the better.”
“Then let’s get moving.”
Caleb grabs a backpack and sticks his Bible inside, then slings the bag over his shoulders, retrieves a lantern and his shotgun, and stands by the door.
“I can carry you,” Silas offers, gesturing to my feet.
I start to refuse, insist that I walk, but then I actually push to my feet and feel the ache shoot straight up through my body. “If it won’t be too much trouble?”
He doesn’t answer, just scoops me up as Lance and Elijah lift Michael from the bed, keeping him draped between the two of them.
He grunts, but remains unconscious, and my heart sinks. Is he going to make it? What if the moving is too much?
“I’ve seen him survive much worse,” Bianca tells me with a tight smile. “He’ll pull through.”
Dear God, please let her be right. Don’t let us have come this far to fail now.