Chapter 28
Lark woke slowly. Something warm brushed her forehead. Then her temple. Then the corner of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered open. Cormac.
He was watching her with an expression that made her heart stumble. “Morning,” he murmured.
“Is it? Morning? I have no idea what time or even what day it is.”
The vibrations of his chuckle resonate through her, a sensation that traveled from her chest and extends all the way to her toes. She shivered, and he kissed her again. This time, just beside her lips.
Lark’s breath caught. “Cormac...”
“What?”
“You know you’re supposed to be resting.”
“I am.”
“You’re kissing me.”
“That can be done while resting.”
She laughed softly. Then he kissed her properly. It was slower than their first kiss, probably because his shoulder wouldn’t allow anything else. But somehow that made it worse. Better. More intimate.
His hand slid carefully around her waist. Lark settled closer, mindful of his injury. His mouth moved against hers, warm and unhurried, and every nerve in her body seemed to wake up at once.
She touched his cheek. His beard scratched pleasantly against her palm. When he pulled back, his blue eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured.
“You knew that.”
“Yeah.” He kissed her again. “And apparently, I like trouble.”
Lark smiled against his mouth. Then he suddenly stopped. His head turned. “Wait.”
She listened. At first, she heard nothing but rain. Then—
Engines.
Lark sat up. “Cormac?” He was already trying to move. She scrambled to her feet. “Who is it?”
“Don’t know.” The relaxed warmth vanished from his face. Military instincts took over, and he pointed to the far side of the room. “Kitchen. Corner.” She obeyed, crouching near the cabinets.
With his knife gripped in his good hand, Cormac tried to sit higher, but pain flashed across his face. He couldn’t move quickly. Couldn’t fight. If the men from the island had found them, they were in trouble.
Lark’s heart pounded. Neither of them relaxed until Cormac’s phone pinged. He glanced down, and the tension drained from his shoulders. “My team.”
A few seconds later, voices sounded outside. The cabin door opened. “Hoot!” A broad-shouldered man entered first, followed by several others.
“Well, look at this,” another voice said. “Hoot takes an unexpected vacation and doesn’t even invite us.”
Cormac groaned. “Shut up, Eggs.”
The man laughed. “What? If you wanted some alone time with your girl, I’m sure Flint would’ve given you leave.”
“Fuck you,” Cormac uttered, the words lacking any genuine malice.
As the men entered the cabin, Spark immediately went to Hoot, placing a hefty bag by the couch and then rummaging through it. Evidently, he was the team’s medic. He immediately went to work.
Within minutes, Cormac had been examined, his wound cleaned and dressed properly, pain medication administered, and an IV started.
“You’re lucky,” Spark told him.
“Feel lucky.”
“You’re alive.”
“Still working on that.”
Eventually, they prepared to move him. Two men brought in a flat rescue board. Cormac looked offended. “Absolutely not.”
Spark raised an eyebrow. “You’re not walking.”
“I can walk.”
“You can barely sit upright.”
“I’ve walked with worse.”
An older man stepped forward. Lark hadn’t met him yet. He was clearly the leader, and they addressed him as Flint.
“Get over it, Hoot.”
Cormac glared. Flint didn’t blink. Cormac sighed. “Fine.”
The team carefully transferred him onto the board. Once he was secure, Cormac’s attention immediately shifted to Lark. “Her.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
Spark looked at him. “She says she’s fine.”
“She’s not.” Lark opened her mouth to retort, but Cormac’s finger shot out, silencing her. “Her wrists.”
Spark glanced at the cuts. Then at Cormac. Lark glared at the pair, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re ordering medical treatment for me while you’re the one with a gunshot wound?”
“Yes.”
She rolled her eyes, something she seemed to do a lot around him. “Whatever, stubborn man.”
Spark shook his head. “Hopeless.” Then he cleaned Lark’s wrists and the cuts along her arms and legs from the river with careful efficiency. He applied an antibiotic cream and wrapped the worst injuries.
Then someone handed her a bakery bag. “Eat. Marilyn sent it.” Inside were her favorite muffins and cookies. Lark devoured the first one in no time. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.
“Slow down,” Cormac murmured, chowing down on his own muffins.
She looked at him. “There is no slow when it comes to Aunt Marilyn’s muffins.”
His mouth curved. “There she is.”
“I’ve been here the whole time,” she quipped.
“Since I’ve been out for most of our two days here, I wouldn’t know.”
That’s when Lark realized the horrifying truth. Two days. It had been two days since she’d gone to the island. Two days since she’d been captured. She had no idea how much time had gone by.
While grappling with that reality, she listened as Cormac explained everything he’d learned.
His precise descriptions of the men left her in awe.
The details that he was able to recall of the whole incident, including the count of how many crates he’d seen, were equally as impressive.
He had observed things that even she, who’d been there longer, had overlooked.
Flint listened while typing rapidly on his phone.
“They’re still out there,” Cormac said.
“I know.” Flint looked up. “Jeeves. Voodoo. Eggs. Take the eastern perimeter.” The three men immediately headed back into the storm. No complaints. No hesitation.
Lark watched them disappear. These men were insane. And somehow, that was reassuring.
Once Cormac was loaded into an SUV, the team began the trip toward civilization.
“I’ll need to find the boats,” Hoot mused as Spark drove and Flint continued to type on his phone.
“They’ve been handled.”
“Mine and Lark’s?”
“Both.” Cormac relaxed slightly. Then he looked at Flint. “Should probably call Marilyn.” Lark’s heart squeezed. She hadn’t even thought about her aunt.
“She’s meeting us at the hospital,” Flint replied, surprising Lark. She couldn’t thank him enough for thinking of her like that.
Lark’s eyes filled. Cormac noticed immediately. He reached for her hand. She gave it to him. He lifted it carefully and kissed the back of her fingers. “It’s going to be okay.”
Flint glanced toward the back seat. “Oh, hell. Another one bites the dust.”
Lark laughed through her tears. Flint shook his head. “Pretty soon I’ll have to start running a couples’ retreat instead of a security company.”
Cormac flipped him off. Flint grinned. “Yep. Definitely recovering.”
The hospital was chaos. Lark was separated from Cormac almost immediately. She hated it. But Spark stayed with her. Then Marilyn arrived with a change of clothes. She nearly crushed Lark in a hug before shooing her off to get cleaned up.
Cammie and Savannah came soon after, bringing more reassurance and enough conversation to keep Lark from completely falling apart.
But worry kept creeping back in. What if she’d damaged Cormac’s shoulder?
What if she’d pulled the bullet out incorrectly?
What if she’d harmed something important?
His career depended on his body. His shoulder.
His ability to move and fight. To protect people.
She’d been desperate. She’d done what she thought she had to do. But what if she’d made things worse?
“Lark.” Marilyn’s voice pulled her back.
“I’m fine.”
“No, sweetheart. You’re spiraling.”
Lark swallowed. “I might have ruined his shoulder.”
Spark shook his head. “You didn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I treated him, remember.”
Lark stared at him. “And?”
“You’re lucky. The bullet didn’t strike any of the critical parts. You probably saved him from infection.”
Her eyes filled. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
Hours ticked by slowly. Finally, a doctor came through the doors. “Cormac Shibley’s family?”
Lark stood. “Yes.”
“He’s going to be fine. There’s no major nerve or vascular damage. With rest and a few weeks of physical therapy, we expect a full recovery.”
Lark nearly collapsed with relief. “Can I see him?”
“Briefly. He’s going to stay overnight.”
She nodded. When she entered his room, he was asleep. For the first time since the island, he looked peaceful.
Lark pulled a chair up beside the bed. She took his hand.
His fingers curled weakly around hers, even in sleep.
She rested her head against the edge of the mattress near his hip.
She meant to stay awake. She really did.
But exhaustion finally won. Her eyes closed.
And with Cormac’s hand wrapped securely around hers, Lark slipped into sleep.