Chapter 23 #3
He didn't answer right away, and I thought maybe he'd shut down again. But he scraped his hand down his beard and said, "There are four of us. I'm the oldest."
I waited, giving him time. Concentrating on not passing out. My throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. Each breath was like inhaling fire.
"Cassidy's next. We're only eleven months apart."
"Whoa, your mom had her hands full." I winced. "Sorry, I shouldn't have?—"
"It's okay. And yeah, she did. Especially with Cass.
She's a wildcat. Tough as nails, sharp tongue, doesn't take shit from anyone.
She can outride most of the blokes we hire, and she's got this weird sixth sense with animals.
She knows when something's wrong before anyone else does.
" He paused. "But she doesn't let people in easily. "
"Sounds like someone I know," I said pointedly, though my voice was getting weaker.
He cocked his head, scowling. "Declan's the middle one.
He's the brains in the family. He tried to run off to a circus once, but he came back.
Seems we always come back." He shook his head.
"Dec runs Koolaroo's books and keeps the whole operation from falling apart financially. He’s the heart of the family, too, whether he'll admit it or not. "
"Every business needs someone willing to crunch the numbers." My vision swam, and I blinked hard, trying to clear it.
Mitch nodded. "Yeah, thank Christ he does. That shit isn't for me."
"Me neither. I can't even figure out my bank statement."
He laughed, as if I was exaggerating. I wasn't.
"And your youngest brother?" I prompted, forcing the words out.
"Kayden. He's the rebel. If there's chaos happening, he's either in the middle of it or he caused it." There was affection in his voice despite the words. "He manages all the equipment, though. Kayden's a mechanic, chopper pilot, and cattle wrangler. Jack of all trades and regular trouble magnet."
"Huh. Sounds like me." Did I slur my words?
Mitch looked at me, really looked at me, as if trying to solve a puzzle. Or maybe I was slurring my words. "What?"
He shook his head.
"You trying to figure me out, cowboy?" The world tilted slightly, and I shook my head, trying to clear the fog in my brain.
"Nope." The way he said it told me he absolutely was. Well, good luck to him. I'd been trying to do that for years.
Keen to keep the conversation going and stay focused, I asked, "Wait—chopper pilot? You have a helicopter?"
"Yep. Need it with over four thousand square miles of land."
Four thousand square miles. The number swooped through my brain, and my earlier question resurfaced through my fog. What exactly had Mitch been doing when he found my dig site? Because "checking fences" was bullshit.
"So, Mitch," I said, my tongue thick and clumsy in my dry mouth. "You never did answer what you were doing when you found our dig site. I mean, we were miles from anywhere. How did you find us?"
He groaned. Clearly, it was a question he didn't want to answer. "Checking the fences," he said.
I glared at him, letting him know I knew he was lying. "Our dig site wasn't near any fences."
He didn't reply.
What the hell! And here I thought we were actually getting somewhere.
He scanned the terrain with that same alert efficiency I'd noticed before.
Everything about him felt trained. The way he moved, the way he deflected questions, even the way he'd assessed my injuries.
I cleared my throat, and he seemed to brace for another question he didn't want to answer. "Were you in the military?"
His jaw dropped.
I nodded, reading his expression. "Yeah, thought so."
He frowned but shrugged, maybe figuring there was no point denying it. "Sergeant First Class with the Special Air Service. I served for over a decade."
"Huh." A rock stabbed my instep, and I gasped. Shit, that hurt. "But now, you're a cowboy," I said, my tongue was as thick as leather.
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Something like that."
"That's quite a career change." My legs were made of lead.
"Life's full of surprises."
"Clearly." I forced myself to keep talking, but forming words was getting harder. Anything to stay upright. "What made you leave?"
"That's a long story."
I spread my hands wide, and the movement made me sway. "We've got plenty of?—"
The world tilted. My eyes spun out of focus. My knees gave way, and I crumpled.
Mitch shouted my name, and his arms caught me before I hit the dirt.
"Charlie!" His voice cut through the fog. "Charlie, stay with me."
I tried to respond, but my mouth wouldn't work. Everything was spinning, tilting, fading.
"Shit!" His cry sounded far away, muffled, like I was underwater.
He lifted me into his arms and cradled me against his chest.
I wanted to tell him I was fine, but darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. I was a long way from fine.
"I've got you." His grip tightened. "Just hold on." I heard the low, rough edge of his voice.
But I couldn't hold on. My vision tunneled to a pinpoint of light.
"You're going to be okay." The uncertainty in his voice terrified me.
I wasn't okay. Nothing was.
Oh, God. Am I going to die?