16. Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Pony
Once we meet up with the rest of the team, I pry Remi’s fingers from my belt but don’t let go of her hand. “You did really well, Remi.” Considering the condition she’s in, she did much better than I expected.
We’re on the ground floor of the old building.
Ancient, rusted equipment, large tables, trash, and other remnants of its previous life are scattered around.
Most of one wall is gone, like it had been blown out, and while Hawk and I made our way to the team after rescuing Remi, one of the guys had backed our van inside to hide it from view.
Hawk joins Nitro, and the two of them stand guard on either side of the missing wall.
I lead Remi a short distance before stopping. “I’m going to set you on a table, okay?”
As soon as she nods, I place my hands on her waist and carefully lift her. Once she’s seated, I wrap her hand around a bottle of water, not letting go until I’m sure she has a good grip on it.
“Water. It’s already open,” I tell her.
One of her eyes is so swollen it scarcely opens. The way she’s squinting and blinking tells me her eyesight still isn’t a hundred percent and the light hurts her.
She gulps down the water until I stop her with a hand on her forearm. “Drink it slow or it’ll make you sick.”
“How’s she doing, Pony?”
Hearing him, Remi swings her head toward Warlock’s voice.
Every exposed part of her is a roadmap of abuse. I’ve been livid since the moment I got a look at the state she’s in. In her condition, I’m not sure she would’ve survived much longer.
“Cuts and bruises. Beat to shit.” I can’t keep the anger out of my voice, “She’s got a broken arm, broken or bruised ribs. She was hooded, so her vision is blurred, but that should clear up eventually.”
“Pony?” Remi asks, a ghost of a smile tipping the corners of her swollen lips.
“Shit, I guess we haven’t had time to introduce ourselves,” Warlock says. “I’m Warlock. You’ve already met Pony and Hawk. Ricochet, Nitro, and Doc are also here.”
“I assume those aren’t your real names. Undercover SEAL names?” Her voice is rough and scratchy.
“They’re our handles. Nicknames,” I tell her.
“I’m Remington. Remington James. Most people call me RJ.”
Remington James. We never exchanged last names, and she failed to mention that most people call her RJ. Another red flag I missed? Another clue that she wasn’t as interested as I was?
Doc steps closer. “Hey, RJ, I’m Doc.” He’s using his soothing voice to put her at ease. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m okay,” she tells him, even if it’s obvious she’s lying.
“Doc’s our medic,” I inform her. “He’ll look you over and then we’ll get out of here.”
“Make it quick, Doc.” Warlock moves to stand near the van, and I can tell he’s on his comms talking to command.
Doc asks her about her symptoms while he examines her. She replies honestly until he asks, “What’s your pain level?”
“On a scale of one to ten? It’s about ninety-seven.
My entire body hurts. My arm’s the worst of it.
My eyes feel like I’m wearing someone else’s glasses.
I can keep the one good eye open a little and see color and blobby shapes now, but everything’s blurry and too bright.
Still, all things considered I’m a whole lot better than I was. ”
“She’s brave as hell,” I tell him.
“Let’s see if we can take care of that arm. I can’t set it, but I can stabilize it and try to make it a little less uncomfortable.” Doc pulls an Ace bandage out of his pack and wraps it around her shoulder, waist, and left arm, securing the broken limb snugly to her chest.
I almost tell him to stop. I can see the process is hurting her, and the last thing she should have to suffer through is more pain.
But when Doc’s finished, she releases a relieved sigh. “It’s still beating with a painful thump, but I can relax it now that I don’t have to hold it in place against my side. It makes a world of difference. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Doc tells her. “I’m glad it helps.”
“Got another bottle of water for you, RJ.”
“Thank you, voice I don’t recognize,” she responds.
He chuckles as he places the bottle in her hand. “I’m Ricochet.”
“Thank you, Ricochet.”
“You’re welcome. Let us know if you need more.”
Her clothes—pajama bottoms and a t-shirt—tell me she was taken late at night or while she was sleeping. She’s also barefoot. The thought of her privacy being violated and being dragged out of bed pisses me off all over again.
I slip off my pack and pull out a thick pair of socks. Squatting between her legs, I pick up her foot. “I don’t have any shoes for you, but these should help protect your feet, at least a little.”
When I stand, I’m between her knees and she drops her head against my chest.
I can’t help myself, I wrap my arms around her. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you, Remi.”
She sniffles, nodding against me.
“Good copy,” Warlock says, turning to the rest of us. “We’ve got two unknown vehicles inbound. Everyone into the Scooby van, we need to move.”