Since We Fell

by Ann Gimpel

  “I’ll bring the Land Rover,” the pilot said. Dropping to his belly, he started out of the thicket.

  “Doug.” Katie struggled against Brice’s hold on her. “Got to call Doug.”

  “We’ll let him know we found you,” Julie reassured her. Her blue eyes glistened with tears that spilled down her cheeks. She brushed them away.

  Brice offered water again. Katie drank and sagged against him. “Thought I was a goner. I saw one cobra, but when I was avoiding it, another one got me.” She flexed her feet and groaned.

  “We’ll get you home and to a hospital,” Julie said.

  Katie transferred her gaze to where Julie knelt. “Aw geez. You’re crying. It’s okay.”

  Julie shook her head. “No. It’s not.” She gripped Katie’s hand. “Orestes Conom will pay for what he did, and we’re going to salvage your dissertation project.”

  Katie nodded, tears sheening her eyes too. “Most important is you found me, saved me. I get to go home to Doug. Everything else can wait. I did a number on my feet. Bet I won’t be able to walk for a month. And I won’t do Boston this year.”

  “You’re a marathoner?” Brice asked. At her nod, he said, “Me too. At least I used to be. You’ll run again, and sooner than you might think. Your wounds are superficial.”

  At least the ones to her body were. How quickly her spirit would rebound from being abducted and tortured depended on her, but Brice had a feeling Katie Johnson wouldn’t let the horror she’d lived through slow her down.

  The sound of an engine grew louder.

  The Land Rover.

  He took one more set of vitals. They were moving in the right direction. “Do you have any idea how long ago the snake bit you?”

  Katie narrowed her eyes and glanced at the angle of the sun. “Maybe an hour. Maybe a little less. I was headed for this thicket when it got me. I planned to tourniquet my leg, but I must have passed out.”

  “Why the thicket?” Brice asked.

  “Dig site was cordoned off. I had no idea why, but it didn’t feel safe. Thickets like this one have provided protection for thousands of years. This type of plant has water in its root system. Figured I could go to ground here, rest my feet. I’d almost made it when the snake came out of the blue.”

  “We can talk in the truck,” Chris said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Drink the rest of this.” Brice waggled the water bottle, and Katie finished its contents.

  “Can you crawl?” Julie asked.

  “I think so. It’s better than you dragging me.”

  “What do you think?” Julie asked Brice.

  He grinned and dropped things back into his duffle. “Absent a machete to carve a path, it’s a grand idea. If Katie bogs down, we’ll help.”

  Relief he’d gotten the antivenom on board in time thrummed through him. Cobra venom was a neurotoxin that caused respiratory paralysis, which was why she’d been unconscious when they found her. He helped her roll onto her stomach, and she slithered toward the path leading out of the thicket with Julie right behind her.

  Brice zipped his duffle back together.

  Chris crouched next to him. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “How close was it?”

  Brice met the other man’s unwavering gaze. “Close. Another half hour, we’d probably have had a different outcome.”

  Chris scrubbed the heels of his hands down his face. “Thank Christ I had the thermal scanner. Almost didn’t bring it.”

  “Yeah. Julie would have headed back toward the bunker, which is the route I’d have selected too.”

  “Makes a hell of a lot more sense than this no-man’s-land.” Chris’s voice was laced with relief. He shook his head. “Damn. Julie was so smart, she could have done anything. Why in God’s name she picked a profession where she ends up stuck in spots like this is beyond me.”

  Brice didn’t bother to point out both Chris and Ariel’s life’s work had landed them in similarly primitive, godforsaken locations.

  He held out a hand. Chris shook it. “We had a good outcome. I’ve found it’s best not to dwell on the might-have-beens,” Brice murmured.

  “One of my favorite take-home messages as well.” Chris’s weathered face split into a smile. “So will I finally end up with you as my son-in-law?”

  “Hope so, sir. We’ll see.” Brice crawled out of the thicket, pushing his bag ahead of him.

  Katie sat in the back of the Land Rover with Julie’s arm firmly around her while she talked on one of the burner cell phones. She was crying, so presumably, she’d called her husband.

  “It’ll be a bumpy ride until we reach better roads,” Chris said, “but we’ll manage.” He transferred his attention to the pilot. “Is our bird refueled and ready?”

  “Indeed, it is.”

  Brice tossed his bag in the back and slid in next to Katie, sandwiching her between him and Juliana. Chris got into the front and laid one of the rifles across his lap. The other one was wedged between him and the pilot.

  “I told the watchdog guarding the dig site we’d found Ms. Johnson,” the pilot said. “I swear, he was as delighted as if I’d told him Allah was primed for a second coming.”

  Chris slugged him in the arm. “You old fucker. Your lack of political correctness never fails to stagger me.”

  The pilot slugged him back. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” He turned the key and guided the Land Rover back toward the dig site. No roads meant a lot of twists and turns to avoid vegetation and holes.

  “Doug wants to know where he can meet me,” Katie spoke up.

  Chris twisted, extending a hand for the phone.

  “I have to go, love. A man wants to talk with you. I’m sorry, but I don’t know who he is.”

  “He’ll remember me,” Chris said. “We’ve spoken before.”

  Katie gave him the phone and glanced at Julie. “Who are they?” She tilted her chin toward the front seat.

  “The man in the passenger seat is my dad.”

  Katie’s mouth rounded into an oh. “He’s like a bigwig in the Marines, right?”

  “Used to be. He retired.”

  Chris shot her an exasperated look, probably because of the “used to be” comment, and bent over the phone. “Mr. Johnson, it’s Chris Wray. You cannot ask how we managed it, but we have your wife. We’ll be flying her home.”

  He hesitated, listening to Doug, and then replied. “No. You can’t meet the plane. We have an MD with us. He’ll escort your wife to a hospital to make certain she’s stable.”

  “Tell him, I’ll call him as soon as I can,” Brice said. Assuming Katie didn’t decompensate between here and the States, he’d transport her to the hospital closest to her home. If he told Doug that, though, the man would probably camp out in the visitor’s lounge.

  After Chris disconnected, Brice turned to Katie. “Which part of town do you live in?”

  “Queen Anne.”

  “Any preference on hospitals?”

  She shrugged. “Swedish or maybe Virginia Mason. I’m actually feeling better. Not sure I even need a hospital.”

  Brice nodded, not wanting to argue with her but unwilling to turn her loose without lab work. “We’ll figure it out once we’re closer. I have privileges both places.”

  The Egyptian guarding the dig site waved them down when they got close and ran to the Land Rover with a shiny hardcover book and a pen. He handed both to Juliana, who opened the book and signed her name and the month and year.

  “Thank you, Dr. Wray.” The man bowed and took her book back.

  “Thank you. It’s wonderful to know people are still reading it.”

  Brice caught the title. The Sign and the Seal: Mayan Culture Revisited.

  The Land Rover lurched onto a rutted track, but at least it was a road, as opposed to their journey from the thicket.

  “How many books have you published?” Brice asked.

  Before Julie could answer, Katie piped up, “Ten, with an eleventh in the works. Best da
y of my life was when she accepted my application to work under her.” Pride was laced into her words.

  “The book I just signed came from my dissertation research,” Julie explained. “It’s been out a long time.”

  “I want to visit that site,” Katie murmured. “The one from Signs and Seals.”

  “It’s in the Guatemalan Highlands,” Julie said.

  “I know that.” Katie rolled her eyes.

  “Rather than revisiting my triumphs,” Julie said softly, “blaze your own trail. You’re a brilliant researcher.”

  “Awww, you’re just saying that because I’m hurt.”

  “No. I really mean it.”

  Brice listened to the exchange, love for Juliana swelling through him. She could be short tempered and abrupt, but she was also compassionate, with a big heart. He’d tell her how he felt as soon as he could. No more beating around the bush. She’d always been the only woman for him.

  Katie’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment before she pried them open. “I’m so tired.”

  “You would be. You’ve been through a lot.” Brice turned in the seat and dug through the luggage pile behind the back seat until he came up with the pilot’s rucksack. He extracted another bottle of water and gave it to Katie.

  “Thanks. I am thirsty.”

  “Bottoms up, and then you can take a nap until we get to the plane.”

  She took a few swallows. “Geez. I’m not sure I can walk. Bet there’s a wheelchair somewhere at Cairo International. Dammit. I don’t have a passport. They’ll never let me on the plane.”

  “We came by private transport,” Chris told her. “Outside of your husband, it would be best to downplay that part, as in do not mention it at all.”

  “We knew you wouldn’t have ID,” the pilot said. “You won’t require any for this jaunt.”

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Even we don’t know his name,” Julie replied. “Close your eyes, sweetie. Lots of strong men are guarding the plane. Someone will carry you inside.”

  “Oooh, sounds decadent.” She leaned into Juliana.

  Brice kept a close eye on her as she drifted off. She’d probably moved out of danger, but it paid to be vigilant. Once they were in the plane, he’d work on her feet and dress her wounds from where she’d been whipped.

  Julie caught his eye and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  He placed an arm over the one she had around Katie. The Land Rover had reached the paved road leading toward the airport. Chris and the pilot were still alert, which might mean they expected problems.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked softly.

  “We’re not sure,” Chris answered carefully.

  “Airport in ten,” the pilot said, followed by, “Fuck. We have company after all.”

  The Land Rover sped up until its aging engine squealed in protest. Brice twisted around and spotted a black car closing on them. “Give me one of the rifles,” he said.

  “What’s happening?” Katie asked, her voice thick with sleep.

  “Keep your head down,” Julie said. “We’ll be all right.” She shielded the other woman with her body.

  Chris handed one of the automatic rifles over. “Ever fire one of these?”

  “I can figure it out.” Brice turned and knelt on the bench seat, stabilizing the rifle against his shoulder.

  “Get down lower,” Chris instructed. “Lay the gun across the seat back.”

  Brice slid into the footwell. The Land Rover was one of the ancient safari models. If it ever had a back window, it was long gone, so he didn’t have to worry about shooting through glass.

  “Wait until they’re fifty feet away,” the pilot’s words were terse.

  “And then hit them with the entire magazine, but in short bursts. If you try to empty the magazine all at once, your aim will go to hell,” Chris said. “Julie, here’s a spare.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Brice saw Chris toss something into the back seat. It gave him an idea. “Do we have grenades?”

  “Yeah, but no launcher,” Chris said.

  Brice watched the Mercedes sedan get closer and closer. He eyeballed fifty feet and engaged the trigger. Chris had said sort bursts. He aimed for the windshield first. When it dissolved in a spray of shattered safety glass, he switched to one of the front tires. The acrid bite of propellant and gunpowder filled the cab as he fired, and the gun warmed in his hands. Before the first tire went totally flat, he shot the other one. The Mercedes slewed sideways, obviously well beyond the driver’s control.

  “Aim for the front side window,” Chris said. “Nice shooting. I’m impressed.”

  Two more bursts emptied the magazine. The Mercedes skidded to a halt. No one got out. Brice had half expected men in black suits with sidearms. He turned back around and handed the rifle to Chris who ejected the magazine and slammed in another.

  “We should be home free,” he growled, “but I like to be ready.”

  Five minutes later, they pulled up next to the plane. The pilot and Chris piled out and began emptying the Land Rover, dragging gear toward the steps.

  One of the turbaned faux Egyptians trotted down the steps. “All safe and sound. Full tanks. Ready to roll.” He held out a hand, and the pilot dropped a thick envelope into it.

  “Could you help get everything inside?” The pilot asked.

  “Sure.” The other guard slung sacks over his shoulders and hucked them into the Gulfstream.

  Brice got out of the Land Rover, intent on helping Julie move Katie inside.

  “Move aside,” the mercenary who’d taken the money said. “I’ll get her.” Lifting Katie easily, he carried her up the steps.

  Brice hefted a medical bag lying on the tarmac. Julie grabbed the pilot’s rucksack. Brice planted himself in front of her. “Not quite the romantic setting I’d hoped for, but this needs saying. I love you, Juliana. I never stopped. There. Short. Sweet. Simple, but you’re everything to me. Just like you always were. We can go inside now.”

  A bright smile began in her eyes and spread to her mouth. “Good because I love you too. Watching you work was amazing. You’ve always had this quiet competence. Nothing rattles you. I remember—”

  “Inside,” Chris yelled. “Now. We need to get this bird upstairs.”

  “To be continued.” Brice brushed his lips over hers in a quick, sweet kiss.

  “Gosh, we sound like a romance serial,” she joked.

  “I’ll give you romance beyond your wildest dreams, wench.” He stood aside, and then followed her up the steps.

  “I’ll hold you to it,” she called over one shoulder.

  “Katie’s in the seat in the back,” Chris told Brice as soon as he was in the plane.

  “Perfect.” Brice headed for the rear of the aircraft to sit with his patient, warmth spilling through him. The rest of the world would fall into place. Julie still loved him. It was the only thing that mattered. Hunkering next to Katie, he stripped off gloves that smelled like gunpowder and dug in his bag for a fresh pair.

  “We’re out of here,” one of the mercenaries said.

  Chris tossed him the keys to the Land Rover. “You might want to select an alternate route.”

  The man smirked. “Yeah. We heard gunfire. Never fear, we have our exit all planned out.”

  The Gulfstream’s steps locked into place, and the turbines whined. The pilot didn’t bother with a full power anything this time, just nosed the craft down the runway and took off.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Juliana opened the driver’s window on her 4Runner. Rain spattered in, but at least the cold air would keep her awake. It was past nine at night, and amazingly it was only December twenty-third. Hard to believe she’d traveled through so many time zones—twice—in a period of about fifty hours.

  The same master at arms had been at the airport. He’d collected their burner phones, vests, and firearms and returned their personal phones.

  Brice had left with Katie, en route to Swedish Ho
spital. Julie had helped him clean and dress her wounds during the flight. It had taken a couple hours. Brice was thorough, and some of the abrasions had begun to fester. According to him, she was out of danger from the toxins in the snakebite, which was a huge relief. Julie had been concerned some type of delayed reaction might create issues. A bigger problem had been moving her into Brice’s car since he didn’t want her walking on her bandaged feet. Between the four of them, they’d managed it.

  Her father and the pilot had taken off, moving the plane elsewhere, probably to a military base. Brice had hugged her briefly before leaving, and they’d made plans to meet at Overlake around noon the following day. She’d bring work with her and find a place to hang out until evening and the Christmas Eve festivities. She’d toyed with showing up at Brice’s early to help Susan in the kitchen, but she’d only be in the way. Fancy food preparation wasn’t one of her strengths.

  Despite being weary and bleary-eyed from being on the move for two days straight, happiness seared her, made her spirit light. It wasn’t too late for them, after all. Brice still loved her. And she’d never stopped loving him. Not really. He’d matured into an amazing man. All the attributes he’d possessed as a youth had grown richer, deeper. He was competent, patient, compassionate. Medicine was far more than a profession for him. It was a calling. He was a natural healer. She’d watched him as he worked on Katie, reassuring her with both voice and touch.

  He had a way of looking directly at you that was supportive and comforting. She had a feeling his patients loved and trusted him because he was a straight-shooter. If the way he’d been with Katie was a bellwether, he told the truth and worked with his patients to develop an action plan. Katie hadn’t wanted to go to the hospital, but Brice had charted the advantages. His line of reasoning had been he needed the reassurance of another set of eyes and lab work to confirm she truly was on the mend.

  Katie may not have wanted to go, but she’d agreed because she believed Brice’s assessment and didn’t want to cause him worry. Julie smiled to herself. In addition to being a stellar MD, he’d developed a few psychological tactics along the way.

  She squinted against the glare of oncoming headlights and flashed her brights at the other driver, who retaliated by flashing twice back at her—and leaving his high beams on. Julie shook her fist his way, more amused than annoyed. Compared with Orestes Conom, the dude with his brights on was a piker.