The Vows We Make (The Six Series Book 4)

by Sonya Loveday

  Paige shot out of bed, hands everywhere at once, until a cool sort of relief washed over me.

  “You can’t put any pressure on that arm, Mark. Do you hear me?” she asked, thumbing my eye open and peering into it.

  “Yes,” I whispered, afraid if I spoke too loud, it might invite the devil back to play with my broken bones.

  “Rest now, I’ll be right here,” she said, moving her hand down my face, tracing her fingers lightly along my skin like butterfly wings.

  “You’re safe now,” she said as the drug pulled me under.

  THERE WAS A SPARK OF will inside each and every one of us. Some used it to keep trudging along day to day. To keep moving forward when life threw every curve it could at you. Those people tapped into their will at random, using it in small doses, never really emptying the well. Some had to call on all of it at one time. They siphoned it in one large dose. Once it was gone, it was no longer there to call on. You broke. Shouted. Denied.

  I’d used it, all of it, to get out of the jungle. Carrying Mark on a rickety stretcher had only taken strength of muscle. It had been hellish. A nightmare with every step. Watching him writhe in pain, yet not waking, almost broke me over the hours it took to get him back to Cole Enterprise.

  I’d slipped off into a muted sort of trance once he was loaded into the small private jet and into the hands of waiting medics. They worked on him, going over every inch of him, careful not to jostle him more than necessary. We’d sat on the runway until the medics cleared the pilot for takeoff. And that was only after they’d administered morphine and double-checked Mark’s vitals.

  When the plane leveled off, they went right to work. They couldn’t do anything about his arm without taking an x-ray first, but they could get all the abrasions cleaned up and administer some sort of gel along the slits of his swollen eyes. It brought the swelling down almost immediately. He’d still have bruising, they’d told me, but the gel would at least accelerate the healing.

  I’d made the trip in a cloaked numbness.

  He’d be all right. The arm would take a while to heal. Broken bones always did. What wouldn’t heal was my fractured mind. So much could have gone wrong. He could have been killed right in front of my eyes. And how would I ever been able to continue on after that?

  Oliver had lied to us. Fed us what we’d wanted to hear in order for us to go along with his plan. I’d never forgive him for it. And the others? Had they known what sort of danger we’d been placed in? I had a hard time believing they’d allow it.

  Mark lay still as death on the hospital bed. The light turned way down in the windowless room made it feel more like a cell than the high-tech facility set up in the bowels of Cole Enterprise.

  Riley had run down the hall, arms locking me in a hug that squeezed tight enough to penetrate the haze I’d sunken into.

  She held me as I fell apart. Held me as they wheeled Mark through a set of doors I couldn’t go past.

  “He’ll be okay. He’s in really good hands,” she’d said, leading me to a room large enough for a hospital bed and a camp cot.

  With gentle, yet firm movements, she guided me to sit. “I asked them to put this in here for you. Why don’t you lay down and rest for a little bit?”

  I snapped out of it. The fog fell away, leaving nothing but burning anger in its place as I rounded on her. “I’m not a child, Riley!”

  She smirked. “There you are. You had me worried for a second.”

  I wanted to backhand her. Slap the smirk right off her face. “You couldn’t have been too damn worried.”

  Riley frowned. “Of course I was. Why would you think I wouldn’t be?”

  “Did you guys have a good laugh? Mark could have died, but hey, that’s just the cost of being associated with Cole Enterprise. We’ll just chalk it up to inexperience…” Anger choked my words as I slammed my lips together.

  Tears pooled in Riley’s eyes. “I can’t believe you’d think that. Paige, we’ve been worried sick and not able to do a damn thing except wait for Oliver to bring you home.”

  “Home?” I snapped. “This place is not my home. And you people are not my family. Family doesn’t try to kill each other off, and then, when it fails, offer words of comfort!”

  I couldn’t look at her. Didn’t want her fake sympathy, or any more excuses. I turned my back on her and said, “Get out, Riley.”

  When she left, I sank onto the camp bed, closed my eyes, and fought the overwhelming sadness that tried to break me.

  I had no idea how long I sat there. Time stretched when there was nothing to do but wait. Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours. They multiplied and grew and there wasn’t a damn thing to do but wait.

  Putting my head in my hands and my elbows on my knees, I floated in a trance-like state, refusing to rest. I wasn’t going to give in and sleep. Even though I could have slept for days, as tired as I was. There would be no sleep until they brought Mark back.

  The light tread of someone entering the room didn’t bring my head up. It wasn’t Mark back from surgery, so the guest was unimportant to me. If I refused to acknowledge them, they’d give up and go away. At least, I hoped.

  “They’ll be bringing him in about ten minutes,” Oliver said, crossing the room.

  I nodded.

  “I’d like to talk to you for a minute,” he added.

  He might as well have talked to the wall, because I had nothing to say to him.

  He sighed. “If you want to blame someone, blame me.”

  I shot off the bed and got right in his face. “Oh, I blame you all right. Now, if that’s all, can you kindly get the fuck out of my sight? Because I have nothing else to say to you.”

  We stared each other down, neither of us moving.

  I’d dealt with my fair share of stubborn boys. The Six being, well, six of them. I knew how pigheaded they could be. What Oliver didn’t know was I had them topped. Giving up and walking away would be a better option for him.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked off over his shoulder.

  He crossed his arms.

  “What the hell is this? Some kind of Mexican standoff?” Jared asked, walking up and standing like some sort of referee at our flanks.

  “Beat it, Jackson,” Oliver said.

  At the same time, I said, “Leave, Jared.”

  He shook his head, saying, “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna do that.”

  “Fine,” I snapped, giving him a cold look. “I will then.”

  Jared stepped in my path, blocking me.

  “Move.”

  He stepped back and grinned.

  I wasn’t up for Jared’s games, so instead of walking past him, I turned my back on him and put some space between us. I seemed to be doing a lot of turning my back on the people who’d meant so much to me.

  “You can try to shut me out all you want, Mrs. Stevens, but it’s not going to work, so you might as well just give up,” Jared warned.

  The squeak of wheels forced me to turn.

  Eli and a female nurse rolled the bed into the room, not stopping for Oliver and Jared to get out of the way. When they had the wheels locked, I moved to the side of the bed, lowered the rail, and then sat on the edge, taking his hand in mine as I whispered, “You look like a mummy.”

  “Doc said they’ll take the bindings off once he’s weaned to a lower dose of morphine. But for now, the wrap will support his arm and collarbone if he shifts in his sleep,” Eli said, setting his hand lightly on my shoulder.

  “His collarbone?” Jesus, no wonder he’d been in so much pain.

  “Small fracture. Painful, but a whole hell of a lot easier to heal from. He’ll be all right, Paige. You know this, but I’ll say it anyway… he just needs rest. Everything else will heal.”

  I reached up, putting my hand on top of his, and gave it a slight squeeze, and said, “Thank you.”

  “Now, how about you?” he asked, removing his hand from my shoulder and moving to stand where he could get a l
ook at my face. “Any injuries you haven’t told anyone about?”

  “No. No, injuries.” Except this big, gaping hole in my heart where my friends used to be.

  “Okay, well, we’re going to clear out and let you both get some rest. We’ll talk later,” Eli said as he stepped out of my line of sight.

  He used brisk words to clear out the room. I wasn’t sure they’d listen to him, but they must have, because after a few minutes, the silence allowed me to breathe.

  Mark’s hand was warm and the contact of his skin soothed my jagged nerves.

  “As soon as you’re healed enough to leave, we’re going and we’re not looking back,” I said, leaning over and brushing a kiss against his lips.

  Sleep snatched at me with heavy fingers. It pulled at me, like anchors tied to my arms and legs. My head lolled forward, neck muscles too weak to keep it up.

  Forcing myself to leave his side, I teetered on legs that carried me as far as the edge of the camp bed. Landing in a heap, I curled up on my side, facing Mark and giving myself over to the heaviness that pressed in on me.

  SHE WAS STILL ASLEEP WHEN I woke the second time. Mouth pulled into a grim line with purple half-moon circles under her eyes, dark enough to look like bruises.

  I took in everything about her as I watched her sleep. The curve of her hip. The delicate line of her jaw. There was so much about her that was strong, yet so very, very fragile.

  She’d be upset when she woke; I knew it just by the look that crossed her face every so often as she dreamed. Knew there would be hell to pay as soon as she opened her eyes. Paige didn’t back down from anything. And after everything she’d witnessed, I’d be surprised if she didn’t annihilate anyone who tried to justify our mission.

  A failed mission at that. Or had it been? The militia camp Oliver asked me to take pictures of really wasn’t what he thought it was. Unless, of course, where I’d ended up wasn’t the militia camp at all. No, it had to be what he’d wanted pictures of. While I didn’t have proof, digitally at least, I did have it carved in my memory.

  As far as the number of people in the encampment, I had no idea. But there had been another captive with me. What had happened to him? What the hell happened to me? My arm had been broken, but when? There’d been water. That I could at least remember, but then again, who the hell could ever forget the feeling of drowning?

  The door creaked open, alerting me to company. I could close my eyes and fake sleep, or I could keep them open and meet whatever came at me head on.

  Oliver stepped in the room. Seeing me awake, he made his way over to the foot of my bed, cleared his throat, and said, “I want to apologize.”

  I nodded, unable to come up with anything to say. He took that as a cue to continue. “I never meant for you, or Paige, to be in such a dangerous situation. It was my mistake.”

  His apology was sincere. The haunted look in his eyes went soul deep. The outcome of our mission weighed heavy on him.

  “Why?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I meant to ask why he had sent us, why he felt like it was his fault, or why things had gone so wrong.

  He squared his shoulders and said, “There are a whole lot of answers I could give you that would cover such a huge question. I’ll start by saying this… the two of you would be a valuable addition to our team. I knew it the minute I saw how you adapted to the situation in New York. And not only that, but it would have meant every one of you were in the loop… safe, or as safe as you all can be together.”

  “You can’t guarantee our safety. No one can,” I said, shifting to sit up. If we were going to talk about everything, I damn sure didn’t want to be flat on my back like some sort of invalid.

  The corner of his mouth lifted and then dropped. “No, you’re right. There’s no way to guarantee something like that. Here or anywhere. The difference is that here, you’re not alone. Even on assignment, you have backup and a whole team ready to step in if it calls for it.”

  “What happened? How did the mission go so wrong? Paige and I weren’t even close to the coordinates you gave us,” I asked, feeling a scowl pull at the tightness around my eyes.

  “I don’t know. Paige told us about the lone guy who pulled the knife on you. It made no sense to me. Militia personnel don’t wander too far from their camps. They have perimeter guards in place. If someone gets too close, they’ll take them. Usually, they don’t want anyone to know about them or their whereabouts. It’s easier to keep the location private that way.”

  “Wouldn’t do if a tourist came up missing and a search party was sent out,” I added.

  He nodded. “Exactly. It was why I was specific about the coordinates you stuck to. Sending you in as a photographer made the most sense. The locals see a lot of people coming in with cameras and think nothing of it. And, sometimes, locals are paid off to listen and watch. The rest of the cover of you going in as honeymooners, added to the fact you had a personal tour guide hired to take you into the jungle to find the green monkeys…” He spread his hands wide and continued, “No one should have ever thought you’d be there to do reconnaissance work.”

  “What did he want? The American man with the green eyes, I mean,” I asked.

  “He never said, but I’d wager you were just as much a surprise to him as he was to you,” he answered.

  I looked over at Paige, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She’d been through a hell of a lot. I couldn’t imagine it if everything had gone the other way around and they’d taken her. Wouldn’t have been able to live with myself had she gone through what I had. But she’d gone through her own sort of hell. Ran like I’d told her to. In doing so, she was able to get help right away. In all that time, she’d have been worried out of her mind not knowing where I was or what had happened.

  What was worse—knowing or not knowing?

  “You were never alone. I sent Josh and Ella in as backup from the time you left Alabama. They left ahead of you both times to get set up and check the area. Had they reported anything that seemed unsafe, I would have pulled you immediately,” Oliver said.

  “You sound as if you’re making a case for yourself,” I said, watching him closely. I could understand apologizing for what happened, but he’d kept on, giving me detailed information.

  “That’s because he is,” Paige said.

  The sound of her voice wrapped around my heart like a fist and tugged. I put my good hand out to her, waiting for her to take it.

  Her fingers were cold as she firmly gripped my hand and then leaned over, brushing a kiss to my lips before pulling back to look at me. Her eyes searched my face, neck, the line of my shoulder, making a detailed account of my injuries. She had the same pinched look on her face that even in sleep hadn’t gone away.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  I gave her fingers a hard squeeze before I answered. “Better now you’re awake and tending to me.”

  A crooked smile wobbled on her lips for the briefest of moments before she turned her attention to Oliver.

  Her hardened look never broke as she crossed her arms, planting herself firmly for a fight. I knew that stance and look all too well. It was going to be a battle of wit and word—one she rarely ever lost.

  “Who is Trent, and how do you and Ella know him?” she demanded.

  “Trent? Trent who?” I asked, wondering what I missed.

  “That would be the man who put you here,” Paige answered, eyes darting to my arm. It gave a dull throb in response.

  “It wasn’t the Russian? What’s his name? I thought that was the lead you had,” I asked, trying to remember the intel he’d gone over with us.

  Oliver’s shoulders seemed to sag as he weighed his words before answering, “All the intel pointed to him, and it was partly right, but it was Trent you were taken by.” He sighed before continuing. “Trent was one of our operatives until he was badly wounded and Cole was forced to seek medical help outside of our operation.”

  My mind reeled, trying to understan
d how so much had gone so wrong. An operative of Cole Enterprise was responsible for what happened? How? Why?

  “You’ll have to excuse me, but after seeing part of this facility, I can’t understand what sort of injury he could have had that couldn’t be taken care of here,” Paige said with a polite coolness that bordered on sarcasm.

  “It wasn’t always like this. Not back when he was injured… shot. It was a fatal wound, or so we thought. Cole sent him to the hospital, hoping they might be able to save him. We would have lost him either way. Had we kept him here, he would have died from his injuries. Making the decision to send him outside of our operation meant losing him as an operative.”

  “That’s stupid. You’d write him off just because you had to send him to the hospital?” Paige shook her head in disbelief—or maybe disgust.

  “That’s not it at all,” Oliver snapped back at her. “If you knew as much as you think you do, you’d understand we don’t let our operatives go like that. Had he been anyone else, a trip to the hospital in order to save their life would be expected. He isn’t just anyone though.”

  “Oh, and what made him so special that the presence of him in a hospital would be cause enough for him to be written off?” Paige seethed.

  “You can’t send a listed dead man into the hospital with a gunshot wound. As soon as they figured out who he was, the media swooped in on him like the vultures they are. His face was flashed on every damn television screen. He didn’t just make national news; his story went international as well. Now, what do you think happens to a person who’s spent over five years of his life walking in the shadows because everyone who knew him thought he was dead?”

  “I take it he wasn’t very happy with the decision to do whatever it took to keep him alive?” I asked.

  “No. He wasn’t. We’d thought he’d forget us. Thought, well, it doesn’t matter, because he did remember us. And instead of taking the offered hand of stepping back into the land of the living, he chose to go rogue instead.”

  “Rogue,” she repeated, and then asked, “And what about the explosion? Who set that off?”