“And how would we get to the water, O wise one?” Key asked.
“We go one by one. I’ll take Emma,” Jem informed them. It was basically a run for your life, and going singly would let them fly under the radar. They’d move in formation, putting half an hour between each of them. That would leave them half an hour in the water to get back to the boat before the light. If the storm broke, Drea and Grace would move back out to sea, so they’d have to make sure that that didn’t happen.
“It’s a good idea,” Gunner agreed. “But I’m running with Avery, any objections?” There was silence. Even Avery didn’t dare to disagree with that. “Good. Jem, I think you should go first. Get a head start with the boat. We’ll put Key behind you, and then Avery and I will go next. Dare will box us in after a good interval.”
It made sense to put the strongest swimmers as the last ones—both Gunner and Dare were former SEALs.
The problem with the dock was that Jem couldn’t simply walk across it. It wasn’t attached to the beach, but rather out past the rock formation, which meant even though they would be closer it would actually be a more treacherous swim. This was normally more up Gunner’s alley, but he had Avery. And while Avery was a fierce fighter, she did not have the experience they did.
Jem looked down at Emma’s pale face. There was no time like the present. He took off, leaving the others to set their watches for the half-hour intervals. He basically ran by instinct, the way he always had done in the bayou at night, letting what little common sense and instinct he had guide him. That was the great thing about always being on the edge—he truly believed that they were some kind of force that would help him get to where he wanted to be, and no amount of electroshock therapy would take that away from him.
The rain came down in sheets. He’d wrapped Emma up in his poncho, turned her head toward him in an attempt to shield her face from the driving wind and water. The swim was going to be a bitch, and so was trying to hang on to the damned inflatable boat. But he made it to the beach in record time, slid quietly behind two men who were on guard. The urge to kill them was strong, but he’d let Gunner and Avery have that honor.
The water was even warmer than it was before—shark warm. Thankfully, the thunder’s boom overshadowed the sound of the boat inflating, but he had to get out of there before the lightning struck and illuminated them far too close to shore. He didn’t have time for his wet suit, barely had time for the O² mask, and then he was under the water, propelling the boat as fast as he could toward the rocks … and back to Drea.
Chapter Fourteen
Drea heard the shooting right before she saw a hand come over the railing. A head popped over, the mask went up and she heard her name shouted.
Jem.
She went over as fast as she could, taking care not to slip along the soaked wooden deck. She looked past where he’d dropped back into the water, and saw him holding on to a boat. A body lay inside the boat, wrapped. But not fully wrapped, the way a body would be.
She was alternately relieved and terrified—for Emma, for the fact that the rest of the team was nowhere to be seen. Still, she lowered the thick rope from the deck down to Jem and he proceeded to tie the unconscious woman to him. Normally, she knew he’d simply throw her over his shoulder, but the sea and the ladder, soaked, was far too precarious to risk that. Once she was firmly tied—which seemed to take hours—Jem began the climb up the ladder. The small boat, still lashed to the bigger one, was thrown to and fro with no weight in it. She kept her eyes locked on Jem, watching his progress, urging him on in her head.
Finally, he was over the rails, walking with her to the cabin. Grace was listening to the radio, hands near the controls, prepared to take off at a moment’s notice.
“They’re coming,” Jem told her. “Half-hour intervals. Gunner and Avery are next. Then Key and then Dare.”
“Alone?”
“Safer that way,” Jem said.
Drea worried for all of them, but her stomach cramped as she saw Grace’s face, stoic in the semidarkness.
“They’ll be fine.” Grace’s voice was firm like she was willing—or forcing—the universe to agree with her.
“Pull the curtain,” Jem told her as he got Emma untied and situated on a pallet on the floor. He handed her the lamplight on low—it shouldn’t be seen through the storm, but she’d have to work fast. Grace went to the closed shade, giving further protection from the light with her body.
Drea stopped thinking and let her training kick in. Warm saline. Glucose. Checking reflexes as she stripped Emma out of her wet clothing and wrapped her in towels, briskly rubbing her to revive some pink to her skin, to get the blood flowing.
“Did she open her eyes at all?” she asked.
“Not that I saw. She did moan a couple of times.”
Drea lifted her eyelids again. “She was probably drugged. Whatever they gave her is wearing off.”
Just then, Gunner and Avery burst into the cabin. Drea practically heard everyone’s sigh of relief, but until Key and Dare got on that boat …
She glanced over to where Gunner was stripping Avery, who was no doubt hypothermic. Gunner and Jem were probably pretty close to it, but they were bigger. Even though the rain was warm, water and panic could do funny things to a body—Drea was now an unfortunate expert. But Gunner was a medic and he’d get Avery up and running in no time.
“How is she?” Avery asked through chattering teeth. She held the edges of the blanket together over her naked body and Drea half heard Gunner telling Jem to strip as well. But he wasn’t doing it, and she knew what that meant.
One minute over the next half hour, and Jem was going back for Dare and Key. In fact, she was shocked he was actually going to wait the half hour.
She looked down again at Emma and saw that the woman’s eyes were open. And terrified. “Emma, you’re safe. Rescued. Your father sent us.”
It would take Emma a while to process that. For now, she began to tremble, not sure if she should trust anybody. Drea wondered if this was what it was like for her, and if so, how heartbreaking for the rest of the team to watch it happening.
When she looked up again, what seemed like minutes later but was really more like a solid ten, Grace was holding Jem’s biceps. It was impossible to tell if she was trying to hold him in place or pushing him to go, but it didn’t matter. Jem finally moved away from her, bent down and kissed Drea. Whispered, “I’ll be back, babe. Promise.”
A look crossed between Jem and Gunner, and her heart filled with dread. But she didn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe Dare was very close, already in the water, and they’d be back in five minutes or ten or even fifteen.
But while the team would gratefully wait for Dare forever, the sunrise would not be as kind to them.
And she wasn’t surprised at all when, fifteen minutes after Jem had gone back into the water, Gunner started up the boat and began to steer it away from the island and the shore. And Dare, Key … and Jem.
Grace cried quietly. Stoically. Drea was numb, forcing herself to concentrate on calming Emma down, getting her blood pressure lower and her temperature higher. Avery dropped the towel and dressed in dry clothes. She used the fish finder to try to see if there were any warm bodies anywhere in their vicinity. But there were several large explosions on the island, followed by randomly peppered AK-47 shotgun blasts. None of the blasts were coming their way—the boat was still hidden in the dark, Gunner steering using the compass and no light. The sound of the motor was drowned out by the storm and the shots and they were leaving men behind.
Her man.
She didn’t need her memories to tell her that.
Chapter Fifteen
Night passed quickly. Drea was so busy taking care of Emma—or maybe she’d thrown herself into it purposely—that she blinked at the light coming in through the cabin window in disbelief.
They’d missed their window of opportunity. Jem, Dare and Key were now stuck on the island, forced to spend at least an
other twelve hours, surviving.
She left Emma sleeping and went to the deck, found Gunner, Avery and Grace … and they all wore that same, slightly stunned, half-exhausted look.
Gunner’s teeth were gritted. It was obvious that Grace had been crying—tears flowed down her cheeks in single rivulets, but she wasn’t making a sound. Avery sat staring at the fish finder, her body wrapped tightly into itself with her chin on her knees. Emma slept, finally stabilized and semicalm.
Drea realized she was shivering. This had nothing to do with the temperature—the cabin was jacked all the way up to sauna heat levels, and out here wasn’t much different.
They were far enough away from the island that they could go out onto the deck without issue, but no one moved.
Finally, Gunner spoke. “They’re stuck on the island. I’m going to drop you guys off on land, and I’m going to take the boat back and I’m going to get them out.”
Avery jumped up. “I’m coming with you.”
“I need you to take care of them.” His voice was gentle, but his eyes were fierce—she knew he’d do battle to make sure she stayed behind. Avery surveyed Drea and Grace, and then glanced toward the cabin where Emma was, and she drew in a deep breath and nodded.
The level of sacrifice nearly took Drea out at the knees. But once the decision was made, Avery was calm. She set about making sure Gunner had all the gear he needed. She made sure Drea had what she needed, and Grace and Emma as well. She and Gunner spent time with their heads together, staring at maps.
And finally, as dusk threatened, Gunner disappeared into the water and Avery watched him go. And then she turned to Drea and Grace. “We’ll sleep in shifts. I’ll take the first one.”
“I don’t want to be inside and leave you out here with no one,” Grace said.
Avery nodded. “I’ll grab some of the air mattresses and you and I can stay out here. Best that Drea stays with Emma. Will you be able to sleep?”
“I will. And I can wake on a dime if Emma needs me,” Drea agreed.
Avery disappeared inside to grab the air mattress and Grace sighed.
“What are you worried about the most?” Drea asked.
Grace stared at her for a long second, then said, “Sometimes I forget about your amnesia. I know this is going to sound so strange. But I pray none of them are captured. I pray that they’re either on the island, hiding or …” She trailed off, unable to bring herself to say the word dead out loud. “But being captured again, I mean, I know Dare’s strong, but no one should have to live through that twice.”
So that was what Grace was talking about when she mentioned Drea’s amnesia—it must be common knowledge that Dare had been captured before. “So the first time, it was bad?”
“You know the scars on his hands?” Grace asked. When Drea nodded, Grace continued. “They strapped him to a cross … and then they nailed his hands to the wood just to torture him, and left him to die in the jungle. Ultimately, because of my stepfather.”
Drea bent forward on her knees trying to breathe. Grace was by her side in seconds rubbing her back, apologizing. “I’m so sorry, Drea. I forget—you act like such a damned warrior, so stoic.”
She reached up and grabbed Grace’s hand. “They’ll get through this—they have to.”
*
Jem had just gotten to the safety of some bushes, just beyond the beach, when the sun rose. He looked back over the water, using binoculars, relieved that he didn’t see any evidence of Dare or Key or any of their gear on the beach. He did, however, see a giant upswing in the number of armed men, on the beach and beyond. They’d probably discovered Emma was missing and started combing the island right when Key was preparing to take off and decided that staying on the island together was their best move.
Which meant they were either hiding or captured, and Jem would bet his soul on the former. After you were captured once, you’d do anything to avoid it, and those two men had shared in something terrible, a story of survival that was uplifting and one that scarred them both to the bone.
Key was supposed to go right after Gunner and Avery, so as soon as more than half an hour had passed after they got safely on board, Jem knew. Maybe none of the men had said anything to Avery about the growing tension on the island; maybe it had been a last-minute look of “take the girl” from Key and Dare, who wouldn’t have given it a second thought.
Just the way Jem had no doubt Gunner would come back for them tonight, with an inflatable boat and more ammo.
Today, they’d have to survive the daylight.
*
“You know Jem’s here,” Key said quietly … and suddenly.
He and Dare had spent the last hour of daylight digging a large hole in the cool ground, covering it with a few pieces of wood and some leaves from the ground covering. Now they hid inside their coffinlike structure, sweating to fucking death. But it was better than being up in one of the trees all day with the sun beating down on them.
From here, they could hear the vibrations of footsteps when and if they got close. They were still near the cabin where Emma had been held, figuring that, since she was already gone, most of the armed men had no real reason to come back around this way. So far, they’d been proven right, but …
Yeah, neither took anything for granted.
“I figured he’d turn back. And I’m betting Gunner’s on his way too,” Dare agreed.
“And I’ll bet Avery stayed behind to be with Grace and Drea,” Key added. Because Avery functioned, for all of them, as the heart and soul of Section 8. She didn’t have a military background—instead she’d learned the bounty hunting business from her mom and had a pretty great, and normal, family life, until her mom was killed when Avery was in her early twenties.
From there, she’d met Dare, then Gunner, and then Key, Jem and Grace. She’d fought for all of them—to stay together and otherwise.
“She’s the best decision S8 ever made,” Dare said quietly.
“Can’t argue.” Key had reservations early on about working with women—not because he didn’t believe they could do the job … but because he was worried he’d spend so much time protecting them that he’d be distracted. And he hadn’t been the only one concerned about that—Avery had as well.
Now she was the one they counted on to balance that male/female ratio. During times like this, the decision to keep the women on safe ground was left up to her. She had all their trust … and in return, she trusted all of them implicitly, with last night being a perfect example.
When Key had been about to go, his gut refused to let him. Instead he’d glanced at Gunner, and Gunner knew instinctively what he meant.
So did Avery. And even though she was truly the glue who held them together, and she picked most of their missions, at times like this they functioned as a semidemocracy.
“You gotta trust me, Avery,” he’d told her. And she had. She and Gunner got into the water.
Ten minutes later, the beach was invaded. He and Dare had barely made it back toward the jungle. Now they were trapped, in one of the most serious situations S8 had found themselves in while dealing with traffickers. It would take all their smarts, their experience, to survive this.
And Key had no doubt they’d do so. But they also needed to bleed off the tension.
“Would you do anything different?” Key asked Dare now.
Dare smiled. “I’d give anything for more time with Grace, but hell, I’m lucky for having the time I did share with her.”
This was maudlin—or would be to most, but not to them. This was something they did. As soldiers, as SEALs … when you were trapped like this, you passed the time thinking positively and still going over your bucket lists. Confessing your shit so you could go to heaven with a clean soul. Because it was the two of them against at least sixty heavily armed men, and there wasn’t enough in their packs to wage a full-on war in daylight. They’d need to get to the main boat or cabin and borrow some supplies, and if they made it to nightfall,
that was exactly what they’d do.
For now …
“You think Jem’s happy with Section 8, or is this team shit’s too much for him?” Dare asked, as if they were sitting on a beach somewhere, relaxing with drinks instead of halfway buried underground.
“I think it’s a bit of both,” Key said honestly. “I think the stuff with Drea’s fucking with his guilt. Which is why he typically works alone and never pulls anyone into his shit.”
Dare nodded. “I hear that. But sometimes that actually works out.”
As it had done when Dare pulled Grace into his family shit. And Drea … the way she looked at Jem. Well hell, he could only hope that he’d find someone to look at him like that one day. When he was retired. And off this godforsaken island. “I’m sure Emma’s fine.”
“Yeah, she’s gonna make it, no problem.”
*
Jem had remained as shaded as possible, sweating his balls off, forcing himself to stay still and not risk attracting one of the terrorists’ minions currently haunting the island. He’d gone over fifty different possible plans, and then he’d let his mind wander …
Which was dangerous. Because it wandered to Drea. And no, that wasn’t the place to let it go. In this kind of situation, Jem thrived. If it were up to him, he’d have gone into this, throwing grenades, blowing shit up, causing a scene. It was his way. But he conceded, for the good of the team, that he would only do that when it wouldn’t affect their safety.
Although hell, he thought that was the best time to do so. Which was why he often found himself in a random therapist’s office in whatever psychiatric unit the CIA put him in when, according to his boss, he’d done something really right but beyond any framework of procedure. Giving Jem over to a therapist was his sup’s way of giving the CIA a time-out from him. So while the sup went about erasing what Jem had done, Jem would sit in an office, bored to tears.
Hell, he’d learned early on that you had to make your own fun most everywhere you went, especially when you were sitting across from a shrink. He’d realized that their offices all looked alike. A neat desk. Chairs. Books. And a plant. Nine out of ten times, it was fake, and when it wasn’t fake, it looked well on its way to dying. And how the hell was a doctor who couldn’t keep a plant alive—or couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to try—be someone he wanted digging into his psyche?
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