by Vanessa Kier
Dev nodded. The bullets had torn through his shirt and lodged in the vest. Her breath shuddered on the way in. Had Seth known Dev was protected when he’d fired? She wanted to think so, but what if he hadn’t? The noise was too loud to ask Dev if he’d told Seth about the vest. She wasn’t going to shout out the question for everyone to hear. Besides, she wasn’t certain she wanted to know. Not quite yet.
She pulled apart the velcro fastenings and slipped the surprisingly heavy vest onto the floor.
Dev exhaled heavily, then winced and put his hands over the ribs on his right side. Sweat had darkened the t-shirt he wore underneath, but Kirra didn’t see signs of other injuries.
Settling back into the seat next to her brother, Kirra put her hands over her ears. A moment later, the blond man returned and handed her a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. She gave him a grateful smile and the man responded with a flirtatious wink.
“Watch it, Hoss,” Dev shouted, accepting a second pair of headphones from his teammate. “That’s my sister.”
Hoss gave Dev a cheerful thumbs-up, blew Kirra a kiss, then danced back when Dev swiped weakly at him. Bemused, Kirra watched the man walk away as she fitted the headphones over her ears.
Kirra felt as if she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Clearly these people knew and respected Dev, yet none of them were South African. So just what kind of work was her brother doing these days?
Her eyes sought out the medic and another man who were working on Seth. She clutched Dev’s hand and tried not to think about the possibility of Seth dying.
It seemed as if they’d only just taken off when the helicopter banked sharply over an airport and landed.
The soldiers picked up Seth’s stretcher and raced over to a cargo plane painted army green. They disappeared inside the open door in the tail of the plane and were quickly followed by men carrying the assassin’s stretcher. Two of Dev’s teammates grabbed him under the arms, lifted him off his feet, and ran after the others with Kirra trailing close behind.
The door of the plane had barely shut when it began taxiing.
Kirra grabbed onto a handle set in the side of the plane and looked around in astonishment. The interior had been set up as a medical facility. Compared to the helicopter it was brightly lit. The walls must have been insulated, because it was quieter than she remembered from the plane flight up from Johannesburg.
“We’ve got immediate clearance to take off and they’re prepping an operating room for us at the other end.” The speaker, a vaguely familiar woman wearing a doctor’s coat, motioned for the men carrying Seth’s stretcher to follow her through a door at the far end.
“Wait. Where are they taking him?” Kirra demanded. She still didn’t know if Seth had intended to kill Dev or not, but that didn’t lessen her protectiveness. He was hers until she decided otherwise.
“Don’t worry,” the medic told her as three men wearing U.S. army uniforms followed Seth’s stretcher through the door.
Kirra took a step forward, but the medic blocked her way. “You said he wasn’t going to be arrested!”
“Calm down. The soldiers are there to protect him.”
She stared helplessly at the door, barely registering that four soldiers escorted the assassin’s stretcher into the room.
“That’s an operating room,” the medic explained. “Dr. Kirk will take good care of Jarrod.”
That’s why the doctor had looked familiar. Dr. Helen Kirk was the American trauma surgeon who’d been one of the few survivors of the Hospital Massacre. She was also part of the committee that had organized the benefit concert. Kirra recognized her from the Skype meetings.
Dev’s teammates lowered him into a seat that pulled down from the wall. He fastened a safety belt around his waist, then nodded to indicate that Kirra should sit next to him.
A dark-skinned man wearing a tunic that identified him as a nurse approached Dev. He had her brother remove his t-shirt, then began his examination.
Meanwhile, the medic approached Kirra. He held up a small medical pack. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’d like to clean your wounds.”
Kirra shrugged and held out her right hand. As soon as he’d unwrapped the bandanna, showing the bloody X the rebel had cut into her skin, her body convulsed.
The blood welling from the cut she’d made on the rebel’s hand.
Kirra swayed forward.
“Hey, steady there.” The medic reached out, but Dev’s hand found her shoulder first and gently tugged her upright.
“Kirra, can you sit up on your own?” Dev asked.
“Yes, sorry. I can’t tolerate the sight of blood. And…uh…I had to cut a rebel in order to escape.”
Dev cursed in Afrikaans and exchanged a glance with the medic.
Focusing her attention on the other side of the plane, Kirra said, “Go ahead, sir.”
“Lance,” the medic said. “I’m Lance.”
“Would you like some water?” asked the man who’d just finished checking Dev’s ribs.
“Yes, please.”
He walked over to a cabinet and removed a bottle of water.
“Uh, do you have a bowl of some sort, too?”
The man nodded and pulled out a metal pan.
Kirra used the water to rinse the lingering taste of vomit out of her mouth, then spit it into the pan. Only once her mouth felt clean did she take a long swallow.
The medic waited patiently for her to finish, then picked up her hand. A moment later, she felt a cool, wet cloth against her wounds, followed by the sting of antiseptic. She sucked a pained breath in through her teeth.
Dev laced his fingers through her other hand. He held her wrist up in front of him and gently rubbed a section of undamaged skin. “I saw the handcuffs in the back room near where the bus was attacked. You got these cuts freeing yourself?”
Aware that Lance was listening in, she nodded. She hoped Dev wouldn’t press her too hard on how she’d come by that particular skill. Because her brother was a soldier and believed in the rule of law, she had never disclosed the work she’d been doing at the time of the attack. While he had to suspect that she’d been living a criminal life, she’d been careful to give him no reason to turn her over to the police.
She cleared her throat. “So, I guess that means you received my text.”
Dev scowled at her. “Yes.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I’ve never been so terrified as I was when I saw the body bags at the scene of the bus attack. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Tell me everything that happened.” He twisted slightly in his seat so he could see her better, although she could tell from the way he held his body that even that small motion hurt. “I’d been trying to catch up with you since the moment I read your message.”
Kirra shot a glance at Lance out of the corner of her eye. His head was bent over her feet as he washed them and disinfected the cuts on her soles. Dev motioned for her to go ahead.
As succinctly as possible, Kirra explained what had happened since her plane was grounded, ending with seeing Seth dump Dev over the cliff.
Dev made a sound that she thought was a suppressed growl, but she couldn’t be sure.
“Did Seth know you had body armor on?” She held her breath.
Dev hesitated. “I don’t know. Probably. I’d just tackled him to save him from the damn assassin, so he would have felt the bulk of the armor.”
She let her breath out slowly.
“I think he shot me mostly to get the assassin’s attention off of me.” He looked toward the door to the operating room. “But you’ll have to ask him.”
“I’m planning on it.”
Dev stared into space a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifted. “The team is never going to forget how you held that pistol on Lance.”
“Sorry, Lance.”
“No worries, ma’am, I’m used to it.” Lance looked up and gave her an a
mused smile. “Your brother has wanted to hold a gun to my head a time or two.”
“Is that so?”
Kirra raised her brows, but Dev merely grinned and gave a helpless half-shrug.
“Yeah,” she said. “He always has been a lousy patient.”
“You can say that again,” Lance murmured.
“So…” Dev prompted. “Where’d you learn to handle a gun like that?”
Kirra waited until Lance had finished bandaging her hand and moved away to dispose of the biohazardous waste before answering. “I told you that I was taking self-defense classes.”
“Yeah, but I thought that was just basic moves on how to get away if you were ever attacked again. Not how to use firearms like a professional.”
To Dev’s shock, Kirra shot him a scathing look. “What, you don’t think I’m smart enough to be able to safely handle weapons?”
“What? No.” Fuck. How did she do that to him? Manage to put him on the defensive so easily? He blew out a careful breath—the adrenaline had worn off and every breath hurt—and remembered what Jarrod had said about Kirra’s self-esteem. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten serious about defending yourself.” He swallowed the sudden flare of hurt and almost demanded to know why she hadn’t asked him for help. But it was obvious wasn’t it? They fought too much, and on top of that he was never around. Kirra would have known he was a bad bet.
She rolled her eyes. “Dev, I died after the attack. Of course I was serious about defending myself.”
He ground his teeth. God dammit, to this day it still terrified him knowing that she’d actually died.
“Through word of mouth, I found an organization run by former soldiers and members of the police,” Kirra continued. “They specialize in empowering victims of violent assault.”
His skin flushed with anger. He hated hearing the terms “violent” and “assault” used in relationship to his sister. But closely following that anger was fierce pride that she’d overcome the damage from the attack to become the strong woman who’d stood up to Lance and the rest of his team. She’d held herself with the confidence of a seasoned operative.
He studied her a moment. Relief that she was alive warred with confusion over the picture she presented. Her shirt and trousers were stained and torn. Cuts and bruises marred her delicate skin. Her feet were bare and had been covered in dirt before Lance cleaned them. Her flyaway blonde hair was pulled back off her face with some sort of black cloth. Yet instead of her distinctive blue-green eyes being filled with self-pity or a plea for sympathy, she looked at him with love, exasperation, and a quiet strength he didn’t recognize.
When had his flighty, artsy sister become this battered, yet triumphant, woman?
Kirra raised her brows, and he realized that he’d lost track of the conversation. “Uh…”
She shook her head and took pity on him. “I’ve been training six days a week for over five years now.” There was something hesitant in her eyes. As if she expected an insult.
How had he been so blind to the hurt he’d been causing her?
“Dev, the attack changed me. I understand why you were always harping on me before Kyle’s death, but I’m not that wild, irresponsible girl anymore. I have a successful career. I’m well-respected in my industry. I can hold my own in a fight. Yet you continue to treat me as if I’m a child who is incapable of making her own decisions.”
He glanced around the plane to make certain no one could overhear them. “Look. I owe you an apology. I—” Dammit, he was a man of action. He didn’t know what words to say to make this better. But a glimpse of the cautious hope in Kirra’s eyes proved that he needed to find a way to mend the damage he’d done.
“I’m proud of you, Kirra. You made the best decisions possible under the circumstances. No one would have expected you to escape from the rebels twice, yet you did. That’s impressive.”
The shock on her face made him cringe. She studied his face a moment, then grinned at him. “Thank you. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve been too hard on you. I only wanted to keep you safe.” He smiled faintly. “You have to admit that you were always in trouble of one kind or another.”
“I admit to nothing,” she said archly.
He chuckled, because she expected him to. Then he rubbed his finger over the palm of her hand while he considered whether to reveal everything he knew.
Before he could formulate the right words, Kirra said, “Dev, what I need is your support, not your all-or-nothing version of protection. I’m fully capable of running my own life.”
“I’m sorry. But, you’re my baby sister. It’s hard to think of you other than as someone needing my help.” Not that he’d done such a good job of protecting her. Then or now.
After a heavy silence, he finally said, “I know who you ran with in Cape Town.”
Kirra tensed and tried to pull her hand away.
“Relax, I’m not going to turn you in to the authorities.”
She made a small sound and he met her astonished gaze.
“Did you really think I’d want to see you arrested?”
She shrugged, and that admission hurt worse than the pain in his ribs. “You’re family, Kirra. I love you.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Aw, now, don’t cry.” He reached out with his free hand and brushed the tears off her cheeks, trying to hide his wince from her.
“I thought that was one of the reasons you stayed away,” she sobbed. “Because you knew what I’d done and didn’t want to have to turn me in.”
“No, sus, never.” He tried to gather her against him, but his ribs and their safety belts prevented him from moving any closer. Instead, he released her hand, then put his arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side. “Sure, after mom and dad told me that the police had called them because you’d been picked up for vagrancy, I wondered about the crowd you were hanging out with. But I was too busy with the military to give it much thought.” He shook his head. “That sounds terrible. If one of my teammates was that disconnected to his sister, I’d have been after him to know why.”
“You’ve never been comfortable with emotional stuff.”
“That’s no excuse.” Even if it was true. He’d rather run into a firefight with a terrorist than deal with messy—and painful—emotions. “After the attack, though, I wanted to know everything I could about your life. Partly to understand what had led up to the attack, but mostly because I wanted a way to prepare a defense for you if the police decided they had enough evidence to prosecute you.”
“Oh.”
“Are you crying again?”
“N-no. Of course not. I just t-thought you’d hate me for stealing.”
He leaned into her. “Ja well, you’re my sister. Was I happy that I discovered you’d been a thief? No. But I understood how you ended up there. If I’d been there for you after Kyle’s death, if mom and dad had been more supportive, then you wouldn’t have needed the false stability of that asshole Franz. And once you got a taste of the thrill, your love of risk would have found committing thefts addictive.”
Her shoulders rose underneath his arm. “Despite constantly hearing you and the parents call me stupid, it turned out that I’m pretty smart. Being a member of the gang of thieves was the first time since Kyle’s death that I felt not just appreciated, but respected.”
“Kirra, what kind of stupid stunt have you pulled now?” Dev flinched at the memory. How many times had he said similar things to her without realizing the effect his words would have? “I’m sorry if I made you think you were stupid. Your acts may have seemed stupid and ill-planned, but I never thought you lacked brains. Just the common sense to apply them properly.”
She stared at her lap. “It wasn’t that I didn’t consider the consequences of my actions. I just put priority on the rush of the experience above all else. As long as I had Kyle, I knew I was loved and that I mattered, so I gave u
p trying to make the rest of the family understand me. But it still hurt.”
“I’m sorry.” It seemed that he’d never run out of things to apologize for.
“Apology accepted.” She glanced at him, then focused her gaze on her lap. “After the attack I finally realized that the greatest harm I did my victims wasn’t in stealing their property, but in violating their sense that their private space was safe. To make amends, I’ve been working with a group that uses art and music to rehabilitate juvenile offenders. And since I started making a profit on my albums, I’ve been contributing a portion to a group that works with victims of crime.”
“That’s good. That sounds…ah…very healthy.” See? There was a reason he hated emotional stuff. It always left him tongue-tied.
Kirra’s next words came out very softly. “I still have the occasional urge to steal something when an opportunity presents itself. But I don’t want to be that girl any more, and so far I’ve fought off the urge.”
“I don’t suppose your adventures over the past few days have cured your need for an adrenaline rush?”
She laughed. “I think I can do without the life or death situations, but as for needing the challenge and the thrill of testing myself against risky odds? I’m afraid that’s a permanent addiction.”
He sighed dramatically. “I should have known.”
“Yes, you should have. After all, you like danger as much as I do. Else you wouldn’t be a soldier.”
He opened his mouth, realized that anything he said would probably be misinterpreted, and for once in his life didn’t let the comment escape. Instead, he told her, “I know I haven’t been a very good brother, but if you’ll give me the chance, I promise to do better in the future.”
She nodded and met his eyes. “I’d like that.”
Tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding suddenly vanished. “Good.”
On the other side of the plane, Hoss was gesturing and making faces. A sure sign he was telling some tall tale.
Kirra watched Hoss with a small frown. “So, what exactly is your job now? I noticed that most of your teammates are Americans.”