She swayed into him, and he stifled the quietest of groans.
“Oh, I forgot. You’re hurt.” Mia struggled to detach herself, but his grip was firm, unwavering, cementing her against his broad chest. “Let me go, Colby. You shouldn’t do that.”
“Just give me a sec.” A heartbeat later, he ran his hands over her face, down her neck, and settled his grip on her shoulders. “God, you’re beautiful. You deserve so much more than this.”
“Yeah, I deserve a candlelit dinner. Put it on your list of things to do. Come on. Let’s go inside. You need to rest.”
“Just let me feel you for a minute. I need this. To know you’re okay. That you’re safe. You against me, baby. That’s what I need.”
She stopped struggling and all but disappeared into his arms, which were the size of tree trunks, hiding her from the world. She pressed against his pecs, listened to the rhythmic thump of his heart. “I can’t believe you worried about me. You were shot.”
He relaxed around her, caressed her cheeks again, and tilted her gaze to his. His eyes glowed in the night.
“Colby?”
His lips touched hers. Delicate and soft. Not at all how she thought he might kiss her right now. Nothing she’d expect after their awful adventures. He was sweet. Careful. Savoring.
He stopped, but his lips still moved against hers. So quiet the words, she almost missed them. “I’ll never forget.”
Hell, she’d never forget this either, but a sentimental Colby Winters was something altogether new to her. Another facet to the man. Every day, she learned more about him. And, thanks to him, about herself, too.
“Mia—”
“Enough is enough. Get your asses in here,” Jared called from the shack, a short distance away.
Colby smiled, straightened, then winced. She could tell he was in far more pain than he admitted.
“Let’s go. Move your stubborn butt. You need to sleep and eat.” She pulled back and gave him a wink and a smile. “They’ve got bug juice.”
“Bug juice, huh? What do you know about that?”
“I know it tastes like the ugly step-brother to watered-down Kool-Aid mixed with day-old seltzer.”
“That’s an accurate description.”
“And they’ve got edible plastic that looks like spaghetti.”
“MREs? Well, aren’t you the seasoned field grunt?”
“You know it.”
“What do you have, Winters?” Jared shouted out the door. “A case of the dumbasses? Collect your woman and move in.”
“What do you say, woman? Ready to be collected?” He scooped her into his arms and tried to hide the flex of his jaw and the sawing of his teeth with a closed-lip smile.
“You’re insane. Put me down. You’re hurt. I’m not.”
“Tell me what to do because I’m hurt one more time, doll, and we’re going to have a problem.”
Without waiting for a response, he limped them to the shack, brushed past Jared, and set her down by the table, bracing a hand on it. He breathed heavy. Sweat sprouted fresh on his brow.
“You okay, Winters?” Jared eyed him, wary.
“Yeah. Dehydrated.”
Jared continued to study him. “You take something for the pain?”
“Yeah. Something.”
Brock, a few feet behind Colby, shook his head. Jared noticed. Mia noticed. Everyone but Colby noticed.
He cracked his knuckles against the table and shifted his weight. “I just ripped out the bandages in my cuts and doused it with cauterizing powder. Hurts. Blazing pain. Not in the mood to dwell on it. That okay with you, boss man?”
Jared didn’t respond. The guys looked concerned, but whether it was because he challenged Jared or his spectacular wound care decisions, she didn’t know.
Mia broke the tension. “Well then, let’s get you some water.”
“Bug juice,” Jared said.
“Bug juice,” she said more for Jared than Colby. “Cash, you mind?”
Cash tossed him the bottle. They loved to throw things. Why was that? They were an arm’s length apart. It had to be some unwritten code of dudedom.
Colby cracked the cap and downed it in a few swigs. “Got any Dots in this shit shack?”
Cash chuckled. “Nope. But we’ve got beef stew, beef bbq, beef—”
“Cash.” Mia glared at him.
“Learning their tricks, doll?” Colby asked, eyebrows raised.
“Two of them, I have pegged.” She pointed to Jared, who grumbled, and Cash, who threw his hands up in innocence. “These other two, we’ll see.”
“Pays to have a couch doctor around. She’ll get into your brains.” Colby pulled his shirt from his ripped stomach and mopped the sweat on his face. “How is it a million degrees here, but I’m freezing? I need to shake this off.”
Jared eyed him again. “That bug juice helping?”
“Yeah, might be.” Colby grumbled under his breath.
Not wanting to tread on Jared’s steel-toed boots, but not wanting Colby to topple over in a pile of rock-hard, shot-up muscle, Mia said, “Why don’t you get some rest? Lie down on that bed over there. I’ll keep you company. That bed isn’t so bad. Scratchy, but you won’t even notice.”
He nodded and stumbled over. Cash and Brock took an arm to help him down, then he shut his eyes. She scooted by the guys and plopped beside him. His eyes pinched tight as if in tremendous pain. Sleep wasn’t helping. His harsh, jagged snores couldn't find an even cadence.
Mia stood, found the packet of moist wipes, and went back to the mat. He didn’t stir as she wiped off his face, starting at his forehead and working down to his chin. Fresh sweat bubbled up, creating a pathway of droplets from one temple to the next. His scruff was now a full beard, and she tried to smooth it down.
He looked like hell. Like his twitchy body revolted against his offered peace treaty of sleep. His shirt was drenched. The pants, torn and shredded, clung to his huge thighs. One pant leg fell open at a tear, showing a very red, very raw, wound.
“Jared.” She waivered, not wanting to interrupt the men now bent over the table, working on their extraction plans. No one heard her. She didn’t want to do anything to slow down plans to get the hell out of Colombia. But her gut said emergency, emergency.
She approached cautiously. From the part she heard, a chopper would be there the day after next. It was running an unexpected extraction for another team. A few more days, she could handle it. Bug juice and MREs. One mat and a bunch of grumpy, stinking men who’d probably been awake going on thirty-six hours. And then there was the uncomfortable dilemma of communing with nature. They didn’t seem to have a problem wandering off. She, on the other hand, did.
Jared hadn’t been a fan of her interruptions when he ordered men around the shack. And an interruption while in the midst of strategy and plans, Mia would’ve bet huge money that was a worse offense.
“Jared.” She cleared her throat. “Something’s wrong with Colby.”
“Yeah, he extracted a bullet, ran a marathon through the rainforest, and has to deal with you. He needs to sleep. He’ll be fine.”
Deal with me? Jared was a tool of the lowest order. But she was in the right, and he needed to at least check on Colby.
“I wouldn’t bother you if I didn’t see a change.”
Jared rolled his eyes. Did he do these things just to make her spitting angry?
“You think I want to slow our departure? That I like peeing in the woods, or sitting around with all you smelly men? You think I don’t want a dang shower? Take a look at him. Something’s wrong.” Jared brought out the worst in her. Had she ever yelled at one man so many times?
Jared tilted his head at Brock. “Humor her.”
Mia would have kicked him if she thought it’d help her argument. Instead, she glared at him, pursed her lips, and silently cursed him every way she could dream. And lately, her dreams had been particularly mean.
Brock, who was balancing on the back legs of a chair,
let it fall, and put down the map he had been reviewing. “Stubborn ass should have taken a pain pill.”
He pushed his hands off his knees and stood. Mia wanted to grab him by his belt loops and drag him over to Colby, but Brock didn’t seem the type to be pushed around by anyone. Not that their off-putting grumbles brought her to a full stop before. Still, she was going to give him a hot second before she forced him into gear.
Brock ambled to the mat and dropped down to a knee. Mia hovered over him, ignoring his annoyance. He put the back of his hand on Colby’s forehead and took it away. Placed it again, then moved it to the back of his neck. “Shit.”
Two fingers on his neck, Brock waited, taking his pulse. “Shit.”
Two shits? What did that mean? Would he say something besides shit?
Jared raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“We’ve got a problem.” Brock’s hands moved back to Colby’s forehead.
“What is it, asshole?”
“His brains are cooking. He’s got a hell of a fever. He’s sweating his ass off and shivering.”
Jared stalked over, his face stern. “What the fuck, Brock? I thought you gave him some heavy hitting antibiotics. Penicillin so strong, it’d stop the plague.”
“I did. Something’s wrong.”
Mia felt tiny in the room of raging testosterone but spoke up anyway. “Well, yeah, he’s been shot.”
“No, Winters gets shot all the time.”
Oh, of course he does. What the hell?
He must have seen something on her face. Brock back peddled. “Well, not all the time. But enough that he knows how to handle it. Let’s see what our boy missed.”
Brock pulled a knife out of his back pocket and flipped it. A blade shot straight, and before she could wonder why he had it, he cut Colby’s pant legs straight to the waistline, sheathed the knife, and inspected his legs. Colby didn’t stir.
He took the knife out again and repeated the cut on the front of his shirt. It sprawled on each side of Colby, who now vibrated with the shakes. His teeth chattered. His brow pinched tight.
Brock motioned to Rocco. “Help lean him over. I need to see his back.”
Rocco stepped forward. Cash and Jared followed. Rocco and Cash braced a shoulder, lifting him up and on his uninjured side. Colby didn’t wake up. His body was limp, and his head rolled forward. Brock cut the remaining remnants of his shirt off.
“Son of a bitch.”
Mia tried to see around the men. All the cussing did little to explain what was happening. They conversed in shits and bitches, and she was left clueless.
“What’s the deal?” Jared asked.
Well, at least Jared had a taste of her annoyance. He hadn’t translated the shits either.
“Shrapnel. Right near this GSW. Probably couldn’t feel the difference. He’s had way more blood loss than originally estimated. It’s all still in there. Best case scenario, dehydration and nasty infection. Worst case, septic shock. We gotta get him out of here, like now. Or he’s done.”
The analysis hurt deep in her chest. Physically made her flinch, cringing away from the men. Jared cursed a Colombian mile wide, grabbed the radio handset, and strutted out the shack door.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” Mia mumbled but already knew the answer.
Nobody responded. No words of comfort. No lies. The hush answered her question.
She swallowed past a knot of despair. “Well, what are we supposed to do? Guys? Anything?”
“With what we have, not much we can do.” Brock moved to a backpack. “This is the last of the antibiotics. But we need to cool him down. I don’t see anything to do that with. We need to keep watch.”
“Watch for what?”
“To make sure he keeps breathing.”
Tears leaked. Her throat seized in pain. “And if he stops breathing?” The words barely passed her lips, and the prickle of cold sweat beaded on the nape of her neck.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Mia.”
“I don’t give a fuck what I said before.” Jared’s bark streamed into the shack. “Get me that helo now, or my man is good as dead.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
They landed at an airfield outside Washington, DC. The last day was a hazy blur, and Mia had yet to sleep any length of time. Short bursts of shut-eye here and there, whether she realized it or not, were all she got.
Whatever Jared did to re-route a helicopter worked. She heard whispers that another team needed it as bad, and she hoped they survived. But it didn’t keep her from thanking God they were choppered out of that godforsaken jungle.
Her fingers interlaced with Colby’s limp, nonreactive fingers. He was in a coma. A helicopter ride to a field hospital, then a private jet ride, and Colby was still out, under medical supervision, and scaring the shit out of her.
Brock, who had some sort of medical training, monitored him on their supersonic trip back up to the US. He wasn’t a doctor, but Mia could tell he was the Titan go-to-guy for all things health related. She was also convinced he had more practical experience than the collective knowledge at the field hospital in somewhere, South America. Hospital was a very generous term. But they were gracious to Colby, so she kept her mouth shut.
A red medevac chopper stood on the ready, as they landed and taxied on American soil. She watched out the oval airplane window. Their flight crew jumped out and scurried to open the backside of the transport helicopter.
She looked back into the belly of their plane. Titan’s jet came with an exterior opening to allow the transportation of bedridden patients, similar to the backside of the medevac chopper. The opening hadn’t been immediately obvious to her, but they loaded Colby in through the side of the jet and directed her to a set of stairs.
Once inside, with a few moves of collapsible chairs, his gurney was locked into place. Nondescript hooks on the wall held IV bags and a travel monitor.
Guess this wasn’t their first flight with a bedridden passenger. Who outfitted their private jet to function as a makeshift hospital room? Titan did, apparently. She wondered how that conversation went with the manufacturer. I’d like the medical transport option and a few gun racks.
The medevac crew wore air suits with arm patches. They boarded the plane like old habit. They whispered to Brock, facing away from her. She couldn’t hear what they said. Jared stood with the men, listening and nodding. A moment later, they moved to Colby’s bed and opened the hatch. Clicks sounded as the gurney released from its holds. One man grabbed the IV and monitors, while the others were ready to lower him away from her.
Emotion choked her. This was where the crazy adventure stopped. Where they’d part, and she’d have to catch up with Colby later. Jared would tell her where he was going. She was sure of it. He couldn’t be that terrible.
A cough caught her attention. Jared pointed at her. “This is Mia. She goes where he goes. Tell whoever you need to.”
Mia’s mouth dropped and hung slack-jawed. Her thoughts of gratitude scrambled to form before she pulled it together to mouth thank you. She didn’t have the energy to do anything more, but his look of acknowledgement said she didn’t need to. His eyes were very expressive. Did he know about that chink in his tough guy armor?
She stayed with the medevac crew as they loaded Colby up and ran him from the plane to the chopper. Immediately, they were airborne again. Not flying high, but they moved forward like a hurricane blast.
A crew member gave her headphones. It muffled the dull roar from the chopper blades. When the pilot talked to the hospital, it sounded so formal—their estimated time of arrival, Colby’s condition, and his vitals.
Mia watched out the window, not wanting to hear his reality. The farther away they flew, the more the Titan team became tiny action figures trudging to their waiting trucks and SUVs. Just another day in the life of those guys. Parking their vehicles at a private airstrip to go battle evil, dodge bullets, and save the day.
One truck remained—Colb
y’s—and she focused on it until it was out of sight.
What a crazy life. It should’ve scared the hell out of her, but it didn’t. He’d pull out of this. No problem. He’d be up, ready, and waiting for another chance to chase down the bad guys. She laughed. Tangle. He loved that word. He wanted to tangle with the bad guys. Always looking for the righteous fight. This was how he earned a well-paid living, doing right in the shadowy face of malevolence. His job was an intrinsic part of him, which made her proud. He was her body-armor-clad dark knight. A silent hero. The man wagered his life in high stakes combat games. He had the training and the know-how. She’d seen that in action. He was careful and deliberative. Tough as he was smart.
When he busted out of his coma, she’d tell him how she felt. She was proud, accepting, and in love.
In love.
Her blood thumped in her neck. Her mouth went dry. When had that crept up? He was sexy and strong, with a tender heart and a caring soul. She trusted him. Believed in him. But in love with him? Love was a deep personal attachment. A profound affection. Love was something she hadn’t thought possible in her situation.
But, yes, she loved him.
And, surprise, surprise, it wasn’t a scary realization. Rather, it was warm and calming. Centering. She was secure and stable with him. When he awoke, those would be the first words out of her mouth. She might even shout them, shaking him completely awake at the first sign of stirrings. Until then, all she could do was hold his lifeless hand, as they floated through the air.
Exhausting minutes later, she heard the approach in her headphones before they landed at the top of a hospital tower. Nurses stood by, ready for their arrival, heads down and hair blowing, as the chopper hovered over the red and white painted landing zone. The flight crew disembarked, and the hospital nurses took over. Everyone moved fast, checking monitors, bags, and wires.
They rushed into an elevator, and Mia pressed against the wall. No one spoke to her. She was invisible in the midst of chaos. The doors opened, and they rolled into a quiet hallway, then a private suite. Such a whirlwind. She didn’t know what to say or who to thank. Each person placated her with a pitying smile as they left her alone in the room. Well, not alone. Colby was in bed. The only noise breaking the silence between them was the beeping of machines.
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