His steps were shortened as his back spasmed from the exertion of digging for days.
Rylee had her arms around his neck and rolled toward his chest, keeping her weight tight, which made things easier.
It would be easiest if she were over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, but the hell he was going to do that. This is where he wanted her, pressed against his heart.
As they reached the village edge, Bravo was gathering along with a few WorldCares responders. Dakota recognized their leader, George.
From up the road, McLeod, the shithead, covered in plaster dust, stumbled forward.
“McLeod,” Dakota told Rylee. “That’s the last of the Bravo protectees.”
“They’re protecting him?”
“As far as the U.S. airport, they are. The Secret Service will be waiting for him. For now, Rylee, he’s just an American citizen. He’s not a criminal. He has nothing to do with counterfeiting.”
“Got it. We don’t need him running.”
George stepped forward, “Rylee, are you okay?”
“Fine. Little problem with my leg, that’s all.” She patted Dakota’s chest. “So I hitched a ride. Is our team okay?”
“Just another day on the job. We’ll keep working on getting that child out. When it’s daylight, we’ll assess the camp.”
“Can you reach into my pack and take out the cash?” she asked. “You may need to wheel and deal to get a ride out to the train and get hold of fresh supplies.”
Dakota let Rylee’s legs hang long as he held her to his chest, and George accessed the backpack.
That she was considering practical next steps was a testament to hersangfroid.
Once the pack was zipped again, Dakota scooped Rylee back into his arms and turned to Ares. “Do we have a plan?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rylee
Friday
The plan had been easy.
Anti-climactic.
Ares had purchased a pickup from a man who had been working to dig his fellow villagers from the rubble. Team Bravo had transportation during their mission.
Dakota had placed her in the passenger seat as if she were made of glass.
This wasn’t how she’d been treated in her life, as precious.
It was interesting. Rylee could get used to it as long as it didn’t come with the expectations that she was weak.
Ares was at the wheel, focused on driving by moonlight over the road toward the highway where McKayla’s jet had landed and was waiting.
Dakota and Tank were in the back with the others.
Onto the jet they climbed.
Off they flew.
Rylee and Dakota parted ways at Heathrow.
