“West, that’s Nat. Nat, that’s West. Former Navy SEAL and all around badass,” Graham says.
West gives me the once-over. “You injured?”
Before I can tell him no, Doc clears his throat. “Probable concussion. Shot to her thigh. Cranial lacerations?—”
“I’mfine. You’re the one with the hole in his chest.” My voice cracks, and I stare down at my hands. They’re still stained with Doc’s blood.
The SEAL pulls a harness from a small pack at his waist. “Put this on while I secure the Doc. Unless you’ve never used one of these before?”
“I got it.” Dammit. From the look on his face, I probably should have played dumb. How many civilians know how to put on a full hoist harness?
West rummages through his pack until he finds a thick roll of stretchy tape. “Sit him up,” he tells Graham. “We need to make sure that tube doesn’t come out in transport.”
The two work together, winding the bright blue gauze around Doc’s chest half a dozen times. With each pass they make over the tube, Doc looks worse, until I’m about to yell at them to stop.
“You doin’ okay, Doc?” West asks when they finish.
“Hell…no. Hurts like a motherfucker.” The words are too weak. Too slow.
West cracks a wry smile. “Just be grateful we didn’t come by boat. The ride back would be miserable.” He moves to Doc’s feet. “On three. Roll him onto his right side.”
The SEAL slides the litter under Doc’s body. He and Graham work in tandem, covering Doc with a blanket, then securing one strap after another over his shins, thighs, waist, and chest. By the time they’re done, I don’t think Doc can move at all.
“Got an anchor on this thing?” Graham asks as West climbs back out of the plane and the two position the litter across the two front seats.
“Already dropped.” Pain roughens Doc’s tone. “Not gonna matter. I’m…in the middle of a shipping lane. Someone’ll have her…towed by morning. Or…sink her.”
Graham chuckles. “Doc, we’re a full-service rescue operation.” He winks at me. God, the ladies must love him. He’s got that wholesome, boy-next-door look about him, with the muscles of a fighter. “Kidnap and ransom, rescue, retrieval, pet sitting, housecleaning, window repair…and towing.”
The rope jerks twice, and Graham pats Doc’s shoulder. “Up you go.”
The litter slides out of the plane, leaving me with a sense of loss I’m wholly unprepared for. Suddenly, everything hurts. I’m a little dizzy and sink down onto the floor next to a pool of Doc’s blood.
“You’re next,” Graham says. “Nat?” The young man offers me his hand. I stare at it for so long, worry furrows his brow. “You’re worse off than you let us believe. What hurts the most?”
My heart.
“I’ll live. Doc needs us to go. Right now.”
I let Graham pull me to my feet, blinking hard to force away the darkness creeping along the edges of my vision.
He eyes me, his gaze lingering on my hip. And the strap digging into the wound. Much longer, and I won’t be able to hide the pain. I focus on the goosebumps covering my arms and the cold air tousling my hair.
After what feels like forever, the young man nods. “Okay, then. Got to get you clipped in.” He snags my duffel bag. “This yours?”
Lunging, I snatch it from his hands and clutch it to my chest. “I need that.”
“Wasn’t suggesting we leave it behind. But I can take it up for you. Along with Doc’s ruck.”
“No.” I can’t let that bag out of my sight. If anyone gets a look at the passports, the wads of cash, and the pistol inside, they’ll know I’m not who I say I am.
Plus, my favorite sweater’s in there. Myonlysweater now. I’ll never see the house on Blakely with the rest of my clothes again.
“I mean, I can get it. You have enough to deal with,” I say. “Thank you.”
He stares me down for a long moment, but then cups his ear. “Roger that. Sending Nat up in sixty.” Helping me over the seats, he reaches for the rope with one hand, and the carabiner on my harness with the other. “Fair warning…it’s going to be bumpy. And loud.”
I almost tell him I’ve jumped out of a perfectly good helicopter before. Dozens of times, actually. But that would raise more questions, and once we get to Seattle, I need them to let me go. Or at least not care that I disappear.
