Thank fuck we reached her in time.
“Focus on my voice, Enya,” Rowan urged, weaving the words between her shallow breaths. “You did something mighty brave back there. Not everyone can find their way out like that.” He watched her unravel slowly, the tension leaking away as the drug edged from her veins. The steady drip mirrored the steady beat of the rotors, both promising forward motion, away from the jungle and towards the world she left behind.
“What were you?” Her voice was a whisper, threaded with a bone-deep weariness.
“Doesn’t matter what or how I am. What matters is I’m getting you home.” He shifted, blocking the worst of the noise and movement from Enya with his body. The fluids and meds had dulled the panic in her eyes, but her breath still hitched when the chopper banked hard. His thumb traced circles over the back of her hand. He remembered Joel had done the same for Gael. The days following his brother’s rescue had exposed his twin and Joel’s relationship. He could still remember the defiance in his brother-in-law’s eyes as he silently dared Rowan to have a problem with it.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Grounding him in the now.’ Joel had replied. ‘I don’t give a fuck how much SERE training and shit he has. Right now, all he needs to know is that we’re between him and the rest of the world.’
‘I’ve always stood between him and the rest of the world.’
‘Yup,’ Joel had agreed, ‘and now you have me to hold the line with you. You got a problem with that?’
‘Hell no.’ He didn’t care who his twin loved, as long as that person loved him back just as fiercely. Which he had to allow, it appeared Joel did. ‘But you get to be the one to tell momma.’
‘I can handle your momma.’
Rowan had snorted because he wasn’t sure there was anyone on the planet who could handle his and Gael’s mom. “Good luck with that.’
Enya made a keening noise that dragged him from his memories. Her pupils were still too wide, her focus sliding toward the open door where the jungle spun beneath them.
“Look at me.” Rowan tugged her chin toward him. “Right here. Just me.” She gave him a weak nod in response, and he decided that was good enough for now.
“You know the fastest I ever saw a horse run?” Rowan kept talking, filling the space before the silence could claw its way in. “Quarter-mile track out in Oklahoma. Mare named Whiskey Jane, damn near broke the clock. Your Rain’s got that same fire.” Her brow wrinkled in confusion, so he hurried to clarify. “We saw the tapes of your run in El Paso.”
Her fingers twitched in his. “You—you watched?”
“Your daddy showed us. He wanted us to know what we were hunting for.” He let the corner of his mouth twitch, just enough to give her something to latch onto.“When all he had to do was tell us your Rain was born on my ranch.”
Her forehead did that cute little wrinkle thing again before the barest ghost of a smile lit a spark behind her eyes. “You’re from Stronghold Ranch?”
“Yes, ma’am, we’re Stronghold.” He figured she didn’t need to know the intricacies of the favors he’d called in or that half the people on the helo didn’t technically exist anymore to stage her rescue. “Like I said, your Rain was foaled out by my momma.”
Grif approached and crouched beside them with a syringe in his hand. “Its just a mild painkiller.” He told him, “Enough to take the edge off, not enough to fog up her brain.”
Enya recoiled, her shoulders slamming back against the bulkhead.
Rowan caught her wrist before she could yank the IV line free. “Easy. It’s just some pain reliever, I promise.” He held Grif’s gaze until the man nodded, then reached for the bottle and a fresh syringe. He turned the bottle so Enya could see the label. “See that? I promise it’s nothing weird or illegal, just a pain reliever.”
Her chest rose and fell fast, but she let him guide her arm back down. The needle slid in, adding the medication to the IV line, and within moments her breath shuddered out as the tension bled from her shoulders.
Thank fuck. Everything about me ached just looking at the pain she’s in.
The helicopter lurched, tilting toward descent, and Rowan braced his boot against the deck, keeping her steady as they landed at a covert airstrip on the outskirts of the Colombian countryside. The chopper’s ramp lowered before the rotors had fully spooled down, and waiting on the tarmac was a sleek Gulfstream G550, its engines already whirring. Rowan had no idea where the heck Rock and Grif got access to a private jet. But damn, he wouldn’t mind having one of those in his own arsenal.
“Time to move,” Gael announced.
No shit, bro.
Enya’s grip on his hand tightened. “Where?”
“New ride. A plane. It’ll be quieter than this old bird, and maybe you’ll be able to sleep a bit,” Rowan said. “It’s taking us back to the US.” He helped her to her feet. She leaned on him heavily, her body language screaming exhaustion and distrust of everything from the ground beneath her feet to his men. He kept himself between her and the rest of the team as they deplaned, a human shield against her fear of everything. The guys understood, giving them space. They moved with a purpose that was both tactical and considerate as they handled the transfer of Maria’s body to the jet’s cargo hold.
On the plush leather seats of the jet, Enya curled into a ball with a blanket pulled up to her chin. Rowan took the seat opposite, his knees almost touching hers. The rest of the team settled in. Rowan barely noticed the familiar sounds of mags being unloaded and gear being stowed, filling the cabin until he noticed Enya flinch every time something banged, clanged, or scraped off something else.
“It’s just my men securing their gear.” He reassured her, but he wasn’t entirely sure she was with it enough to understand him.
