Page 14 of Jay Bird

Things had gone sideways pretty damn fast.

One minute, Snow had been walking around looking ridiculously proud of his woman while the rest of them ate free food, gave Nova shit about voluntarily opening a place where people paid her to kick their asses, and generally enjoyed a rare evening when nobody was shooting at them.

Next, Riley had bolted toward the front doors after spotting someone outside.

Jay Bird had moved on instinct when the woman, Willow, as Riley had called her, had collapsed. He had lunged forward and caught her before her head could hit the pavement, one arm wrapping securely around her while his other hand steadied the little girl she had been holding.

He couldn’t believe this was the woman who had helped Riley escape Chen Pham.

That knowledge had hit him cold and immediate—but it hadn’t changed the fact that she was unconscious in his arms and a child was clinging to him like he was the only solid thing left in her world.

He had braced himself for the child to scream, to flinch away from him like most kids did when a stranger got too close, but instead she surprised him when she grabbed him. Her tiny hands fisted into his shirt as if she’d already decided he was the only solid thing in a world that had just fallen apart.

That alone had thrown him. Kids didn’t usually gravitate toward Jay Bird. Hell, most adults didn’t.

He wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy. He didn’t smile unless something was genuinely funny. He had no interest in small talk, and generally preferred silence over listening to people fill empty space simply because they couldn’t tolerate it.

The guys constantly gave him shit about it, but he didn’t care.

But this kid apparently hadn’t gotten the memo that Jay Bird wasn’t supposed to be approachable.

She couldn’t have been more than two, with light brown hair falling messily around her tear-streaked face and huge brown eyes that looked far too frightened for someone so damn small. She had taken one look at him, clutched his shirt even tighter, and whispered words he suspected were going to stay with him for a long fucking time.

Bad man hurt momma.

Something unsettling shifted inside him, and he didn’t have a name for it.

Jay Bird had spent years perfecting the art of not letting shit get to him. He compartmentalized better than almost anyone on Bravo Team, and for good reason. Feelings complicated things.

His teammates figured he was just wired differently, and Jay Bird never bothered correcting them. He let them believe it because it was easier that way.

Yet now he looked down at the unconscious woman in his arms, then at the child practically burrowing into his chest, and the ice he had carefully built around certain parts of himself developed a crack he wasn’t prepared to examine.

Willow looked like exhaustion had finally won.

Up close, he noticed things he hadn’t caught when she’d first appeared outside the gym. She was too thin, like she hadn’t been properly fed in a long time, and there were deep shadows under her eyes that went far beyond a few bad nights of sleep. Most of the bruises on her face were fading, but not enough to hide the truth, telling him someone had hurt her recently.

“Ambulance is coming,” Riley said from several feet away, her phone pressed to her ear.

Duke, Bravo team’s corpsman, crouched beside Willow while Stitch, Alpha team’s corpsman, moved around to her other side.

“Jay, keep her exactly where she is,” Duke instructed.

“I’m not moving,” said in a tone that made Duke give him a quick look before returning his attention to Willow.

Stitch reached carefully for her wrist, checking her pulse while Duke assessed her breathing and responsiveness. Neither seemed overly alarmed, which helped keep the knot in Jay Bird’s chest from tightening any further.

“Pulse is slightly elevated,” Stitch said.

“She looks fucking exhausted,” Duke replied. “Maybe dehydration, lack of food.”

“She said she escaped. She’s probably been running for God knows how long,” Riley added as she finished giving the dispatcher their location.

Jay Bird’s jaw tightened as he looked down again, as Willow’s head rested against the crook of his arm, her face turned slightly toward his chest. There was something about seeing her like this that pissed him off on a level he couldn’t explain. He didn't know this woman. He didn’t know anything about her beyond her name and the obvious fact that Riley knew her.

Yet his instincts had already made a decision his brain hadn’t been consulted about—she was under his protection, and so was the kid. He would figure out the why later.

A sharp gasp came from somewhere behind them.