Think, Devon. Think!
Her main chute was a lost cause, so her only hope was to get rid of it and then pull her reserve.
She keyed into the radio. “Gonna do a cutaway.” Without waiting for an answer, Devon steeled herself and pulled the cord that would cut her main chute.
With a wrench it tore free and was whipped away. Immediately Devon lost what tiny bit of lift she had and started to free fall again.
This time she was ready. Good body position—head up, arms and legs akimbo. Once she was stable, she traced her fingers down her harness to the handle for her reserve chute...and pulled it.
If this doesn’t work, it’s lights-out for me.
The chute sprang open, and Devon jerked to a sudden halt, the sound of the rushing wind in her ears giving way to a blessed silence. Her heart in her throat, she looked up. Both sides of the parachute were fat with air, the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.
For a moment she closed her eyes, letting the sweet relief wash over her and banish the fear. Then she keyed into the group net: “Cutaway successful.”
Rhys’s voice sounded a little bit shaky as he croaked in reply, “Copy that. See you on the ground.”
She pulled on the steering lines, and her canopy responded, sending her into a wide, sweeping turn. Below her, her teammates were landing one by one, grounding their chutes and then dragging them out of the way before turning to look up into the sky.
They were waving their arms wildly at her, cheering her on.
Devon focused on the landing zone. By all that was holy, after this, she was gonna hit that motherfucker square on. As she drifted down, she finessed the steering lines. She kept her head up, eyes focused on the horizon, and bent her knees.
Light as a feather.
Just as her boots touched earth, a dust devil, a rogue gust of wind, swirled by. Her parachute was instantly turned into a sail and it yanked her several feet back into the air. The microburst died as fast as it’d appeared, dropping Devon like a stone and sending her tumbling ass over teakettle. Her helmeted head slammed into a rock...
...and everything went black.
Chapter Seven
Rhys reached Devon’s side before her body had even rolled to a stop.
“Help me!” he cried. Several guys were there in a flash, and Rhys positioned them at her shoulders, hips and legs. “Turn her on my count.”
Rhys held her head and neck steady as he counted backward from three to one, and in one smooth motion, they turned her onto her back.
“What do we do now, Doc?”
“Cut that thing off her.” Rhys waved his hand at the pack weighing down her chest. A knife blade flashed as Aaron yanked it from the sheath on his thigh and cut the straps before heaving it aside.
The rest of the guys gathered in a semicircle around them. They were quiet as Rhys eased her helmet from her head and ran his fingers through her hair, looking for an injury. Her chest rose and fell in a reassuring rhythm, and when he felt her pulse, it beat strong and steady.
“Need to check for broken bones,” he muttered. “Someone call a bus.”
Smudge pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped away to speak urgently into it.
Rhys ran his hands along one of Devon’s thighs and down to her ankle before repeating the motion on the other side. “Hold her ankles steady,” he instructed Matt. “Put her heels together, toes up.”
They were in perfect alignment. No broken leg. No broken pelvis.
With swift fingers, Rhys unbuttoned her uniform blouse and skimmed his palms along her ribs. He was pulling her T-shirt out of her pants to palpate her belly for internal bleeding when he heard a tiny intake of air.
Rhys looked up into Devon’s face and smiled. “I think you’re gonna be okay...” he started to say, then froze.
Devon’s eyes were open, but they were staring at something Rhys couldn’t see, the usual warm brown almost black with terror.
“No,” she breathed.
Unsure of what was going on, Rhys patted her hip. “Devon—”
“No!” The one word was tortured, seemingly dragged up from the depths of her soul.
Before Rhys could react, Devon balled up her fist and swung it at his face. He ducked, but she still managed to deal him a glancing blow to his ear. He grunted as pain exploded in his head.
Keening like a wounded animal, Devon kicked wildly out at Matt, who let go of her and fell square on his ass, his mouth open in shock.
“Back off,” Rhys yelled at the guys as several of them moved to restrain her, trying to help. “Just back off.”
Her hand scrabbled desperately about her thigh, searching for something. Her knife. The tumble she’d taken had ripped the sheath right off her leg. It was lying not far from Rhys, so he picked it up and tossed it to her.
“Devon...” he whispered.
At the sound of her name, Devon blinked, awareness flooding back into her face.
Smudge jogged back over. “Ambulance called. Is she gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Physically, at least. God, Devon, what happened to you?
Devon was calmer now. The guys had crouched down and were watching her solemnly.
At last she scrubbed one hand over the lower part of her face. “I’m sorry,” she rasped. “Forgot where I was for a moment.”
Nobody said anything, and Devon looked at Rhys. “Am I still in one piece?”
“From what I can tell.” Rhys kept his voice steady, although adrenaline was still roiling in his gut. “No broken bones, but I’d like you to go get checked out. Any time there’s a loss of consciousness—”
“Okay.” Devon didn’t argue. “My head is hurting like a bitch.”
Everyone fell silent, until Shane said quietly, “That was one hell of a recovery up there. Good job.”
“Yeah, way to battle. That was awesome.”
The guys grew animated as they discussed Devon’s free fall, interspersing it with stories of their own, and soon they got up and wandered away to gather their gear and give Devon some privacy.
She sat there, fiddling with her knife, until at last she looked over at Rhys with a bone-deep weariness on her face. “I’m sorry. When I came to, all I knew was that your hands were under my shirt and someone was holding down my legs.”
A lump rose into his throat. “Devon, I—”
“You weren’t doing anything wrong. It was just...”
When her voice trailed off, Rhys said softly, “A flashback?”
“Yeah.” Devon gazed at him steadily. “I told you Mullet’s facts were true.”
Rhys flinched, a mixture of grief and rage boiling through him. The words Who was it? bubbled to his lips, but he bit them back.
Just then came the sound of swiftly moving feet crunching along the path. Rhys moved out of the way and hovered nearby as the paramedics rushed to do their assessments.
“We’re gonna want to take you in for a CT scan,” one of them said to her. “Make sure there’s nothin’ goin’ on inside that noggin of yours, no internal bleeding.”
“It was just a hard landing. I’m fine,” Devon protested feebly, but Rhys was grateful she didn’t argue any more than that.
He walked with her to the ambulance and waited while she climbed inside.
“Want me to come with?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“I’ll be fine.” She paused. “Come find me when I’m released, though?”
“You got it.” With a pat to her booted foot, Rhys stepped back and let the paramedic close the doors. The ambulance rumbled off in a belch of exhaust.
For the rest of the day, the team worked on packing up their gear, and it was a subdued group that at last trudged into the training center meeting room to do the after-action report. When it came time to discuss Devon’s mishap, Rhys glared at the lead instructor, who wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Someone should’ve talked to her,” was all he said.
Back at the t
ransient quarters that evening, Rhys jogged over to tap on Devon’s door, unable to keep from letting out a huge sigh of relief when she opened it.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She leaned against the doorframe wearily. “Yeah. A mild concussion, some bumps and bruises. I’m gonna be fine.” She looked up at him, her lips quirked. “Thanks to you.”
“Me?” Rhys propped his elbow right above her head, his other hand on his hip. “What’d I do?”
“Helped me focus,” she said simply. “When you asked me to say altitude, I realized I was still high enough to do something about my situation. Up till then I was in full-blown panic mode.”
Why hadn’t he noticed how pretty her eyes were before? The color of melting chocolate, they were thickly lashed, and currently shining with a warmth that made Rhys go a tiny bit weak at the knees.
Clearing his throat, he murmured, “Glad I could help. But it was all you up there, Devon.”
Her quirk of the lips turned into a full-blown smile. It crinkled up her nose and revealed the tiniest of dimples.
Jesus, she’s cute.
The memory of her palpable horror when she woke up to find Rhys’s hands on her sliced through him. Straightening from his slouch, he took an unobtrusive step back. “I, uh, I’m sorry about—”
Triggering you. Taking you back there.
Her cool fingers brushing over his forearm forestalled his stammering words. “Don’t be silly. You were just doing your job.”
She gave him a light squeeze before dropping her hand to step back inside her room. “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”
“Another jump.” Rhys met her eyes. “And no one will blame you for sitting this one out.”
“Aww, screw that,” Devon scoffed. “Gotta get back on that horse, right? I’ll see you on the plane.”
With a wink, she closed the door gently, leaving Rhys tingling with admiration and a little something else he didn’t want to examine too closely.
He wandered aimlessly down the breezeway toward where Smudge had his hips propped against the railing, his voice low and intimate as he talked to his wife, their spat apparently resolved. Pulling out his own phone, Rhys stared at the notification-free lock screen. Lani hadn’t called, and he wasn’t going to call her.
What would he say to her anyway? Their training methods and tactics were classified, and he’d do almost anything to avoid talking about Tyler. What did that leave? Not much. In fact, nothing.
I guess that means it really is over. And now I don’t have anyone to call.
His stomach churning with a toxic combination of grief and loneliness, Rhys was about to put the phone away when a door slammed on the second deck and Aaron jogged down the stairs toward the vending machines.
“Hey, ’sup,” Aaron started to say, and then he caught sight of Rhys’s face. With a soft exclamation, he trotted over to pull him into a fierce hug. “It’s okay, Peanut Butter. It’s okay.”
Rhys couldn’t help but clutch on to him, the sound of Aaron’s old childhood nickname for him bringing tears to his eyes.
“I don’t have anyone, man,” he choked out. “She was my only family, the only one who cared.”
“C’mon now, you know that’s not true.” Aaron cupped the back of Rhys’s head and pressed their foreheads together. “You have me. And Sarah. My mom and dad. You have every single one of these guys here. You are not, repeat, you are not alone. You’ve been so wrapped up in Lani for so long, you’ve lost sight of that.”
“When Tyler died, she needed me so bad...” Rhys forced down the sob that was threatening to break free. Lani’s brother had come home from work early one wintry day and cajoled her into building a snowman with him. After that, he’d made her some hot chocolate, kissed the top of her head, then went down into the basement and shot himself.
“I didn’t know how to be needed like that back then,” Rhys whispered. “And now I don’t know how not to be.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Aaron vowed. “I promise you, we’ll figure it out.”
Before Rhys could reply, there came a booming “Hey!” from right behind them, and Rhys and Aaron both jumped when a couple of arms like steel bands wrapped around their shoulders.
“I don’t have a clue what’s going on here,” Smudge declared, “but I want in.”
With a watery laugh, Rhys moved aside to let him into their little huddle.
“I think we need something more. FNG!” Without missing a beat, Smudge reached out and hauled a startled Matt close.
Rhys wanted to laugh at the look on his face. “Where’d you come from?”
Matt’s eyes were wide as he looked from Smudge to Rhys and back again. “Um, a soda run?” he replied in the cautious tone of someone not quite sure he wasn’t being fucked with. “What’re we doing?”
“Man sandwich!” With that, Smudge tightened his arms and mashed all four of them together, with the shorter Matt in the middle of their impromptu group hug.
They were jostling him around when suddenly Rhys caught sight of Devon watching them from a short distance away, her lips quirked in inquiry. Before he could really think it through, he extended his hand to her.
Her gaze flew to his as she studied his expression. Then oh-so-slowly she stepped closer, reached out and laid her fingers lightly over his.
Rhys didn’t grip on to her, or pull her in. All he did was give her the gentlest of squeezes, and he felt like he’d won the lottery when she squeezed him back.
“See?” Aaron whispered in his ear. “Family.”
* * *
Early the next morning, Devon ran down the stairs toward the parking lot, her nervousness about the upcoming jump nothing compared to the anticipation of seeing Rhys again.
The fact was, she liked him. A lot. It’d been a long time since she’d felt comfortable being alone with a man, but he was very easy to talk to, and he wasn’t focused on how fast he could get into her pants.
When the guys came into view, Devon slowed to a walk. Rhys’s unmistakable red hair gleamed a burnished copper in the sunlight, and in his desert cammies and boots, his weapon and pack at his feet, he looked equal parts capable and dangerous. It made her belly quiver just the tiniest bit.
When he caught sight of her, he gave her a smile, and the quivers turned to butterflies.
“Morning,” he said. “You ready for this?”
“Ready,” she assured him. “Let’s do it.”
Once at the training center, the lead instructor took her aside. “Visualize each jump. Walk through everything in your mind—the way your gear should feel, your exit, what you do when you’re under canopy. Go over the emergency procedures and practice that shit until it’s all muscle memory. You got this.”
After that, Rhys worked to help her streamline her gear for fit and comfort, and when they finally boarded the aircraft, Devon was as confident as she’d ever been before a jump.
During takeoff and the climb to altitude, she sat quietly, envisioning every move she’d make from there to the ground. She studied Shane, who was sitting directly across from her. According to Matt he hated this, but hell if Devon could tell. His eyes were closed, his hands lying relaxed along his thighs, his head bobbing with the movement of the plane. What was he thinking about? What did he do to psych himself up?
She resolved to ask him at her earliest opportunity.
Matt was also watching him, an unguarded longing on his face that renewed Devon’s curiosity in their story. What’d happened between them? They made such an interesting couple—Shane, tall and movie-star gorgeous, and Matt, a compact bundle of muscle and intensity. For the most part they’d been ignoring each other, except for whatever communication was necessary during training, but Devon could sense that the tension was building.
Something was eventually gonna give way, and with a twin mixture of shame and amusement, she just hoped she had a ringside seat to the fireworks.
“Five minutes.”
The jumpmaste
r’s voice echoed in her earpiece, and with a loud, creaking groan, the ramp started to lower. Everyone got up to shuffle into position, Shane taking the lead once again. Rhys tapped her on the shoulder and gave her a wink and a thumbs-up.
“You got this,” he mouthed. “Get some.”
Devon’s exit was a thing of beauty. Back arched, head up, she flung herself into the void. When her feet touched Earth again, she let out a whoop of pure exultation. Guys jogged over for high fives, pride and admiration written all over their faces.
“Way to get back up there and crush that motherfucker,” Smudge exclaimed. “Hooyah!”
She could only grin like a fool.
It was a given they’d all go out to celebrate. A tremor of nervousness went through Devon as she stood in front of her room’s full-length mirror a short time later. Hanging out with a bunch of drunk men was something to be avoided at all costs.
Don’t let the fear run your life. Go out, have fun, be alert.
And carry a big-ass knife.
With one last glance in the mirror, Devon strode from the room.
* * *
It was a loud, boisterous group that made their way over to a local bar not far from the airfield. There was a live country band playing, and several of Devon’s teammates soon had partners and were tearing up the dance floor.
Matt glowered at Shane. “What a clown. He isn’t supposed to be having so much fun.”
Devon sipped her club soda with lime and studied Shane, who was attempting to do a halting two-step with an attractive blonde woman. She couldn’t contain her curiosity anymore. “So what happened with you two?”
Deliberately turning his back to the dance floor, Matt picked up his own drink, a root beer in a large, frosty mug. “Well, one night I opened my mouth and a whole bunch of stupid shit came out.”
He sounded so disgusted that Devon couldn’t help but snort. “It must’ve been some really stupid shit.”
“Oh, it was.” Matt dragged his finger through the condensation on the side of his glass. “I outdid myself.”
Keeping a Warrior Page 9
