by Maya Banks
His teammates’ faces came into view as he neared the edge. Their expressions were tense as they hauled him the remaining distance. Diego pushed forward while Decker and Browning held tight to the rope and he took Grace from Rio’s grasp.
Free of her weight, Rio hoisted himself over the side and he rolled to his feet. Terrence let out a light huff, his only indication of the toll the rescue had taken on him. Rio quickly untied the rope and issued orders for his men to dispose of the bodies and then to be prepared to bug out.
They were in the middle of nowhere, no backup, no helo, their vehicles at least two miles away.
He strode to where Diego had laid Grace carefully on the ground and he dropped to his knees beside her.
He pushed the hair out of her face with gentle fingers and frowned at the deep shadows under her eyes, the paleness of her features, and the deep lines of fatigue etched into her forehead. Her expression was grim even in unconsciousness.
Not knowing what possessed him, he found himself leaning down to press his lips to her forehead.
You don’t give up, Grace. You’re safe now. I won’t hurt you and I won’t allow anyone else to do so either. I’m going to take you home.
SUNLIGHT warmed her face, though she was in the grip of a pervasive chill that was bone deep. It hurt to shiver and yet she couldn’t do anything else.
It was as if there were weights pressing over her eyelids, preventing them from opening. Or perhaps she simply lacked the strength to do the simplest tasks anymore.
Pain crept over her, through her, puzzling her with its intensity. It was new. Fresh. And then she remembered falling over the side, sure that death had finally come to claim her.
A soft moan escaped before she could call it back and she chastised herself for that momentary loss of control. Such a lapse could get her killed.
Grace. Grace.
It took her a moment to realize that the person calling her name wasn’t saying it aloud but in her mind. She recoiled, wanting nothing to do with the distant voice. And then she was surrounded by strength. Warmth. It flooded into her veins so comforting that it shook her to her core.
“Grace.”
This time it was said aloud. A deep, rough, slightly accented voice. Just a hint of another world, one she couldn’t place.
“Wake up, Grace. Let me see those gorgeous baby blues.”
Her brow wrinkled and she tried to process her surroundings. She was afraid to open her eyes. Afraid that she’d be right back in the hands of monsters, forced to do their bidding. The mere thought made her want to weep. She wasn’t strong enough to endure more.
A gentle hand stroked over her cheek and carefully pushed away her hair, tucking it over her ear. Such warmth and tenderness. It was like rain to a sun-parched desert. She soaked it up, desperate for any comfort.
It took everything she had to conquer her fear and open her eyes. Sunlight stabbed through her vision, momentarily blinding her.
“That’s it,” the man said in a low voice. “Come back to me, Grace. I need you to wake up so we can figure out how badly you’re hurt.”
At the mere mention of injuries, pain screamed through her body. Her eyes flew open and her lips parted. Her breath rushed out, her chest jerking violently with the effort.
Fear nearly paralyzed her when her gaze met with the dark eyes of a man staring intently at her. She let out a cry and tried to bolt, not even realizing that he was still holding her.
She tumbled to the ground, landing with a thud that knocked the breath from her and sent agony tearing through her body again.
The man above her cursed vehemently and he immediately knelt beside her, running those big hands over her fragile body.
“Damn it, Grace, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I won’t go back.”
She barely managed to stammer out the defiant vow. It hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe. She felt broken. Something was broken. Her ribs, an arm … She couldn’t even decipher what was wrong with her. There was simply too much to process.
She stared up at him in panic, knowing she didn’t possess the strength to escape. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She could do nothing to prevent him from taking her back.
A deep shudder rolled through her body and the tears that had threatened slowly slid down her cheeks.
“Grace, I want you to listen to me.”
His voice was calm and oddly soothing. The tone mesmerized her as did those dark eyes that refused to look away from her.
“My name is Rio. I’ve come to take you home. To Shea.”
Her pulse leapt and her throat tightened. “Shea?” she croaked. “Is she all right?”
What if it was a trap? What if he was using information about her sister to lull her into a false sense of security?
He touched her cheek, his fingers infinitely gentle on her skin. He didn’t look like a man who had an ounce of gentleness in him. He was big and menacing. A warrior.
Dark-skinned, like he’d spent many hours in the sun, uncaring of the consequences. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail at his nape and his eyes were as dark as night.
“I spoke to her myself,” he soothed. “I promised her I’d find you and protect you. We’re the good guys, Grace. I realize you may have a hard time believing that or trusting me, but we’re here to help you. Shea is safe and she wants very much to see you again. We’ve all been worried about you.”
More tears slid down her cheeks and a quiet sob hiccupped from her throat. “I don’t want her to see me like this.”
Something like understanding flashed in his eyes. He touched her face again, wiping at the moisture on her cheekbone.
“I need you to tell me where you’re hurt. We have to move you. We can’t stay in this location, but I need to know what we risk by moving you more than we already have.”
She glanced around, slowly taking in her surroundings for the first time. Her breath caught when she saw the others. Warriors. Like this man called Rio. Stern and forbidding. How was she to know she could trust them? What choice did she have?
They were away from where she’d fallen the night before. How had they managed to find her and how had she survived the fall? Her memory of the event was hazy. She could only remember that moment when she knew she would likely die.
She’d thought that a lot lately. Pondered her mortality as calmly as she might consider what shoes to wear. And yet she was here and alive. Broken but not defeated.
The men were facing away from where she and Rio were positioned. Watchful and wary. Guns up, their stances rigid as if they sensed danger in the very air.
“Grace,” Rio prompted. “Talk to me. I need to know how bad it is.”
She briefly closed her eyes and then reopened them, focusing once more on his face. She licked her lips. “I hurt.”
“I know you do,” he said quietly.
“The fall. I think I broke something.”
She centered her attention on her body, paying attention to where she hurt and how it differed from the residual pain of the endless torture she’d endured. Her breaths were strained. Shallow and painful.
“Ribs,” she managed to gasp out. “Think I have broken ribs. And my arm. It hurts but it’s growing numb. I can’t feel my fingers.”
“Yes, I can see,” Rio said as he carefully picked up her hand.
He turned his head and nodded at one of the men. She tensed when the big burly man closest to Rio hovered over her. He was a mountain. Arms bulging with muscles. He barely had a neck as thick as he was. Legs like tree trunks.
“She’s lost feeling in her fingers,” Rio said as if discussing something as mundane as the weather. “We’ll have to set the break.”
Her pulse exploded and she tried to sit up but Rio put a hand on her shoulder. “Be still, Grace.”
The command in his voice froze her in her tracks.
“Can you heal yourself?”
The idle curiosity in his voice baffled her. He was so calm.
Unruffled. He spoke of her abilities like they were the most natural things in the world. She glanced nervously between the two men, wondering if this was some kind of trap, though she couldn’t imagine what it could be.
The people who’d kept her captive knew well her abilities. They wouldn’t have to ask questions. Was this yet another faction who wanted to use her?
Panic was rising swiftly when Rio simply put his hand on her cheek and softly caressed. “Take deep breaths, okay? We’re going to help you. This is Terrence. He’s my second in command. That’s Diego right behind him. Diego acts as our medic when Donovan Kelly isn’t around to patch us up, but Terrence is going to set the break for you.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. She had no idea who any of these people were but Rio continued a steady stream of conversation, ignoring her befuddlement.
“This is going to hurt like a son of a bitch. I won’t lie to you. But I need you to be strong. If you scream, you’ll draw attention and that’s the last thing we need. I’m going to knot one of my shirts, and I want you to bite down on it as hard as you like. But don’t let out a sound. Can you do that?”
If he only knew how much she’d silently endured, he’d never ask that question. But she simply nodded, knowing that whatever they did wouldn’t touch what she’d already gone through.
He took out a T-shirt from his pack and began folding and knotting it into a long rope. “You didn’t answer my question. Can you heal yourself as you do others?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I mean it’s different, but I do heal faster. But there’s been so much …“ She closed her eyes, holding back more tears. “I don’t know … “
Rio spoke in low, soothing tones. “It’s okay, Grace. I’m going to make sure you get out of this okay.”
Something in his voice settled her. Maybe it was the calm promise or the absolute conviction. Some of the fear faded and she relaxed, letting out her breath in a whispery rush.
“That’s my girl,” Rio murmured.
He carefully placed the shirt between her teeth, feathered his hand over her jaw and then eased her mouth shut over the material.
“Be strong.”
She closed her eyes and nodded, not wanting to see what was coming.
Strong hands gripped her arm in a surprisingly gentle manner. She could instantly tell the difference, knew that it was Terrence who held her hand.
And then he simply pulled and twisted, all at the same time. His strength took her completely by surprise. Her eyes flew open and her teeth bit savagely into the shirt. Her body bowed with the instant flash of pain. As she lay panting, her nostrils flaring with the ragged breaths she tried to suck in, a sense of relief settled over her.
Her arm ached from the manipulation, but the constant red hot pain had subsided. Diego stepped in and quickly bound her arm, using two sturdy saplings one of the other men had fetched. He wound strips of cloth tightly around the sticks so it was impossible for her to move her arm.
Rio pulled the knotted shirt from her mouth. “Better?”
She nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.
“Okay, this is what’s going to happen. We have to move and I can’t spare the manpower necessary to keep you immobile. We don’t have a stretcher, which means I’m going to carry you out while my men surround us and provide cover. With a broken arm and ribs plus God only knows what else you’ve got going on, there’s no easy way to do this. It’s going to suck.”
She tried to smile at the blunt way he put it but her lips trembled and she gave up with a sigh.
“I’ll need at least one hand free so I can hold a gun and protect us both. Terrence will secure you to my back. We once carried a teammate’s wife out of the jungle just like I’m going to carry you, so it’ll work. I don’t want you to worry. If you don’t trust in anything else, you trust in the fact that we’re going to get you out of these mountains.”
The unwavering conviction in his voice gave her the first hope she’d experienced in many weeks.
“I won’t let you give up,” Rio continued. “I know you hurt. I can only imagine what those bastards did to you. But you aren’t giving up, Grace. You’re a fighter. Your sister’s a fighter.”
Tears shimmered in her vision again, making Rio grow hazy. “I can’t talk to her. I’m not sure I can talk to anyone … like before I mean.”
Rio leaned over, his face close to hers. “You’ll get it back. I heard you last night. It’s there. You just have to heal both in body and spirit.”
“Who are you?” she whispered around the knot in her throat.
He smiled then, white teeth flashing against dark skin. “I’m the man who’s going to get you the hell out of here and then I’m going to hunt down those sons of bitches who hurt you and gut every last one of them.”
She shivered at the menace in his voice but was oddly comforted by the savage vow.
“We need to roll, Rio,” Terrence said, startling her. She’d forgotten his presence. Had forgotten all of the men standing in close proximity.
Rio nodded and then stood, towering over her. She suddenly felt very small and insignificant and extremely vulnerable as she lay huddled on the ground, surrounded by the warriors with death in their eyes.
This time Terrence knelt by her side, his voice quiet and she suspected purposely gentle so as not to scare the bejebus out of her. It was a little late for that …
“All right, Miss Grace. This is what’s going to happen. The men are going to fashion a sling of sorts that will secure you to Rio’s back. I’m going to lift you very carefully. I’ll try not to hurt you.”
She nodded her understanding.
He smiled at her, and she decided he was an extremely handsome man despite his fierce appearance. Moreover, she believed him when he said he’d try not to hurt her.
He slid his arms underneath her body. “Deep breath.”
She sucked in, closed her eyes and he lifted upward. She was amazed at the ease in which he picked her up. She opened her eyes and watched him. There was no evident strain. Just calm focus.
Diego appeared on her other side.
“Diego’s going to hook his arm underneath your leg,” Terrence explained. “I’m going to take the other.”
She appreciated the patience he demonstrated and how he explained every step so she wouldn’t be frightened. At this point, she was ready to be done with it all. The sooner they left this place where she was hunted, the better she’d feel. Maybe then she could begin healing.
She nodded her acceptance and as soon as she did, Diego stepped forward and slid his arm underneath her legs. He hooked his other arm behind her and he and Terrence held her up to Rio’s back.
The other two men quickly wound the long strips of cloth they’d secured together underneath her bottom and underneath her legs. They did a series of figure eights, coiling rope and material up and over Rio’s shoulders then under and around her legs and behind until she was solidly supported and attached to his back.
Diego positioned her splinted arm at Rio’s side just underneath his armpit and then secured it to Rio’s body as well.
She had no idea how on earth Rio was going to be able to move with her plastered to his body the way she was, much less carry a gun, but he didn’t seem at all bothered by the prospect.
“How are the ribs?” Rio asked.
“Okay.”
“They’ll hurt when he starts walking,” Diego warned. “Try to press against him to minimize your movements as much as possible. The more you jostle, the more it’s going to cause you pain.”
She nodded again and pressed in as close to Rio as she could get. Already she was exhausted and they hadn’t even begun the journey out. She didn’t even know how far they had to travel and she didn’t want to ask because she wasn’t sure she could handle the answer.
Instead she was going to put herself in their hands because she had no other choice. She had no idea who these men were—only that they knew her sister and they professe
d to want to help her.
She’d been prepared to die. It shamed her that she’d been so ready to give in. At her absolute lowest point, these men had appeared, refusing to let her give up. Rio had promised to take her home, though she had no inkling of what home meant. She’d spent too much time on the run, separated from her only family.
The idea that she was finally safe and could see her sister after so long was more than she could comprehend.
“Ready, Grace?” Rio called over his shoulder.
She took a deep breath, realizing that she was venturing into the unknown once again. Only this time she wasn’t alone and that bolstered her flagging resolve like nothing else could.
“Ready.”
