Jem decided that doctors should go through a screening process that required them to keep a living thing alive for more than a year before they could practice. He remembered telling one particular woman this while sitting across from her, watching the familiar, quizzical look cross her face.
She’d tilted her head, like she’d been trying to recover from the wild ride that his conversation often was. He’d bounced from topic to topic in these places, mainly to avoid going too deep into why he was really here. Because it was classified intel, for one thing. And for another, strangers poking around in his brain wasn’t his thing.
But finally, after she refused to sign him out of the damned place he’d been stuck in six weeks later, he’d dropped the plant shit and all the other crap and told her about his brother. About leaving him behind.
He’d always had a lot of guilt about that, but the therapist had looked at him like he was a hero. He’d gone to leave, but when his hand was on the doorknob, she’d told him, “You’re fearless for the people you love. It’s an admirable quality. Something many don’t understand.” She’d paused, and he’d let go of the knob, but he didn’t turn around. “Many people think fearless equals crazy.”
“They’re right.”
“You think of yourself as crazy?”
“Takes a special man to jump off the roof of a building. Or walk into a situation where you’ll be shot on sight if you don’t play it right.”
“What stops you, do you think, from getting killed?”
At this point, he had turned. “I scare the shit out of people when I do stuff like that,” he’d explained with a shrug. “I don’t have to yell or carry a weapon. Just walking into a room where a guy’s waving a weapon, feeling indestructible, makes him freak the fuck out.”
She’d considered that. “And how do you feel when you walk into that situation?”
“I don’t think. I act. I turn everything else off and do what feels natural.”
“And danger feels natural?”
“Oh yeah.” Jem had said, then looked at her with a frown. “Wait, you’re just figuring that out? We’re going to have to talk about the plant again.”
“God no. Anything but that.” She’d slid the discharge papers across the desk at him. And just like that, he’d been free.
He blinked now, because it was finally getting dark. His body cooled down.
It was time to move … directly into the danger.
Chapter Sixteen
Forty-eight hours later
The docked boat was the safest place right now, according to Avery. She told the women that she’d go out and scout other locations when the sun went down, but for now they should put on shorts and Tshirts and pretend they were just women on a vacation.
Sure, Drea thought, not a problem. If you ignored Grace’s red-rimmed eyes, Avery stomping around with a knife strapped to the inside of her biceps and a gun in her bag and Emma, who jumped at any sound. Of course, Drea wasn’t doing much better, but she pushed herself into medical professional MO, which meant shut off emotion and do your goddamned job.
Currently, said job was trying to coax Emma to at least peek her head out onto the deck. They were outside a semicrowded marina, the boat docked fifteen feet from shore where the coast guard circled. This was not the place where terrorists would come grab her.
“Emma, Avery will be right there next to us. With a gun. I know you’re freaked, but you’re also seasick and staying down here is the absolute worst.”
Emma looked up from the toilet she was kneeling in front of, her face a not-so-pretty shade of pale mixed with green. She had a few bruises, light ones along her neck, but otherwise she was much unscathed—on the outside, of course.
When Drea had figured out what the terrorists planned to do with Emma—sell her to some drug lord, where she’d be made his sex slave—the bile rose in her throat. That people did that kind of thing in today’s day and age, which Avery said was far more common than anyone realized, had blown Drea away. And Emma didn’t have the luxury of amnesia, which Drea thought would be pretty damned handy in that situation.
Last night, Emma had admitted to her, “The men told me where I was going. They laughed about it. They talked about how daddy’s little girl was going to be performing sex acts.” And then Emma had thrown up again, partially from the rocky waters but more likely from the memories.
Finally, Emma stood up. Gargled mouthwash. And then she took Drea’s hand and let Drea walk her up onto the deck.
It was a warm, beautifully sunny day—completely the opposite of the black storm clouds that raged inside all of them.
“How’s your leg feel?” Drea asked Avery, who bore a large contusion on the back of her calf from too-close contact with the rocks during her swim two nights ago.
Avery looked behind her as if she’d forgotten she even had an injury. “Feels fine. Looks ugly, though, huh?”
“It’s gonna get worse—wait until it turns yellow.” Drea crouched down so she could gently probe the area, making sure the swelling had gone down. “You should still be taking ibuprofen.”
“I’ve been forgetting,” Avery admitted, and Drea, figuring that to be the case, pulled the pills from her pocket and handed them to Avery. Avery downed them with water and grimaced, and Drea realized that was the first time she’d seen Avery stop to drink in days. Which meant she hadn’t eaten either.
“I’m going to make you a sandwich. You can’t keep us safe if you’re not thinking clearly, and if your blood sugar’s low. I know it’s the last thing you want to do, the last thing Grace wants to do, but it’s my job to keep you all functioning. It’s your job to shoot anything that moves.” Drea marched away, not wanting to hear Avery argue that she wasn’t hungry. When she came back with sandwiches, Avery and Grace ate theirs without question. After about half an hour, Emma reached for one as well.
Satisfied that everyone was listening to her, Drea grabbed her own sandwich and followed her own advice.
“Hey, Doc,” Avery called to her from the bow. “I can sure tell you were in the military.”
“I guess that’s a compliment,” Drea said, noticing it was the first time they’d all smiled in a long while. Avery hopped down and came toward the rest of them. They were sitting in a semicircle, where they could see their surroundings. Where they could see the men—Gunner, Jem, Key and Dare—when they swam in.
When, not if.
“Do you think they’re okay?” Emma asked for the thousandth time. She didn’t have the experience the others had, and Avery was remarkably patient with her, each time explaining that yes, she was sure the men were fine. That most likely, either they were waiting for the terrorists to pull off the island or perhaps they’d gotten a lead and they were waiting to try to actively capture one of the terrorists.
“They can’t call until they’re off the island—far enough away that no one can track their sat phones.” Avery rubbed her hands together. “And yes, I want to drive the boat back there and pick them up.”
Gunner had planned to swim up and borrow a different boat, a smaller one, built for speed and stealth. He told the women to wait on their boat for two full days, then go onshore, check into a hotel under an agreed-upon name that they often used as an alias and wait for further instruction. Once they checked in, they were also to inform Emma’s father that she was safe and sound, and to make arrangements for him to pick her up.
Now Avery glanced at her watch and Drea knew that they would be leaving the boat in an hour. Thankfully, Emma already felt a thousand times better, but Drea was sure that new neuroses would show themselves once they started to walk through the crowds on the docks.
And Grace was so quiet it broke Drea’s heart, and that had already been pulled apart with the thought of losing Jem when she really just found him.
When Avery told them, “I’ve already booked the room. We don’t have to stop at the front desk at all. We can just go through the lobby and straight up to the room, and the bellhop
will meet us there with the keys,” Grace asked, “Do you think we should call in more help for them?”
Avery put her hands on her hips and stared across the ocean for a long moment before telling Grace, “I’ve been batting that idea back and forth all day. Ultimately, I think it would make things worse.”
“You could call Carolina,” Drea suggested. “She’s still recovering, but she gives good advice, and she’s got contacts, and common sense.”
“When we get to the room, can you get her on the line for me?” Avery asked, and Drea agreed. The women packed quickly, taking everything with them as they left the boat, got onto the small dinghy and let the dockmaster bring them to shore. Keeping Emma between them, Avery walking behind, they made it safely to the hotel, up the stairs and into the rooms without incident.
Drea stayed with Emma while she showered, just in case she got light-headed as she made the call to Carolina from a secured cell phone that Avery produced. After a brief hello she passed the phone right to Avery, not wanting to waste time. And Carolina had been all-business too, once Drea simply told her, “Jem’s missing—he might be in trouble or he might be fine, but …”
Avery was on the phone with Carolina for a long time, pacing through most of it. Emma got into one of the beds and fell asleep and Grace showered next and did the same. Drea was grateful that Grace was able to sleep. Because she was getting to the point where she was ready to drug that woman before she began to hallucinate.
The next step was getting Avery to agree to sleep, but she figured that was a losing battle. It would be one for her as well, but she took a warm shower and forced herself to sit and doze lightly.
Especially after Avery informed her that Carolina said it would complicate things to add any help to the mix. It was good to let an unaffected party make that call, but Drea knew that Avery had been ready to make the same one herself.
Chapter Seventeen
Gunner caught up with them about an hour after Jem had found Key and Dare. They’d preplanned a meeting place and a time, in case the worst happened. Because hell, being prepared was the most important factor of survival.
They’d walked along the outskirts of the island, trying to find a good way back into the water and to the boat Gunner had docked. Of course, the beach would be thick with guards, because they knew the men would be trying to escape.
And then Jem had found the big yacht, and he was itching to fucking board it and then blow the shit out of it. Key practically had to sit on him to stop him. But Gunner was biting at the leash just as hard.
“We could use their own explosives on them, turn this around. Finish off a hundred men in one swoop,” Gunner informed them.
“A man after my own heart.” Jem patted him on the shoulder.
“You’re all fucking delirious,” Dare muttered. “I told you not to eat those damned berries.”
“The berries were good,” Jem protested, and yeah, his head might be spinning a little, but no one could deny that Gunner’s idea of using the traffickers’ explosives against them was a good one. The only thing that bothered Jem was that the women were back on the boat, probably worried sick about them. “It’s a big risk, yeah, but that’s what we do.”
“We’re never going to have this many of them in one place again,” Key finally said.
Dare sighed like he was dealing with a bunch of errant children. “Jem, you want to board the boat or do you want to let Gunner do it?”
“I haven’t had any of those fucking berries,” Gunner drawled. “I say let Jem do it.”
Jem smiled and threw some more of the berries into his mouth. “Like I need berries to make me crazy.”
*
Avery called them all together into the main room of the hotel suite. “Carolina just sent word that a yacht was just blown to bits on the island where Emma was being held.”
Grace looked relieved. “That sounds like our guys.”
“It does.”
Drea was fisting her hands together so hard the nails bit into the soft skin of her palms. Because she knew that there was a likelihood their men were on that yacht. A very small one, but there had been no contact. “When did the explosion happen?” she asked Avery now.
Avery stuck her hands into her jeans pockets. “Twelve hours ago.”
It had taken them fifteen hours to get back to the marina, but Gunner’s boat was smaller and faster.
“They could be hiding still,” Grace said. “I’m not making excuses, but we all know how it goes after we pull a job.”
Drea was just learning this, but it made sense the men would protect them by not coming close or making contact. Still, “I want to kill them for doing this.”
Avery shook her head. “Get in line.”
Drea smiled, for the first time in days. “I’m going to let Emma know that her father should be here soon.”
She’d gotten up from the couch and she’d found Emma in her bedroom, dressed and ready … and nervous.
“I can’t wait to see my father. But I feel different, Drea. I’ve lost … something.”
Emma had lost a certain innocence, and although it could’ve been far worse, for a seventeen-year-old to learn that she wasn’t indestructible was a difficult lesson. Drea had learned hers early too. “You’ve got to give yourself some time, Em. And find someone to talk to. But you’ll be able to put this behind you.”
“You’re sure I can call you? I won’t get you in trouble?”
“No, you won’t.” She’d given Emma Carolina’s number, figuring that was the best way for Emma to find her, after she cleared it with Carolina first.
A knock on the door made them both jump a little, but when Emma’s father walked in, she ran to him, threw herself into his arms. He held her so tightly, so lovingly, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.
Drea felt her throat tighten, so happy it worked out for them. Emma would go home to her family and she’d be safe.
Drea had gone from one hellish situation to another when she was younger than Emma. So many bad choices.
“Thank you,” Emma’s father was telling them as he ushered Emma out the door. At the last minute, Emma turned and waved. Drea waved back by rote, but something happened … a memory flashed; then the spark caught. And it wasn’t Emma at the door, but rather, it was Drea, leaving the hospital with Jem by her side …
Jem, who’d pulled a gun on her, forcing her out of the hospital to go look at his dying friend.
“Avery … ,” she whispered.
“Drea, what’s wrong?” Avery asked her now.
“You were dying.” Drea grabbed hold of the closest chair as her life—her most recent past that she hadn’t been able to remember—continued to roll out before her eyes like a movie’s previews. At first, it only hit the main notes, like getting taken out of the hospital—under duress—by Jem.
Avery, badly beaten.
Jem, rescuing her at her house from the impending OA visit.
Getting kidnapped by a criminal.
“Drea?” Grace’s voice sounded so far away.
Drea forced the shock from her system, not wanting to go back to that place again where she was frozen inside her own body. That was a true hell. She’d been trapped, looking for a familiar face, and she’d found none.
But now, when she looked over, she saw familiar. Grace. Avery. She held her hands out to them and they each grabbed one, got close to her. They all ended up sitting on the floor, and the two women just sat, waited and watched her.
“I remember,” she started. “I remember traveling with you guys—Avery was still healing and you were all in hiding, from a man who was after Gunner. And then there was a plan in place, and you needed someone that wasn’t recognizable, like all of you were. And I said I’d do it—Jem was pissed about it, but I insisted. I wanted to help, the way you were helping me. I wanted to be useful.” She bit back a sob as everything rushed back, almost too fast for her to catch it, and so the words came tumbling out, almost with
out a breath in between them. “The plan was going fine until that man, the one we fake-hired to get me out of the country, decided that I would ruin things if I left. He said that he didn’t trust people not to fuck things up. And he took me with him. And that wasn’t part of the plan, right?”
“Not S8’s plan, no,” Avery said quietly. “That man’s job was to get people who wanted out of witness protection, out of testifying for the government, and generally anyone who wanted to escape the country and had enough money to do so.”
Drea nodded. She remembered that too. “I told myself that if I played along, I’d be fine. He’d believe me and you all would come rescue me.”
“And we did,” Grace said softly, although her voice held a great deal of pain.
“You did,” Drea echoed. “But the man who I was supposed to be tricking figured it out. Somehow. He complimented Gunner and said he was one of the best. But he’d assumed that this was a trap. So he tied me up and threatened me. To tell you the truth, I was used to that—it was nothing the OA hadn’t tried before I left for the Army, and after I’d come home.”
“Bastards,” Avery whispered, and yes, that word covered a lot of ground.
“It’s still a little fuzzy. I remember he left me. I remember being cold. I think I was hypothermic and that caused the shock. But then I semirecall the rescue. Jem’s worry. A boat ride.” Waking and asking for Danny.
The pain on Jem’s face when she’d done so. “God, that hurt Jem so much,” she murmured as she recalled nights he’d spent next to her in bed before that whole ordeal. He’d kissed her, would pull back with muffled curses when things threatened to go too far. Because he’d wanted her, but even then, he’d been afraid of that want.
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