by Lizzy Ford
Beyond concerned, Brady crossed to the trembling woman and squatted. She shook like a leaf in a thunderstorm, her warm brown eyes wide and tears streaming down her cheeks. Donovan’s blood was on her face and T-shirt, and her wrist was bleeding again. The idea of the idiot raping her infuriated him.
“Aw, hell,” Dan said as he appeared in the doorway.
“She’s okay,” Brady said, not entirely convinced.
As a warrior who spent his adult life at battle, he wasn’t really keen on how to comfort a woman who had seen three things she’d likely never witnessed before in the span of five minutes. He doubted she’d ever been in a situation where she’d barely escaped being raped, and he knew she’d never shot anyone or seen anyone’s head get blown off in front of her.
Donovan had gotten pretty damn far, he admitted. She was down to her underwear and a T-shirt. A minute more, and he’d have been too late. She huddled against the trunk, too terrified to make a sound. He held out a hand to her, and she withdrew further.
Brady looked at Dan, who shook his head.
“Burn her clothes,” he said. “Issue an order to the men. The girl’s mine.”
As the PMF commander of the Appalachia Branch, his word would hold, especially when his men heard he’d blown off Donovan’s head for hurting her. In the paramilitary organization that relied on secrecy and loyalty to survive, the soldiers followed the man they trusted most. He’d gone from one world to the other easily; it was in his blood, the blood of his father and grandfather.
The woman before him had never known any other world but her own. She definitely wouldn’t understand a world like this one.
He reached for her, as gentle as possible when she struggled. He picked her up and strode out of the tent and through the camp, ignoring the catcalls of the men around him. He took her to his tent. Though he did live in a tent, he liked to think he lived as comfortable as possible. It resembled a studio apartment with a real bed and dresser, a restroom cordoned off by opaque curtains in one corner, a small study where he kept his war docs, a kitchenette, rugs, and a small living area. He set her down on a rug.
She cowered away from him, favoring her hurt wrist.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
Her tearful plea made him angry that he hadn’t been able to protect her as he should have. Even so, she wasn’t going to last long among the roughnecks in his camp if she didn’t toughen up a little.
“You have to do what I say,” he said. “You understand me?”
She nodded. He prepped bandages for her wrist, a bowl and washcloth, and a smaller version of the doc’s med-gun, loading it with enough painkiller to knock her out. She inched away, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. He gave her the shot first. Her body jerked, but its effects were immediate. She slumped against him.
Brady pulled her into his lap and set to work on cleaning her up and repairing her wrist. He didn’t know if she hadn’t had time to fix her wound or didn’t know how; the wound was on the verge of becoming infected.
“Here’s her shit,” Dan said, ducking into the tent. He tossed her micro, pills, and a vault half the size of his hand on the pillows near him. “She okay?”
“She’s gonna be a mess,” Brady said.
“Donovan hurt her?”
“I don’t think so.”
Dan shook his head and flung himself down across from him, retrieving the sealed vault. He shook it then set it down when it made no noise.
“What is someone like this doing out here?” Brady demanded.
“No idea.”
Lana’s skin was soft, her body fitting comfortably against his. His blood heated at her familiar scent. He’d found her voice soothing and enjoyed talking to her when he was her Guardian, enough so that he’d looked forward to their paths crossing. He hadn’t expected her to be as small or exotically beautiful as she was.
“We found Elise,” Dan said.
“She put up a fight?”
“Oh, yeah. Took out two of our guys until I told her we had this one.”
“Elise will do well here. This one …” Brady shook his head at the woman in his lap.
“Like a lamb to the coyotes.”
They both studied the unconscious woman. Her shapely body was all but exposed. When he’d gotten Donovan’s blood off her, Brady lifted her and placed her in his bed. He stood over her, pensive. It was easier to protect Angel from afar, before she knew what he was or faced the dangers he did daily. Though he took an oath to take care of her, he’d never expected she’d be lying in his bed, helpless against his world.
“Post a guard.”
“Brade.”
He looked up at Dan’s curious tone.
“You intend to keep her, don’t you?”
“You remember the girl who got us access to the hospital?”
“That’s Angel?” Dan asked, suddenly interested.
“Yep.”
“Wow—bet you never saw this coming. She’s not what I expected at all. I know you said she was smart, but … little?”
“You can’t tell that by someone’s voice.” Brady snorted and picked up her micro. It didn’t activate at his touch, and he suspected it was locked to everyone but her. He tucked it and the vault into his cargo pocket.
“She might be useful,” he said. “She knows where every emerops point is on the East Coast.”
“Just when I start to think you’ve gone soft …” Dan said and shook his head. “You’re smarter than I give you credit for.”
“Gee, thanks,” Brady said dryly. “When’s the next mission to the Peak?”
“Leaves in an hour.”
He looked one last time at the woman in his bed and left the tent. If he didn’t think he’d scarred her for life, he’d look forward to wooing her to his bed for a different reason. With her sexy little body, full lips, and huge brown eyes …
In a different world, maybe. He wasn’t sure what it was about this woman that made him think thoughts he normally didn’t in the middle of a warzone. Brady posted two of his most trusted soldiers as guards and geared up for the mission to the Peak.
