Betrayed (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 9) (8 page)

He clenched his jaw. Before Melissa he’d been reckless, would have taken stupid risks at a time like this. Not anymore. She’d changed him. Captured his whole heart and made him realize he had more to live for than just himself.

He had to be careful now, think this through instead of charging ahead. He’d left an ATV ditched in a hidden cache about three miles from here. He’d pull back for now, find a safe place to keep watch from and find out what the hell was going on. He needed a lot more intel before he could plan out his next move and act on it.

There were too many players involved in this mess for his liking right now, too many unknowns. He had to get the hell out of here now, before anyone spotted him.

Turning around, he hurried up the hill and melted into the protection of the forest.

Georgia was down.

Bautista remained still and kept sight of her through his scope, while everything in him demanded that he run to her. A stupid move that could get them all killed. He blocked the impulse.

“Got movement to your two o’clock, about eighty yards out,” Rycroft murmured through his earpiece. “Hold your position while we check it out.”

Not bothering to reply Bautista remained stretched out on his belly, took a quick look around then locked his gaze on the woman lying prone on the wet ground. Despite his training, despite that until recently he’d made an obscene amount of money operating as a contract killer, it bothered him to leave her lying there like that in the rain when he knew she was already gravely ill. The cold and the wet wouldn’t be good for her.

At least from his vantage point he could protect her, he told himself. His vigilance was ingrained from years of operating off grid with only his own wits to keep him alive.

If anyone besides Rycroft and Briar were moving around out there and hoping to take a shot on Georgia, they would be shocked when he took them out instead. For the second or two it took for them to die, anyway.

As he waited, the minutes ticked past with agonizing slowness, each one ratcheting the pressure inside him higher. He’d done rescue before, back in his military days. But never in an op like this one, where he’d been personally involved with the victim they were trying to save.

Complex and tangled up as his feelings for Georgia might be, they were still there. Every second she lay there in front of him cost him, and the struggle to hold back was real.

He was more than willing to risk going to her before he got the all-clear from Rycroft. In fact, he was leaning toward ignoring the order altogether and going to her when the man’s voice sounded in his earpiece again.

“Possible suspect sighted. I’m in pursuit. Briar’s moving back toward you. You’ll both take the target back to the cabin and wait for me there.”

He knew some kind of response was expected so he muttered, “Affirm.”

“You’re clear,” Briar reported to him a moment later. “I’ll cover you from here.”

He didn’t know her well enough to know how good she was with a rifle but she must be pretty decent if Rycroft had allowed her this kind of operational latitude, and even though he didn’t know exactly what her background was, he understood it meant she’d had decent training.

Anyway, Bautista didn’t give a shit about any of that or even his own safety right now. All he cared about was getting to Georgia and taking her to the cabin so they could give her medical care and, when she was coherent, get some answers.

“Go,” Briar said.

Slinging his rifle across his back, he broke from cover and ran in a crouch the few dozen yards separating them. When he reached her he dropped to his knees, realized his heart was pounding.

She was facedown, her head turned toward him, her pale face streaked with mud and her hair wet and matted. He gently removed the NVGs she was wearing.

The sight of her up close for the first time in so many weeks hit him like a roundhouse to the chest. Even ill and covered in mud, she was beautiful, and he found himself wishing she’d just open those big blue eyes and look at him, let him know she was okay.

Who are you, really?
he wondered.

Reaching out a hand, he touched two fingers to the vulnerable spot beneath her ear. A sensitive place he’d licked and raked his teeth over during the one and only night they’d spent together.

A night he’d never forget as long as he lived.

Her skin was hot to the touch but relief slid through him when he felt her pulse. Slow but steady, and she was breathing okay, albeit shallowly.

He swept the wet tangle of hair off her forehead, leaning over her to shelter her from the rain. After checking her for further injuries and finding nothing, he bent and scooped her up into his arms.

She’d lost weight. That was his first thought as he stood and immediately began carrying her in the direction of the cabin she’d vacated less than an hour ago.

They’d been damn lucky to find her in time, catching sight of her as she’d darted through the forest and away from the cabin they’d been headed for. She was way thinner than she’d been back in June, having lost at least ten pounds. Life on the run had obviously taken its toll on her.

It made the deeply buried nurturing part of him want to take care of her even more.

Even though he tried to steel himself, the feel of her tucked against his chest, so still and fragile, filled him with raw protectiveness. She didn’t stir as he made his way down the hill, keeping her cradled against his chest.

He could feel the unnatural heat rising from her body through her wet clothing. The tranq he’d darted her with had been strong enough to bring her down, but now he worried that the dosage might have been too high given how ill she was.

“Still clear. Coming up on your six o’clock,” Briar murmured.

Without answering or looking over his shoulder for her, he headed straight for the cabin, staying alert for any hint of movement or that telltale tingle at the base of his spine that would alert him to danger.

Thankfully there was nothing. He stepped up onto the front porch, waited while Briar did a sweep of the structure and then moved to the front door.

She examined it for a moment, then began disabling the countermeasures Georgia must have left on it to keep trespassers away. Seeing them was yet another stark reminder that the woman he held was a different person than the one he’d fallen for.

It was important he remembered that. The warm and kind-hearted “accountant” who had volunteered at his
abuela’s
care facility twice a week for those three months he’d gotten to know her was a hardened assassin. It was still hard to believe. He’d thought he’d been so careful, thought he’d done a thorough background check.

Not so much.

Briar disabled the last one and opened the door, allowing him to sweep past her. As she shut the door behind them Bautista took a look around. The cabin was old but appeared well kept and tidy.

Without him having to ask, Briar immediately did a sweep of the other two rooms before moving about checking to ensure that all the windows were covered. “Clear,” she said and flipped on a lamp in the back room, illuminating a rumpled bed.

Bautista carried Georgia in and lay her down on top of the covers then pulled off his night optics device and tossed it onto the bedside table. “She’s burning up,” he told Briar.

“I’ll get some towels.”

He took off her dirty coat and reached for the hem of her damp sweater, then stopped. It seemed wrong somehow, to strip her like this when she was defenseless, especially after they’d slept together.

He mentally shook himself.
Screw it.

Working fast he pulled off her sweater, boots, socks and peeled her wet jeans off her legs. Every inch of creamy white skin he revealed reminded him of how she’d felt in his arms that night last summer, of how she’d touched him, held him, the feel of her mouth beneath his as her hips rose to meet every thrust…

He brutally squashed those thoughts and focused on getting her warm and dry. When she was left with only her bra and panties on he pulled the covers over her.

Briar appeared at the other side of the bed with a handful of towels. Without waiting for her to do it he took one and began drying Georgia’s hair.

Her skin was pale except for the bright red fever spots burning in her cheeks, and there was a bluish tinge to the skin under her eyes. Her pulse was rapid, her breathing shallow.

“We need to start an IV,” he said. His gut told him she wasn’t suffering from the flu. Had she been poisoned?

They’d move her to somewhere more secure, an NSA safe house maybe, just as soon as the threat outside was neutralized and they could get their SUV down that single road that led to the cabin—a dangerous place to travel when there were potential snipers waiting in the woods.

Briar nodded and went to retrieve her rucksack she’d left inside the door. “Here,” she said, handing him the med kit. “I found an open bottle of ibuprofen tablets on the bathroom counter. She might have taken some earlier.”

“If she did, they didn’t do much for her.” He ripped open the IV kit, took out the supplies and grasped her left forearm in his hand.

His gaze snagged on the healed wound there, where a bullet had torn through. It looked like she’d had surgery to repair the bone. Her hands and feet were ice cold, and the rest of her was too damn hot. They needed to get fluids into her then wait for the tranquilizer to wear off so they could find out what had made her so sick.

Pulling the rubber tourniquet tight around her forearm, he positioned the long needle and slid it into her vein, inserted the catheter and taped it into place, then started the drip. “Gimme a fresh pair of socks.”

Briar dug into her pack and handed him one. She said nothing while he pulled the covers back and slid the socks onto Georgia’s feet then began to rub them between his hands to warm them, but the way she stared at him was starting to get on his nerves.

He shot her a hard look, didn’t stop the brisk movement of his hands over Georgia’s left foot. “What?”

Briar shook her head. “It’s just…strange, watching you with her.”

“Why’s that,” he muttered, looking back down.

“Because I wasn’t a hundred percent certain until just now, but I can see you really do care.”

He stopped, his entire body stilling for a moment. He resented her trying to analyze him, hated the feeling of vulnerability he felt at that moment.

Straightening, Bautista pulled the covers over her legs once more, the cynical part of him taking over.

He’d fallen for the woman he’d known as Julia. The woman lying on the bed was a total stranger to him, and he wasn’t even sure he’d find any of Julia in her at all once she woke. He needed to remember that.

The thought made a hard ball of dread form in the pit of his stomach. By signing that contract he’d essentially locked himself into a life of servitude to the NSA, on the off chance that he could find and reconnect with the woman he’d lost.

He knew it was insane to have taken such a huge risk. What would he do if it turned out this was all for nothing?

It’s still better than rotting in prison.
If she didn’t want him, he could still run. Or at least try to, provided he could find that damn tracking device.

“Stay with her while I go help Rycroft track down whoever else is out there,” he muttered, turning on his heel and striding from the bed.

“I’ll go if you want to stay with her.”

At her quiet words Bautista looked back at her over his shoulder. His gaze unerringly slid to Georgia, so still and pale in that bed.

Part of him wanted to take the opportunity Briar had offered him, driven by some deep-seated need to take care of Georgia. His heart didn’t care what her name was. It only saw the woman who’d managed to capture it.

Which was insane, and he’d better lock his old feelings for her down for good until he saw how this situation played out. Bad enough that he’d signed his life over to the government and had to work with his “teammates” on this mission. It was a hundred times worse to have them watching his every reaction to Georgia, scrutinizing them. A total invasion of privacy he couldn’t afford to let them capitalize on.

Except they’d already capitalized on it, hadn’t they? It’s why he was even here in the first place.

When she woke up, he had to have his game face firmly in place.

“No. You stay. She’ll be more comfortable finding you here when she wakes up.” It also gave him a reprieve, temporary though it was.

For a moment Briar looked like she might argue, but then nodded. “I’ll alert you guys if she wakes up before you get back.”

Bautista turned for the door and grabbed his weapon, already back in operational mode. He was far better at killing than he was at nurturing anyway.

Go do what you’re good at and stop trying to be something you’re not.

He’d find out soon enough whether his forced resurrection was worth it.

****

Someone was moving around nearby.

Heart hammering, Georgia struggled to pry her heavy eyelids apart. What was wrong with her? Everything hurt and her stomach rolled.

Her body wouldn’t obey her when she tried to move and her limbs felt like they weighed a ton. A dull throb beat at her skull and the cold was still there, wracking her with convulsive shivers.

Slowly it all came back to her. Her escape through the tunnel, the run through the woods.

She’d been shot with a dart. Must have been a tranquilizer rather than something lethal, otherwise she wouldn’t have woken up at all. But why? Who had done it? Did they plan to torture her before killing her?

A terrible sense of helplessness stole over her, quickly replaced by sheer resolve. She would never surrender. It wasn’t in her hardwiring.

Finally she managed to peel her eyelids open a fraction of an inch, wincing as the light hit her eyes. Her cabin, she realized. She was in her bed. How had she gotten here? She couldn’t remember.

A chill swept through her, this time having nothing to do with the fever. There was so much she didn’t remember, didn’t know.