Page 70 of Fighting for Valor
Ripper. The voice is so faint, I wonder if I’m imagining things.
But then I hear it again. Along with barking. Charlie. He found Charlie.
“Here,” I try to call, but my teeth are chattering so badly, I barely make a sound. “Ripper!” My heart pounds and I feel like my head’s about to explode, but I use the metal walls to try to push myself up. I almost make it. But my legs cramp from crouching in this position for so long, and I collapse, one hand clawing at the edge of the fan housing.
I try again. “Ripper…here…”
Flashlights sweep over the area, and Charlie’s barking gets louder until it’s right below me. But my hands are wet, and I lose my grip and fall onto my ass with a tiny yelp.
“Help me up,” Ripper says, and three seconds later, his face appears above me. “Thank God. Cara? Sunshine, can you take my hand?”
“Uh-huh.” I’m so cold, but he’ll keep me warm. All I want is his arms around me. I’ll be fine if I can just get to him.
“Hold my legs,” he calls behind him, and then wriggles forward until half his torso’s inside the fan housing. “Push up, Cara. Just a foot or two. I’ll take it from there.”
I can barely see his eyes in the darkness, but he’s so confident, I don’t hesitate. My thighs tremble, and a sharp pain snakes across my chest, stealing my breath, but I grit my teeth and inch upwards until Ripper can grab me under the arms.
“Pull,” he calls. I don’t know who’s out there, but he wouldn’t be so calm if Jessup and Parr were with them. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hold on for all I’m worth as we slide up the shaft and onto the edge of the housing. And then he’s trying to loosen my grip on him, and I whimper. No. Don’t let go.
“Cara, sunshine, look at me.” As his warm hand cups my cheek, I meet his gaze. “I’m standing on Ry’s back. I need you to swing your legs around so you’re sitting on the housing. Once I’m back on the ground, I promise, I’ll hold you as long as you want. As long as you let me.”
I’m still shivering so violently, I can’t answer him, but I nod, and he snakes an arm around my back, then helps me spin around.
Ryker’s bent over, his hands braced on his thighs, knee deep in the water. Another man, one I don’t recognize, stands a few feet away out of the water with Charlie pacing around him.
Jumping off the platform Ry made for him, Ripper lands with a splash, then straightens and holds his arms out to me. “Just let yourself drop. I’ll catch you.”
He does just that, crushing me against him, and I start to cry, even though I didn’t think I had any tears left. “You’re freezing,” he says, and after he’s back on dry ground, crouches down with me cradled to his chest. “Charlie, get over here.”
The dog presses himself against me, and I’m sandwiched between two warm bodies, safe. “Can’t breathe,” I gasp. “Heart.”
“Ry?” Ripper says. “In the back pocket of my vest, there’s a purple case. Get me one of the white pills.”
He has my meds.
When he holds a metal flask to my lips, I manage a healthy sip of water to wash down the pill that will calm my racing heart.
Charlie licks my cheek, and then the other man, the one I don’t know, clears his throat. “I don’t want to interrupt this touching reunion, but we set off a grenade six minutes ago, there are five dead bodies in that mill, and we have an army intelligence officer tied up in the van. Can we get out of here now?”
“Let’s go, sunshine,” he whispers to me, and I nod, then rest my cheek on his shoulder.
As he carries me to a four-door pickup truck, no one says a word. The other man climbs into a black van, while Charlie jumps up into the backseat of the pickup.
“Is it o-over?” I stammer as Ryker pulls a black bag out of the truck bed and throws it on the passenger seat.
Ripper accepts the blanket Ryker hands him and tucks it around me. “It’s over. It’s finally over.”
I only remember pieces of the ride back to Ripper’s apartment and how I ended up in his bed. The tension radiating off of him as he carried me into the elevator. The warm water in the tub. His naked body against mine as he washed away the dirt and blood and that terrible cologne Jessup wore that clung to me the whole time. Bandages to my upper arm. A soft t-shirt, thick socks. A man—a doctor—who came to examine me, assuring me a dozen times there would be no record of his visit. A pill to help me sleep, another for the pain, and an order to call him if I had any nausea.
Now, we’re snuggling together under the weighted blanket with Charlie pressed up against my side.
I’m so tired, but I need to know what happened. Ripper’s quiet. Almost like he’s retreated into his own head.
“Talk to me,” I say softly.
“You should sleep.” He brushes a lock of my still-damp hair away from my swollen cheek. “After the meds the doc gave you, I’m amazed you haven’t passed out already.”
“Worried about you.” He’s not wrong. My words feel like they weigh a hundred pounds, and I have to concentrate on every syllable.
