Page 73 of The B-Team

Tightness gathered in the small of her back, signaling another wave of pain was on its way. This time, she gripped Harvard’s arms and held on tight, yelling into his chest through the worst of it.

When it passed, she sagged against him, exhausted. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“No.” He kissed her head.

Rachel stared into his beautiful, dark eyes. “You have to stop crying,” she said. “They’ll think you’re soft.”

He barked out a laugh.

“We do this together?” he asked, holding her eyes captive with his.

“Fine,” she relented, and there was some relief in doing so. “But I’m not happy about any of this.”

“Your objections have been noted,” he said with a warm, loving smile.

Rachel straightened her shoulders as best she could and turned to face the doctor. “You may examine me.”

The medical staff were visibly relieved.

As Harvard helped Rachel onto the bed, she grabbed his hand and held on tight. “Don’t let go,” she ordered.

“I won’t.” It was a promise.

Rachel settled back onto the raised pillows and turned to one of the nurses. “If I’m going to be here for the night, there aresome things I’ll need. Could you please make a list and get them for me?”

The nurse glanced at the doctor, who nodded once, tersely, clearly afraid that any objection would mean losing Rachel’s cooperation. At the sight of the interaction, something inside Rachel settled. It was going to be okay. She was still Rachel Ford-Talbot. And she was still scary as hell.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Okay,” Katrina said to Rodrigo. “I have an idea. Can you get Ryan down the stairs to the panic room?”

“What about the cops?” Rodrigo replied, his attention on the groaning man at his feet. “The ones up here and the ones downstairs.” There seemed to be an excess of them everywhere.

“I’ll lock the ones downstairs in the control room until you get in here.” Katrina sounded far from convinced this was a good idea. “The ones outside are talking about checking the perimeter of the building, so that will buy us a few minutes. If you can carry Ryan, you can make it down here before they get back.”

Rodrigo looked down at the man lost to the pain inside his head. He was a big-assed guy, made up of solid muscle that weighed a ton. “I can try a firefighter’s carry and hope for the best.”

“Just don’t drop him on his head,” Katrina warned. “His brain’s already damaged enough, and we don’t want him back in a coma.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Rodrigo said dryly. “Tell me when the outside cops are out of sight. Are the others locked in the control room now?”

“Yes, they keep hitting that fake red button, but nobody’s tried the door yet.” She paused. “Okay, the new cops are heading around to the back of the building. You could try making a run for your car, but I don’t know who else is out there. I think we need to go with my plan. Get down here. Now!”

Rodrigo was in no position to argue. He crouched beside Ryan. “Hey, buddy. Can you hear me?”

Unfocused eyes met his as Ryan groaned again.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

There was no point in explaining the plan. He doubted it would get through to Ryan in his current state. Instead, he hefted him up, slung him over his shoulder, and stood—straining every damn muscle in his body to get to his feet. Rodrigo held Ryan’s limp body in place with an arm around his thighs.

It felt like he’d just lifted an elephant, but he locked his knees and clenched his jaw. Just one flight of stairs and a short walk to the panic room.

“Get the door open,” he told Katrina through gritted teeth. “We’re on our way.”

Rodrigo said a silent prayer of thanks that they were going downstairs, not up. He wasn’t sure his legs would’ve made it up the stairs. Ryan was a deadweight, no longer making any sound, and only the steady rhythm of his breathing told Rodrigo he was still alive. Whatever happened, it’d hit fast and taken him out entirely. He wasn’t too sure a panic room was the best place to take Ryan. A hospital seemed more appropriate. But they were stuck now. And if the cops caught sight of them, Ryan would be heading to jail.

He was out of breath when he pushed open the door to the basement. Relief gave him a second wind when he saw Katrina standing in the panic room’s open doorway, the bookcase shifted to the side.