“Thank you, Gabe. Thank you both.” Natalie took Zach’s hand, bent down, pressed her lips to his forehead. “Can you hear me, Zach? We’re going to take good care of you. Just stay alive.”
JOAQUIN WALKED IN off the patio to a scene he would never forget. Bodies and blood everywhere. And there in front of him, Natalie, still soaking wet, bent over McBride, her hands stroking his face, her cheeks streaked with tears.
Natalie looked up, saw him. “Joaquin?”
Then Marc was on his feet. “Jesus H. Christ! I really
am
going to kick your ass. How the hell did you get in here?”
“Same way you did.” But with blisters. He hadn’t been wearing gloves, and the rope had done a number on his palms.
“Stay the hell out of the way—and no photos!”
He nodded, then looked over at McBride. “Is he going to make it?”
It was Rossiter who answered, his gloved fingers busy inserting an IV needle into McBride’s arm. “I think so.”
Joaquin stepped over Quintana’s body, proof of Hunter’s skill with a sniper rifle. He found a throw on the couch that wasn’t bloodstained, carried it over to Natalie, and draped it over her shoulders, certain she must be cold.
She glanced up. “Thank you.” Then her gaze returned to McBride.
Out of the corner of his eye, Joaquin saw movement near the door. He tensed, looked up—and his jaw dropped.
Hunter pivoted, pistol out. “Darcangelo?”
Covered in blood, his face pale, Darcangelo slumped against the doorjamb. “It takes a while to climb . . . twenty-four flights of stairs . . . with a round in your shoulder . . . and no thumb. Anyone seen it . . . lying around?”
In an instant, Hunter was at Darcangelo’s side, helping him to the floor. “Easy does it, buddy.”
“Make yourself useful, Ramirez.” Gabe stuffed a plastic carton of gauze, a folded emergency blanket, and a package of nitrile gloves into Joaquin’s hands. “Take these to Hunter, then see if there’s anything in the fridge or freezer you can use as an ice pack on his hand. Hunter, get him out of his shirt and body armor. Apply direct pressure, and keep him warm. I’ll come start an IV as soon as I can.”
Joaquin did as he was told, carrying the supplies to Hunter, who already had Darcangelo out of his shirt and was stripping off the bloody and pitted armor. There, on the right side of the vest was a blackened and bloodstained hole.
One of the rounds had penetrated.
Darcangelo looked up at Hunter, his face and lips unnaturally pale. “Wulfe was surprised to see me. Drew on me. I recognized him. Fired. Killed the son of a bitch.”
“Wulfe is dead?” Hunter and Rossiter asked at once.
Having no idea who this Wulfe was, Joaquin hurried into kitchen and opened the fridge and freezer, looking for something that could serve as an ice bag. There on the shelf was . . . His stomach did a flip. “I think I found your thumb.”
“Leave it there,” Rossiter called to him.
Joaquin grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and carried it over to Hunter, who now sat behind Darcangelo, supporting him and pressing a handful of gauze squares over the bullet wound in his shoulder, the emergency blanket covering them both. “Here you go, man.”
Hunter took the frozen peas and laid the bag over the already bloodstained gauze that covered Darcangelo’s maimed hand.
Darcangelo winced, gritted his teeth. “Want to tell me why . . . you’re sitting here cuddling me, Hunter?”
“Rossiter says I have to keep you warm. He thinks you’re in shock or some shit.” Despite his words and the tone of his voice, there was real worry on Hunter’s face.
“Great. Thanks.” Darcangelo’s head fell back to rest against Hunter’s vest, the big guy’s strength clearly spent.
A muscle clenched in Hunter’s jaw. “Hey, don’t mention it—ever.”
And that, Joaquin decided, swallowing the lump in his throat, was true friendship. Somehow his camera found its way back into his blistered hands, and he started shooting.
ZACH SAT ON the rim of the canyon, Mike, Chris, Brian, and Jimmy beside him. Like him, they were wearing civilian clothes, and for a moment Zach wondered why they were all out of uniform.
“Why are you still here, bro?” Jimmy asked. “Do you like this place?”
“No,” Zach answered. “I’m here because of you guys.”
Wasn’t that obvious?
Brian laughed. “We left a long time ago.”
Mike gave him a jab in the side with his elbow. “If you’re waiting here for us, you’re wasting your time. We only came back to check on you.”
There was something Zach needed to say to them, words that wouldn’t quite come to him that he needed to get out. “I’m . . . sorry.”
It was the only thing he could articulate.
Chris clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s no reason to be sorry, McBride. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. We knew it then. We know it now.”
Relief, sweet and pure, flowed through him. It was as if an unbearable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt so . . .
light
.
The four of them stood.
“We need to get rolling.” Jimmy reached down, helped Zach to his feet.
“Where are we going?” Zach looked around at the landscape. It didn’t look like Afghanistan now that he thought about it.
Mike shook his head. “Oh, no. You’re not coming with us.”
Brian pointed. “You need to head that way.”
But Zach didn’t want to say good-bye so soon. “Can’t you stay for a while?”
Chris shook his head. “It’s time to move on.”
They exchanged man-hugs, the back-slapping ritual making Zach smile, a bittersweet ache in his chest. It had been so long. Why couldn’t they stay?
“Take it easy, McBride,” Jimmy said, reaching out for a final handshake.
“See you around, frogman.” Chris gave him a mock salute.
“We’ll never forget you, bro.” Mike slugged him lightly in the shoulder.
Brian met his gaze. “You were the best of us.” Then he, too, turned and walked away.
Zach watched them go, sadness seeping through him like a chill as they disappeared in the distance.
Then he turned and looked in the direction they’d pointed. He started walking, but the path was obscured to the point where he could barely make out the trail, the landscape shifting in front of him. Then there was a voice—a woman’s voice. She was calling him, guiding him.
“Zach, stay with me. Can you hear me?”
He opened his eyes and found Natalie looking down at him, tears in her beautiful eyes, anguish on her sweet face. “Natalie? Are you . . . okay?”
Through her tears, she smiled. “I will be now.”
CHAPTER 33
NATALIE STAYED WITH Zach and Julian while they were transported by helicopter to University Hospital, Marc and the others remaining behind to finish the job and answer questions from federal investigators. Zach was admitted into intensive care for tests and monitoring, while Julian was rushed into surgery, where a team of doctors hoped to remove the bullet from his shoulder and reattach his severed thumb.
Despite her objections, Natalie found herself shooed into the waiting area. It was only then that the horror of the past two hours hit her, leaving her weak and shaking. She struggled not to cry, getting herself a cup of coffee, hoping it would ward off the chill that had taken hold inside her. People stared at her damp clothes, bare feet, and wet, tangled hair, but she didn’t care. Let them try to hang on to a slippery roof twenty-four stories in the air during a thunderstorm while evil men tortured the man they loved, and see what they looked like afterward.
“Natalie?”
Natalie turned toward the sound of her own name. “Tessa!”
The two women hugged.
“You’re ice-cold. Your clothes and hair are damp. Bless your heart!” Tessa drew back, slipped her sweater off her shoulders. “Wear my cardigan.”
Natalie slipped into the warm blue cashmere, touched that Tessa would consider her comfort when she must be terribly worried about Julian and desperate to know how he’d been hurt. “Thanks.”
They found a quiet corner and Natalie told her what had happened—or what she knew of it, which wasn’t all that much. She stopped when she got to the part about dead bodies and blood. “I’m not sure I should be telling you any of this, with the baby.”
Tessa put on a brave smile. “The little guy is fine, and Julian will be, too. Chief Irving says Julian stopped to help a pregnant woman with a flat tire, and she shot him.”
Natalie hadn’t heard that. “I wondered what had happened.”
It would take some kind of deception to get the best of a man like Julian.
Tessa’s smile crumpled. “What sickens me is knowing that he was thinking of
me
when he stopped to help her. He’s a good man with a soft heart, especially when it comes to women. And it almost got him killed.”
Natalie took Tessa’s hand. “I’m sorry, Tessa. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“It’s not your fault.” Tessa gave her hand a squeeze. “Julian does a dangerous job. I’ve known that since I met him, and it’s part of why I respect and love him. We’ll get through this. We’ll all get through this. At least he’s alive.”
And Natalie wondered if she’d be able to respond with half as much grace if she were in Tessa’s position.
THE HOURS DRAGGED by as Natalie and Tessa waited, sharing a quiet dinner in the hospital cafeteria and getting to know each other in a way they hadn’t before. Holly and Kara came with a change of clothes, shoes, and a makeup kit so that Natalie should freshen up and have something dry to wear. Then investigators arrived to interview Natalie, followed by the media. Hospital security took Natalie and Tessa to a private waiting room upstairs to keep the media from pestering them—except for their own paper, of course.
Tom sent Matt to cover the shoot-out, as he was the only member of the I-Team available. Kat was still on the rez. Sophie was home with her own kids and babysitting Tessa’s daughter. Comfortable only reporting the facts, Natalie told Matt what she could—which was far more than any other media outlet would be able to report.
“Good God, Natalie,” Matt said when she finished. “If you don’t get a Pulitzer out of this, I will personally kick the committee’s ass.”
Then he left, headed back to the newsroom for a late night of deadline reporting.
“Tessa Darcangelo?” A doctor in surgical garb stepped into the room, his green surgical mask around his neck.
Tessa’s face went white. She stood. “I’m Tessa.”
The doctor came over, shook her hand. “Your husband’s lost a fair amount of blood, so we transfused him. We were able to remove the bullet, and that injury should heal well. He’ll have stiffness and pain in his shoulder for a time, but the bullet hit muscle, so there was no injury to the structure of the joint itself.”
“Thank goodness! What about his thumb?”
“We’ve reattached it. There’s blood flow. But we won’t know for some time how much function or sensation he’ll have. He’s awake and in recovery now, so if you’d like to see him—”
“God bless you! Yes, I’d love to see him.” Then Tessa turned, took Natalie’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. “I hope they bring good news about Zach soon.”
Natalie smiled, hoping the very same thing. “Go be with your husband.”
IT WAS ALMOST midnight by the time doctors came for Natalie with the welcome news that none of the tests showed permanent damage to Zach’s heart—and that Zach had been asking for her.
“Oh, thank God! When can I see him? I’d like to stay with him tonight.”
“Only family are allowed back into the ICU.”
And so she lied. “I’m his wife.”
Back in the ICU, she found Zach asleep, his naked body covered only at the groin, by a towel. Electrodes were attached to his chest and side, IVs in his left arm, an oxygen tube beneath his nose. There were red blotches on his torso, dressings on his right shoulder and left thigh where bullets had grazed him—proof of how much he’d risked and how much he’d suffered to protect her.
She took his hand, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m here, Zach. I’m going to stay right here beside you.”
IT WAS A combination of fluorescent light and a woman’s sweet voice that woke him.
Zach opened his eyes, found Natalie sitting next to him, her gaze fixed on the heart monitor screen, worry and exhaustion lining her pretty face. “Angel.”
She looked down at him, her lips curving in a sweet smile. “How do you feel?”
“Not too bad . . . for a dead guy.”
Her smile vanished. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“Sorry.” He glanced around. “I thought they were moving me out of ICU.”
She stroked his cheek. “Not till later this morning—and only if your heart keeps beating like it should.”
His tests had come back normal, no sign of organ damage, external burns only. He was one lucky son of a bitch, and he knew it.
He reached up and ran a knuckle down her cheek, needing to touch her. “How can you look so beautiful after all you’ve been through?”
“I don’t.” Her smiled returned. “They’re just giving you good drugs.”
“You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.” He slid his fingers into her hair, savoring the silky feel of her dark strands. “I love you, Natalie.”
There. That didn’t hurt, did it, McBride?
Her eyes widened, and she looked down at him, searching his eyes as if trying to see whether he truly meant it. “Zach, I—”
“Shh.” He pressed his finger to her lips. “When I realized I was going to die, the only thing I could think about was you and what an idiot I’d been for not telling you how I felt about you. I think I’ve loved you from the moment you lifted that awful blindfold off my face. I opened my eyes, and there you were, the bravest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You set me free, Natalie. In so many ways, you set me free.”