Fighting Redemption (35 page)

“Kendall.”

Redirecting his gaze from the horizon ahead, Ryan looked to his teammates—Monty, Galloway, Tex, Nathan and Simon, the man temporarily replacing Kyle—but no one was looking his way. His brows drew together. “Did you say something, Monty?”

Monty shook his head.

Shrugging it off, Ryan glanced around the inside of the chopper once more before looking back to the horizon. Almost there. He could just make out brief tufts of smoke ahead. His breath caught when a big explosion imploded an entire building in a thick plume of orange and grey.

“Motherfucker!” Nathan shouted. “Did you see that?”

With his back facing what lay ahead, Monty met Ryan’s eyes. Ryan tipped his chin to the skylin
e
and Monty turned. “Fuckers have got the rocket launchers out.”

“We can’t get too close,” the pilot shouted, tilting his head as he gave Monty a quick glance. “We need you out fast!”

From his peripheral vision he saw the choppers behind them peel off in different directions—aiming for alternate insertion points to enable a full-scale attack.

“ETA five minutes,” the pilot yelled.

With his heart thundering in his chest, Ryan wished he could take Fin’s photo out of his pocket for one last glance, but there was no time.

Instead, he closed his eyes and saw her instantly. Her blonde locks in a wild tangle, her eyes sleepy, her lips curled as she woke up in bed next to him. That’s how he liked to remember her best because she would snuggle into his side, and all that warm, naked flesh would press up against him. Nothing felt better. Even now—his heart pounding fiercely—didn’t compare to how it felt waking up beside her in the morning. Ryan remembered telling her just that the morning after the impromptu birthday party Fin had pulled together for him.

“What?”
she’d muttered sleepily, pushing hair from her face as she blinked and focused her pretty green eyes his way.

“You.”

Her finger trailed a torturously slow path down his chest, her lips curving lazily when he shuddered with pleasure.
“What about me?”

“You’re my heart,”
he replied softly.

Tucking his hands behind his head, Ryan focused his gaze on the ceiling of Fin’s bedroom to give his pulse a chance to slow down.
“Not much compares to the rush of adrenaline when you’re in the middle of heavy fire, or when you’re screaming off inside a Hercules, or how a Black Hawk makes your stomach drop as it lurches hard in the sky. Except for you. None of it makes my heart beat the way you do.”
He tilted his head to meet her eyes and the rush of love he saw in their green depths made him feel ten feet tall.
“It’s like it’s beating just for you.”

“Kendall.”

Ryan’s eyes flew open and once again he looked to the Black Hawk occupants, but no one was looking his way. His brows drew together. It couldn’t have been Jake. Reading his letter had been like a final goodbye. Since then, the voices inside his head—Jake’s voice—had stopped.
Why was he here? Why now?

Ryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself.
Idiot.
Jake wasn’t
here
. Sometimes he felt like he really
was
losing his mind.

Shaking his head to clear it, Ryan forced everything from his mind.

“ETA one minute!” the pilot called out.

The Black Hawk doors were locked open, ready for a fast rope insertion. Nathan was up first. Ryan would follow directly after. Looking to Nathan, Ryan gave him a short nod. After a hard swallow and a swipe of his palms down the length of his thighs, Nathan returned it.

Unclipping his harness, Nathan stood up. At that exact moment, the chopper pitched wildly, and Ryan saw nothing but ground as the bird tilted hard right.

“Motherfucking sonofabitch,” the pilot yelled as Nathan stumbled and grabbed hold of the rope above to steady himself. “They’re aiming their rocket launchers right at us!” After a brief burst of chatter on the radio to base, the Black Hawk slowed until they were hovering a hundred feet above ground. “We’re not going in any further. You guys have to get out here.”

The thick, heavy rope went over the edge, unravelling rapidly until it hit the ground below. In what felt like slow motion, Ryan removed his harness and stood. The wind rushing through the open doors was thick and hot. Ryan rolled his shoulders, his dark eyes turning flat and hard as sweat travelled a line down the length of his back.

“Go, go go!” Monty roared over the loud, heavy thumping of the Black Hawk’s hovering rotors.

At Monty’s command, Nathan flew out the door and into the sky. Stepping up to the edge, Ryan peered downwards to watch him. Nathan’s legs and arms were locked around the rope as he slid down with ease. The ground below was hazy with thick, swirling dust—Nathan making his way right into the middle of it. With one big leap, he landed on terra firma and right into incoming fire.

“Christ,” he muttered. Nathan was getting surrounded. He needed to get out there.

With instincts firing and years of training kicking in, Ryan locked his body around the rope and launched himself out the door. Nothing else held his focus except the urgent need to hit the ground and get to his teammate.

Glancing to the horizon, he saw a rocket heading right for their Black Hawk and paused on the rope. “Incoming!” he roared, looking up to where Monty stood at the open doors.

The Black Hawk lurched upwards, tilting to the left and the rope Ryan was still attached to jerked wildly.

“We have to pull out!” the pilot called out.

“No!” Monty shouted.

For the first time, Ryan caught a slip of panic in Monty’s calm demeanour. At that exact moment, a searing pain burned through Ryan’s shoulder.
They were shooting at him!

“Sonofabitch,” he growled, his stomach rolling as pain engulfed his entire body.

Another burst of sharp agony hit his leg, and then another, until he lost count of how many bullets were slamming into him. His grip slackened on the rope.

“Kendall!” he heard Monty roar from above.

Fuck.
Time was running out. He needed off this rope before his entire team was shot down.

Ryan looked up, breathing hard as he met Monty’s eyes for a split second that stretched for an eternity.

“Don’t you fucking dare let go!” came a furious growl right in his ear.

“Jake?” he whispered.

His grip slackened further as the edges of his vision began to blur. He could feel the blood pumping out of his body. It was seeping through his clothes and dripping down his arms and legs.

“We have to get out of here!” the pilot screamed.

“Damn you, Kendall,” came a deep growl—Jake’s growl—in his ear. “Don’t you let go.”

With hands slick from sweat, Ryan slid further down the rope. His muscles burned and his mind screamed at him to hold on, but his body wouldn’t obey. “I can’t,” he gasped.

His body was weakening with every breath he drew in, and Ryan knew he couldn’t possibly survive this. He wouldn’t be going home—not alive. He would never see Fin again, never hold his son or daughter, and the agony had him crying out.

“I’m sorry, Fin.” Taking a deep breath, Ryan felt tears burn his eyes and he lost all focus. “I’m so sorry.”

Four hours later

Fremantle, Western Australia

Fin stood in the middle of the freshly painted nursery, eyeing the walls with satisfaction. The creamy lemon colour she’d chosen contrasted prettily with the white trim around the windows. She’d bought a set of sheer lace curtains that would sit over a set of white timber blinds. Fin could already see the window open, the lace billowing in the warm summer breeze.

“Alright. Time to leave and let the paint dry,” her dad ordered and began shooing her out of the room.

His efforts at getting her away from the thick, caustic fumes irritated the excitement right out of her.
Wait for the paint to dry! Was he serious?
She wanted to curl up on the floor—right in the middle of the room—and imagine Ryan was there with her. She could see him laughing at her as he worked at putting their baby’s cot together, or hanging blinds, his brow furrowing as he concentrated.

To her surprise, two deliveries had already arrived a couple of hours ago. The minute her dad and Rachael took off, she was going to start putting together as much as she could.

Fin winced when her belly twinged. It was a painful reminder that she wasn’t supposed to be doing anything except resting in bed. The maternity leave from her Government job started four weeks ago, but she hadn’t made the reason for her early departure public knowledge.

It hadn’t been long past the seventh month mark, just four weeks ago really, that her doctor sat her down and explained the problem.

“You have preeclampsia.”

Fin’s brows flew up. “Pre
what
?”

“Preeclampsia,” her doctor repeated.

“Uh, can you explain what that is?”

“It’s serious, Fin. If you hadn’t missed your last two appointments, we would have detected this earlier. You—”

“I didn’t mean to miss them,” she cut in, anxiety creeping into her voice. “It was work. They know I’m leaving and I swear they’ve loaded me under until I can’t breathe. How serious are we talking? Do I have to take a couple of days off?”

“Fin.” Her doctor arched a brow in stern disapproval. “You’re done with work. As of right now. You’re on strict rest until your baby arrives.”

“But …”

“Your blood pressure is extremely high.”

“It’s stress. I just feel so anxious all the time. I can’t relax. Not until Ryan’s home.”

“According to your urine test today, the high levels of protein are telling us it’s not just stress.”

“So if I just lie around for a bit, it’ll go away?”

Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple, and now the birthing plan she had mapped out—from the music, to the levels of pain relief, to who she wanted with her—was all moot. Her baby’s growth level was starting to drop off, and the twinges in her belly were becoming more frequent.

“We’re booking you in for a caesarean, Fin. Two weeks before your due date.”

Honestly? She felt robbed. Denied the right, and the experience, of a natural labour in favour of something so much more cold and clinical. It was something she would have to email Ryan about, but she’d been putting it off. In a previous email he’d mentioned he could be there on Skype during the labour, if she wanted him there, that was. She did, but it seemed her body had other plans.

“Dammit,” Fin muttered as she shuffled her way over to the couch and splayed herself out with more than a little effort.

Rachael followed behind, leaning down to wrap her in a hug. She squeezed a little before pulling back. “See you tomorrow.”

Fin’s brows drew together. “Tomorrow’s Monday.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rachael grinned. “But someone has to keep an eye on you.”

Fin didn’t relish the idea of being placed under a microscope. Still, it served her right, she supposed. All those mock labour pains done in jest to get her way were coming back to bite her. “Don’t you have deadlines or something?”

“Or something,” Rachael replied, quirking her brow. “Besides, Kyle’s always over here checking on you. I’m starting to worry I’m losing my bff status. Why else do you think I’d be spending my Sunday rolling paint all over your walls?”

“Oh, I see,” Fin muttered and snagged a cushion. Panting from the effort, she wedged it behind her head.

“What do you see?”

“It’s not really about me at all. You’re just worried Kyle’s going to get more time with the little baby in here.” Fin patted her huge belly for effect.

“I’m supposed to be the cool Aunt Rach.” Rachael picked up her bag off the coffee table and flung it over her shoulder. “He’s not coming in at the last stretch and stealing that baby away with all his ‘cool Uncle Kyle’ shit,” she air-quoted.

After Rachael plucked her keys from her bag, Fin reached out and snagged her hand. “Thank you.”

Rachael’s brows flew up as she looked at Fin. “For what? Being a jealous twat?”

Fin laughed. “No. For being the best friend a girl could ever ask for.”

Looking a little glassy-eyed, Rachael gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Just don’t expect it all the time.”

Her dad walked out of the laundry and Fin let go of Rachael.

“Well that’s the brushes and paint trays all clean,” he announced and leaned over the back of the couch to press a quick kiss to Fin’s forehead. “Your mum will be over in a couple of hours, love.”

Fin didn’t complain as she waved them out the door. She was suddenly exhausted and needed her mum. Her legs ached and her belly was cramping enough for her to gasp. Were they those ghosty pains they were talking about in birthing class? What were they called? Braxton Hicks. What the hell kind of a name was that anyway? Maybe it might be a good idea to call her doctor in the morning. With the decision made to do just that, Fin drifted off into a quiet doze.

An hour later she was startled awake by a knock at the door. Blinking, she called out, “Just a minute!”

Using the arm of the couch as a lever, she pushed herself to a standing position. One step towards the door and she found herself doubled over, her belly tightening with a pain that couldn’t be normal. Breathless, she wiped at her clammy brow as she moved towards the door.