Graham left a speechless Rowan in his cabin and headed toward the command post. Jonah, the only married member of the team, would be waiting for him. Graham looked down at his watch; it was closing in on oh-one-hundred. Jonah had a bed with a warm, willing woman waiting for him, but tonight, so did Graham. Well, she was warm, at least. Willing was a stretch at this point.
Graham made his way to the concrete structure they’d built to house the command post and the armory. It was centrally located and was one of the few buildings that weren’t already on the premises when he’d inherited the ranch from his uncle.
Sure enough, Jonah was standing outside the door waiting for Graham.
“Perfect timing, G. They’re just coming in the west bolt hole.”
“If she’s in the shape I suspect, then she needs to go straight to Beau to get checked out,” Graham replied.
“Already radioed him.”
Three of the men—Alex, Jamie, and Cam—moved soundlessly into the compound. Alex and Jamie broke off and headed toward Graham and Jonah while Cam, woman in arms, headed toward the clinic.
Alex and Jamie were grim-faced when they stopped in front of Graham and Jonah. Graham didn’t speak, just waited for the report. Jamie slung his M4 over his shoulder and pulled a bandana out of his pocket and started to wipe the paint off his face. Alex white-knuckled his rifle. Neither spoke for a long moment, and then Jamie, normally the happy-go-lucky one of the group said, “G, you know we’ve seen some fucked up shit in our day, but I’ve never felt so good about killing someone as I did tonight. I don’t know exactly what they did to that girl, but she’s practically catatonic.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“That all of them?” Graham needed to know if they needed to be ready for someone seeking revenge.
Alex answered, “I don’t think so. There were four trailers. Seems like there should have been more.”
“You torch the trailers?”
Jamie nodded. “We lit those fuckers up like the Fourth of July.”
Alex was still shaking his head, as if picturing what they’d seen.
“They had her chained up like an animal, not that she could probably move anyway. She’s in a bad way, man. I don’t know if she’s going to make it. She was covered in blood and mud and God only knows what else. She looked like she’d been beaten almost to death. But if I had to guess, the physical injuries might be the easier ones to heal.”
Graham nodded. For all the shit they’d done and seen, violence against women bothered them the most. Zach especially, and with good reason. The human psyche was a fragile thing, and there was no telling if she’d be able to pull herself through it.
“You get a name from her?” Graham asked.
Jamie shook his head. “Lia, I think. She didn’t say much. Just went limp as soon as Cam picked her up and told her she was safe.”
Ro waited until she heard the door latch before she slid to the edge of the bed. If they’d rescued that woman, Ro was damn sure going to see her, and no one could stop her. Not that she would actually ask for permission. She knew Conan—Graham—would’ve shut her down hard if she’d gotten over her shock quickly enough to ask before he’d left.
The clinic wasn’t that far across the camp. She could hobble there. It might not be pretty or quick, but she could make it. Right?
Ro hopped out of the cabin on one foot, using the wall for support. Once she made it outside, the distance between the trees seemed to multiply. Her right quad was burning from bearing the brunt of her weight and the awkward hops. Ro leaned up against a thick oak, pausing to catch her breath before hopping forward again. So ... the clinic was a little farther away than she’d thought, and her balance was suffering with her fatigue. Stumbling, she put the full force of her weight on her injured ankle to catch herself, sending hot streaks of pain shooting up her leg. Holy shit, that hurt like a mother. Not doing that again.
After what seemed like an hour, Ro leaned up against the wood-sided wall of the clinic and could make out Beau’s black hair and another man through the window. Thank fuck it wasn’t Graham. Somehow she knew he’d make her regret this little jaunt. She pulled the door open and hobbled inside.
Beau was rolling around on his stool, grabbing supplies, and Ro could make out a blanket-covered form with a mass of brownish hair on the pillow. She couldn’t be sure of the actual color, as the brown seemed to be mostly from dirt. At least Ro hoped it was dirt. The woman’s face was a swollen mass of overlapping, multi-colored bruises; she looked like she was wearing a Halloween mask. A man with buzzed light brown hair was standing over her. Ro swallowed back the rising bile. She just hoped that her interruption of the creepy trio had saved the woman from further abuse.
“Fuck me running. Are you serious right now?” Beau was looking at Ro with disbelief. “How the hell did you get here? And don’t tell me you walked.”
His snapping blue eyes dared Rowan to lie to him … or maybe they were daring her to tell the truth.
“I—” Ro started to explain—something, somehow—when two large hands wrapped around her waist from behind and yanked her off her feet. Before she could make a sound—or complain about being manhandled—a deep voice filled her ear.
“I’d like an answer to that same damn question, woman.”
Ro could feel his hot breath on her ear and against her neck. He was holding her suspended, his hands nearly spanning her waist. And Ro didn’t have a tiny waist.
Before her thoughts could head fully into the gutter, he spoke again, “I’m pretty damn sure I left you in my bed not fifteen minutes ago and told you to bed down for the night.”
Ro squirmed in his hold. “Seriously? You didn’t see this coming? You honestly thought you could tell me to stay put and I would? Especially after what you told me?”
As Rowan’s voice started to get louder, the man with the high and tight buzz cut stalked over.
“Keep your voice down. Or do you want to wake her up and scare the shit out of her?”
Ro looked down, chastened. “I’m sorry. He just ... pisses me off. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me you didn’t walk over here yourself,” Graham said in a low, quiet, and quite frankly, scary as hell tone.
Ro figured he meant that rhetorically, and didn’t bother answering.
“I swear—” Graham started, but Beau interrupted.
“This isn’t the place to be having this discussion.”
“I just wanted to see—” Rowan began to speak, but shut her mouth when Graham threw her over his shoulder, caveman-style.
“Now you’ve seen. And we’re leaving.”
Turning her face away from his black shirt, Ro could see the amused smirks on the faces of Beau and the other men. Assholes. Every last one of them.