Chapter Eight

The chime of the doorbell dragged Taya through the heavy blanket of sleep to consciousness. Blinking, she automatically glanced beside her. But Nathan was gone. She only vaguely remembered him saying goodbye. The early morning light filtering through the edges around the blind told her it was still early. Who would be at their door at this hour?

Grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed, she shrugged it on and dragged herself to her feet, bracing for the inevitable wave of nausea. Early morning seemed to be the toughest for her, when her stomach was empty.

The doorbell rang again.

“Coming,” she called out, moving faster. Out of the bedroom and into the hallway, past the living room and kitchen to the entryway. She paused to check through the peephole, surprise jolting through her when she saw Briar standing in the hallway.

Dread congealed in the pit of her stomach as she pulled it open. Oh, my God. Nathan… “What’s wrong?” She wouldn’t have shown up like this, at this hour, if it wasn’t bad.

The other woman regarded her in silence for a moment. “Can I come in?”

Taya folded her arms across her middle, the protective gesture instinctive. “What’s happened?” They were friends now, but it had taken months of effort on Taya’s part. Briar was slow to trust, and even slower to warm to people. Her coming here like this scared the shit out of Taya.

Briar set a hand on Taya’s shoulder and gently turned her around as she stepped inside. “Let’s sit down.”

Her entire body stiffened, alarm bells blaring in her head. “I don’t want to sit down. Tell me what’s wrong.” Please let Nathan be alive. Please let him be okay.

Briar ignored her, kept hold of Taya’s upper arm as she steered her toward the living room couch. Taya dropped onto it, her legs stiff, wooden, and stared at the other woman, a hard knot forming in her throat.

Briar met her gaze without flinching, but Taya read the sympathy in those dark eyes. “There’s been an accident.”

The word echoed in her ears. “What kind of accident?”

“The plane the guys were on hit something shortly after takeoff. It made a crash landing in a field.”

Both hands flew to her mouth, horror, terror and denial exploding inside her. She shook her head. “No.”

Briar laid a hand on Taya’s knee. “The team survived the crash, and evacuated everyone on board. Vance and Nate went back to rescue some crewmembers. There was a big explosion.”

Tiny pinpricks needled her skin as the blood drained from her face. “He’s not dead.” He couldn’t be. She couldn’t deal with that.

Briar held her gaze, her hand a comforting weight on Taya’s leg. “He was hurt really badly, Taya. They transported him to the hospital. He’s undergoing emergency surgery right now.”

Nausea swept through her, cold and oily in the pit of her stomach. She shoved to her feet. “I have to get to him,” she blurted, and rushed for the bedroom.

Briar was right behind her. “I’ll drive you.”

Taya didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Shock and fear clouded everything, and the blockage in her throat increased until she was sucking in ragged gasps. Her hands shook, teeth chattering as she dragged on jeans and a sweater. Her nose and the backs of her eyes burned.

She didn’t bother to hide or wipe away the tears as they spilled over. This was the cruelest thing that could ever have happened to her. Losing Nathan would rip her heart out and destroy her soul. And even considering the possibility of their child never knowing his or her father almost brought her to her knees.

But she couldn’t think about any of that now. Wouldn’t. She had to get to Nathan as soon as possible. He was a fighter. He would fight through this. She would make sure he did.

Briar was standing in the bedroom doorway when Taya came out of the closet. “You ready?”

Taya nodded and rushed past her, pausing only to grab her purse before flying out the door. “What injuries does he have?” she managed once they were driving away from the building.

“I don’t know, but it sounds like internal injuries. Head injury, possible brain injury as well. That’s all Matt knew when he called. He’s flying up here right now.”

Taya closed her eyes. God. But of course. If Nathan had been caught up in that kind of an explosion, all of that was inevitable. She appreciated that Briar wasn’t sugar-coating any of this, instead giving it to her straight. “Did he say what Nathan’s chances were?”

“No.”

“And Sawyer?”

“He was conscious when they loaded him into the ambulance. I’m not sure if he’ll need surgery. The rest of the team was banged up, but from what I understand, nothing too severe.”

Just Nathan.

Taya leaned her elbow on the doorframe and covered her mouth with her hand, fighting to hold it together while her mind conjured up nightmarish images of Nathan being blown apart by the explosion. Or burned by the flames.

She swallowed a sob, couldn’t stop the hitch in her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” Briar murmured, skillfully zipping her way in and out of traffic, doing everything she could to get Taya to the hospital as fast as possible.

Unable to answer, Taya nodded. She pictured Nathan on the operating table, his beautiful, strong body torn and burned. Cut open while the surgeons fought to repair the damage to his internal organs. She struggled to remember what she’d said and done before he’d left this morning. Had she kissed him? Told him she loved him?

Time dragged until Briar sped up to the Emergency entrance doors. Taya’s fingers were so cold she fumbled to get the seatbelt undone, and by the time she had, Briar was right there, opening the door for her. “Come on. They’re all inside waiting for us.”

Panic and dread sluiced through her. She didn’t think she could take seeing the rest of the team right now, the pity on their faces. Seeing them all healthy while her husband was fighting for his life in the operating room.

Briar took her hand. Taya closed her numb fingers around Briar’s, her body on autopilot as she followed the other woman through the large automatic doors.

The musky, slightly sweet smell of the hospital made bile rush into her throat. She swallowed hard, her heart beating like the wings of a frantic, trapped bird beneath her ribs. The overhead lights seemed overly bright, casting a glare over everything.

When they rounded the corner, she stopped dead, her feet refusing to carry her any farther. The low murmur of male voices stopped, everyone falling silent as the five remaining members of Nathan’s team stood and faced her.

All five of them were dressed in the same tactical uniforms that Nathan had been wearing when he’d left this morning. All five of their faces streaked with smoke and grime, their uniforms smattered with blood. A few of the women were there as well.

Rachel was pressed into Jake’s side, her dark hair mussed, eyes swollen.

Summer had her arms around Adam’s waist, her skin blotchy and her nose red.

Celida clung to Tuck’s hand.

Zoe stood next to Clay with a serious case of bedhead going on and not a drop of her usual dramatic makeup on, her husband’s powerful arm draped over her shoulders in silent comfort.

They all stared at Taya in utter silence. And the weight of all those sympathetic eyes on her was more than she could bear.

A cry of fear and hysteria shot up into her throat. Taya bit it back, somehow kept it from bursting free even though she wanted to scream, wake up from this nightmare.

Tuck stepped forward, his deep brown eyes full of sorrow. “Taya.” He lifted a hand as though he would lay it on her shoulder.

Taya retreated a step, unable to stand him touching her. Tuck lowered his hand and didn’t say anything. She wrapped her arms around her torso, freezing inside, and found her voice. “Are they still operating?” The words came out hoarse, as though she’d been screaming. And she had been, inside.

He nodded, his face lined with concern. “He’s been under for over forty-five minutes now.”

So he was still alive. “Did they tell you anything else?”

“No. Nothing yet.”

“Was he conscious at all?”

Tuck shook his dark blond head. “I got to him as soon as I could. But he wasn’t conscious.”

She prided herself on staying calm. On looking at the positive. Except her husband had never fought for his life like this. She’d never been on the verge of losing the man she loved with all hear heart.

Staring into Tuck’s sorrowful eyes, she broke. Her face crumpled. She buried it in her hands, at once embarrassed and overcome. Her shoulders jerked, the first hard sob tearing free from between her clenched teeth. It came out ragged. Raw. The cry of a mortally wounded animal.

Strong, yet gentle hands gripped her shoulders and tugged her forward. She was powerless to resist as Tuck drew her to his chest, wrapping her close in his arms. “He’s a fighter, Taya,” he murmured, his tactical shirt smelling of smoke and sweat. “You know how stubborn he is. And he’s going to do everything in his power to pull through this, because he’s got you and the baby to live for. He’ll fight for you.”

He knew about the baby. Nathan must have told them this morning, before boarding the plane.

Taya leaned her forehead on his chest and battled to stem the tears, but it was so hard when her heart was fracturing into a thousand jagged shards of glass.

She became aware of another hand rubbing her back gently, realized Briar was still there. Taya sucked in a shuddering breath and straightened, wiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I want to talk to a doctor,” she choked out. She needed to know what was happening, and she needed to know it now.

“Okay.”

Tuck and Briar steered her over to the row of plastic chairs that lined the hallway wall. Clay’s hard face seemed carved from granite when he gently clasped her shoulder as she passed. The others murmured to her, words of sympathy and encouragement, and stepped out of her way. Then Tuck put her into a chair with the promise of bringing back someone to update her on Nathan’s condition.

Zoe crouched down in front of her, her turquoise-streaked black hair hanging lank around her shoulders. “Hey, sweetie.” She took one of Taya’s hands, folded her warmer ones around it gently, and squeezed. “No matter what happens, we’re all here for you, okay? Every last one of us.”

She forced a tight smile and nodded once. “I know.” She appreciated the support and camaraderie. But they couldn’t do anything for her. No one could, except the doctors working to save Nathan’s life.

It took forever for someone to come talk to her. Briar and Tuck accompanied her into a room where a doctor gave a brief update on Nathan. Saying he was still in surgery where surgeons were trying to repair his collapsed lung, lacerated spleen and liver. No one was entirely sure yet about the severity of the head injury. They would perform more tests once Nathan was in the recovery room.

Assuming he survived the operation.

After the doctor left, Taya leaned her head back against the wall and stared at the closed door, a million turbulent thoughts tumbling through her brain.

Tuck stood and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Can I get you anything?”

Taya started to shake her head, but Briar interrupted. “Get her some weak tea and toast or crackers. Maybe some fruit.” She lifted a tentative hand to brush a curl away from Taya’s face, Tuck already heading out the door. “I bet you’re a little sick to your stomach in the mornings now, huh.”

Surprised, Taya looked at her. “A little.” She rested a hand over her abdomen, striving for at least the semblance of calm. She had to have faith. Be strong.

But she’d never been tested like this before. Not even during her captivity, or the desperate flight through the mountains when she’d escaped. Or that terrifying hostage situation during the Qureshi trial.

Losing Nathan frightened her more than any of that.

“You’re shivering. I’ll go find you a blanket.” Briar stood. “Need anything else?”

“I’m going to call my family. Let them know.” She needed to hear her father’s and brother’s voices.

“Okay. I’ll give you some privacy for a bit, but if you need anything, I’ll be right outside the door.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, pointing behind her.

“Thanks.”

A few moments later she was alone. In the sterile silence of the empty room, Taya pulled her phone from her purse and dialed her dad. “Dad?” Her voice cracked. She bit her lip, swallowed the tears rushing to the surface once more. “It’s Nathan. He’s been hurt.”

The call ended with her dad promising to get on the next flight there. She called her brother next, but there was no answer. Sometimes he couldn’t answer the phone while at work, so she texted him.

After waiting several minutes for him to respond, she sighed and lowered the phone to her lap, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. The fear was still there, the anxiety, but the panic had faded now, leaving a sucking exhaustion in its place.

Her eyes snapped open when the phone vibrated in her hand. She jerked it from her lap, expecting to see a response from her brother. But it wasn’t a Kentucky area code. The number was vaguely familiar though.

I just saw the news. Is he okay? Was he involved?

It took a few seconds for it to hit her. Then realization dawned.

Nathan’s sister. She must have seen or heard a story about the crash. The reporter must have mentioned the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team being involved.

Taya bit the inside of her cheek, debating what to do. She’d made the mistake of giving Dara her cell number, not realizing Nathan would have such a harsh reaction to his sister establishing contact. And because Taya hadn’t seen any harm in it at the time.

For a moment, she considered deleting the message and blocking the number, because she knew that was what Nathan would want. But something stopped her. Bad history or not, Dara and Nathan were family. The only blood family they had left, now that their mother was gone. Dara at least deserved an answer, to know what was going on.

So Taya did the polite thing and typed out a short response.

No. He’s in surgery.

A few seconds passed before the response came back. Oh, my God. How bad is he?

About as bad as it could get. He’s fighting for his life.

She lowered the phone back to her lap, waiting for a reply. It had barely touched her thigh when it began ringing.

Taya stared at the screen, wrestling with her conscience. Her impulse was to answer it, but she held back.

Nathan had been so angry about Dara contacting her. He wasn’t the sort of man to cut someone out of his life without good reason, and Dara’s behavior about the inheritance after their mother’s funeral proved what kind of a person she was. He didn’t want her in his life. Didn’t want her in Taya’s or their baby’s life, either. It was so out of character for the loving man she knew, Taya had to respect it, even if she wished his relationship with Dara was different.

Her resolve hardened. She declined the call, and sent another message instead. I’ll let you know what happens.

The phone rang again, the ring somehow more urgent this time. Almost annoyed. Again, Taya didn’t answer, and this time she didn’t feel bad about ignoring it.

Finally a text came back. Tell him I’ll call him once he’s better.

Taya blinked in shock, then stared at the screen in utter disbelief. Was that it? No, I’m pulling for him/praying for him, or please tell him I love him despite the distance between us. No offer to travel there as soon as possible, as her father was doing right now. As her brother would as soon as he heard the news. No words about wanting to see him, to be there for him.

And then it hit her, with all the force of a sucker punch to the stomach.

Dara wasn’t worried about him dying, didn’t care if he did. No, she was worried he would die and leave the unsettled issue of the inheritance—a small amount of money Nathan didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyway—with Taya listed as the beneficiary of all his assets.

She didn’t give a shit about her brother or what he was going through right now, what sort of recovery or maybe diminished life he faced if he pulled through this. She just wanted the fucking money.

It was the most disgusting, damning evidence Dara could have given.

And there was no goddamn way Taya would let that kind of poison touch their lives ever again.

Rage burned through the fear, obliterated the helplessness. Setting her jaw, she typed back her final message. Don’t bother. And don’t contact either one of us ever again.

As soon as she hit send, she blocked the number, instantly feeling stronger. More in control.

Resting a hand to her belly, she sent a silent message of comfort and reassurance to the fragile being tucked deep inside her body. She had a family of her own to protect now: her husband and their unborn child. She would protect them with all of her strength, until the last breath left her body.

They were everything. And next to that, nothing else mattered.