Hidden Away (KGI #3)(70)

“Why the hell didn’t we know until now?” Sam demanded.

“Fuck if I know,” Donovan bit out. “Signal may have been interrupted. Maybe it was the damn satellite. But the time stamp was during the night.”

“What does that mean?” Sophie asked. “Is he in trouble?”

Sam gave a short nod. Then his expression softened as he looked at his wife and child. “He wouldn’t have activated unless he was in trouble and needed help. It’s our SOS system. It means he’s down or in deep shit.”

“Go,” she said. “He needs you. I’ll be fine. I have Marlene and Rachel.”

Sam only hesitated a brief moment before leaning down to kiss Sophie and then Charlotte.

“Bring him home, Sam,” she said in an urgent voice.

“I will, baby. I promise.”

Donovan had already turned and ran back toward the war room with Sam on his heels.

“Rio will be closest. I’ll reroute Steele and his team from Alaska, but we’ll get there first after Rio,” Donovan said. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with but I’m going to assume the worst and pull every available man to get the hell down there.”

While Donovan hailed Steele and gave him the order to pull out, Sam picked up the phone and punched in a number. A few moments later, he said, “Ethan, Garrett’s in trouble. We need you.”

Donovan was already opening the gun locker. He pulled out an array of weapons and tossed two rifles in Sam’s direction. When they had their gear packed, they hustled out to the truck.

“I’ll drive. We’ll swing by to get Ethan and then head to the jet. You raise Rio and give him the coordinates,” Sam said.

The drive was silent, but Donovan knew Sam was as worried as he was. And Donovan blamed himself. He should have put a team with Garrett from day one. When he smelled a rat, he put Rio and Steele in place but it was too little, too late. He should have hog-tied Garrett to a chair if necessary to make sure he didn’t go to Mexico alone.

It was always the cake jobs that went all to shit.

GARRETT lay with Sarah in his arms listening to the quiet rhythm of her sleep. He’d shamelessly lied to her about the condition he was in. Not that he was ready for a pine box, but his ribs hurt like a bitch, and he hadn’t been able to sleep for the discomfort.

But he hadn’t wanted to scare her any more than she already was. He was damn proud of her for not losing it completely. She was scared witless, but she was also one pissed-off woman. It was the pissed-off part that worried him.

Pissed-off women were unpredictable.

He’d lost sense of time but he figured it ought to be daylight soon. Sarah had slipped into an uneasy sleep during the night and when she stirred, he’d soothed and quieted her as much for her peace of mind as to prevent her from moving too much against his ribs.

He hoped to hell he’d told her the truth about what their captors would do. Again there was that whole predictability factor at work. And while it made sense that they’d leave them to worry and wonder over their fate, wear them down, they’d already proved what stupid sons of bitches they were. He didn’t have a whole lot of faith in their intelligence.

He hadn’t fought them, which rankled. He’d meekly gone along, like some lamb to a slaughter, because he hadn’t wanted to risk anything happening to Sarah. If it had been him alone, he would have kicked some serious ass and enjoyed every minute of it. But Sarah was with him, and he’d die before allowing any harm to come to her.

His growing discomfort signaled a need to shift positions, but he didn’t want to wake Sarah. She’d finally settled into a more peaceful rhythm and he liked the sensation of her warm breath on his neck.

She’d kissed him the night before. The first time she’d initiated any intimacy between them. It was soft and so damn sweet he’d been able to forget the pain for that barest moment when her mouth had met his.

When he could stand the position no longer, he tried to edge to the side so he could turn more fully onto his back. She came awake instantly, her head shooting off his shoulder. She leaned over him, her hair falling onto his chest as she stared down at him, concern blazing in her eyes.

“Are you okay? Are you hurting?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I just need to turn onto my back for a while.”

Her hands ran lightly over his chest as she helped him roll the quarter turn onto his back. He felt an instant relief as some of the pressure on his ribs subsided. His breaths came easier and he took in several deep ones.

“Better?”

“Better,” he said. “Now come back here. I like you close to me.”

She settled into the crook of his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. Her hand ventured lightly over his chest and down toward his ribs. It was cool against the heat of his pain. A soothing balm; he closed his eyes at the sheer pleasure of her touch.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked.

“No, don’t stop. It feels damn good. I like you touching me.” He felt her smile against his shoulder.

Carefully she skimmed over his shirt, her touch so light it was almost not there. She rubbed a path to his belly and then back up again, taking care around his rib cage. Then she settled her palm against his chest, right over his heart as if reassuring herself that he was there and alive with her.

After a moment, she retraced her path downward again. He could stand it no longer. The damn shirt was in the way and he wanted to feel her hands on his bare skin like he wanted nothing else.