Finding Carly (SEAL Team Hawaii #5)(96)

Mustang had told the nurses that Jag was Carly’s fiancé, and they’d let him go into her room after the ER doctors examined her.

She’d been exhausted. She had a bandage on her hand, a bruise on her face, and scrapes on her arms and knees. Jag had never seen anything as beautiful as Carly in that moment.

It had taken a few hours before they’d been allowed to leave. The doctors wanted to keep her at least one night, but Carly insisted on signing herself out.

Mustang had driven them home, and after a short and emotional visit with all their friends, they were finally alone. He loved their concern and happiness over Carly’s return, but he needed to have her to himself for a while.

Jag stood, then leaned over and gently picked her up. She didn’t protest, simply snuggled into him as he carried her into their bedroom. He lay her on the bed and sat next to her, taking a deep breath.

“I’m okay,” Carly said softly.

Jag swallowed hard. “I need to see for myself. May I?” he asked, reaching for the buttons at the front of the shirt she was wearing. She’d changed out of the scrubs she’d been given at the hospital as soon as she got home.

Carly nodded, and Jag quickly and efficiently stripped her out of his oversized button-down. He felt no physical desire at the moment; his fear was still too raw. He just needed to check her over from head to toe.

She lay quietly as he examined her. There were bruises on her torso and her arms were scraped, most likely from the lava rock on the island she swam to. He couldn’t see the wound on her palm, since it was bandaged, but he’d seen it at the hospital. It looked fairly gnarly, but was a clean cut and would heal fine. His eyes continued down her body, noting the scrapes on her knees, cringing at her swollen feet and the gouges on the tender soles, again from walking on the sharp lava rocks.

His gaze went back up her body and finally rested on her face. The doctor had to shave a bit of hair at the back of her head, so he could clean and put in a few stitches from where Sparks had struck her. She also had a bruise on her cheekbone, from where she’d said Gideon punched her to knock her out.

She was truly lucky to be alive after being bashed over the head with the expensive, heavy flashlight that had been found in Sparks’s car, being grazed by a tranquilizer dart made for lions, almost sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and then spending the night out in the elements.

But she was alive.

Jag could see the emotion in her eyes, and it made him want to cry. He’d come way too close to losing her. But his Carly was tough. She hadn’t survived because of anything he’d done. No, she’d done it all on her own. She’d saved her own damn self—and he couldn’t be prouder.

“Come here,” Carly said, holding out her arms.

Jag took off his shirt before he lay down next to her. He pulled her into his arms and reached down and eased the comforter up and over them. After a moment, he realized that he was shaking…and Carly was smoothing a hand over his chest and murmuring gently.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” she said.

God. This woman.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “No, I think I’m just stubborn.”

Jag barked a quiet laugh. “I’m sorry—” he started, but Carly shook her head and went up on one elbow.

“No, don’t do that.”

“I have to,” he said. “You were taken right out from under my nose. We had no idea where you were. Detective Lee was the one who contacted the Coast Guard and asked them to be on alert, just in case. We were going to make Sparks tell us where you were, but he killed himself. We had nothing to go on. You could’ve been anywhere.”

“You would’ve found me,” Carly said.

Jag couldn’t believe she still had just as much confidence in him as she had before getting snatched. All he could do was press his lips together and shake his head.

“Jag, seriously, the only reason I survived was because of you. First of all, I knew you’d never rest until you found me. Second, I thought about what you went through as a child, and how strong you were, and knew if I could have a fraction of your strength, I’d be okay. Third, everything you ever taught me about personal safety ran through my head. If I just sat there and let Gideon carry out his plans, I would’ve been dead for sure. So, I ran through my options and decided I’d rather take my chances with the sea.

“Fourth, I remembered all the stories you told me about Hell Week and how the only thing that kept you going was a positive attitude. Fourth…wait…fifth? I lost count. Anyway, I had that knife in my pocket that you insisted I carry with me. I have to admit, I thought it was overkill at first, but I’ll never doubt you again. It saved me. I would’ve run out of air if I couldn’t cut off the weight Gideon tied to me.

“I also fucked up in a lot of ways. I never should’ve let Gideon get close to me in that parking garage. I let down my guard because he seemed so…unassuming. He was being nice, and saying the right things, and I trusted him when I shouldn’t have. I took my eyes off him for a split second and that was all the chance he needed.

“Please…I can’t deal with you feeling guilty because you didn’t physically show up to get me off that island. Or because you couldn’t make Gideon tell you where I was. You might not have been there in person, but every minute of the time I was with Gideon—well, when I was conscious, that is—you were with me. Without you, I would’ve been a basket case in the bottom of that boat, and he would’ve succeeded in finishing Shawn’s plan. You gave me the strength to fight back. To not give up.”