Maximum Risk (5 page)

Bailey had pulled through, just like Quinn knew she would. He nodded and motioned toward Kell to take point. Kell tucked his phone in his pocket before moving ahead.

Quinn crouched down next to Avery, who was still asleep. “I’ll take her.” He lifted her into his arms and rose to his feet.

Ryan stood with him, studying him. “Everything okay?”

“She needs medical treatment and I’m the most qualified.” Quinn tucked her head into his shoulder, knowing the excuse sounded lame. He refused to admit his jealousy over seeing Avery in his brother’s arms. Avery’s eyes fluttered open and met his then jumped to Ryan, which irritated the hell out of him. The fact it irritated him annoyed him even more.

“Are we leaving?” she rasped and cleared her throat.

“We’re going to wait things out in a secure location,” Ryan answered and Quinn scowled at him. His brother was not her damn keeper.

“Oh. I can walk.” She pushed against his chest but he held firm. No way would he let her walk another step.

“Rest,” he said and started walking. She was light as a feather in his arms, soft, and utterly feminine. And warm. Too warm.

He frowned down at her as Ryan fell into step behind them. Her cheeks were flushed and her dove gray eyes glassy. Damp tendrils of deep red hair clung to her face and neck.

“Do you have any open wounds?”

Her eyes widened. Damn it. He hadn’t meant to sound like a drill sergeant.

“Nothing major.” She cast an uncertain glance over his shoulder at Ryan.

“Pick up the pace,” he barked as they began to climb.

Avery’s head fell back to his shoulder, but her eyes remained open. He felt her watching him so he pushed harder.

“Here,” Kell announced a short time later.

Quinn looked around the grassy, rocky slope. “Where the hell is it?”

Grinning, Kell pointed toward the east.

It took a minute for him to see the small opening in the rocks a short distance away. Covered with a few precisely placed tree limbs and leaves, it would be invisible. How Bailey had found it was testament to her skills.

Kell went in first then called out that it was clear, but a tight fit. Quinn stood in front of the opening with his head cocked. Small was an understatement. He was barely going to fit.

“We aren’t both going to fit,” Avery said looking at the opening.

Not at the same time they weren’t. But how could he set her on her cut and bloody feet? The pain would be insurmountable.

“I’m not afraid of small spaces.” She pushed against his shoulder. “Please. I just want to be somewhere safe.”

The desperation in her voice made Quinn set her on her feet, still supporting her weight. To her credit she didn’t complain or even seem to notice the pain she must be in. Instead she dove into the hole.

Quinn moved to follow, but Ryan stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

“We need a secure location.”

“I know, but there’s only one way in or out.”

Quinn glanced down where Avery had disappeared. Ryan was right. With the slim chance the tangos knew about this cave—highly unlikely—but not impossible, they could close off the opening and kill them all. Or smoke them out. But Avery needed attention and the small army was getting closer. “No other choice.” He went in pursuit, leaving Ryan to bring up the rear.

His shoulders scraped rock as he moved through. It opened almost immediately into a small, damp cave illuminated by a lantern sitting in the center. Kell fiddled with his pack and Avery stood in the far corner, looking shell-shocked.

Her eyes lifted to his when he rose to his feet. Relief registered and she drew in a shaky breath. The vulnerability and relief in that one glance had him crossing to where she stood. He used his body to block her from the others.

A tremor rocked her body and her eyes pleaded with him. “I thought I could do this,” she said in a quiet voice. “I know we’re safe here. I know I’m safe with you. But it feels so…dark and small.”

Quinn reached out to touch her and she flinched. He dropped his hand and took a step back to allow her room.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just need some time to adjust. It isn’t like the cave we were in last night.”

No, it was much deeper underground and smaller. The sounds were different. The air was thinner. Hell, it spooked him a little being completely closed in by rock with only one way out. Kell, he loved this shit. Was probably marking the cave down for spelunking later on.

She had been through hell and back and although time was supposed to heal all wounds, Quinn suspected Avery would always bear the scars from what had happened to her and her friends. He didn’t need all the details to know she’d been through hell. It showed in her face, in her eyes, in her bruises. Her journey had only just begun. A wave of fury made him want to go hunting for the bastards that did this to her and wipe them off the face of the earth.

“Don’t apologize,” he said in a low tone so the others wouldn’t overhear. He wasn’t the comforting type. Hell, there wasn’t a nurturing bone in his body. That was his mother’s forte. But, he understood trauma and how it affected a person. His job as a pararescueman had taught him that.

“How long do we have to stay here?”

“Just until nightfall. A few hours.”

She drew in a deep breath and nodded, wrapping her arms around her waist, visibly pulling herself together. His respect for her grew as he watched her win the fight with her demons. Not an easy feat. And not one she would win for long. Eventually, she would have to face what had happened to her and deal with the aftermath.

“Oh,” she murmured, lifting a hand to her head as she swayed.

He reached out and slid an arm around her. “Sit.”

“I think I will.” Without grace she sank to the floor and propped her back against the wall.

Quinn shrugged out of his pack, dropped to a crouch and pressed a hand to her forehead. Clammy. Eyes glazed. Feverish. After her dip in the river and the signs of torture he needed to do a more thorough assessment. He just needed her to cooperate.

“Avery,” he said, grabbing his medic bag, “Do you hurt anywhere specific?”

“Besides everywhere?” she asked with a resigned smile.

He picked up her wrist and pressed two fingers to the artery to check her pulse. Weak and thready. Too fast, as were her respirations. Her eyes drifted closed and he gently shook her awake, as much as he hated to do it. Rest was the best thing for the body to heal, but right now he needed her awake until he finished triage.

“Avery.” He spoke her name softly as to not startle her and her eyes popped open. Much as they would for a very long time until she was able to sleep without nightmares. “When is the last time you perspired?”

Her brows drew together and she tried to speak, then licked her lips and tried again. “I don’t know. Why?”

Quinn handed her his canteen. “Sip this slowly, no matter how badly you want to guzzle it.”

She took it from him and took a sip. When she began to gulp it he pulled it away. Her glare would have put a lesser man down.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded. “I’m thirsty.”

“You’re dehydrated and it will only make you sick if you drink too fast.” He unzipped his bag and pulled out a salt packet. When he dumped it into his canteen she wrinkled her nose and refused to take it when he held it out to her.

“Drink it,” he commanded.

“You poured salt in it again.”

“It will replenish what you lost.”

Her lids were drooping again.

“Avery. Drink it.”

With a sigh she brought it to her lips and took a sip, then coughed and thrust it back at him. “It tastes just as awful as it did the last time you made me drink it,” she muttered. “Can’t you just let me rest?”

“I need to change the bandages on your feet and check for wounds. Sip that slowly while I do that and I’ll let you sleep.”

“Promise?”

Quinn nodded and picked up her feet so he could place them in his lap. He removed the old bandages and cleaned the blood and dirt from the soles and heels. Avery’s heavy-lidded gray eyes tracked his every move as she drank the saltwater slowly, as instructed. She didn’t complain when he applied a topical antibiotic and wrapped both feet in fresh bandages, but pain was written all over her face. For a moment he held her delicate feet in his hands while anger raged through his system. He knew how the minds of terrorists worked, but it didn’t make this any easier. She was a woman, for Christssake.

“They don’t really hurt anymore.”

Avery’s soft voice snapped him from his reverie. He let go of her feet to find her still watching him. When their eyes met she quickly looked away and took another drink. Quinn gave himself a mental shake and refocused.

“Are you in pain?” he asked quietly before going any further. He didn’t want to cause her any unnecessary misery. Especially in front of an audience, even if his brothers were chatting amongst themselves and pretending not to listen. They were as uncomfortable with what had happened to her as he was.

She handed the canteen back and he set it aside. “I’d rather sleep.”

He didn’t miss the distress in her tone or the way she pleaded to him with her eyes. A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up to see Ryan standing over him holding a spare uniform.

“Let her put this on,” he said.

Every one of the Wolff brothers stood six foot or more. There was no way she was going to fit the spare cammies they carried in their packs.

“We’ll make adjustments,” Ryan said reading his mind. It would swim on her, but it was something.

“I’m filthy. I’ll wear it,” Avery said, taking it from Ryan’s hand. “But, I want to keep the shirt I have on. Is that okay?”

His shirt. Quinn refused to think about what that meant and handed the shirt back to Ryan. Ryan quirked a brow and Quinn scowled at him. His brother only grinned and walked away. He was enjoying Quinn’s unease, knowing Quinn lived by a strict moral code and it pissed him off. The entire situation was inappropriate. Avery was a victim, their hostage rescue. Period.

Besides, women didn’t respond to him like they did his brother. They tended to be more comfortable around Ryan than him. Why the hell that was, he didn’t ask. He had his share of women and none of them expected more than he gave. They accepted he couldn’t talk about his job and didn’t press for a relationship because he made it clear he wasn’t looking to settle down.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he rose to his feet and turned his back, blocking her from view so she could change.

Behind him he heard Avery draw in a sharp breath. Then another. “Avery?” he questioned.

“I-I think there is something wrong…”

He turned to see her leaning against the wall, frowning at her hand, which was smeared with blood.

“I think I’m hurt,” she murmured and crumpled to the ground.

Quinn caught her before she landed and lowered her to the ground. He ran his hands over her legs, then moved to her upper body and searched for the source of the blood.

“What is it?” Ryan asked over his shoulder. “What can we do?”

Focused, Quinn pushed her shirt out of the way. The jacket she’d been wearing was already on the floor. When he found nothing he rolled her onto her side and lifted her shirt. What he saw on her lower back made his blood curdle. Someone had cut her. Deeply. Then crudely stitched it. The stitches had popped, leaving the wound open and gaping.

And she had never complained once.

Ryan let out a low, vicious curse, speaking for all of them. “What the hell did they do to her?”

“Get me your ground sheet,” Quinn said roughly. He couldn’t treat her on the dirty ground for fear of infecting the site, which was already red and puckered.

A ground sheet appeared in front of him. “Lay it out.”

He moved Avery gently onto it and turned her onto her stomach, her head to the side. She hadn’t gotten the pants past her ankles, so he pulled them up to cover her. They were inches too big in the waist and length but worked for now. Then he rolled the shirt up to her shoulder blades.

“Here, put this under her head.”

Kell handed him a folded shirt and he placed it under her cheek so she wasn’t resting on the hard, cold ground. The ground sheet was made of waxed canvas to keep the small tents they carried in their packs waterproof and mud-free. It didn’t provide cushion.

“What can we do?” his brothers asked in unison.

“Kell, perimeter check. I want to know where those troops are and how well organized. I want to know the color of their goddamn eyes. Ryan, open my bag and get out my suture kit.”

Kell moved towards the opening to do what he did best and Ryan jumped into action. With the kit open and ready he handed Quinn a stack of gauze pads soaked in iodine.

“The bastards cut her,” Ryan said, angry. “Then stitched her up. What kind of animal does that?”

Vengeance swam in his veins as Quinn cleaned the skin around the wound. Forcing it down, he pressed a pad to the wound and applied pressure to stop the bleeding. He should have forced her to let him triage her for wounds. Infection symptoms could mimic those of dehydration. His mistake for not being more forceful.

“She never said a word.”

“Fear. Adrenaline,” Quinn said gruffly. “Thread a needle.”

With precision he stitched the wound closed, gritting his teeth because her soft, silky skin would scar due to the crude way they had put in stitches. And be a constant reminder of what she had endured.

While he sewed, Ryan soaked up blood with gauze. Thank God Avery slept through it. He didn’t want to have to do this with her awake. The infection surrounding the wound would make stitching intolerable.

When he finished, he cleaned and covered the wound with a medium battle dressing to absorb blood. Not wanting to disturb her, he rolled her shirt down and prepared a site for antibiotics. After the injection he sat back on his haunches and rubbed the back of his neck.

“She’s one tough cookie,” Ryan said quietly.

Quinn stared at her cammie-covered slender form. Her copper hair fell over her shoulder, tangled and dirty. She looked small and fragile lying there, but he knew that wasn’t the case. This woman had endured three days of torture in a country rich with troubles. A weaker person wouldn’t have survived it. Avery Marks was indeed one tough woman.