Sharpshooter (Shadow Agents #3)(15)
Author: Cynthia Eden

She stared down at Gunner’s hand. Very slowly, his hold eased.

Then he wasn’t holding her at all.

“Slade Ortez?” Logan said as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Yes.” A word that barely rose above the roar of the motor.

“You’re going to be safe now,” Logan told him. “We’re going to get you home.”

Gunner wasn’t touching her now, wasn’t looking at anyone.

She frowned at him, and realized that she could smell blood.

Sydney’s hands flew over Gunner.

“Stop!” he told her.

She wasn’t going to stop touching him because, right there, high on his left shoulder, she’d just felt something wet and sticky. Blood. “You were shot.”

His fingers curled around hers. Pushed her hand away. “It’s nothing.”

Yes, it was a bullet wound. Not some nick. “Is the bullet still in you?”

He didn’t answer, and that silence was an answer for her.

“You deserve more than that!” came Slade’s snarling voice. “Brother.” The word sounded like a curse. “You deserve to die.”

Sydney gasped at the words. “Slade, you don’t even know what you’re saying!” She remembered Gunner shoving her to the ground. The bullet that had hit the side of the jeep. Only…hadn’t she heard two shots then? Two shots, but only one bullet had gone into the jeep.

The other bullet had been meant to go in her.

Gunner took a bullet for me.

“I know…exactly…what I’m saying,” Slade growled.

No, he didn’t. He’d been in captivity. Been hurt, tortured, but the man talking, that wasn’t the man she knew. “Gunner just risked his life for you.”

They all had.

“The bullet has to come out,” she whispered to Gunner. She tried to inspect the wound again.

He gave a grim nod. But…he pushed her hand away once more.

The move just hurt.

“When we’re secure,” Gunner said, no emotion slipping into his voice. “I can handle it ’til then.”

Of course he could. Gunner could handle anything. Handle it, and keep on going. Never showing emotion.

While emotions were about to rip her apart.

They didn’t immediately head for civilization. If they were being tailed, they didn’t want anyone following them.

They changed vehicles. Once. Twice. Logan picked up the emergency cash that had been sent ahead for the mission, and only then did they head back for the coast. The sun was rising in the sky, and Sydney glanced over to see the haggard lines on Slade’s face.

He’d aged ten years in two.

The laughing man she’d known was gone. He’d never be coming back.

And as for Gunner…

His eyes weren’t meeting hers. He talked only when he had to do so, and the scent of his blood was still heavy in the air.

She pulled her gaze from his. The jungle was behind them, the gunfire just a memory. They’d all changed clothes at their last stop. Gunner had shoved a makeshift bandage over his wound, to stop the blood from leaking through to his clothes.

They didn’t look as if they’d just spent the night in the jungle. More as if they’d just been partying too much.

Except for Slade. New clothes hadn’t been able to change his appearance that much. Gaunt, grizzled. He would need more care than a five-minute pit stop could give him.

They weren’t headed back to their original resort. No, she’d made different arrangements for their accommodations postrescue. It was always important to switch bases—the better to throw off the enemy—and she’d planned for the switch.

They were headed to villas now, private villas on the beach. High-end, far away from anything but luxury. Not a place the rebel group should think to look for government agents. And that was why it would be such a perfect hiding spot.

Not that they’d be hiding for long. Soon enough, they’d all be heading back for the U.S.

Logan and Cale took care of getting the keys to the villas. Three of them, all far away from the rest, nestled on a secluded strip of beach.

Slade climbed from the vehicle, and, for a moment, he just stared at that long, stretching coast.

Gunner followed him out, and Sydney caught the faint tremble of his body. Get the bullet out. Her gaze met Cale’s, and the ex-Ranger gave a quick nod.

They forced Gunner into the first villa. Literally had to drag the guy in.

But they got him in.

“I can handle this!” Gunner muttered.

Logan tossed Sydney a first aid bag. She caught it easily and shot a glare at Gunner. “No,” she said definitely, “you can’t.” She sucked in a breath, then ordered, “Now take off that shirt.”

Slade, Logan and Cale were all in the villa, but it was a big space, with a living area, a kitchen and two bedrooms.

Gunner stripped off his shirt, and the breath she’d just sucked in burned in her throat at the sight of his bloody shoulder. “Lie down, Gunner. Go get on the bed.” She hurried to the bathroom in order to get soap and water.

When she came back, Gunner was lying tensely on the bed. Logan and Cale had Slade in the living area, giving her some privacy to work on Gunner.

She leaned over the bed, her knee dipping into the mattress.

Gunner caught her hand. “Don’t tell him,” he growled.

Her eyebrows lowered. “What are you talking about?” But the tightness in her gut told her even before he said…

“Don’t tell Slade about us.” The words seemed so cold. Or maybe she was just cold. “He doesn’t ever need to know.”

He could have just slapped her. “What about what I need?”

His jaw locked. “You need him, right?” he gritted out. “He was the one you loved. The one you were going to marry.”

She pulled her hand from him and went to work cleaning his wound. She would not look into his eyes. Now she was the one who didn’t want to see what expression stared back at her.

“I—I don’t have anything to numb the area.”

“Pain doesn’t matter.”

Always so tough. “Why do you have to pretend you don’t feel?” The words tore from her. “When we both know that you do.”

“Feeling can be dangerous.”

She hadn’t expected that answer, and, helplessly, her gaze flew back up to his.

His dark stare was burning with emotion, with feeling.

“So dangerous,” he whispered.

Her heart slammed into her ribs. She put her left hand on his shoulder, carefully; then she used tweezers that she’d sterilized to go into the wound. She was lucky. No, he was. The bullet hadn’t fragmented. She pulled it out, wincing for him, but of course, the man made of steel didn’t even flinch.