17
Trap’s face came into view of the camera right beside Wyatt. The entire GhostWalker team still in Indonesia stood shoulder to shoulder behind them. It was impossible to read Trap’s expression, but the others were grinning ear to ear and Draden suddenly felt as if his legs had been swept out from under him. He pulled Shylah to him, standing behind her, arms wrapped around her, relief shaking him to his core.
Trap cleared his throat several times, and only then did Draden see the emotions trying to escape. “Looks like you two are going to live.”
Cheers broke out behind Trap, his team going a little crazy.
Draden took a breath. Drew air into his lungs because he felt dizzy, the relief totally overwhelming. “Sweetheart.” He whispered it against her neck. His wife. His woman. He would have time with her. They’d beaten the odds.
His eyes burned, and she turned her head to look at him. There were answering tears in her eyes. They just looked at each other. Drank each other in. The sounds of the GhostWalkers faded away until it was just them. Draden and Shylah. “We’ve got that lifetime, baby. We asked for it and we got it.”
He kissed her. The perfection of the moment, the profound understanding that for the first time in his life, he was handed the prize. Life. Not just life, but living with Shylah.
“Baby.” He whispered the endearment softly, love welling up.
“I know,” she whispered back. “I can’t take it in, but I know what you’re feeling. I can barely breathe.” Her voice trembled. Soft little tremors went through her body. She was trying to take in the miracle as well.
“We’re going to leave you two alone,” Wyatt said. “We have to keep taking blood over the next forty-eight hours to satisfy every requirement to declare you free of the virus and to make the point to every organization and government we answer to that you are not carriers.” Wyatt still sounded a little choked up, and that drew Draden’s attention.
“Wait, how?”
“They used a hemorrhagic virus as a base in order to infect Shylah, one that kills cats,” Trap said. “It stands to reason that they’d look at it, because she has cat gene-editing. That virus does have a success rate of survival, which they’d need if she came back to them infected. They tried it on her and it didn’t make her sick at all, so they kept screwing around, trying to make it more and more potent. That was the first five vials of her blood you discovered. Each time they tested a version, they’d mutated. Her immune system was far too responsive, so they went a little crazy and then realized they had a biochemical weapon on their hands. Because you both have the same gene-editing, it allowed both of your immune systems to defeat the virus, and now you have the antibodies that we need to make a vaccine.”
Draden cleared his throat. “I can’t thank you enough. Trap, Wyatt, everyone, for hanging in there with us …” He shook his head.
Shylah nodded. “Me too. Thank you, all of you, for sticking with us.”
Trap saluted Draden, nodded at Shylah and turned away, hurrying off-camera.
“How soon can we get out of here, Joe?” Draden asked.
“Whenever you’re cleared, so enjoy yourselves while you can,” Joe said.
The honeymoon was only two short days, and between laughter and lovemaking, they gave what seemed like every drop of blood in their bodies to Joe and his continual knocking on their door. Both wanted to stay in their little paradise, but Draden could see that Shylah was getting a little restless as she began to feel better and better. She had a job to do and she wanted to get started. No one had found the three creators of the virus. She was insistent she go after them. She knew them better than anyone else and could ferret them out once set on their trail.
Both were declared virus-free by three separate U.S. military labs and a U.S. military helicopter picked them up. The entire crew surrounding them was American military, and Draden stayed on alert. The way they were acting, the crew expected an attack at any moment. They were grim, clearly on high alert, and there were no smiles and no talking.
Shylah glanced at him, but she didn’t say a word, nor did she take his hand when they entered the helicopter and chose their seats. She was the consummate professional. She’d brought along the tea set, but with that were numerous weapons, all concealed. She was as dangerous as any man there and Draden was grateful for her as a partner, not simply a lover and wife. The woman knew how to set herself up for the best possible angle. She could take both gunners and the pilot if need be.
Draden was madly in love with her and part of that was because of this, the way she accepted what was happening around her without fighting it or arguing. They would have been forced into the helicopter had they refused to go. Both went with their armed escort as if they had been expecting them—that and because Joe was with them. He was the only GhostWalker aboard, and he seated himself in a defensible position as well.
Are they with us to protect us and we’re expecting company, or are they the enemy? Draden didn’t consider any military personnel his enemy, but this was a fucked setup if he ever saw one.
Stay alert. This is about the two of you being extremely valuable. As long as they have you, they have a vaccine for the virus. Both of you carry serious antibodies. We’re getting you out of here, but I still don’t know what the intention is. I’m hoping it’s just a ride home.
Draden tried not to show how coiled and ready he was. He had cat in him and the feral predator came to the forefront when he was threatened. Now he had Shylah, and God help anyone who threatened her, because he wouldn’t stop until that threat was eliminated. He’d been afraid of this happening all along if they actually were able to beat the virus.
Why didn’t the GhostWalkers pick us up? Shylah asked. Her gaze flicked to Joe’s face. Clearly, Joe had bridged the path to Shylah as well and she was included in the silent conversation, but she hadn’t yet learned how to talk to someone without looking. That would come with time and practice.
Orders. We’ve got an escort. Our boys are very much in evidence, which pissed this crew off royally. There was a hint of laughter in Joe’s voice, but nothing changed the grim, remote expression on his face. They’re following us in a second military chopper.
We get any orders from Major General Tennessee Milton? Draden wanted to know exactly how high up they were going to have to go to be safe.
He wants you both safe. Out of harm’s way.
That was good news and the reason why his team members were so blatantly escorting the crew picking them up, their chopper running almost alongside.
Shylah and I have to pick up the trail of Whitney’s men. That means we go to Palembang. We’ll need transportation and backup.
We’re ready with that. You had indicated before that she was on their trail. If she’s an elite tracker, then we need her to find them before we have an outbreak somewhere else. These men created the virus, and that means, even on the run, they can set it loose anytime they want. Can you find them, Shylah? Are you able to do that?
Absolutely. The reply was stated with full confidence.
We’re going to resupply you. I want a list of everything you’ll need. While you talk to Trap and the others, I’ll be working to get your supplies and transportation. I’ll need a couple of hours depending on the list. Make certain you give that to me.
Shylah looked puzzled, throwing Draden a look that told him she’d nearly asked what Joe meant.
No problem. We wouldn’t mind a change of clothes and visiting with the man who worked to save our lives.
Don’t give that egotistical maniac any credit. I told him you fought the virus off, he had nothing to do with it.
Draden nearly committed the ultimate sin of telepathy—he almost burst out laughing. Trap was an egotistical maniac, but he always came through.