Take (Deliver 5)

As Cole tried to speak to her, she focused on reading his lips.

Can you stand?

Are you hurt?

We need to go.

She wasn’t going anywhere without Tiago.

Shoving off the floor with trembling muscles, she staggered to her feet and scanned the darkness. “Have you seen him?”

A rush of adrenaline accelerated her pulse, shaking away the crippling shock that had pinned her to the floor during those long, wasted minutes.

Cole’s arms wrapped around her, lifting her off the floor and forcing her with him. She pushed against his chest, trying to get down, to stand on her own.

He tightened his hold and took her away from the rubble where Tiago must’ve been buried.

“Nooooo!” She screamed in horror, frantically searching the destruction for his body. “I’m not leaving without him!”

Cole didn’t slow as he veered around crumbled piles of masonry, wood, and steel. With each step, her hearing returned. As did her determination.

“Go back!” She thrashed in his unbending arms. “Take me back!”

A shooter sprinted past, sweating the room with bullets. Cole took cover, dodging the gunfire while fighting down her flailing hands. Then he burst into a sprint, carrying her through a demolished doorway and into a thick haze of smoke.

“Tiago!” She choked through the suffocating smog and realized the blackness overhead was the sky.

He’d taken her outside and wasn’t stopping. His legs ate up the ground, hauling her farther and farther away from the burning mansion.

No, no no!

A sob opened her throat, and a flood of wailing screams fell out.

“Can’t leave him! Put me down. I have to go back!” She couldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t see through her blinding panic and tears.

She howled and writhed until his hand clapped over her mouth and his furious eyes came into view.

“You’re going to get us killed,” he whispered harshly. “Shut the fuck up.”

She shoved his hand away. “But Tiago—”

“He’s dead or missing.” He ran down an embankment and jumped onto a small deserted dock. “If you run back there, you’ll be dead, too.”

He dumped her in a waiting speedboat. Before she had a chance to scramble out, he slipped the tether free, fired up the engine, and shot into the black expanse of the ocean.

The sudden momentum knocked her into one of the vinyl seats. She twisted toward the rear, gripping the headrest as the island drifted away.

Rags of fire whipped along the skyline and wafted plumes of smoke above it, making the darkness even darker. The boat crashed against the waves, and as the distance stretched, reality clawed its way in.

Tiago was in that inferno, and she’d left him there.

Grief consumed her, wracking her body with violent, shuddering sobs. She’d abandoned him, something he would’ve never, ever done to her. He would’ve launched himself onto an exploding bomb before he let someone drag him away without her.

Because he loved her.

Not once had she said those words back to him, and the thought only made her more miserable. Guilt lashed in her stomach. Defeat bunched her shoulders around her ears. Despondency pounded in her head, and emptiness carved out her chest. She was utterly wretched and inconsolable.

Cole must’ve thought she’d completely lost her mind. She didn’t know how to explain her feelings, but she had about thirty minutes to figure it out before he stopped the boat.

He killed the motor, and waves lapped around them. The ocean bled into darkness. Nothing to see or hear for miles.

After checking something on his phone, he turned his angry gaze to her.

“I don’t extract unwilling people.” He rose from the driver’s seat and approached her in the rear of the boat. “Tell me I didn’t make a mistake.”

“You made a mistake.” She was numb. Depleted. Heartsick. “Turn the boat around. Take me back.”

“You want to go back to the man who poisoned Lucia for eleven years, mutilated Tate’s back, shackled him in a shack for three months, and held you against your will?” He crouched beside her and softened his tone. “Did he rape you?”

An ugly mass of emotion swelled in her throat, and she looked away.

“You care about him.” A sigh billowed past his lips. “It’s okay, Kate. You have Stockholm syndrome. I see it all time in these situations and—”

“What if it’s not that? What if my feelings are real? And I just…” Another sob rose up. “I just left him there to die.”

“He received the same military training I did. If he’s alive, he’ll get out.” His brows knitted together, and he glanced down at her thigh, where her scars peeked through the slit in the gown.

He spent the next few seconds examining her for injuries. Cuts and bruises marred her body. Her ankle was sprained, and he claimed she had a concussion.

She felt none of it. Nothing but emptiness.

“You’ve been through a lot. You need safety and friends and time to heal.” He checked his phone and returned it to his pocket. “Your ride will be here any minute.”