Rachel. His wife. He was taking her home.
“Ethan,” P.J. murmured beside him.
He turned when she nudged him, and she gestured to a point in the distance. He followed her stare and saw Garrett striding toward the chopper, Rachel in his arms.
He forgot everything else. Uncaring of how it looked, he broke into a run, ignoring the ache in his head and the soreness of his muscles. All that mattered was that he get to her.
Garrett stopped and waited for Ethan to come to him. Sam and Steele passed and Sam put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder.
“Get her and come on,” Sam murmured before he walked on by.
“Is she okay?” Ethan asked around the catch in his throat.
“Sam sedated her. It was pretty bad,” Garrett said after a pause.
Ethan took her from Garrett, marveling at the feel of her in his arms again after so long. This time he absorbed the sensation, where before he’d thrown her over his shoulder so they could move quickly.
“Come on, let’s get her in the chopper,” Garrett said.
Ethan cradled her in his arms and walked over to get into the helicopter as they were pulling the net from the tail rotor. He sat as the others took their seats and Donovan climbed into the cockpit.
Ethan stared down at Rachel’s delicate face and took his first long look at his wife since he’d burst into her hut.
Her clothes were ratty, the shorts thin and threadbare. Her T-shirt had numerous holes and was matted with dirt. She wore no shoes, and her hair hung limply on her head. But to him, she had never looked more beautiful.
Emotion overcame him, his throat swelled and tears burned his eyelids. Unable to think, to react, he simply pressed his lips to her forehead and held on to her as tightly as he could.
“I have to admit, I was skeptical,” Sam said as he slid onto the floor beside Garrett and in front of Ethan.
Ethan looked up to see sorrow and regret burning brightly in his brother’s eyes.
“I’m damn glad we got her out.”
Ethan nodded. “I owe you one, man. I owe you all.”
“Bullshit. You don’t owe us anything. I’m mad as hell we couldn’t have been here sooner,” Garrett growled
“I don’t understand,” Ethan ground out. “Why? Why her?” He buried his head in her hair. “What did she ever do to deserve any of this?”
He sucked in several steadying breaths. He felt close to going completely insane with anger, grief and guilt. How could he have not known she was alive? He should have demanded more proof. Instead, he’d blindly accepted the proclamation that his wife wasn’t ever coming back home.
Sam leaned forward to allow Steele to step over him. “The important thing is you have her back.”
Yes. He had her back, and he’d kill any son of a bitch who ever tried to take her from him again.
“She okay?” Steele asked as he took position on the other side of Sam.
Ethan noticed the blood on Steele’s arm and the way he grimaced when he sat down. Ethan looked over at Sam, who shook his head. It wasn’t serious, but Steele looked none too happy with the injury.
Ethan swallowed and answered Steele’s question. “I don’t know yet. I think they have her hooked on drugs.”
Anger tightened Steele’s jaw, and his blue eyes flashed. “We should have just dropped a bunch of C-4 and been done with the ass**les.”
P.J. slid in next to Ethan, while Baker, Renshaw and Dolphin climbed in the back to be near Cole, who was out like a light. Dolphin stretched out and let out a moan. He put his hand over his ribs.
“Man, I think I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Ethan felt some of the tension leave him. He began to shake as reality set in.
“Want me to take her?” Sam asked.
Ethan shook his head, tightening his grip on her. She still wasn’t conscious, thank God. The sedative had done its job.
“Thank you,” Ethan said loud enough for the others to hear.
“You would have done the same for one of us,” Steele said with a shrug. The action made him wince again, and he held his hand to his shoulder. Ethan could see blood seep between his fingers. “And truth is, when you told me what had happened to Rachel, I was itching to kick some cartel ass. I’m just glad she’s okay.”
Was she okay? That was the million-dollar question. She was alive, but who really knew how she was. The bastards had shot her up with drugs for God knows how long. Certainly long enough to get her addicted. She had been in the throes of withdrawal when Sam found her. Ethan didn’t even want to dwell on what else they might have done to her.
He needed to get her to a doctor fast. But first they had to get the hell out of here. Alive.
The whir of the blades and the roar of the engine cut off anything else Ethan might have said. Within seconds, Donovan lifted off the ground and skimmed along the trees. In the distance, smoke could be seen floating skyward in a black stream. Ethan’s nostrils flared. He wished they’d done exactly as Steele had said and dropped a load of C-4 and been done with it.
Ethan leaned back and shifted Rachel so that she was even closer to him. It didn’t matter that they were both dirty, they stunk, and they had more dirt and mud caked on them than a hog. She was his. She was a miracle.
He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the slight movement against his body gave him much needed reassurance.
He kissed her and kept his lips pressed to her head. No matter what, this time he wouldn’t make the same mistakes he’d made before. He’d cherish each day with her.