“Yeah, you have pneumonia,” Ryder agreed when she could finally catch her breath. “Let’s get you out of here and to a hospital.”
“Can’t.” She jiggled her left wrist which had a metal cuff locked around it, unless he was going to cut off her hand—which at the moment she would be willing to sacrifice if it meant going home—she was stuck in here.
“I have the keys.” Ryder shot her one of his winning smiles, the one she knew made his dimples show, and held up the keyring that had been taunting her, hanging on the wall, out of her reach, all these long months. Once he had her unlocked he eased her back to the floor so he could rifle in his pack. “I’m going to put my spare clothes on you. If I take you outside like that we’ll be a beacon to anyone else out there.”
Right.
Because she was naked.
When she’d first woken up in this cell her clothes had been gone and they’d never been returned to her. It was warm enough in here that she hadn’t frozen to death during the winter. She would have been embarrassed to be naked in front of Ryder, but he’d seen her naked before, and besides, right now, all she cared about was getting out of this room.
Ryder didn’t bother asking her if she could dress herself, just propped her against his knee and pulled the black long sleeve t-shirt over her head, then he pulled on a pair of black pants and a thick pair of socks. The clothes felt weird against her overheated skin, and she squirmed uncomfortably.
“I won’t roll these up,” he said to her, “that way it will cover your hands. Even if I had a pair of boots they wouldn’t fit you, and besides, I don’t think you’re going to be walking out of here.”
He was right.
There was no way she had the strength to walk out of here which meant that Ryder was going to have to carry her. Carrying her meant that he would be leaving himself vulnerable, there was no way he could handle her and his weapon and protect himself if any of the men here saw them.
“Ryder, maybe you should leave me,” she said softly. As much as she wanted to escape—had dreamed about it every single day she had been trapped in here—she didn’t want anyone to die making it happen. She was sick, and even if she got to a hospital she might not survive. Ryder should just save himself and forget he had ever seen her.
Ryder just scowled. “If you think I’m leaving you here you’re crazy.”
“But—” her protest was cut off when she began to cough again. The pain was awful, her chest was being ripped to shreds with each harsh cough, and the heat that had woken her earlier had turned into a chill and she was shaking badly, making her chest hurt more.
“Let’s go,” Ryder said briskly, putting his pack on his back then scooping her up into his arms.
All Abigail could do was hang limply in his hold. She hated it, wished she could do something to help, she didn’t like to let other people do things for her. But as much as she wanted to do her part, she couldn’t. Right now, she had to concede that Ryder was her only hope of getting out of here alive.
9:44 P.M.
Abigail felt as fragile as a baby bird in his arms.
She was a ballerina, had hoped to end up working professionally until she hadn’t made the cut—that was what she said anyway although Spider sensed there was more to it than she had let on—so she had always been small, but now she was tiny.
The urge to track down every single person involved in Abigail’s abduction and imprisonment was strong. He was a protector by nature, but when it came to Abby …
Some things were better left untouched.
Like his complicated relationship with his best friend’s baby sister.
Wanting to get out of here as quickly as he could, Spider carried the shaking woman in his arms out of her prison and toward the door. Abigail wasn’t heavy and her weight wouldn’t slow him down much, but if someone saw them it would be awkward juggling her and his weapon, doable, but he’d feel a whole lot better when he got Abby out of here and onto a helicopter.
At the door he had to pause when Abigail dissolved into another coughing fit, her entire body spasming, her face contorted in pain. Since she’d obviously been sick for a while, he didn’t think her coughs would attract any attention but he couldn’t be sure.
Cradling the back of her head in his palm, he pressed her face into his shoulder to muffle the sound as best as he could. Each harsh rasp only spurred his fear, she was coughing up mucus, her pulse was racing, her breathing shallow, and she was definitely running a high fever, she needed antibiotics, but he didn’t have any in his individual first aid kit. The IFAK was filled with bandages and other things he might need to treat a bleeding wound in the field, not what was needed to treat a lung infection. That would have to wait until they were on the helo.
When she sunk against him she tilted her face to look up at him. “Ryder, if I’m going to slow you down just leave me here,” she said softly.
What was it with this woman and her leave her behind attitude?
Had Abigail forgotten who he was?
“Hush,” he admonished. “None of my team would leave you behind and you know it, and Night or I would do anything to get you out.”
“I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me,” she murmured, her head drooping against his shoulder.
At least that made sense, and it was sweet she was worried, but his team had done plenty of rescue missions just like this one. “No one is getting hurt,” he assured her.
“We got the assets,” a voice spoke in his ear.
“Abby?” Night asked.
“She’s going to need IV antibiotics,” he replied. He wasn’t a doctor, but he had enough medical training to know that if he hadn’t found her here she would have lasted a couple more days at the most. With medical treatment she should make a full recovery, but he had to get her there first.
Night muttered a curse. “Tell her we’ll have her home by sunrise.”
“Will do.” Looking down at the bundle in his arms, he saw her staring up at him. “Night … uh, I mean Eric, says hi.”
“I remember his nickname,” Abigail said. “Yours too, it’s Spider.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Before he could say more she was hit by another coughing fit, this one worse than the others, and by the time she could finally catch her breath she was shaking badly. Each gasped breath she took made his stomach churn, he hated seeing her like this, fighting so hard just to breathe, and seeing what had happened to sweet, sassy, spunky Abby gutted him.
She deserved better, and he couldn’t deny that he and Night had failed her.
They should have found her long before this, and he dreaded hearing what else she had endured over the last fourteen months.
It was time to get her out of here, bring her home.
“I’m sorry, honey, I’m going to have to move you so you’re over my shoulder so I can keep better control of my weapon, I know you’re hurting and this won’t be pleasant, but I promise to get you to the helicopter as fast as I can.”
“It’s okay,” Abigail said tiredly. “I can take it, you don’t have to worry about me.”
Too late.
He’d been worrying about her for the last fourteen months and a long while before that. Abigail thought that no one saw her, that no one noticed that she was hurting, she tried to hide it, believed that she did, but he saw her, he’d just been too selfish and cowardly to do anything about it.