Stephanie Tyler - Unbreakable

That sick fucking bastard.

She’d wrapped towels around herself to try to keep warm, and the blood had already seeped through. The adrenaline rushing through her was no doubt stopping the pain, but the dull ache between her legs was slowing her down more every minute.

She waited, crouched, as the doorknob turned. It seemed to take forever and then light flooded the small room and Jem was pointing a gun at her.

Jem. She sank to the floor as he came forward to her. She heard Gunner’s shouts, murmured, “Don’t let him see me like this,” to Jem, but it was too late. Gunner was there, his expression of horror quickly erased by one of calm concern.

He moved forward, picked her up and walked her out of the bathroom. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve got you. Don’t look,” he told her as they passed the bed and she buried her face into his chest as he walked them out into the cool air and slid them into a car. She remained curled in his lap as Jem covered them both with a heavy blanket and then she floated in and out of consciousness once the car started to move.

She was safe. She’d survived. She’d made it through.

She’d let the need for revenge carry her the rest of the way through, would let it burn through her body like a fire that would stop the pain.

“She needs a hospital,” Gunner said quietly at one point. “I can stitch her, but I don’t have all the supplies with me.”

“No. Too many questions,” she murmured.

“I’ll figure this out,” Jem told them. “Plane had to take back off—air traffic control reported him.”

The car sped up measurably and Gunner’s arms tightened around her. She didn’t know how long they drove, but at one point they’d stopped and Gunner was putting an IV in, applying pressure bandages where he saw blood and she was fighting him, telling him no. “I don’t want you to see this,” she told him, hated the hurt on his face. He didn’t understand. She couldn’t hurt him more.

And then they were back in the car, driving more. “Keep talking to me, baby. Just keep talking and everything will be okay.” He’d repeat that over and over until he believed it himself.

“Tell me . . .” she started.

“What, chère?” Gunner prompted. “Tell you what?”

She needed something to focus on, something beyond the terrible, horrible tragedy that was now filling the truck, making these men too close to anger and panic. She needed to bring them back.

If you find the strength, your men will pull it from you. Find it. In your darkest of times, it will get all of you through. She swore she could hear Adele’s voice telling her that, even though she’d never met the woman.

“How did you two first meet?” she asked, her voice slightly slurred. “Or is that classified, supersecret spy information?”

“You’re kidding, right? You want to know that now?” Jem asked over his shoulder.

“Road, Jem—watch the road,” Gunner told him. Looked at her. “Really?”

“Would help me. Please.”

Gunner’s jaw tightened, as though he didn’t think he should be telling stories at a time like this. But that’s exactly why she needed him to do it.

“It was my first year with the teams,” he started. “We were in Beirut on a recon mission when we got the call about a hostage situation in the British embassy.”

“I still don’t know why the hell they called you guys in,” Jem interrupted, and Gunner stared at the back of Jem’s head, the familiar I will kill you expression on his face.

She would’ve laughed, but it would hurt too much. The truck’s steady rhythm and Gunner’s voice soothed her in a way not much else would’ve at the moment.

Get them to treat you normally, no matter how abnormal the situation. Reassuring them reassures you.

“Our objective was recon during the day, and then we were supposed to go in, grab the hostage, take out the gunman, all while the hostage negotiator with the CIA was distracting him,” Gunner continued. “It was a good plan.”

“It was a shitty plan and you know that now,” Jem corrected.

“It was meant to minimize bloodshed and unrest,” Gunner shot back.

“It was already too late for that shit.”

Gunner stared at the back of Jem’s head, then muttered to her, “He’s right. The gunman garnered all sorts of unwanted attention—purposely—from the media and the locals. By the time my team got there, it was a barely controlled mass hysteria in the streets. The local police were close to losing total control of the situation. They’d called in soldiers to help, but that seemed to make things worse. The gunman was already agitated and unstable, and he started to lose it when the soldiers rolled up the street.”

“In a goddamned tank. Tell her that,” Jem prompted.

“You just did,” Gunner pointed out. “The gunman—his name was Kassim—”

“I thought it was Amir.”

“Does it matter?”

“I’m the one who got shot, so yeah.”

“Jem got shot?” she asked.

“Just a little bit, honey,” he told her.

“Anyway, Kassim shot out the window, yelled to us that he was taking the first one out,” Gunner said. “The hostage negotiators weren’t there yet—”

“Probably having lunch discussing the psychology of the hostage or some shit like that. Hostage negotiators are never there when you need them.”

“That’s the first true thing he’s said so far,” Gunner said.

“Who’s crazy now?” Jem added.

“You still are.” Gunner looked at her. She was smiling a little. “So anyway, all of a sudden, I hear some guy yelling, ‘Fuck this shit.’ And this crazy-eyed person steps through the crowd. Cuts through it like butter, Avery. I’ve never seen anything like it. Or maybe they were just backing away from the crazy.”

Jem snorted at that.

“So this one guy—another agent, I think—says, ‘Sir, we’re waiting for the negotiator. Please don’t make the situation worse.’ And so Jem turns to him and says, ‘I’m the negotiator,’ and he keeps walking. He’s beyond the police lines at this point and everyone just goes quiet watching him walk into the building. Even the gunman’s looking out the window, and he’s kind of stunned at the death wish Jem had going on.”

“Again, the second true thing Gunner’s said all night,” Jem added.

“And so he’s inside and the gunman’s all freaked out, starts firing at him immediately, but he’s wired and so his shots are going all over the place. And Jem’s just walking toward him, weapon drawn, not firing. Just walking straight at him. And finally, he gets right up on the guy. Right in his face. And he just takes the gun from him. Tells the people to get the hell out of the building.”

“Wait a minute,” she said. “How did you know what happened inside the building?”

Jem started laughing, that crazy laugh she’d come to know so well. “Tell her, Gun. Tell her how you followed me inside the building.”

“Even then, I knew someone had to watch your back.”

“I had it under control.”

“What happened to the gunman?” she asked.

“Jem waited until everyone got out safely. Then he shot the guy dead and told everyone he’d done them a favor by saving them the cost of an execution. I visited him in jail,” Gunner said wryly.

“I was only detained, not arrested,” Jem told her. “Ridiculous red tape.”

“He tried to get into the hostage negotiating team right after that. Used that as proof he’d do a good job,” Gunner said with a roll of his eyes. “I told you—twenty pounds of crazy stuffed in a five-pound bag.”

“But he’s our crazy,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah, he is,” Gunner confirmed. “Crazy and I will get you through this.”

“Crazy just found the perfect motel.”

Under the cover of night, Gunner carried her into one of the adjoining motel rooms and put her on one of the beds. She was holding the blanket tight, shivering uncontrollably. Her body was wet with blood, although the cuts had stopped bleeding considerably, thanks to the pressure bandages.

“Come on, chère. Gotta let me help,” Gunner urged.

“She doesn’t want you to see this, man,” Jem told Gunner.

“I don’t have a choice. I need to help her.”

“Get her comfortable and give me half an hour.”

“What are you going to do, find a doctor?”

Jem pointed and for the first time, Gunner noted they were across the street from a clinic with an ER. “Gotta be someone in there who’ll help and keep their mouth shut.”

“Jem—” Gunner started, but the man was already out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Gunner focused on Avery, who was trying to make sure the blankets were covering her. Keeping her calm and from going into shock were two things he could do. Uncovering her now would make things worse, although he wished to hell he’d brought his medic bag. Being helpless never sat well with him, but this . . .

“I’m . . . okay,” she managed to say.

“You’re comforting me?” he asked. “You never cease to surprise me, Avery.”

“I promise I’ll be okay. You’re what got me through.”

I’m the one who got you into this, he wanted to tell her. Instead, he said, “I was with you, every step of the way. You’re so fucking strong.”

“For you,” she murmured.

The twenty-four-hour clinic had seen better days. Jem eyed the staff, assessing them quickly, and focused in seconds on the female doctor who was talking to a young woman in the waiting room.

Her hair was in a messy bun, a pencil stuck through it. She was touching the woman, who looked like a prostitute, kneeling in front of her. Reassuring her.