Page 20 of Rami

His fingers wiggled under her neck, and she let him support the weight of her head. He held a small packet near her lips. Her mouth craved moisture like a drought-baked field craved rain. She ran her dry tongue over her cracked lips and tasted salt. He must have already put drops in her mouth.

Poison? Couldn’t be worse than the stuff that’d been pumped into her veins.

“Electrolytes,” he said, answering her internal question. “If we don’t get you hydrated, you’re not going to survive.”

She blinked slowly, her eyes growing heavier by the second. Whoever this dark and dangerous guy was, her survival meant something to him and to—she flicked her gaze to the guy named August—the man staring at her with sad eyes.

A fog hung around her, making it hard to focus. Plus the room kept moving—wait, no, they were in a vehicle. Tires vibrated beneath her.

Realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. She wasn’t in the camper anymore. She wasn’t with Marty and Wayne. And these two men surrounding her like a bulletproof shield weren’t injecting her with drugs.

They’d saved her.

A whimper sounded from her throat, and her gaze darted around the vehicle. Was this a dream? A sick joke?

“That’s right, honey,” the guy holding her said softly. “We got you out. You’re going home.”

Her eyes burned and her throat constricted. “My sister,” she rasped. Her throat ached with the effort but she needed to speak. Needed to let Gigi know she was alive.

“She sent us,” August said.

It was the same August. Her eyes focused on him, and a sob caught in her chest. He squeezed her hand and rubbed her arm. “It’s all right. It’s all over. We’ve got a long drive, but we’re gonna get you home to Gigi. We need you to drink, though. You’re badly dehydrated and it’s not safe to go to a hospital right now.”

She met the other man’s gaze again, and he touched her lips with the packet, urging her. She opened her mouth, and he squirted the liquid inside. In seconds her body hummed, needing more of the life-awakening drops.

“There ya go,” he cooed.

She gasped when the packet was empty. August unscrewed a bottle of water, and she held out a shaky hand. She was definitely in Heaven and blessed with hot angels.

“I got it,” the guy holding her neck said. He brought the plastic bottle to her mouth, and as she chugged the water, she let her attention slip over his brawny, tattooed knuckles and up a muscular forearm. When she reached his face, his eyes locked hers in place. So intense. Anchoring. And the line over his eye was definitely ink. Some kind of teeny-tiny writing. Maybe symbols? Whatever it was, it made him appear deadlier than sin.

The cool water rushing into her mouth slopped down her chin and wet her shirt but she didn’t give a damn. She drank half the bottle and then felt herself grow listless.

The guy laid her head down and pulled away his hand, but she caught his wrist. Her arm was weak, her fingers shaky. But she didn’t want him to go. He seemed to get the message and shifted so he sat comfortably. August busied himself in his bag and spoke to someone else in the van—the driver, maybe.

“What’s your name?” she asked the dark angel.

His mouth quirked ever so slightly. Not really a smile. That action would be much too soft for a man with his face.

“Rami,” he said.

She nodded and tasted his name on her lips, rolling it off her tongue. “Thank you, Rami.”

“Rest.” He rubbed her arm and she snagged his fingers as sleep pulled her into its arms. This time, she welcomed it.

CHAPTER 7

Rami wasn’t a praying man, but some divine force needed his thanks for getting them out of Mexico alive. Well, the five grand Taschen had paid the Border Patrol agent he knew had also helped. Still, things could’ve easily gone south, and entering the United States with a half-dead missing woman was a surefire way to get themselves locked up in a Mexican prison.

It was 1:00a.m. when they pulled up to the motel an hour from the border. They were once again on American soil, but the threat was still viciously close. August hopped out and jogged to the front desk to book a room.

If Ivy had been in better shape, they would’ve kept driving. But as it stood, her life was still hanging in the balance. They might have saved her from human traffickers, but she was nowhere near out of the woods.

“She regain consciousness?” Taschen swiveled to throw the question toward the back.

Rami ran his fingers over her neck and stopped at her pulse, as he’d seen August do several times during the drive. “Barely,” he grunted.

August had said her pulse was stronger than when they’d found her, so the electrolytes and fluid must have helped. Still, despite his lack of medical training, Rami didn’t like the stringy thumping of her heart.

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