Page 98 of The Heart

Our eyes lock for a moment; hers determined, mine pleading. She takes my hand, and I practically throw her inside before pulling myself up with a pained grunt.

I slam the door shut and stumble to my seat, hoping that the bullets hitting outside don’t damage anything important.

“Fuck! Colton, are you hit?” Leena shouts over the noise of the engine.

“Headset on and strap in!” I tell her, pointing to the seat next to me.

“Colt!”

“Now!”I growl.

The second her belt clicks, I lift off faster than I ever have before, nearly throwing us over the edge of the building as bullets ricochet off the blades.

Once we’re a few buildings away, and the only noises I can hear are the muffled sounds of the chopper and our heavy breathing through the intercom, I reach out to switch the channel.

“I got her. We’re in the air,” I say.

“Thank fuck. She okay?” Sebastian asks.

“I’m okay, Seb. But–” Leena cuts off, her worried eyes studying me.

“But what?” he grinds out.

I give her a pointed glance, then answer, “But you’re going to have to tell your pool guy there might be some glass in there this week.”

“Fuck!”both men shout in my ear. I wince.

“I couldn’t agree more, but we’ll save story time for later. Now where are we heading, boss? You need a lift?” I ask quickly.

“No. Head straight for the cabin. We’ll gather the rest of the team and supplies and meet you there as soon as we can,” Luke says. “And Colton?”

“Yeah?” I say, making a tight turn to get us pointed in the right direction.

“Thank you,” he says.

I pause, hearing more relief in those two words than I’ve ever heard from him. But he shouldn’t thank me.

Not yet.

I shut off the radio and focus on my breathing as I double-check the instruments in front of me. I put in the coordinates for the autopilot, relieved the second it takes over.

Because I’m pretty sure I’ve been shot.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

LEENA

“Colton?” I say, horrified as I watch him fall from his seat and slump to the floor. I throw off my headset and I’m on the ground beside him in a second.

Then I see the blood.

“Fuck!” I carefully pull the nearly unconscious man clutching at his hip to the open area behind our seats. “Move your damn hands, let me see.” I lay him flat on his back.

“You need to work on your bedside manner, boss lady. You’re oh-for-two here,” he says, his words weak.

“Well, stop fucking hurting yourself and you won’t have to keep dealing with it! Shit.”

“That bad?” He tries leaning up to see. I put a hand on his chest, pushing him back down.

---