Page 44 of Hunted
I take a deep breath and try again to open my eyes. I think about all their faces and how handsome they all are… About how much I love to look at them smile down at me as I run my fingers through their beards.
Finally, with great effort, a sliver of light reaches me, and I start to blink, my eyes adjusting to the harsh light. “That’s my good girl,” Weston whispers, and I turn my head to the dark blob I think is him as my eyes adjust.
As soon as he comes into focus, my face drops. “Oh no…” I grumble, reaching for his face.
“What’s wrong?” he asks in alarm, grabbing my hand and placing it against his cheek.
“You shaved.”
He blinks at me a few times, then the others burst out laughing. His lips twitch as he watches me. “You don’t like my face anymore, baby?” He gives me a mock pout, pulling a smile from me, which he mirrors with one of his own.
“I love your face with or without a beard,” I tell him honestly with a rasp.
“Here,” Reece pulls my attention to the other side as he offers me a cup of water with a straw. He helps hold it as I take a sip. The second it touches my tongue my eyes go wide in surprise. I pull back and look in the cup.
“Ice…” I whisper. “I forgot how cold drinks could be.”
“Is it too cold?”
“A little,” I tell him honestly.
“I’ll go get some without ice,” Kingsley says. I finally lift my head and take in the other two.
“You got new clothes,” I say, tilting my head, wondering where they got them. I read the words on the front of each shirt and somehow, I know they picked these out specifically for me. It warms my heart.
That’s when I really start to tune into what’s going on. My eyes roam past them to the rest of the space. White walls, a white paneled ceiling, a large glass window…
“We got out,” I whisper, my jaw dropping open as I grip Reece and Weston’s hands a little harder, hoping they will help ground me.
“My search team rescued us in a helicopter and took us straight here. We’re at a hospital in Madagascar.”
I nod, unsure what to say. I never really thought it would happen. Why don’t I remember the rescue? I do remember a helicopter… a flood of memories hit me, and I glance down at my side, but I seem to be wearing a hospital gown.
I push the sheet down and grab the bottom of the gown and yank it up, just as Weston's hand drops down, right between my legs. I gasp as I look up at him in surprise.Was now really the time for that?
“You were about to flash the whole room; you don’t have anything on under there.” I glance over at Reece and blush.
“Whoops, sorry.”
“You can pull it up now. I’ll hold it in place here.”
I lift it, slower this time, as my core tingles in awareness from his hand being pressed against me. There’s a large bandage covering my side and I gently run my fingers over it. I flinch when my fingers graze over the wound… the bullet hole.
“He shot me,” I whisper, only now fully understanding what happened.
“Yes,” Weston says curtly, pulling my clothing back down and covering me with the sheet again. “And when you’re better, we’re going to have words about that.”
I frown as I look up at him. He looks pissed.
“Am… am I in trouble?”
“Yes,” all of them say at the same time, and I swing my wide eyes around to the others.
“Darla,” Reece says, lifting my hand and kissing the back of it, probably to soften the blow of his words. “What you did was reckless. You are most definitely in trouble.”
The way he and Weston are looking at me makes me feel nervous. I know they’re just mad I put myself in danger, but I hate disappointing them.
I glance up at Bower, who’s looking at me with pinched eyebrows, like he’s not sure what to think. Hoping to get the other two to lighten up a bit, I pull my hands from their grasp and open my arms towards where he stands behind Reece. “Bower? I need a hug.”
