Don’t leave me. Please just let the doc take care of you. She couldn’t quite stop that small pleading in her voice. He shook her. Crawled inside of her. Moved her when few things—or people—did. She had just left herself raw and exposed and more vulnerable than she’d been in years. She guarded her emotions far more than she did her body. She trusted few people. It had taken years to fully trust her father and brothers and yet she’d just given herself to Sam.
Don’t leave me. To a woman like Thorn, that was the epitome of weakness. She ducked her head and kept her expression perfectly blank.
Warmth slipped into her mind, filling the cold spaces, and shoved hard at the heavy open door of her childhood memories. He was saving her sanity even as he was slipping away. She kept breathing, in and out, stilling the terrible inner trembling. Whitney was gone. His voice. His eyes staring at her. She was alive and she was whole.
Sam. She whispered his name in her mind. Thankful for him. Afraid for him.
“Put him out,” Lily called, fear edging her voice. She sounded almost desperate.
They knew. They all knew about her now. Her gaze jumped to Tucker’s. She forced another calming breath. They knew she was telepathic, but that didn’t mean they knew about her childhood.
Could she put Sam out? She moved into his mind. He was definitely fighting the anesthesia—for her. Because she was upset and he was worried for her. She soothed him, assured him, and pushed him subtly toward acceptance. She knew the exact moment he succumbed, going out, drifting away from her so that she felt a wrenching separation and once again, she was utterly alone.
“Thank you,” Lily called, her voice muffled.
“Just save him,” Thorn said, loud enough for the doctor to hear. She forced air to continue breathing. Breathing in. Breathing out. Presenting that absolutely serene countenance to anyone watching her—and they were watching—even more closely now.
This time she initiated leaving the surgical tent. She couldn’t breathe in there. Tucker and the redheaded man followed her out. She got as far as the trees on shaking legs and stopped, leaning against a solid trunk and drawing in breath.
“Are you armed?” Tucker asked.
Her eyebrow shot up. “Of course I’m armed. I’m Daiki Yoshiie’s bodyguard. He’s had more threats against him than your president. I have permits to carry weapons, even in your country.” She spoke with great dignity, pitching her voice low, as if his question was totally ludicrous. She wasn’t altogether certain what she would do if he commanded her to surrender her weapons. And no way was she going to submit to a search.
“You brought down the helicopter.”
Tucker made it more of a statement than a question. She supposed he knew because Sam didn’t carry a bow and arrows and he must have received a report from whoever was cleaning up the bodies.
She didn’t blink. Didn’t show emotion. “It was necessary for our survival.”
Tucker pulled a water bottle from his pack. “You must be thirsty.”
She regarded the proffered bottle carefully. They were still treating her as a guest, yet her guard, the redheaded soldier, was definitely on alert. His gaze hadn’t left her no matter what was going on around him.
“Thank you.” She took the bottle and indicated the soldier. “Is he assigned to make certain I don’t go crazy and kill everyone here?” She injected a faint note of humor into her voice.
Tucker gave her an easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “This was a very coordinated and well-planned attack on your brother and perhaps you as well. Sam was assigned to keep you safe. Ian McGillicuddy has that honor now.”
She turned and smiled at McGillicuddy. He was a big man, his red hair spilling across his forehead and his green eyes piercing and intelligent. He was guarding her all right, but it wasn’t necessarily to keep her safe. She saluted him with the water bottle and took a long, cooling drink.
McGillicuddy nodded, but he didn’t smile and he didn’t take his eyes from her.
“Sam said my brothers are safe. I hope they’re under a tight guard.”
“Yes, of course. Kadan and Nico have them inside the compound. It’s a fortress. No one can get to them there,” Tucker said.
The concentrated smell of blood made her stomach lurch—an unusual reaction, so it had to be the aftermath of her memories bombarding her. She hoped that door was firmly closed. Glancing toward the tent, she didn’t try to keep the worry from her face.
“I thought it was a through and through and that he’d be fine.”
“You couldn’t have known. Sam’s tough,” Tucker added. “Once he went back twice for wounded and no one realized he’d been shot twice himself. We didn’t know until he was in the helicopter heading home and he just sort of passed out. That’s Sam.”
She liked Tucker all the more for the genuine respect and affection in his voice. “He was extremely efficient in the firefight. We were greatly outnumbered. The enemy spoke in English, Spanish, and Farsi. Two of the soldiers were murdered by their own people, presumably to keep them from talking.”
“The bullets were concentrated in the mouth, destroying teeth and faces. Soldiers must have mopped up after your kills, making certain to slow down identification. Have there been specific threats against your family?” Tucker asked.
“There are always threats.” Thorn looked around for a place to sit. Her legs were beginning to get a little strength in them, but she knew she needed recovery time. “I’d like to sit down if you don’t mind.” She said it more for McGillicuddy’s benefit than for Tucker’s. She didn’t want to make any sudden moves and have the man shoot her. She forced her legs to work—to glide soundlessly through the vegetation until she found a suitable spot to sink onto the ground gracefully.
“I’m sorry,” Tucker said immediately, looking remorseful. “I should have found you somewhere comfortable right away.”