The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers #2) - Lucy Leroux Page 0,33
in the shower because your hair is a greasy mess.”
Forcing herself up, Laila paused to salute before crossing the room, stripping her clothes off as she went.
Chapter Fourteen
Mason’s thick blond lashes screened him from the worst of the burn, but the overhead fluorescents still managed to scour the inside of his brain.
He licked his dry lips. “Where am I?” His voice came out as one long, dry wheeze.
“It’s about fucking time you woke up.”
“What?” Mason’s lids scraped his eyeballs like sandpaper.
Ransom sat in a chair next to him. Mason laid in a hospital bed, the nondescript utilitarian decor and furniture giving little clue as to his actual location.
He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t. His head hurt like hell, and his body wouldn’t respond. He started to panic when he registered that his entire chest was wrapped in a cast that stretched down his arm to his wrist. “What the hell happened?”
Ransom leaned in, concern in his eyes. “You don’t remember going all Captain America and saving everyone’s butt?”
Gingerly, Mason shook his head. “It’s a blur.”
The mission had been a shitshow from the start. Auric’s oil company client had severely underplayed their situation. The local state of affairs in Columbia had blown sky-high. Used to small-scale flare-ups, the client had downplayed their problems. When Mason’s team hit the ground, they realized they needed backup, but there hadn’t been time to wait. Four of the client’s people had been taken hostage, with a dozen more under threat.
His team had managed to extract the latter with relatively little trouble, but the hostage situation had taken a bad turn before their support team could arrive.
“Last I remember, we were brainstorming ways to get those executives out.”
“Your plan worked,” Ransom said pointedly, giving credit where credit was due. However, the words did jog something in Mason’s memory. Hopefully, after his head stopped aching, he would remember what it was.
“We took a few knocks and a hostage was shot, but it was just a flesh wound,” Ransom continued. “But getting them out of the country was a hot mess. Insurgents attacked your position. There were no good egress routes. You and Dom split the civilians between you two. His half went first, and he managed to get out with the help of some locals. We paid a king’s ransom for their vehicles, but you had to hole up and wait for them to double back.”
Ransom sat deeper in the chair. A swizzle stick appeared in his hands from God-knows-where. He used it to dig under the seam of his cast, scratching some otherwise unreachable itch.
“I’m not sure what happened after that. Your position was compromised somehow. The teammates who stayed behind with you—Wes and Klein—said you had to move out fast. You sent them ahead with the fittest and fastest hostages while you took the rear, defending the stragglers. There was an IED explosion. Somehow, you got your little ducklings to cover.”
Ransom threw his free hand up, pointing at Mason with the swizzle stick. “Man, I think you pulled a car out of your ass or something. The vehicle got blown over. It caught you in a glancing blow—pinned part of you against the wall. Your ribs are broken. One punctured your lung, and your arm is broken to boot. You also took a good knock to the head. Dom had a hell of a time getting you evaced in one piece.”
Grinning, Ransom pointed to Mason’s cast. “At least now you can’t give me shit for this. Yours is bigger than mine—the only time you’re going to be able to say that.”
An unwilling laugh shook Mason’s body. It hurt like hell. Ransom chuckled, too, but then his face sobered. “Buddy, you’re looking at months of recovery and PT.”
“Fuck,” Mason swore. He swiveled his head gingerly. There was a window, but it faced a brick wall, giving no clue to its location. “And where is this?”
“Mexico City,” Ransom supplied. “Quinn knew a guy who knew a good doctor. I flew in when you got here, about two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks?” Holy shit. Mason’s head spun, doing the math. He’d been on the ground over a week with Dom and the rest of the guys. “I lost a lot of fucking time.”
“You weren’t in a coma. You kept coming in and out. But you couldn’t hold any conversations for a while. You’d drop off in the middle, then couldn’t remember them afterward. But I think this one is going to take.”