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RYKER GATHERED WITH his team in the back of the C-17 cargo plane, leaning forward in his seat as they began to discuss the situation. The roar of the engine had them all huddling together to be heard, and he glanced up to where they’d been sitting before.
Emily lay on a makeshift bed near the front of the plane, looking both battered and beautiful. The lump on her forehead had turned an angry purple, but the color had begun to return to her face after getting some fluids and rest over the past twenty-four hours.
Her silky dark hair stood out against the white blanket, and Ryker shifted his gaze back toward his men.
The last thing he needed was to get involved with a hostage they’d rescued.
Not that she’d want to get involved with him, but Jesus Christ. She was gorgeous. Maybe a little thin and frail thanks to her ordeal, but she still had feminine curves and full lips he’d just about kill to feel moving over him. He hadn’t thought of her romantically as he’d carried her to safety two days ago, but now that the adrenaline from the rescue mission had abated and he’d gotten a few moments to actually look at her?
She was fucking gorgeous.
Not to mention sound asleep and under their care until they arrived back in the States. He shouldn’t even be thinking about her that way, let alone watching her sleep with those thoughts in his head.
“So what’s the latest intel?” Colton asked, bringing Ryker’s mind back to the present.
“It’s believed Izallah escaped the compound,” Noah said. “Why the hell he wanted Emily is anyone’s guess. She was probably just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“So what—he just wanted an American woman to add to his collection of wives?” Ryker asked in disbelief.
Hunter shrugged. “Who the fuck knows? It’s about power and control with those assholes. Someone could’ve seen her on base and gotten a nice, hefty fee for ambushing the Humvee and capturing her. It probably didn’t matter who the woman was; they just needed an easy target. The fact that she’s young and beautiful certainly didn’t hurt.”
“It’s disgusting,” Noah said. “That whole backwards mindset is fucked up.”
“Agreed,” Hunter replied. “It’s also well-known that this asshole is vindictive as hell. Men who haven’t done exactly as he wanted have been found dead with their throats slit. He takes out revenge on those who dare cross him. It’s unlikely he’d come after Emily or that he even knows who she is if he wanted to track her down, unless we believe the theory that there was an informant.”
“Seems unlikely,” Mason said. “That jackass would take any woman. She was just in the wrong place.”
“She needs protection,” Ryker said.
Colton raised his eyebrows. “On the chance she was targeted? Normally I’d agree, but she’s not just some helpless woman. She’s a special agent with State. She’s highly trained and capable of defending herself.”
“She’s injured,” Ryker said. “And she was moved from place to place for over a month. That shit can mess with your mind. We should be more concerned about her safety.”
Hunter crossed his arms, leaning back in the hard airplane seat. He glanced toward the front of the plane where Emily was still sound asleep. “So what, you think we should tell the CO she needs a bodyguard or something? That seems crazy. She’ll be back on U.S. soil. And there’s no proof she was specifically targeted.”
“We need to run with the idea that there was a mole,” Ryker insisted.
“What makes you so sure of that?” Mason asked. “There’s no evidence. We work with all kinds of locals—guides, translators. And she’d just gotten there. If she was somehow targeted, it happened awfully damn fast.”
“It did,” Hunter agreed. “But money talks. If Izallah was paying his guys enough to bring him an American woman, they’d probably go along with it. What would they care if their only job was to get her to him? Maybe they couldn’t touch her, but they’d get paid, and they’re other women out there.”
“So if they wanted some pussy they could get it without messing with her,” Jacob said bluntly.
Hunter shrugged. “Exactly. I don’t see it being a big issue that she was being saved just for him—not her specifically anyway. I think his men knew he wanted a woman. Another wife. It could’ve been anyone.”
“Not just Emily,” Ryker said. At her name, she tossed and turned at the front of the plane. It had to be a coincidence, because the engines were so damn loud, there was no way she could’ve heard him say her name.
Ryker stood up anyway. “I’m going to check on her.”
Hunter nodded, and the other men continued to talk as Ryker moved toward her. Her eyelids fluttered as she slept, and his chest clenched as he saw how fragile she really looked. Jesus Christ, she didn’t deserve any of what she’d been through.
Had she been singled out? Or did she just have some shitty luck?
None of that mattered now, because as he crouched down beside her, her beautiful eyes opened.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” she said quietly. “How long was I asleep?”
Ryker lifted a shoulder. “An hour or so? The guys and I moved to the back of the plane so we didn’t bother you.”
She nodded, trying to sit up, and Ryker reached over and helped her. “Damn, your hands are freezing. Do you need another blanket or something? I can see what we have stashed around here.”
“Yeah, I am cold,” she said, shuddering.
“You need to eat more,” he chastised.
“I’ll remember that the next time I’m taken hostage,” she quipped.
Ryker grabbed the first thing he saw, his camo jacket, and draped it across her slender shoulders. “Touché,” he said. “I didn’t mean it like that. What can I say? Sometimes I’m bossy.”
“Sometimes,” she said sarcastically.
He chuckled, realizing that was probably the first time she’d joked with him. A woman like Emily probably wouldn’t appreciate him telling her what to do. Not usually, at any rate. She’d gone along with most of it for now, being injured and out of her element. She was probably used to being in control though, which was just another reason things wouldn’t ever work between them.
“We don’t exactly have meal service on these trans-Atlantic flights, but I can rustle you up an MRE if you think you can stomach it.”
“Yeah, maybe in a few minutes. I haven’t been too hungry lately.”
The plane jostled as it went through some turbulence, and Emily reached out and grabbed Ryker’s hand. He unconsciously let his thumb skim over her knuckles as she held onto him, barely even realizing what he was doing. “It’s all right,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” she said, shakily pulling her hand away. “I didn’t mean to grab onto you. I’ve just been a bit on edge since—well. You know.”
“Since we rescued you,” he said, his voice rough.
Warm brown eyes met his, and she nodded. Hell. They’d rescued people before, but they didn’t typically fly them back home with them. Usually the injured remained in the hospital or were sent off to Landstuhl.
And the men they rescued were usually that—men. American soldiers. Not a beautiful woman that clung to him when she was frightened.
He should move back to where his buddies were and just let her rest. It was a hell of a long flight, and Ryker knew Emily had to be exhausted. The way she looked at him slayed him. She trusted him—of that much he was certain.
But he sure as hell didn’t need to grow attached to a woman like her. Yeah, he wanted to protect her. That was his job. His duty. He’d sworn to protect the innocent, to fight for his country. She was an American citizen. She deserved his protection.
But now?
After they landed, they’d go their separate ways. Why that thought pained him, he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“So what kind of MREs do you guys have anyway?” she asked.
Ryker chuckled, reaching over to grab his rucksack. He rustled around, pulling out two choices. “Beef stew or mac and cheese.”
“Mac and cheese,” she said.
He tossed it toward her, and she fumbled with the package, dropping it. “Shit, sorry,” he said, reaching over. He handed it to her, his fingers brushing against her own cold hands. “Jesus, let me get you a blanket or something,” he said, standing up. She tore open the MRE as he crossed toward some of their gear. Grabbing their emergency supplies, he pulled out one of the thin, reflective blankets intended for warmth.
“Here you go,” he said, handing it over to Emily. “This will keep you nice and warm.”
She laughed, a deep, throaty sound that he felt in his groin. “They’ll see me coming for miles with this covering me.”
“Luckily they’re expecting us at Andrew’s,” he replied.
She took a bite of the mac and cheese, wrinkling her nose. It was cute as hell, not that he thought she’d appreciate his saying that.
“Not exactly a gourmet meal,” he said with a chuckle. “If you hate it, I’ll trade you my beef stew.”
“I already took a bite,” she protested.
Ryker shrugged. “I’m not picky. All MREs begin to taste the same after a while. And hell, you’re the one who’s been without choices for the past month.”
“God, you know what I’ve been craving?” she asked, taking another small bite of her food. He tried to avoid watching those full lips as she chewed. She still had the angry bruise on her forehead, but those rosy lips were doing him in. Not to mention her deep brown eyes.
“What’s that?” he asked, taking a large bite of his own food.
“Mexican. Pretty much all they fed me was rice and naan—that was better than nothing, don’t get me wrong. But it was bland and awful after a while. I ate it to keep up my strength, but I’d be lying there in my little cot, and I’d have killed someone for a burrito and margarita.”
“Amen,” Ryker agreed. “I can’t say I’ve been in captivity or had to endure what you did, but when we’re off on long missions eating these damn MREs day in and day out, I’d kill for some Mexican, too.”
“Right?” she said, smiling. She turned over the package of instant Gatorade mix in her hand.
“Mix that with some of your water,” he said.
She nodded, twisting off the cap of the bottled water and taking a sip. He watched as she sprinkled in the orange powder and then shook the bottle up, mixing it. “It’s weird to be coming home,” she said. “I was supposed to be TDY for a week. I mean—what happened to my condo while I was gone? I had bills to pay, food rotting in my fridge.”
“Didn’t you have anyone checking on your place?” he asked.
She shook her head, wincing slightly. Combatting emotions battled within him. Ryker didn’t like that she was in pain, but that long brown hair swishing around her face was sexy as hell. “I wasn’t supposed to be gone that long, remember?”
“Gotcha. I wish I had advice. I’m assuming State would handle that to some degree, right?”
She shrugged. “Hopefully. Stuff slips through the cracks though. Look at me. I thought for sure the military would come to my rescue as soon as I was kidnapped, but I ended up being gone for a month.”
Ryker frowned. “What’s wrong?” Emily asked, catching the expression on his face.
He cleared his throat. “We did come to your rescue—or we tried to at least. My team was there a month ago. We found the British soldier that had been killed, but you’d already been taken to another location.”
“You were—there?” she asked, her voice wavering. Tears smarted her eyes, and Ryker felt his gut clench.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just I didn’t want you to think that we weren’t trying to find you. We were deployed immediately from my understanding.”
She nodded, swiping at her tears. A stray one slipped down her cheek, and unable to stop himself, Ryker thumbed it away before pulling his hand back. “That reminds me,” he said, his voice gruff. “I found your necklace.”
“My necklace?” she asked in surprise.
“A woman’s gold necklace. I assume it’s yours. We found it as we were moving out of that first camp. I almost stepped on it in our exit, and somehow it caught my eye, crazy as it sounds. I slid it into my pocket and then found it a month later. Craziest damn thing. Give me your address or something so I can send it to you. I left it at my apartment in Virginia Beach.”
She nodded, looking somewhat dazed. Ryker watched as she yawned, and then the turbulence of the plane jostled them again. “I should get some rest,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I’m exhausted from all of this—”
“And I’m up here bothering you,” he said.
“I don’t mind the company,” Emily said. “This whole thing is surreal. I keep thinking I’ll wake up back in that damn camp, stuck in a room all by myself.” She shuddered and then set her MRE aside as she lay back down.
She glanced at the jacket she wore—his—and then back at him.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, standing. “You need it to stay warm. I’ll be back with the other guys. We’re here if you need something.”
She nodded, her eyes already beginning to drift shut again.
He watched her for a moment and then turned away, moving to the back of the plane where the rest of his SEAL team sat. Mason had on headphones, Hunter was leaning back with his eyes closed, and the other guys were talking and ribbing each other. Everything was the same as it always was on the way home from an op. So why did it feel like his entire world had shifted?
