Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jude woke up without realizing he’d been asleep. Not asleep. Passed the fuck out. He immediately looked for Sloan, only relaxing when he saw her manning the engine of the little boat. Then he noticed that they weren’t in the inlet any longer.

“Where are we?”

He started to move, and stopped, nearly cursing at the pain that shot through his side. He checked the bandage, breathing a little sigh of relief to find that while the gauze was soaked, the bleeding had slowed to a mere trickle. Won’t be bleeding out today.

“Getting help.”

He twisted enough to see that they’d left Orcas Island behind. He couldn’t immediately place the island looming a few hundred yards away, though. “How long was I out?”

“Long enough for me to worry.” She was paler than normal and shivering in her shirt and panties.

Goddamn it.It had been morning when they left and now it was twilight, so he’d been out a hell of a long time, leaving her to her own devices. Goddamn it again.

He kicked the bag closer to her. “I have some shorts in there and a sweatshirt.”

He should have told her before. Hell, he shouldn’t have let himself slip into unconsciousness until he knew she was taken care of. He’d fucked up across the board today, and it didn’t look like that was going to be changing anytime soon.

Sloan let go of the throttle long enough to pull the sweatshirt from the top of the bag. “I think you need this more than I do. You’re half-naked and you’ve lost too much blood.”

He was fucking freezing, but he’d suffer that and worse before he sat here while she was shivering like a damn leaf. “Put on the goddamn sweatshirt.”

She leveled a look at him, but pulled it on. “You’re being stubborn.”

“Yep.”

Sloan shook her head. “It won’t be much longer.”

Thank Christ for that. He eyed her. “How are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected.” She tucked her legs beneath the sweatshirt, her eyes on the island they approached. “I’m angry and hungry and cold, but I’m not the one who was shot. There will be a doctor in the extraction party.”

Extraction party?“Who did you call?” He remembered her getting the phone, but he must have passed out after that. He’d told her that he trusted her—and he did—but he didn’t trust anyone else. “It could be a trap.”

“It could be.” She guided them to a small dock and worked to loop the lead over one of the tie-offs. It took her a couple tries, but she managed, and she tied a passably good knot while she was at it. “But we don’t have many options, and I’m not willing to gamble your life on hoping you did a good enough first-aid job. This is the only choice we have.”

We.

He managed to climb out of the boat, though he had to lean on her to do it. His weakness disgusted him. If he’d just taken Teague out when he first had the chance, the bastard wouldn’t have gotten a shot off. And I would have killed Sloan’s brother. The same brother who got her out, which is the only reason Jude met her in the first place.

Fuck, if it weren’t for Teague, Sorcha would be dead and he’d be gunning for Callista.

Strange how things play out.

Jude thought he’d accounted for every possible outcome. He hadn’t planned on Sloan.

“I’m sorry. We’re going to have to climb.” She hoisted the backpack firmly onto her shoulders and tucked herself beneath Jude’s arm. “There’s a flat space at the top of this hill—or so I’m told. The helicopter will meet us there.”

Whosechopper? She still hadn’t said.

But he didn’t have the breath to demand answers as they started up the incline. It wasn’t as heavily treed as Orcas Island, but they still had to weave back and forth to avoid trunks. By the time they reached the promised flat area, Jude was lightheaded and doing his damnedest not to pass out again. He slumped against a tree as Sloan peered at the sky. “We’re right on time. They should be here shortly.”

They waited, the minutes stretching into damn near an hour. Every instinct he had demanded that he get her back on the boat and the hell away from here, but she was right—he needed a doctor. He’d survive the gunshot wound—he’d survived worse—but if he had stitches and a professional wrap job, it’d keep him from having to slow down more than strictly necessary.

The familiar sound of a chopper’s blades cut through the relative quiet of the night. She touched his shoulder and they both looked up as a sleek black machine landed in the middle of the clearing. Sloan didn’t move from the treeline until a woman hopped to the ground, her dark hair whipping around her face. She turned unerringly to face them.

Only when she was a few feet away did Sloan step forward, putting herself between the woman and Jude. By then, she was close enough for him to peg her as one of the other O’Malley daughters. She had the same dark hair as Sloan, though she carried herself like a queen despite her surroundings. It didn’t take the blond monster at her back to place her identity. Carrigan O’Malley.

She didn’t hesitate, ignoring Sloan’s tense posture and pulling her into a hug. Jude was close enough to hear her say, “God, I missed you.”

He watched Sloan relax, little by little. He’d known her relationship with Carrigan was complicated—there was no way to avoid that, considering her sister had chosen James Halloran over her own family—but he hadn’t quite understood how deeply the issue had run until now. Sloan had obviously been the one to put the distance between them, but it had hurt her to do it.

She does a lot of things that hurt her when it comes to her siblings.

Carrigan caught sight of him over her sister’s shoulder and her eyebrows shot up. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding. That’s no puppy you’re bringing home.”

“I’m not going home.” Sloan pulled away. “We can’t, for a variety of reasons.”

“Which we’ll discuss.” Carrigan glanced back at James Halloran. “I’m not going to throw you in a trunk the way some people handle issues, but you’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you just flit off somewhere. We’ll talk somewhere safe, get your man patched up, and then we’ll see what we can do about this mess.”

Sloan hesitated, but finally nodded. “You brought a doctor?”

“Yes.” Carrigan motioned imperiously to James. “Doc Jones is in the helicopter.”

“How did you manage that?”

Her sister laughed. “Come on. You know she’s always had a soft spot for me. All I had to do is tell her we were headed to Washington.” James cleared his throat, and Carrigan rolled her eyes. “And offer to pay her double.”

“You’re right. That does sound like Doc Jones.”

It still smelled like a trap to Jude, but then, Sloan had asked him to trust her, so that was what he’d do.

And if these two crossed them, he’d get his woman out and he’d ensure they didn’t have a chance to do it again.

*  *  *

Sloan didn’t know what to do with herself. Her sister had taken charge of the situation like she seemed to in any situation, no matter how hopeless the odds against her. Sloan had expected that. What she hadn’t expected was to find herself sitting next to James Halloran.

She’d never met him before, never even seen him. It was strange to realize that a person she’d hated so intensely was one she didn’t know by sight. Oh, there was no mistaking him—not by his big build, his blond hair, or the fact that he watched her sister like he wanted nothing more than to drag her back to some fortress to keep her safe.

It was the same expression she saw on Jude’s face sometimes when he didn’t think she noticed.

Doc Jones looked much the same as she had the last time Sloan had seen her—tall and redheaded and capable of hauling around injured people twice her size. She raised her eyebrows and barely waited for Sloan to get her headset on before she said, “When your sister told me you were in trouble, I hardly believed it. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Sloan thought she was, too. But she didn’t have it in her to deal with the woman’s attitude when Jude was being strapped to a stretcher. “Take care of him. Please.”

“This brute?” Doc Jones shook her head. “You O’Malley women sure like ’em big, don’t you? Women after my own heart.” She turned away, effectively dismissing Sloan, which was just fine because she was focusing on Jude.

It removed her distraction from the man sitting next to her, though.

Jude didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as deign to notice the woman bandaging him up, his gaze tracking James Halloran, and the distance between him and Sloan, and the pilot, who hadn’t taken off his helmet.

“I told her this was a mistake.”

Sloan went still and looked at the blond giant across from her. They all had a set of headphones on, but no one else seemed to have heard him. “Then why did you come?”

“Because your sister loves you and you getting yourself killed would break her goddamn heart.” His blue eyes gave nothing away. “Not that you give two fucks since you’ve been breaking her heart from the time she chose me, but I care. I’ll break you before I let you fuck with her further.”

“Stop it.” She didn’t want to hear how she’d hurt her sister. Carrigan was a warrior in high heels, the fearless one. How could Sloan hurt her?

She knew he spoke the truth, though. She’d known the endless unanswered calls wore on her sister, because they came less and less often as the months went on. She hadn’t relished that knowledge, but she couldn’t pretend she was the wounded party.

Not anymore.

“You’re going back to Boston, Sloan. I don’t care if you go back to the O’Malleys or the Sheridans or stay with us, but you’re going back. That Russian bastard will skin you alive if he catches you, and—”

“That would break my sister’s heart. I understand.” She wanted to hate him for it, but she couldn’t. Of them all, James was the one willing to put Carrigan first and let the world burn if that was what it took. He was entitled to his anger.

“But I’m not going back to Boston.” Her going back to Boston would cause more problems than it’d solve. It sounded like a simple solution to everyone involved—get her somewhere safe where no one could hurt her. But things would become unforgivably complicated once they found out she was pregnant.

She wouldn’t let her baby be used as a political pawn.

She refused.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “We’ll see.”

The rest of the flight passed without anyone attempting conversation, the helicopter setting down gently on the top of a building in Seattle. James was the first to jump down, holding out his hand for Carrigan. He pulled her against him for a quick kiss, the casual intimacy of it making Sloan’s chest ache. Her sister truly was happy with this man, no matter how deplorable Sloan and the rest of their family found him.

But then, she could no longer throw stones—not when she was living in a glass house by being with Jude.

She hopped down without assistance and waited for Doc Jones and Jude. He still looked pale, but that terrifying glazed look in his eyes wasn’t there anymore. Thank God.

They followed her sister and James through a door and into an elevator that only had one destination. “The penthouse,” Carrigan explained, punching the button. “We’ll iron out the next step and go from there.”

“I’m not going back to Boston.” She shot a look at James, who pointedly ignored her.

“After that shit our darling brother just pulled, I don’t exactly blame you.” Carrigan shot a look at where Jude tried to shrug Doc Jones off and got smacked upside the back of the head for his efforts. “MacNamara, huh? I thought your lot was all killed off.”

“Not all of us.” His voice gave nothing away.

“I can see that.” She turned back to Sloan. “I need to speak with you without all the overwhelming masculinity smothering us.” Her practiced smile flickered, just a little. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has.” Sloan pressed her lips together. “Jude, will you be okay?”

“Go. I won’t die in the time it takes for you to talk with your sister.” He saw too much, just like he always seemed to.

“Not for lack of trying,” Doc Jones muttered. “Now hold still or I will have Thing Two tie you down.”

Sloan hesitated for a moment longer, but the truth was that she wanted to talk to Carrigan, and not only because she needed to convince her sister not to strong-arm them into going to Boston. Keeping Jude away from the Sheridans was paramount—more important than the chance Dmitri Romanov might hunt her down.

No, not might. He would.

It was only a matter of time.