Chapter 11

After Doc left,I watched August. He was restless and his movements became increasingly frantic. He was reaching out for something, grasping at the air, his brow furrowed. I hooked my hand under his, trying to provide some comfort, but it was clear that wasn’t what he was seeking.

In that moment, it struck me just how vulnerable August was. Stripped of his usual defenses, lying in a hospital bed, he was a shadow of the formidable Navy SEAL I knew him to be. His weapon, which had been a constant companion and a source of security for him, was locked away, leaving him exposed in a way that went beyond the physical.

The realization hit me—what August needed in his agitated state was a semblance of protection, something to anchor him to the sense of safety that had been an integral part of his identity. I pulled out my HK45, emptied the chamber and removed the cartridge, ensuring it was safe.

I, then, placed the weapon in August’s searching hand, curling his fingers around it. The effect was almost immediate. His restlessness eased, the lines of tension in his face smoothed, and his breathing became more regular. It was as if the mere presence of the weapon, even in its neutralized state, provided the comfort and security he was seeking.

August had a warrior’s spirit.

The door opened, and I glanced up, catching Doc Jen’s eye, both of us focusing on the gun, but she nodded as she came in—as a former combat veteran, she would know the same as I had.

“Ethan wants you to head over to Swim Central,” she said and crossed to August’s side, picking up the tablet with his file. “You know where that is?”

“Southeast, I got it.”

“Just keep walking, you can’t miss it.” Then, she gestured to my leg. “And?”

“Sore, but it’s all good.” I’d refused the good pain killers, keeping the pain at bay with low-strength meds, but again, there was no argument from Doc Jen, although she insisted on the anti-inflammatory pills, threatening me with amputation if I didn’t listen.

She was scary as shit, and there was no way I was arguing with her.

Something niggled at me—if I was heading over to Swim Central, then August would be alone, and I don’t know why, but I didn’t like that one little bit.

“I’ll stay with your man,” she said, as if she could read my mind. “Go.”

“He’s not my man… he’s… whatever.” I grumbled as I picked up the second crutch, took one last look at August’s pale face, and headed out. I made it down the stairs as best I could, through the kitchen, and out of the back door, heading southeast from the main property to Swim Central.

The new home of Ethan and his Shadow Team.

Stepping into the office in the separate building was like walking into another world. Despite the fact that I’d seen it from outside a few times since we’d arrived at Kingscliff—the structure covered in scaffolding—the uniqueness of the new office space, along with the use of the name Shadow Team and all it implied., still struck me with the same intensity. Ethan had been asked to set up a team to work in the shadows by another somewhat shadowy organization; it was as simple as that, and now, I was part of that team. We were the good guys, and that was all I needed to know.

My work for Sanctuary had been done for them. I was back with an injured August in tow, and Luca had gotten Annie out safe, and I wondered what was next for me.

I hoped with every molecule of myself that it was tracking Amos down and taking him out, or that they’d found him, and Amos was no more.

With Amos still alive, even with his cartel decimated, he’d be scrambling not to leave a power vacuum, and he wanted Annie.

That much I was certain of.

Ethan had started the lengthy process of transforming what was once a grand indoor swimming complex into a functional, high-tech command center, and the office itself was in the deep end of the former pool, which gave it an unusual layout. Two walls were tiled, a reminder of its aquatic past.

I couldn’t help the shudder running through me at the thought of the water pouring in to cover us. Yeah, that was a freaky fear, but it followed me whenever I was near an empty space that had been filled with water. Some people hated spiders, or cockroaches, turns out, I didn’t much like empty pools.

I noticed Luca first. Having not seen him since we’d gotten back to Kingscliff, he hurried to my side where we bro-hugged before he stepped away to examine me from head to toe, his worried gaze settling on my lumpy, bandaged knee.

“Shit, Ry,” he muttered.

“It’s a scratch.”

“They said torn ligaments, dude,” he said with a frown.

I huffed. “It was a big scratch.”

“You’re good?” he asked. I wish I hadn’t had to leave you behind.

“All good,” I replied. That’s the job, Luca, those were your orders.

We had this whole unspoken conversation, and that was all we needed, just a recognition of everything that had gone down—our own personal debrief.

“What have you been up to?” I asked.

“Following leads, we’re?—”

“Gentlemen,” Ethan called from further down Swim Central, his presence as commanding as ever, as he gestured me over with a broad grin. I limped next to Luca to the big table. It wasn’t round, this wasn’t King Arthur’s court, but it was like a squashed oval, which meant that, even though Ethan was in the big chair, we were all more equal than I’d imagined we’d be. Was I reading more than was necessary into an oval table? Probably, but sue me, this whole Shadow Team thing was a trip.

“Take a seat, Ryder, and welcome to Swim Central.” He waved at the space around him, and I smiled, because yeah, it was a cool-ass name. “Everyone, this is Ryder, Army Ranger, part of the extraction team along with Luca, of Annie Lerner and August Fox. Comm, computers, you name it, he knows it.”

“Hi,” I said with a generic wave.

Ethan pressed on. “Ryder, this is Zach, former SEAL,” I reached over and shook hands with Zach, his grip as firm as mine. “Next to him, Kai, 427 Special Operations Aviation Squadron. Specialist in electrics.”

“Helicopters, cool,” I said, for something to say. Kai was smaller than Zach, but his grip was as hard, and his flinty eyes narrowed on me. 427 wasn’t only helicopters, and I’d dumbed that down way too much, but sue me, I liked helicopters. “And other shit, also,” I added with a smile.

Kai rolled his eyes. “Lots of shit, saving shit, fucking shit up, looking sexy while I do shit. The usual awesome stuff,” he deadpanned.

“Bullshit,” Zach coughed into his hand, and Kai offered him a finger.

I noticed Ethan wasn’t calling anyone in here former anything even though I guessed they were all free agents working for Shadow Team. All of us had spec-ops blood in our veins.

“Aria, Special Operations.”

She offered me a fist to bump, which of course I tapped. “Also fucking shit up, but in a less obvious way than a former 427 flyboy,” she offered.

“Whatever,” Kai sighed, which again earned him a scowl from Zach. Kai smirked, but if anything Zach’s scowl deepened. No love lost there, then.

“And last, but by no means least, Yazmin, also SpecOps. Strategy.”

“Yaz,” she said and shook my hand. She seemed to be taking the measure of me. I exchanged a nod with her.

“Coffee?” Kai asked, and I almost said yes, when I realized he was pointing at me and then, over at the machine. “Last one in makes the coffee, mine’s black with two sugars.”

I sat back in the chair, my leg aching, needing to assert something like confidence. “Same,” I said, and we entered into an epic stare-off, which ended with us grinning at each other.

I think I’m gonna get on with Kai.

“Jesus, I’ll get the fucking coffee for the children,” Zach muttered, and headed over to the coffee station.

“That’s my boy,” Kai said.

“Fuck you,” Zach muttered.

Ethan ignored them both. “Ryder will be joining our team, post-recovery, as the newest Shadow Team recruit,” Ethan announced, and I caught his gaze on me.

“Welcome aboard,” Aria said and took a coffee from Zach, who then made sure we were all supplied with caffeine and cookies. Then, Ethan started the meeting, his voice echoing in the tiled space. His leadership style hadn’t changed—direct, no-nonsense, yet underpinned with a deep sense of care for his team. It was a far cry from the battlefields and covert operations I was accustomed to, yet here I was, part of something just as important, just as impactful.

“Now, business,” Ethan said, and passed over a folder of photos. “Thin file, but we need to talk to August. Anyway, intel so far on Amos.”

“You know where he is?” I asked quickly.

He shook his head. “But we will.”

* * *

I opened August’s door,exchanging fist bumps with Doc Jen on her way out, and when I entered, the first thing I noticed was that the chair I’d used had shifted from his side. It was a subtle change, but in a room where I had spent so many hours, every detail was familiar. I glanced at August, who appeared to be sleeping, his breathing even and deep.

Doc Jen had moved the chair—probably didn’t want to be quite so close to August as I had been when I was holding his hand and getting him to settle.

Deciding to make my presence known, I dragged the chair back to its original position. The sound was jarring in the quiet room, and almost immediately, August cracked open an eye, his expression one of annoyance.

“You’re fucking noisy, Army,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, but carrying an edge.

“I know,” I replied with a grin. I pulled the chair closer to the bed and settled into it. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot in the gut,” August replied, his dark gray gaze meeting mine before he closed his eyes again. There was a hint of dark humor in his tone, a coping mechanism a lot of us military types wrapped ourselves in.

“How are you feeling?” he asked after a pause, his eyes still closed.

I couldn’t help but smile at his question. “Like I broke my leg, and also got shot in the vest at least three times, and breathing is hard,” I confessed. It was the truth; the vest had absorbed the force of the bullets, but the impacts had still left their mark.

August responded with a simple, “Whatever,” but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was progress, however small.

I wondered if I should tell August about the search for Amos. Not that there was much to tell him given there was no trace of the fucker. Still, an update might be good.

But then he’d kind of smiled, and I didn’t want to rock the boat.

I opened the Reacher book on my phone and cleared my throat, then began to read aloud, filling the room with the sound of my voice. It was a routine I’d fallen into, and he could tell me to stop any time.

As I read, I couldn’t help but glance at August from time to time. He kept his eyes closed, but I knew he was listening. In that room, with the steady beep of the monitors, there was a sense of peace, a brief respite from the chase for Amos and for just surviving. And for now, that had to be enough.